The Fog of War/Part 2

"Breathe," Tirien said, keeping his voice low and soft. "Breeeathe. Feel the Force around you.  Everything in the galaxy is part of it.  You, me, all your comrades and all our fellow Jedi.  The stars outside, and the air between us.  Breathe in the Force."

The cluster of Jedi Initiates obeyed with mixed results, but Tirien was encouraged as he sensed a handful of them genuinely expanding beyond their physical selves. All their eyes were closed, some so hard that lines creased their brows or scales darkened on their cheeks, and a few leaned toward each other, instinctively drawn to the concentration of the Force in other life forms.

A quiet, three-note chime signaled the end of the period, and all the Initiates opened their eyes, comparing notes excitedly until Tirien cleared his throat. "Keep practicing," he advised. "Any time you have a free moment, remember to feel the Force around you. May it be with you."

"And also with you, Master Tirien," they chorused, then left in a controlled stampede.

In their wake, Tirien sat down in the center of the circular chamber and waited, opting for a moment of meditation himself. With hundreds of Jedi aboard, from younglings barely old enough to walk to venerable masters barely able to walk, the Crescentia was a rich tapestry of life in the Force, and it was only one of the capital ships in the Seventy-Second Battle Group. As he stretched out his perceptions, he thought he caught a familiar signature, but he was diverted by the proximity of a mind almost as familiar to him as his own.

"Bo shuda, Narasi," Tirien said, opening his eyes.

"Achuta, Lorda," she answered as she walked in, her Huttese slow but correct.

"Kava soolye anka metraska wum Slejux?" Tirien responded. How was your training with Slejux?

Narasi swallowed. "Da…da dah homawwa."

Tirien raised an eyebrow. "It well went?"

The young Zygerrian grimaced, exposing her fangs, but forced a deep breath and said, "Da homawwa dah."

"Better," Tirien said in Basic, nodding and gesturing to a spot near him on the floor.

Narasi sat cross-legged with a frown. "I hate this language."

"Count your blessings. Imagine if Basic wasn't your first language," Tirien pointed out.

He had chosen the comparison intentionally, and he watched Narasi as she opened her mouth to respond…then caught herself. Tirien sensed her mental shields coming up as she closed her usually open emotions. After a year and a half together she no longer looked scared, but the guardedness lingered.

"You're improving," he noted. "Jedi restraint is an ongoing process of self-control, but you're getting there."

"Thanks Master."

"You know you can tell me, when you're ready," he added.

A flicker of the old fear flashed through her big blue eyes before she covered it. "I know. Maybe another day, Master."

He nodded once and let it lie between them a little longer. "What's on your schedule for the rest of the day?"

Relaxing, Narasi said, "Free period now, then Science, then Intergalactic Politics." She made a face. "Republic good, Sith bad, Hutts bad in a different way. How much more is there, Master?"

Narasi's grin told him she was just trying to get a rise out of him, but Tirien groaned nonetheless. "Your appreciation for the expertise of your instructors is matched only by the subtlety and nuance of your observations."

She laughed, and Tirien permitted himself a half-smile. Then he said, "Let's see if we can't conjure up a few more shades of meaning, shall we? Tell me about Bothan Space."

She got into it with respectable detail, and was discussing the proficiency of the Bothan spy network when Tirien again felt that familiar pulse in the Force, much closer, a moment before a voice called, "Yeah, they're great. Problem is, they're great for everybody, and we're not always the highest bidder."

Narasi looked up and grinned. "Master Darakhan!"

He leaned against the doorframe, wearing his green robes as ever, his hair tousled around his face. Narasi and Tirien rose, and Tirien extended a hand to clasp Mali Darakhan's forearm. "Mali."

"Tirien. It's good to see you."

"And you. When did you arrive?"

"Only just," Mali said, kicking the gear bag he had deposited by the door indicatively. He ruffled Narasi's hair. "You look like you've grown five centimeters, Rican!"

"Getting there, Master Darakhan," she replied. "I like your beard."

"Yes, Mali, you look more like a Corellian pirate every day," Tirien taunted. As Mali laughed, Tirien looked past his shoulder. "Hello Aldayr."

The younger Corellian stepped forward to Mali's side. Narasi had gotten taller and better controlled since Taanab, but Tirien thought it was Aldayr Nikodon who had changed more. It was something around his eyes; something a little harder, less jocular.

"Hello Master Kal-Di."

"How's the arm?"

Aldayr raised his right hand, which he had covered with a brown glove. Drawing it off, he showed the durasteel fingers and wiring beneath. "It works. I've gotten used to how it feels." He looked to Tirien's side as he replaced his glove. "Hey Narasi."

"Hey."

Tirien wasn't sure what to make of the dynamic between the two Padawans, but Mali spared him the need to contemplate it. "Heard you won the day at Malastare."

Tirien shrugged. "We didn't have much to do with it apart from manning the guns, but yes, it was a victory. Lakalt's in retreat."

An uncharacteristically hesitant look came to Mali's face, and Tirien narrowed his eyes. "Isn't he?"

Mali looked at Aldayr. "Drop our stuff off in the quarters section, will you?"

"Yes Master." Aldayr took the two bags in his mechanical hand and disappeared down the hall.

Narasi gave Tirien a look. "Conversation for the grown-up Jedi, Master?"

Returning the look, he said, "Something like that. We'll catch up at the Second Chance tonight."

She rolled her eyes, but nodded and followed Aldayr out.

Mali chuckled. "Still puttering around the galaxy in that old beater?"

"It's coming along," Tirien responded, refusing to be diverted. "What about Lakalt, Mali?"

Mali sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the doorframe. "You won at Malastare, but now Lakalt's desperate. Intelligence says parts of his faction are looking to defect."

"To us?"

"To us, to Vedya Gasald…the far reaches might even throw in with Tarni Hadan if she fights off the power struggle on Ryloth. Lakalt needs a solid victory, and soon, or he's going to face mass desertion."

"He lost to the Battle Group at Malastare," Tirien reasoned. "He can't be looking for a rematch. Not without new resources…?"

Mali shook his head. "We don't know exactly what he has in mind, but he's not trying to tangle with Admiral Whoork again. No, I think this is something else."

Darakhan blew out a breath, lacing his hands through his hair before running them down his bearded cheeks. Tirien frowned. "What's bothering you, Mali? I can sense it."

Mali chuckled ruefully. "That'll teach me to try and sneak something past a Consular." He sighed. "Master Z'dar's left the Temple."

Tirien's yellow eyes narrowed again. "What do you mean 'left'?"

"I mean he said goodnight to the instructors one day, then didn't show up for training the next. Room cleaned out, no explanation, nobody saw a thing."

Tirien stared. "Where did he go?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Mali laughed again, but there was no humor in the sound. "Actually, I was hoping he might be here, so your guess is probably better than mine at this point."

"He's not," Tirien answered, still processing the revelation. "I haven't seen him in half a year."

He paused, then asked, "Why here?"

"Karr Shadeez's death hit him hard," Mali said. "And Shadeez was the check on Lakalt. With the Seventy-Second pushing Lakalt, I figured he might've come here to get in on the fight while the getting was good."

Tirien shook his head, and Mali sighed again. "We have to find him, Tirien. The Order needs him."

"We have to find him?" Tirien asked. "Isn't the Council looking for him?"

"They're trying to contain the fallout from him leaving in the first place," Mali replied. "The Initiates are buying the 'leave of absence' story, but the instructors all know, and it's getting around to the Knights too. The Guardians aren't happy, Tirien; he's said for years that he's wasted as a teacher, and they're starting to think that if he can buck the Council to do what's right, we can too."

Tirien rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "We're…well, Narasi and I are assigned here. What are you doing here, Mali?"

"We're between missions, so…I thought Aldayr and I might broaden our perspectives on the scope of the war."

Tirien snorted. "Spoken like a true Consular," he said dryly. "And you're concerned with other Guardians bucking the Council?"

"Look, we…we can't afford for the Order to get more fractious right now," Mali insisted.

Tirien stared; he had never seen Mali so frustrated. Reaching into the Force, he felt the other Jedi's agitation. "Mali, what is it? This is more than just Master Z'dar."

Mali glanced over his shoulder, then back. He seemed to give his words unusual care before speaking. "Do you know Master Tyson Dumiel?"

"No…wait." Tirien frowned; the name struck an odd chord in his memory. "Yes…he's one of yours, isn't he? A Corellian Jedi?"

"He's a Corellian Jedi; let's leave it at that." Mali grimaced. "He's called for a conclave of Corellian Jedi."

Crossing his arms, Tirien asked, "A conclave?"

"Yeah, like the kind you hear about in the histories…except you're not invited." He smiled without humor.

Tirien considered for a moment, then gestured into the meditation room, seating himself on the floor. Mali sat as well, his legs sprawled out.

"What do the Corellians have to talk about that the rest of us aren't invited for?"

"Did you hear about Tralus?" Mali asked. When Tirien shook his head, Mali continued, "The Republic caught some Sith scouts there. Dusted them."

"And?"

"Sith scouts in the Five Brothers, Tirien," Mali said. "Corellians don't like that."

"We're dealing with Sith everywhere," Tirien pointed out.

"Maybe so, but Corellia…it's different, Tirien."

"Because you're Corellian?"

"It's not just because it's my homeworld," Mali insisted. "Corellia's a backbone of the Republic. Corellia colonized half the worlds of the Slice.  The Crescentia was built at Corellia!"

Tirien frowned at him. "No one's denying that Corellia's a key system, Mali, but I could say the same of Coruscant, or Anaxes, or Alderaan."

Mali sighed. "It's different when you're Corellian."

"We're Jedi, Mali. We belong to the galaxy, not our homeworlds."

"Not every Jedi sees it that way. Corellia's always been independent, and…"  He sighed. "You might as well know, Tirien. There's a faction of Corellian Jedi who think our duty is to protect Corellia, not spread throughout the galaxy."

"Mali, you have to see the error there. What if every Jedi thought that way?  What if it was 'Caamas first', or 'Umbara first', or why not 'Pantora first'?" Tirien laid a hand on his own chest. "If we make our own little insular pockets, we'll be spread too thin to oppose the Sith."

Mali raised a hand in a weary way. "I'm not disagreeing with you, but Master Dumiel isn't alone in this."

"What about Master Arodion? She's Corellian, isn't she?"

"Yeah, and she doesn't hold with Master Dumiel's beliefs. But the Council's losing track of great Jedi Masters, the Sith are in the Five Brothers, we haven't retaken Gizer…and she's only one voice saying the Council has it right."

Tirien stared. "Mali…you're not going to this conclave?"

"I think I have to, Tirien. If my comrades think Master Arodion's just a mouthpiece for the other Council Masters, they're not going to listen to her, and somebody has to talk sense into them."

Weighing that, Tirien couldn't deny the logic. Though still a Knight, Mali was already the most famous Corellian Jedi apart from Nawsa Arodion, respected throughout the Order. "Will your master be there?"

Mali laid a hand on the pocket where he kept his Jedi Credit; Tirien wasn't sure he was aware of the motion. "Yeah, probably. I don't know whose side he's going to take, though."

"Are you taking Aldayr?" When Mali looked conflicted, Tirien pressed, "He's Corellian, isn't he?"

Sighing, Mali ran his hands through his hair again and showed Tirien that half-hearted smile. "Isn't this the sort of thing Masters are supposed to deal with? The old folks quibble about the big picture while the young ones handle things on the ground, one Sith at a time?"

"Well, if the Masters are taking leaves of absence from the Temple and thinking one world at a time," Tirien retorted dryly, "somebody has to step up."

"Lucky us."

"Speak for yourself, General."

Mali rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that too. But you're 'the hope of the next generation' too and all that, and Slejux.  And I'd keep an eye on Kenza Rowkwani."

Tirien shook his head. "Not familiar."

"Miraluka. She just got Knighted without Trials, like you."

"I'm happy to spread the heroism around," Tirien said.

"Until you get another shot at Darth Alecto?"

Her name brought a frown to Tirien's lips, and he worked hard to keep his mind level. He had not told anyone but Narasi even the gist of what had happened on Toprawa, and even now he wasn't sure what to make of it. Part of him wanted Mali's take on the whole debacle, but the rest suspected he knew how a Jedi Guardian would react.

"I haven't crossed blades with her since Gizer," he answered carefully. "Have you seen her since Taanab?"

Mali shook his head. "No, though her reputation precedes her through the Expansion Region. Well, don't worry, buddy.  I'm sure one of us will get a crack at her sooner or later."