Twist of Fate/Part 9

Tirien led the search through the maintenance tunnels as soon as they had a way down, but he knew immediately it was hopeless. There was no echo of Alecto in the Force, and after the catwalk she had apparently Forced her way through any obstacles rather than leave a trail of lightsaber marks. When the report came through an hour later of two dead technicians and a missing cargo shuttle in a hangar bay on the opposite side of the core, he gave up the ghost.

Narasi was waiting in the cockpit of GX-521-A3 by the time he returned, dispirited and disconsolate. He sat in the pilot's chair, holding his robe in his hands; Rhosa's blood had dried on it, and the dark spots cracked as he twisted the fabric.

"Jylo?" Narasi asked hoarsely. Tirien glanced at her and saw the redness in her eyes and the tremble in her jaw. At some level he knew a good master should say something about there being no death, but the Force, but he found he lacked the energy.

"He'll live," the Pantoran answered. Whether he would be glad of that when he came out of the bacta tank to find Rhosa dead was another matter.

"Did you talk to the Council?"

"They've been informed."

"Were…are they mad at us?"

Tirien gave a mirthless snort through his nose, looking down at the blood-stained robe in his hand. "Disappointed in circumstances, perhaps. They're not nearly as angry with us as I am."

He sensed Narasi's trepidation. "Us?"

Tirien drew a deep breath, running through a brief calming exercise before he turned to face his Padawan. He would not take out on her his sorrow at Rhosa's death, or the calamity of Arstyn and Shadeez's assassinations; they had perhaps been his fault for not sensing Alecto's presence in time, but there was nothing Narasi could have done. But she deserved to be called to account for her own failings. "You had no business interfering in that fight, Narasi."

She stared at him. "I was trying to help, Master!"

"I didn't need your help," he retorted. "I told you to help Rhosa. I understand you couldn't save her, and that's not your fault, but you were no match for Alecto and you should've known it."

He rose, willing to leave it at that, but Narasi followed him into the hold. "She told me to help you!"

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"Rhosa! She said, 'Help Tirien.  She'll destroy him if you don't save him.'"

Tirien stared. Alecto had been skillful, it was true; they were evenly matched. But Narasi's tone made it sound like it was he and not she who was the green Padawan challenging a Sith assassin. "She was wrong. You nearly got both of us killed, and Alecto got away because I had to protect you."

Narasi looked deeply wounded by the accusation, but she pulled her lips back to expose her fangs and said, "We could've taken her together, Master! If we worked together!"

Glowering, Tirien said, "Enough. You're a neophyte Padawan with no experience dueling a Sith Lord, and you thought you could take someone like that?  That's pure pride, Narasi; you had no training for a fight like that and you charged in anyway."

"Because you haven't taught me!" Narasi cried. "You're my Master! If you helped me learn we could fight better together!  Why won't you train me so I can help you?"

Tirien could feel his temper rising, and he drew a breath for a calming exercise, but Narasi pressed, "What?! What is it?"

"I work better alone," he snapped.

Narasi stamped her foot on the cargo hold, and her anger leaked into the Force, knocking over a box of tools nearby. "If you want to do everything without me, why did you even want me as your Padawan?!"

"I didn't want you!"

Tirien remembered Argus Z'dar warning him that Narasi would think she was being pitied if she knew the truth of her apprenticeship, but as so many Jedi Guardians seemed to, the Boltrunian battlemaster had sorely underestimated how dangerous words could be. Shock and hurt filled Narasi's face; Tirien might have drawn the lightsaber from his hip and run her through. He had to force himself not wince as her anguish hit him in the Force.

"What?" she whispered.

There was no use denying it now; he would not lie to her. "The Jedi Council appointed you my Padawan," he answered tightly. "I didn't want you as my Padawan. I didn't want any Padawan."

Narasi's mouth moved without sound for a long moment. "You…don't want me?"

Though he owed her truth, Tirien would not be so cruel as to say the word to her face. But she drew the meaning of his hesitation, and squeezed her red eyes shut. Turning away, she ducked into their meager quarters, sitting down on her bunk and putting her face in her hands.

Tirien felt a stab of guilt, then annoyance at himself for that very guilt. He had told her the truth, and only when she had all but wrested it from him. Moreover, though periodic failure was part of apprenticeship, Jedi Padawans had to learn from their failures, and she had been wrong to intervene in his duel with Alecto, whatever Rhosa might have said to the contrary. Tirien could not let himself be swayed by sympathy, or the way Narasi's arms shook and her hands muffled her quiet, gasping sobs…

Seeking a brief moment of meditation to cleanse his mind, Tirien reached into the Force. Immersing himself in its current, he felt the touch of the future, manifold possibilities unfolding from this moment…

And then ice crept down his back, seeping into his veins and chilling his heart. Gasping, he came back to himself, eyes wide. "Something's wrong."

Narasi sniffled, looking up at him, hurt all over her face. Before either of them could speak, klaxons began to blare outside the ship.

Leaving her in the hold, Tirien ran for the boarding ramp, bolting down into the hangar bay. Surprise filled the Force in the room, but Republic soldiers were already running for battle stations, and crews were working to prep fighters.

"Master Jedi!"

He turned to find a Human officer running his way. "What's going on?"

"The Sith fleet," the man replied with dread. "We're under attack."