Revenge of the Jedi/Part 18

"Wanna play a game?"

Narasi abandoned pacing up and down the corridor to stare. "A game?"

That was the last suggestion she had expected from Zaella, and judging by Renata's blank, baffled look, she was not alone. All the nobles, even Dame Cyndobel, were ensconced in the Kaivalts' basement meditation chamber, along with Tirien and Yan, while Bernius stood guard at the door. While Narasi had paced, Renata sat on the bottom stair leading to the basement, reciting everything she knew about the various nobles and their houses like a holocron gatekeeper come to life. Zaella had taken to throwing her lightsaber hilt to herself, first standing, then lying on her back. Jirdo sat a few steps up from Renata, listening and absorbing but not part of the conversation.

Narasi had fought the temptation to go for a run, to spar outside, to go feed and play with Gizmo; she wondered what he would make of the ocean. The waiting was maddening, but it would be worse to not be on hand as soon as a decision was made. After the first hour, though, she had only managed to resist Zaella's suggestion that they spar inside because Bernius was visible down the corridor, and Narasi was sure he would have something to say about that.

"What game?"

"It's called 'Bacta'," Zaella said. "We used to play it on Ryloth."

That was not a promising start, and while Narasi's optimism arced up a little when Zaella hooked her lightsaber back on her belt, it dive-bombed again when the Twi'lek pulled a knife off her belt. Snapping the blade out, she placed her other hand on the ground and splayed her fingers. "See, it's all about precision…"

Narasi sighed and Renata gasped as Zaella proceeded to stab between her fingers, starting slow but accelerating until she could easily have amputated one or even two of her fingers before stopping herself. When she had completed a full arc down and back, she flipped the knife upside-down and offered it to Narasi, hilt first. "Fastest time wins!"

"And it's called 'Bacta' because…"

Zaella's grin shone against her red skin. "Yep."

A vivid vision of Tirien's reaction if he caught her at this, much less found her short a finger, dissipated any desire Narasi had to match her friend's insanity. "I'll pass."

"Sissy." Zaella stuck out her tongue, then held out the knife to Renata. "How about you, Jawa?"

Renata did a decent job burying her intimidation under a look of disgust. "No, thank you."

Zaella sighed, then knelt up and flung the knife, embedding it in a stair not a body space left of Jirdo's chest. Narasi felt Jirdo's flash of panic as he jumped, and Zaella laughed. "Any chance there's a crack in your cowardice, High Priest?"

Jirdo gave her a sneer and tugged on the knife. It took him two tries to get it out, but Zaella's laughter was short-lived; Jirdo pressed his palm against the wall, stabbed an arc down and back in two seconds, tossed the knife into his other hand, and completed a second full arc on his sword hand before folding the knife and throwing it at Zaella. She was so stunned it almost bounced off her forehead; her hand snapped up to catch it with centimeters to spare.

"I was a medic, remember?" Jirdo said. "Manual dexterity is what we do, and I've seen a lot worse traumatic amputations than a finger."

Zaella stared for a full ten seconds before an incredulous smile curved her lips. "Well, damn. Guess there's some dark in the Dark Jedi after all."

She replaced the knife on her belt, but Narasi did not miss the way Jirdo's face twisted, as if he had just then been stabbed. Pacing over, she kicked Zaella in the hip and knocked her down. "Play nice."

Zaella caught herself, rolled onto her back, propped herself up on her elbows, and crossed one leg over the other. Bobbing her foot in the air, she said, "You can pace until you wear a track in the floor, it won't make them decide any faster."

Narasi wondered if Zaella would be quiet enough for her to meditate. Settling down cross-legged on the floor, she asked Renata, "Do you know many of them well, Renata?"

"I've met Lord Brascel and Lord Wisté," the younger girl replied. "But I've never met Lady Sarmaddi, or any of the Cadriaan nobles."

"Do any of them matter, or just Lord Brascel?" Jirdo asked.

"Lord Brascel's our High Lord—he's the head of House Pelagia. He could decide for all of us, I guess, but only the Great Council can order all the Tapani Jedi to do something.  Maybe Lord Natascha is here so he can get the Cadriaans involved too?  He's the High Lord of House Cadriaan."

"Why not take it to the Great Council?" Narasi asked.

Renata shook her head. "I don't know. But…"

"Oh, spit it out," Zaella said.

"You're among friends here," Jirdo said.

"And me," Zaella added.

Jirdo sighed. "And Zaella."

Renata made a face, but eventually she spun on the step so she could look back and forth from Jirdo to Narasi. "Sometimes the noble houses…don't agree."

Never confuse diplomacy with obscuring the facts, Tirien had once told Narasi. She elected not to repeat that advice to Renata, but she asked, "So if Lord Brascel had gone to the whole Great Council, this would've gotten bogged down in committee forever?"

"Maybe," Renata admitted.

"Or word might've leaked to Gasald," Zaella speculated.

Renata frowned. "But the High Lords are Jedi! They wouldn't give us up to the Sith!"

"But not all the nobles are Jedi, are they?" asked Narasi.

"Well…no…"

"Yeah, and didn't the baron say at dinner that one House hasn't produced any Jedi?" Zaella added. "Their guy can't be a Jedi, then."

"House Mecetti," said Renata, running a hand through her hair. "Yes…I mean no, they don't have any Jedi…"

"Are we making you uncomfortable?" Jirdo asked.

"It's just…" Renata sighed, pressing her back to the wall. "I'm a commoner; my dad works at a grocery store, and my mom teaches Basic literature at a little college near where I was born. All this stuff with nobles, the big decisions that shape the whole sector…commoners aren't usually part of this.  It's weird for me being in on it—especially because I'll be a noble when I become a Jedi!"

Narasi scratched one ear with her claws. "It's still weird to me—nobility, I mean. I know Alderaan has King Rosulus and everything, but it's different here.  The royals on Alderaan are less…pushy.  And the whole 'I'm in charge because my parents are the right people' thing…"

Renata drew her knees up to her chest; Narasi saw with relief that she looked thoughtful rather than offended. "Well, the way they explained it to me, each noble family can raise their kids on how to be in charge, what to do, how to look out for everybody, all the lessons they learned and mistakes they made. The next generation makes their own mistakes, but then they teach their kids…in the end, every generation just keeps getting better."

Zaella laughed, and Renata scowled. "What? You think it's another dumb thing we do?  I don't make fun of Twi'leks, you know."

"Oh no, completely the opposite," Zaella said, still chuckling. "I'm right there with you, Jawa, it makes perfect sense to me—that's Sith Philosophy for Beginners."

Renata paled. "What do you mean?"

"Each generation learns from the failures of its predecessors, doesn't make the same mistakes they did, harnesses greater power with less effort—the dark side is distilled over generations until one Sith becomes the perfect weapon of darkness. Some of the Sith Knights on Ryloth used to talk about it."

"What'd they say?" Narasi asked.

"I don't know much," Zaella admitted. "Nobody ever said it to us lowly apprentices, they just said things when they thought we weren't listening. Some ancient prophecy about a perfect Sith to destroy the Jedi and lead us to the final victory."

"'Us'?" Jirdo asked, an edge to his voice.

The amusement died on Zaella's face; Narasi did not know what to make of the expression that replaced it, but after a second she corrected, "Them. To lead them."

Renata looked nauseated, and Narasi did not think it because she feared Zaella's conflicting loyalties. "The nobles aren't like that."

Zaella blinked and recovered her disinterested expression. "All power's like that. The Sith are just more honest about it."

"The Jedi aren't," Narasi argued.

Zaella raised a tattooed eyebrow. "No? You don't think Jedi nowadays are more powerful than Jedi a few millennia ago?"

"Well…well, that's just growth. The Order shouldn't stagnate."

"Of course not—anything that stagnates, dies. That's why the Republic is dying.  I was reading one of the databooks here—"

"You were?" Renata asked blankly.

"…yes…"

"You can read?" Jirdo asked.

Zaella's lip curled, and she raised her left hand, thumb and forefinger pinched close together. Jirdo coughed, bracing himself on a stair as he tugged at the collar of his robes, but Narasi snapped, "Zaella!"

Zaella gave her a long-suffering look, but opened her fingers, and Jirdo coughed more freely. As he took deep breaths and glowered down on her, Zaella said, "Anyway, it seems like all the Republic did between the Cold War and the start of these wars was rebuild back to what it was. Added some new systems, sure, but didn't change, didn't grow…same old Senate, same old Jedi…stagnant."

"And you think the Sith can do it better?" Renata demanded.

Zaella shrugged. "I think the Sith happened because the Republic stagnated. The Force doesn't want everything to always be the way it's always been; the Republic wouldn't evolve, and the Jedi wouldn't make it, so the Force brought the Sith back.  Now either the Republic changes and wins, or it keeps staying the same and dies, and we find out if the Sith can do things any better."

Renata shook her head in disgust, but Narasi was disquieted. Repugnant as Zaella's theory was to her Jedi sensibilities, it was not without an internally consistent logic. Narasi wondered what Tirien would make of this—wondered whether Zaella had told him her theory. As she thought of him, she realized there was an upside to the Republic's prospects.

"Well, we're shaking things up now," she said, gesturing down the hall. "The Council just wanted to wait for the next attack, but we're going on the offensive—stopping the Sith before they strike again."

Zaella shrugged, but Renata worried one thumb with her other hand. Narasi wasn't sure where to start—to reassure Renata, to help Zaella see the good in the Order and its differences from what she knew, or even to make sure Jirdo was all right—but she didn't get a chance to make a decision, because while she was still pondering, the door down the hall opened. Bernius stood aside, and Vinton Kaivalt swept down the hall, his jaw tight. He met Narasi at the end of the hall, grimaced, and bit out, "Pardon me."

Narasi stepped aside, eyebrows raised, and he moved past without another word. Intent on finding Tirien, Narasi didn't notice Zaella coming up behind her until Zaella tugged her back behind the staircase wall. "What—?"

Zaella held a finger to her lips, then tapped her ear cone with her other hand and pointed.

Renata stared, aghast. "You can't eavesdrop on—"

Zaella reached back and put a hand over Renata's mouth. Renata rolled her eyes, but stood there while Narasi wrestled with the decision. But she could hear the babble of voices—more clearly than her companions could, she thought, but still too indistinctly for important details. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sharpened her hearing with the Force.

Mumbling exploded into clarity, and she heard Lord Natascha saying, "—think you're making a mistake, Chiron."

"Perhaps I am," Lord Brascel admitted. "Yet the choice is made regardless."

He's like an old tiger, Narasi thought. '' ' Rrrrrrregardless '. Zygerrians don't purr that much''.

A shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of soft fabrics…a being pressing his way through others. Potbellied Lord Wisté said, "My lord, Dame Kaelora is not wrong; if we strike at Lady Gasald, it may draw her wrath down on the Tapani sector."

"The risk is considerable," Brascel admitted, while Narasi thought rrrrrrrisk. "Yet if Lady Gasald is any kind of strategist, her eye will be here already; if she had our shipyards of Fondor to augment Allanteen, she could build up a force to take Corellia all the more easily. Even if she is not, this tame Togorian of hers, Darth Kra'all, must have seen it.  Gasald will target us whether we strike her or not, so we might as well strike her."

Narasi's heart leaped into her throat. Had they said yes, then? Had the Tapani nobles signed their Jedi onto the mission?

Brascel asked, "Will you commit no forces, even to rescue Obveluus?"

"Obveluus's predicament is regrettable, to say nothing of the considerably more innocent Knights he's press-ganged into staying on that deathtrap planet with him," said Lord Natascha, and he sounded as if he truly did regret it. "But if you fail, someone needs to hold the coalition together. The Mecetti will seize any chance at power they get, and if you think just because he's a Jedi Lord Bonnaccia won't—"

"You needn't regale me with House Melantha's opportunism."

"My lord," Lord Wisté said, "should Gasald defeat you—"

"I have not compelled you to go, Lezascan," Lord Brascel said.

Narasi frowned. They were going…but they didn't have to go? The Cadriaan lord clearly wasn't going, but she couldn't make sense of the rest. When drew her hearing down and opened her eyes, Zaella shrugged, and Jirdo shook his head; he had crept up behind them all. Renata bounced from one foot to the other, Zaella's hand still over her mouth; Narasi caught her frantic eyes and she threw up her hands.

There was nothing for it; Narasi walked around the corner and nearly bowled into Lord Wisté. Remembering Tirien's cautions about touchy Tapani nobility, she bowed and said, "Sorry, my lord."

"No matter, no matter," Wisté replied, though he only glanced at her as he swept by, his face conflicted.

Lords Brascel and Natascha were still in the hall, but they clammed up when Narasi approached. Passing them with another bow and "by your leave", she slipped into the Kaivalts' meditative replica of the Jedi Council room. She couldn't get a clear read on the emotions of the Jedi Knights around her, but many of them saved her the effort—she didn't need to do much more than look at their faces. Amaani Wisté and Kaelora Kaivalt whispered an argument in one corner of the room, while Gaebrean Kaivalt declaimed somewhat more loudly on the virtues of the mission to his sister Cesylee and Drake Paddox; Raven hesitated between them and Raina, who sat on a tuffet, staring at nothing, while ancient Lady Sarmaddi watched the chaos, observing everything.

Tirien was enmeshed in a conversation with Miklato Kaivalt and Yan Razam, but Narasi picked her way to the periphery of the group and waited.

"I understand your perspective, Your Honor, and it wasn't my intent to sow discord in your family," Tirien was saying.

"It seems to have been the result nonetheless," Miklato replied, scanning the room. "Too often even the best-intended actions lead to unintended consequences. Though I can't say in good conscience that you're the first or sole cause of familial strife."

"You have a child staying, but you have a child going, too," Yan said. "Do you think we're wrong, or does Raina win because she came first?"

"It's somewhat more complex than that."

"Even if you won't support us with your abilities, Your Honor," Tirien said—before Yan could say anything else, Narasi thought—"I hope you'll allow us to use Inimă Eserzennae as a staging base."

Miklato sighed. "If for no other reason than to protect my son and my nephew; your presence will be known if you land on any of Pelagon's major cities."

"And maybe your nieces?" Yan edged in.

Miklato glanced across the room. "Perhaps."

Tirien caught Narasi's eye, nodded, and excused himself from the other two Jedi. Narasi fell in step with him as he left the meditation room. Renata had slipped in and knelt at Raina's side, watching her master with anxious eyes, but Zaella and Jirdo had waited in the hallway—on opposite sides and some meters away from each other, Narasi noted with an internal sigh. Unfazed, Tirien rounded them both up with a wave and led the way down to a door Renata had identified as a training room. Letting them form a crescent facing him, Tirien said, "Lord Brascel has agreed to allow House Pelagia's Jedi Knights to participate in the mission to Allanteen, and Baron Kaivalt will let us prepare here."

Neither Zaella nor Jirdo replied, but Narasi asked, "'Allow'…but not 'require'?"

"Very astute," Tirien said; if he suspected her eavesdropping, he made no mention of it. "Each Knight of House Pelagia can make up his own mind. Lord Natascha refused to get House Cadriaan involved, but he won't try to stop us, either."

Zaella wound the tip of her undamaged lek around her forefinger. "So who's going?"

"Raven and Gaebrean for sure; I think Lord Brascel means to go as well. Sir Amaani Wisté expressed interest, but his father has reservations, and his fiancé, Dame Kaelora, does too.  Sir Vinton won't go, I'm certain; neither will Raina or Baron Kaivalt.  The rest are undecided."

"So you, me, Yan," Narasi counted on her fingers. "Raven, Gaebrean, maybe Sir Amaani…six?"

It was less than they might have hoped, but Narasi thought smaller numbers had their own advantages; she and Tirien could not have done half the things they did on Darkknell with more than the two of them. Tirien, however, said, "I'm trying to call in a favor, so perhaps seven. Or nine…?"

Zaella to Jirdo both did their best to avoid his gaze. He held his silence until Narasi could feel the waves of awkwardness, though, and finally Jirdo cleared his throat. "I…well, would I even be any help?"

"Gasald has an army; every Jedi helps."

"But…" Jirdo sighed. "Am I even a Jedi anymore?"

The look on Tirien's face made Jirdo flinch. "Are you?"

Jirdo opened his mouth, but no sound came out; after a minute, Tirien turned his head. "Zaella?"

Now tugging the tip of her lek, Zaella hesitated before she asked, in a decent impression of her usual casual tone, "Are they even going to want me to go? The high-and-mighty—"

"I don't care what they want. I want you there."

"We do," Narasi corrected. "We need your help, Zae."

Zaella's eyes tightened. "Why? Why me?"

"You're a good fighter," Narasi said. "Not as good as me, but…"

She had hoped the moment of levity might break the tension, and Zaella rolled her eyes and started to smirk, but Tirien said, without a trace of humor, "And because, if you go, I know we can trust you."

Zaella glanced around, and Narasi sensed her feeling trapped. "I'll…think about it."

"Think fast," Tirien said, then stepped away, jogging to catch Raven; Narasi saw Gaebrean disappear up the stairs.

After Gaebrean's surprise appearance at their morning spar, and the way he and Zaella had bantered, Narasi expected her friend to have noticed too; she clearly hadn't, though, and Narasi took that as her cue. Intending to leave her companions to their thoughts—she did not want to push them into refusal by badgering too hard, too quickly—Narasi climbed the stairs back up, trying not to eavesdrop on her master and Raven. She hadn't even reached the top of the stairs when Zaella caught her.

"Look, do you really want me to go?" she demanded.

Narasi resisted the temptation to clutch her head—or Zaella's neck. "Yes. Why is that so weird to you?"

"I'm a—I'm Sith-trained, remember? If I have to fight, you know I'll use the dark side."

"You don't have to."

Zaella curled her hands into claws and gritted her teeth; Narasi thought she was keeping herself from wrapping those hands around her throat only with a supreme effort of will. "When are we leaving, tomorrow? Next week?  I can't learn a whole new fighting style that fast!  If I'm pulling my punches, you'll get me killed!"

"Who said you should pull your punches?" Narasi demanded. "The first time I ever saw Tirien fight, he split one guy's spine from bottom to top, and cut another one's head off! It was all very calm, but they still died."

Part of her marveled at how calmly she could discuss the memory, when for so long it had dogged her with guilt and shame. She wondered if she had grown in her Jedi center—her ability to move beyond emotion to do her duty.

Zaella said nothing as they reached the top of the stairs and walked into the first level, but when they came into the shadow of Donarius Kaivalt's shadow, she stopped. Narasi stopped too, studying her, and saw Zaella swallow. "What is it?"

"I…"

"Tell me," Narasi urged. "It's okay, you can trust me."

Zaella's amber eyes were frantic, almost frightened, and she lowered her voice to a whisper as she said, "I don't want to die."

Narasi blinked; having experienced Zaella's battle savagery firsthand, she had always subconsciously assumed Zaella had something like a Jedi's indifference to death—or, if not, at least a Sith's partnership with it. And yet…Narasi had been prepared to strike Zaella down on Circumtore; it was Zaella who had taken the step to bridge the gap, pleading for mercy. Was this why?

It took Narasi a moment to find words. "I…well…I mean, me either. But some things are worth dying for."

She saw at once how little traction that argument would gain with Zaella, but the Twi'lek said instead, "I definitely don't want to die for nothing. If we go and kill Gasald, and we all die, and the Sith just install a new Overlord the next week, does it mean anything?"

Narasi felt her eyebrows narrow; she hadn't intended it, but it came on so suddenly she only stopped herself from showing her fangs at the last second. "It means that when somebody kills a bunch of Jedi—a bunch of kids—they don't get away with it. Kids, Zaella; little boys and girls.  The youngest of them could barely even walk; we had a nursery on the Crescentia.  And now they're all dead…all of them…"

She heard the horror in her voice, felt the icy breath of boundless grief on her heart, a deep chill no Tapas could ever warm away. Gasald had done it—burned Ayson and all his friends, and kids even younger than them. Narasi had no desire to die, but if she could take Vedya Gasald with her, she knew she would go out with a smile.

Zaella's face showed the conflict Narasi could feel, but they glanced up in unison at the sound of voices. Zaella stepped under the second floor's interior balcony, tapping her ear cone; Narasi rolled her eyes, sighed, and joined her.

"…you are my son," she heard Vinton Kaivalt say.

"How thoughtful of you to remember," Gaebrean replied. "Is it my birthday?"

"This is serious! Lord Brascel does not endorse this foolish expedition—"

"Did we attend the same meeting? He allowed us all to go—"

"Allowed, yes, but had he truly supported this madness, it would have been an order."

"He's going!"

Sir Vinton was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke next his voice was at the edge of even Narasi's Force-backed hearing. "So much the better to stay. If Lord Brascel dies, House Pelagia will be weakened, and with Lady Gasald targeting us, strong leadership will be needed to ensure the Tapani sector holds.  We Jedi are all that give the Sith pause.  If your uncle is advanced to a lordship, our branch of the family—"

"Oh of course, Father, how silly of me! Here I thought a few hundred dead Jedi a cause for grief and dealing justice, when all along it was an opportunity to pop up a rung on the social ladder!  Why do the right thing when we could—"

A sharp smack cut him off; Narasi recognized the sound of an open hand striking a cheek, and Sir Vinton said coldly, "You have the temerity to lecture me on doing the right thing? When have you ever done the right thing, boy?  You swallow up my money with trollops, spend your days drinking with every disreputable man of low noble birth who'll buy you a glass of wine, and throw away credits on gaudy flash to hide your inadequacies.  You may have your cousin and these foreign Jedi convinced, but I see through you; this mission is one more garish token of your own imagined grandeur, nothing more."

"Well…" Narasi heard the tremble of anger in Gaebrean's voice. He cleared his throat and said, over-controlled, "Well, if that's your view of the subject, I suppose I won't miss you on the flight to Allanteen. Safe trip home, Dad, and buck up; if I die horribly, think of the change in your net income!"

Narasi felt a little sick as she drew her hearing back down, but Zaella's eyes were tight. She was clearly wrestling with some decision, but before Narasi could even ask, her hesitation cleared and she was gone across the foyer, taking the steps two at a time to the second floor. Even at normal hearing, Narasi heard her breathless, "Oh, Gaebrean, sorry about that…"

"Not at all, Zaella—unless you mean for not calling me 'Gaeb', which I confess wounds me…"

Narasi heard the sly edge to Zaella's laugh. "Gaeb, then. I hear you're going?"

"I am, as it happens—not a universally popular decision, sadly, but there you are."

"A brave one; I heard Gasald's quite a schutta."

"Gracious, Zaella, what a very unladylike thing to say."

Narasi couldn't help but agree, although, left to her own devices, she would have leveled some Zygerrian curses against Gasald that would've made schutta a slap on the wrist. But she heard the teasing tone in Gaebrean's voice—strained a bit, like it was taking some effort, but present—and she knew Zaella well enough to envision her exact grin as she replied, "Oh Gaeb, you haven't seen me be unladylike yet."

"Well, the day's young…"

"Oh, for Force's sake," Narasi muttered. Sticking out her tongue, she turned and headed back through the house. Dodging around Sir Kobold Baliss, who was so lost in thought that he didn't seem to hear her greeting, Narasi got out the back deck, enjoying the sea breeze tinged with the smell of pine and hoping no one had gone out to the courtyard to below to gossip, too.

Seven, maybe nine…who could Tirien's extra be? Even though she knew it was selfish and the north front needed her, Narasi hoped it would be Kenza. On Anaxes, Kenza had taken down two Vanguardians single-handedly, and Narasi didn't exactly have to struggle to imagine Kenza Rowkwani breaking some rules to go on an unsanctioned mission. Or maybe Master Kadych had recovered? That prospect was less appealing, and last Narasi had heard his prognosis wasn't great, but she could admit that, other than her own master, there was no Jedi she'd feel less in danger beside.

The door opened behind her; Narasi wasn't sure who she expected or wanted to see, but she found Renata there, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"I asked my master again. We're…we're not going with you," she said.

"Yeah, Tirien told me."

Renata shuffled her feet. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well…" Narasi grunted. How much Renata could've added to the mission Narasi wasn't sure, but Raina was a powerful Jedi—at least as skillful as her brother, and Raven had tested Tirien hard when Narasi had watched them spar. That wasn't Renata's fault, but it begged the question… "If it was up to you, would you come?"

Renata's eyes widened, and Narasi realized how unfair that question was. She and Aldayr griped about Mali and Tirien a little, but they were friends; she had really only known Renata a week. Narasi imagined what she would say to some Padawan who moved into her home and asked her to criticize Tirien behind his back. Sighing, she wiped a hand down her face and said, "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"Thanks," Renata said, her relief obvious. She hurried to add, "But I asked my master, and she said I can help you prepare."

"Help how?"

"Well, I could spar with you, or…or just anything. Whatever you need.  And I think she'll help too."

Even Narasi and Zaella could fight circles around Renata, but Raina's help might make a big difference. And Narasi recognized a sign of solidarity from a fellow Jedi. Clapping Renata on the upper arm, she said, "Thanks."

She underestimated her strength, and she caught Renata as the diminutive Human staggered off-balance. Renata rubbed her arm, but she smiled and asked, "When do we get started?"

"Let me check with Tirien to see what the plan is, but otherwise…" She mustered a grin. "No time like the present."