Grim Tidings/Part 1

1,386 BBY (Day 113 of the Occupation of Milagro)

Yan Razam walked into the Crescentia ' s hangar bay just in time to see Narasi Rican shoot Tirien Kal-Di in the chest.

The blaster bolt caught him high on the sternum and Tirien went down like a bag of rocks. Yan's fingers had closed around the hilt of her lightsaber before the rest of the scene caught up with her—the ring of onlookers moaning in sympathy but making no move to intervene, the handful of techs going about their business and stealing glances, and Narasi cocking her arm back to hold the blaster beside her head while her lips twisted into an expression between regret and resignation. By the time Yan got herself back under control and started forward, Tirien had already sat up and pitched forward onto one knee.

Narasi sighed. "Again, Master?"

Yan's Arcona eyes weren't good enough to really gauge Tirien from this distance, but her iskra—the small, diamond-shaped sensory organ between her bulbous green eyes—saw the differences in Tirien's usual heat patterns, the spots on his torso that were superheated like the one at the top of his sternum. They were all exposed to the air without any cloth to obstruct their heat signatures—was Tirien practicing shirtless? As he got his feet under him and struggled up, Yan commented, "You know, Narasi, the Burning works best if you ask real questions between shots."

Narasi and a few of the watching Jedi snickered. The blur of shape, the sharply defined lines of heat, the unique scent on her tongue, and the aura of power in the Force that came together in Yan's mind to mean Tirien Kal-Di finally stood again. He rubbed the back of his head, but nodded. "Again."

"Are you just bored, or…?"

Narasi laughed again as Tirien said, "I'm practicing deflections."

"Lightsaber works better when it's on, Tirien," Yan advised.

"I'll see if I can show you."

"You know what they say about trying, Master!" Narasi chirped.

"…I'll show you."

"That's the spirit!" Narasi nestled the forearm of her shooting hand into the back crook of her other wrist, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger.

Yan's iskra caught the flare of heat that was the blaster bolt at the same time she sensed a surge in the Force. Tirien raised a hand as if to catch the bolt…and it curved away from him. Not far—in fact, Yan thought he twitched his head to one side out of its new trajectory—but it still singed the metal bulkhead far behind him.

Yan's mouth dropped open in awe, and by the time she managed to close it she realized the other Jedi were applauding; she thought a few passed credits to each other, too. Slapping her clawed hands together a few times, she shook her anvil-shaped head and asked, "How did he do that?"

"We've been practicing," Narasi said.

"Yeah, I figured that out for myself, but—"

"It's the Force," Tirien called. He wasn't as flushed with victory as Yan would've been if she could've pulled off a feat like that; instead, he sounded like he had just run a dozen laps around the hangar bay. "Force deflection. When you think about it…it's really just…a lesser form of tutaminis."

Yan thought Tirien deflecting blaster bolts with nothing but the Force was "a lesser form of tutaminis" in the same way that walking around on a broken leg without pain was "a lesser form of curato salva", but she wasn't about to argue with a Jedi Knight who was making himself blasterproof. Instead, she took a spot in the circle of onlookers, noticing for the first time how both her fellow Jedi and the other techs were leaving the space behind Tirien clear. She felt the Pantoran centering himself in the Force, then he called for Narasi again.

The first shot he deflected, and by a wider margin this time. The second time he failed and Narasi's shot hit him in the gut; he doubled over, whatever sound he was making drowned out by the groans of sympathy all around him. When he got up Narasi fired again, and this time the blaster bolt seemed to bounce off Tirien's hand and reflect back the way it had come; Narasi had to throw herself to the floor to get out of its path, and the Jedi behind her scattered.

"I did not intend that," Tirien swore, and Yan sensed he was as stunned as everyone else.

"Yeah, I was gonna say…" Narasi grumbled as she dusted herself off. "This was your idea…"

The fourth shot was something none of them were prepared for. Narasi fired and the bolt lanced toward Tirien…then seemed to brake in midair. Yan saw the packet of condensed gas and heat wobbling in the air like a lightsaber blade detached from its hilt. Jedi on all sides gasped; Yan might've been one. Tirien hadn't stopped the bolt—it was still jerking toward him in fits and starts—but he seemed to have gotten a mental hand on it, like the Force was clinging to the tail of the bolt to slow it down as it struggled to get free.

The surprise filled the Force, and after a second Tirien realized what he had done. The bolt lurched forward and the Force surged, but pure astonishment had broken his concentration, and the blaster bolt slipped his grip and struck him in the forehead. He went down on his back with his arms splayed, and Narasi led the pack of Jedi that rushed to his aid.

"Master! Are you okay?!"

Tirien groaned and rubbed his forehead; Yan and the Klatooinian Knight Drekk Nogg grabbed Tirien's arms and hoisted him to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, but found his footing. "That was…unpleasant."

"I'll bet it was!" Narasi fumed. Stepping up to him, she stood on her tiptoes to even their heights. "Geez, it's like your tattoo was a bullseye…"

Tirien touched the spot and winced. "I hope it didn't burn out the ink. I'd hate to have to redo it."

"I hope you don't have a concussion!"

The Pantoran rubbed the back of his head and grunted. "I think it's best we be done for today."

"You think?" Narasi crossed her arms, the blaster still in her hand and pointing off to one side. "This has to be the dumbest thing you've ever talked me into, Master."

"Aren't you forgetting Darkknell? That Sacred Way preacher, the accelerant, and that pod of mud limpets you—"

"Oookay," Narasi rushed to cut him off. "Yeah, fine, the second dumbest thing."

Tirien chuckled and touched his forehead again. "There's really no other way to practice; meditation can only get me so far."

"That was incredible, Tirien," Yan said. Drekk grunted in agreement, and a few other Jedi made similar sounds.

"I didn't intend that—to freeze it like that. I didn't even know that was possible."

"Well, if somebody's going to get innovative with the Force, it's you," Drekk said. "You or Slejux."

"Is he back yet?" Tirien asked, taking the tunic Narasi handed him while the crowd started to dissipate.

Yan shook her head. "Haven't seen him. And my squadron's been flying escorts almost every day."

"Any sign of Lakalt?" Narasi asked.

"No, but we've sent out probe droids. He has to be around here somewhere."

The young Zygerrian growled. "Where are we, even?"

"Uh…" Yan tapped the datapad on her wrist comlink. It rendered an image that would be a blurry mess for Human eyes, but which her Arcona eyes deciphered into text. "The Ado Spine, apparently."

"Why don't we just hit Sullust and be done with it?"

Yan glanced at Tirien; he shook his head, and so she said, "Just because he's in bad shape doesn't mean his capital's unguarded. We don't want to pick a fight we can't win."

"And intelligence reports say Lakalt really is fleeing," Tirien added as he buckled his belt over his tunic. "If we turn back toward Sullust, we could give him breathing room to recover."

"Pressure's on," Yan agreed. "We don't want to let up right before he cracks."

Narasi nodded, and Yan asked, "You wanna come up with us when we finally get him cornered?"

Yan sensed the flash of excitement in the Force as Narasi looked at Tirien. "Can we?"

"Flying fighters isn't like flying the Second Chance," he warned her. "You're much less protected. And before you even ask, we are not taking the Second Chance into a dogfight."

"He's right about that," Yan said. "You two have a decent ship for running around, but in our world it'd be a big ol' target."

"Well, all the more reason to practice with fighters! I know I can do it."

"Our chance to defeat Zirist Lakalt is not the time for practice."

Narasi groaned, and Yan said, "I could take her up on a training run? Gotta start somewhere."

Yan's iskra showed her the contour lines of Tirien's face as his eyes narrowed, but he settled for, "We'll see."

Narasi made that growling sound in the back of her throat again, but she didn't argue. Instead, she asked, "So what now?"

Tirien looked at Yan. "When's your next patrol, Yan?"

"Unless somebody calls battle assembly, I have a couple hours. Why?"

"How's your Form IV?"

She was several centimeters taller than him, and she made a point of looming over him as she answered, "Not as good as my Form V. Passable, though; better than anything else I've got outside a cockpit."

"Would you spar with my Padawan while I try some curato salva?"

Yan nodded. "Sure. Want to go reserve us a training room, Narasi?"

"Sure." She bowed to Tirien, but then pointed a finger at him. "Don't have anybody else shoot you just because I'm gone, Master."

"Goodbye, Narasi."

She went, and Yan chuckled. "She's feisty today."

"Being back so close to the battles has her keyed up. Another reason I'd hoped you could work with her, but we'll have to meditate later, too."

Yan thought about the battles and lowered her voice to ask, "They did brief you on the Eriadu plan when you got back, right?"

"The one where we push Lakalt into fleeing, then hook back to Eriadu to bait him into pursuing us rather than leaving Sullust exposed?"

"Yeah. You haven't told Narasi?"

"No, because I think it's a bad plan, and I'm hoping the Council will rethink it."

Yan crossed her arms. "You know Admiral Whoork and all the senior commanders were in on the decision, right?"

"I didn't, but I assumed, and confirmation doesn't change my assessment. Lakalt's shown for months that he won't stand and fight when he thinks he'll lose; this whole plan depends on pride overwhelming self-preservation, and I think Lakalt is smarter than that."

"So he doesn't resist; so much the better for us."

"Unless we get bogged down or attritted at Eriadu and Sullust and can't respond. Lakalt could sweep back up the Rimma or the Hydian; if we're very unfortunate, he could take Pax and Arrgaw and cut off our route to reinforce Mali at Milagro."

Yan hadn't thought about it that way, and a hint of doubt troubled her, but she shrugged it off. "The command team's smart, they must've thought of that. We'd take a risk chasing Lakalt off into the Unknown Regions too; they probably thought this was the smarter risk to take."

"Maybe." Tirien was too disciplined for any doubt to leak out of his mind, but the tautness in his voice got Yan to the same end.

"We have to take a risk somewhere; we can't stay at a stalemate forever."

"No," Tirien admitted. "No we can't."

"Just because we can't always see where we're going doesn't make risks a bad thing," Yan needled.

The Pantoran snorted and rubbed the back of his head. "Go take one and fight my Padawan, Yan."

The Arcona hissed a laugh and started away, but turned back to point a claw across the hangar bay at what, to her eyes, was a kaleidoscope of Republic red and metal gray at this distance. "You better not've deflected anything into my fighters, Tirien, or you're next when I'm done with Narasi!"

She found Narasi warming up in a sparring room in the Crescentia ' s port wing; the Zygerrian threw herself into a diving roll, popped up into a forward hand spring, then touched down and hurled herself sideways into a butterfly twist. She got the rotation well enough, but she clearly hadn't bled off all her forward momentum, and when she landed she staggered and fell. She managed to turn it into a backwards roll onto her feet again.

"Work in progress?" Yan asked as she rolled her shoulders to loosen them up.

Narasi looked sheepish. "Yeah. I used to love all the jumping and rolling around at the Temple, but something about incorporating it into lightsaber combat just feels…awkward."

Yan snickered. "Could it be that your master cuts you out of the air every time you try?"

Narasi made a face. "He told you that?"

"No, but Makashi stylists are famous for it," Yan replied as she took the lightsaber hilt from her belt and dialed up the blade shielding. "And he's good."

"Well, General Seldec was good too, wasn't he?" Narasi asked. "But Kenza killed him."

Yan rasped a laugh. "Don't take this the wrong way, kid, 'cause they tell me you're pretty damn good for your age, but I don't think you're quite Kenza Rowkwani just yet."

Narasi laughed too as she set her lightsaber to a training power level, bowed, and ignited her blue blade. "Ready?"

"Let's do it."

Yan Razam had never been one for all the acrobatics of Ataru either—not because she couldn't execute them properly, but because her height made them impractical. Springing around like a Duroonian bouncebeast was all well and good for little Jedi like Master Sarno, but for a full-grown Arcona it was almost comical. Instead, when forced into Form IV by circumstance or request from blaster-burned Pantorans, Yan preferred to keep her feet on the ground and use the spins and whirling slashes for which Ataru was also famous. She could tell at once that Narasi was much the same; the young woman strung together good spinning combinations and met Yan's attacks with twisting counterstrikes, but when she went into gymnastics it threw off her rhythm; three times Yan could've landed a killing strike if she'd been using Form V.

Yan swung a whirling mid-level slash; Narasi ducked into a roll under it, but Yan spun around into a vertical cut before Narasi had regained her feet. The Zygerrian had the reflexes to catch the blow overhead on one knee, but her arms trembled from the strain of holding the blow in check. She tried to push up, but without both feet under her she couldn't bring all her strength to bear. Eventually she thrust her blade forward instead as she drove her heel into the ground; as Yan's strike went forward, Narasi fell back into an ungainly roll, scrambling to her feet and holding out her blade one-handed to ward off pursuit.

Chuckling, Yan said, "Not bad. You've got good reflexes."

"Now I just need the technique to go along with them."

Yan cocked her triangular head, glanced at the door, then looked back and smiled; a Human probably would've thought it a threatening expression, but an Arcona would've seen the mischief in it. "Tell you what—why don't you just come at me with whatever you think will work? I won't tell Tirien if you won't."

"So…just whatever technique? Any form?"

"Don't worry about the forms right now. Go with what works."

Yan's kaleidoscope vision showed her fifty grinning Narasis. "Let's do it!"

"Bring it, then."

Narasi brought it.

Yan had had a vague notion that she might keep using Form IV to show how it worked best; she was no Rowkwani either, but she had been known to use a whirling technique or two in her time to complement her Form V. That plan went right out the airlock in the first few exchanges, though. Narasi feinted a horizontal strike, checked it in the blink of an eye, and came back with a brutal slash from the other side; Yan blocked it, but the force of the blow almost drove her own blade back into her chest. She skipped back to recenter, but Narasi pursued her with a series of power blows to keep her on the defensive. Her technique wasn't perfect, but it was effective, and it took Yan a minute to edge her way back into the fight.

When she was giving as good as she got, though, Narasi retreated and switched to one hand. She was nothing like the Makashi terror her master was, but Tirien had clearly taught her well, and more than once Yan had to check an assault to keep her fingers or wrists from being singed. Yan almost landed a sai cha when Narasi tried a lunge for her chest, but Narasi did a ducking roll under it. She came up one-handed to fend off Yan's follow-up charge, then switched back to two and slashed.

At that point Yan accepted that treating Narasi like a Padawan would do nothing but get Yan some burns to match Tirien's. She stepped up her assault, fighting as she would in real battle. Narasi's big blue eyes tightened, but she asked for no quarter, and Yan sensed her sinking into the Force as the spar went on. Their blue blades flashed, sometimes the slow grind of power blow on power blow, sometimes the plasma haze of multiple strikes and counters in the blink of an eye. Yan got Narasi into a saber lock and bore down on her; she was half a head taller, but on her feet Narasi had all the ferocious strength of her species, and to Yan's amazement the young Zygerrian actually drove her back. She pushed Yan away and kicked her in the chest, and the blow knocked Yan halfway across the sparring chamber.

The end of it came almost before either of them realized it. Narasi did a two-handed jab at Yan's midsection, but Yan knocked it sideways with the forte of her blade and, rather than counter-slash, backhanded Narasi in the forehead. Narasi reeled, her eyes going out of focus for a second, and in that second Yan whirled her blade around and raked it over Narasi's midsection. At full power it would've hacked her in half, and Narasi dropped to one knee, her lightsaber falling from her grip as she clutched her stomach with one hand and pressed the other to the ground so she didn't collapse.

The automatic thrill of victory gave way to Jedi concern, and Yan deactivated her blade and knelt beside Narasi, pressing a clawed hand to her back. "You okay?"

Narasi coughed a few times, nodding before she managed to speak. "Yeah…yeah, I'm good…"

"If it makes you feel better, normally I wouldn't go that hard on a Padawan," Yan offered. "You're something special, kid."

"Yeah," Narasi wheezed, "my abs feel really special…"

Yan laughed and helped Narasi to her feet, offering the girl her lightsaber. They both dialed their weapons back to full intensity. "Seriously, though. I haven't had a Padawan give me that much trouble since…I don't remember when.  And you're what, fifteen?"

"Sixteen and a half, thank you," Narasi grumped.

Snickering, Yan slapped her back; Narasi coughed again. "Still, you're good. I'd hate to fight you by the time you become a Knight."

"I haven't beaten Tirien yet," she groused as they walked together to the door.

"If that's your benchmark, you're going to be disappointed for quite a while. Fortunately for us, there aren't a lot of Tiriens on the other side.  He's something special too."