Twist of Fate/Part 3

New though she was to the field, even Narasi understood that the walk from the chapter house to the hangar was not the appropriate venue to discuss either their mission to Taanab or their next destination. She walked along in her master's wake, keeping the hood of her Jedi robe up to cover her ears and shadow her face. She noticed many people studying the Jedi and sensed a range of emotions at their presence, but only the handful close enough to get a good look at her features evidenced the disgust that told her they had marked her for a Zygerrian.

In the hangar the two Jedi found a slightly worn-down light freighter waiting for them. Tirien tapped a code into a panel on the ship's hull, and the ramp dropped to admit them.

"Senator Iltek gave us a freighter?" Narasi asked, impressed.

"He gave the Order a freighter," Tirien corrected, but then admitted, "but I think he intended it for our use, and the Council agreed."

"What's it called?"

Tirien glanced at the underside of the ship. "GX-521-A3."

Narasi rolled her eyes. "We can't call it that! We need to give it a name, Master."

Tirien did not deign to respond. Narasi explored GX-521-A3 while her master got it ready to take off, neither of which took long; the living quarters amounted to cramped bunks, a basic but clean refresher, a small food prep area, and an open area Narasi thought might just be big enough for lightsaber training. The rest of the interior was devoted to mechanical sections and maintenance hatches, as well as the cockpit, where she joined Tirien as the blue sky turned fiery bright, then gave way to the black of space. It lasted only as long as it took the navicomputer to yield a calculation; Tirien guided the hyperspace lever forward and the stars blurred together into the blue-white mural of hyperspace.

"We have about an hour before we arrive," Tirien announced.

"Where are we going, Master?"

"Gizer."

Narasi puzzled it over; Gizer was nearby on the Perlemian, but closer to Sith space. "Are we expecting an attack?"

Tirien shook his head. "It's not that kind of mission. The Reconciliation Council—"

"The Reconciliation Council?" Narasi asked blankly. "Not the High Council?"

She stared at her master until his vexed look registered, then winced. "Sorry, Master."

Tirien exhaled through his nose, but said, "The Reconciliation Council wants us to…bring a lost nerf back to the herd, so to speak."

Her confusion must have showed, because Tirien leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Did they ever tell Initiates about Gray Jedi, or was that another thing your minders thought it best you didn't know about?"

Narasi frowned, hating to be playing catch-up yet again, but she admitted honestly, "I've never heard of them, Master."

"It's a term for Jedi who follow the light, but not the rules—the ones who will oppose the Sith, but not always take direction from the High Council."

"But…but it's the Council!" Narasi protested.

Tirien nodded. "So it is. But some Jedi think they know best anyway, and they go off on their own crusades."

"And we're looking for one?" Narasi guessed.

"We don't have to look," Tirien answered, the frown on his face mirrored in his voice. "He's coming to us."

He rotated his chair to stare out the viewport at hyperspace. "He's a Jedi Knight named Karr Shadeez. Apparently he's been leading his own force for close to twenty years, and has resisted contact with the High Council."

"Do you know him, Master?" Narasi asked; the name meant nothing to her.

Tirien shook his head. "No, but I've heard of him. Many other Jedi follow him, along with an entire battle group of non-Force-sensitives.  He's half the reason you never heard of Zirist Lakalt until I told you his name; he's been checking the Sith in galactic south for years, and he's won victories that Republic Intelligence thought were impossible."

Narasi thought about it. "And that's why they want us to talk to him? To bring them all back home?"

"That's only part of it. He's not coming to us, really; he's coming to Gizer.  He's got a meeting with Admiral Arstyn."

That name Narasi did know, and not just because of preparation on the way to Taanab. "The Republic admiral? The 'Bulwark of Lantillies'?"

"The same," Tirien confirmed. "He's our best commander on the Perlemian, but he's from Gizer. According to Intelligence, he's meeting with Shadeez to gain additional forces to defend his homeworld."

"Is he expecting an attack, Master? Or is he planning to attack the Sith himself?"

"Unknown. But either way, the Reconciliation Council wants the Republic to maintain control over the defense of the Perlemian.  I'm to bring Shadeez back into the fold if at all possible—and make sure Arstyn doesn't leave it."

"You are?" Narasi asked uncertainly. "What about me?"

Tirien turned his chair back to face her, and she forced herself to meet those searching, narrowed yellow eyes. Eventually his mouth firmed.

"You're my Padawan," he said, in that discontent-but-resigned tone Narasi knew so well; she noticed it was starting to sting less through repetition. "You'll be at my side. But you have to follow my lead and do what you're told.  Diplomacy isn't like combat, Narasi; entire negotiations can fall through with one wrong word.  Learn from your mistake on Taanab and don't repeat it."

Narasi remembered again the dead guards, and couldn't quite repress a shudder of shame. "I won't, Master."