A Certain Point of View/Part 3

The descent in the turbolift passed in a haze, but for once Tirien did not call Narasi on her abstraction; he seemed lost in thought himself. Narasi brushed her cheek; Ayson had pressed his little face against hers and left teardrops there. Even wiped away, they seemed to burn against her skin. She wasn't sure why his hug had hit her so hard; she could sense his unhappiness, but she had been beside other Jedi as they had fallen in battle and taken it in better stride…

Tirien tugged her to a halt and she realized they were halfway to the lobby. Her master's eyes were narrowed, and as Narasi followed his gaze and stretched out her senses with the Force, she felt more life outside the main door than she had been expecting. "Master?"

"I think they're here for me," he said, mouth twisting. "This is exactly the sort of thing I was trying to avoid."

"What should we do?" He looked down at her, and Narasi wasn't sure what to make of his expression. "Master?"

He shook his head, blinking as if recentering himself. "Go out the side door. I'll deal with the crowd."

"Back to the Second Chance?"

"No, not yet." He looked upwards, as if trying to see Dorje and Ayson through the floors. "We're not giving up that easily."

"So…what do you want me to do?"

He looked back at her with a faint smile. "Have some free time. Consider it a furlough.  Go through the capital and see some sights."

Narasi stared at him blankly; that was not like him at all. "Uh…okay? But is that smart, Master?  I mean, with me…being a Zygerrian?"

Some lingering hurt or anger must have leaked into her tone, because Tirien recovered some of the expression she was used to. "You're a Jedi who happens to be a Zygerrian, not a Zygerrian who happens to be a Jedi," he said firmly. "Trust in the Force and have confidence in yourself."

"Yes, Master."

"I'll comm you when I have a plan."

"Okay. Uh…may the Force be with you, I guess?"

"And also with you."

Narasi left him there, bracing himself as if he was about to wade into an army of Sith rather than admirers. She took a small service door out into an alley, then followed it out the opposite side onto an unfamiliar street. The afternoon was still colder than she found pleasant, and she zipped her jacket back up. She considered slipping her lightsaber into her pocket for easier access, but remembered Tirien's injunction to trust in the Force and ultimately left it beneath her coat.

She strolled down the street with her hood down and her head held high. I am a Jedi. Some Pantorans did double-takes when they spotted her; others turned away or eyed her with distrust or distaste. A handful did not seem to notice her at all, which was almost pleasant in comparison. Narasi tried to immerse herself in the Force, letting it pull her through the city, wandering without a direction and feeling strange doing it; she had become used to moving with purpose at Tirien's side.

She found a multistory mall with skybridges connecting it to nearby buildings. She browsed along the storefronts inside, stopping to admire a display of jewelry. Bangles and elaborate bracers were common among Zygerrians, but the last thing she wanted was to indulge the stereotype. She brushed one of her large ears, remembering the piercing she had gotten for Toprawa. It had closed after she discarded the stud along with the rest of her swamp-soiled clothing, but she wondered about getting a new one. Would that be all right, or a sign of attachment and possession?

She walked away still contemplating it, but as if answer, she found herself in front of a well-appointed tattoo parlor. It made sense, she realized; since nearly every Pantoran had them, she imagined good artists could do well. She stopped just inside, looking at the Pantorans being tattooed; all appeared her age or slightly older.

A Pantoran woman approached her, looking more curious than critical. "If you have a design in mind, we can probably accommodate it," she hedged, "but I mostly do clan designs."

"No, it's okay, I'm just visiting," Narasi said. Then, looking back into the parlor, she asked, "Do most Pantorans get their clan tattoos at this age?"

"Around the time they come of age, yeah," the tattooist agreed.

"But the little kids I've seen," Narasi replied, "they all had the marks too."

"Nah, they use face paint. Tattoos look better for a lifetime when you're older.  Figured you'd know that, though," the tattooist added with a frown. "Looks like you tried some yourself."

She pointed to Narasi cheek. Narasi brushed it and her fingertips came away faintly yellow. It was the same cheek Ayson had leaned against, she realized; the paint must have run with his tears. But that meant… "So a five-year-old Pantoran probably wouldn't have tattoos?"

"It'd be weird parents who wanted their kid tattooed that young," the artist confirmed.

Narasi thanked her and ambled back out, frowning and thinking. Tirien had left Pantora at five and never returned. He preached an absence of attachment, and yet he bore his family's sigil permanently etched into his skin. He had made that choice as a Padawan older than Narasi, or perhaps even as a Knight. Why?

She pored over it in the food court, eating a wrap she barely tasted and watching the Pantorans around her. As she watched parents with their children, couples, and business associates, she felt even more like an alien than she already was. Since becoming a Jedi she hadn't spent extensive time around civilians, apart from her few weeks on Milagro, which had hardly been observing them in their natural condition. Trying to get a read on it, she wondered if it was the lack of purpose; even in the long months of "contemplating a different perspective" aboard the Crescentia, nothing she or the other Jedi did was without purpose. Combat training was for the war, meditation deepened her connection to the Force, and of course there were Tirien's art lectures… Smiling to herself, Narasi looked around her and wondered why no one else seemed as focused.

Her gaze fell on a little Pantoran girl who couldn't have been more than a year or two old, still unsteady on her legs as she toddled around her parents. Narasi smiled at her, and the girl grinned back; some of her teeth still hadn't come in. Narasi sensed a sudden flash of alarm and looked up in time to catch the mother's eyes; the woman's defiant glare barely masked the fear beneath as she scooped her child up and held the little girl away from Narasi.

A surge of anger and pain catapulted Narasi to her feet, and the woman shrank back. For a second her fear was empowering…and then Narasi remembered Toprawa, and shame robbed her of power and anger in a single blow, leaving her more miserable than before. She turned in a rush and walked right into a Pantoran about her age.

"Whoa!" He staggered a bit as Narasi automatically regained her balance. When he got a good look at her, he retreated another pace and stepped on one of his friends. "You're a Zygerrian!"

The girl behind him dropped her sandwich, and Narasi extended a hand, freezing it in midair and levitating it back up. As the girl took it with shaking hands, Narasi said coldly, "I'm a Jedi."

For a moment they all stared, open-mouthed, and Narasi became conscious of the hush that had fallen over the food court, Pantorans of all ages staring at her. She thought of Tirien chiding her for showing off her powers to Dorje Sokos, but before she could come up with a way to escape her predicament, the boy she had walked into said, "Oh. Oooh."

"That's awesome!" said a girl behind him.

"Do you wanna have lunch with us?!" a different boy asked, eyes wide.

"Uh…" Narasi hesitated, but all five of them—three boys and two girls—were looking at her now and radiating excitement, though they were all over the spectrum, from enthusiasm to trepidation. But she was desperate now not to cause more of a scene, so she said, "…sure."

The hastily pushed tables together and scraped chairs across the floor; the boy Narasi had walked into held her chair for her as she sat down. She unzipped her jacket, but wondered if it was a mistake when the boy and girl on either side of her immediately looked down at her lightsaber.

"So you're a real Jedi?" one of the girls asked; she was still holding the sandwich Narasi had rescued for her.

As opposed to an imaginary one? "Yeah, I am."

"So can you like…see the future?"

"Well, I never have," Narasi admitted. "But some Jedi can, sometimes."

"And you can move stuff with your mind?"

"Yeah, stupid, didn't you see her catch Eleaia's cup?"

"What're you doing on Pantora?" asked one of the boys before that could become an argument.

"Well…" Narasi remembered Tirien's evasiveness with Torai Cachi at the spaceport and shook her head. "I can't get into the specifics. Jedi stuff."

They did not seem offended; on the contrary, they all grinned at one another as if she had invited them into a special Jedi inner circle. To change the subject, she focused on a boy wearing bandages on his cheeks. "What happened?"

She realized belatedly that it might be a rude question, but he grinned wider, then winced as his face stretched. "I just got my clan tattoos. Turned sixteen two days ago."

"What clan?" Narasi asked, mostly to keep him talking; unless the answer was Kal-Di, it was unlikely to mean anything to her.

"Sarzo," he said, confirming her suspicion. "Gakel Sarzo."

Introductions went around the table; mercifully, none of them seemed to know her by name. Divar, the boy she had walked into, asked, "So you're a Jedi Knight, Narasi?"

"Well, not yet. I'm a Padawan—an apprentice Jedi," she added as she saw their looks of blank incomprehension. "When my master's trained me enough, I can test to be a Knight."

"Who's your master?" asked Eleaia, one of the girls.

Walked right into that one, Narasi, she chided herself. Not about the fame… "Well…you see…"

Gakel held up his datapad, eyes wide. "Tirien Kal-Di."

Narasi looked at it in surprise and saw a trending news topic: J EDI K NIGHT T IRIEN K AL -D I RETURNS TO P ANTORA, VISITS I SALIUS . Even as she watched the screen the number of viewers and distributors increased, and all five teenage Pantorans turned to look at her.

"Well…yeah," she admitted, stuck. "He is."

They looked at one another, and then the floodgates opened.

"That's so prime!"

"What's he like?!"

"The Tirien Kal-Di?!"

"Did he rescue you from Zygerria?"

That one threw Narasi for a loop. "Uh…wait, what? No, I only met him when he became my master a couple years ago."

They seemed disappointed by that; Narasi wondered if they had conjured up some epic fantasy of Tirien slaying Zygerrian slavers to rescue a little girl. Admittedly she wouldn't put it past him, but it was far more grandiose and less depressing than the true story of her recruitment. "But he's still a great Jedi."

"Is he really handsome?" asked Eleaia. She pressed her lips together as she grinned, and Narasi realized she was swooning.

"I…don't really think about him that way." Narasi squirmed; the thought was so odd she detached from it at once. Gakel frowned at Eleaia in a possessive way, and Narasi realized she wasn't the only one disturbed by the girl mooning over her master.

"Never mind that," Divar inserted quickly. "He's Tirien Kal-Di! What've you done with him?!"

"Well…" Narasi remembered her master's discomfort with his legend; she had felt he was underselling himself then, and her opinion hadn't changed. "We fought Darth Alecto together."

That seemed a safe contribution; the Pantorans at the spaceport had already known it. Her audience appeared suitably awed; she had recaptured Gakel's attention completely. "You've fought Darth Alecto?"

"With my master," Narasi clarified, but couldn't help adding, "twice."

Gakel whistled, and Irri shifted before she asked, "Is she as terrible as they say?"

Narasi did not want to admit how much the Mirialan frightened her even to herself, let alone to this group. "She's tough, but my master's just as good as Alecto is."

"Is he here about the whole Sujimis Collective thing?" asked Presyl.

"The what?"

"Yeah, the Chairman probably wants to look like he's doing something about it," Presyl said knowingly; Gakel rolled his eyes. "If he keeps doing nothing, he won't be Chairman for long."

Narasi wasn't sure what to make of that. "I don't know anything about that," she said. "This is my first time in this part of space."

"Have you been all over the galaxy, then?" Irri asked.

"This is the farthest out I've come," Narasi admitted. "But yeah, we've been to a lot of—"

"Isn't Zygerria way out in the Rim too?" Eleaia interrupted, frowning.

Narasi flinched. "I wasn't counting Zygerria."

Something in her voice apparently warned them off the subject, but they quizzed her for a while on the galaxy's sights: her favorite planet, the things she and Tirien had done until she ran out of different ways to say "I can't tell you because you aren't a Jedi", the breadth of alien cultures and customs. They were learning Huttese in school too, and all six of them tried to continue their conversation in that language until Divar asked Narasi how many ugly hats she had visited and she responded by inadvertently threatening to feed his grandmother to a Wookiee; they switched back to Basic amidst their laughs.

"So are you on a break now?" Presyl asked.

"What do you mean?" Narasi replied, still chuckling.

"Well, we're on break," he explained, gesturing to his friends. "You know, a vacation."

Narasi cocked her head. "We don't really take vacations."

"What, like…ever?" Eleaia asked, baffled.

"I mean, sometimes I have downtime at the Jedi Temple or…" Aboard the Crescentia, she almost said, until she remembered they were civilians. "…or something like that, but I'm still training almost every day."

They stared at her as if she had just told them she spent her days counting rocks. "It's interesting," she said, a little defensively. "And it's important stuff."

"Yeah…" Gakel said, "but don't you ever want to…I dunno, just hang out with some friends? See a holo, take a few days to just chill out without worrying about anything?"

Narasi wasn't sure whether it sounded pleasant or not; the concept was too alien. "We're at war," she pointed out. She remembered Dorje Sokos's cold disapproval of her service, and she took a little vindictive pride in using his own word as she said, "And I'm a soldier in that war. I'm a Jedi."

"What about going on a date?" Divar asked.

There was an unusual edge to his tone that Narasi couldn't quite place. Reflecting on her conversation with Tirien that morning, Narasi said, "Jedi aren't really supposed to date."

"Looks like you're not marrying Tirien Kal-Di after all," Gakel told Eleaia, who punched him in the arm. "Ow!"

"But a soldier," Presyl enthused. "You must've been in loads of battles!"

He seemed so excited about it that Narasi frowned; in that moment all she could think of was that black night in Pandath, watching Saotu and Finja burn. "A few, yeah."

"How awesome is that?!" Gakel said, grinning. "What, like Taanab? Were you at Taanab with Tirien Kal-Di?!"

Even though it had ended with hope, Narasi didn't like to remember those two months. "Yeah, I was…"

"You must've killed a bunch of Sith, then!" Presyl concluded.

Narasi stared at him, and he looked confused. "What? They're the bad guys, right?  You're a Jedi, you must've killed some Sith."

"I…" Narasi looked at his bemused smile and felt the first stirring of dislike. She remembered Dorje Sokos asking her the same question in a completely different tone, as if killing was the worst thing she could possibly do, like she was some sort of monster. Presyl wasn't that, but the excited way he talked about killing Sith, like they were opposing characters in some game… Narasi remembered the oily slick of Ishi Tib intestines on her claws, the smell of burnt meat as her lightsaber cleaved down Sith soldiers while maimed beings screamed around her…

"Wish Pantora was in the Republic," Presyl said while Narasi was still struggling for an answer. "I'd sign up for the Republic Army."

"Me too," Divar agreed as Gakel nodded. "Maybe if the Collective gets off the ground we'll have a chance that way, at least."

"Why?" Narasi asked.

Gakel looked at her like she had lost her mind. "It'd be awesome! Shoot some bad guys, get some medals, be a hero…"

He winked at Eleaia, who rolled her eyes but smirked all the same. Narasi narrowed hers. "Unless some dark sider cut off your head."

The Pantorans all looked at her, and Narasi felt several pulses of surprise. "Whoa," Presyl said. "That got serious all of a sudden."

"It's war," Narasi snapped. "It is serious."

Divar raised his hands. "Hey, we didn't mean to make you upset or anything."

Was she upset? Narasi tried to get a grasp on exactly what she was feeling, but before she could do more than take a deep breath, her companions' eyes shifted over her shoulder, and she felt them become much more alert. Looking back too, she saw two mall security Pantorans walk up to them.

"We heard there was a Zygerrian causing a disturbance here," one of them said. He hooked his thumbs through his belt and glowered down at her.

"What?!" Narasi demanded. "I'm not doing anything!"

"She's not," Divar said loyally. "We're just having lunch."

The other guard gave Divar a look, and the boy fell silent. Narasi realized with a start that her companions were intimidated. She remembered the scarlet haze of Darth Alecto's lightsaber and the woman's cruel laugh. She thought of facing a wall of Sith troops, lined up to fire on her and Aldayr. She recalled the cacophony of mortars and artillery fire on Taanab, and as she thought of it all she looked at the two guards, posturing for effect, and laughed in their faces.

They both recoiled a little, but the first said, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Hey!" Eleaia said. "Divar's right, she's not doing anything wrong!"

"I don't need to go anywhere," Narasi insisted.

"You're making these people uncomfortable," the second guard said. "They're just going about their business, they don't need to be bothered by people like you."

"People like me," Narasi repeated in a caustic tone. She stood and threw one side of her coat back to reveal her lightsaber. "You mean Jedi?"

They both hesitated, and Narasi had an idea. Waving a hand, she said, "I don't need to go anywhere."

"Yes," the first guard said with finality, a wary eye on her lightsaber. "You do."

Narasi had never before had occasion to use this skill, though she had seen Tirien employ it. Her Pantoran companions were all watching her, as were most of those nearby. She imagined the scene—the Zygerrian Jedi revealing herself to be a durasheet krayt, unable overcome even two mall cops short of drawing her blade. The potential embarrassment and annoyance sharpened her focus, and she breathed a Forceful suggestion with her mind as she waved her hand and repeated, "I don't need to go anywhere."

"You…" the security man said, then shook his head, taking his hands off his belt. "You don't need to go anywhere."

"You don't need to go anywhere," his partner echoed.

"You should probably check the candy store," Narasi added coolly. "Don't want any kids making off with anything."

"We should check the candy store," the first agreed, turning away.

"We don't want any kids making off with anything…" his partner commented as they walked away.

Well, that was easier than I thought, she reflected as she leaned back and her companions patted her on the back and shoulders.

"That was amazing!" Gakel crowed.

"Teach them to push around a Jedi!" Eleaia agreed.

"Nice job, Narasi!" Presyl said. "Looks like you won another battle!"

His words brought Narasi down from the thrill of victory to the moment at hand, and she remembered where their conversation had been going. She looked from each to the next, reading the triumph and glee on each face; only Irri seemed a little uneasy with what had happened. It really was a victory for them, she realized with a start; prevailing over mall cops might be the most exciting thing that had happened to them in recent memory. She found herself torn between amusement and pity.

"I probably should go," she heard herself say.

"What?! No!" Gakel insisted. "The hell with them! You should hang with us today."

"Yeah, you can tell us more about the galaxy," Divar suggested.

"No, really, I…I have to go," Narasi said. "My master'll need me soon. Sorry, guys."

"Will you tell him we said hi?" Eleaia pleaded. Gakel rolled his eyes.

"I…yeah, sure…"

"Can we get a holo with you before you go?" Divar asked, eyes wide.

"I…no…look, I'm sorry, guys, I really have to go. Thanks for talking with me."

She turned and walked away, ignoring the continued calls behind her, moving with purpose through the food court and taking the turbolift to the roof. She felt eyes on her as she ascended, but tried to ignore them. The glass walls finally vanished behind permacrete before the turbolift dropped her off in a park on the roof.

She walked out into the early afternoon, looking at the red grass and auburn trees. Every rooftop in view seemed to have a park of its own, and a few Pantorans milled about on each. Narasi walked to a bench and sat, zipping her jacket up over her lightsaber again as freighters rumbled by far overhead.

It always came back to being a Zygerrian, she reflected unhappily. Well, except for her brief acquaintances, but she wasn't sure what to make of their acceptance. She knew she had once had a similarly naïve view of war, but she had only been an Initiate then; experience sobered her naïveté quickly. By her age people should know better. Was this what Dorje Sokos wanted? For Ayson to be as oblivious as these kids? Narasi shook her head disgustedly.

On a whim she took out her Jedi beacon, plugging it into her datapad and typing a message to Aldayr.


 * O N P ANTORA . W HOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE HERE ADMIRE MY MASTER, BUT HE'S KIND OF WEIRD ABOUT IT —I DON'T THINK HE LIKES THE ATTENTION .  M ASTER D ARAKHAN'S FAMOUS, RIGHT ?  W HAT'S IT LIKE FOR YOU ?  –N ARASI 

She considered adding the latest incarnation of anti-Zygerrian sentiment, or asking him how he felt about being a 'child soldier', but ultimately sent the message without either. She could feel eyes on her again, and considered moving on; the chilly wind shook the red leaves until they looked like crackling fire, and Narasi thought it might be pleasant to walk through the parks, ignoring the Pantorans. But some part of her insisted on staying stubbornly in place, not wanting to be set in motion by their judgment yet again.

Gradually she became aware of one focus sharper than the others, and she looked up. Raising a hand, she started, "You don't—"

She cut off; it was not the latest round of security she had expected, but a Pantoran a few years older than her—old enough to be a man rather than a boy, although a young one. She thought oddly of her master, though the Force clearly wasn't with this man. He stared at her, and Narasi sighed. "Yeah, I'm a Zygerrian."

"Yeah, I can see that," the man replied, rolling his yellow eyes, but he refocused quickly. That intense look was disturbingly familiar. "You're the Zygerrian Jedi."

Narasi frowned, and the man raised a datapad, as if that was answer enough. She wondered exactly what her lunch companions had shared with Isalius.

"You're Tirien Kal-Di's apprentice."

Narasi started to reach for her lightsaber, but stopped herself; the man's mind was sharpened with intensity, but not a threat. "Yeah, I am. Who…?"

She looked at him and her eyes widened in comprehension. The facial structure was similar, she realized, but it was the clan tattoos that had really caught her subconscious's attention. It clicked a second before he spoke.

"I'm Rylar Kal-Di."