Sins of the Father/Part 18

Narasi sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths to keep her heart from fluttering. Tirien stood with his back to her, hands braced against the wall, head bowed; Narasi could feel his atypical agitation. She took a deep breath, then said, "I can do this."

Tirien drew a deep breath through his nose—so deep Narasi could hear it from two meters away. He didn't reply, though, and Narasi shifted her weight, her ears backing a little. "Say something."

He wrenched one hand off the wall like he was going to slap it, but got control of himself at the last second; his fingers clenched into a fist, but he set his knuckles gently against the stone and laid his head beside them, his shoulders rising and falling several times. When he turned to face her, his face was set, but his eyes were so haunted that Narasi recoiled.

Only at first, though; she recognized he was suffering some terrible wound and got to her feet, reaching out to him…to put a hand on his shoulder? That seemed an awkward reversal of their roles. To poke him in the chest? She wasn't sure he'd appreciate that just now. To—

"I'm so sorry, Narasi," he said; his voice was steady, but so soft it scared her. "This is my fault."

She frowned. "This whole thing is Runganna's idea; she's just messing with us because she can. You didn't make her do that."

"No, I didn't," he agreed, but then his eyes hardened. "But I accepted it without knowing what it meant—without asking a simple question, because I was afraid it would make us look weak. Because I thought I had the answer; because I was prideful.  And now we're in an impossible position."

"It's not impossible," Narasi said, raising her jaw in defiance. "I'll do it."

Tirien closed his eyes, and this time, when he seemed likely to sink into meditative brooding, Narasi did poke his chest with one claw. "What?"

"I didn't understand the Koboskya no Jankpa at first," he said, opening his eyes to give her a dark look, "but I've got it now. This is a battle to the death, Narasi.  Three beings will go into that arena tomorrow; one will walk out, and two will be carried out."

Narasi took a calming breath to steady her instinctive nerves. "I've been in battles before. You were there too!"

"You've been on battlefields, yes, but a battlefield and a one-on-one duel—or one-on-two, in this case—is completely different."

"I've been in duels, too! That Anzat—"

"You and Aldayr killed the Anzat together," Tirien reminded her. "And you've never faced a Force user in a duel and actually killed her."

Narasi had to think about it. Alecto had escaped with her life both times; Narasi had been lucky to even survive fighting Churka on Taanab and the Vanguardian on Toprawa; she had downed Zeff Rogu on Milagro, but it hadn't been necessary to finish him; Raven Kaivalt had struck the deathblow against the Vanguardian on Anaxes…with some surprise, Narasi realized her master was right. Recovering after a moment, she said, "Well, no Jedi has until she has, right?"

Tirien gave her a look. "Fine. Let's grant that the experience of taking another Force user's life will happen to most Jedi at some point, sooner or later.  This isn't finding an enemy by chance on the battlefield and fighting to defend your life or protect others; this is going into a situation knowing that it will require killing another sentient being—two, here—and doing it anyway.  Deciding, right here, right now, that tomorrow morning you're going to kill two other people."

Narasi swallowed, but said, "If I have to, to get the weapon—"

"Think of that Sith girl—Izkara's apprentice," Tirien interrupted. "Picture her face. Think about whatever you two talked about that got so tense before I found you.  And now think that by this time tomorrow you'll have cut off her head or put your blade through her heart."

Though she hadn't been avoiding the mental image on purpose, Narasi found, when she pictured it, that her subsconcious had been suppressing it. Her guts twisted into knots, and she knew her face had betrayed her, because Tirien nodded in grim satisfaction.

"Yeah…yeah, okay," she said. "It's hard. I don't like her, but it'll be…tough.  Killing someone I've talked to, I mean.  But what other choice do we have?"

"We leave," Tirien said. "We stop a two-bit criminal thug playing games with the Jedi Order. I may have prostituted my honor by indulging her this far, but that doesn't mean I have to sell your soul for her amusement."

Narasi frowned, more worried for him than herself now. "We can't let anybody else get that bomb! I mean, maybe that 'Mandalore the Sentinel' lady is okay, but what if she's not?  And Lady Hadan's a Sith!  Yeah, Runganna outsmarted us, and that sucks, but it doesn't mean we can just quit and go home—we have a job to do!"

Tirien paced away, one hand over his mouth, raising the other to forestall Narasi when she made to follow. Sensing him sinking into the Force even as he walked back and forth, Narasi took a moment to meditate too. She had spoken to Zaella, looked into her eyes…she had even had a semi-cordial conversation with Arykr. Looking at herself, she could admit it was uncomfortable to contemplate killing them, especially because he mind kept turning "coldly decided" into "cold-blooded"…

She blinked and refocused when motion that had become background noise stopped; Tirien was looking at her. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Truth now, Padawan. Tell me what happened between you and Zaella before I arrived."

Trying not to shift her weight, Narasi forced herself to spit it out, not neglecting her angry reaction to Zaella's taunt. By the time she was done Tirien was grimacing. "So now she knows how to wind you up."

"It was one time," Narasi insisted. "I was still mad about Pavac, she caught me at a bad moment."

"And you're fine about Pavac now?"

Narasi hesitated. "He's not part of this."

Tirien studied her a moment, a strange look on his face. Then he snorted and waved a hand. "Out of sight, out of mind, even for people? That's the sort of dismissive attitude I'd expect from a slave owner."

If he had drawn his blade and run her through he could not have wounded her more; Narasi staggered back, eyes wide, feeling the hurt all over her face and powerless to contain it. A second later Tirien crossed the space between them and took her face between his hands. "That is what I'm afraid of," he said, his voice gentle, full of nothing but concern now. "You get distracted, you hesitate for one second—"

He pulled a hand away to snap his fingers in front of her face; she blinked.

"—and you're dead."

Understanding caught up with her, and she squeezed her eyes shut; the hurt lingered, but it started to fade as she realized he had chosen his words to expose her vulnerability because he cared—because he would rather her heartsick for a moment than dead for eternity. That did not make them sting less, but maybe that was the point. When she could force herself to look at him, she whispered, "They don't know me like you do."

"Zaella knows how you reacted to her, and Arkyr knows about you and Pavac—they know enough." He let her go and turned away, pacing again. "You have to be able to focus in battle. Full Jedi Knights die in duels because they lose their focus for a split-second.  And your focus has been cracked through since Pavac told you he killed your parents.  In a month, with time for us to meditate just on this and work through all of it, then maybe you'd be ready."

"We don't have a month—the Kobo-whatever's in like nine hours!" Narasi struggled to get her mind level again to impress her seriousness on him. "I can handle it. I can beat them."

He sighed. "I'm not convinced it's right, even if you can. Participating in a bloodsport for Runganna's sick amusement—"

"If we were reversed," Narasi interrupted. "If I did the bargaining and you were the fighter—"

"If you did the bargaining, the Republic would have to sell Corellia to pay the price you agreed to."

Narasi blinked, derailed, until she recognized the faintest stirring of humor. Was it for her benefit or his? One corner of her mouth twitched, but she reoriented and demanded, "Would you fight in the Kabuki?"

The specter of humor faded from Tirien's face, but Narasi was glad he took the time to think about the issue. His mental shields had cracked a little from stress, and she could, for once, actually feel his mind processing it; the workings there were a little dizzying to follow. After a few seconds—and as Narasi enjoyed the strange mental image of the complex pieces of a machine being put into place for activation—he looked up and admitted, "Yes."

"So it's not the ethics," she said. "It's not about amusing Runganna, it's about getting that weapon. It could hurt so many people if we don't."

Tirien took a deep breath, then sighed for several seconds. "I know."

"I can do this," Narasi said, advancing on him again. "I will do this, to protect them. Protecting them is more important than protecting me."

Her master gave her a sharp look, but this time Narasi didn't back down. "That's right, isn't it? We do the hard and dangerous things because we're the ones who can, and the people who can't, need us.  How many times have you told me to be a Jedi?  Well…let me."

They gazed at one another in silence for a long time; Narasi didn't look away, and tried not to blink. Tirien's penetrating stare had unnerved her before, but she forced herself to endure it, to let him see her commitment. She had sworn to prove to him that she deserved his trust.

"This will take total focus," he warned.

Narasi nodded and mustered a smile for him. "You'll help me. We'll meditate on it."

"You've volunteered yourself for meditation? Our circumstances are dire indeed."

Narasi rolled her eyes, but she let herself grin, and he gave her a half-smirk back before they set to work.

The hours flowed by as they meditated together, Narasi setting herself against her emotions, Tirien nudging her thoughts ways they didn't want to go; a stray corner of her mind wondered if this was what the Trial of Spirit was like. It was a strange thing, preparing herself for a known danger. In most of their battles and missions, she and Tirien had been given, at best, a general picture of what awaited them, and followed the Force or improvised on the spot. Here, she had seen the battle arena with her own eyes, and she knew what was coming: Zaella Sabir and all her dark side powers, and whatever arsenal of Mandalorian weapons Arykr Rentol brought to bear. Settling herself into calm acceptance of her reality—''I'm going to kill both of them. I'm going in there to end their lives before they end mine.''—was harder than she had expected it to be.

"It can't be emotional," Tirien said when they took a break, after Narasi had refused his suggestion to nap for a few hours. "A Jedi can never kill in the heat of emotion, but this is a particular temptation to it. It isn't about them; it's about the beings we're protecting.  Runganna may have foisted this injustice on us, but no one is forcing the Mandalorians or the Sith to participate; Zaella and Arykr chose this."

"Just business?" Narasi asked dryly.

Tirien chuckled once without a smile. "Let's call it a related philosophy. It can't be personal."

Narasi nodded, though she found herself wondering…

There was a knock on the door.

Waving Narasi back, Tirien laid his hand on his lightsaber hilt before he pressed the door release. When he saw who was there his fingers tightened around the weapon, but Damis Myragon's voice said, "We're not here to fight. May we come in?"

Wearing his emotionless look, all cool Jedi control again, Tirien reached into the Force; Narasi tried to get a read on the Mandalorians too before Tirien nodded and stepped back. They were both armored, though carrying no weapons she hadn't already seen. Arkyr's mind was vexed, Damis's…tired? No, that wasn't it; maybe resigned.

"Is that locked?" Damis asked.

Narasi felt her master extend a tendril of power with a thought, but no accompanying movement; the sealed door booped, and Tirien said, "Yes."

Damis nodded, then reached up and released the pressure seal on his helmet before he pulled it off. He had skin the color of rust and a lined face that suggested hard living and toughness more than age; a crown of horns studded his head, but he was not a Zabrak. When Arykr removed his helmet, Narasi saw he was Human—and a Human whose dark expression matched the feeling in his mind. He looked about Tirien's age—it was hard comparing one near-Human species to another—but his face was full and square.

Tirien bowed from the neck. "You honor us with your confidence."

"We're not here to honor you," Arykr said.

Tirien looked at him. "Why are you here?"

"You…" Damis stopped, then looked past Tirien to Narasi. "Well, you are going to compete in the Koboskya no Jangpa?"

"Jankpa," Arkyr grumbled.

Narasi nodded. "Yeah, I am."

Arykr looked at Damis, who lowered his eyes for a moment; Narasi sensed his deep thought. Then he raised his head. "Then we're not."

Narasi felt her mouth open in surprise; she couldn't see the expression Tirien was wearing, but he sounded bemused and suspicious as he asked, "Since when do Mandalorians turn away from a fight?"

Both men reacted—Arykr with a spasm of annoyance, Damis with a hint of concern. "This is about more than our pride," Damis said, and he tipped his hand with a glance from the corner of his eye at Arykr. "As we told Narasi, if Mand'alor wants war with the Jedi, she hasn't told us. If that day comes, then you're my enemies, and I'll use every skill and weapon I possess to kill you.  But that choice is Mand'alor's, not ours, and we won't force her hand by spilling Jedi blood here today."

Narasi realized with a start that tomorrow had indeed become today; where had so many hours gone? The battle—the duel, her against Zaella now—was only a few hours away…

"Thank you," Tirien said, and now Narasi heard a touch of warmth in his tone. "It may never apply to Runganna, but what I told her is true—the Republic remembers its friends."

"This isn't alliance," Damis said. "This is pragmatism alone. But if you want to show your gratitude, if the Republic sees the Empire growing and thinks Mandalorian Space could be a buffer between your hegemonies…remember that Mandalore could have raised its fist against you, and didn't."

"I will remember," Tirien said. "And I'll ensure the High Council does too."

"And don't think we won't arm ourselves, with whatever weapons we need," Arkyr added. "We just don't fancy killing Jedi to do it."

"If you find Runganna's supplier, tell us," Tirien said. "Republic Intelligence will pay well for that infor—"

"We aren't mercenaries," Arkyr snapped.

"No, you're not," Tirien said. "You wouldn't have rejected the lure of easy credits, or refused to offer your soldiers to Runganna—or chosen Mandalore over personal pride—if you didn't have a sense of honor. There's no honor in weapons like this—weapons that can kill millions, even billions in the right location, without any skill or distinction between warriors and innocents.  The Jedi of our time aren't the Jedi who stood by while Uba III burned; I believe the Mandalorians of our time won't be the butchers of Serroco."

"We'll pass along your offer to Mand'alor," Damis said

Tirien did not push the issue, asking instead, "Will you stay for the battle?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll see you there." Tirien paused, then added, "Thank you."

"Thank us by remembering," Damis said, and put his helmet back on.

Arykr followed him, but as they reached the door, he looked over his shoulder. "Rican."

"'Good luck'?" she suggested.

Arykr shrugged. "You or the Sith; it's a loss to us either way. But if you win tomorrow…San Pavac is demagolka—scum without honor.  He's no brother of ours.  But he's lethal; he's killed better warriors and younger children than you.  If the day comes that you decide you're going to hunt him down and settle the score, make sure you're ready."

A hundred responses occurred to Narasi, from Jedi defiance of the very idea to heartfelt gratitude and a request for more detailed advice. Meditative clarity still lingered at the fringes of her mind—enough for her to see that neither would be true. The best she could manage was, "I'll remember that."

Arykr nodded, and then the Mandalorians were gone.