A Certain Point of View/Part 6

The silvery waters of the Pylulm River flowed by beneath the bridge and out of sight, gleaming where streetlights and buildings reflected off ice floes. Some of Isalius's onion-domed towers were lit up inside, and Tirien imagined Narasi must be enjoying the appearance of a candle city if she could see it. He leaned against the bridge's guard rail, his hood up to conceal his face, enjoying the momentary anonymity. It had a cool, pristine beauty, this homeworld of his. He understood how his people could be attached to it, and not just because it was pleasantly cold.

Tirien was gazing up at the stars, trying to pick out familiar constellations from an unfamiliar perspective, when he sensed Narasi's approach. "You okay, Master?"

He turned to her with a nod. "Just thinking. How was your day?"

Tirien was not distracted enough to miss the queer look that stole across his Padawan's face. "Weird."

He gestured down the street, and she fell in step. "What did you do?"

She took long enough to weigh her thoughts that Tirien started to worry about the answer. "Just walked around a lot. Saw the sights.  I had lunch with some kids at a mall…"

Tirien smiled. His impending meeting with the Chairman dominated his thoughts, but he had not forgotten Dorje Sokos or the reason he was supposed to be here. "Little kids?"

"No…well, I guess not kids, so much…" She made a face. "They were about my age, I guess?"

Tirien raised an eyebrow. "Do you think of yourself as a kid?"

"No," Narasi said firmly. "But they weren't like me."

"What do you mean?"

"They were just…" She struggled for the words. "…not immature, really, but…no, you know what? Yeah.  'Immature'.  Like, they're on vacation, and they thought it was so weird that I'm not—like I don't have better things to do.  And they were talking about joining up with the military and fighting battles like it's some kind of game.  They just don't get it."

Tirien sighed, and Narasi frowned. "What?"

"I wish you didn't have to either," he admitted.

She looked surprised. "You want me to be oblivious like them?"

"No," Tirien said. "You need to understand in order to survive. I wish you didn't have to get it.  You're a soldier and a killer, Narasi, and I was at your age too.  But you're only fifteen."

"Do you think I can't handle it?" she pressed, still frowning.

Tirien sighed and stopped to face his apprentice. "No, I've seen you in battle, I know you can. You're a good Padawan, Narasi; someday you'll be an incredible Jedi.  But in a better world you wouldn't have to be what you are."

"Would you?" she countered. "What's the magic age when killing becomes okay?"

"Killing is like war, Narasi. It's sometimes the best thing, but it's never a good thing."

"So then there's never a 'good' age to start," she reasoned. "Sith Empire, galactic war, existential threat…don't you remember, Master? You're the one who said all that!"

"I know," he sighed. "But I'm not sure Dorje Sokos was wrong, either. Look at your own question from the other side.  If there's no good age to start, why don't we take eleven-year-old Padawans?  Or ten?"

Narasi shifted uneasily. "Well, there are the cadences. You know, making sure you're not going to cut your own arm off with your lightsaber?"

"You think having the ability to kill means you're mentally and emotionally ready to kill?" Tirien asked.

Narasi frowned. "Not necessarily, maybe, but…"

"Were you?"

She winced. "I don't know. What about you?  How old were you the first time you killed somebody?"

"Thirteen, like you," Tirien replied. "A mercenary. He tried to shoot Suwo and me, and I stabbed him in the heart."

"Were you ready?" she asked.

Tirien thought about it. "I took it for what it was. Suwo talked to me about it afterward, and we worked through it…"

He trailed off; Narasi's wistful look was fast, but the mental flavor of it lingered enough for him to catch. Tirien sighed. "And I didn't do that for you," he admitted. "I owed that to you as your master, and I let you down there. I'm sorry."

She looked touched, but also confused. "It was a long time ago, Master. We got better, you and me."

"We did," he admitted, and she returned his smile. "But if we're going to train children to be soldiers, at the very least we owe it to them to do it well, the right way."

"I'm not a child, Master," Narasi insisted. She looked both vexed and uneasy. "I hope you don't think of me that way."

Tirien wondered what it would be like to have been a Jedi in a time that luxury could be afforded. "No," he admitted, "I don't. I think of you as a Jedi."

She smiled, reassured, and Tirien tried to mirror it back this time, though he feared something was lacking. He led the way on.

"You know, I feel like we could avoid this whole thing if we didn't wait so long," Narasi mused on the walk. "Like if, when Forceful kids were born, they just automatically became Jedi."

Tirien frowned. "How so?"

"Well—I mean, it'd only work in the Republic, obviously—but why not just have a Senate law or something that all Forceful kids become Jedi? Doesn't that solve the problem?"

"You're talking about conscripting infants," Tirien pointed out. "Taking the choice away from their families."

"Yeah, but isn't that better?" Narasi argued. "Isn't being a Jedi what Forceful beings are supposed to be? The Sith and the Dark Jedi are perversions, right?"

"Yes," Tirien conceded, "but the Jedi aren't kidnappers. We're struggling enough to retain the public's confidence as it is.  I can tell Dorje Sokos until I'm purple in the face that being a Jedi is best for Ayson, but if I took him by force…"

"But being a Jedi is better." She paused, and then an odd look crossed her face. She bit her lip, then asked, "Are you glad your parents gave you up?"

"Of course," Tirien said.

"You don't wonder what you'd have been here if you hadn't become a Jedi?"

"No," Tirien said, frowning. "I've never really given it much thought…"

"Well, maybe you'd have had some choices here," Narasi ventured. "You could've been a communications engineer, or a lawyer, or something."

They were oddly specific examples, and Tirien stared at her. Narasi looked briefly awkward, but then firmed her face. "Not me, though. I'm glad the Order took me, because I know what I would've been."

She shivered, and Tirien wondered anew exactly how his apprentice had come to the Order, and what trauma had attended the event. But then Narasi shivered again and wrapped her arms around her chest, and Tirien noticed belatedly the wind that wasn't really bothering him.

"Hang on," he said, glancing around to ensure no one was nearby. Drawing her to the side of the road in the shadow of a building, he said, "Give me your hand."

She did, and he laid it against his chest. "Reach out with the Force. Sense what I'm doing."

Concentrating the Force himself, he focused it inward, bundling its energy and letting that comforting, protecting power expand. Narasi closed her eyes to concentrate, but they narrowed in curiosity, and she dug her sharp nails into his chest as if it might help her understand. Tirien felt his skin prickle and his face flush; he threw his hood back, but even in the breeze a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Narasi opened her eyes, and they filled her face as she saw him. "Whoa. How did you do that?"

"It's called Tapas," Tirien explained. "The Force protects us against danger, and that doesn't just mean enemies. This is my homeworld, the environment's no threat to me, but that isn't true for you.  Focus the Force inside yourself; let it protect you."

Narasi thought about it a moment, then nodded and closed her eyes, still shivering but now squeezing up her face in concentration. Tirien watched her, but he was distracted by how easily my homeworld had rolled off his tongue this time; it sounded more natural with each repetition, and he sensed there was temptation there. It was becoming less of a biographical fact and more of a connection. Was this what it was like for Mali with Corellia? He should have asked.

There was no sweat on Narasi's head, but she had stopped shivering, and she looked at Tirien quizzically. He sensed her in the Force, then asked, "Better?"

"A bit, yeah. I'll work on it." She smiled. "Thanks, Master."

They walked along, and Tirien pointed. "You see that hotel? We're staying there."

Narasi looked at the towering building and whistled. "Wow, fancy." She looked at Tirien, eyes narrowed. "I thought we were avoiding the VIP treatment?"

Tirien was proud of her for being quick on the uptake, but he sighed. "Let's get checked in, and I'll tell you about my day."

She frowned but said nothing else as they walked to the hotel, standing quietly at his side as he checked them in. The desk attendant clearly recognized him at once, but had enough discipline not to make a scene. They took the turbolift up, then found their way to the executive suite.

"Whoa!" Narasi said, taking in the wide parlor. She grinned, kicked off her boots, got a running start, vaulted over a serpentine sofa with the Force, and flung herself through an open door onto an octagonal bed wider than she was tall. Sitting up and bouncing in place with a laugh, she looked out the ceiling-high windows that afforded a view of the city, then stared at Tirien in wonder. "Geez, Master, did they make you Chancellor or something?!"

Tirien rolled his eyes. "The Chairman's office insisted, and there was no courteous way to refuse."

"The Chairman?"

"Of the Pantoran Assembly." Sitting down on the couch, Tirien patted the spot beside him. Narasi sprang off the bed and took the seat, concern on her face now. Tirien waited until she was settled, then told her about his encounter with Samaya Otarosi and his impending meeting with the Chairman. By the time he was done she looked thoughtful.

"What do you think he wants?" she asked.

Tirien shook his head. "I don't know. Support for some political position seems too simple; Jedi can't be bought with just a fancy hotel room, and a career politician would be smart enough to know that." He looked around the room and shook his head. "But helping us with Ayson seems too straightforward."

Narasi crossed her legs under her so she could sit sideways and face him. "Master, what's the problem with the hotel? I mean, you're not going to let it influence you, so…"

"We're Jedi, Narasi," he answered. "We live lives of service, simplicity, and sacrifice. The suite is fantastic—the Chairman probably picked it because he's stayed here himself.  But it's much, much more than we need.  The more a Jedi gets used to comfort and luxury, the more he starts to expect it.  We're in a hotel today, but we could be sleeping on the floor in a warehouse like on Milagro tomorrow.  Influence isn't always as obvious as a bribe; that kind of temptation is easier for a Jedi to ignore.  Vanity is subtler, and harder."

"The next time we invade a planet, I promise I won't ask for room service," Narasi teased.

Tirien gave her a look, and she giggled. Rolling his eyes, he said, "Your spirit of simplicity humbles me. But anyway, the Chairman."

She nodded, thoughtful now. "You know, somebody mentioned him to me today. A couple people, actually.  Kinda sounds like he's under pressure to keep the planet safe."

"I imagine so," Tirien agreed. "Pirates, slavers, Hadan and her Dark Jedi, to say nothing of the Hutts…it's a dangerous part of space."

"Well, yeah, but it was more than that," Narasi said. "Maybe…I don't know."

Tirien looked at her, intrigued. "No, follow that thought. Maybe…?"

She frowned, eyes narrowed as she rolled it over in her mind. Tirien gave her time until she said, "Maybe he wants something from you. Some way that you can do something for him that'll make him look better.  Everybody knows you're a hero here, Master; maybe he's hoping you can get the Republic to back Pantora up."

Tirien took it under advisement. "Sounds like you did good work today," he praised her. "Listening to the right people, taking note of the important details."

She smiled, then laid a hand on her stomach as it rumbled. "What's for dinner, Master?"

"I probably have some rations in my bag…" he started, but Narasi gave him a look.

"Hey, tomorrow we might be in a warehouse eating rations," she pointed out. "We won't always have this nice hotel, Master. I could use some brain food to keep up the good insights…maybe room service…?"

Tirien rolled his eyes, arching his neck back to stare at the ceiling as she laughed. He was tempted to make her eat a ration just to prove a point, but part of his mind was still on Dorje Sokos's words. Narasi had a hard life, as every Jedi did, and it would probably be hard until the day she died. Overindulgence was fatal to self-discipline, but neither were the Jedi required to be ascetics. "Oh, fine."

They sat on either side of the coffee table when their dinner was delivered, picking pieces from each other occasionally, although when Tirien offered Narasi a glass of the wine he was drinking, she blanched a little and declined.

"Not everything's a Flameout," he noted dryly.

Her cheeks colored again. "I'll…take your word for it, Master."

Tirien chuckled and sipped his own glass as Narasi dug into her dessert and asked, "So what are we going to do about Ayson, Master?"

"I don't know," Tirien admitted. "Dorje's obviously afraid of losing him, but also of Ayson losing his innocence. The one is attachment, but the other is a deeper and more complex question.  I've never been a recruiter, and I was only there part of the time Harshee was talking to my parents.  And that was twenty-one years ago."

"You know…" Narasi started, swirling the milkshake she was drinking from a glass as tall as her forearm was long, "I bet they remember it a lot better. I mean, you were their only kid then."

"Then?" Tirien asked.

Narasi twitched. "Well, you…you said you didn't have any siblings, right?"

"Right…"

"So yeah," she pressed on quickly. "You were their only kid, and they decided to let you go. Maybe we could go see them.  Ask what made them decide that."

Tirien sighed and set down his wine glass. "Not a vacation," he reminded her. "Not here to develop attachments."

"But this helps!" Narasi insisted. "It's for the mission!"

"Why is this so important to you?" he asked, trying to understand his apprentice. When she hesitated, he had a sudden thought that made him hesitate too; this was always walking on glass, and he did not want her to shut down. But nor could he let her keep bringing this up indefinitely, and he was definitely not buying her 'it helps the mission' logic. "Narasi, do you miss your own parents?"

She froze as he expected her to, her eyes widening, and her mouth opened as she struggled for a reply. But then a completely different sort of surprise flooded her face, and the twinge of fear in the Force was replaced by a sense of dawning comprehension. "Narasi?"

"Oh, Force…" she breathed, obviously in the midst of some revelation. She had occasionally admired when he made some deduction; he wondered if this was what it was like watching the process from the outside. When she refocused at last, her eyes narrowed. "Master, where was Ayson's mom?"

"Well, she…she…" Tirien could feel his face aping her look of revelation as he caught up to her in an instant. The anguish Dorje had felt in contemplation of losing his son, his possessive protectiveness beyond even what a parent would normally feel, and the family apartment with only two occupants. "Oh, Chaos take me…"

He sat back, the entire situation taking on a new aspect. "That complicates things."

Narasi nodded, her face now entirely sober. Running a hand over his, Tirien shook his head. "Good insight."

She smiled weakly and prodded her dessert. "I told you. Brain food."

Tirien conjured up a half-hearted chuckle for her. "Rest is good for the brain too. We'll be busy tomorrow."

"Can I go with you to meet the Chairman?"

"No, let me deal with that. I want you to follow up on this.  See if you can find out what happened."

She looked more intrigued than disappointed. "Okay, I think I know a couple people I can reach out to."

"Made some friends?" Tirien asked.

Narasi's look was hard to understand. "Something like that, yeah."