Star Wars, page 13
Captain Mar’Ti didn’t seem sure what to make of this. “Not everybody in the Guild was the kind of individual I’d want to ally myself to without some oversight.”
“We don’t have to go to everyone. And not everyone we go to will say yes. But we can still create a team. We can still be there for each other. We can do more together than we ever could alone.” Affie put out her hand, aware that it might just be left there untouched. “What do you say, Mar’Ti?”
The Kaleesh thought about this for a long second—just long enough for it to feel extremely awkward—and then took Affie’s hand in her scaly one to shake. “Buy me a drink, and let’s talk details.”
Affie could feel the grin spreading across her face, and saw it reflected in Leox. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
“Vernestra, where’s Imri?”
Jedi Knight Vernestra Rwoh looked toward the voice, smoke making her eyes water, alarms screaming as everything began to fall apart. Fear radiated from everywhere within Starlight Beacon, and Vernestra had to shut it all out. She had to get the people with her to safety.
Jedi Knight Lyssa Votz had drawn her lightsaber to slice through a crumpled bulkhead. The station was beginning to fall apart in earnest, every single failsafe in ruins, and in a few more minutes escape would be futile. But Vernestra couldn’t think about that or the way she felt disconnected from the Force. She had a job to do, to help dozens of people trapped on Starlight with her to the escape pods. And that was what she would do.
Everything else was just noise.
“I’m not sure,” Vernestra finally said, clearing the last of the obstacles in their way so the path to the escape pods was clear. “I can’t. . .I can’t feel anyone. Or anything.”
Lyssa turned and looked at Vernestra, her eyes empty pits, her smile cruel. “That’s because they’re all dead. You left your Padawan and master to die. You could’ve saved Stellan. And Imri. Not to mention Avon and her droid. But they are gone forever. All because you were too busy being a hero, a Jedi. You let everyone down. I hope it was worth it.”
Vernestra startled awake, or at least out of the dream that she’d been having. It wasn’t a vision, thank the stars, just a regular old garden-variety nightmare. It was the calm she felt afterward that always let Vernestra know whether she’d just had a vision or a dream. Her dreams about the fall of Starlight Beacon were loud, overwhelmed with feelings and distress, leaving her heart pounding and her palms slicked with sweat from half-remembered fears. But her visions had no such trauma connected to them. Instead, they were cool, rational things, images and ideas merged into something that was less direct and more metaphorical.
That was why it always hurt to see someone she knew in those moments and then hear the cacophony of screams and terror as Starlight began to fall. Because then she knew she was dreaming a false memory and not seeing a vision of a true thing.
She hadn’t even been on Starlight Beacon when the Nihil had worked their sabotage. And neither had Lyssa. Instead they’d both been with the team on Eiram, helping to rebuild desalinization plants and negotiate minutiae with local officials. It wasn’t until things had already gone wrong, with the station plunging into the ocean and the distress calls coming in earnest, that she’d been able to render any assistance to anyone. But not Imri Cantaros, her Padawan. And certainly not Stellan Gios, her master. And Avon and J-6? Not them, either.
And now they were all gone, along with everyone else left on the station when it went down.
She should have been there.
She should have been able to help.
She should have been better.
Vernestra sat up and rubbed her face, scrubbing away the last of the nightmare. She sat in the narrow bunk that had been the only accommodation available on the ship. The nice thing about being a Jedi, even one who was plainly dressed, was that few people were likely to turn down her request for a ride, especially with the Nihil all but invincible. The pirates were still raiding all over the frontier, but now they could escape behind the impenetrable wall of their Occlusion Zone. A Jedi on board no doubt seemed like a promise of safety, even if Vernestra knew it for the lie it was.
For the first few weeks after Starlight fell, Vernestra had participated in those missions, eager to bring the villains to justice. She and Lyssa and a handful of other Jedi had run to and fro across the galaxy, responding to reports of Nihil attacks, rendering aid where necessary, and giving comfort when they were too late, so often too late. But the Stormwall of the Occlusion Zone was truly a marvel, disrupting hyperspace and sending those who tried to circumvent it to their fiery deaths or stranding them to freeze and starve in the depths of empty space. There was no way to safely navigate hyperspace when it was active. So the Jedi offensive against the Nihil became endless attempts that more often than not resulted in failure.
At some point Vernestra had decided it was all a waste of time, of her efforts. It wasn’t often that she disagreed with the Order, but in the end, after a particularly awful battle near Genetia, Vernestra had had enough. The Jedi Order was lost, fighting the Nihil had to be left to the Republic, and at some point they would find their way again. But in the meantime, she was tired and grieving. It took too much to hold herself together and keep fighting, and in the end her heart wasn’t in it. So she’d decided enough was enough. She would follow the will of the Force, not the Order. She would follow the path of a Wayseeker, letting the Force dictate her moves even if the Order had not given its blessing. And so Vernestra had bid Lyssa farewell on Genetia and struck out on her own.
Lucky for Vernestra, the Jedi Council had much more pressing issues to handle and no one seemed to miss her presence all that much. Which was just as the Force must have wanted it.
For the past few months, that was exactly what she’d been doing. At first Vernestra thought perhaps the Force would take her along the Path given to her by Mari San Tekka—the savant the Nihil had used to forge their chaotic routes through hyperspace—because after so many months living with the information in her head, she had become convinced it was a Nihil Path, but the coordinates made no sense when she gave them to the Devaronian captain of the first ship she’d boarded. Since then she had kept her own counsel and let the Force dictate her movements.
Which was how she’d ended up on a ship bound for Miekos, a small out-of-the-way planet on the edge of Wild Space. Far from the Nihil, the Order, and the memories of watching Starlight fall from the sky.
“You awake, Jedi?” called the other person in the cabin, a human woman with a hard expression and too many lines on her face for her tender age, which seemed to be early twenties—even though human ages could be hard to discern. The woman had told Vernestra that she was running away from an unwanted marriage, but Vernestra got the sense that was only part of the truth. The woman’s emotions were a chaotic maelstrom of regret and anger, and Vernestra understood those feelings all too well.
“Yes, I am awake. Are we here?”
“Just left hyperspace,” the woman said, standing with a groan. She was heavily pregnant, her middle distended, and Vernestra had offered to meditate with her to help ease some of the tension in her body. The woman, who had never seen fit to share her name, had refused.
The conversation made Vernestra miss Avon Starros. Her young friend would’ve been annoyed at being told to meditate, as well.
Vernestra stretched and yawned. No further chitchat with her cabinmate was required, and Vernestra wasn’t one to pry. She thanked her and wished her well before grabbing her knapsack of belongings and heading out to the main passenger area.
The central area of the ship contained a galley, several communication units, and plenty of seating. The ship wasn’t a hauler like most of the craft Vernestra had traveled on. Rather, it was a luxury hopper that had fallen at some point onto hard times, and so had most of its clientele. That suited Vernestra just fine. She had come to appreciate people who could mind their own business.
Vernestra watched the other passengers getting ready to disembark. There was a family of Nautolans, their many offspring bickering over some toy. There was the pregnant woman who had been Vernestra’s roommate for the trip, with an older Togruta woman exclaiming over her belly and making the hard expression on the human woman’s face soften. And then there was a trio of Pippyrians, their furred faces slightly unkempt, as though they were overdue for a trim.
Vernestra closed her eyes and let the life all around her wash over and through her, taking comfort in the sight of so many people at relative peace.
She felt the danger a second later, her eyes snapping open as she tried to figure out where it was coming from. Then she saw a Duros man clutching a blaster. He approached from one of the hallways that led to the crew quarters and pulled his hand from his jacket to point a blaster right at the pregnant woman.
Vernestra threw her hand up, sending the man reeling backward and pinning him against a nearby bulkhead. Gasps went through the room, and before Vernestra could react, the pregnant woman grabbed the Togruta woman and held a vibroblade to her throat.
“Not so fast, Jedi. Let him go or I kill her.”
Vernestra looked from the Duros man to the Togruta woman and realized that he’d been aiming not for the pregnant human but the older woman. No matter.
Vernestra threw the Duros man across the room, slamming him hard into a stack of crates. Before the human woman could move, Vernestra reached for her lightsaber, drawing it and powering it up. The human woman laughed.
“What are you going to do with that, Jedi?” she snarled. Vernestra said nothing, just twisted the bezel so the blade transformed into a whip. Then—her eyes locked on the human woman’s—she flicked the hilt just so. The blade whispered over the hand holding the vibroblade, the stink of burning skin filling the space. The human woman screamed, and her hand fell to the deck of the ship, the wound cauterized.
Vernestra calmly powered down and holstered her lightsaber. She wanted to feel sorry for the woman whose hand she’d just taken, but all she felt was tired. And the attack was not yet complete. A Devaronian woman threw a knife at the old Togruta woman, who caught it, flipped it around, and threw it back, burying the blade in the Devaronian’s shoulder.
Vernestra blinked in surprise as the Togruta woman put her hand to her forehead and collapsed to the ground.
“Oh, oh,” the woman said as members of the crew moved in to secure the assailants. One of the Pippyrians helped the Togruta woman up, and Vernestra realized no one had seen her catch the knife and throw it. They’d all been too distracted by the pregnant woman’s hand lying on the ground.
And the old woman wasn’t about to give up the game. She leaned heavily on the Pippyrian. “Thank you! Thank you,” she said. “Oh, thank you. What a terrible episode. This is much too much for an old woman.”
A few more crew members rushed in at that point, helping the security team haul away the assassins. Once they were taken away, most likely to spend the rest of their trip in the brig, Vernestra turned back to the older Togruta woman. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, but only thanks to you.”
Vernestra studied the woman. Her head-tails were wrinkled with age, her orange skin appeared more yellow, and her face was deeply lined. “So, mind telling me what that was back there?”
“Well, I expect they might be part of that group who have been terrorizing the galaxy. The Nil?”
“Nihil,” Vernestra corrected, without thinking. “And I’m not sure about that. It seemed like they wanted you dead in particular?”
The old woman smiled like she had a secret. “I wasn’t sure, because you aren’t wearing the robes, but you seem like you might be a Jedi. Unless lightsabers are now available for sale in the local marketplace?”
Vernestra stiffened. “I’m a lot of things, actually.” Once, she’d worn her affiliation like a badge of honor. Now it felt odd, like a title she hadn’t earned. Because maybe she hadn’t. Or at the least, it wasn’t a title she deserved.
But the elderly Togruta woman didn’t notice Vernestra’s discomfort. Or if she did, she chose to ignore it. “As am I. We all contain multitudes. Trust me when I say it is a long and silly story, and telling you will only put you in further danger. But I see now that I will never make it to my destination without some help. I am happy to pay you to help me get to Vado’s Peak. It’s a hard trip to make, dangerous, so I will compensate you handsomely.”
Vernestra shook her head, but then stopped. She’d had no plan when she’d boarded the ship. She’d only chosen this transport over another because something had nudged her ever so slightly toward it. And now that same feeling tugged her toward the old woman.
“I cannot accept your money, but I am happy to accompany you. I am Vernestra Rwoh.”
“Tanabi Yar, and I am relieved and glad to make your acquaintance.”
They landed not much later, and everyone seemed in a hurry to escape the confines of the ship. Vernestra could understand why. There was nothing like an act of violence to ruin an otherwise good day.
Tanabi waited until everyone else had disembarked before hobbling down the boarding ramp. Vernestra held out an arm, and the old woman took it gratefully.
“I’m afraid I’m not quite as spry as I used to be,” she said with a chuckle. A Togruta man waited in the rudimentary spaceport, and he frowned when he saw Vernestra.
“Mother, why didn’t you say that you needed help getting here?”
The older woman laughed and waved away his concern. “I was fine until right there at the end. Then I suddenly remembered that I am entirely too old for travel,” she said with a smile. “Vernestra, this is my son, Noparo Yar. Noparo, Vernestra Rwoh. My care nurse.”
Vernestra gave the man a polite nod but said nothing. She wouldn’t call out Tanabi’s falsehood, but she was intrigued that she would lie to her own son. There was something off about the whole situation, but Vernestra could still sense that this was where she was supposed to be and protecting the old woman was important.
She just really wanted to understand why.
Noparo bowed to Vernestra and smiled. “Delightful. My landspeeder is this way. If you can make it, Mother? It’s quite a ways to the homestead. I’ll let Fee-Na, my wife, know that we’re expecting one more.”
The old woman nodded, and they made their slow way out of the spaceport and to a decrepit landspeeder in silence.
No one spoke during the trip to Noparo’s homestead. Vernestra was used to long stretches of silence, so the lack of conversation did not bother her. It gave her time to study the landscape. Miekos was mostly inky-hued water, shallow marshes, and islets that teemed with strange life—birds and fish that seemed to leap out of the water, chasing insects that were too small to see at a distance. The homes appeared to float atop woven mats that lay over the marshes.
“The marsh grass is surprisingly sturdy,” Noparo said when he noticed Vernestra studying the nearby grasses. “The blades grow together into incredibly dense masses, like land but made of organic material. We build our dwellings on top.”
Vernestra nodded. “Do you farm here?”
“Yes, in a way. We mostly raise fish. Thana and nosna, and most varieties of scalefish. We trade with many of the planets on the frontier, by way of the local shipping guild. Miekos was originally a San Tekka settlement, until they realized it would never be profitable, and then they signed land agreements with most of the farmers here. For the most part, the galaxy leaves us to our own devices.”
The landspeeder began to slow as they reached the outskirts of a small town. Squat, flat-roofed buildings made of blocks of tightly woven marsh grass made up the majority of the structures, and Togruta of all ages walked along with Mirialans, Nautolans, humans, and others. Miekos might have once been a San Tekka colony, but its population was as diverse as any other place Vernestra had been.
But the residents all had a desperate look to them, and most everyone was incredibly thin. Their clothes were threadbare, and many of the buildings looked like they were in need of repairs. Miekos was a beautiful place, but it was clear the population wasn’t doing so well.
They drove past the town and farther out until the houses grew fewer and farther between. Noparo then swung the speeder past a series of large ponds, and as he drove by he called out the names of the fish being raised in each one.
Vernestra snuck a glance at Tanabi, but the old woman had her eyes closed, a serene smile on her face. She didn’t look like a woman someone wanted to kill. She looked like an elderly woman who should be enjoying her retirement.
They pulled up to the family homestead not long after that. Vernestra helped Tanabi climb out of the speeder, using the Force to assist but hopefully in a way that Noparo did not notice. A friendly Nautolan woman waved them into the house and then rested her forehead against Noparo’s in a clear sign of affection.
“This is my wife, Fee-Na,” Noparo said. “Fee-Na, I’d love for you to meet my mother, and this is her nursemaid, Vernestra. Let me get the bags while you all get settled.”
“Welcome! You must be tired and hungry after your travels. Would you like something to eat?”
Tanabi shook her head, and Vernestra realized she wasn’t that hungry, either. But she was tired.
“Perhaps just some time to rest first?” Tanabi said, and Vernestra nodded along in agreement.
“Okay, great!” Fee-Na said. “I’ve already had beds made up for you. If you’ll follow me?”
Vernestra and Tanabi followed Fee-Na down a long hallway toward the guest room. Fee-Na gave an apologetic smile when she gestured to the sleeping pallet next to the bed that dominated the room.
“I apologize, Vernestra. I didn’t know you’d be staying with us, as well, until a short while ago—”
“This is perfect. Thank you,” Vernestra said, smiling.
Fee-Na watched her for a long moment with her black eyes before smiling and nodding. Noparo appeared with Tanabi’s bag and put it inside the room before nuzzling his mother affectionately and returning the way he’d come.
