Sins of the Father/Part 6

"Civvies, do you think?" Narasi asked, pawing through her wardrobe. She passed the ballgown she had worn on Anaxes with a wistful sigh.

"Jedi robes," Tirien said. "They already know who we are, and dressing down won't make them forget. But robes might serve to ward off trouble."

"Ward off trouble?"

He chuckled. "Contrary to experience, I know. But we'll never know how many people we didn't fight because they saw Jedi robes and thought twice."

Narasi shrugged, slipped on a new outer tunic, and cinched her belt over it. Checking her lightsaber and her various gadgets, she asked, "Think I'll need my grappling hook?"

"Can't hurt."

She snapped the closet closed and found Tirien wearing khakis that matched hers; it was odd seeing him out of his usual darker browns, but after a moment she realized the riffraff at Runganna's might associate "Jedi" more with her outfit. Light clothes, light side. He wore a pistol opposite his lightsaber, and even as Narasi watched he checked the karambit sheathed at the back of his belt. Taking it as advice, Narasi retrieved her own gunbelt and buckled it over her normal one.

"One more drink for the road?" Tirien offered.

"Ah ha ha…you know, Master, I think I'm good," Narasi said; her stomach had stopped cramping from the last mystery mug he had given her, but she didn't relish the idea of stumbling into Runganna's hideout while trying to keep her insides inside.

The proximity alert beeped in the hold, and Tirien sighed as they headed toward the cockpit. "I wish we had more time to practice. You can nullify almost any natural poison if you focus enough, but it takes a lot of repetitions to do it smoothly."

"Do you think Runganna's gonna poison us?"

He paused in that way he did when a Jedi Guardian would've said yes. "I think one should never take a Hutt's hospitality for granted. Today's welcome guest is tomorrow's hostage for leverage."

"Well, if she invites us to dinner, I'll try to sit next to you."

She took the co-pilot's seat as Tirien watched the countdown. "Three…two…one…"

He pulled back the hyperdrive lever, and as Narasi cut in the sublights, Circumtore zoomed in outside the viewport. As Tirien angled them in, Narasi had a moment for Jedi humility; no matter how many bizarre sights she saw traveling the galaxy with her master, there always seemed to be new ones waiting to surprise her. "That's Circumtore?"

Tirien checked the navicomputer, tapped it with his fingertips to unfreeze the display, and nodded. "So it seems."

"It looks like a…a…oh, what do you call it…" Narasi worried her lower lip with one fang as her brow scrunched. "They had them on Alderaan…those pastries they made for breakfast?"

"Oh, I know what you're talking about…" Tirien frowned a moment, then said, "Doughnuts."

"Yeah! That's what it looks like!"

He chuckled. "I suppose it does. But it's going to be much less enjoyable."

Toroidal Circumtore swelled in the viewport as Tirien guided the Second Chance toward its surface. Narasi focused the sensors groundward; the outdated sensor package took its time making sense of the planet, but when it finally returned an analysis, Narasi understood why. "Master, I'm reading atmosphere."

"Well, that's a relief; call it a failure on my part as a Jedi, but I confess I've grown attached to breathing…"

"No, I mean…well, look at it! How is it holding an atmosphere?  How does it even exist?!"

"To answer your second question first, it's an artificial planetoid. The chances of something like this coming about naturally are infinitesimal, but a sufficiently advanced civilization…"

Narasi tried to imagine who could do that. "The Celestials? The Rakata?"

"Even the Rakata couldn't make planets. As for the Celestials…"  Tirien's yellow eyes went distant for a second, but just as Narasi feared she had lost him down some deep wormhole of contemplation of the mysteries of the galaxy when it was essential that he not turn their ship into a smear on the doughnut planet, he snapped back to focus. "It's possible, but unknown, and we can't spare the time to figure it out right now. Suffice to say something put it here, and a being or race powerful enough to engineer a world in the first place could tweak the physics to ensure it remained habitable."

That stood to reason, in a weird sort of way. Narasi read the sensor scan further. "Uh…gravity's kind of a mess down there, Master."

"It'd have to be, to keep it geologically stable," he mused.

"Yeah, but it's like…twice as much at the poles as at the equator."

"Where's Runganna's palace?"

Narasi tapped the sensor screen, then whacked it with her palm. "Come on, you piece of…ah, here we go. Uh…it's about a quarter of the way from the equator?"

"We'll be a bit lighter than usual, then. Columus all over again."

"Yay, Ataru for everybody," Narasi muttered, and Tirien laughed.

As they drew closer to Circumtore, Narasi noticed stark changes in the climate along the curve of the planet. She couldn't make out much of the dark inside of the ring, and the sensors were already complaining without trying to get a read over the planet's edge. Once she locked in the signal coordinates they'd been given, it didn't take long for the communications console to beep.

"Ah'chu apenkee an lee chai chai cun kuta?" a deep voice demanded.

Narasi opened her mouth, but Tirien raised a hand and whispered, "In Basic."

"Basic?" she asked, but he nodded and, recognizing his scheming look, she took it on faith. Depressing the send key, she answered, "Uh…hi. This is Jedi Padawan Narasi Rican.  I'm here with the Jedi Knight Tirien Kal-Di.  Lady Runganna invited us."

After a few seconds, the voice came back in thickly accented Basic. "Keep your course. We will stand down guns."

"How thoughtful," Narasi grumbled as she switched it off. "So why Basic? I get that I'm not great yet, but I could've carried off that conversation."

"Oh, I know you could have," Tirien said, and Narasi did a double-take to confirm he really was wearing that sly smile. "But they don't know that."

"Well yeah, because you didn't let me oooooooooh," Narasi trailed off as it clicked. She grinned back. "Eavesdropping?"

"Exactly. One of us will have to use Huttese or we'll look foolish, and it's more sensible for it to be me—I'm older, I'm the Knight, and my Huttese is better.  But if we can separate inside and they all think you only speak Basic…"

"'A lightsaber slays one man, a loose tongue many'?" Narasi replied.

"You've been reading Master Ven Zallow."

Narasi leaned back in her chair, squeezing her hands into frustrated fists and growling at the cockpit ceiling. "Hoooooow do you just know that?!"

"I read too. Well, this looks…more pleasant than some of the other options."

Narasi sat forward again and saw the Second Chance was soaring over a jungle landscape. It had advantages over the scorching desert and the volcanic wasteland she had seen from orbit, but the forest thinned ahead into a plain of bogs and savannahs. On a patch of dry ground at their heart stood a building that looked half-fortress, half-palace—all smooth, curving fronts on high walls and fat towers. Ships large and small ringed the palace; Narasi guessed Runganna wasn't keen on sharing her hangar bay with her guests.

"Who are all these people?" she asked. "Are they all bidders?"

"I suppose it's possible, but I think it unlikely. You see that ship there, and that one?  They're Hutt designs.  Why sell to other kajidics?"

Narasi shrugged. "Why sell to us?"

Tirien made a face and flew a pass over the parked ships, raising a hand off the control yoke toward the viewport. Narasi felt him reaching into the Force before he lowered the Second Chance down. She rose from her seat to peer over the hull toward the palace. "Uh…bit of a hike, Master."

"Better a long walk from a solid landing site than a quick trip and a sunken ship. Besides, the lighter gravity should make it pleasant." He rose. "Feed Gizmo and let's go."

Narasi told herself it wasn't Jedi to gloat, but she smirked to herself as she followed him into the hold and opened Gizmo's cabinet.

"Mmnnrrawhee!"

"Yes, he does love you too," Narasi crooned as she pulled him out, gave him a quick hug, and placed fresh greens in his bowl. "Be a good boy, Gizmo, we have to go buy a bomb."

Narasi's feet popped off the marshy ground a little bit with each step; she wasn't sure whether it was the lighter gravity or the spongy blue-green fungus. It had been mid-afternoon when they first flew by, but even in the few minutes since then the sun had dropped toward the horizon. "Shorter days?"

"Much shorter," Tirien replied as he raised his hood. The muggy air didn't make it Narasi's first choice, but she copied him anyway, wondering if it was another component of his Intimidating Jedi wardrobe plan.

Squinting against the sunlight, she saw the first test of that plan approaching—a Rodian with a datapad, accompanied by a Gamorrean with a club that looked sturdy enough to kill a gundark. The Rodian nodded and said in Huttese, "You're the representatives from the Republic?"

"We are," Tirien answered the same way. "I'm Tirien Kal-Di, and this is my Padawan, Narasi."

Remembering his deception, Narasi arranged her features into weary confusion. "Master?"

"Just introductions," he assured her.

The Rodian looked at her, then said in Basic, "I speak Basic as well, if you prefer. But Lady Runganna might not condescend to that."

"Understood," Tirien said. "I believe she's expecting us."

"She is…" The Rodian glanced back at the palace. "We have a number of dignitaries in attendance in my lady's honor. Representatives from many prominent kajidics.  It might be best if you were to proceed unarmed…as a gesture of good faith."

"Of course." Tirien gave a little nod, then looked over his shoulder. "Narasi?"

But he winked, too, and Narasi got the message. Stepping up until she got the Rodian's attention, she focused the Force and waved a hand. "You don't need our weapons."

"Well…well, no, not need exactly," the Rodian fretted. "But on the whole—"

Narasi focused harder, eyes narrowing, pushing his will to submit to hers. "You don't need our weapons. We should keep them."

The Rodian swayed a little, then shook his head. "I don't need your weapons. No doubt we can trust the Jedi."

"A gesture of good faith, as you said," Tirien offered.

"Yes, of course. If you'll follow me…"

"We can find our way," Tirien said, and this time he waved a hand. "You don't want to miss greeting the next kajidic representative."

"I certainly don't! Good evening, Master Jedi."

The Gamorrean had watched the entire exchange with no sign of interest, and he trundled off in the Rodian's wake without a word. Resuming the walk, Tirien said, "Fair work."

"I know, I wasn't focused enough on the first one," Narasi sighed.

"That's true, but the second was more than was needed. Focus more on suggestion than compulsion.  Mind tricks work best when they channel what's already in the target's mind."

"Don't the holocrons call it 'Dominate Mind'?"

One side of Tirien's mouth turned down. "An unfortunate appellation if ever I've heard one. Jedi should only use the minimum force necessary to achieve our objectives…"

Narasi smirked. "And you groan at my puns?"

Tirien gave her a look, then rolled his eyes. "The principle applies to mind tricks just as much as lightsaber combat. Yes, you can beat someone's mind into submission with yours; delve into the dark side and you can enslave someone's mind completely so he doesn't have a single thought you didn't give him.  But not every problem needs to be solved with the telepathic equivalent of a disruptor."

"It's just…that pinpointy stuff is really hard, Master."

"Yes, it is," Tirien agreed. His lips fought a smile. "And that's why we…?"

"Practice," Narasi sighed.

"Hutt dignitaries…" Tirien said. "Why would an auction require dignitaries? There's more going on here than we've been told.  Perhaps you'll get a chance to practice again today."

There was no need to practice at the gate, though; the protocol droid was only too happy to usher them inside. For a second Narasi thought they had brought the afternoon sunlight in with them until she realized Runganna's palace was lit in that same yellow-orange. It wasn't exactly comfortable for Zygerrian eyes, but Narasi knew relying on her eyes here would be a mistake; if ever there was a time to give the Force the lead, this was it.

The only problem was that the Force didn't seem to know where to start. Danger surrounded them, dozens of potential flashpoints just waiting for a spark. Narasi grimaced, trying to prioritize, but she felt like she had walked into a room full of people playing the kloo horn, each one slightly out of tune—in time it could probably become background noise, but at the moment it was discordant to the point of distracting.

Narasi wasn't sure whether the open space after the gate was Runganna's throne room and she was just that confident, or if it was some sort of courtyard converted for the purpose. Either way, she found herself in a sprawling expanse of room, some of it covered by roof or awning, other stretches open to the evening air. Hundreds of beings milled about the space with room to spare, while a band played out of sight, serving droids walked or rolled among them offering drinks, and Twi'leks and Zeltrons danced on freestanding stages or writhed against poles and columns—males and females, Narasi noted with interest. She wasn't sure whether to be happy that Runganna was open-minded or disgusted with double exploitation; a muscular male Zeltron wearing little more than oil and a smile caught Narasi's eye and winked, and she settled on being happy…until she remembered he was probably a slave, with a lash waiting for him if he didn't smile, and her heart hardened again.

Among the partygoers Narasi saw many species she knew and had expected—Twi'leks, Dugs, Weequay, Klatooinians, Gamorreans, Niktos, Rodians, Zabraks, and of course plenty of Humans—and some she had only read about—hovering Toydarians, spike-faced Vodrans, and puffy-mouthed Nimbanels. There were a few species she didn't have a name for at all. But oddest of all were the Hutts.

Narasi had seen Hutts before—she had only been a little girl at the time, but the memory was vivid—but none like this. Some were Narasi's height and pushed themselves around at respectable speed with their muscular tails; others were head and shoulder taller and squirmed only half a meter at a time, and that rarely. One or two had grown so huge that Narasi could've sat on Tirien's shoulders to look them in the eye. Many were festooned with bangles on their stubby arms, hats on their enormous heads, or gleaming medallions strung around their neck-shoulders. Slaves attended the larger Hutts, fanning them or misting their bodies with slime sprayers.

Even though she had prepared for the sight, Narasi couldn't get over the Shell Hutts. Armored head to tail, aside from the few who had removed their helmets to paw food into their maws, they hovered just off the ground with repulsorlifts built into each segment of their armor. Some had weapons built into their vambraces or shoulder armor, and others had durasteel spikes or blades down their backs. Several of the Shell Hutts were among the largest Hutts present; Narasi guessed that, with the burdensome task of moving from one place to another handled by repulsors, their bodies didn't use up much energy.

"Which one's Runganna?" she muttered.

"I don't know, but I suspect she won't be hiding."

"Spread out and search?"

"Later; right now we should stick together." Tirien found a spot under the shadow of a tree Runganna had grown indoors. "Tell me what you see."

My master, unwilling to let me wander off into danger? Narasi thought with a sigh; she had hoped she and Tirien were past that. But she focused and studied the setting. "Uh…those Trandoshans at fourteen hundred look like mercs. All the Hutts have bodyguards, of course.  I think those two guys are Mandalorians—"

"What?" Tirien didn't move, but Narasi sensed his sharp reaction and fell silent in surprise. "Where?"

"Uh…oh six hundred…"

Tirien gave it a few seconds, then looked past her, staring around oh nine hundred with narrowed eyes. Narasi was about to correct him when he turned his face back…and his gaze paused just a second on the way, off to her right. He nodded to himself, but said, "You're right. That T-shaped visor is a trademark of theirs; at the very least, it's Mandalorian armor."

"I get the sense it's a bigger deal than just 'Mandalorians are dangerous'."

"They—" A series of cheers and horn calls cut him off; when the clamor died enough for him to be heard, he said, "We'll talk about it later.  Come on."

They nudged their way through a crowd of onlookers only to find a group of acrobats and contortionists performing in a space cleared in the center. The band stepped up its tempo to accompany the high-speed gymnastics. Narasi shook her head. "All this for an auction?"

"Auction?" a Nikto beside her said with a belly laugh, in something that resembled Basic. "No, no, party! Auction day away!"

Tirien frowned. "The auction's another day away?"

"No, many day! This first day party!  Tomorrow second day party!  Maybe more day!  Then auction."

Tirien's eyes had narrowed, though Narasi shrugged as she looked up at him. "Least we don't have to worry about being late?"

He took a breath through his nose over pursed lips; Narasi thought he had resisted the urge to roll his eyes because they were in public. "But what's the…oh, this is ridiculous…"

He looked over those nearby, then tapped the shoulder of a Zabrak who was watching the show with an appreciative smile, but not cheering or clapping. When the horned man turned narrow eyes on Tirien, Tirien bowed his head and said, "Da chuda, pateessa."

"Da chuda, Jeedai…" the Zabrak answered guardedly.

Tirien continued in Huttese, "We were late additions to the guest list, I'm afraid. We haven't been told everything that's going on.  A — in Lady Runganna's honor, obviously, but the occasion…?"

Narasi missed the key word, though knowing Tirien, she thought it was a more elaborate one for "party". The Zabrak arched a brow. "Her newest shell, of course, and her first of adulthood. They say she ate enough to burst a rancor to need it."

Tirien gave him a half-smirk that said nothing, thanked him in Basic, and turned back to Narasi. She could tell he shared her surprise, but he had mastered himself now, and Narasi worked to copy his cool calm as they watched the acrobats perform. Their skill kept her attention until she realized this was one of those opportunities to eavesdrop, and she tried to listen in to those around her, but their voices ran over one another and she gave it up as a bad job.

As the artists finished their performance, a handful of beings applauded and several hooted in appreciation, but one Human lunged forward to catch a dancer by the wrist. "Oy! C'mere, show me that move again, eh?!"

In the space of a single heartbeat, the woman cried out, a few onlookers laughed, the rest of the troupe cast anxious glances at each other, and Narasi reached for her lightsaber. Her fingers had closed around the hilt before Tirien caught her by the wrist and held her in place, shaking his head.

She snarled at him. "We have to—"

"Not here," he cut her off, his eyes hard and unyielding.

She growled, unable to control the reflex; watching the man drag the woman away filled her throat with bile. She reached for the Force, not sure what she planned to do with it, but once she immersed herself in it, she felt Tirien already there. Only then did she notice his free hand stretched out a handspan from his waist and concentration on his face. She looked back.

Had she not been watching for anything unnatural, she would have missed it; she almost missed it anyway. As the man braced himself for another tug, one of the flagstones pressed into the dirt flooring beside a tree unplanted itself from the ground and rose a few centimeters. The Human jerked the acrobat toward him, but his boot heel caught on the stone and he went down, stopping himself with his arm just before the stone could crunch his skull. The dancer seized her chance and fled back to her companions, who encircled her protectively.

The crowd's laughter grew more raucous as the Human rose, red-faced, and spat a lock of hair out of his mouth. He staggered for balance; Narasi wasn't sure whether he was drunk already or just jarred by the fall, but he roared, "SHUT UP, ALL OF YA!"

That only drew more jeers, and the man drew a blaster. "I said shut—"

Before Narasi had any more warning than a hair-raising jangle of nerves from the Force, blaster bolts came from half a dozen different directions; three punched a fist-deep hole in the man's chest, and the other three disintegrated a good chunk of his head. Only a couple beings screamed, but the laughter died at once and the music cut off on a flat note. The Hutt bodyguards cast about for the threat, but Narasi followed her master's eyes to the roof overlooking the courtyard and saw a stocky, powerfully-built man in mechanized armor chambering a blaster carbine.

Tirien looked back at the dead man, then sighed and closed his eyes. In the ensuing silence, a being with shiny maroon skin and an enormous, bald cranium whose species Narasi didn't know stepped out. Giving what was left of the Human a disdainful glance, the man sniffed once and said, "My mistress, the great Runganna, is pleased to welcome you all here, but be warned: violence will not be tolerated. Not without my lady's leave, at any rate.  And to that effect, I present an exotic display for your enjoyment: barbarian warriors of Coyn!"

He gestured, and as the acrobats fled, they were replaced by a pair of Coynites—large, muscular humanoids with braids down to their backs and savage expressions on their ridged faces. Each wore only a leather armor skirt, bracers, and sandals, and each carried a serrated sword Narasi wasn't sure she could even lift without the Force. Each bellowed a brief recitation in a language Narasi had never heard; when the second was done, they attacked without further preamble, blades crashing together and spitting sparks while the onlookers nearest edged back.

Narasi looked up at her master. "We have to just let them kill each other, don't we?"

"Yes." She was surprised at his thoughtful expression as he watched the contest. "They're not opposed to this, though; they weren't driven to it from fear, and they don't see it as a loss."

"People who spend their whole lives enslaved usually can't see that," Narasi retorted.

Tirien nodded without looking away. "Point. But there's more in their minds…I can't understand it clearly, but they feel…proud."

Narasi tried to sense that without delving so deep into a mind she distracted one of the combatants. She felt the courage and ferocity that accompanied the warrior skill on display, and before long she was really only watching the swordplay, studying techniques. Soon she would be starting Form V in earnest, and though the Coynites were fast and agile, their reliance on their strength was obvious. Even they seemed to need both hands to wield their swords, but they used the pommels of their weapons as bludgeons and kicked whenever they had openings. Here and there she saw where a deflection might send one or the other off balance; three and a half years as Tirien's Padawan had put her on guard for that at all times.

Narasi found herself imagining moves she would have made, and she spotted several techniques she wanted to try the next time she sparred. The crowd cheered and screamed, hurling encouragement and invective in equal measures. One Coynite leaned just far enough back to avoid being decapitated, and Narasi cheered along with the rest. Tirien gave her a look; when she realized what she had done, she flushed, nausea twisting her stomach. They're probably slaves, she reminded herself. Runganna probably took them from their homes and brought them here to die for sport.

Once she had said it to herself, she had to wrap her arms around her torso to keep from shaking. Was this how it started? Just getting caught up in the heat of the moment, never realizing the sentient cost behind the show…

Harden her up now and she won't pity 'em later…

No sooner had she thought it than one Coynite beat the other's blade down, then ripped a jagged blow across his enemy's chest that split his pectorals open and halved one of his biceps. The maimed warrior howled as he sank to his knees, the sword falling from his hands as his fingers twitched and spasmed. But he raised his head and roared something in his own language; his opponent, poised for the deathblow, let the defeated Coynite finish his cry before hacking off his head in a shower of blood.

The crowd roared with enthusiasm, but Narasi had been cured of the momentary madness that had driven her to join them. Slaves came to clean up the remains, but the surviving Coynite claimed his fallen foe's sword, laying the flat of one blade over each shoulder as he departed the impromptu arena.

Narasi leaned against Tirien for a moment; she did not expect him to give her any physical sign of affection, and so she was not disappointed, but he gave her a mental prod that amounted to encouragement. By the time she straightened again the slaves had wiped the last of the blood away. As conversation broke out again, Narasi sensed she was being observed, and when she looked she found one of the Mandalorian T-visors pointed her way. She held the gaze she could feel behind the helmet for a three count, then turned away.

"Master, can we talk in private for a minute?" she asked. "Please?"

She needed to get her feelings off her chest, to talk them out and get an azimuth check. Tirien's expression softened and she thought he would agree, but just then another series of horns blew. He glanced over his shoulder, and when he looked back at her his face was all Jedi Knight again. "Hold that thought."

Narasi thought her sigh was lost in the fanfare as a voice declared, "The Illustrious and Mighty Lady Runganna!"