Moments of Truth/Part 5

Zaella had endured longer and more painful days than the one she spent aboard the Second Chance, bouncing from one hyperspace jump point to another on their fool's quest into Wild Space, but off the top of her head she couldn't recall a more awkward one.

It took Narasi a while to come back from the cockpit, and Zaella passed the time contemplating the ruined tip of her lek and glowering at Narasi's gizka whenever it showed signs of hopping in her direction. She wanted to dig out her sketch pad, but she knew her fuse was too short to deal with the Jedi's nosiness today. When Narasi finally did return, they passed several minutes in uncomfortable silence before the Zygerrian went through a series of failed exercises; Zaella gathered that her burned arm hurt too much for pushups or handstands. She managed a set of crunches with only a few grimaces, then settled in to read from her datapad; Zaella dug out Izkara's, but found it biometrically locked. She wished she had thought to cut off Izkara's thumb and bring it along for the print.

When Tirien was content that they had a few hours on a single jump, he came back and the Jedi settled into a second round of meditation. Zaella refused their invitation to join in, but the stabbing pain of her lek mounted toward agony again, and once she sensed the Jedi deep into the Force, she took her second dose of ryll. Only a single vial remained along with her sketchpad.

It'll get better, she thought as she changed the bandage and struggled not to scream. The mangled strips of flesh and the last strips of clinging muscle burned in the open air; she wrapped them back up as quickly as possible and tried not to cry as her hastiness squeezed them tight. It has to get better.

The ryll took off the edge, but she half-regretted taking it as she watched Tirien and Narasi spar, knowing that she could have picked out important weaknesses and shortcomings with full mental clarity. Narasi was a little hampered by the overhead, but even without the ability to incorporate downward blows Tirien was clearly better. Zaella hoped it was only the ryll making him seem that fast and precise; if it wasn't, there would be no escaping these Jedi no matter how long they kept her, even if she did get her lightsaber back. Narasi looked unpolished in comparison, but that said more about Tirien than her; she was still good, and Zaella had to confront the annoying realization that her defeat on Circumtore might not have been a fluke.

Narasi showered again when they were done, then announced she was going to sleep; with no other viable options, Zaella crawled into bed too. She lay awake for hours after Narasi dropped off, trying to meditate relief of her pain. She had heard all of Tirien's words about regenerating cells and focusing on the Force for protection, but all she managed to do was make herself angrier, and that made the pain worse. Tirien had opted to doze in the cockpit instead of on the floor so he could adjust the ship's course as needed; for a brief moment Zaella thought of asking him for guidance, but just the idea made her ribs tighten around her lungs. She didn't want to spend one more minute under those cold, piercing eyes than she had to.

Izkara had always been the type for direct viciousness, but Zaella had gotten along decently enough with other apprentices to see their masters' styles at work too. The most dangerous had been the kind who camouflaged themselves with soft words and gentleness, and handed down brutal punishments with such convincing regret that they had their apprentices believing the apprentices were the villains in it all. Zaella was resolved not to fall for the ploy; no matter how many times Tirien offered to 'help' her, she hadn't forgotten that he was the one who had withheld her lightsaber.

She slept fitfully and woke often, and she was struggling to doze off again when Narasi got up. Through the lashes of her almost-closed eyes, Zaella saw Narasi peer at her, then creep away. She tensed, wondering what the Zygerrian was plotting, until she heard the refresher door close and realized Narasi just hadn't wanted to wake her. Zaella shifted, curling up with Tirien's pillow and trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in the pit of her stomach.

She jolted awake—realizing belatedly that she had fallen asleep—and found Narasi looking at her again, this time with the light behind her and one hand outstretched. Zaella jerked away from her, but the bunk didn't let her go far and she banged the bases of her lekku against the back wall. Groaning in pain, clapping one hand against the back of her skull, she hissed, "What?!"

Narasi's eyes had widened, and she pulled her hand back. "Tirien said to let you sleep before, but…we're here. Time to get up."

Zaella moaned and stuck her face in her pillow. After a few seconds, sensing Narasi was still there, she flicked her hand. Only when the Jedi backed off did Zaella pry herself away from the soft warmth of the pillow and lower herself to the floor. She saw the shadows under her eyes in the refresher mirror, and when she peeled the bandages off tchun's tip she doubled over halfway through, choking back a sob. The red flesh was turning yellow, and Zaella squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the inevitability of it.

The hold was deserted when she finally came back out, but Narasi called from the cockpit, "Breakfast's in the galley for you!"

Zaella shoveled down something she didn't recognize—Number Six, I guess—then pulled on her boots. As she dug through her bags for a tunic, though, she hesitated; she and Izkara had been about the same size, and could fit in one of Izkara's black tunics easily, but…

Black is for true Sith, apprentice, Izkara had once told her. ''It reminds us that ours is the power of the dark side. Apprentices wear gray because that's the color of ash—which is all you'll be if you fail''.

Kriff you, bitch, Zaella thought, yanking out a black tunic and pulling it on with a vindictive sneer. I'm still here and your corpse is food for the swamp rats.

Putting on an empty equipment belt felt stupid—she had a comlink, but nobody to call—but she hung her pouch from one hip. She started for the cockpit, but saw the gizka, Gizmo, looking at her with his big, round eyes. She glanced down the corridor, warring with a bizarre instinct, but finally stormed into the galley, opened the drawer she had seen Narasi open, and pulled out a handful of greens. Walking past Gizmo, she held them out, shaking them impatiently until the gizka hopped up and caught them in his enormous mouth.

"Now stop looking at me like that," she growled.

The Jedi had the two seats in the cockpit, so Zaella leaned on the wall behind Narasi. Stormclouds interrupted the view of Guudria's surface, but when they broke the cloud cover, the landscape was a panoply of lush blues and greens. "Where are we going?"

"Not a lot of tech signatures, so we're scouting some of the places that registered," Narasi reported. She pulled up a holomap of the continent. "See this blob? It's kinda like a ring."

"So why not go to the center?" Zaella suggested. "If there's a Jedi queen here, wouldn't she be in a castle in the middle?"

"I want to see what her rule is like for myself, not just hear her tell me about it," Tirien answered.

Zaella didn't know what to make of that, or what he expected to find, but she didn't ask. The Second Chance banked low to fly just above the blue canopies of a forest of trees, crossing a waterfall at the end of a river and banking upstream to come at a cluster of life signs isolated from the others in the ring. A patchwork quilt of farm fields lay at the end of the forest, and beyond that was a knot of one-story dwellings that looked like wood and stone.

Tirien set the Second Chance down in a spot of grass, and Narasi asked, "Do they know we're here?"

Tirien closed his eyes, and Zaella sensed him calling on the Force. "Not yet."

Zaella swallowed. It had only taken him a few seconds; maybe he was guessing from a sample, but his voice had a ring of surety to it. When she leaned into the Force herself she could feel the lives in the village, and she got no sense of alarm or curiosity, but still…

"Let's go," Tirien said.

The Jedi donned their brown robes, though they left their gunbelts behind this time. Narasi put out some food for Gizmo, and then the three of them stepped down the ramp.

Zaella noticed the cold first; after spending most of her life on Ryloth, the damp breeze made her shiver. The uniform cloud cover hid the sun, but the clouds were dark enough that Zaella thought the sun must be setting behind them. She breathed in a rich, earthy smell on the breeze—less pungent than Circumtore's swamps, but a far cry from the sharp creosote of her homeworld's deserts. In the distance she heard the lowing of herd animals.

A strong gust came up from the east; Narasi didn't flinch and Tirien actually lowered his hood, but Zaella shuddered. Tirien's sharp eyes caught the movement, and he shrugged off his robe, extending it to her.

Wary, Zaella said, "I don't…"

"Take it," he said. "I'm Pantoran, this is my native climate."

"And I can keep warm with the Force," Narasi chimed in. She cocked her head to one side. "I could teach you, if you want…?"

"That's not a bad idea," Tirien said before Zaella could reply, "but now's not the time."

He nodded, and Zaella saw a small, humanoid figure clambering over a fence. As Tirien and Narasi set off, she had no choice but to put on the robe and follow, feeling like a traitor. She told herself she was just undercover—wearing the enemy's colors to blend in better on a world they ruled. But as she snugged it around herself—and discovered from the lingering warmth, with a small twist of private humor, that Tirien at least wasn't cold-blooded—it still felt wrong.

As they approached, Zaella got a good look at the humanoid, who was dressed in tough, simple robes not unlike the Jedi garb—made for function rather than fashion. The Guudrian barely came up to her chest, though his wild, flame-red hair added several more centimeters to his height. He had a wrinkled, warty face with a short little snout, like evolution had been unable to decide between a mouth and a muzzle and had split the difference. When he turned to face them, Zaella saw the tip of the muzzle, where a nose should have been, was simply indented, like someone had shot him with a slugthrower and he'd survived with a scar. What she took for his nose, meanwhile, sat atop his head at the center part of his hair.

All in all, Zaella thought of a child's toy body holo—all the correct pieces were present (without lekku, of course), but not all of them were in the right places.

The Guudrian had a farm tool in hand, and even though it was taller than him, it still only came to Zaella's chin. Raising his open hand, he said, "Big people? Big people aren't supposed to land here."

It came out like ''Begg pepple? Begg pepple arenna suppussta lann hayr'', but the fact that it was in any kind of Basic took Zaella by surprise. A glance at Narasi's expression told her the Jedi had been expecting something more challenging too, but Tirien took it in stride.

"I apologize," he said. "We've never been here before."

"I dunno what the boss will say," the Guudrian fretted, combing his fingers through the hair that encircled his face like a mane. "She—"

He stopped as if he'd been struck dumb, then advanced, wariness flowing out of him. Up close, Zaella saw he had the strangest eyes she'd ever seen, even by holo: white, but with black marks throughout, like a piece of checkered cloth. When she could focus on his whole face again, she saw his astonishment mirroring her own.

"Is that…is that a laser sword?"

While Zaella enjoyed lezzer surd, Tirien nodded. "I'm Tirien Kal-Di; I'm a Jedi Knight. This—"

"Another Jedi?!" the Guudrian moaned. Tirien stopped short while Zaella sympathized with the Guudrian's obvious distress. Then the farmer shook himself, and Zaella sensed his sudden panic. He threw himself onto his hands and knees, pressing his face to the dirt. "I'm so sorry! I worship you, Jedi, and I praise you with great praise!"

"What?" Tirien asked.

The Guudrian raised his snout a few centimeters off the ground and repeated, in his clearest Basic yet, "I worship you, Jedi, and I praise you with great praise!"

Zaella raised an eyebrow. "You know, maybe you people are on to something…"

"Shut up," Narasi hissed.

Tirien raised a hand to silence them, then knelt beside the Guudrian, taking his forearms and tugging him up. "Please don't do that."

The farmer stood, though his face showed confusion and concern. "I…that's the proper greeting to a Jedi Knight. I mean, that's the one we were taught, Master.  Were we taught wrong?"

"Taught by whom?"

"The Kwenn."

At least, that was how Zaella heard it; she had taken a few trips to Hutt Space before Circumtore, and she knew most of the southern worlds. She was just wondering how—and why—explorers from Kwenn made it this far when Tirien said, "The queen…the Jedi queen?"

"Of course, Master," the Guudrian said, while Zaella slapped herself internally. ''Aliens and their damn accents. Bad enough I've got Tirien with that Coruscanti sound like every sentence is a lecture, and Narasi's half-hearted Zygerrian purr like her voice is running out of batteries; now I've got these people to deal with too.''

Tirien raised his eyes from the Guudrian to the village, and Zaella saw from the side that they had tightened into that sharp-eyed scrutiny she was coming to hate. "Is the queen here?"

"No, Master. She and the other Jedi aren't due for a few days."

When Tirien held a hand over his mouth, Narasi chipped in, "You said 'the boss' before—did you mean the queen?"

"No, Master," the Guudrian said, bowing to her too. "The village boss. Boss Mukka."

Tirien and Narasi traded looks before Tirien said, "Could you take us to her?"

The Guudrian bowed again. "Of course, Masters. Come, come."

As they walked along Zaella winced on every step; she had never quite realized how much her lekku flopped against her chest with each movement until one of them sent a lance of pain into her head with every jostle. She carefully curled tchun around her neck and over her right shoulder, draping tchin over it and down her chest to hold tchun in place. It mitigated some of the impact pain, but Narasi noticed the movement, and Zaella pulled her hood tighter around her face, trying not to return the gaze she could feel; she couldn't decide if smug "I told you so" or pity would be worse.

Tirien, mercifully, gave her neither; he was focused on the Guudrian. "What's your name, friend?"

"Me?" He seemed surprised to be asked. "Sunko. Sunko, Traap's son.  This is my farm."

"What do you grow?" Narasi asked.

"Oh, good crop of hoopa roots, Master. Makes good hoopa root stew, mmm, yep."

"Was your father a farmer too?"

"Oh yes. Traap Huurk's son was a farmer, and Huurk Wegel's son, and…"

He went on into a litany of his ancestors while Zaella studied the village. A few animals were penned up behind houses, while long pastures stretched out into the distance to hold larger, six-legged beasts. The outlying houses were wood cabins or crudely-mortared stone, with thatched roofs. As they passed along the unpaved road toward the center of town, more houses were stone and their mortaring was less weathered, and many more were two stories. A few even had shingled roofs, but none had glass windows, let alone transparisteel.

"…and Felep Doogal's son," Sunko said. "That's all I can remember now. I have their names in my house if you want to know more."

Zaella smirked at Narasi, who looked trapped, but Tirien came to her rescue. "Is that Boss Mukka's house?"

He pointed to the only three-story dwelling Zaella could see, and Sunko nodded. "Yes Master, that's the Big House. C'mon."

The square fronting the Big House was hard-packed dirt, though grass sprouted here and there. A tree occupied the center of the square, towering over even the Big House, its branches throwing shadows on the houses closest. As she passed by, Zaella thought the trunk had to be as thick as she was tall. "That's a big kriffing tree."

"Marekka's Tree, Master," Sunko told her, and he stopped to hold out a hand to it as if she'd missed it. "Way back when, Marekka climbed this tree to see the land nearby. She saw we had the river and good farmland, so our ancestors settled here."

While Zaella enjoyed being called Master, Tirien asked, "How long ago was that?"

"Hmmm, many many years, Master," Sunko replied. "Felep Doogal's son is as far back as I can remember, and Doogal farmed here."

Tirien nodded and gestured to the Big House, and Sunko led them on. As they approached, Zaella saw another structure in the square; Marekka's Tree had obstructed it. A wooden post about Zaella's height had been driven into the earth, with an iron ring on either side level with her face. "What's that?"

She felt Sunko's twitch of apprehension. "That's the post. Lawbreakers get hooked up there.  Sometimes they get whipped."

Zaella nodded, but Narasi distracted her; she could feel the Zygerrian's annoyance, though it didn't make sense to her. Tirien showed no emotion, but he asked, "Did you have that before the Jedi queen came?"

"Yeah," Sunko said. He tapped the butt end of his farm tool on the ground, shifting his weight. "Not so much whipping back then, but hanging out there, yeah, I remember that when I was a boy. Can…can I take you to the Big House now, Master?"

"Please."

Sunko slapped one hand on the heavy wooden door of the Big House; looking around, Zaella wondered if it was called that because it was important, because of its third story, or just because it was the only building she could see with doors tall enough for a Twi'lek. It looked newer than the surrounding structures too, and Zaella imagined it had been built for the Jedi, perhaps even on their orders. She wondered if every one of the villages the Second Chance ' s sensors had picked up had its own Big House.

A voice within grumbled a question in a language Zaella assumed was Guudrian; Sunko responded the same way, but even with the alien words and his thick brogue, she caught Jedi clearly. There was a spasm of surprise and fear from inside before the door opened and spilled light into the square. Another male Guudrian stood at the door, his eyes wide as he gestured them in. Tirien and Sunko went first, and Narasi gestured Zaella to follow; wondering if Narasi didn't trust her not to run away when their backs were turned, Zaella allowed herself to be sandwiched between them as she stepped inside.

A candelabra cast a soft glow on the long hall, though a pair of Guudrians scrambled to ignite more of the candles with telescoping lighters. Two rows of wooden benches faced a dais at the far end of the hall, where three carved wooden chairs faced the benches. The center one stood tallest, but even the flanking ones could be called thrones. As more candles piled light into the room, Zaella noticed the carvings in the backs of the chairs. Carving had never interested her, but she could appreciate the loving care that had obviously been lavished on the woodwork. When she pointed it out to Narasi, though, the Zygerrian had a stronger reaction than she'd expected.

"Master," she breathed, nudging him.

"I see it."

"What?" Zaella asked, feeling that, if they were better at art than her too on top of everything else, she just might kill one of them.

Narasi leaned in and pointed, and Zaella looked down her arm. "See that winged lightsaber? That's the symbol of the Jedi Order."

"Chuwanna Shurp's daughter carved them," Sunko added.

"It's great work," Zaella said. She walked past the Jedi for a closer look, throwing back her hood. "Especially the way the wood flows down into the ridges; when it's brighter it probably holds the shadows to make the symbols show up more. And the lacquer's really well done; it gleams without being too shiny, so you don't miss things when you look at it."

She looked around for other artistic touches, but it seemed Chuwanna Shurp's daughter had confined herself to the three Jedi thrones. The benches were all simple wood, and even the single chair off to the side of the dais had no greater complexity than arms and a leather seat. When she turned back to the Jedi, Zaella saw both of them studying her with expressions she couldn't understand, but before she could ask, more Guudrians came into the room from the other side.

"Sorry! So sorry to keep you waiting, Masters," a heavyset female Guudrian puffed; her Basic was accented, but clearer than Sunko's.  "Didn't expect you."

"I apologize for dropping in unannounced," Tirien said as Zaella returned to his side. "We've just arrived onworld."

The female stopped to catch her breath, studying them all; she had the same strange features as Sunko, though the sides of her hairy mane had grown down to her shoulders, and she wore nicer clothes that looked like cloth instead of wool. She had a bronze badge pinned above one breast in the shape of the Jedi Order's winged lightsaber.

Once she had recovered, she prostrated herself while all her staff did likewise and said, "We worship you, Jedi, and we praise you with great praise."

This time Narasi squirmed with obvious discomfort, and even Tirien looked pained; Zaella enjoyed the image of people kneeling at her feet, awaiting her commands, but it was soured by the realization that the obeisance wasn't really for her. Tirien sighed and said, "Please stand, and please don't do that anymore."

Some of the Guudrians looked at one another as they rose, and two broke into whispered conversation; Zaella sensed their confusion. The female Guudrian cocked her head. "You…you are Jedi, aren't you?"

"I'm Tirien Kal-Di; I'm a Jedi Knight. This is Narasi Rican, my Padawan apprentice.  And this is Zaella Sabir.  She's…"

The pause was long enough for every single Guudrian to turn his eyes on her.

"…with us."

"Thanks a lot," Zaella muttered.

"I'm Boss Mukka, Pimpa's daughter," the Guudrian boss said. "The queen made me boss of this village."

"Tell me about the queen," Tirien said.

Boss Mukka gestured to the dais. "Would the Masters like to sit while we talk?"

"You don't have to call us 'Master', either," Tirien said as they walked, to Zaella's disappointment. "I'm only a Knight, not a Jedi Master, and Narasi and Zaella aren't Knights yet. Tirien, Narasi, and Zaella; that's enough for us."

The way he said it threw Zaella for a loop; she and Narasi were not Knights yet? Did the Jedi expect her to become one of them?

Well, your chances of being a Sith Knight are pretty shot, she thought. Going home's gonna be a hard sell…

But being an outcast didn't make her a Jedi. Grimacing, Zaella made for the dais, but stopped when Narasi poked her arm. Tirien had seated himself in the bench in the front row, and Narasi took a seat beside him. Zaella considered taking one of the thrones anyway, but Tirien gave her a cold-eyed look that chilled her worse than the wind. She didn't know what he would do to her if she defied him in front of the Guudrians, but she slunk to Narasi's side rather than find out.

Boss Mukka stopped at the side chair, confusion in every wrinkle and line of her face. "Masters, don't you want…?"

She gestured to the thrones, but Tirien shook his head. "We're fine here, Boss Mukka, but thank you. Can you tell us about the queen?"

Boss Mukka sat with obvious unease as the other Guudrians took seats in the benches across the aisle. Clearing her throat, she said, "Well…the queen came to us…oh, about sixteen years ago? She and her Jedi came when Huff Mogon's son was boss."

"What species is she?"

"Speshees?" Boss Mukka asked, frowning. She looked at the other Guudrians for help. "Speshees?"

They all conferred with one another, but Narasi chimed in, "You're all Guudrians—you're all the same species. But we're not the same as you."

"And not the same as each other, either," Tirien thought to add. He laid a blue hand on his chest. "I'm a Pantoran. Narasi is a Zygerrian.  Zaella is a Twi'lek."

"Oh. OH.  Speshees," Boss Mukka mused. She looked at her fellows again. "Like zukrump."

A chorus of "Oooh"s followed this translation before Boss Mukka added, "I don't know, Master. She never told us.  She's not the same…speshees as you, though."

"First Knight Bras has tails on his head too, like Miss Zaella," a Guudrian offered.

Zaella wondered if she might actually find another Twi'lek out here, but one of the other Guudrians immediately said, "But his have horns on 'em!"

"And he's got horns on his head, too!" a third chimed in.

"Chagrian?" Narasi whispered to Tirien, who nodded thoughtfully.

"How many Jedi are there here?" Tirien asked.

"We've only—"

"'Scuse me, Boss," a Guudrian said from the audience. Getting to his feet, rubbing his hands together, he asked, "How…how do we know they're not…Sith?"

A disquieted rumble ran through the handful of Guudrians, and Boss Mukka's brow grew even more wrinkled. Tirien asked, "Have the Sith been here too?"

"No. Well, not yet," Boss Mukka amended. "The Jedi protect us from them."

Figures, Zaella thought. Can't catch a break.

The Guudrians argued amongst themselves in their own language for a few minutes, during which Zaella watched the two Jedi. Narasi's brow was scrunched up, but Tirien's only sign of emotion was the slight tightening of his eyes. After a moment Boss Mukka raised her hands, and when the debate quieted, she asked, "Um…Tirien…can you tell us…the Jedi Code?"

"Of course," Tirien said. "There is no emotion, there is peace."

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge," Narasi added.

Zaella knew a moment of panic, afraid they were expecting the next line from her—somehow, she doubted Through strength, I gain power was what they were looking for—but Tirien picked up smoothly, "There is no passion, there is serenity."

Narasi nodded. "There is no chaos, there is harmony."

And, so much in unison that they seemed to speak with a single voice, they said, "There is no death, there is the Force."

Several Guudrians shifted in their seats, their eyes wide, and Zaella knew why. In the recitation of their Code the Jedi had grown stronger, their presence in the Force magnified; she scooted a little bit away, overwarmed by the heat of it. For a moment they gleamed with light; then it faded and they were just two beings again. Zaella watched them from the corner of her eye, wary of what they would do next.

Boss Mukka and some of the Guudrians still had their mouths open, but one of the boss's attendants said, "Well…it was close, sorta."

Narasi blinked. "'Close'?"

Blinking, Boss Mukka assembled a doubtful expression on the fly. "That's not the version we were taught…"

"Which version were you taught?" Tirien asked.

After another brief discussion in Guudrian, Boss Mukka nodded, and a young Guudrian stood up from the benches. He wore a green and white robe belted with a gold sash. Giving the Jedi a skeptical look, he cleared his throat and recited:


 * "Through emotion, we forge peace.
 * Into ignorance, we introduce knowledge.
 * Knowing passion, we find serenity.
 * Out of chaos, we create harmony.
 * Death is forever, but we are the Force."

Narasi leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. "That's, um…"

"Different," Zaella supplied.

"In spirit as well as semantics," Tirien said. Seeing the Guudrians' blank looks, he added, "Words."

As comprehension dawned among them, the robed Guudrian said, "That is the Jedi Code the Jedi taught us. Yours is…different.  Your words don't mean the same thing our words do."

"No, they don't," Tirien said. "The Jedi who instructed you were…mistaken."

Zaella thought that was Diplomat for lying, and apparently so did the Guudrian, who looked at Boss Mukka. "Maybe they are Sith, trying to confuse us."

Tirien stood, laying a hand over his heart. "I give you my word of honor—I, Tirien Zavus's son—that I am no Sith. I'm a Jedi Knight."

Narasi stood too, copying his gesture. "Me too—Narasi Shaelo's daughter."

Zaella tried not to grimace, suspecting what was coming, and sure enough, after a long enough pause, Boss Mukka peered at her. "And you?"

She got to her feet, taking her time to stall as she wondered what she was supposed to say—whether she should throw the Jedi under the mag-lev and swear fealty to Lady Hadan for all to hear, or take her chances with them over the mystery Jedi of Guudria—but Tirien jumped in on her behalf. "Zaella isn't a Jedi yet, but she travels in our company."

Had he wanted to save her from a sticky moment, or just not trusted what would come out of her mouth? Zaella suspected the latter. And again the bizarre comment—isn't a Jedi yet. Did they really think she was going to switch sides, or was that a white lie for the Guudrians? Or were he and Narasi just thinking down the lane—was becoming a Jedi the only way to avoid a nice lifelong sentence in some dark hole on a backwater Lady Hadan would never find?

If she would even bother looking…

Refocusing, Zaella saw the Guudrians exchanging looks, but she sensed they weren't just hung up on her. Boss Mukka said, "We need to think about this."

"We don't want to make the queen angry," the robed Guudrian advised. "If they were real Jedi, they'd be here with her."

"We just got here," Narasi said.

"What is your name?" Tirien asked before the robed man could reply.

"Jebba the Force's son," the Guudrian replied.

"The Force's son?"

Jebba tugged the gold sash around his waist. "I'm the priest of the Church of the Jedi in this village. The queen blessed me with her Force to carry out the rites."

"It's not bad enough you people run the government, now you have your own religion, too?" Zaella grumbled in Huttese.

Narasi shushed her, but Tirien raised his hands. "I know this must be confusing for you all, and we interrupted you at the end of the day. Perhaps we could return to speak more tomorrow?"

Boss Mukka didn't sigh in relief out loud, but her mind said it all. "Let's do that. Come back tomorrow morning and we'll be ready for you."

Zaella wondered if she was the only one who saw a trap in there. Narasi leaned over to whisper to Tirien; before Zaella could sharpen her hearing, he nodded and said, "Jebba, are you going to meditate in the morning?"

"Am I…what? Yes, of course.  Why?"

"May we join you? We can all meditate on the Force's will together."

Jebba seemed surprised by the offer, and under the eyes of all his fellows, he nodded. "Yes, let's…let's do that. Dawn?"

"Dawn," Tirien agreed. He bowed to Boss Mukka, and Narasi copied him; Zaella just nodded. When they straightened, Narasi gave Zaella a dirty look while Tirien said, "May the Force be with you all."

Sunko went out with them, and Tirien accepted his offer to show them back to their ship. Zaella figured he just wanted to wheedle more information out of the farmer; even with the failing light Zaella could have found her way back blindfolded. She was thus not surprised when Tirien struck up a conversation, but she could not eavesdrop, because Narasi dropped back to walk at her side.

"Weird seeing you in that robe."

"Weird being in it."

"Not bad, though." Narasi gnawed her lower lip with one fang. "You know—"

"How much easier your lives would be if you were three Jedi, instead of two Jedi and the Twi'lek who's just with you?" Zaella asked. "Yeah, I picked up the subtle hints back there, thanks."

"Just saying…there are worse things to be."

"Not where I come from."

Narasi stopped, and as Zaella stopped with her, she gave a feline sort of huff through her nose. "Yeah, well, it's not like you can go back there, is it?"

The question brought Zaella up short. Both Jedi had alluded to it, but neither had come out and slapped her in the face with it. More annoying than the words was their truth. Zaella had scratched a life in the warrens of Lessu for seventeen years, learned the ways of the Force and survived where others had failed and died; now, in less than a week, all of that was gone, and all her sufferings and struggles were pointless.

"No, I guess not," she snapped. What, then? Join the Jedi? The idea made her sick. She could try to make a living as a mercenary or pirate; her Force powers would enable her to take down any competing crew with ease. Zaella Sabir, Scourge of the Nine Sectors, she thought…but that could last only so long. Eventually, even if she could overpower everything the Hutts or Black Sun could throw at her, the Sith or the Jedi would take notice. And the Sith…

It occurred to her then: she could defect to the Sith Empire. She had over a decade of information on Lady Hadan, along with everything she'd learned about Tirien and Narasi, plus her own dark side training to put her ahead of the rabble. They wouldn't just make her a Sith Lord, but maybe she could start ahead of the pack. And serving in the same ranks with Darth Alecto…

"Do you want me to teach you Tapas?"

Zaella started. "What?"

"Tapas. It's the Force power that keeps you warm."

It was only then that she noticed herself shivering; the idea of not having wasted her life after all had captured her entirely. The moment she thought about it, though, she realized she was cold. Focusing on Narasi, she saw the other woman's eyes had lost some of that critical sharpness. "Um…"

"Narasi?" Tirien had stopped with Sunko several meters down the road; he seemed only just to have noticed they had fallen behind.

"We're good, Master," she called back; she turned to look over her shoulder at him, and as the wind caught the fold of her robe and tugged it away from her body, Zaella saw her own lightsaber hanging at Narasi's hip, within reach. She could go for it now… "We'll catch up!"

Tirien was silent a moment, but in the end he nodded and turned away. Zaella could strike…but she hesitated, and in her moment of hesitation the opportunity passed. Narasi turned back around, alert, and held out her hands. Seeing no choice, Zaella took them and said, "Uh…sure."

Narasi nodded. "All right. See if you can feel what I'm doing; it's kind of turning the Force inward…"

Now that, Zaella thought, I can do…