Chapter Text
Jon stares at the starship, then at the beings gathered opposite him in front of the thing, then at the starship again.
“I thank you, very much,” he begins after the third take, haltingly but sincerely, still feeling lost and confused and taken aback, “but you need not pay me.”
The Force’s prompting brought him here last month, to a small, isolated but well-defended Outer Rim planet, which turned out to have been having problems with an overpopulation of smaller predators because the natives had hunted their natural predators into near extinction. He has kulled the number humanely, given the kills to the natives so that they will not be wasted, and set up an area where the nearly extinct species have a chance to try to recover from the brink of extinction without endangering the sapients. And just now, as he was about to board the expedition ship to the nearest system with an active galactic spaceport, a group of representatives of the natives politely ambushed him and just as politely pushed him towards this starship.
Unfortunately, as unfailingly polite and generous as they are, these beings are stubborn.
And passive-aggressive.
And as patient as a Jedi soaking in the Force.
And, most importantly, unwilling to take a no, regarding the being they consider their saviour, after he has solved the problem that their own technology has not managed and will not manage before it’s too late without ruining a good swath of the planet.
And now, the Force stirs, coalesces.
Just enough to nudge him.
Towards the starship.
Not for the first time, Jon thinks that the Force really has a skewed sense of humour.
He doesn’t know what to do with this small-sized but well-armed vessel. Not for more than the trip to the nearest galactic spaceport, certainly. And abandoning the starship there would insult and waste such a kind and thoughtful – if extravagantly so – gesture. The gifters do seem to expect him to keep it, in any case. But having possessions that are not necessary and on his person seems so frivolous and… discomfiting, not to mention cumbersome.
`Well, kriff it. If the Force wills it….`
He bows in gratitude once more and thanks the natives as sincerely as he can, this time for the gift that he will take. Then, releasing his unease and bewilderment into the Force, he turns away and tries not to trudge on his way up the ramp of the ship. It would bely his words of gratitude, in so insulting a manner at that! Master Knol calls him a vagabond, but he knows what manners are!
And he can’t bring himself to be surprised when, inside, he glimpses that the ship is also well-stocked and well-equipped for habitation of at least four standard-human beings.
`I shouldn’t have told them about the others.`
Turning back round, he bows for the last time to the natives, then uses the Force to hit the button to raise the ramp and close the airlock.
Sealed inside, he hurries to the cockpit, feeling horribly lonely in the empty space just for himself, though he can still sense the bright presences of the gifters outside.
`Next time, I’ll disclaim and decline any gifts right from the start.`