Second Chance/Part 14

"Some pockets of Sith troops are left, General," Captain Ezdel was saying to Mali. "A few are fighting it out, but we expect most are going to surrender."

"Well, all the Darths left them here to die, so I can see how that might undermine morale," the Corellian replied. "Go get 'em, Captain. Keep me informed."

"Yes sir."

Tirien raised an eyebrow as Mali turned to face him. "You're getting good at this, General."

Mali rolled his eyes. "Don't start with me, Kal-Di."

Tirien rocked with one silent laugh, then looked past Mali. "How are you feeling, Aldayr?"

The younger Human waved what remained of his right arm from the gurney on which he lay; Vargh's lightsaber had cut cleanly through the middle of his biceps. "Well, the painkillers help," he said with an attempt at a smile. Then it faltered, and his face fell. "I thought we could take them, but we were so outmatched."

He looked up at Mali shamefacedly. "I'm sorry I let you down, Master."

"You didn't," Mali assured him. "You fought bravely, even though it was a losing fight. Just learn from this experience and keep training."

"I will."

"Besides, look on the bright side," Mali added with a grin, clapping Aldayr on his good shoulder. "Only fifteen and you've already passed your Trial of the Flesh. Just four more to go!"

The two Humans shared a laugh, and Tirien envied their easy dynamic. He wondered if it would come in time.

Aldayr looked at him as his chuckles subsided. "Thank you, Master Kal-Di," he said sincerely. "Thanks for saving us."

Tirien waved it off. "You don't have to thank me, Aldayr."

Mali looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Aldayr, go check in with Intelligence. Make sure none of these last pockets have anyone with a lightsaber."

"Yes, Master."

When he was gone, Mali turned to Tirien. "Well, I have to thank you. Thank you for my Padawan's life, Tirien."

Tirien shook his head. "I still think it was the right thing to do, but I'm sorry I couldn't get to you in time to help with Vandak and Alecto."

Mali shrugged, patting the bandages on his chest. "Ahh, at least I've got a scar of my own to go with Aldayr's. Besides, they're Sith Lords; they keep giving us chances.  And I guess you called it right—shield generators held, I survived, and you saved them."

His easy smile was a sharp contrast to their intense debate a day before, torn between danger zones and undecided who should go where, but Tirien didn't begrudge him that; the Jedi needed men like both of them. "I couldn't have done it without Master Cazars."

"And I'm not sure even she could've done it without you," Mali answered, then looked past Tirien's shoulder. "Ah, speak of the Twi'lek."

Tirien glanced behind him and saw Master Cazars approaching with Narasi. Before they got close, Captain Ezdel came back in. "General Darakhan? I'm sorry, sir, but we've got a squad of Sith troopers holed up in a bank threatening to kill a bunch of civilians if we move on their location."

"Oh, I think I can change their minds," Mali said, taking his Jedi Credit from his pocket and flipping it to himself. Turning back, he extended a hand, and they clasped forearms. "You're a good Knight, Tirien. I hope we serve together again."

"And you, Mali. May the Force be with you."

"And also with you."

He was gone a moment later, off to save the day again, and Tirien turned to the other Jedi with a bow. "Master."

"Tirien." She watched as Narasi came to Tirien's side, then fixed him with her gold eyes. "We've got reliable HoloNet and beacon access again, so I've just conferred with the Council. We have work for you offworld."

"You don't want us to help with the cleanup?"

She waved a hand. "Most the danger now is from refugee overcrowding, not the Sith. Mali and See are enough.  And Admiral Ok-Majan has proven quite resourceful."

"He's not Admiral Arstyn."

"He's not," she allowed, "but we have to work with what we have. A Jedi doesn't dwell on the past, but plans for the future."

"Yes, Master," Tirien agreed.

"Speaking of the future," she added, looking at Narasi again, "Master Tem-Fol-Rytil reminded me that we promised you we would…reconsider after time. This battle has demanded our full attention, but there's time for Council business now.  I've spoken with Narasi for her views, but if you maintain your belief that this assignment is contrary to the will of the Force…?"

Her inflection made it a question as she trailed off. Tirien looked down at Narasi; she kept her face decently impassive, but her big blue eyes spoke volumes. He envisioned the utter absence of solitude for a decade or more, having to adapt every mission to include a lesson or protection against threats he himself could handle without an instant's hesitation.

He looked at Elata. "The Force…I think it's too big for any Jedi to say with certainty what the future will be, Master, or exactly how to make it play out. Maybe the Seers saw that I needed Narasi so she could save me from the snipers a few days ago.  I don't know what the will of the Force is here.  But to the extent that the Council is open to considering my will…if the Masters are amenable, I'd rather keep things as they are."

Looking at his apprentice, he added, "I do believe the Force wills Narasi to be a great Jedi Knight. I hope I can help her become that Jedi."

She smiled. Tirien looked at Elata Cazars, who nodded. "Then your desires align. And your first mission is to Ilum.  May the Force be with you."

They followed her out, crossing the temporary Army camp to the spaceport. Their freighter had been untouched since their flight from Gizer Battlestation, and Tirien brushed dust off the access panel before lowering the ramp.

As they came aboard, Narasi dropped off her bag on her bunk, but Tirien took his with him to the cockpit, going through the system warmups and thinking hard. He was holding the bag in his lap when Narasi joined him and sat in the copilot's seat.

"Master?" she asked.

Tirien looked up at her, setting the bag down. "A Jedi shouldn't be without a lightsaber, not for any length of time. This war's too dangerous, Narasi."

She frowned. "Master Cazars said it can happen, a Sith blade breaking a Jedi's. That's why we're going to Ilum, right?"

Tirien opened the big, rummaging past his spare clothing and handful of supplies. "It is. But a lightsaber takes time to make."

"I built one already, I remember how. If I hurry—"

"No," he said firmly. "A lightsaber should last you the rest of your life; it's not a project to be rushed, but one for the utmost care and respect. You'll just need something to tide you over."

He drew it out and handed it to her. Narasi took the old weapon, puzzled. It was overlarge for her hands, but she shifted her grip to accommodate, pointing it down the access corridor before igniting the blade. It bathed her in its light as she turned it this way and that.

"Yellow," she said softly. "The blade of a Jedi Sentinel."

She closed it down and looked at him, mouth moving soundlessly; no words came out, but her face said everything.

Tirien nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "It saved my life once in my control, and who knows how many times in Suwo's. It should carry you through until you have one of your own."

She leaned toward him, but he turned his seat to face the controls, flipping the comm on as Narasi sat back. She clipped the lightsaber to her belt.

"Republic Ground Command, this is freighter GX-521-A3—Kal-Di and Rican. Requesting departure clearance."

"You're good to go, Master Jedi. May the Force be with you."

As Tirien lifted the ship off the ground and guided it toward the sky, Narasi said, "You know, Master, we really have to stop calling it that."

Tirien rolled his eyes. "This again?"

"It's our ship," she insisted. "Master Cazars even said so. It needs a name."

"All right, Padawan, bestow on me your wisdom," he said dryly. The ship breached the atmosphere. "What are you suggesting?"

She took a deep breath as the fire outside the viewport faded to the stars and the protective shield of the Republic Navy. "I think we should…name it for us."

Tirien laughed as the navicomputer ran the calculations. "Narasi, I won't say I'm never a victim of pride, but even I'm not Corellian enough to fly around in a ship called the Tirien and Narasi."

She laughed too, but then rotated her chair to face him again. As he laid his hand on the hyperdrive lever, Narasi took it too, and he looked her way.

"No," she agreed as they guided it forward, "the Second Chance."