Chapter 4.

It never failed to amaze me how bizarre my life had gotten. The past few hours had been some of the strangest yet. It surprised me a little to realize, however, that I didn't long for the return of simplicity, for things to be normal again. I just wanted to know what was going on, and how I'd gotten there. I'd gotten a few answers, at least: I was indeed on an alien planet, and the city had in fact been evacuated after some kind of biological weapon was used on it. I remembered the hazmat guys had been talking about something, or someone, called "red ribs." What did that mean?

Finally, after I'd been sitting on the orange bench for almost three hours, people started coming in through the airtight tent like I had. Then I watched through the door as the sides of the tent started crumpling inwards, and very quietly the tent collapsed itself into a rectangle and sealed the opening it was attached to. Some kind of hatch closed behind it, shutting the sunlight out of the ship. All that was left were some small orange lights on the ceiling and floor here and there. One of the people that had come in earlier (all of whom had been wearing the same brown uniforms) walked back into the room, and told me and the German that they couldn't find any other survivors, and we were taking off for the base now. Supposedly the ride would be smooth, but slow. Apparently they were low on fuel.

A low, bass thrumming started rattling the ship after a few minutes. The whole thing gave a jerk upwards, and for a few seconds I could feel it moving and rocking as it rose. Then all sensations of movement stopped. I thought something had happened, but there didn't seem to be any commotion coming from the front of the ship. I waited for awhile. Then, all of a sudden, the ship lurched, gave off a loud mechanical shriek, and accelerated. Again, the feeling of motion stopped after a few seconds. Then I started seeing strange things. Tiny lights would appear out of one wall and disappear into another. Others would just blink in and out of existence in the middle of the air. Sometimes it looked like waves of some kind were undulating through the walls and the benches, and when one went by me I felt a brief nausea. The German had stood up in the midst of this, and was looking around at all the bizarre commotion like he thought it might bite him. It made me nervous, too, but I shrank away from it, rubbing my hands and fidgeting. Over the course of an hour or so it became less unnerving, but I still avoided the waves when they went by me. The German sat down after awhile, looking a little calmer. He didn't try to talk to me, for which I was grateful.

It was only fifteen minutes after that point when the mechanical shrieking started again. The ship gave a violent lurch and decelerated, and then all feeling of motion stopped. With it ceased the strange lights and waves. Then, a few minutes after that, I felt the ship decelerating a little again, and there was a rumbling and rocking of the hull while the low thrumming escalated to an overpowering bass throb. Suddenly it all stopped. All the little machine noises coming from the ship died down. I thought it must have just landed somewhere. Almost immediately, a woman in a brown uniform poked her head through the doorway, and explained that we'd just landed, and we should follow her outside where someone else would lead us to a refugee center. I picked up my hunk of rebar and followed, my legs stiff from sitting so long. The German followed behind me.

She led us to a side door towards the bow of the ship. There, a short set of stairs led to the ground beyond the doorway, and outside another strange environment was waiting for me. I felt terrified, and I still felt a little like crying from the last discussion I'd had. But, I did go down those steps, and when I got outside I decided that this place, though very strange, seemed a lot friendlier than the city had been.

The ground I set foot on was a stone-paved lot. Around me were buildings that looked like they were made out of wood and wicker-- literal straw houses. Dirt paths wound off in various directions, and big wood and stone boardwalks arched overhead and went who knows where. One had a ramp that spiraled down to the ground. Surrounding all this was a dense, alien forest, full of what looked like giant ferns and grasses, but in a dingy, bluish color, interlaced with bright red and duller purplish growths of some sort. The sky was a little reddish, and the sun hung low in the sky, and was small and bluish, and very bright. The sunlight felt unusually warm when it hit my skin. Some people were milling about, dressed mostly in loose shirts and pants with plain colors or simple prints. Intermixed with them were creatures I didn't recognize. Many looked like they were straight out of the cantina in Star Wars. One, off to my left, stood out. It looked something like a Chinese dragon, but with six legs. It had a fleshy ridge running down its back and neck and a thick fan at the end of its tail, and instead of a scaly body it had this translucent, gelatinous-looking greenish-blue skin. It didn't have any horns, but its face had lots of smooth ridges and a pair of tentacles several inches long drooped down from behind each of its nostrils. It had big, liquid blue eyes, and strange three-toed feet that were jointed like millipedes and had no nails. It stood only on its back four legs, holding the rest of its body upright. It seemed to be watching me.

The woman pointed to a spot of ground, not far from the dragon creature, and told me and the German to wait there. Then she disappeared down one of the dirt paths at a fast clip. I felt a little uneasy, sandwiched between a Nazi on one side and a dragon on the other. I stared straight ahead and tried to wait patiently for whatever was coming next. I almost went into shock when the dragon turned to look at me and started speaking plain English-- and with the kind of voice you'd expect to hear coming out the mouth of some 19th century British explorer.

"I imagine you two were just plucked off Agonis today?" he asked.

At first I was just too surprised to respond. Then I progressed to stuttering, and after a few seconds I managed to form a complete sentence. "Um... I think so." (it was, however, a short sentence.)

"You look like you've had a long day." I nodded. "How did you end up on Agonis, anyway? If you don't mind me asking. I've hardly seen any humans come out of there, and they picked you up on the final sweep. You must have arrived after the evacuation, no?"

"Uh-- I think so. I don't know how I got there."

His eyes went a little wider. "Well. Something very unusual seems to have happened." He seemed very sincere, though. Not like the loader guy.

"Well... do you know what happened?"

"Not in the least. But there is something very unusual about you two." He looked over at the German, who looked like he was horrified and shocked for some reason. He was on an alien planet. Did it not occur to him that there might be aliens? Admittedly, I had been shocked too, but he looked to be in another state of mind entirely.

"And how about you, boy?" he said, turning to the German. "You two clearly aren't friends. How'd you end up on the same loader?"

Now it was the German's turn to stutter, and his eyes were wide, like he was holding back panic. "I don't know," he finally said.

"Hmm," the dragon creature said, pursing his lips. "Well, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly did happen?" He looked back and forth between me and the German.

"Well," I said, "I'm not sure. I was in an alley at home, on Earth, in Kansas; I was going to a movie, and everything suddenly went dark around me. Then it was like I was falling or something, and I landed in this hallway at the top of an apartment building. I really don't know what happened. I feel like Dorothy, except--" I let the sentence hang, and glanced over at the German, who I realized was staring at me with a strange, focused expression.

"And how about you, young man?" the alien said, looking at the German.

"I... I was in an alley also," he said, still looking at me. "The same thing happened to me, but I landed in some kind of museum, I think. Why, has this happened before?" he asked the alien. I was wondering the same thing.

He shook his head slowly. "No, in my whole life, I've never heard of anything like this. And you both landed at the same time?" he asked. I nodded. "Hmm. Was it the same alley?"

"It couldn't have been," I said. "My alley was in Kansas, his... I don't know where his was."

"Bastogne," he grumbled.

I looked at him with a little surprise. I wondered if he'd been there for the Battle of the Bulge. "They were on opposite sides of the world," I said. "Plus... he's from sixty years in the past."

The alien's eyes got a lot wider then. "You're... from the same planet, but not the same time?" he said.

"No," the German said, shaking his head.

"Hmm. Then, if you don't mind telling me, why is there such enmity between you two?"

Wow-- that was going to be a long story. "Well," I finally said, "there was a war between our countries in his time. But his people did terrible things during the war, and he still thinks those things can be justified." I shot the German a glare as I finished talking. He just bit his lip and grimaced in response.

The alien sighed. "Perhaps this enmity is best left in the past for now," he said.

"But-" I started.

"No, I think the issue is clear," he continued, cutting me off. "And I'm sure you know what you're talking about. But I really doubt that infighting is going to help either one of you right now."

"But... why do you believe us at all?" the German asked. That question had crossed my mind, too.

"I trust my instincts. You both seem like sane, honest people, though it's clear you don't like one another. So, if you're not lying, and you're not insane, then you must be telling the truth."

At this moment the woman in the brown uniform returned, knocking a little dust in the air as she stopped in front of us. She seemed short on breath. "If you'll both please follow me now, I'll show you to the refugee center," she said.

"Well, ma'am," the alien said, looking at her, and then back at me, "I think these two are in a special predicament, and if it's not a problem..." -- he looked at me and the German-- "I thought perhaps I could offer some help here."

The woman sighed and put her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this. Who are you two going with?" she said.

I hadn't expected this at all. What occurred to me right then was that either I was going to spend who knows how long being led by more uniformed officers, end up who knows where, and have no clue what to do next, or I was going to trust my luck with an alien I didn't know, and hope he was trustworthy. I had the feeling he was, but I didn't trust my own judgment. Either option was bad.

"I think I'll follow her," the German said, jabbing his thumb at the woman. He'd made up my mind for me. I didn't want to spend another minute around him, and if he was going with option A, I was going with option B. I'd rather trust my luck to a strange alien, who seemed nice enough, than to a Nazi.

"Well, what were you going to do?" I asked the alien.

"You both seemed very confused. I hoped I might be able to explain some things, and help you get both feet on the ground. Anyone who's been through something as strange as you deserves some help. I can provide you each with quarters for a few days, and then send you on your way when you're ready."

I was a little surprised. None of the other people I'd run into yet seemed this hospitable, and it almost made me suspicious. There was something unusually warm about him though, and I had a chance to get away from the German. I decided I'd take it. I'd survived alone in an abandoned alien city for two weeks, anyway; if I had to, I could leave, and survive on my own, or try to find the refugee center. The woman had shifted her weight, and was looking impatient.

"I'll follow you, then," I said, looking at the alien. He gave me a nod, then looked up at the uniformed woman. She shrugged, looked at the German, and started walking away, gesturing for him to follow. The German started following her, then looked back. He had the strangest expression on his face; like he was worried, and he was looking straight at me. Then he turned and kept walking. That look bothered me for some reason. I glanced over at the alien. His expression was odd, too. He looked sad about something.

"That," he suddenly said, "is his kindness trying to exhume itself."

I was shocked. I hadn't said anything, and he'd answered a question I hadn't planned on asking. "You saw it too?" he said, looking at me.

"You mean that look?" I said, still feeling some disbelief.

He nodded. "Did you know what it meant?" he asked.

"No." How could I? "What do you mean, 'it's his kindness' or something?" I asked.

"I'm guessing he was worried about you," the alien said.

"Why?" I said, more to myself than him.

"I don't know. I doubt he likes you, if that's what you're afraid of," he said, smiling a little. He gazed off at the quickly retreating pair, until they disappeared down a dirt path. "Do you have anything else with you?" he asked.

"No, just this," I said, holding up my mace.

He nodded. "Well, then, I suppose we'll be on our way." He turned and began walking down a disheveled boardwalk twisting into the thick greenery. I started walking behind him, holding my rebar mace a little tighter than normal. I really, truly hoped the alien was right about the German on all counts.

The boardwalk was narrow and rickety, and wound on for miles. Here and there an offshoot would lead to small wood and wicker shacks and buildings, sometimes stacked precariously on top of one another, often linked by swaying bridges or rope ladders. Overhead the greenery often rose for almost a hundred feet and blotted out the sky. We walked in near silence for a long time. It was probably half an hour before the alien, loping along on its rear four legs like a centaur, broke the silence.

"So what's your name?" he asked.

"Andrea."

"Andrea? It's pretty. Unusual, though. I'm Onduin."

"Onduin," I said. He nodded. "Where are we going?"

"I have a place about another mile from here. I own an outbuilding you can stay in for now, near my home. I think it might be a good idea if you got some real rest, and then we can discuss where you came from and what to do now that you're here. I have no idea what you've been going through, but I can see it's been rough."

I was tired. I'd been up for longer than I cared to think about, and I'd hardly eaten anything in two days. After dealing with the hazmat people and the ride to this place from the city, I was ready to fall over. At least I didn't have to worry about the German again. I wondered for a moment what he was up to.

A mile more wasn't bad. I'd gotten used to being on my feet all day from being in the city, and the greenery was a welcome change. The sun had already started setting. It seemed almost unusual now to see the sun move, but it was a little more familiar at least. People started lighting strings of paper lamps along the boardwalks and dirt paths as the bluish sunlight faded, casting a yellowish hue on everything they lit. On the surface it seemed very primitive, but signs of advanced technology showed up here and there. The paper lamps all seemed to be electric, and they didn't seem to plug into anything. Now and then someone would walk past with one or another electric device dangling off keychains or wrapped around their wrists. There was no machine noise, though-- just the occasional sound of feet thumping down the wooden planks.

It was after about two hours, total, of walking, that we finally came to a stop. We were on a stretch of boardwalk suspended about thirty feet off the steeply slanted, plant-encrusted ground, and where we stopped a rounded platform, about twenty feet wide, extended off to the left and connected the boardwalk with a large house. A smaller swinging bridge linked the platform to a smaller shack. Both buildings were built on spindly stilts that held their foundations forty or fifty feet above the ground, as it sloped down towards the left. A heavy mist now dispersed the light from all the paper lamps, and made everything a little surreal. From what I could see of the house, it was wood and wicker like most buildings, with a steep thatched roof, but its framework was intricately woven in arches and small patterns. The outbuilding was simpler, but simple paintings like rosemaeling across the arched door frames and other woodwork gave it a nice flavor.

"This is it," Onduin said. "I haven't used that outbuilding as a guest room in years, but the basics should still be there somewhere. I've tried to keep it clean, at least." He led me over to the front of the house, where a narrow boardwalk curved around to the swinging bridge. I was a little apprehensive about going across the bridge, which was about ten feet long, because it was very narrow, suspended fifty feet in the air, and it moved a lot. I was just going to have to get used to it in a place like this. I hung on to the ropes strung along the sides as handrails, and walked across it fast. Onduin chuckled. "That bridge has been around forever," he said. "It's not going to snap under you." He started turning the brass handle on the door, but it wouldn't move. "I had a feeling it would be like this," he said. Then he climbed onto the wall like a giant, six-legged gecko, and scurried around the side, snaking rapidly in through an open window. A few seconds later, the door rattled a few times, and finally flew open with a bang. Onduin was standing behind it, once again standing like a centaur.

"Locked and stiff," he said. "Well, here it is." He stepped to the side, and I got a clear view of the interior for the first time. The floor was built with smooth, wood planks like the floor of a gazebo, and the room was more or less round. The walls were made of wicker with wood supports, and the ceiling sloped up to an apex in the middle of the room. It seemed to be made of white-washed adobe, or something like it. A big paper lamp hung in the middle of the room, and gave off a pleasant, yellowish light. Various wooden crates and baskets made from woven twigs, filled to overflowing with who knows what, were stacked to the ceiling at the opposite side of the room from the door. One large window, with thick blue shutters but no glass, was set in the wall to the left, and under it hung a big hammock. In the middle of the floor there was an intricately-patterned red rug, and directly to my right was a simple wooden dresser topped with shelves, which were full of what looked like artifacts from somewhere. The place had a nice feel to it; very peaceful in a way. "I'm afraid I haven't got any sweet oil or combs or brushes, but once you've had some rest I know where to get some. Do you have any money with you?" Onduin asked.

I reached in my pockets, and found a dollar and fourteen cents. "Just this," I said.

He bit his lip, revealing a row of bluish, barracuda-like incisors. "I wish I recognized it... but if I don't know what it is, I seriously doubt customs will. This place doesn't get much outside exposure. Still... I should be able to support you financially for awhile."

"What do I need oil for?" I asked.

"Well, it might not look it, but water here is scarce, so people bathe with oil instead. I've met one other human who immigrated here several years ago, and as she put it, it's just another thing to get used to. It's a hard place to leave, though, once you get to know it."

I nodded. I remembered hearing somewhere that the ancient Egyptians had done the same thing. It made sense, and in a way it made things seem a little more familiar. I decided I was really exhausted. "If it's alright, I really need to sleep. I've had a long day."

He nodded. "I can see it. Well, I'll be in there," he said, pointing to the house. "When you've got some sleep, you can come over to the house, and we'll try and find out where you're from and what happened."

"Okay," I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile, and started to leave. "Thanks," I said. I meant it, but I was exhausted. He just dipped his head, and quietly left. I closed the door behind him, which made a metallic clink as it shut.

I leaned on the edge of the hammock before doing anything else. Nothing had broken under me so far, but I still didn't quite trust it. There was some sort of dark brown bedspread rolled up neatly at one end of the hammock. I unrolled it across the hammock, and found it was thick and decorated with intricate lace and beadwork. It seemed very clean. I crawled under it and fell asleep instantly. I don't know how long I slept there, but when I woke up it was light outside, and I could hear someone laughing on the boardwalk a few hundred feet away.

I got up feeling well-rested for the first time in weeks. I started walking towards the door heading for the swinging bridge, but I stopped to look at some of the artifacts on the shelves next to the door. There were some colorful plates and pottery shards, and several intricate figurines, probably ceramic, of animals I didn't recognize. At least, I thought they were animals. There were chunky mechanical components from something, a few colorful faceted crystals, and what looked like the back end of some kind of gun, covered in rust. Several notes were pinned to the back of the shelves, written in the same strange writing I'd seen everywhere in the city. Dangling from one corner by a nail were what looked like a medal, and a leather utility belt of some kind, cracking with age and covered in dust. On the bottom shelf, on top of the dresser, was a small mirror with a plain steel rim, and a hunk of blue crystal or glass, about eight inches long and four inches deep at the widest, with what I thought might be some kind of swirly written language carved into the one smooth face. It refracted little blue spots of light onto everything around it. I opened the door and started walking towards the house. I decided I'd ask Onduin about his collection.

I made it across the swinging bridge alright, and walked around to the front of the house, which had a small but very appealing porch. The main door was painted red, and had an intricately-carved frame. I knocked. After a few seconds, Onduin opened the door, wearing a wry smile. "Good afternoon," he said.

"Afternoon?"

He grinned. As it turned out, most of his teeth were pretty sharp. "It's not that bad. This planet spins on its axis once every fourteen hours or so, so days are short. But you have slept about eleven hours. You must have been about as haggard as you looked."

I smiled a little too. He held the door open, and I stepped inside. The house was roughly round, like the outbuilding, but it was much brighter and more spacious. The walls were taken up almost entirely by windows, and the floor was made of a light-colored, bright wood. There was a big table in the middle of the room, and what looked like a narrow staircase going down across the room, against the wall. A large, dome-shaped paper lamp, like the ones I'd seen elsewhere, was attached to the middle of the ceiling, which was made of wicker and intricate, stained woodwork. The table was surrounded by a wide, circular bench, which had thick red rugs tossed over various parts of it. The walls were built simply, but were hung everywhere with intricate tapestries and shelves piled over with oddities like the ones I'd seen in the outbuilding. These artifacts seemed like they had a different flavor to them, though-- there were some intricate ceramic platters and dazzling displays of crystal formations and hand-carved stone pieces, but there weren't any personal items like there had been in the outbuilding. Maybe there was more to this creature than met the eye.

"Have a seat, if you like," he said, pointing towards the table. I walked over and sat down, twiddling my thumbs. He draped himself over the bench across from me like a panther, but held the front of his body up, resting his elbows on the table. He lifted a big, black metal box on the table, with some kind of small, delicate apparatus on top. He twisted something on the box, and a projection of a spiral galaxy flickered to life about a foot over the box. The image, which rotated slowly in mid-air, was almost half as big as the table. It wasn't anywhere near as surprising as everything else I'd been through, but it was unexpected. I thought it was neat.

Onduin opened up a hatch on one side of the box, revealing some kind of keyboard. He typed something in, and the galaxy disappeared, replaced with something like a flat screen covered in the same lettering I'd seen on Onduin's notes, and in the city. "Now... what's your system called?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He suddenly looked worried. "Your solar system. What's it called?"

"Uh... well, we just call it the solar system."

He furrowed his brows. "Alright. What's your planet called?"

"Earth."

He asked me how it was spelled, and I told him. He typed it into the machine, and the letters on the floating, translucent screen changed a few times. "I have several possibilities... let's see. Only three are inhabited, and one is a scientific base. You're not a scientist, are you?" I shook my head. "Didn't think so. So that leaves two. What's your planet like? What kind of climate does it have?"

"Well... it has all sorts of climates. It depends on where you go."

"Obviously, but... is there liquid water? Are there any native life forms?"

"Yes, we have water oceans. And all our life is native."

"Including the humans?" he asked with a smirk.

"Well... yes. I mean, humans evolved on Earth."

That got his attention. His eyes went wide. "You're sure? How do you know?"

"Well, we have the bones from the animals we evolved from. Like monkeys and apes and things. And we have the fossils from Neanderthals and other early humans, and we have the artifacts from lots of ancient cities and civilizations. I mean, it's just kind of obvious. Where else would we be from?"

"Well. That would explain why it doesn't show up on a map," he said. "I'm sorry, but if I didn't know better, I'd say you'd gone completely mad. Your planet's isolated, isn't it? If you'd had any real contact with the outside, someone would know by now."

"But why doesn't anyone know where humans are from?"

"It's been a complete mystery for thousands of years. Humans have been around since before the foundation of the Republic, and not one of them has had a legitimate answer for how their species got here. There are stories about ancient space liners carrying them off in the thousands and releasing them on various worlds, but that's the closest thing to the truth anyone's been able to find. What's more, your species introduced the language we're speaking now, Galactic Basic, to the world thousands of years ago, and due to your proliferation it's become the standard language. You would not believe how many people have wasted their lives trying to find a planet that clearly is not in this galaxy."

"Then where would it be?"

"You would know better than I. Your, er, friend from the loader had to do some time-traveling to meet you, you said?"

"Yeah."

"You must have gone through some kind of wormhole. Still... the fact that you were so far apart, yet in such similar circumstances, is suspicious."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering if your meeting him was really a coincidence, or if there was some intelligent design involved. Still, that's a lot of effort to go to for one or two people. If I'm right, then someone thinks you are very important."

"But, wouldn't that be a little far-fetched?"

"Yes. It most certainly would. But you seem to know where humans are from, and that's a little far-fetched too."

"It's going to be almost impossible to get back. Isn't it?" I said.

He nodded. "Most likely. Although, if it's meant to be, I'm sure some way will open up eventually. Consider me a mystic if you like, but I believe anyone thrown as far out of the way as you is put in that position for a purpose. Perhaps once you've done whatever part you're meant to do, you'll be able to go home."

Nice, I thought. That really helped a lot. "So now what?" I said, more to myself than him.

"Don't know," he replied. "For now, I'm just happy you speak Basic. And since you seem to be in this predicament for the long haul, you should probably learn how to live and work here on your own. Although at this rate, I imagine that'll be a ways off. Still, I'll try and teach you as much as I can about the galaxy in general. Total newcomers to the scene of war and intrigue are rare, and the more ignorant you are, the more likely you are to end up dead. I don't mean to sound grim, but I've had some close calls myself, and I know my way around. You could get in serious trouble stepping out in the world as you are-- i.e., having no identity, and no records with the Empire. So I would advise you to stay put for now."

The Empire? So it wasn't limited to the loader guy. That was disturbing.

"Wait a minute," I said. "The Empire? You mean, like a evil, galactic Empire?"

He chuckled. "Don't talk like that in public! But yes, you have the general idea. How'd you first hear about that?"

"Uh... well, there are these movies... " He looked puzzled. "Like shows on a screen," I explained, "called Star Wars. And in Star Wars, there's this evil Galactic Empire, and they're fighting the Rebels... well, they were in some of the movies--"

"This is a show?" Onduin asked, looking incredulous.

"Yeah. It's fiction. It was all written by a guy named George Lucas."

He nodded, but he didn't look convinced. "Go on."

"So, the Rebels and the Jedi knights are the good guys, and--"

"Hold on. This is considered fiction?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, yes. I mean, you can't tell me all this is real?"

"As a matter of fact, I can. Whoever wrote these shows you're talking about must have had some outside exposure."

"But... these shows were written thirty years ago. He couldn't have been here now."

Onduin's eyes narrowed, and he bit his lip, propping his chin up on his knuckles. "Thirty years?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Well, this is a bit of a paradox, then. So let me see if I understand. You and your... affiliate from the loader are both here now. Your affiliate is from your planet, from sixty years before you. The person who wrote your shows, either has to be here, now, or must arrive here in the near future, perhaps even after the war is over. So... theoretically, if you've seen these shows, you should have a clear knowledge of some important events in the present, possibly in the recent past, and likely in the near future. So what would happen if you, knowing what's coming, altered the future?"

Now there was an interesting question.

"What happens in these shows? What time spans do they cover?"

"Um... well, the old ones, from twenty or thirty years ago, were about Luke Skywalker and Han Solo... Princess Leia. Plus the Rebels and the Empire, and Darth Vader... and that old nasty guy... oh yeah, the Emperor. Oh, and Yoda." Onduin's eyes got significantly wider at that name. "So it was I guess about Luke Skywalker becoming a Jedi, and turning Darth Vader back to the good side or something, and then Darth Vader killed the Emperor, and I think he died after that too. And then the war was over, and Princess Leia is Luke's sister and all that. And... there were some newer ones too. With Hayden Christensen. I remember that. It was mostly about Anakin Skywalker turning into Darth Vader." Onduin furrowed his brows, but his eyes got wide again. Like he was in disbelief.

"They're the same person?" he asked. Yes, it was definitely disbelief.

"Um... yeah. Oh, and Darth Vader is Luke's father. And I guess Leia's too."

"How? Anakin never had any children."

"Um... I don't remember. I was never really into Star Wars."

Onduin sighed. "I should have known. It was there all along, clear as day. Anakin Skywalker went sour years before he-- well, I'd heard he died, but to be perfectly honest this makes more sense. I can't believe the last two Jedi in the temple would send an honest emergency signal and then try to cover up the rest of the truth. I don't understand it. You know, I've always known something about it all wasn't right. I'm happy to finally hear the truth."

This time, I felt no reaction to this bizarre new twist on my situation. I just felt like laughing. This was way beyond the initial Blazing Saddles-esque absurdity I'd been faced with for the past few weeks. This was just unreal. As if everything else wasn't unreal enough. I was in Star Wars. And Star Wars, it now seemed, was in fact a true story about real people. Somewhere out there, there really was a Darth Vader and a Luke Skywalker, and somewhere out there a Rebellion was fighting an Empire. Onduin's explanation was as logical as anything I could think of: someone, possibly George Lucas, had come here just like me, heard about all this, and then somehow gotten back to Earth and made a few million dollars with the story. If I was here, and a bona fide Nazi was here, then why not a movie director? It occurred to me that my life had really gone completely insane. At least I knew where I was.

"Do you remember anything else of the plot?" Onduin asked, breaking my reverie.

"Not really." I paused to think for a few seconds. "So... what do you think I should do? I mean, I guess I kind of know what's going on, but I can't even read those symbols I've been seeing everywhere," I said, pointing at the holographic screen.

"I'm not sure. I'm certain now, there's some reason why you're here. You may not know much, but what you do know is critical information. I'm almost certain there are only three other people in the galaxy who know the truth of this as well as you. One of them is the Emperor himself, since he was the real architect of the Empire and everything that's happened in the last few decades. The other two are the Jedi masters who I now know have been covering up the truth about Anakin Skywalker all these years. One of them you mentioned-- master Yoda. The other was Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Oh. Obi-Wan. I remember him."

"That's good. What do you remember?"

"Not much. He was an old guy in a robe." Onduin chuckled. "He put it in Luke's head to be a Jedi, I think. They were on this desert planet... And there was C-3P0 and R2-D2, the robots. They were being chased by the Empire or something. I think they were with Princess Leia at first."

"The droids?"

I nodded.

"Do you remember anything else about master Kenobi?"

"Um... oh. Darth Vader killed him on the Death Star. Wow, I did not know I remembered this much."

"He-- what? What's the Death Star?"

"It's... like this floating space station or something. They destroy a planet with it."

"What?! How?"

"They had like a big laser or something."

"Which planet?"

"I don't remember. I think it was Princess Leia's planet, but I'm really not sure."

"I don't know that name. I'll have to look it up now. Maybe there's something we can do."

"No. I am not going to go join an interplanetary war."

"I understand. I'm sorry; my zeal overthrows my discernment every now and then."

"Well, the Rebels take care of 'em anyway. They blow up the Death Star."

Onduin nodded. "Perhaps I can keep myself away from that conflict, at least. You know, this has become a rather spectacular day."

Something suddenly bothered me about Onduin. The relics in his outbuilding were very mysterious, and the cracked utility belt bubbled into my mind. It reminded me of the belt Obi-Wan had in the movies. And Onduin hadn't just called Obi-Wan Obi-Wan. He'd called him "master Kenobi." Was it remotely possible that I had just spent the past ten minutes talking to some kind of Jedi? He did seem very perceptive-- psychic, almost. He'd picked up on that parting look the German had given me, and provided an explanation that almost made sense. And he did seem particularly interested in what I knew about the Jedi. I remembered the loader crewmember who'd been rude to me the day before. He'd seemed to think the Jedi were nothing but trouble brewing. I remembered how the hazmat guys had been talking about something called "red ribs." I decided I'd ask about that before I ventured to ask whether Onduin had Jedi connections.

"What are-- or is-- red ribs? I heard somebody talking about it. Do you know what that means?" I asked.

"It means Rebels," he said. "You know what their starships look like? They have red markings on the sides, and Rebel rank stripes are often red too. So that's how they got their nickname."

"Oh." I hesitated before asking the next question. Onduin was looking at me, but not saying anything. I suddenly got the feeling he knew I was deciding whether or not to ask him something. I decided I may as well come out with it. "So... were you ever involved with the Jedi at all?"

He gave a little smile. "Well, there's a long story."

"I'm not in a hurry to be anywhere. If it's not a problem, I mean."

"No, that's fine... but there are two conditions. The first is obvious: strict confidentiality. You seem to be on the right side, so I think you're trustworthy, which is why I didn't just say no. The second is that you get something to eat first, because I don't need supernatural abilities to see that you haven't eaten in awhile. Humans get an acidic smell to their breath when they don't eat, and it gets worse when they haven't eaten in over a standard day."

"So what do people eat here?" I asked. This was getting interesting. Every time I thought I had my questions answered, as many new ones appeared.

"Mostly dry, roasted vegetables and fresh meat. None of the fauna here is really all that exotic, other than being adapted for arid mountain life. Everything is dry, but as sustenance goes it's not bad. Come on; I know a place a half-hour from here where you can get something to eat. Then I can spill my guts about my glorious past." He wrapped up his last sentence with a wry grin.