A Certain Point of View/Part 11

Narasi had long since gotten used to the weight of her utility belt, and even her lightsaber, the heaviest thing on it, had become part of herself; she felt naked when she wasn't wearing her gear. Today, though, she felt like she had added another ten kilos to her equipment—right in the pouch with her comlink.

Tirien noticed her abstraction, of course, but he said only, "It will be what it will be, Narasi. If Dorje listens to us or if he doesn't, we have to trust in the Force."

"Yes, Master," she replied dutifully as the turbolift doors opened.

They approached the apartment, but this time it was Narasi who stopped, channeling the Force to reach out to that familiar little Force signature. She sensed his burst of excitement, and Tirien chuckled at her side.

"What?" she asked.

"He said, 'Daddy, it's more Jedi!' We'll work on amplifying senses soon." He glanced at her, then back at the door, and his expression darkened. "And Dorje sounds as thrilled by that prospect as I expected…"

Narasi wondered if Dorje would leave them standing in the hallway forever—if he had said no to Tirien the Pantoran Hero, it probably wouldn't matter if Master Tem-Fol-Rytil himself came out here—but eventually courtesy won out. Ayson was wearing green and purple pajamas, and he hopped up and down excitedly when he saw them. "Daddy! It's Tirien and…and…!"

He looked at her, and Narasi smiled despite herself. "Narasi."

"Yeah!"

Dorje Sokos stood over his son, his face hard. "I see that. Go inside, Ayson."

"Yeah! I gotta get my laser sword!"

"No, Ayson, that's not what I—" But Ayson had already raced off down the hallway and out of sight. Dorje opened the door, but blocked the doorframe. "Why are you here? I told you no."

"We're leaving Pantora today," Tirien said. "I wanted to see you both before we did."

"You've seen us. Fly safely."

He stepped back and touched the door plate, but Tirien raised a hand. He did not step forward, but the door did not close, either. Dorje eyed it warily.

"A few moments of your time, Dorje," Tirien said. "Please."

Ayson returned with a long plastic tube. Swinging it with both hands, he said, "See? I got my own laser sword!"

He hit a wall on a wide slash, and Dorje sighed. "I told you, Ayson, no laser swords in the apartment."

"I saw you!" Ayson told Tirien as he lowered his makeshift weapon. "You were on the screen!"

Tirien raised an eyebrow, and Dorje explained, "Your interviews outside have been run repeatedly." He paused, then, looking as if each word physically pained him, forced out, "Thank you for not discussing Ayson with them."

Tirien looked up. "You're not the only one who wants your son to be safe."

Dorje looked like he was biting back any number of choice comments. After a moment, though, he took Ayson's hand and towed him back. "Fine, then, come in."

They sat on the couch again, Ayson holding his 'lightsaber' by handle and blade; Narasi smiled to herself, reflecting that they'd have to break him of that habit if he came with.

"Say what you've come to say, Tirien," Dorje said.

"I'm sorry about your wife, Dorje."

Dorje flinched, and his hands squeezed into fists—with anger, Narasi thought, until she got a sense of the deep hurt inside. "Thank you. Perhaps you'll have the kindness to end that sentence there?" He studied Tirien and laughed bitterly. "No, I thought not."

Tirien's face was pensive. "Would that I could. I understand that you feel—"

"Do you?" Dorje interrupted. "Tell me, Tirien, what criminal animals killed your wife?"

"My master died right in front of me," Tirien replied gently. "The closest relationship I've ever had with anyone, and I watched him die not much farther away from me than you are now. We were fighting a Sith Lord together, but I wasn't…strong enough?  Fast enough?  Powerful enough?"

He shook his head. "Whatever I needed to be to save him, I wasn't."

Dorje grimaced. "And I'm sorry for that loss, but then you should understand all the more that we need to protect the people we love."

"I understand the draw of being here. Of holding tight to the things we know best and bringing the whole galaxy down to a single world…I see why it's appealing.  But it isn't real." Narasi and Tirien looked at each other; her master studied her a long moment before looking back. "And the protective part of me would like to send Narasi back to the Jedi Temple, where she could train and grow to full adulthood in safety, but I can't. Not because the Republic and the Jedi need someone with her skills and courage, although Force knows we do, but because it would limit her—make her less than what she can be.  To protect her I'd smother all the incredible potential she has.  A ship in a hangar is safe, but that's not what ships are for."

Dorje clenched his jaw. "I have lost enough already. Ayson has lost enough already.  Do not ask us to give up even more."

"I ask that you give your son the fullest life he can have," Tirien replied. "Yes, it will be hard. Dangerous.  In a war like this, all of us are in danger, all the time.  Here he might grow to old age in total safety, or Tarni Hadan might sweep down on Pantora and set the whole planet on fire.  With us he might be a Master on the High Council or fall in his first duel with a Sith.  I don't know your son's future, Dorje, or Narasi's, or mine.  None of us do.  All we can do is the best we can with what we're given.  And your son's been given a great gift—the ability to make a real difference."

"There are people alive today who wouldn't be if it weren't for me," Narasi added. "It's worth all the hard stuff for that."

"I wanna be a Jedi, Daddy," Ayson reminded his father.

Dorje looked at his son, chin trembling. "Ayson, we've been over this. Wouldn't you miss me?"

"Well, yeah," Ayson said, frowning. "But I'd come visit!"

Dorje speared Tirien with a look. "Would he? Go on, tell him."

Tirien opened his mouth, but Narasi laid a hand on his arm. "Master…could I talk to Mr. Sokos alone for a minute?"

Tirien looked completely surprised, but he did not dismiss her out of hand; instead he narrowed his eyes, his gaze becoming slightly unfocused. Narasi sensed him calling on the Force in a moment of deep meditation, and Ayson hopped out of his father's lap to watch, sensing it too. After a moment Tirien came back to himself; he still looked bemused, but turned an inquisitive gaze on Dorje.

The other man seemed baffled as well, but he met Narasi's eyes, and nodded once. Tirien rose without a word and stepped from the room; Narasi heard the front door open and close.

"Ayson, go play," Dorje said. Ayson walked out of the room, swishing his laser sword and making zwoom, zwoom noises.

Dorje watched him go, then looked at Narasi suspiciously. "Well? If you're going to try your telepathy on me, you'd better believe I love my son enough to resist your—"

"I remember my parents," Narasi whispered, and Dorje cut off at once. Reflecting on Tirien enhancing his senses, Narasi slid over to sit beside Dorje; he did not recoil from her. "I remember when my mom gave me up to the Jedi, and I knew I wasn't going to see them again. I was so scared, and so sad.  I thought they didn't love me anymore."

Dorje's shock hit her in the Force like a fist, but Narasi was committed now, and she plowed ahead before he could speak and give her a reason to stop. "I still miss them; I always will. And if I ever see my mom," she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice, "I'm going to hug her until my arms hurt.  Not just because she's my mom, but because she gave me up because she loved me—because it was the best life I could have had."

"When I first went to battle I was terrified, because yeah, I was only thirteen. But I've gotten stronger, because Tirien's been there to help me.  Because I have a master who cares about me—enough to protect me when I need it, but enough to let me get stronger on my own, too.  At the Temple as a kid, and with Tirien now…everything I am is because my masters helped me to be everything I can be.  I know that's what my mom wanted for me.  I think that's what you want for Ayson, too."

Dorje seemed unable to look away from her. "He's already lost his mother."

"He'll gain a whole new family," Narasi promised with a smile. "And we'll love him as one of our own."

"I've already lost my wife."

Without meaning to, Narasi touched the comlink on her belt. "Sometimes…" She took a deep breath. "Sometimes we have to bear burdens for the people we love…the ones we know they couldn't bear themselves. And it hurts, and we feel bad, and we doubt ourselves, and we'll wonder every day if we did the wrong thing, but…but we do it because we love them.  And we want what's best for them."

She wasn't sure what more she could get out without cracking, but as she tried to immerse herself in the Force for strength, she felt a clear sense of direction, a feeling deep from within to say no more. She waited, watching as Dorje Sokos put his face in his hands, and was stunned a few seconds later when he drew in a breath and let it out as a rattling sob.

He looked up. "You can't promise me he'll be safe."

"No," Narasi admitted. "But he'll be a Jedi."

Dorje pondered that for a long moment. "Tirien was right, in a way," he mused, and the look he gave Narasi surprised her; it was sad, but in a sympathetic way. "You're not a child anymore, are you?"

"No." She smiled faintly. "In a better world I might be, but that's not the world we have."

"No," Dorje agreed softly. "No, it isn't."

He leaned back, wiping his eyes with his hands, then got to his feet. Narasi followed him to the front door in surprise. They stepped into the hall to find Tirien powering down his imagecaster and disconnecting his comlink from it. He looked from each of them to the other.

"There are so many things that the Republic does that are wrong," Dorje said. "Children set aside their innocence to become soldiers. Children see battle grown men couldn't handle."

Tirien said nothing, and Dorje sighed. "But I suppose if it's between facing danger head-on and waiting to see if it finds you…there's honor in the former. Hera was that way," he said wistfully. "Even with all the problems in the sector, she never once considered grounding herself here. I hope…I hope Ayson is as brave as she was."

He looked at Tirien. "Give me a few minutes with him, won't you? Time to get his things together, to…to say…"

He choked on the word, but Tirien crossed the hall and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, take your time. We'll wait for you downstairs."

Dorje nodded wordlessly and stepped back into the apartment. Narasi followed Tirien into the turbolift. He waited until the door closed to speak.

"What did…?" he started, but he trailed off at the look on her face.

"Please don't," Narasi asked him quietly. "Please."

Tirien nodded slowly. "That was Chairman Korfadda on the comm."

Taking a breath to recenter herself, Narasi asked, "How did he take it?"

"Not overwhelmingly well," Tirien admitted. "I'm sure it took a lot for him to make an offer like that, and it offended him to have me reject it. But I told him—honestly—that what I can do for Pantora as a Jedi, I will."

"That's fair," Narasi reasoned.

Tirien smirked. "I'm thrilled you approve."

Narasi snickered and nudged Tirien playfully with one elbow. They waited in the lobby, and the desk attendant asked Tirien for his autograph again. Tirien opened his mouth, but Narasi gave him a look and mouthed They need heroes. The look he gave her was as dry as Tatooine, but he finally sighed and scrawled his signature on a durasheet.

After a few moments a clamor started outside, and Narasi went to peek through the glass wall. "Uh, Master…the media's here again."

"You're on the news, Master Kal-Di!" the attendant added helpfully, cranking up the volume.

They all turned to watch a Pantoran newscaster. "—a source close to the Chairman's Office, Jedi Knight Tirien Kal-Di is departing Pantora from an apartment building on Zidela Avenue. Though he's only been onworld for two days, Kal-Di's presence has been—"

"I think I've got the gist," Tirien called loudly enough to be heard, and the attendant turned the volume back down. Tirien shook his head. "Samaya."

"Hoping the hero treatment will change your mind?" Narasi suggested.

"Probably."

"So what are we gonna do?" she asked. "I could sneak Ayson out the back way and meet you at the Second Chance."

"No," Tirien decided. "We're going to hit this head-on. Both of us."

That was a pleasant surprise. "Not everybody's gonna be happy with you being with a Zygerrian."

"Yes, the Chairman mentioned something about bad optics. They'll live," Tirien said dismissively. "Every success I've had here has been because of you—this mission is your success. Come on."

Narasi followed him out the front entrance, feeling like she was flying. The reporters surged forward, but Tirien raised his hands, and after a few moments of questions piling up on one another and Tirien's stoic silence, they eventually quieted down. He gave it a moment for a few stragglers to run out of speeders that peeled up to the curb at breakneck speed, and in that time Narasi felt him in altus sopor. Then, when the sidewalk was crammed from door to street, he spoke.

"I'm not going to take any questions," he started, and let them complain until they ran out of steam. "But I am going to make a statement."

The silence that followed this pronouncement was profound, and Narasi stared at the sea of lenses, lights, and rapt faces. Tirien took a deep breath. "My name is Tirien Kal-Di. I'm a son of Pantora, born in Azreigia, and I'm a Jedi—a Knight of the Galactic Republic.  This is my Padawan apprentice, Narasi Rican."

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and for a few seconds all the cameras focused on her. Narasi drew herself up, wishing belatedly she had combed out her hair more. Then Tirien drew their attention back. "When I was five, I left Pantora to become a Jedi. This has been my first time home since, and I don't know when I'll be back again.  Before I leave, there are things I need to tell Pantora's people—my people."

"To those of you who welcomed or aided Narasi or me, thank you—from us, and from the Jedi Order. To those of you who fear what the Sith will do—to our homeworld, our people, our galaxy—I may not be here with you, but know that I will oppose their evil and do everything in my power to wipe them out of the galaxy, from this day until the day I die.  And know that fear empowers our enemies—Sith, slavers, and pirates alike, all those who prey on those weaker than themselves are made stronger by the fear of their victims."

"But we are not a race of victims," Tirien told his audience. "We're Pantorans. Our ancestors built this society to last.  Whether united with others or standing alone, Pantora will always be strong because of its people.  Remember that strength.  Choose the hard right over the easy wrong, and don't let complacency take you away from what you know must be done.  Protect Pantora.  As much as you can, protect others as well.  Narasi and I and all our fellow Jedi will protect the galaxy at large, and one day, the Sith will find there are no people left to be victims, and no one left to fear them.  And they will fall."

"Be strong—be Pantora. May the Force be with you all."

Shouted questions and pleas for further comment chased them back into the building. The automatic door sealed behind them, and Tirien waved a hand at it; Narasi heard the subdued clunk of automated locks engaging, and the reporters who had pursued them braked at the last moment to avoid slamming into the transparisteel. Tirien's mouth twitched as he looked at the attendant. "Keep them out for a few minutes, won't you?"

"You got it, sir!" the young man pledged. He pointed to the screen, where Narasi now saw Tirien's face. "Good speech!"

"I didn't know you had it in you, Master," Narasi whispered as they walked back to the lifts.

"Jedi Consular," he reminded her. "Sometimes the right words can do more good than a resident Jedi Knight with a lightsaber."

Narasi was considering that when the turbolift opened, and Dorje and Ayson Sokos walked out hand-in-hand. Ayson held his toy lightsaber in his free hand; he had traded his pajamas for sturdy slacks, little boots, and a sweater, and wore a backpack and an ecstatic look. The Sokos clan marks were freshly painted on his cheeks. Dorje, by contrast, looked as if his world was falling to pieces and he was barely holding himself together.

"You were on the screen again!" Ayson enthused. "I saw you!"

Narasi watched her master and Dorje exchange a look she couldn't quite understand; they were both too stoic to convey much, but Tirien nodded, and after a moment Dorje did too. He knelt at Ayson's side and said, "You're going out into the galaxy, Ayson. An adventure in space, just like Mommy.  Be brave like her."

"I will, Daddy!" Ayson promised, then hugged Dorje. Only when Ayson had broken loose and turned away did Dorje wipe his eyes. "I'm ready to be a Jedi now!"

"Sometimes it will be hard," Tirien cautioned. "You'll have to work hard every day. Will you do that?"

"Yep!"

"Remember where you come from, Ayson," Dorje added thickly. "You and Tirien are the only Pantorans in the whole Jedi Order. Be a good example of our people."

"I will, Daddy."

Tirien extended a hand for Ayson, but Narasi held up hers. "Master, wait."

Dorje closed his eyes, and Narasi sensed him struggling, on the edge of cracking. Tirien frowned, but Narasi said, "Ayson, give your dad another hug before we go."

"Another one?!" Ayson exclaimed.

Narasi knelt down next to him. She looked up at Tirien, then back. "I didn't give my dad a hug before I left to be a Jedi," she said quietly. "I wish I had."

Ayson sighed, but then smiled and ran back into Dorje's arms. Dorje embraced his son tightly, tears pooling in his eyes. Tirien stepped to Narasi's side and laid a hand on her shoulder; he said nothing, and Narasi appreciated it as she squeezed his hand a moment before letting go. When Ayson and Dorje parted, Narasi turned and let him climb up on her shoulders, wrapping his little arms around her neck. "Ready, buddy?"

"Ready!"

"May the Force be with you all," Dorje whispered behind them.

The media were now audible even through the front doors, clamoring for the attendant to let them in, so Narasi led Tirien out the side door she had discovered, and they managed to flag down a taxi before anyone noticed them. By the time she sensed faint, distant recognition, the droid was already driving.

They beat the reporters to the spaceport, and Tirien moved with purpose to reach the Second Chance ' s docking bay. "I'll take care of our clearances," he told Narasi. "Get Ayson aboard and get her warmed up."

"On it," Narasi pledged.

"Is this our ship?!" Ayson gasped as Narasi keyed in the code to drop the ramp.

"Yep. My master and I go all over the galaxy in it."

"Wow!"

Everything on the way to the cockpit was a new revelation, which was kind of a relief, because every step brought Narasi closer to what she needed to do, and she could feel dread squeezing her chest. She started the flight sequence, then deposited Ayson in her own co-pilot's chair. "Can you be a good boy and wait here while I go take care of something?"

"Okay!" He leaned toward the control console; Narasi took one look and strapped him in with crash webbing before she headed to the ship's living section. Once she was sure she was out of earshot, she took several calming breaths, trying to still her hammering heart. Then she lifted the agonizingly heavy comlink from her belt.

"Narasi!" Rylar answered seconds after her signal. "Hey, we saw Tirien's press conference. We're on our way to the spaceport now, but traffic's a little backed up.  We'll be…twenty minutes, maybe?"

Narasi squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not gonna work out, Rylar."

"What? No, don't worry, we won't make a big scene or anything."

"It's not that," Narasi said.

"Does he not want to see us?" Rylar pressed. There was a long pause while Narasi struggled for an answer, but Rylar found more words before she did. She recognized Tirien's tone of cold judgment as he asked, "You didn't even ask him, did you?"

"It…wouldn't be what's best for him."

"And who the hell are you to…no, I'm not going to just…my brother too…"

Narasi frowned at the comlink, but after a few seconds Zina's voice came over. "You don't think we deserve a say in that, Narasi?"

"Please trust me," Narasi pleaded. "I know him…"

She trailed off, realizing where the words were going, but Zina finished the sentence. "—better than we do," she said, her voice soft and cool. "And better than we ever will."

The comm went silent and the channel cut off.