Chương 18: The Awkward Ride Home

"GO!" vod yells, voice cracking in fear. He listens. He runs, cursing his cowardice, cursing his vod for not following right behind him, his mother, his family, his clan. But more than them, he curses the dar'manda kyr'tsadiise for attacking his family's farm. The Fetts had done nothing but open their doors to any who was wounded. The terrible pulses of blaster fire chase him, ring around him as he runs through the tall grass, barely seeing, barely breathing through the choking tears.

Deep, deep in his soul he knows he is the last Fett. His bui'tsad had been cut down until only he remained. He fell, and when he looked up – – – She was having fun, even though this was the hardest fight of her life. Her Master trusted her, and they had managed to fight their way through the ship into a hallway leading to the cargo hold. Nonlethally neutralizing the mutineers was difficult, but that just made the thrill more intense.

A midair Ataru leap inspired by her Master's training brother, Qui-Gon, brings her behind a group of mutineers who she disarms with ease before rushing into the cargo hold itself. Again, she leaps above a hail of blaster fire, noting her Master's offensive on the other side of the hold before dropping back to the floor.

Sure and fast movements see her push through four more organics, before she hears her Master's shout and notes the flash of a droid's raised arm and feels a pinch on the side of her neck and suddenly – her body is not her own. It turns her towards her Master, saber ready. Her panic spikes in the Force.

"Nim!" Her Master shouts at her again, but all she can do is watch helplessly as her feet drag her closer to where her Master is pinned down by blaster fire.

In growing horror, she watches as her own blade is raised in an attack and there's nothing she can but she sees the indecision fade from her Master's eyes as he realizes like she has that he can't defend against a lightsaber and all these blasters and their eyes meet and all she can do is shout and scream in her head and then his blue blade is slashing and she cries out alone in her mind "NO!"

– – – ~*~*~*~ 59 BBY – 941 ARR – Alderaan He felt the faint jolt of a transition into hyperspace, but didn't react, staring sightlessly at the blank durasteel above his bunk as thoughts raced through his head. The Council had recalled him and Master Nu almost immediately after the gala, which they had expected and already been packing for. Miriam had decided to just return straight to Polis Massa. Neither he nor his master had said much, either. Both in shock, he thinks. He knows he was. Is.

There's a knock on the door and a faint brush in the Force. He closes his eyes. Opens them again.

"Enter." Master Nu steps in and sits on his bunk. She doesn't say anything.

"Did we do the wrong thing?"

"With the information available, I think we chose to do a courageous thing. But there will be consequences for our actions."

"What kinds of consequences?"

"Not good ones. But we shall persevere. There is no alternative, my padawan." Master Nu offered him a crooked smile that seemed more weary than anything else. They sat there for a bit, each contemplating very interesting blank spots of the bulkhead. They both knew that there would be consequences for what had taken place at the gala. At the very least, the High Council would be very displeased that they had directly disobeyed orders to inform the Queen of the threat to her rule.

The Organas were one of the Order's most ancient allies, and anything that jeopardized that relationship had such far-reaching ramifications, it was almost impossible to predict the damage they might have done. Internally, Rann knew what he might have just done, and was falling into a black pit of despair. Bail Organa had been one of the single-most noble and just people in Star Wars from the Clone Wars-era onward.

During that conflict, he had helped to coordinate efforts in housing refugees, led the resistance of Palpatine's ever-growing emergency powers, and helped at several critical points to resolve the conflict. During the Jedi Purge, he had helped numerous Jedi, including Obi-Wan and Yoda, escape. Afterwards, he had been key in organizing the Rebellion, not to mention actually raising Leia Organa.

Now, Rann might have just torpedoed Bail's potential political career and salted the earth as far as his feelings towards Jedi go. All this, of course, ignored the way the creepy Muun Rann knew was secretly Darth karking Plagueis was staring at him. He didn't even know what that was about, or even what it would mean going forward. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"Rann, this… debacle is my error, and has come to pass largely due to my actions and prejudices."

"What?" He looked over at his Master, who was still looking at the wall.

"Looking back on the events of last night, Queen Serenne likely knew of the conspiracy but felt unable to act on it." She turned to look at him now, placing a hand gingerly on his knee.

"Our informing her when we did was too fortuitous for her not to act. We afforded her the opportunity to discredit her enemies on a galactic stage and legitimize her claims with our Order's good name."

"So I blew the powder keg," he said, voice flat and drained.

"Encouraging you to meet with your parents with the implicit purpose of passing along our suspicions was improper."

"I chose to do that of my own free will," he retorted.

"Rann," she sighed.

"I am the master, and you are the padawan. In telling you to meet with them, I assumed responsibility."

"Hmm." By mutual undeclared agreement, they decided to drop the conversation and resume their inspection of the bulkheads. But Rann had more questions left over from the gala.

"Master Nu," he began again, unsure how to ask what he wanted to.

"Are you and Miriam… close?" She gave him a sidelong look, before answering slowly, "You could certainly say that, yes. She was my aide for quite some time before taking her current post."

"You seemed a bit closer than that." He rolled his eyes, knowing she despised when he did that. It just made its infrequent use that much more effective. She huffed.

"Well, if you must know. Yes, Rann, we are quite close. I may have… invited her for tea a time or two." He flashed a brief smile at her, before furrowing his brows.

"I thought such relationships are forbidden?" The Order had a very clear "no relationships" policy. Or at least it's what senior initiates were taught. They were, of course, given very thorough lectures on biology, reproduction and its various methods of prevention, and then essentially told that abstinence was the best policy to prevent the perils of attachment.

It reflected a lot of the other lessons from the Creche, really, that all focused around how to interact with the galaxy in a way that minimized the risk posed by attachment.

"That is a somewhat… difficult question." Master Nu seemed to be searching for words, careful in her reply.

"The Order does not prevent members from entering into relationships. It is expected that padawans will have their youthful indiscretions, after all. But all Jedi should be wary of forming attachments that could drag them away from the ideals of the Code, or worse, towards the Dark. It is therefore accepted that seasoned Knights and Masters might… become close, but understand the perils involved. It is their responsibility to mitigate them.

This is not a formal practice, you understand, and it is best to keep one's affairs discreet, but it is accepted practice."

"Huh." Rann thought it over, before coming to another obvious question.

"Then why did Miriam take the assignment on Polis Massa?" She sighed heavily.

"Because even though it is accepted one can have discreet, non-attached relationships, it is entirely unacceptable to form anything resembling a family. For me to accept you as a padawan meant that Miriam and I would need some distance from each other to avoid others from casting doubts." She must have sensed his emotional turbulence in the Force, because she was quick to assure him.

"Rann, this was not a hardship. Miriam said that as soon as she saw us reading together in the Archives, she knew you would be my padawan. We both knew that if you were to be a part of our lives, there would be difficulties involved. And besides, she had been wanting to return to the field. Despite her talents as an administrator, she did not overly enjoy the technical aspects of being my aide. Your becoming my padawan just provided a definite date for her to return to archaeology."

"Oh." They lapsed back into silence as Rann absorbed his master's words. He knew, of course, that she had to have a life before him and lots of friends and interpersonal connections. But he hadn't really considered what that meant, or how he affected these relationships. Now he wondered if Nu stayed in frequent contact with Miriam, or if she still talked with her old master, Yaddle. He didn't really know, outside of what he saw.

Of course, his thoughts circled back to the more immediate consequences of their adventures on Alderaan.

"Master Nu?"

"Yes?"

"How much trouble will we be in?"

"Quite a bit, I would say."

"Oh." ~*~*~ Master Nu and Rann were tense as their craft landed in the Temple's hangar bay. Just as Nu had predicted, they were immediately summoned to Oppo Rancisis' office. The journey to and up the Spire of Reconciliation was nerve-wracking. Through their bond and in her comportment, Rann sensed absolutely no unease in his Master. Just a sense of calm resignation. After a few minutes of waiting, a faint chime let them in.

The congenial air of their first meeting was gone, replaced by deep, uncomfortable near-silence marked only by Rann and Nu's shuffling into chairs opposite the councilor's desk, and the faint rasp of Oppo's shifting coils. Though much of his face was hidden by wispy white hair, his eyes, which were currently angry slits, were still visible.

"Well?" Oppo Rancisis all but hissed. Silence.

"I sent you on a mission to attend the opening of a museum exhibit. Perhaps one of the easiest things any padawan-master pair has ever been tasked with. Somehow, you managed to uncover a conspiracy implicating several of the Great Houses and the throne of one of the most important planets in the Republic. Instead of allowing the High Council – or me – time to formulate a proper response to this, you decided to blow this wide open – after receiving explicit instructions not to do so.

I give you a nice, easy mission and you lob a thermal grenade at me." By the end of his speech Oppo is ranting more than lecturing. The faint rasping of shifting coils has grown louder, and Rann's hindbrain has begun to tweak him about the threat display of the incredibly large and agitated reptile before him. Still, the Thisspiasian has not raised his voice, too much of a professional for that.

"I'm sorry, Master Rancisis," Rann mutters quietly.

"For the trouble we've caused you."

"Tell me, Rann. Would you do it again?" Rann and Master Nu don't even have to look at each other. In five years of knowing her, he's never felt closer.

"Yes." They chorus. Oppo just sighs.