Who You Are in the Dark/Part 10

When Tirien stepped out of the Second Chance 's refresher and down the corridor to the cockpit, feeling like a new man, he found Narasi waiting for him. By unspoken consensus, they had piled their swamp-soiled clothes for disposal and were back in their Jedi attire, though Tirien was content with his undertunic and the sleeves rolled up, enjoying the cool of space. Narasi sat in the copilot's chair, and Tirien limped to the pilot's to join her.

"How's your leg, Master?"

"It'll be a day or two, but the bacta patch should take care of it," he said. Flexing the fingers of his left hand and wincing, he added, "My finger needs a couple more hours of meditation anyway, so I might speed it up."

Narasi shook her head. "Alecto…"

Tirien said nothing. Narasi had given him what he suspected was an abridged version of her captivity and escape, and though he had not shared his speculations with his Padawan, Tirien was nursing a suspicion on just how she and Gennic had managed that. It seemed incredible, but nothing else made sense.

"So are we telling the Council we succeeded, or…?" Narasi asked.

"We stopped General Seldec from activating a superweapon, destroyed the Betrayer's Heart, and managed to outfly those destroyers, although we really need to upgrade the engines…" Tirien reasoned. "We lost a brave Knight, but under the circumstances…"

He trailed off as he saw Narasi frown. "What is it?"

"Master…did you know what would happen if he destroyed the amulet?"

Tirien remembered the explosion of energy, so swift Gennic and his Vanguardian enemy never even had time to scream. "Yes, I did."

"Do…you think he knew?"

"Gennic Forgey was a seasoned Jedi," Tirien said slowly, trying to get a read on what his apprentice was thinking. "Old enough to have been my master's friend, with more experience than both of us combined. Yes, I think he knew."

She looked distraught, so Tirien asked, "What is it, Narasi?"

"I…I just don't understand," she admitted. "I can't believe he did that."

Tirien frowned. "Our lives are in service to the Republic, Narasi, you know that. If that service means we need to die to keep others safe—"

"No, I know," she interrupted. "I know. A good Jedi is willing to die for others.  But he…"

"Wasn't a good Jedi?" Tirien prodded. Sensing he had hit close to the mark, he asked, "What aren't you telling me?"

She sighed, but filled in the gaps in her previous story, describing her arguments with Gennic in their cell. When she was done, Tirien sat back for a long moment, staring out at the blue-and-white blur of hyperspace.

Narasi broke the silence. "I just don't understand, Master. How someone so cruel—"

"—could be so brave, and do such a noble thing?" Tirien asked. Narasi squirmed, but nodded.

Sighing, Tirien rotated the pilot's chair to face her, stretching out his injured leg carefully. "It's easier the other way, isn't it? When every Jedi is Master Cazars or Mali Darakhan, and every Sith is—"

He stopped, momentarily unsure of his go-to comparison, but Narasi supplied, "Darth Alecto?"

"Coldly, remorselessly evil," he corrected carefully. "It's easier to fight your enemies and cherish your allies when they don't make it hard for you."

She nodded.

"But that's not the galaxy we live in," Tirien said. "Jedi—sometimes Padawans, sometimes Masters with decades of service—fall to the dark. Sith realize their evil and turn back to the light.  And if being a villain doesn't always mean you're beyond redemption, then being a hero doesn't mean you're a perfect person.  We can choose our friends, but we can't always choose our allies, or our brother and sister Jedi."

"A Jedi should be better than that," Narasi insisted.

"Yes," Tirien agreed. "I don't know every experience Gennic had, or everything he's seen Zygerrians do to others, but that doesn't excuse—"

"I don't care what he's seen them do!" Narasi snapped, slapping her hand on the metal of the control console in frustration. "I'm not them, I'm me!"

She turned to glower out the viewport. Tirien felt her anger, but he sensed it was merely the visible tip of a submerged iceberg of fear. "Narasi, look at me."

Waiting until she had rotated her chair to face his, Tirien asked, "I agree with you that Gennic was wrong, but this isn't just about Gennic, is it?"

Her anger evaporated, and her blue eyes filled with doubt and dismay. "What else is bothering you, Narasi?"

She crossed her arms over her stomach, looking down. "Do you remember those Humans in the bar, Master?"

"Do you?" Tirien asked dryly.

It worked; she laughed once, but it was a shaky thing, and her nascent smile died stillborn. "I was playing the part, and I acted just like…just like what everyone imagines when they see me. And it worked.  They told us what we needed.  I'm only fourteen, but they were so afraid of me, and I…I liked it, Master.  It made me feel…strong."

She shuddered and went on before Tirien could speak. "All my life I never wanted to be that, but it came so easily to me! The first time I ever tried to be that, and I barely had to try.  And then when we were down in those caves, and I saw the slaves, and those overseers hurting them…"

Tirien could hear the tears in her voice before she turned her watery eyes up to him. "I don't want to be that!"

Tirien leaned toward her. In a calm voice, he said, "I don't think you're like that. And I'm surprised you do."

"Master, what if I am like that?! What if that's what Zygerrians are?"

Scooting to the edge of his chair, Tirien studied his apprentice's anxious face. "Narasi, there are species in the galaxy that are largely bound to what most people think of them. Hive-mind species usually do work hard without much thought.  Bith and Givin do think mathematically about everything.  Gamorreans will always be a little violent.  But I don't think Zygerrians are that way.  The Zygerrian Slave Empire is a culture, not a genetic trait."

"But I told you, that bartender—"

"Yes, fear," Tirien said. "But that's not because you're a Zygerrian, Narasi. It's because you're a Jedi."

Confusion cleared every other emotion from her face. "A Jedi? But that's not what Jedi do."

"No, but it's a Jedi's temptation," Tirien said. "You didn't like them fearing you because of your Zygerrian genes, Narasi. You liked it because it's the dark side."

Her hands clenched to fists. "The dark side?"

"Every being likes to be respected, Narasi," he said, "and no being likes to be mocked, or undervalued, or treated with disdain. It can pique any being's temper, but a Jedi is different.  A Jedi can force people to obey, and punish people who don't.  And at first that kind of power will feel thrilling.  The dark side isn't always about your fear.  If someone doesn't treat you with respect, you can hurt them until they do.  You have power over your fellow beings, and it does make you feel strong."

"But that strength is an illusion," he went on. "Fear is never respect; it's just fear. Fear is for what you can do; respect is for who you are.  The dark side won't make people respect you, and it doesn't make you stronger.  Hurting people never does.  That's what the Sith and the Zygerrian slavers don't understand.  They camouflage their weakness behind the ability to do harm, and delude themselves that the ability to hurt people makes them worthy of respect.  In a way, Forceful or not, the Zygerrian slavers are servants of the dark side."

"We're not immune from temptation," he told her, "but succumbing is always a choice. We speak of 'falling to the dark side', but it's a bad metaphor.  Every Jedi stumbles from time to time, but becoming a Sith or a Dark Jedi isn't a fall, it's a dive."

"But…I don't want the dark side," Narasi said. "I'm a Jedi."

"Being a Jedi isn't a one-day decision," Tirien said. "Putting on that lightsaber and becoming my Padawan wasn't the end of your path. Being Knighted wasn't the end of mine.  The path only ends when we become one with the Force.  Until that day—every day until that day—it's a continuing series of choices.  Take the quick and easy path, give in to anger, thrive on the fear of others…or take the harder path and be a Jedi."

Narasi brushed her eyes with one hand, then said, "I want to be a Jedi. I choose to be a Jedi."

Tirien sat back. "Then just remember that. You're lucky; you learned one of your temptations early.  Never substitute fear for respect.  And never substitute the respect of others for self-respect."

"Master?"

"Narasi, you're a Zygerrian," he said. "It's what you are, but it isn't who you are. It doesn't matter if other people think you're the greatest Jedi since Satele Shan or you're no better than the Sith.  You're a part of the Force and a servant of the light, and that is where your worth comes from.  Nobody's esteem can give you more worth and nobody's hatred can take yours away."

She sat back, looking thoughtful, and Tirien turned his chair back toward the viewport. He was working out how he was going to describe Gennic Forgey's sacrifice to the Jedi Council when Narasi asked, "Master…you think I'm a good person?"

"Does it matter?" he tested.

She hesitated, and Tirien sensed her warring with herself. Then she sighed and showed him a half-smile. "I'll try to get to where it doesn't, Master."

"It's a start," Tirien said with an approving nod. Once he was sure Narasi had settled her mind, he added, "But for the record, yes, I do."

It was good to see her really smile again, and he gave her one in turn. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see if I can't speed my leg and my finger along. Nudge me if anything important…"

He stopped as the console beeped. Narasi said, "Uh…nudge?"

Tirien frowned, looking at the hyperdrive countdown. "We can't be there yet…"

On closer inspection, he saw he had left his Jedi transceiver beacon plugged into the communications suite, which gave a boop as the beacon blinked.

"They can talk to us in hyperspace?" Narasi marveled.

"No, just a signal," Tirien corrected. "Stand by."

He pulled back the hyperdrive lever, and the Second Chance reverted to realspace, the blue-white blur fracturing to lines, which shrank to the pinpoints of distant stars. Narasi activated the shields as Tirien glanced at the scanner, but there were no planets, satellites, or ships nearby. Tapping on the comm system for a moment, he finally pulled up the Temple frequency.

A blue-white holo of Elata Cazars appeared, and Tirien inclined his head. "Master."

"We received your initial message, Tirien," she said.

"We're still en route, Master," he said. "We're…where are we?"

"Still on the Hydian…" Narasi stalled, consulting the star chart. "Just Coreward of…uh, looks like Botajef?"

"We're hours out from Coruscant, Master," Tirien added.

"You're not returning to Coruscant," the Twi'lek said. "New orders. Proceed down the Hydian to Denon and board the Crescentia there.  Report to the Praxeum Council; they'll give you further orders."

"Yes Master. And our full report about Toprawa…?"

"There's no time to waste; send it to us from the Crescentia. May the Force be with you both."

When the holo had faded, Tirien unplugged the beacon and replaced it on his belt, then began the calculations for the expanded trip down the Hydian. Working beside him, Narasi asked, "It's a praxeum ship, Master?"

"One of the few Corellian Colonizers we have left," Tirien noted. They had lost four praxeum ships since Mizra alone; now only the Crescentia, the Ardent Guardian, and the Silikan Stillness remained.

"Why do they want us there?"

"We'll know when we get there, but the praxeum ships have served as warships since Darth Ruin's time," he noted grimly. As the navicomputer secured the jump and Tirien sent them back into hyperspace, he said, "I suppose we're going back to war."