1,387 BBY
"What do you think of this piece?"
Narasi ran her hands over her face, tenting them over her nose and drawing a deep breath through her fingers, but forced herself to press on. "It's very…fiery, Master."
Tirien gave her a look of mild castigation and typed input into the terminal, calling up the last two as well. Gesturing to the three, he asked, "And in comparison to the others?"
Though they were not identical, she didn't think the minute differences were really worth remarking on. She told her master so, then added, "I mean, they're pretty, I guess."
The look on Tirien's face told her he was not impressed. Taking her by the shoulders from behind, he walked her slowly around the holoprojector. "Look at them from different angles. Watch the way the fire bends the light, the way its own light changes. Really look at them."
Narasi took another bracing breath, trying to smooth her impatience with the Force. The holoprojector did a good job replicating true color rather than the blue ghosts of holo communication, and the three Sluissi flame sculptures did seem to twist as Tirien moved her around them. She cocked her head to one side, watching the way the light moved from the different perspective. "I guess I see what you mean. A lot probably went into them?"
"And it tells you something about their creators," Tirien remarked, leaving her side to stand on the other side of the display; she saw the way the fire sculptures lit his blue face and wondered if that was deliberate. "The Sluissi have incredible attention to detail, and the patience required to put it into action. Fire and electricity might be the most difficult media; they're challenging to manipulate, and even harder to get them to be exactly what you want, like these."
He gestured to the flame sculptures, but he had tripped Narasi's memory. "You can," she recalled. "You pushed fire at Darth Alecto on Milagro."
Across the library, a female Arcona Jedi Knight looked up, and Narasi felt a touch of intrigue in the Force. Tirien seemed to sense it as well, but he didn't turn his head. "I nudged it. I couldn't make something like this."
Narasi sighed, leaning forward with her hands on either side of the display and staring at him through the holographic flames. "But nudging it was useful. This is just pretty."
"Narasi…"
"Master, why are we here?" Narasi asked.
Some of the other Jedi in the library were looking at them now, but Tirien ignored them, too. "The meditation rooms only have a few images each. The library has the Crescentia's full database, from half the art museums in the Republic."
"I mean why are we here, on the Crescentia?" Narasi demanded, exasperated. "Why aren't we out there doing something?"
She gestured up to the library's quiet reading room; the transparisteel dome was visible through its open door, and the starlight shone through as if mocking her with all the worlds she was forbidden to see.
Tirien narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice level. "Because the Council wants us to be aboard."
Narasi grimaced, but the Arcona, Yan Razam, scooted her chair back from her work station. "She's not wrong, Tirien," she pointed out. "You're wasted here."
Narasi nodded, but Tirien said, "We have a chance to deepen our connection to the Force here and assist the Battle Group."
"Against what?" Yan scoffed. "Lakalt's dead in the vacuum, he just doesn't know it yet."
"Exactly!" Narasi agreed. "And there are other Sith out there…"
She trailed off at the stern look from her master, but by then an Ithorian Jedi had finished replacing a datacard and turned to them all. He said in his species's low, stereo voice, "Perhaps rushing to face the Sith without contemplating the will of the Force is the reason you're still here, Padawan Rican."
He spoke to Narasi, but his words were clearly meant for both of them; Narasi saw her master draw a deep breath through his nose. Yan, meanwhile, demanded, "Would you have left Darakhan to die, Somba?"
"Who's the more foolish," a Wroonian who looked a good deal like a female Tirien asked from a data terminal, "the fool, or the fool who follows him?"
The Wroonian's Padawan looked embarrassed for her master, but a Klatooinian took up the charge. "Would you call Master Kadych a fool too?"
"We're no longer in a position to call Master Kadych anything," Somba noted sadly.
Yan Razam looked fired up, but before she could reply, Master Coreski, the librarian, came over. "This is a library," he said coolly. "If you're incapable of comporting yourselves as Jedi, try to at least equal the Initiates who've gotten the hang of 'inside voices'."
They had been louder than Narasi realized; more Jedi were staring and a whole class of younglings choked a classroom door until their minder chivvied them back inside. Narasi flushed, but Tirien merely bowed in silence, powered down the display of flame sculptures, and walked from the library. Narasi took in the mixed emotions on the faces of the other Knights, then caught up to Tirien at a jog.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean for you to be embarrassed."
He stopped, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Nor was I; they're just words, Narasi. But we can't continue to be a source of conflict for other Jedi."
She was glad he wasn't angry, but his calm was frustrating, too. "Doesn't it—"
He held up a hand. "Walk with me, and think about what you want to say while you do."
They went on in silence, and Narasi tried for Empty Meditation as Tirien led her amidships. She thought he might be seeking out a meditation room, but he surprised her by turning into the hangar bay instead. The Second Chance's ramp was down, and he led her aboard, sealing the ramp after them and taking a seat in the open floor of the passenger compartment. He gestured to the deckplates, and she sat opposite him with a grimace.
"You look frustrated," he noted. "I thought the setting might please you."
"It's like…" She gave him a skewed look. "It's like going to an art museum and not being allowed to look at the flame sculptures."
He laughed once, but then adopted that same, narrow-eyed look of deep thought. "Have you decided what you want to say?"
Being aboard their ship had thrown her off; she wondered if it was intentional. Rallying, she said, "We're Jedi, Master. Jedi in the middle of a war. Doesn't it bother you that we're stuck on the Crescentia and not out there helping people?"
"It did, at first," Tirien answered. "It still does, from time to time."
"Then why are you and Slejux so calm about it?"
"Perhaps we're just better at projecting calm. You might try it some time."
"Master…"
He raised a hand with a sigh. "Narasi, I made a decision to defy the Praxeum Council once already. Stirring discontent among other Jedi does nothing to show the Council they can trust us, and being angry about being here is just me saying that I know better than they do again."
Narasi thought she might bet on her master's judgment over the Council's, especially without Master Kadych to speak for the Sith-destroying agenda. She never would have imagined missing his presence on the Council. "It just…it feels like we're being punished, you know? It's embarrassing for me."
"Who says it's a punishment? Was I punishing you by making you contemplate art?"
"Um…"
Narasi stopped herself, but her thoughts must have touched her face, because Tirien rolled his eyes. "The correct answer is 'no'," he said dryly. "I wanted you to contemplate a perspective you hadn't considered—to understand that there's more to the world than what you may know. I think that's the Council's desire for us."
"To consider how they think about Milagro, you mean?" she asked. When Tirien nodded, Narasi asked, "Is it working? Do you think they're right?"
He hesitated. "I see their perspective. Gasald still controls Milagro, and the Crescentia has lost Master Kadych."
"But if you had it to do over," Narasi pressed, "would you have stayed here?"
Tirien touched Mali Darakhan's lightsaber on his belt and sighed. "You know I wouldn't."
"So if they're waiting for you to say you were wrong, we're going to be 'contemplating' forever," Narasi grumbled. "Sounds a lot like punishment to me."
"Be patient, Narasi."
"Master, there are people dying out there!"
His eyes tightened; at first it looked like annoyance, but Narasi had been Tirien's apprentice for nearly two years now, and she knew his "controlling my annoyance" face. She wondered if she had touched a nerve—if they were more in agreement than he was letting on, but he was towing the Council's line because…why?
"The fact that we're at war is all the more reason for patience," he said. "We're Jedi; we have the power to do great harm if we're not careful, and that makes it all the more important to have self-control, so our actions are deliberate, not reflexive."
Narasi had a sneaking suspicion another meditation session was coming, but before he could go on his comlink buzzed. She felt a vibration on her belt at the same moment, and they drew them out as one. She glanced at the screen and saw, REPORT TO THE PRAXEUM COUNCIL.
She looked up and knew at once he had gotten the same message. "All good things come to those who wait?"
He gave her a long-suffering look. "You're lucky good things don't require them to wait patiently. Let's go."
She took the rebuke in stride, too excited to let it cut deeply, although she tried to keep her mind even lest he call her on it. He gave her a sideways glance on the way but didn't speak, so she thought she had succeeded somewhat. When they came on the Council's room at the heart of the ship they stopped outside the door, and Narasi drew a breath through her nose, holding it and letting the Force flow over her, then exhaled, breathing out her concerns into a state of focus. She opened her eyes to find Tirien finishing the same exercise and smiled at him. One side of his mouth turned up before he cleared his expression and opened the door.
"Hello Tirien," Caamasi Master Multiqi La'altac said from the center chair that had once seated Sil Kadych. The Masters had all reshuffled, but they had left a seat open at one end of the arc of five, hoping for their fallen comrade's recovery. Narasi tried not to let sadness distract her as she bowed.
"Masters," Tirien said, but halfway into his own bow he stopped abruptly, and Narasi straightened in surprise. She followed his gaze to a diminutive Jedi standing to one side; the woman wouldn't even have come up to Narasi's waist, not even a meter tall, and Narasi had missed her entirely. She didn't even have a guess on the Jedi's species; the small woman looked much like holos Narasi had seen of horses, with thick fur and a flowing mane the color of rusted copper, but she stood erect on two cloven hooves, and had long, powerfully muscled arms that seemed more primate in descent. She wore Jedi garb in dark colors, as Tirien usually did, but hers were sleeveless, worn from rough use, and spotted around the hems; having spent hours digging through the Second Chance's innards, Narasi recognized grease stains right away.
Narasi and Tirien had been aboard the Crescentia the better part of a year and she had met all the Jedi aboard, but this one was unfamiliar. She was still staring when she felt Tirien's flash of surprise in the Force and the little Jedi grinned a block-toothed grin at the end of her muzzle. "Tirien!"
She held out an open hand to Tirien, closed it into a fist, and touched it to her chest. Narasi was startled enough when the little Jedi hopped with the aid of the Force, jumping up into Tirien's arms and wrapping him in a hug with her thick arms, but she was floored when Tirien caught her, chuckled once, smiled, and patted her on the back in an indulgent way. Tirien had never been the physically affectionate type; if he gave her even a pat on the shoulder Narasi knew something particularly good or bad was going on. Not that she wanted him to be the huggy type all the time; she liked her space sometimes. But she watched him hold up this Jedi he had never even mentioned before and felt a spasm of annoyance.
"Uh…Master?" she said pointedly, jerking her head toward the Council. The Council Masters themselves did not seem nearly as perturbed as she felt; Master La'altac had a gentle, almost wistful look in his blue eyes.
The little Jedi barked a laugh, planted a hoof in Tirien's chest, and launched herself backward, landing on her hooves with a clip-clop. Tirien laughed again, then a third time as he caught sight of Narasi's expression of blank incomprehension. "Harshee, this is my Padawan, Narasi Rican. Narasi, this is Harshee Nefkin."
Harshee looked at Narasi, and though her face was distinctly non-Human, Narasi thought she recognized what passed through the woman's eyes; distaste and distrust, she reflected with a touch of bitterness, were universal.
"Rican…" Harshee mused. "Sounds familiar…"
Narasi clenched her jaw, struggling to keep her face level as sudden terror rippled through her. Oh, Force, please no…
After a moment Harshee shrugged, apparently not coming up with anything. "Eh. Anyway, good to meet you, Narasi."
Narasi was fairly certain the little Jedi hadn't said her name with as much happiness as Tirien's, but she wasn't going to embarrass her master, and she was too relieved to dwell on it. Bowing, she said, "Master Nefkin."
The woman snorted. "I'm no Master, kid. Just a wandering Knight popping in for a visit."
"It's good to see you, Harshee," Tirien said before Narasi could reply.
Harshee recovered her grin. "It's been too long, Tirien. Last time I saw you, you were…well, still taller than me." She laughed. "But not by nearly as much. Heard you've become quite the hero."
Tirien donned the dry look with which Narasi was more familiar. "I do what I can."
"Ah, but can you do what I can't?" Harshee quipped.
Tirien looked curious, but Master La'altac gently cleared his throat. Waiting until the Knights and Narasi turned, the Caamasi said, "That's why we've called for you, Tirien. Harshee has come aboard with a task for which we think you're particularly well-suited."
That captured Narasi's attention completely. The Council finally had a mission for them. She felt a burst of excitement, then tried instinctively to smother it before she remembered Master Kadych wasn't here to lift it out of her mind and subject her to his cold-eyed scrutiny.
Her own master looked more thoughtful. "If a Knight like Harshee couldn't handle it, I'm not sure what more we can do."
Shut up, Master! Narasi wanted to groan. The Council was about to let them off the Crescentia for the first time in three months! She was prepared to assure the Council Masters she and Tirien could take down the Council of Five if it got them the stamp of approval to use the Second Chance for more than private chats.
"A tool for every task, Tirien," Harshee told him. "You've got an edge I don't."
Narasi saw the Council Masters nodding thoughtfully. Tirien asked, "What's the mission?"
"Recruitment," said Master Thifrieu.
Narasi could tell Tirien shared her surprise, though he concealed it better as he looked down at Harshee Nefkin again before returning his gaze to the Masters. "I've never done a recruitment mission before, Masters; I'll do my best, of course, but I don't know that I have an edge."
"I do," Harshee said. "The kid's Pantoran."
Narasi looked up at her master, watching his politely blank expression dissolve into a look she found hard to read. "On Pantora itself?"
"You people don't have any colonies, do you?" Harshee replied. "Not in my area of space, anyway."
"Your area?" Narasi asked.
Harshee nodded. "Jedi Watchman. I've got my own little corner of space to keep an eye on. I let Tirien handle the pan-galactic heroics; my region's enough to be getting along with."
"You…oh. Kinda like…?" She trailed off at Tirien's cautioning look. She figured his quick mind had raced ahead to the end of the sentence; like the Corellian Jedi was the comparison on the tip of her tongue, but she reflected that might be a touchy subject.
"Like…?" Harshee said, not letting her go, but Tirien came to her rescue.
"Pantora," he said. "I see your point, although I haven't been back since I was recruited."
"Nonetheless," Human Master Godogon replied, "your people are very proud, and insular too. They may respond better to one of their own."
"I'm still amazed I got you off that world," Harshee said with a chuckle.
Narasi stared, uncomprehending, until Tirien spared her a look. A wistful smile touched his lips, even reaching his eyes. "Harshee was the Jedi Knight who recruited me."
Narasi's eyes widened. She turned her gaze on Harshee, and suddenly she didn't want to race off the Crescentia. She still wanted to go, but first she wanted an hour or two with this tiny Jedi—ideally without Tirien—to learn a whole history Tirien had never told her. She felt her own hypocrisy every time she tried to get something about his past out of him, but his casual reticence still fed her curiosity…
"And now you can pay forward that service to the Jedi Order," Master Thifrieu suggested.
"Where on Pantora?" Tirien asked; Narasi was still gazing at Harshee, but she heard an unusual edge to her master's words.
It seemed to mean more to Harshee than it did to her. "Lowlands. The capital, actually. I'll send all the info I have to your datapad."
Tirien nodded, his yellow eyes distant for a second before he recovered himself and looked at Master La'altac. "We're ready to leave at your command, Master."
"We leave it to you, then," the Caamasi said. "May the Force be with you both. Harshee, if you wouldn't mind staying a moment…"
The little Jedi laughed, and Narasi stared. "No, I'm not going to swing by Coruscant, Multiqi. It's not on my way."
Narasi saw Master Godogon frown, but Tirien took her by the shoulder and steered her from the room before she could see the rest of the conversation. She started down the corridor back toward the hangar bay, but stopped when she saw her master leaning on the wall outside the Council chamber. "Master?"
"Give it a minute," he advised with a wry smile.
Sure enough, it wasn't much longer before the doors opened again and Harshee Nefkin clip-clopped out. Tirien shifted his weight to rock off the wall and started down the corridor side-by-side with Harshee, Narasi tagging along a step behind.
"Still not playing well with others?" Tirien asked.
"This from you," Harshee teased, and Narasi was amazed to hear her master laugh again. The small Jedi continued, "I send new recruits back to the hierarchy, let them be happy with that."
Tirien rolled his eyes as Harshee looked over her shoulder at Narasi, then back up at Tirien. "Both of you going to Pantora…might be tougher that way."
Tirien nodded evenly, but he said, "It may, but Narasi's my Padawan. We'll figure it out."
Narasi pressed her lips together, feeling torn; she did not want to deal with sideways looks and distrustful glances, but nor did she want to miss out on the chance to learn more about her master, especially since they were going to his homeworld. She found herself asking, "Are you coming with us, Master Nefkin?"
"Still not a Master," Harshee chided. "And no, I've got to get back. Things are hot these days."
"What's going on?" Tirien asked.
"It's been hell since Karr Shadeez died," Harshee said. Narasi winced and one corner of Tirien's mouth twitched down, but Harshee continued, "Hadan's probing the neighborhood; I guess she got Ryloth sorted out. But the Hutts have sent some scouts down too, and there have been some Zygerrian raids, too."
Neither of them looked back, but Narasi still felt a chill. "What are they doing down there?!" she demanded. She had crammed information about Pantorans early in her apprenticeship, and she recalled Pantora being stuck in an obscure edge of the galaxy. "That's half the galaxy away from Zygerria!"
This time Harshee did look at her. "Between the Hutts and the Sith, the Outer Rim's a playground for your people these—"
"They are not my people!" Narasi snarled, fangs bared.
Tirien slowed to a halt, sighed once, then turned to face her. The expression of disappointment on his face smothered the fire in her, and Narasi's ears backed in humiliation. She forced herself to meet Harshee's eyes. "I'm sorry."
The little Jedi shrugged and gave her a pat on the arm; she had enough strength that Narasi had to catch her balance. "Don't worry about it, kid. I wouldn't want to be associated with them either."
That didn't make Narasi feel any better, but she looked up at Tirien. Harshee's near hit memory had brought her touchiness closer to the surface, but that wasn't an excuse she could offer, and Tirien rarely reacted well to excuses unless he asked for them anyway. He held her gaze just long enough that she felt about as tall as Harshee, then turned and continued down the hall. "Will you have dinner with me, at least?"
Me, not us. That stung even worse than the silent rebuke, and it was the opposite of what she wanted. It hurt to be excluded, especially when Tirien had made a point of including her only moments before, and if Harshee's memory suddenly improved when Narasi wasn't there…
"Can't," Harshee said. "Lotta worlds out there, and only one little me to keep watch over them."
Tirien smiled faintly as Narasi breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, as Narasi is fond of reminding me, the war's not going to fight itself," he observed. "We'll have to do it another time."
"And we will," Harshee started, then they said in unison, "when the war is won."
They both chuckled, and Narasi again felt like an outsider. She had thought she knew Tirien, if not well, then at least better than any other Jedi. It was disconcerting to be so very wrong.
"May the Force be with you, Harshee."
"There's work to be done," she replied with a smile, "so go do it."
She left them, and Tirien looked at Narasi, smoothing his face into expressionlessness. "Go pack your things and meet me at the Second Chance. Grab a coat, Pantora will be cold for you."
"Yes, Master," she answered, not quite meeting his eyes.
It took little enough time to throw her few belongings into a backpack. She had never taken her coat off the hook on her wall since she had hung it there beside a holo of herself and Kara Rynt, but she shook it out and draped it over one arm. She reached for her door's control, then stopped herself, taking a breath. Tirien would be able to sense her agitation if she didn't get a handle on it, and he wouldn't have the Second Chance running yet…
She took a moment for Empty Meditation, trying to purge out her anxiety and annoyance. When she felt a little better, she opened the door and found Harshee Nefkin waiting for her.
"Uh…hi," Narasi said as she stepped into the hall. She looked around, but the corridor was deserted.
"Just us," Harshee assured her.
"Did you decide to come with us after all?" Narasi asked, not sure which answer she wanted.
"No," Harshee said, "but I did remember where I heard the name 'Rican' before."
So much for feeling better; whatever answer Narasi had wanted, it wasn't that. She felt herself pale, knowing she was giving away any chance to talk her way out of it but too sandbagged to even try to rally a counterargument. Tirien would have known the words, would have had a way of twisting the conversation the way he wanted it to go…
Harshee looked up at her, brushing her muzzle with one hand. "Have you told Tirien?"
Narasi tried to speak, but ultimately just shook her head. When Harshee didn't reply, Narasi finally found her voice. "Are you going to tell him?"
"No."
Narasi breathed a sigh of relief. Harshee looked at her, then clip-clopped over. "Tirien trusts you, and he's not one to trust easily, so if he does you must be all right. And if you're a Jedi, then you're definitely not your father."
Narasi flinched, but Harshee reached up and poked her in the stomach, hard enough to be painful. "You might think about trusting Tirien back one of these days. Just a thought. Now get going."
She headed off down the corridor, and Narasi took a different way toward the hangar bay, jogging to get there sooner. Harshee's advice frightened her…but at the same time it was a little tempting. Maybe it would make her feel better…but maybe not.
One of these days.