Beyond the Last Illusion
Chapter 1
An excerpt from the Life and Teachings of Chakora Seva - Jedi Temple archive text.
One day the master proposed the following riddle to his students.
"There once were three men, who having fled their pursuing enemies to the very edge of an unknown wilderness, perceived that their foes would soon find and destroy them if they did not act quickly. They decided to part ways, each choosing his own path of escape, in the hope that at least one of them would survive. The first man followed a path straight back toward his enemies, reasoning that this was the course of action they would least expect. The second saw tall trees standing all round and climbed into the greatest of these, because he could from thence see his opponents' approach, and had a fine vantage point from which to throw projectiles or launch an ambush. The third man crept further into the wilderness, as quietly as he could, until he found a dark, deep cave well fortified and easy to defend, for it had but one entrance surrounded by large stones. Now, I ask you, which of these three men chose most wisely?"
The students, having heard this puzzle, were eager to test their answers. One called out, "The first man, master: for he chose to hide himself in the element of surprise, which is the subtlest of disguises."
Master Seva shook his head sadly. "No," he corrected the pupil. "Not even the advantage granted by surprise is sufficient to overcome the folly of overconfidence. This man was indeed foolish in his choice."
The students then consulted with each other, and at length another ventured to speak. "Master," he said. "Surely the wisest was the second man, he who climbed into the tall tree. For he used what was at hand and sought no further, which is the mark of true cunning."
Again the master shook his head. "Alas," he remarked. "That which is given has both a smiling and a scowling aspect. Every advantage is itself a weakness. For the tree which gave him such far reaching vision and the power to drop missiles on his enemies' heads could also be cut down or set to burn. This man also chose a path of folly."
Confident now that they had the right answer, the students cried out with one voice, "The third man was the wisest, then."
Master Seva laughed. "What?" he exclaimed. "Not at all. That man was the greatest fool of all – for the cave in which he sheltered was a gundark's lair."
Lady Satine Kryze frowned over the text a moment longer and then tried to move the datareader's display to the next page; but she could find no control mechanism, either on the device itself or on the illuminated page of the screen. She could not even discern how to turn the thing off. Laying the small gadget aside where she had found it, she sighed. Likely enough it could only be manipulated by a Force-user….and that was surely something she was not, whatever else she might or might not be.
She turned instead to the small viewport set into the ship's hull – a mere slit in the thick bulkheads of the passenger transport, a tiny crack in the timeless, placeless interior of the freighter, a spy-hole which peered out upon the equally timeless, placeless sworls of a hyperspace tunnel. How long now until they reverted again? Hours? Days? Years? How long had it been since they had fled Mandalore, in fear of discovery – in uncertain, unresolved hope that they would not be followed this time? How long had it been since she had slept peacefully – or since she had slept at all? A pang of envy bade her tear her melancholy gaze away from the narrow viewport to regard her traveling companion, or bodyguard. He was fast asleep.
Not that this disturbed her. She knew now from months of experience that he could keep an effective watch even while unconscious. Like the legendary sleeping draigon, which was rumored always to slumber with one eye open, the Jedi could sense what was happening in the waking world even while they trod the path of their dreams. Was he dreaming about the text left open on the datareader, which had dropped unnoticed to the deck beside the ship's hard, economy class berth? Or some pleasanter place, some escape from the harsh conditions of their prolonged exile? Or of the two mercenaries he had ruthlessly, elegantly cut down with his saber outside the ravaged city of Tevlonia? Because the Jedi, despite their self-claimed title of "peace-keepers," could also be killers. She had seen it, seen the cool detachment from human sentiment, seen the impossibly deadly skill, heard the feeble excuse that the action had been necessary to save her life.
She hated him for killing the two villains. She was opposed to all violence, on principle. And he had acted in outright defiance of her principles, even going so far as to mock her. What had he said? "Our mandate is to preserve your life, my lady – not your sensibilities." Arrogant, intolerable Jedi. She hated him so much, so very much, that her hand crept of its own accord to trace a line from his temple, over high cheekbones, all the way along the familiar jawline. He did not even stir.
The door slid open behind her and absurdly, impulsively, she spun round as though caught in some guilty act. "Master Jinn," she greeted the newcomer – an immensely tall man in his mid-fifties, possessed of a commanding yet gentle demeanor. He ducked beneath the low doorframe and entered the cabin, sweeping his sharp blue-grey eyes over the entire space. His hand rested casually on something hard jutting beneath his plain, frayed duster. She knew it to be the hilt of a lightsaber.
"I have searched the entire ship – including the docking bays – but I have found no sign of our friends. It is possible they did not reach the last refueling station in time to board. If that is so, we are fortunate indeed."
"What do you mean, if that is so?" Satine asked. "Wouldn't you sense if they were here?"
The fine lines around Qui Gon Jinn's mouth deepened slightly, hinting at humorous empathy. He understood how tense she was, how badly she craved an absolute confirmation that they were safe. But of course he would not lie, even to afford her a momentary comfort. "Not necessarily," he admitted. "There are too many sentients on this ship – too much going on. If they aren't actively seeking us…then it is possible I might not perceive them in the crowd."
Satine was determined to find the bright golden lining in this statement. "From which it follows," she pointed out, "That they are not actively seeking us. So we have a respite."
The Jedi master fixed her with a dry look, one which edged on mockery, also – though one mellowed with age, not the whiplash acerbity of his younger associate. "A fine observation, your ladyship." He nodded in the direction of his apprentice, half-curled on the bunk beside them. "I see one of you has followed my advice. I suggest you do likewise. You would do far better to sleep yourself than to watch another do so. I promise you will find it far more refreshing."
And that put her in her place. A noblewoman you may be, his keen eyes seemed to say, but there are some things in this galaxy which you will never, never have a right to possess. Accepting the unspoken, subtle rebuke, she made a graceful half-bow and settled herself upon the cramped cabin's other bunk. Master Jinn deftly tugged the single hard pillow out from beneath his sleeping Padawan's head, dropped it onto the deck space between the two built-in cots, and stretched out his own long, lean frame upon the floor, one hand still resting on the pommel of his saber. Within moments, his breathing was slow and steady as the ocean lapping against smooth stone.
Marveling at their power to rest on command, to cease thought and emotion in their tracks, Satine lay and stared at the ceiling of the sleeping niche, a scant meter above her face. A holonet monitor had been set into it, so that a resting passenger could pass the weary time of transit watching idle gossip and insipid entertainment. She did not turn the machine on; she had no appetite for such base distractions – and besides, it might wake the two Jedi. Folding her hands over her chest, feeling a headache coming on and the strain on her overtaxed but acutely awake nerves, she sighed again, preparing for what promised to be a long and lonely vigil in the dark.