Force Exile III: Liberator/Part 6

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A whirling tunnel of light resolved itself into a glittering starfield as a small ship shot from hyperspace in a fluid motion accompanied by a brief emission of Cronau radiation. The crew of the ship took in the multicolored speckles of stars that matted the black of backdrop of space, one in particular. Setting a course towards a particular point of light, the relatively small speck gradually resolved itself into a slightly flattened spherical orb of dark greens, sharp blues, and more muted whites. Unlike the burning stellar furnaces of plasma that comprised the stars visible from the starship, this object did not emit its own light or throw off nearly as much heat. As a planet, it only absorbed heat and reflected or emitted an amount of radiation much more limited in spectrum and magnitude than that of a star.

As the small ship swooped towards the planet, her crew detected small settlements scattered across the surface of the pleasant-looking but frigid world. The inhabitants of the planet had yet to develop most of it, leaving the world a pristine appearance largely unmarked by what galactic society deemed “civilization.” There were no ungainly artificial space platforms floating in orbit around space, and the amount of white visible from orbit spoke to the largely frozen ground below below.

The vessel entered atmosphere gradually, activating its energy shields to dissipate the energy from reentry. The planet had an atmosphere hospitable to humans, but was considerably colder than most. A largely cloudless sky revealed expansive snow plains hundreds of thousands of meters below. The starship made for the equator, where there was a greater predominance of vegetation. The crew was guided to a destination that they did not the location of, following an invisible signal.

Cruising over a valley covered in trees, largely evergreen, that was fed by a pair of small rivers, the craft made its way towards a mountain range at one end of the valley. Aside from a flock of startled avians, there was no response to the noisy arrival of the ship’s repulsorlifts. Coming to a hover over a clearing pock-marked by boulders at the far end of the valley, the ship lowered itself, its landing gear extended and its engines slowly winding down as it landed with a muffled thump.

Sarth Kraen and Cassi Trealus emerged several minutes later, clad in insulated and lined clothing, over which they were wearing a pair of parkas. They both bore back-worn survival packs and their belt pouches were loaded with essentials. Leaving a somewhat concerned NineSee in the ship as they sealed the door, the two glanced up at the snowy peaks towering above them and started climbing. The world of Tokmia was largely uninhabited, they decided. While a primitive sentient species of white-furred mammalians known as the Oku were known to live here, they were scattered and few in nature, having had no contact with outside society since the end of the mining colonies that had once thrived here centuries earlier. The planet had slowly warmed a few dozen degrees since then, so that the equatorial regions now sported a narrow band of forests, with some of the warmest regions marked by deciduous trees while the majority of the arboreal regions were filled with hardy evergreens. They saw a few small grazing beasts and the occasional avian creature soaring on a thermal high overhead, as well as a few smaller creatures, but none of the fauna seemed particularly hostile or even interested in them. Tokmia so far was altogether peaceful.

The gravity being somewhat lighter than what one might find on Coruscant or Commenor, they found that making their way up into the foothills and then up into the rock and snow strewn slopes of the mountains was easier than they had expected, and their training had kept them in good physical condition. They talked little as they climbed, since it seemed to them that speaking would disturb the almost tangible tranquility of the world. During their breaks, they made little more than a quiet, halted conversation, intent on the climb ahead of them. While they had brought gear for scaling mountains, so far the path had been fairly easy to follow and gently sloping upward rather than jagged cliffs, so they hadn’t used it.

As the Tokmian day wore on, about eighteen hours by Sarth’s eyeballed measurement, the pair made their way into higher altitudes, having traveled a couple thousand meters upward relative of where they had landed the Hawk-bat but walked nearly five times that distance. The sky was clear and the air, though chilly, was breathable even at elevation. Soon, the scrub brush that had been their companion as they ascended gave way to mosses and lichens, which in turn gave way to rocks largely covered in snow drifts. By evening, they were walking entirely across a frozen crust of snow, the setting sun glinting off the drifts and sparkling like scattered diamonds in the conglomeration of purples, oranges, and scarlets in the sunset.

That evening, Sarth and Cassi set up a small survival shelter that had been in one of their tents. Sarth used a collapsible digging tool to dig a hollow into the snow in a rocky hollow that served as a break for the brisk breeze that whipped and whistled through the mountains. Setting the shelter into the depression dug into the snow for added insulation, they ate a quick meal of survival rations before crawling into the shelter as the temperature rapidly dropped and night fell. Just before they withdrew into the warmth of the shelter, they both paused to take in the magnificent starfield of the Greater Javin and the dazzling nebulae that it contained, which were readily apparent through the unpolluted, cloudless atmosphere of Tokmia.

Tired from their long hike, they activated the portable heater and placed it inside the shelter hanging from the curved pole that comprised the central frame. Then, they unrolled their blankets and wrapped them around themselves as they laid down to sleep, fully clothed to trap as much heat as possible and huddled together for warmth. Cassi fell asleep first, and Sarth followed suit a few minutes later, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Morning came early, with the sun streaming in over the mountains, having risen in the west. They awoke to the sound of their chronos buzzing at them about six hours after they had lay down, and reversed their evening ritual as they ate and packed up their gear. Sarth and Cassi continued their march in the same stolid silence that had marked their journey the previous day, following the sensation in the Force that indicated the location of the Jal Shey recluses they had come to reach. The air was not as silent today, and the wind whipped louder today, bearing heavy clouds and eventually snow. By midday, a light hail of flurries was blowing through the mountains, which intensified to a full snowfall several hours later. Jackets fully sealed and visors and hoods pulled over their heads, they struggled on, trying to light their way with luminescent glowrods. Thankfully, they could still pick out a vague path along the mountains, and their carbon ropes, grappling hooks, and climbing axes, had insofar been unneeded.

As they rounded a bend around a particularly wide spur of the seventh mountain of the day, Cassi noticed something that was obviously out of place with the landscape.
 * “I think we’re getting close to the Jal Shey, Sarth,” she said.
 * “Certainly. I can feel them in the Force clearer now,” he replied.
 * “It’s not just that. Look over there.”

Sarth looked in the direction she had pointed and noted that, less than a kilometer away, was a pair of faintly twinkling lights. Smiling, he turned to Cassi.
 * “I agree, but let’s not jump to conclusions. It could be an Oku settlement.”
 * “If it is, it’s an awfully Force-sensitive settlement.”

Sarth shrugged.
 * “If we keep standing here, it will be harder to answer that question.”
 * “True,” she agreed.

Clambering up the last stretch of snow field, the twinkling lights gradually resolved themselves into a pair of fires lit in metal braziers mounted on top of metal poles a few meters apart. In between them stood a sizable closed gate several meters tall and apparently forged of some type of metal.
 * “What now?” Cassi asked.
 * “I suggest we try knocking. If the Jal Shey are as Force-sensitive as we are, they have probably sensed us coming anyway.”

Cassi nodded and reached forward to rap on the gate with her gloved hand. As she did so, a smaller door built into the gate and concealed from their view at first by the falling snow opened, revealing the face of an older-looking Whiphid wrapped in a cloak and bearing a glowing lantern lit with some sort of fire evident behind its cover. The stout alien, covered in long, shaggy fur and with the characteristic tusks protruding from its long muzzle, squinted its eyes at it them.
 * “Welcome, travelers,” the Whiphid said in Basic, his voice low, but welcoming voice. “What do you seek?”
 * “Greetings,” said Sarth. “We seek the Jal Shey.”
 * “Do you?” intoned the Whiphid not unkindly. “And who are you that the Jal Shey would be interested in what you to say?”
 * “I am Sarth Kraen, and this is Cassi Trealus. We are representatives and bear tidings and a message for the Jal Shey.”
 * “From whom?” asked the gatekeeper.
 * “We come from the Jedi Order,” piped up Cassi, stretching the truth a little bit.
 * “The Jedi Order? Mmm, interesting,” said the Whiphid, sniffing as if their scent would bear out the veracity of their statements. “Come in, then, Masters Jedi.”

Opening the gate wider, the Whiphid led them into a small oblong valley nestled into the side of the mountain and enclosed by a pair of rocky spurs and the gate, and no more than two hundred meters long. Dwellings and other settlements were built into the bowl of mountain in several levels, stretching up a dozen meters or so and accessible by narrow snowy paths. The bottom of the bowl was largely bare, aside from a large dwelling at the far end, and a large roaring fire built inside a metal-enclosed pit in the center of the open area, covered with a metal arch.

As they stepped in, Sarth and Cassi immediately noted that the wind had all but subsided inside the enclosed valley. The Whiphid shut the gate behind them with a metal clang, and led them forward, his lantern swinging gently as he walked. Leading them across the snowy ground, he guided them towards the large opening or dwelling which dominated the other end of the valley.

Walking up to it, the furry alien opened the large metal door, covered with detailed inlay on its surface, which also sealed off this structure, admitting them into the interior. It appeared to be hewn out of the rock but well lit, with skylights bored into the ceiling admitting light from outside to supplement the light from glowing torches. They walked through a small antechamber, past several unoccupied desks, into a bowl-shaped chamber rising around them. In a rising circular levels were three ring-shaped polished stone desks that encompassed the circumference of the room with empty chairs behind them, aside from two notches cut into them at regular intervals to accommodate rows of stairs that led up from the ground floor. The effect was such that one on the ground floor had the feeling of being stared down by all others, and it somewhat recalled the Senate chamber on Coruscant, yet paled in comparison with the solemn grandeur of that other edifice, as a child’s drawing against a master artwork. The only other features on the bottom floor where Sarth, Cassi, and the Whiphid stood were a smaller desk and a speaker’s pedestal and lectern, slightly offset from the center. As with the rest of the settlement, Sarth and Cassi could not detect any technological devices adorning the room, which again was lit by a combination of skylights and torches.

At the desk sat a single alien, a Muun, robed in officious looking garments and poring over a stack of writings on some sort of parchment and the Whiphid led them forward to address it.
 * “Mentor Frelix, a moment of your time?” rumbled the Whiphid respectfully.
 * “Mmyes, S’vollke?” replied the Muun, scarcely looking up, its significantly higher-pitched and reedier voice a stark contrast to the burly S’vollke.
 * “I present two visitors Sarth Kraen and Cassi Trealus, emissaries of the Jedi Order.”
 * “The Jedi Order?” said Frelix with the end of the statement flaring up in a question and finally looking up at them.
 * “Yes,” answered Sarth somewhat uncertainly. “We are here to speak with the Jal Shey.”
 * “And why is that?” replied Frelix.
 * “The dark side of the Force is waxing full,” said Sarth, launching into his prepared statements. “It has already seen the fall of the Jedi Order, and the slaughter of thousands of Jedi these past few years. I bear a message from a survivor, Selusda Kraen. He has foreseen that those who destroyed the Jedi will not be content with that victory. They will come here, and elsewhere, to destroy or recruit all those who are not under their banner. The Empire, and the Sith who lead them, are strong. Selusda says this: Only by uniting together can the various disciplines of the Force be saved from destruction.”
 * “We don’t want to change your way of life, or undermine your philosophies,” said Cassi. “But you can’t stand against the Empire alone.”
 * “Well spoken, perhaps,” said Frelix, musing on their words. “For the moment, you have said quite enough, though. S’vollke will show you to a lodge where you can spend the night. I will consider the matter and see if it is worth placing before the Jal Shey. If it is, the meeting will be in two days. You may stay here until then.”

Cassi started to say something, but Sarth laid an arm on her shoulder, forestalling any further discussion. Turning to follow S’vollke back out of the audience hall, through the antechamber, and once again into the freezing outside and the intensified snowfall, they said nothing as they walked, focused on their footing. S’vollke led them up a mountain slope, the path unfortunately slick from the recent snowfall and Cassi slid and fell on her knee before Sarth reached out and caught her, averting any further fall.
 * “Be careful,” said S’vollke.

They nodded as Sarth helped Cassi up, continuing to make their way through the blinding snow that covered the path and whipped cold stings across any exposed skin. Finally, S’vollke stopped in front of a short wooden door built into the slope. Retrieving a metal key from some hidden pocket of his cloak, he unlocked the door and ushered them in, handing Sarth the key as the human passed by.
 * “You will find food and drink in the larder,” said the Whiphid. “There is tinder in the hearth, and a flint on the mantle.”
 * “Thank you,” said Sarth.

S’vollke closed the door behind them and they faintly heard the dull crunch of his boots as he walked back down the mountain. Flicking on her glowrod, Cassi swept the beam around the room, noting that it was built into the side of the mountain, with shelves lining three of the walls and a pair of simple chairs evident, but with no trace of modern technology or conveniences. A small closet apparently served as the refresher, but there were no computers or glowpanels anywhere in sight. All in all, it reminded her of a rustic camping trip she had taken while in school on Bakura. Sarth busied himself with tinder and flint with some difficulty, managing to get some sparks into a small pile of tinder after three strikes. The dry vegetation went up quickly, and soon Sarth added incrementally larger logs to feed a roaring fire while Cassi found food. It was nothing fancy-dried meat of indeterminable origin and some sort of hard bread, with water to drink, but it was filling. After eating, the two simply sat and watched the flickering tongues of fire for awhile, each one wrapped in their blankets until weariness overcame them and they were lulled to sleep by the gentle warmth and soft glow of the embers.
 * Darlyn Boda

Milya was distinctly glad that Darlyn Boda was considered a less-than-law abiding place. Anywhere else, her rather distinctive Delta-7 starfighter and its faded Republic markings might have drawn more attention from the authorities, but here, a small bribe was all that it took to get the local customs officer to look the other way. Before she left the spaceport, she ensured that her vehicle was properly secured; there was no telling when she would be back next to check on the vehicle. There was no such thing as an honest enforcer of the law on Darlyn, much less in the largest city which bore the same name. Thankfully, that meant her arrival had probably gone unnoticed by the Empire, though no doubt any number of criminal rings and gangs knew she was strolling out of the spaceport in the middle of the local night. She kept her hood pulled low over her face, but maintained a brisk pace, even as the brusque, foul stench of the city struck her. All in all, Darlyn Boda was not a pleasant place. The humidity soon had her clothes soaked with sweat, and the dank odors and muggy air did little to improve her temper. The streets were narrow and packed, and all Milya wanted to was to obtain information and supplies and get out of the city. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she reached the Matukai, the better. She had already nearly been accosted by several vendors hawkishly watching for passersby, and one unfortunate street urchin, perhaps about sixteen years of age, had tried to pick her pocket. However, the little brat had gotten more than he’d bargained for this time and, after Milya had ground the heel of her boot on his toes, the locals had given her a bit more breathing room.

Finally finding a cantina that more or less suited her needs, Milya walked in and was unsurprised to find it to be typical of the seedy establishments frequented by the scum that resided on Darlyn Boda. Ignoring the too-loud, off-key band claiming to be playing the hottest heavy isotope tunes this side of Bespin and its thumping, persistent bass line, she made her way through the dingy, random décor and the unkempt customers to the bar, which was about the only thing that was well-lit in the entire place.
 * “Get for you?” grunted the bartender, a sizable Brubb.
 * “Gizer ale,” said Milya, just a bit louder than average.

Brubbs weren’t renowned for their exceptional hearing; the perpetually high winds on their homeworld meant that they were nearly deaf by human standards. The Brubb turned and a brought her back a glass mostly filled with a bluish-green liquid. Milya sniffed it tentatively and took a sip. Her mouth puckered and she realized that the tangy liquid was actually a Gralish liqueur, a much stronger drink that she had no taste for. No matter, she wasn’t here to imbibe the local intoxicants anyway.

After a while of staring at her drink and sipping as little of the tart liqueur as possible, the heat of the crowded cantina eventually got to her, and she let her hood down slowly. The dimly lit place was not conducive to people identifying her anyway. Taking another taste of her Gralish, she shuddered as the liquid warmed her insides somewhat unpleasantly while staring ahead at the bar, waiting for the right moment to inquire about the Matukai. However, her introspection was rather rudely interrupted by a sharp tug on her arm.
 * “Heya, human girl, you look lost,” said an unfriendly voice.

Milya turned to see a pale Twi’lek male leering at her, his clawed hand grasping at her shoulder, and clearly more than a little tipsy.
 * “It’s not good to be lost,” he said. “Perhaps you should come with me. I’m sure I could help you out.”

Milya gave him a look of disgust, and casually brushed his arm off of her shoulder. Why was that inebriated males acted the same no matter what planet?
 * “No thanks,” she said, forcing a bit of pleasantness into her voice.
 * “Oh, but I know you like me already. All the fems do,” leered the Twi’lek, grabbing her arm again. “How’d you like to be a very lucky lady?”

Though one part of her was reminding her of Selu’s Jedi lessons, Milya’s more independent and stubborn streak won out, the one that she rarely indulged in on missions. With a deft whipping motion, her hand withdrew her Echani vibrodagger from its concealed sheath and pressed it against her assailant’s throat while grabbing one of his lekku with her other hand.
 * “How would you like to be the sad little Twi’lek with one lekku?” she asked coldly, all traces of sweetness banished from her voice. “I’ve had a long hard day, and I don’t have time for your stupidity.”
 * “My-my apologies. I must have, uh, confused you for someone else I knew,” stammered the Twi’lek nervously as the blade bobbed up and down on his throat as he was temporarily broken out of his synthehol-induced stupor.
 * “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you go back to your drink now?”
 * “Yes, uh-right . . . my drink.”

As Milya let him go, the Twi’lek clumsily made his way back to the table. Still glaring after him, she slowly slid the dagger back into its sheath. It was bad enough that she was in this cesspool by herself looking for a group of people who by all accounts didn’t want to be found. To have to put up with its denizens was worse. She had been on a few missions as a Sun Guard commando, depending on who the mercenaries had been hired to hit, but always as a backup role; never the one to actually make the kill or deal with the client. Luckily for her, operating on her own was hardly a new thing; a mongrel outcast wasn’t afforded the luxury of friends. Once she’d made her escape from the Sun Guards, there had been several months of wheedling her way onboard ships or simply stowing away, so she was familiar with this type of den. The best thing to scare off the local scum was to show them that she wasn’t to be trifled with, and the vibrodagger usually did the trick. She sat there for a few more minutes, thought about asking the bartender for information on the Matukai, reconsidered, and then got up to leave.

Plunging back out into the night, Milya wandered through the dimly lit streets of Darlyn Boda, trying to ignore the smell and wondering if such a thing as decent accommodations existed here. Selu had given her credits and while she’d slept in the street more times than she cared to remember, it wasn’t an experience she was anxious to repeat, particularly here. Given the humidity and local biology, a fresh blumfruit was likely to decay going from hand to mouth.

She stopped by several other shops and cantinas, but as she didn’t feel like drinking anything, her requests for information went largely unheard. The one Rodian shopowner who paid her any heed had simply shrugged his shoulders, a gesture absorbed from humans no doubt, when asked about the Matukai. As much as she desired to find the Matukai, Milya knew better than to not be subtle about inquiring for information. A place like this had to have dozens of people willing to sell anything about anybody to anybody else, provided it was done properly and with enough cash. Given that Darlyn Boda was an Imperial world, she could be in a world of hurt if people found out who she was and passed it on to the Empire. No, it wasn’t yet time to start knocking on every door, but with local midnight approaching, Milya was hoping to at least find a place to pass the rest of the night. Flying for twenty hours straight-small naps in hyperspace aside- had exhausted her, and her four hours picking through Darlyn Boda hadn’t helped any.

As she made her way through yet another trackless alley, stepping over a pair of drunks passed out on the moss and fungus-encrusted permacrete barely visible underneath the grime, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Years of fending off mobs of wrathful girls with combat training and her more recent experience with the Force warned her that something was wrong. Her hand slid into her belt to grasp the hilt of her vibrodagger, but it was too late.
 * “Let go of da blade, girly,” growled a voice from behind her.

Milya froze. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Milya saw the old, but sizable blaster in the hands of a man so dirty and bedraggled he almost blended into the soiled alley. He was standing three meters away-far enough that jumping him would be a little tricky, but close enough so that he could scarcely miss her if he fired. Except that he didn’t know what she was capable of; were all the idiots here following her? Tensing her legs to spring backwards into a somersault, she was so distracted that she didn’t notice the clawed hand that shot out from the shadows and grabbed her arm, hauling her slender frame across the alley. Surprised, Milya found herself staring back at the Twi’lek from the first cantina she had walked into and this time he had a blaster pressed against her stomach.
 * “Remember me?” he asked with that same uncomfortable smile.
 * “No, never seen you before,” she managed smoothly. “Please let me go?”
 * “Ha, not so fast, offworlder!” he snorted, jerking her until she was pressed up against him. “You gave me a bad time back at Bledsole’s.”
 * “Did I? My apologies?” said Milya.

More disturbingly, her Force senses detected more thugs standing behind her; a mixed group of humans and Twi’leks, all male, all malevolent, and probably all armed. There were at least six of them. Milya grimaced, and not just at the pungent smell of the Twi’lek’s breath. Less than a day into her search and she’d already been trapped by a bunch of drunken thugs. Hardly a promising way to start her career as a Jedi. Selu would be angry. Spectre would be disappointed, and Cassi would probably be worried, she concluded-assuming she got out of this mess first, which wasn’t looking very likely at the moment.
 * “Hahahaha, sorry’s not good enough. You gave me a bad time; now I’m gonna give you a bad time, girly. Me and my friends are gonna have a bit of fun with you. Hahaha!”

He tightened his grip as he cackled, and Milya wondered how much damage she could do to the slimeball before his buddies shot her down. If only she could get to her lightsaber-but that was concealed inside her cloak, and with her arm pinned as it was, she couldn’t reach it without being obvious. Were she Selu, she simply would have knocked all of them into the alley walls at once with the Force, but her telekinetic skills were modest at best.
 * “Open ‘er robe,” jeered one of the two humans behind her. “Let’s have a look at her without her clothes on!”
 * “First off, it’s very poor Basic to end a sentence with a preposition. Second, the lady doesn’t look like she likes the idea of that. I suggest you let her go.”

The last voice was different, Milya noted. Unlike the others, it was cultured, and while pleasant enough, there was definitely an edge to the words. She craned her neck to see a hooded figure casually leaning on a staff standing at the edge of the alley.
 * “Or you’ll do what? Get outta here,” barked the Twi’lek still roughly holding onto her with one arm. “Or we’ll deal with you, too.”
 * “Is that so?” replied the figure with just a hint of regret. “Well, you were warned.”

With all of the thugs’ attention on the strange figure confronting them, Milya had taken the opportunity to subtly slide her fingers into her cloak until they were resting on the hilt of the lightsaber. While the vibrodagger might be more subtle, a lightsaber was a surer defense against the blasters that some of the thugs would inevitably be packing. As the gang prepared to attack her benefactor, she drove a hard elbow into the Twi’lek’s stomach even as she pulled the weapon out and lit one of the blades with a satisfying snap-hiss-it was too close for both blades. The silver-white blade lit up the alley, making her an instant target for two of the thugs. They spun and opened up with the blasters she had predicted, but a twirl of her lightsaber batted their bolts away, and a quick lunge and stab dispatched them both. A Twi’lek, coming up behind her with a vibroblade in an overhand stab, was quite surprised when she brought the hilt of her blade back towards him and activated the other end. The blade pierced his chest and he collapsed in a gurgle. In her time, Milya had become rather dispassionate about killing when it needed to be done. Guided by the Force, she whirled, ready to face any other danger, but the other two thugs were already on the ground and the hooded figure was standing casually over them, his staff still in hand, but now it was reversed, with the bottom up, and Milya could see the curiously-shaped blade that graced the head of the shaft. A design that was somehow familiar. Deactivating her lightsaber but keeping it in her hand, she walked up to her benefactor.
 * “Are you a Matukai?” she blurted.

The other snorted.
 * “Hardly a way to thank me for saving your life,” he replied flippantly.
 * “Oh.” Caught off guard, Milya fumbled over her words. “Sorry. I mean-thank you, thank you very much.”
 * “You’re quite welcome. Oh, and while that lightsaber of yours is very handy at times, it’s a bit conspicuous. Best not to show that around.”
 * “I see. Back to my earlier question, then. You’re Matukai, aren’t you? You’re carrying one of their weapons, and since you did defeat two armed men handily, you strike me as a rather capable person; more than a thug.”
 * “Oh, indeed,” he said. “Jahlel Almani, Matukai Adept, at your service.”

Throwing off his hood, which she had thought was black but was actually a faded dark gray, he revealed himself to be an Arkanian by his long white hair, tied loosely behind his head, and pearlescent eyes. His forehead was marked by a tattoo in the same style as the bladework on his weapon, and Milya guessed that it was some device significant to the Matukai.
 * “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, extending a hand to her.
 * “Milya Tayrce. I suppose you might say that I’m from the Jedi Order.”
 * “I see. Just what is a Jedi doing asking around a place like this for the Matukai? It’s hardly safe for either of us.”
 * “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. So you knew I was here?”
 * “We have our ways,” Jahlel said, smiling enigmatically. “But let’s find a more comfortable place to talk, shall we? Under the circumstances, I suggest you accompany me back to our settlement. This isn’t a safe place, as you might have noticed.”
 * “Agreed.”
 * “Very well. I’m heading back now, so if you’ll follow me.”

Milya nodded and followed Jahlel through the indistinguishable alleys of the city until they reached the outskirts of Darlyn Boda. By the time they were passing through the shanty town at the edge of the city, the sun was peeping over the horizon, coloring the wispy clouds ochre and crimson. Milya rapidly noticed the lack of distinct boundary between the city and swamp; the vegetation simply encroached upon the ramshackle buildings more than it did in the main city, and the smells, while different, could hardly be called an improvement. Trading the raucous sounds of a seedy nightlife for the croaking and chirping of the local wildlife did at least keep her from having to hear the same tune played with much gusto and little skill.
 * “We’re going through the swamp now,” Jahlel informed her. “It’s a good hike, so I hope you Jedi are up to this sort of thing.”
 * “Fine by me,” she said lightly.

Jahlel turned and began setting a brisk pace as they slogged through the swamp, following some seemingly invisible path. The journey wore on through the day, and Milya was soon covered head to foot in mud and grime, while Jahlel contrived to stay considerably cleaner than her. Some impressive emissary from the Jedi Order she was turning out to be, Milya reflected disgustedly. She’d already needed Matukai rescue and now looked like a bedraggled gutter waif. For the large part, Jahlel maintained silence as they hiked and Milya was inclined to return the favor. Being considerably food and sleep deprived, while not a new experience for her, generally provoked irritation in her, as she knew all too well, and she had no desire to instigate the Matukai through a hasty outburst of emotion. Furthermore, keeping her footing was proving to be quite a challenge in and of itself. He made it look so easy, Milya thought with not a little envy as she nearly slipped and fell into a sizable puddle of brackish for the twentieth or something time.

By evening, tired and sore, in addition to bearing fresh scratches from a particularly tenacious specimen of thornvines, Milya was ready to reach the Matukai settlement, or any settlement for that matter. She and Jahlel had been hiking all day with few breaks and her legs ached. Sure, she was in excellent shape and training with Spectre and Selu had only served to maintain her conditioning, but an all-day hike through muddy terrain that weighed down her boots and clung to her clothing was not in her usual fitness routine. Jahlel stepped as lightly as ever, and Milya noted that his boots seemed to repel the mud, affording him with considerably more mobility than her own feet seemed to do. Eventually, Milya consigned herself to plodding along in his wake.

Finally, Jahlel pushed through a thicket of tall swampstalks to reveal a small settlement, built on elevated platforms in the swamp over a mist-covered lake. The construction was modern enough, with permacrete pillars supporting duraplast walkways and buildings, but it was evident that it had been there for some time, as numerous trees, lichens, and vines were encrusted and entangled with the structures. To aid in the camouflage, everything was colored in dark greens and browns, making the structures virtually blend into the swamp. The mist and vegetation, as well as the failing light, obscure her vision, but she estimated there were between ten and fifteen round-walled buildings in the complex, connected by the same walkways and lit by burning braziers on the apex of the same pillars that supported the walkways and structures.
 * “Welcome to our little home in the swamp, Jedi Tayrce,” said Jahlel. “Follow me, and I will take you to meet Templar Bolfwé Grysloth, the head of our order.”
 * “Right now?” she said. “I’m not exactly looking my best.”
 * “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Templar Grysloth isn’t exactly keen on big appearances.”
 * “Still, the chance to rest would be appreciated.”
 * “I know you’re tired,” he said kindly. “But trust me, Templar Grysloth would insist on speaking with you anyway. He likes to keep abreast of visitors, so there’s no use putting it off. Come on.”

With little other option, Milya slogged along behind Jahlel down into the settlement’s entrance, passing through a pair of sentries clad in a similar manner to Jahlel and bearing that same tattoo on their foreheads. At a nod and softly-spoken word of greeting from Jahlel, the polearm-equipped guards, both human, let them pass into the settlement. As she walked, she was almost painfully conscious of her sodden and stained jumpsuit, covered in mud and grime from the day’s hike, as well as her soaked hair hanging in loose strands with no semblance of order.

Jahlel led her to one of the nondescript, rounded-roof buildings and stopped in front of it. The hollow sound of his fist knocking on the door reverberated through the air, mingling with the nightlife of the swamp. The door opened to reveal a sizable alien standing at the door.

Milya noted the sheer size of the reptavian standing before her. He easily stood higher than the top of the fairly tall Jahlel’s head, and he completely dwarfed her slight frame. His pale green skin, covered in scales, matched the green, gray, and white robes he was wearing, but his face and neck were covered with some sort of silvery down, perhaps akin to feathers. Conspicuous on his forehead was the same tattoo as Jahlel, and Milya noted that his belt buckle and collar clasp bore the same inscription.
 * “What can I do for you, Jahlel?” Grysloth asked, his voice deep and resonant. “Who is this?”

Milya was surprised to see that while Grysloth’s jaw was akin to a wickedly hooked beak, his mouth contained teeth and an exposed tongue, probably heritage from his reptilian side.
 * “Templar Grysloth, this is Milya Tayrce, of the Jedi Order,” Jahlel replied.
 * “Jedi? What brings a Jedi to Darlyn Boda?” Grysloth asked, regarding the unkempt human female standing before him for the first time.

Mustering up her courage with considerable effort, Milya managed to find her voice.
 * “I’ve brought a message from Jedi Selusda Kraen that concerns both the Jedi and the Matukai.”
 * “Kraen? Never heard of him. Is young Master Yoda no longer alive?” asked Grysloth, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through her.

Milya sensed the Force running strong through Grysloth, and to a lesser extent through Jalel. It was Grysloth who captivated her attention for the moment though. Just looking at those intense eyes spoke volumes of wisdom and insight. His sheer bulk, combined with his ability in the Force and decades of experiences, would make him an unpleasant opponent if crossed.
 * “I-I don’t know,” she admitted. “As far as we know, my companions and I are the last of the Jedi. All the rest are dead, hunted down by the Empire.”
 * “Yes, the Empire,” growled Grysloth. “That’s an entirely different matter indeed, but it doesn’t explain your message, or your mission.”
 * “Selusda has received a vision through the Force, a terrible warning that if you, and those like you on other worlds, don’t join together, permanent destruction will come to all of you. We request you consider our offer, and seek the will of the Force for the Matukai, but your fates may well be joined with that of the Jedi Order now.”
 * “Is that so? Let me tell you, Jedi Tayrce, that this is not the first time that the Jedi have approached us, seeking an alliance, though such occurrences were never frequent. My instinct is to reject this offer; the Jedi were ever seeking to spread their influence.”
 * “That’s not true. As I said before, there’s only a handful of Jedi left. As far as I know, there might be as few as five or six left. The Empire destroyed all the others, and they will destroy you too. Judging by how many people you have here, we couldn’t influence or manipulate you if we wanted to. All I ask is that you consider our offer.”

Grysloth stood silent for a moment, regarding her with those keen eyes, and Milya feared she might have overstepped her boundaries. Would he have her thrown out, or would he choose the more direct route and just bodily toss her off the walkway?
 * “Tell me, Jedi Tayrce, are you willing to learn?”
 * “Uh-sure,” she said, taken aback by his sudden change of topic.
 * “Very well. I will consider your offer, but only if you are willing to spend time living as one of us, learning the ways of the Matukai.”

Thinking of Selu and Revan and how much this meant to them, Milya nodded.
 * “I’m willing,” she said.
 * “Then we have an agreement,” Grysloth said.

He made it sound so simple, too. No lengthy meetings, no endless sessions of questioning, just requirement to study a different Force tradition for awhile. How hard could it be?
 * “Good,” she said.
 * “Jalel will show you to a place where you can stay,” he said. “Be awake by sunrise. You’ll be with the beginners at dawn.”
 * “As you wish,” said Milya, thinking that she would probably find the beginner’s class more than a little easy, given her background.

However, she clamped down on the desire to share that opinion and allowed Jalel to conduct her to one of the other buildings, which was occupied by two other females. For his part, Jalel stayed only long enough to introduce her to Xlora, a Falleen, and Yasi’kroc Sbicca, a female H’nemthe, before leaving. While she wouldn’t call herself xenophobic, Milya was slightly put off by Grysloth’s choice of her roommates. Neither reptilian species was seen often in the galaxy nor she had never encountered either until now, but she had heard the rumors. The cold-blooded green-skinned Falleen were alleged to be able to exude pheremonic influence on others, inflaming them with desire, in addition to their naturally pleasing humanoid appearance. Distinguishable by the four conelets on the top of their skull, proboscis, and facial bone ridges, the H’nemthe were distinctly non-human and possessed of a strange culture with mating rituals that had the female kill the male. Milya had that seeing female H’nemthe was rare, partially because they were sequestered on their homeworld and partially because their birthrate was considerably lower than that of the males. Spacer legend told of several unlucky wanderers who had fallen in love with a H’nemthe only to wind up dead and Milya couldn’t help but recall the stories that she had heard and hope they weren’t true or were exaggerated.
 * “Welcome, Jedi Tayrce,” offered Yasi’kroc.
 * “Thank you, Yassi’kroc,” Milya answered, hoping that she hadn’t mangled the H’nemthe’s name too badly.
 * “Don’t worry about pronouncing all of that,” put in Xlora.
 * “She speaks correctly, just call me Yask,” put in the H’nethme. “It’s much easier for humans to pronounce.”
 * “Again, thanks,” said Milya.
 * “You look tired,” noted Xlora. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the steam bath. The settlement has its own hot spring.”

Milya’s ears perked up at the prospect of a hot bath and she followed the Falleen out of the building and to the far end of the settlement. Descending a set of stairs down into a small dome built into the ground, Xlora opened the door of the dome to reveal steam coming from the interior.
 * “It’s our turn to use the steam bath,” the Falleen explained. “Each building has a set time to use it. We have an hour for the three of us, so don’t take too long.”

Milya gingerly stepped into the dome, which was dominated by a large pool of steaming, bubbling water in the middle of the floor with lockers and shelves built into the side of the walls. She gladly undressed and slid into the steam bath. The water was warm, but not overly so, and she felt the aches and pains of the day being slowly worn away by the heat. She eagerly washed the dirt and stains of the swamp off of her body and emerged from the bath with her skin pink from heat and the skin of her fingers and toes wrinkled from the water. As she finished drying off, her Falleen roommate returned and entered the steam bath. Xlora had brought a spare set of robes for her to wear after disdainfully looking over her filthy jumpsuit and Milya felt considerably better after cleaning up and changing into a set of clean clothes. While Xlora took her turn in the steam bath, Milya returned to the house, where she savored a sizable bowl of some fiery-hot meat and vegetable soup that Yask had made, which put an end to the rumbling coming from her stomach. After she ate, Xlora and Yask invited her to participate in an evening exercise, but Milya was exhausted, so she declined. Crawling into the simple bed prepared for her in the corner near the house’s hearth and only source of heat, Milya quickly fell asleep. The warmth of the room and spicy scent of Falleen in her borrowed clothes were the last things she remembered before she drifted off.

13

 * Yanibar
 * “Unidentified ship, state your name and purpose,” crackled the speaker.
 * “Yanibar Control, this Captain Almos Terthbak of the Imperial scout ship Observant. Transmitting clearance code now,” Selu said as pleasantly as possible.

Leaning back in the pilot’s chair of the Observant, Selu waited for the response from the small Imperial outpost on Yanibar. In the mean time, he took in the planet that filled the forward viewport and its mottled colors of blues, browns and scattered greens. So this was Yanibar. There wasn’t a lot on the planet as far as civilization was concerned; no major cities, aside from a small spaceport and a relatively obscure Imperial outpost whose purpose Selu had yet to determine. A topographical scan revealed a craggy world dominated by rugged mountains and deep canyons intermingled with several smallish oceans. The relative lack of water and slightly acute equatorial tilt probably gave the place hellish weather, Selu figured, though it was certainly habitable.
 * “Observant, this is Yanibar Control. Your codes check out. Will you require landing space?”
 * “Uh, not for the moment, Control. We’re supposed to check out some things in the wilderness first, but we might be by later. Keep something on tap for us, will you?”
 * “The wilderness? Why would High Command send a scout ship to check out this dump?” asked Control, sympathy evident in his voice.
 * “I don’t know. I just do what I’m told and hope it gets me paid,” replied Selu good-naturedly, relying on the age-old military tradition of complaining about superior officers.
 * “Fair enough, Observant. Just watch out for voorcats.”
 * “Say that again, Control?”
 * “Big nasty predators, Observant. Lots of teeth and an attitude to match. Oh, and they hunt in packs.”
 * “Uh, I’ll keep that under advisement. Thanks for the warning.”
 * “Sure thing. Yanibar Control out.”

Selu toggled off the comm display and turned back to Spectre, who was manning the laser turret.
 * “See? That was easy enough.”

Spectre gave no immediate reply. Selu frowned and tried again.
 * “Spectre, are you there?”
 * “Yes, I’m here,” the clone replied absently.
 * “Are you okay?”
 * “I’m fine. Just thinking.”
 * “About what? Yanibar? It was easy enough to get past the Imperials.”
 * “No, not Yanibar. You had that under control.”
 * “Then what’s bothering you? I’ve sensed that you’ve got something on your mind.”
 * “Selu, have you ever been in love?”
 * “What?”

The question caught Selu off guard and his mind flashed to Serra Keto, back during the war and his Jedi apprenticeship, and then briefly to Milya before he clamped down on that rebellious impulse.
 * “Where’d that come from, old friend?”

Spectre climbed down from the turret and sat down next to Selu with a sigh.
 * “While we were at Revan’s tower, I spent a lot of time with Milya. Learned to appreciate her talents, her skills. Her beauty.”
 * “Well, yes, she has her strengths. And she’s good-looking,” Selu managed.
 * “I suppose it’s not a surprise to hear that the army didn’t allow a lot of time for romance or leisure,” Spectre said. “The talk was that if the Republic wanted us to have women, they would have issued them along with blasters and armor. It wasn’t something we troopers thought about much.”
 * “True enough,” said Selu with a chuckle.
 * “Being out of the army and near your family, and then the experience with Revan-it made me see a lot of things in life differently. Made me think about my future, Selu, and then about Milya. Got to where I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Have you ever felt like that?”
 * “Well-Jedi aren’t allowed to form relationships like that,” Selu began.
 * “Why not?”
 * “Such a relationship is an attachment, and we’re supposed to be detached from that sort of thing. It’s distracting, and there are some stories where Jedi turn to the dark side because of a relationship.”
 * “So the Jedi used to allow families?”
 * “Well . . . yes.”
 * “Did they always turn to the dark side?”
 * “Not always.”
 * “Then why forbid it?”
 * “I don’t know,” Selu said. “It happened a long time before I was born.”
 * “You never answered my question, though.”
 * “Yes, I did. I said-“
 * “You said what you weren’t supposed to do. Did you anyway?”

Selu exhaled slowly.
 * “Yes, yes I did. Her name was Serra. We were about the same age-you could say we grew up together. She was . . . beautiful.”
 * “What happened to her? Were you discovered?”
 * “No. We never let anything develop, because it would have distracted from our commitment to the Order-never even told each other how we felt. I only found out she felt the same way about me as I felt about her as she was dying.”
 * “Sorry to hear that.”
 * “It was a long time ago,” Selu said, attempting unsuccessfully to brush off the memory.

He could still see her face with holographic clarity, smiling at him, and it bothered him, as it did every single day. Every kriffing day.
 * “So you know how I feel-what Milya means to me.”
 * “The analogy breaks down, but yes, I suppose so.”
 * “Do you think she knows?”
 * “It’s anyone’s guess, Spectre. I’ve known her for a whole eighteen hours longer than you and most of that was spent beating down ship thieves or dodging the Empire.”
 * “Humor me.”

Selu hesitated.
 * “I wouldn’t bet on this for anything, old friend, but Milya is pretty sharp. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to work on bringing this piece of Imperial scrap metal down gently.”
 * “Sure thing.”

Spectre got up and made his way to the sensor station, pulling the headset on to scan for storms or other anomalies while Selu moved to the piloting console and began flying the Observant through Yanibar’s turbulent atmosphere. His knuckles were white and he realized that he was gripping the control yoke with unnecessary force that had nothing to do with the high-altitude winds buffeting the ship. Inside, a fire was raging inside Selu from his conflicted feelings. A stubborn part of him, one that refused to relent despite all his pressures, persisted in reminding him how he wanted to feel about Milya, how he. . . no, he couldn’t say it. Loved her. Selu knew that there was no room in his life for that; there never could be. Revan had said so, and the old man hadn’t been proved wrong yet. What he needed to do was focus, focus on landing the ship and how to meet the elusive and reportedly hostile Zeison Sha. This would be hard enough without the distraction.

Gazing out from the bridge viewport, Selu noted that the surface looked marginally better than some warzones he had been in. The rock formations, largely fire-hardened igneous rock by the looks of it, were jagged and rough. Actually, it looked like the land had experienced several dozen years of constant seismic activity, considering the jumbled maze of ridges, cliffs, valleys, pits, and crevices that lay before him. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.
 * “Interesting. We seem to have landed,” Neach remarked as the ship set down with a jolt felt even inside the cargo hold.
 * “Yes, but where have we landed?” asked Terthbak.
 * “There isn’t exactly a great view from the cargo hold, in case you haven’t noticed, Terthbak,” Royner pointed out lazily.
 * “For the last time, Crewman Royner, you will address me as Lieutenant Terthbak. And you will be disciplined for your disrespect at a later time.”
 * “Aw, save it,” Royner replied insolently. “I haven’t seen you carry out one of those threats yet.”
 * “That doesn’t answer the question,” noted Jasnan. “Where in space are we?”
 * “How about the cargo hatch? If it still opens, we might be able to get free and find out,” pointed out Neach.

Royner walked over to the hatch and attempted to open it, but to no avail. Terthbak followed and also tried to release the hatch, but with the same results.
 * “Apparently our captors had the prudence to seal the cargo bay hatch,” Terthbak said.
 * “Really? That’s incredible, Lieutenant Terthbak. Because there is no way in the seven Corellian hells that I would have ever figured that out if you hadn’t told me. Thank you for stating the obvious once again. I can see how you got your rank,” Royner said, lambasting the officer with obvious contempt.
 * “Enough,” said Jasnan. “You’re even getting on my nerves, Marth.”
 * “It’s not your nerves I want to get on, Jas,” replied Royner cockily.
 * “Shove off.”

He shrugged languidly.
 * “Maybe later.”

Selusda Kraen carefully cycled open the hatch and stepped out into a hot Yanibar day. The sun glared down on him and he could better see the box canyon he had set the Observant down inside. Aside from a few scraggly plants, there was little else evident in the way of life, but plenty of red-brown rocks and scorching sun.
 * “Did you secure the prisoners?” he asked Spectre.
 * “Yes, and left them with a seven-day supply of food.”
 * “I thought I said to leave them three days’ rations.”
 * “You did, but that’s assuming we’ll find and persuade the Zeison Sha quickly, and I don’t want to have to hike through this terrain again to feed that whiny officer.”
 * “Your confidence in my abilities is so overwhelming,” Selu said sarcastically.
 * “Don’t get heated up over it, Jedi brat.”
 * “That was positively the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

Spectre shrugged.
 * “Consider it a part of my developing humanity.”

Shouldering the makeshift survival pack he had cobbled together from the Observant’s supplies, as well as from the Hawk-bat, Selu began hiking due east with Spectre, clad in his armor and a more compact set of gear, following behind him. It was hot and Selu was sweating not five minutes after walking out of the Observant. The Force kept him cool and refreshed, but there was no denying the heat. It was already local afternoon, judging by the placement of the sun, and they had made surprisingly little progress for a Jedi and former ARC trooper by sundown. The land was rocky and filled with boulders, ridges, and deep clefts that impeded their progress. Though a point they wished to reach might only be a couple kilometers away, it often required a march of five or six kilometers to reach, thanks to the Yanibar landscape. What life did exist was mostly in the form of small rodents, reptiles or birds. Spectre darkly predicted that many of them were poisonous and Selu was inclined to believe him. Even the vegetation here was seemingly hostile, with only the hardiest, thorniest, and least friendly species surviving. Rigging a makeshift camp in the shadow of a sizable monolith, Selu and Spectre were soon forced to abandon it when hordes of vicious insects came boiling out of the walls of what they had thought was a boulder but was actually a giant insect nest.
 * “What the kriff are those?” asked Selu, rubbing a large red bump on his hand where one of them had stung him.
 * “Dunno,” said Spectre, who was both safe from stings and much cooler inside his armor than Selu.

Selu looked back at their packs, now swarming with insects, and felt more than a little frustrated. Reaching out with the Force, he plucked them from the ground and shook them, watching as the insects dropped off like leaves from a tree swaying in the wind. To his dismay, his pack was already torn into, being considerably less sturdy than Spectre’s still-intact gear. As he peered into the sack, a sharp sting jolted through his backside and he turned to see a particularly tenacious insect attached to his rump. A quick swat settled that matter, but he could already feel the affected area swelling up and did not relish the prospect of sitting down.
 * “Bug problems, Selu?” Spectre asked bemusedly.
 * “It’s not that funny,” Selu said, scowling.

They managed to walk another kilometer or two, at Selu’s insistence, as he assured Spectre that the insects would have doused their packs with attractive pheromones, before setting up another camp. This time, they thoroughly checked the area for insects, predators, or any other un-pleasantries lurking in the vicinity. Finding none, they ate a cold dinner of Imperial rations, which Spectre was familiar with and Selu less so.
 * “Is it just me, or does this taste worse than they used to?”
 * “It’s just you,” Spectre assured him. “All in the mind.”
 * “Right.”
 * “Cheer up, Selu. It could be worse.”
 * “Do tell.”

At that point, a fork of lightning split the night sky and Selu ruefully recalled the thick clouds in the distance and the steadily increasing wind. A drop of rain splattered on his swollen hand and he looked up to see a downpour in the making, with no cover taller than wicked thorn-bushes and scrub brush complete with poisonous leaves available.
 * “You’re absolutely right, Spectre. I do believe it’s worse.”

Spectre, sheltered inside his armor, chuckled.
 * “You take the enclosed shelter, Selu. I’ll be fine with just the camoutarp.”
 * “Thanks,” Selu said.
 * “Sleep well,” Spectre replied.

Easy for him to say, Selu thought as he crawled into the shelter through the now driving rain. As it turned out, it rained all night and Selu could hear the wind howling across the wastes in between loud booms of thunder. A few years of shipping on a freighter had made him soft, he reflected sourly. To say the least, it was an unpleasant night for both of them, but especially for Selu.
 * Darlyn Boda, Darlyn Boda

Tark’darlaan stalked angrily through the streets of the lower city. His streets. He was angry and humiliated, and his small-time gang of part-time bounty hunters, part-time thugs, and full-time criminals had been completely demolished by a pair of maniacs. The idea that those events had been precipitated by his callous treatment of a certain offworld female completely skipped over his mind, already more than a little inebriated and fully hardened by a life of vice and greed. Several acquaintances had already made passing references to his bedraggled appearance, the bruise across his face from the Arkanian’s staff, and his embarrassment at Bledsole’s cantina earlier that evening. His only reply had been a snarl or growl, but he was going to be very rich soon. Rich enough to shut all of them up.

Turning a corner, he hesitated slightly before entering a building that was all too familiar to him and bore some distinctly unpleasant memories: the local law enforcement outpost. Tall and foreboding, its front was surrounded by a fairly low security wall illuminated by several lights. Walking into the compound, Tark strode up a familiar path into the drab and undecorated lobby of the building.
 * “Well, well, if it isn’t Tark the Terror,” joked the officer at the desk. “What are you doing here? Is it time for your monthly beating? Oh wait-someone seems to already have done that.”

Tark snarled at the desk jockey in response.
 * “Temper, temper. You know the drill, Tark.”

Tark gave the officer a curt nod and left his blaster on the desk, along with his vibroshiv, where they were collected and placed in a bin for return later.

It was an old routine with them, this. Tark had been in and out of here more times than he could count and every time the local law roughed him up and confiscated more of his hard-earned credits in return for keeping him out of true Imperial justice. Sometimes he had been through this station more than once a day. Tark winced. That hadn’t been fun. But not this time. This time it was different.
 * “Need to talk to the chief, Arno.”
 * “The chief, huh? What’ve you done that you need to talk to the chief? Did you kill someone, Tark?”
 * “No.”
 * “Well, I gots to have better than that to pull the chief down here to talk to you,” said Arno derisively.
 * “Tell him that I was attacked . . . by a Jedi.”

The smart comment on Arno’s lips died away.
 * “A Jedi?”
 * “Yes, here, Arno,” Tark hissed. “Complete with lightsaber.”
 * “Maybe I should get the chief, but you better not be making this up.”
 * “If you don’t believe me, I can show you the alley where my boys are lying carved up by some Jedi berserker.”

That remark was enough to get Arno’s full and undivided attention and in short order Tark found himself in a chair across the table from the grizzled and miserly police chief. After a brief questioning, Tark was instructed to lead a posse of heavily armed officers out to the alley where his comrades were still lying dead on the ground. A cursory look at the wounds on their bodies and some hasty questioning of witnesses was enough to confirm his tale, and after the evidence and witnesses were taken back to the station, Tark allowed himself the first hint of a smile since his near-deadly confrontation. They had been forced to admit that he was right-that a Jedi weapon had been present and now he was sure things would start moving for him. News travels fast in a galaxy with near-instantaneous communications. As everyone knew, news considered important to the ruling Imperial government travels even faster. Given the importance of his query, he was sure that a large sum of reward money in the form of freshly minted Imperial credits was due his way. And since his companions were dead, he wouldn’t even have to share it, except maybe with the lawfolk-but hey, they’d get their share out of him the old way regardless. Tark spent the night at the law station surprisingly well, all things considered, contemplating exactly what he would do with all those credits.
 * Yanibar

Selu awoke from a fitful sleep to find himself lying in a pool of water that had accumulated inside the shelter. A quick inspection revealed that his clothes were completely soaked and the swelling of his insect stings unabated. Muttering an imprecation about Yanibar’s weather, he crawled out to find Spectre already awake and watching a small fire that he had built on a flat rock. It was still dark out, but Selu knew he wouldn’t get any more rest and consigned himself to another day’s long march.
 * “What are you doing?” he asked.
 * “Cooking breakfast. Maybe a little heat will make those rations taste better.”
 * “Do you really think so?
 * “Not at all. Let’s hope we find these Zeison Sha soon and that they have something better to eat that they’re willing to share.”
 * “I told you, I set the ship down near the location where I sensed the largest concentration of Force power. I didn’t want to get too close in case I scared them off.”
 * “It’s not them being scared I’m worried about,” said Spectre. “According to everything I heard from Revan, these Zeison Sha are pretty tough characters.”
 * “So are Jedi,” Selu retorted.
 * “Uh-huh. Sure. That is your stomach growling, right?”
 * “What?”
 * “Listen.”

Selu listened and soon heard a distinct rumbling in addition to the wind and crackling fire. However, what his Force senses picked up was much more telling.
 * “Spectre,” he whispered. “I suggest you slowly, carefully, reach for your blaster.”

Spectre nodded and gripped the weapon.
 * “I sense them, too.”
 * “Yes,” said Selu. “Now- JUMP!”

Selu put action to words and jumped into a Force-assisted leap, lightsaber and shoto springing to life as a torpedo-like blur of fur, fangs, and claws landed right where he had been sitting. Spectre had rolled to the side and fired a single blast into the predator’s mouth, observing as it slumped over on its side, dead.
 * “What are those things?” he shouted.
 * “Probably voorcats,” Selu replied as he landed. “And there’s at least twenty of them.”

Bounding out of impossibly hidden positions, the voorcats closed in on them, snarling softly. Selu and Spectre stood back-to-back now, both armed with lightsabers. They had tried shooting at them with blasters, but the bolts did little but singe their fur and make them issue a bone-chilling scream of anger.
 * “Let’s hope the Zeison Sha didn’t abandon lightsabers because they don’t work on voorcats,” joked Spectre grimly.
 * “Now there’s a lovely thought,” Selu said, his eyes darting back and forth at the circle of two-meter long feline predators.

Suddenly, as if coordinated by some controller, the voorcats leapt, each one coming from a different angle. For several confused seconds, it was a melee of flying claws, swinging lightsabers, and the shouts of the two humans intermingled with the screams of the voorcats. Selu let the Force guide his hands and his lightsabers struck home more than once, sending limbs flying and opening deep gashes in sinuous, muscular bodies. He felt Spectre get knocked to the ground by a charging beast and quickly stabbed the trooper’s attacker through the head while Spectre called his lightsaber back to his hand. Turning to face his own opponents, he ducked under one predator’s lunge while slicing off another’s claw. Unlike Spectre, who remained relatively safe under his armor, even a glancing slash from a voorcat’s claws would penetrate Spectre’s clothes. The trick was to not get hit. Too late! A line of red fire raced across the back of his left shoulder and he turned to throw his shoto into his attacker, hearing the rewarding scream of pain pierce his ears. Recovering the weapon, he set himself and continued the battle. When the dust cleared, seven voorcats were dead on the ground before them and the others had disappeared as suddenly as they had come.
 * “Do you think that scared them off?” Spectre asked.
 * “Not likely,” said Selu. “If I were a voorcat and some strange creature had just given me a bloody nose, I’d find all my friends and jump him when he’s sleeping.”
 * “We better find the Zeison Sha soon, then.”
 * “Right,” said Selu. “Time to break camp. I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to; Yanibar’s wildlife might not know the difference between scavenger and predator.”
 * “Fine. How’s your shoulder?”

Selu glanced at it and noticed the four angry slashes running across his left shoulder where his tunic had been torn.
 * “Just a flesh wound.”
 * “You should let me clean that anyway. Don’t want it to get infected.”

Selu relented, though he chafed over the additional five minutes that procedure required. Still, the dressing on his shoulder did ease some of the pain, though using the arm sent jabs of fire racing along his spinal column. Gritting his teeth, he continued the hike through sheer force of will, calling on the Force to alleviate the pain and refresh him. A Jedi does not know pain, Selu repeated, dampening the receptors in that area of his shoulder with the Force. “Maybe you should try toning that down some,” Spectre said.
 * “Toning what down?” Selu asked as he clambered up a rock wall, behind the ex-trooper, who was already near the summit.
 * “Using the Force.”
 * “Uh, why?” Selu said as he grasped for a handhold.
 * “You wouldn’t want to be overly dependent on it.”
 * “In that case, maybe you should stop wearing your armor. You rely on it too much.”
 * “Perhaps. I was just thinking that if you use the Force too much to help you climb, it might not tell you about other things. Or you might be giving your position away, so to speak.”
 * “Spectre,” Selu said as he hauled himself up. “If there’s someone remotely Force-sensitive within a hundred kilometers of this location, they’ll have sensed us during our little tussle with the voorcats. Besides, I can seal myself off from the Force if I need to.”
 * “Whatever you say,” said Spectre.
 * “Any rate, why did you ask about that? Did you sense any of the Zeison Sha?” queried Selu as he pulled himself up onto the ledge where Spectre was waiting.
 * “Possibly.”

Selu sat on the rocky ledge and stretched out with his mind while scanning the terrain. All he could see was kilometers upon kilometers of the same craggy terrain and the red-brown rocks dotted with hardy plants that had been their companions on the previous day. The air was still heavy from the previous night’s storm, but the clouds were being pushed off by the strong Yanibar wind. However, his Force senses detected something distinctly different.
 * “About a kilometer to the northeast,” said. “Two groups, moving fast, but not too much. I think they’re in a valley. Shall we?”
 * “Of course,” said Spectre.
 * “Let me go first,” Selu warned. “You look rather like an Imperial in that outfit, and I would hate to see you lose your head to some overzealous Zeison Sha.”
 * “Right.”

Scrambling down through a gully into a ravine, Selu and Spectre managed to avoid a pair of thornbushes. Suddenly, a high-pitched whine caught Selu’s attention. He recognized the sound, from. ..
 * “Get down,” he hissed to Spectre as he threw himself behind a boulder.

Spectre complied and not two seconds later eight speeder bikes roared by, each piloted by an Imperial trooper in a lighter scout form of the black-and-white armor typically issued to stormtroopers. Selu noted with some displeasure the underslung minicannon on each vehicle.
 * “Do you think they’re looking for us?” Spectre asked.
 * “Maybe.”

At the end of the ravine, though, the bikes circled and headed back towards them, roaring by at full speed in a cloud of dust across the gravel-strewn sand of the ravine bed.
 * “What in space,” muttered Selu.

Leaning out from the boulder, he saw all eight speeder bikes converge on a single shape and begin firing with their cannon at some distant target. Apparently they failed to hit, because Selu saw them come around for another pass. Whatever they were trying to hit, it was fast and agile.
 * “It’s a female Twi’lek,” said Spectre. “Wearing some sort of camouflage outfit, but running hard.”

Selu envied his friend the magnifiers built into his purloined katarn-class commando armor, but he made up for his lack of technology with the Force. He could sense the Twi’lek’s fear, but also determination and courage, and he realized she was Force-sensitive.
 * “She’s Zeison Sha, all right,” Selu said. “The Force is strong with her.”
 * “That must be how she’s evading those troopers,” Spectre replied. “Shall we assist?”
 * “She’s coming this way. We’ll spring out at the troopers when they get close,” Selu said. “Can’t let them escape.”

Sure enough, the red-skinned Twi’lek woman was cart-wheeling and spinning her way towards the rock outcroppings near them, dodging laser blasts from the scout troopers.
 * “Uh oh,” Spectre said. “They’re splitting up. She’ll never dodge all of them.”
 * “How close?” Selu asked.
 * “About thirty meters,” Spectre answered over the roar of the speeder bike engines.
 * “Just a little closer.”

Selu peeked around the edge of the boulder and saw the Twi’lek dive behind a boulder for cover and reach inside her cloak with both arms to pull a pair of circular bladed weapons. He could see her looking out over the side of the rock, waiting to hit the first two speeder bikes, even though the others would probably burn her down. Selu held up three fingers to Spectre and then closed his fist and pumped it, an old ARC signal for attack on the count of three. Spectre nodded and pulled out his blaster rifle. The Force sang as he let it guide his actions, honing his awareness.

The Twi’lek rolled out from behind her cover as two scout troopers roared by, hurling her two blades. They both struck home, toppling the Imperials from their still moving bikes. She threw herself to the ground to dodge a flurry of blaster bolts from behind her, but before the pursuing bikes could get off another shot, Selu was there. Vaulting and rolling over the riderless speeder bikes that shot underneath him, he came down in the midst of another pair of speeders with both lightsabers blazing and a rapid pair of mid-air strikes took down the riders. Meanwhile, Spectre had barely needed to move from his position to aim and blast another speeder bike into a fast-moving pile of wreckage that threw its rider into the ravine wall at 200 kilometers per hour. The scout’s partner fired at Spectre, throwing up rock fragments in front of him as the bolts vaporized the gravel, and the ARC quickly abandoned the blaster for his lightsaber. The golden blade flared into existence and the ARC quickly set himself after batting away a hasty snap shot fired by the Imperial. The speeder bike fired again, but this time Spectre was ready and re-directed the next two bolts back into bike and rider in a classic Shien parry and that bike too joined the piles of wreckage.

Selu raced over to where the Twi’lek was still picking herself up off the ground after having been nearly run down only to hear a blaster whine behind him. Two speeder bikes were barreling down on him with cannon blazing, like a pair of angry Corellian dauber-wasps. Whirling around, he quickly batted away the flurry of blaster shots fired at him at him, but the effort kept him from concentrating on sending the bolts back to their source. Although his injuries and exhaustion did not even figure into his actions, he knew in some distant corner of his mind that they were preventing him from concentrating fully, from unleashing his arsenal of Force powers. If it wasn’t for the Twi’lek behind him, he might have launched into a series of aerobatic maneuvers towards the speeders, but defending her life constrained his movement. The Force rippled behind him and suddenly, the two speeders collided with a telekinetic thunderclap. One rider immediately fell off, but the other managed to gamely hold on until a sizable rock rose from the ground into his path and collided with his steering vanes. The impact was enough to send the man flying through the air with an audible scream to hit the ground with lethal velocity. As the first trooper started rising to his feet and began running away, the Twi’lek woman darted forward and hurled one of her blades, which buried itself in between the man’s shoulder blades a second before Spectre’s blaster shot hit him in the back of the head. So it had been the Twi’lek who had provided the telekinetic attacks.

Having dealt with the Imperials, she turned to face him, weapons still at the ready.
 * “Thank you for your help,” she said. “But who are you?”
 * “We’re Jedi Knights. My name is Selusda,” Selu said hesitantly.
 * “Jedi?” she spat. “What do Jedi want with Yanibar?”
 * “We come in peace,” Selu answered, trying to placate the sudden venom in her voice. “I only wish to talk to your leaders.”
 * “What of your Imperial friend back there?” she said, jerking a blade towards Spectre.
 * “He’s not an Imperial. Surely you sense the Force’s strength in him. He is a Jedi also, just wearing armor taken from the Empire. All we ask is that you give us a chance to speak with your leaders. You are Zeison Sha, right?”
 * “Yes,” she said. “I am Daara Sherum of the Zeison Sha.”

She paused before continuing.
 * “I have no love for your kind, but you did assist me against the Imperials. For that, I will take you with me back to my people.”
 * “Thank you,” said Selu. “That’s more than kind of you.”
 * “Save it, Jedi,” she muttered as she walked off. “You have a good hike yet.”
 * “Looks like we wore out our welcome in record time,” Spectre said softly to Selu.
 * “Indeed, but I wasn’t expecting a great one anyway. Grab your pack and let’s get going. I don’t think Daara will wait for us too long.”

Shouldering their packs, they began following their guide, who set a brisk pace through the ravine.
 * “How far is it?” Selu asked.
 * “Not far,” she said. “The speeder bikes were a scout patrol looking for our people. They were close enough to our settlement that I went to draw them off.”

Up close, it was evident to Selu that Daara, despite her prowess with her weapons and telekinesis,was little more than two standard decades of age. The differences of age in Twi’leks were more subtle than in humans, but Selu had known several Twi’lek Jedi and knew what to look for. He doubted she was older than he. Her youth combined with her striking features and the Lethan red skin pigmentation made her quite beautiful, but Selu sensed the stern edge and wariness about her and knew that she had known hardship in her young life. However, lest he offend her, he did not attempt to get a deeper sense of her mind. She was already suspicious enough of them, and he had no desire to add to that.

About an hour later, Selu had estimated they had covered about four kilometers since they had started following Daara. Skirting along a towering monolith that jutted a quarter-kilometer vertically in the midst of numerous rocky spires, Selu noticed considerably more plant life here, with even an occasional purple flower or two breaking the olive and khaki green of the vegetation. A high-flying avian soared overhead and Selu heard its keening cry as it wheeled on the air currents.
 * “Stay here a moment,” Daara said. “I must inform the sentries that I have guests.”

Selu nodded and he and Spectre waited in the shadow of the monolith as Daara lightly made her way into the brush and disappeared. They spent several tense minir bodies with bone-crunching force. Finally, Daara reappeared, though Selu’s Force senses picked her up long before she was visible thanks to her camouflaged clothing.
 * “They are expecting you,” she said with a wry smile. “Follow me.”
 * “I have a bad feeling about this,” Spectre said.
 * “Don’t be so worried, Spectre,” Selu replied to cover his own apprehension.
 * “You’re just as nervous as I am.”
 * “Good to see that your Force skills have been put to good use.”
 * “Trying to keep you on your feet.”
 * “Considering where we’re going, I think I have plenty to keep me on my feet.”
 * “As long you keep your head also.”
 * “Very funny. Speaking of that, you might want to take off your helmet. Makes you look less disturbing. Or maybe less Imperial.”
 * “If you insist.”

Spectre removed his helmet and they followed Daara along the side of the rock until she turned into an almost-invisible entrance into the monolith. Following her inside, Selu easily detected the physical presence and the Force senses of the sentries observing them and his hand automatically sought the hilt of his lightsaber. The cool air of the cavern was a welcome relief from the heat of the outside, and Selu’s eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting of the winding path they were following. An occasional flickering glowpanel provided a faint sense of light, but for the most part, the path was fairly dark. However, as they continued, Selu noticed the end of the tunnel was brightly lit. Emerging from the exit, he was surprised to find that the monolith was both hollow and open to the sky in the middle.

They were standing in the midst of a giant ring of rock whose gentle interior slopes sharply contrasted with the sheer wall of the exterior. In the middle was a small pond of water, apparently fed by a spring, and Selu could see younglings of several different species playing and splashing there. Trees and bushes, not just scrub brush, were plentiful, and Daara led them down one of the paths towards what Selu realized were houses built into the side of the slopes. They passed numerous other people on the way, many of whom offered Daara words of greeting and curious stares for Selu and Spectre. Not entirely unexpected in such a close-knit community.

Daara conducted them to a house that, although perhaps on the surface slightly larger than some of the others, was altogether indistinguishable from the others in the community.
 * “Master Olno,” she called. “Visitors for you.”

She opened the door and led them into a sparsely-furnished entryway.
 * “Wait here,” Daara said. “Master Olno, our leader, will be with you shortly.”

Selu nodded and both he and Spectre stood around, taking in the stone construction and wood door that no doubt led to the interior of the house.
 * “Daara, why did you not bring them in?” a male voice called.
 * “I have my reasons,” Daara said. “They’re in the entryway.”
 * “All right, I’m coming,” replied the voice.

The door opened to reveal a sturdy male Zabrak, perhaps middle-aged, and clothed as if just called in from some sort of manual labor, if the dirt and sweat caked onto his skin, vest, tunic, and pants were any indication. He seemed genial enough, Selu decided. As he entered, Selu offered him a slight bow of respect, while Spectre settled for a curt nod.
 * “Welcome,” he said. “I am Olno Mada, one of the elders here. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
 * “Master Olno, let me introduce Selusda and his companion . . .”
 * “Spectre,” replied the ARC.
 * “A pleasure,” replied Mada, taking each of their hands in turn with a firm grip that Selu judged could be ratcheted up to bone-crushing if the Zabrak so desired.
 * “They’re Jedi Knights,” said Daara, smiling slightly.

The smile disappeared off of Olno Mada’s face faster than a shield hit by a proton torpedo. For a moment, Selu feared the Zabrak would settle for tossing them out of the house. He certainly had the musculature to do so.
 * “Daara,” he said slowly, as if forcing out the words. “What possessed you to bring two Jedi here?”
 * “They said they wanted to talk to you,” she said. “And they did help me deal with some Imperial biker scouts.”
 * “Have you been ambushing them again, Daara?” Mada asked with parental concern, temporarily forgetting about the Jedi.
 * “I thought there were only four of them- easy pickings,” she said, a note of childishness creeping into her voice. “I didn’t want them to get too close.”
 * “How many were there?”
 * “Eight,” she admitted.
 * “Daara!”
 * “I know. I’m sorry.”
 * “Sorry! You could have been killed! And then where would I be?”
 * “Yes, Master,” Daara said, dropping her head in response to the chastisement.

Mada turned back to Selu.
 * “Thank you for aiding Daara. For her sake, I will hear what you have to say. Let it not be said that the Zeison Sha do not repay generosity and aid in kind-but no tricks, Jedi.”
 * “No tricks,” said Selu evenly. “All I want to do is talk.”
 * “Come on in, then,” he said. “But leave your weapons with Daara.”

Selu agreed, pulling out his lightsaber and shoto and handing them hilt-first to the Twi’lek along with his blaster pistol, while Spectre handed over his blaster rifle, blaster pistol, and lightsaber to the Twi’lek.
 * “The vibroblade, too,” Selu said.

Spectre grunted and detached the vibroknuckler from its forearm sheath and handed that over as well.
 * “Set them somewhere safe, Daara, and don’t play with them, either,” Olno said. “This way, please.”

Selu and Spectre followed the Zabrak into a cozy room furnished with a couch, a roughhewn four-legged wooden chair and table, along with shelves for holding a variety of household objects. A small carpet covered the middle of the stone floor and a fusion furnace for heat and power stood discreetly in one corner. Though Selu noticed glowlamps tucked into alcoves in the wall, they were deactivated and a sizable skylight provided all the lighting necessary. Not surprising for a building that was built into the rock, the ceilings were low.
 * “Have a seat,” their host said gruffly, indicating the couch while he took the chair.
 * “Thank you,” Selu said.
 * “Well, let’s get down to it. I said I’d listen to what you have to say, so speak. What brings you to Yanibar?”
 * “We’ve come a long way, Master Mada to seek the Zeison Sha, and I’ll try not to waste your time.”
 * “Good,” he grunted.
 * “I was raised in the Jedi Order, taken from my parents at infancy to serve the Republic,” Selu said, not missing the slight scowl that his words brought to Mada’s face. “I had never really thought much about the Zeison Sha-your people were mentioned once or twice in history lessons. When my time came, I was apprenticed to a Jedi Master. My friend here was raised on Kamino as a soldier of the Republic. When the Clone Wars broke out, we both fought-me out of duty, and Spectre out of obligation. The Jedi Order had been leading the Republic in the war for three years when we were betrayed, though. The Sith, our ancient enemies and masters of the dark side of the Force, had secretly taken control of the army, and they had the Jedi Knights killed. I was at the Jedi Temple when it happened and I barely managed to escape with my life. As far as I know, virtually all the other Jedi are dead.”
 * “I can’t say I’m too sorry about that,” remarked Mada pointedly.

Selu ignored him and continued.
 * “I started a new life as a freighter pilot plying the spacelanes after I met my biological family. Eventually, I met Spectre, here, who had retired from the army, and he joined the crew. Several months later, I was captain of my own vessel, and we were fairly prosperous. One day, though, we came under attack by an Imperial vessel and were forced to flee into hyperspace. When we emerged, we were on a strange world beyond the known reaches of the galaxy. In our explorations, we discovered that spirits of long-dead Jedi Masters inhabited the place. I know that’s not easy to believe, but hear me out. They spoke to us. They gave my companions and I new strength, new visions, and a new purpose.”
 * “If nothing else, you make a good storyteller, Selusda. I’d have a hard time making up a more ridiculous tale if I tried.”
 * “The Jedi are all but extinct, and the Empire will stop at nothing to hunt us down. However, it’s not just the Jedi who are in danger, but all Force users. The Jal Shey, the Matukai, the Zeison Sha-they will hunt you down too if they find out who you are.”
 * “So you came to give me a warning about the Empire? That’s hardly needed.”
 * “What do you mean?”
 * “After these Clone Wars you fought in, the Empire sent some troops to ‘garrison’ Yanibar for our ‘security.’ They mostly kept to themselves, so we didn’t mind too much. Then, like all the governments ever do to us, they tried to tax us and conscript us into their military service after pretending to be friendly. We didn’t much like that idea.”
 * “What happened?”
 * “Let’s just say that some of us got killed, but so did some of them. Ever since then, it’s been voorcat and sandka between them and us. If we’re spotted out in the open, they hit us with aircraft and artillery. If we catch them away from their base or in small numbers, they don’t make it back. This place used to be just a meeting area, not a village. They’ve burned or taken over all of our old villages.”
 * “I’m sorry to hear that.”
 * “I’m sure you are. Now, was there anything else you had to say?”
 * “I have something,” said Spectre. “I’ve been looking at the furniture in the room. Did you make it?”
 * “Yes. Took me awhile to find the wood, but I managed to get enough to make the table and chair.”
 * “It’s well-made.”
 * “Thank you.”
 * “Tell me, Master Mada-would your chair stand up under your weight if it only had two legs?”
 * “Of course not.”
 * “How about three?”
 * “I’m hoping you know the answer to that, Jedi. No.”
 * “The same thing is true for all of the scattered Force users who don’t serve the Emperor. The only way for all of them to resist the pressure of the Empire is to be joined together.”
 * “So you want us to join with the Jedi? When the sun goes black!”
 * “No,” Selu said. “The Jedi Order barely exists right now anyway. Master Mada, I know what the Jedi did to the Zeison Sha centuries ago. I’ve heard about how the colonists were stranded here to fend for themselves after the Jedi lost the knowledge of their existence. Nothing I can do will ever change that fact, but I am here to do my part in repaying that debt. I humbly ask you to consider my offer, though. Even now, my brother and some of my other crew are on missions to the Jal Shey and Matukai, two other groups of Force users, to beg them to hear us out and come together as one. Not as Jedi or as Zeison Sha, but as fellow followers of the light side of the Force living together but respecting each other’s boundaries.”
 * “You are going to atone for the entire Jedi Order? Are you out of your mind?”
 * “Possibly,” Selu said. “But it is my mission, and I will do what I can. Even if you reject my offer outright, I would do something to smooth the waters between the Jedi and the Zeison Sha so that we see each other as friends.”
 * “You want to be friends?” Dama asked, disbelief clearly evident in his voice.
 * “Master Dama, I am no Jedi Master. I didn’t even want this mission at first, but I will see it through if it kills me. I owe that much to my crew and to the one who sent me, who said it was prophesied that I would come.”
 * “And who, exactly, was that?”
 * “A long-dead Jedi named Revan.”
 * “Did you say Revan?”
 * “Uh, yes.”
 * “Perhaps you don’t know about this, Selusda, but there is an old Zeison Sha legend-call it a prophecy if you wish-that our fates will change when the heir of Revan comes.”
 * “The heir of Revan?”
 * “Your Jedi histories might not have told you how Revan gathered some of the Zeison Sha into his army when he fought the Sith long ago. He promised us that defeating the evil of the Sith would lead to the betterment of our lives.”

Selu now realized that he had seen discblade-hurling warriors in his vision back in the Room of the Crystal Heart and they had been ancient Zeison Sha.
 * “Did it?”
 * “Yes, it did, by all accounts. The Sith stopped raiding our people and the Zeison Sha were unified under a ruling council. Before we were fragmented into tribes, but Revan told us that we had to join together in order to survive. He was the only Jedi who ever cared about us if half the things the old wives say are true.”
 * “I’ve never heard of this before,” said Selusda slowly. “I swear.”

Mada studied him intently for a minute, scrutinizing him to ascertain the voracity of his statements and Selu felt him doing the same thing in the Force.
 * “I believe you. You might be a Jedi, but you haven’t lied to me yet. If you are indeed the heir of Revan, then I will consider your offer.”
 * “Selu, weren’t you given Revan’s armor?” Spectre asked.
 * “Yes. Revan gave it to me before we left.”
 * “And his lightsaber crystal?”

Selu recalled the solari crystal built into his lightsaber.
 * “Yes.”
 * “Sounds like you’ve found the man,” said Spectre to Mada.
 * “Maybe,” said Mada. “It will be up to the rest of the ruling council to decide that. I will call a meeting and you will have your chance to speak before them. Until then, you may stay here.”
 * “I could hardly impose on you and your family,” Selu said.
 * “Let me finish,” said Mada. “We have the room, but if you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to help out.”
 * “We would be happy to,” said Spectre.
 * “Then it’s settled,” said Mada. “Daara will show you to the guest room.”
 * “Thank you,” said Selu. “Does she live here?”
 * “For now, yes,” said Mada. “Her parents were killed by the Empire and my wife Krynan and I took her in as a child. You might say she’s my adopted daughter. With her being Force-strong, we wanted to give her a good family life. I’ve trained her in our ways, and she is a competent warrior, even if she is headstrong.”
 * “I see,” Selu replied as Daara entered the room again. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

They turned and followed Daara through a hallway into a guest room. A single stone bed occupied most of the room and a stone counter with a basin of water stretched along the left wall. A single glowpanel was attached to the side of the room, and a shelf hanging from the wall and now holding their weapons completed the room’s furniture. The room was cut out of the same stone as the main room, with low ceilings and uneven edges, but Selu and Spectre didn’t mind.
 * “You’ll be staying here. Fight over the bed, but without weapons, please. Refresher is down the hall,” she said briskly. “The only running water is there, but it doesn’t always work.”
 * “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop,” said Spectre to Daara abruptly.
 * “What?”
 * “Our weapons are already here. You must have heard Master Mada say that we were staying in here.”
 * “Uh . . .”
 * “Drop it, Spectre,” said Selu sternly, turning towards the ex-trooper. “This is her house and we are under their hospitality, so don’t push it. My apologies, Daara.”
 * “He’s right, anyway,” she said lightly to Selu. “Hey, are you bleeding?”
 * “It’s just a scratch,” Selu said. “A little tussle with some voorcats. Spectre patched it up this morning.”
 * “Mmm, looks like you tore it open while you were fighting,” Daara said. “There’s fresh blood on your tunic.”
 * “I didn’t even notice. Remind me never to trust your field medicine again,” Selu said to Spectre, half-jokingly.
 * “If you don’t mind, I think I might take a walk around outside the village,” said Spectre to Daara.
 * “Go ahead. Just don’t get in anyone’s way. I wouldn’t tell everyone that you’re a Jedi-we’re not all as nice as Papa.”
 * “I won’t,” Spectre assured her. “I just want some fresh air and a look around. I’ll find my own way out.”
 * “Okay. Oh, and don’t try to leave the Ayarolla. Someone will think you’re an Imperial and disc you.”
 * “Is that the village’s name?” Selu asked as Spectre nodded and headed out.
 * “Pretty much. Now sit down and let me look at that shoulder before you bleed everywhere.”

Daara walked out of the room only to return with what Selu assumed was a medpac. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he winced as she peeled back the blood-soaked parts of his tunic which had clung to his body. Dipping a cloth into the basin of water, she began washing the cuts. Now that he was conscious of them, the slashes burned like fire, but Selu stifled the pain with a Jedi technique.
 * “These are pretty deep,” she said. “I’ll have to suture these up.”
 * “Go ahead,” said Selu.
 * “Fine, but I don’t have much in the way of painkillers. Here, chew this, but don’t swallow.”

She handed Selu a piece of some sort of root and stuck it in his mouth. It quickly softened into some sort of paste that had a relaxing taste to it. Even the odor, though a bit strong, had a musky essence to it that calmed his nerves some. Bracing his hand against the bed’s frame, he gripped it firmly as Daara used the ancient autostitcher to close three of the wounds.
 * “Oops, it broke,” she said as she finished the third one.
 * “Can you fix it?” he asked.
 * “Papa knows how, but I’ll have to finish this last one up now by hand. Voorcat slashes can get infected if they’re left open.”
 * “That’s fine,” Selu said.

After she finished the rather painful process of using a needle and thread and applied a sizable spray bandage, she began packing up the medpac.
 * “Oh, and spit that into the rubbish,” she said.

Selu complied, expectorating the paste into a small pail used for trash.
 * “What was that anyway?”
 * “Spiced quaydll dung,” she said.

He made a face.
 * “Tell me you’re joking.”
 * “No. You didn’t swallow any of it, did you?”
 * “No, but I think I might need some water.”

Daara smiled, but brought him a sizable metal tumbler of water for him to rinse his mouth out with.
 * “Much appreciated,” he said. “And thanks for the medicine.”

She shrugged.
 * “You did save my life. It’s the least I can do.”
 * “Tell me,” Selu said. “Do you believe me? All those things I told your father?”
 * “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot of bad things about Jedi over the years.”
 * “I didn’t ask that,” he said. “I asked if you believed me.”
 * “I don’t know,” she answered eventually. “But I’d like to.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Selu to contemplate what exactly he’d gotten himself into. Mada had only agreed to listen to him because he had saved Daara, but now his mission had been complicated with the revelation of the heir of Revan business. He ran his hand through his hair and rinsed his mouth again to get that taste out. Yanibar wasn’t at all what he expected and persuading the Zeison Sha was going to take nothing less than a miracle to pull off. Well, he was here now. All he could do was make the best of the situation.

His mind wandered to the others and he wondered how Sarth and Cassi were doing with the Jal Shey. Probably better than him. Sarth could talk sense to an Aqualish and Cassi could charm a Kowakian monkey-lizard. They’d do their part, and they’d do it well. Selu thought about how Milya was doing on the lawless world of Darlyn Boda. He told himself that his concern was platonic and in the interest of the missions, but he didn’t entirely believe that. With Spectre’s also expressing attraction, Selu wasn’t sure what to do. Revan had implied it was his destiny to be alone and if he was actually the Zeison Sha’s heir of Revan, then that was the path he should take. He eventually fell asleep on the bed dreaming of Milya’s face, her dark auburn hair and her almond-shaped brown eyes vivid in his mind with the holographic clarity of all his memories. When Spectre returned, Selu was smiling in his sleep.

For his part, Spectre stretched out on the floor when he was ready for sleep, after removing his armor. He also wondered about how the others were doing and how they would accomplish their mission, but he was also somewhat annoyed at Selu. His friend had been irritable since they had arrived on Yanibar-disguising it with a façade of humor, but it had been there all the same. However, his mind also soon drifted to Milya and his feelings for her, emotions that he had never held for anyone else. He missed her already, but sleep mercifully claimed him before too long.