Revenge of the Jedi/Part 33

Narasi gave Jirdo a generous opening—a wide, one-handed sai cha that exposed her whole torso when he leaned out of range—but rather than lunge, he retreated, stabilizing himself in a steadier guard. It might have made his position harder to assail, like something resembling Form III, except that when Narasi came back with a two-handed slash the other way and he blocked, she almost knocked him off his feet. He tried the Pulling Slash he had been working on with Harshee, but though Narasi stumbled toward him, she deflected his slash sideways and shoved so hard she almost scorched his face with his own training saber.

He leapt sideways and recovered his guard, but his hazel eyes narrowed. "You're taking it easy on me."

"Yes," Narasi admitted.

"Don't. I need to know what I can and can't do."

Narasi respected Jirdo's renewed commitment to training, and she had told him so more than once to encourage him, but a morning of frustrations had left her testy. "If I don't pull back, I'm gonna flatten you."

Jirdo's jaw worked like he was trying to break a rock between his teeth. "Then flatten me. I have to know, Narasi."

Throwing up her hands in resignation, Narasi raised her lightsaber to a Shien opening stance and went all in. It was over in six moves; Jirdo had learned enough to sideslip her Falling Avalanche, but his riposte was awkward, and Narasi swatted it aside before reversing and slashing him across the throat. He staggered back, choking, one hand flying to the red line that curved around his neck.

"I warned you."

"Warning is one thing," he rasped. "Showing is another. I want…no.  No, that doesn't matter.  But I have to know, know beyond doubt that I can't help…"

"What are you talking about?"

He waved her off, deactivating his training saber and bowing, and she had no choice but to return the bow and let him walk away. He wasn't hopeless, Narasi thought; in the last few days of hard training, he had pulled ahead of Renata distinctly. But he was twenty-four where Renata was thirteen, and he had yet to best Narasi or Zaella, let alone any of the Knights. Harshee encouraged him to employ the Force in combat—since Form VI didn't really demand much in the way of swordplay, it allowed more room for creative use of the Force instead—but apart from knocking Zaella around a couple times with Force pushes, he hadn't achieved much that way either. Training remotes were now a daily part of practice—if they survived fighting Gasald, Yan reasoned, they would likely have to fight their way back to the hangar bay—and Jirdo did decently enough that Narasi thought he could survive a basic firefight. But if Gasald had anyone more skillful than front-line grunts around her, let alone a Sith Lord, she feared Jirdo would be the first to die.

She would have preferred anyone else on the island at her side in a fight, except perhaps Renata…and, she thought grimly, at least Renata would probably die with dignity.

Tempers around Inimă Eserzennae were close to the surface as the two-week window Tirien had given Captain Oraska entered its final days. Just yesterday, Yan and Raven had gotten into a shouting match with Sir Kobold and Lord Wisté when Sir Kobold announced he would go with the strike team, not Harshee. Tirien had not shouted, but his snarl had still raised the hair on the back of Narasi's neck as he joined the conversation. When he deduced that Sir Kobold had changed his mind at Lord Wisté's request, he had suggested in a poisonous tone that Lord Wisté go with Harshee if confronting Gasald seemed so perilous as to require protection; Yan had all but called him a coward to his face. After Sir Amaani entered the debate, only Lord Brascel's timely arrival had kept the Jedi civil. Inclined though she was to side with her master on the issue, Narasi hoped that, when she became a Jedi Knight, she wouldn't feel bound to Tirien by an invisible umbilical cord too.

Zaella, to general astonishment, had somehow effected a reconciliation with Raina Kaivalt; at least, they had a distant sort of courtesy to each other, and Raina allowed Zaella to practice with Renata again, although only under her personal observation. Once or twice, though, Narasi had overhead Raina interrupting not to chide Zaella for something mean-spirited, but to offer constructive criticism on her technique. Narasi, who had started to think Raina would not grieve if Zaella fell in the coming battle, was as dumbfounded as anyone else, all the more because Zaella gave her no inkling what was behind it.

We came to an understanding, was the closest to an explanation she had supplied. Narasi had even cornered Renata to pursue the subject, but though she could sense Renata was holding something back, the younger girl didn't crack, and Narasi was left stumped and frustrated. Between that and Zaella's still-daily sessions with Tirien, it was taking Narasi some effort to stay one of the key members of Team Zaella.

She left Jirdo behind and took the long way around the manor, hoping she might catch a glimpse of Tirien, or at least have a clear shot to the Second Chance, but the Force was not with her—Harshee clopped out of the forest and made a beeline right for her. Narasi had acquired some of her master's fondness for the little Jedi—and, having told Tirien the truth about her father, she had nothing more to fear from her—but she had a feeling Harshee wasn't angling for one of the friendly chats they'd shared, but rather…

"Hey. Have you seen him?"

Some of the Tapani Jedi struggled with Harshee's direct, irreverent way of speaking, but it was one of the things Narasi liked most about her. "Not since this morning."

"You get a chance to talk to him?"

When Narasi shook her head, Harshee nickered, crossing her muscular arms with a frown. Narasi sighed. "He's stressed, but everybody is. And he's gotta plan most of this mission—"

"Does he? Why doesn't he delegate a bit?"

"To who? Yan said herself she's all about straight fights, not sneaking around, and Raven's been dealing with the blowback from this Sir Kobold thing.  And the Tapani…"  Narasi crossed her arms too; part of her thought they must look like they were having a group sulk. "It seems like even Lord Brascel and Lord Wisté just decided to let Tirien do most of the thinking."

"Still…this thing is too big for one Jedi to plan alone."

Trying not to sound mulish, Narasi asked, "Well, what about you? You could help him."

Harshee's lips flapped as she exhaled. "I'd help that boy any way I could, if he'd let me. But he's got his own way of doing things, and Force knows he's a greater Jedi than I am.  Much more in tune with the Force than I'll ever be."

"Yeah, but…" Narasi stopped, uncrossing her arms and concentrating on the ripple in the Force. Even as she bent her mind to it, frowning in concentration, her comlink vibrated. Checking the frequency, she answered, "Yes, Master?"

"Meet me in the den, now."

"Moving, Master. Harshee's with me," she added. "Should—"

"Yes, bring her too."

Harshee nodded, and the two of them jogged up the rest of the hill and around to the front door; even though Narasi was twice her height, Harshee's hooves and strong legs propelled her up the incline with goatlike agility. For once, no breeze blew from the ocean, and with the sun overhead just after midday, she welcomed the cool of the manor.

They found Tirien, Raven, and Sir Amaani Wisté in the den, all standing. When Narasi entered, Tirien tossed her his datapad; as she caught it, she noticed his beacon transceiver was plugged into one side. She read:


 * T EAM POSSIBLY COMPROMISED . C LEARANCE CODES AND  K ISS OF D EATH SCHEMATICS ATTACHED .  C ODES VALID FOR THREE DAYS BEGINNING 1:33:2268 .


 * –O RASKA 

Narasi ran through the calendar as she handed the datapad off to Harshee. "The thirty-third was yesterday!"

Tirien nodded. "We're already down a day. Get your things packed; we're leaving in two hours."

"Leaving leaving?" Harshee asked.

"To go to Allanteen, yes."

Narasi and Harshee traded looks as Harshee tossed the datapad back, and Narasi thought they were thinking the same thing: So much for stress relief. Narasi asked, "There's nothing we can do for the Intelligence people, is there?"

Sir Amaani's eyes softened as Raven shook his head and said, "The best we can do is make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"I'll get my father and Kobold," Sir Amaani said, and he darted out the back door.

No sooner had he gone than Zaella walked in, raising an eyebrow. Narasi noticed she was wearing Gaebrean Kaivalt's thunderbolt earring in one ear cone again. "What's up?"

"Go time in two hours," Harshee informed her.

Zaella's casual demeanor faded; Narasi saw her face harden even as a hint of unease flitted through her eyes. But she nodded and said, "I'll be ready."

"Before anything else," Tirien said, "Narasi, Zaella, go down to the Second Chance and get the bomb offloaded. Raven, I know your father doesn't want it inside—"

"—but we can't exactly leave it on the landing pad or take it with us," Raven agreed. "I'll tell him."

"What can I do to help, Tirien?" Harshee asked as Narasi jerked her head toward the door.

"Spread the word…"

The rest of the conversation was lost on Narasi, who by then had reached the foyer. As she passed Donarius Kaivalt's looming statue, she wondered how the fabled Jedi Master would handle this situation, and felt sure the same thing was on Raven's mind—or would be, once he talked his father into housing a weapon capable of annihilating the island and the surrounding ninety-odd kilometers of ocean life. Zaella caught up with her and said, "This is it."

"Well, this is getting ready for it to be it, but…yeah."

"Nervous?"

Narasi wondered. The idea of fighting a Force user as powerful as Lady Gasald was reputed to be didn't exactly steady her nerves, but after so long on the island—so much training, preparation, and endless waiting—she felt energized having a definite timeline. And once Gasald was dead, she and Tirien could turn their attention to Aresh and Aldayr. As much to avoid getting distracted by those thoughts as anything else, she said, "I'm ready. You?"

"Ready? As I'll ever be, yeah."

"Nervous?"

Narasi couldn't tell whether Zaella's lekku twitched, or it just seemed that way because they were jogging. "…a little. But fear is useful; it keeps you sharp."

"Not for a Jedi, it's not," Narasi argued. "It leads you to the dark side."

"Fear keeps people from doing stupid things," Zaella insisted. They slowed in the shadow of the Second Chance. "Gaeb's not afraid of anything, and he's an idiot."

Narasi cocked her head. "You really like him, don't you?"

Zaella shrugged. "He's all right."

"No, you do! I've never heard anyone say idiot so affectionately."

Narasi stuck out her tongue, and Zaella rolled her eyes. Narasi typed in the code for the cargo door—then again, then a third time; they used it so rarely she had forgotten it. She braced herself for the quip sure to come, but when the ramp hit the ground—still bearing a baradium-core nuclear bomb longer than Narasi was tall—Zaella was frowning, arms crossed. Stopping herself from leaning on the bomb—it would be a great visual, but probably not the best habit, and Tirien would go ballistic—Narasi said, "I know it's on a hover dolly, but this thing's still heavy. You gonna help me?"

Zaella looked like she was genuinely struggling with the question, but just as Narasi started to stare, she said, "I…okay, I need to talk to you."

Surprised by the gravity of her tone, Narasi asked, "Uh…can it wait, Zae?"

"We're going right to Allanteen, aren't we? No stops?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. It really can't."

Shuffling her feet and feeling uncomfortable, Narasi took a few seconds for Empty Meditation. Things had gotten a little awkward with Zaella, and it was stupid to think the Twi'lek hadn't felt it too. "I know things have been a little…off lately…I'm not mad at you…"

Zaella blinked. "Me? What'd I do?"

Narasi shook her head. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Zaella crossed her arms…except it was more like hugging herself, Narasi thought. "You know I was a Sith apprentice. And not a quasi-sort-of-if-you-squint-hard-enough Dark Jedi, like Yushari; I was the real thing.  I did…well, you don't need to hear about all of it right now, but dark side stuff.  I was planning to be a Sith Knight."

Narasi had no idea where Zaella was going. "Zaella the Sith. Got it."

"My point is, I know what the dark side feels like. I know what it's like being angry, and having it make me more powerful, or being scared and—"

"Zae, I'm sorry, but the clock's ticking here," Narasi reminded her. "What's the point?"

Zaella took a deep breath. "The point is, people here are angry at Gasald, and afraid of what'll happen if she keeps conquering. All of this is starting to…feel familiar.  I'm worried about Tirien, and Yan…and you."

It took Narasi a long moment to even process what Zaella was really saying. When she did, though, a shiver racked her body and her ears stood straight up. "You…you're accusing me of being a dark sider? You're accusing Tirien?"

"No, that's not what I meant—"

Narasi goggled at her; the internal clash between shock and fury had her momentarily paralyzed. "What did you mean?"

"Just…look, you were explaining the Jedi Code to me, right? And I get it's not my thing, and I'm not any of those old, dead Jedi you talked about who wrote books about what seven words mean, but I'm not stupid.  What you've told me—what Tirien talked about on Guudria, with Jebba—that's not what I've seen here."

"How dare you?!" The paralysis passed, and Narasi was around the bomb and in Zaella's face without even understanding how she'd gotten there. "After everything Tirien's done for you?!"

Zaella leaned away, raising her hands. "That's why I'm trying to—"

"You're accusing my master—the best Jedi I know, who's gone way out of his way for you when no other Jedi Knight cares if you live or die—"

"Hey! I'm trying to tell you something important here!"

Past her anger, Narasi started to feel the first pangs of betrayal. "If it were any other Jedi, they'd throw you to the High Council and be done with you, but we stood up for you! Tirien passed on Jedi who might've come with us for you!"

"That's why I'm trying to help you, you kriffing moron! You think I care about using the dark side, like it's some bad thing?"

Narasi glared. "Is that what this is about? Tirien and Yan and I all spoke up for you, and now you think we're just like you?  That we're just as…"

Narasi choked off, trying to bottle her anger and growing hurt, but Zaella's eyes flashed. "Just as what? As what, exactly?"

Narasi tried to swallow the bile she tasted in her throat. "I thought you were my friend! And now you think you know—"

"I am your friend, bitch! That's why I'm telling you this!  I know the dark side can make you powerful; I've seen what it can do.  But Gasald's bound to be better at it.  If you guys try to fight that way, you'll get killed!"

She grabbed the lapels of Narasi's tunic and shook her, and Narasi, already frustrated, seized her by the wrists. Zaella jerked against her hold instinctively, and a heartbeat later they had both shifted their feet, Narasi preparing for the takedown, Zaella in position to grapple…and it might have been the sunlight, but Zaella's eyes looked more yellow than amber…

"Don't, Zaella," Narasi warned. "Please don't."

Zaella glowered at her, but after a second she opened her hands. Narasi released her wrists, and Zaella stepped back out of range, rubbing them with a wince.

"Look, Zae, I'm sure you mean well." Narasi was sure of no such thing, and even though years with Tirien had given her enough diplomacy to force out the words, she had no doubt Zaella could sense the lie. "But you've got no idea what you're talking about. Why don't you leave the Jedi stuff to us?  You know…the Jedi."

Zaella's face twisted, and Narasi did not need a protocol droid to guess what the writhing of her lekku meant. "Fine. Fine!  I tried to help you, because you're supposed to be my friend, but you don't want to listen?  You want everybody to play with the dark side and die fighting Gasald and her people?  That's kriffing fine with me.  But when she kills us all, don't you dare say I didn't warn you!"

She stormed back toward the manor, leaving Narasi behind her, under siege by so many different emotions that she couldn't even pick a front to defend. She caught fistfuls of her hair and pressed her knuckles into her head, struggling to calm down, not wanting to give proof to Zaella's lie in a moment of temper. There is no emotion, there is peace…there is no emotion, there is peace…

Peace was elusive, but Narasi got herself under control after a moment, activated the dolly, and pushed the bomb toward the manor, feeling nauseated; beneath her shock, hurt, and anger, she was sickened by the thought that Kaelora might have been right and she and Tirien wrong about Zaella all this time.