A/N: While Novani is a Jedi Consular in game, I won't be following the storyline with her.

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The Other Side

Novani knelt by the man she'd just knocked unconscious. Practicality said she should have killed him. Compassion said he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jedi teaching said… What was a Jedi to do in these circumstances?

She wished Master Cereb were with her. She wished she were back on Tython. She wished she were back on Anaxes, helping with the family business. Anywhere but deep in Hutt Space, trying to free a shipment of kidnapped Republic citizens before a Hutt finished selling them to the Empire.

She knew diplomacy and healing, not stealth and subterfuge. A Jedi might need to be skilled at both, but she hardly felt ready. The civilian clothing she wore felt wrong, and she missed the familiar weight of her lightsaber at her hip. She rarely drew it, but it gave her some comfort, especially in a place so steeped in misery and hate.

She had reacted too hastily, and now she had an unconscious man who was not in any way part of their plan. And she'd used the Force to do it.

There is no emotion, there is peace.She took a deep breath, steadying herself. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There were no innocents here, save those she and Master Cereb had come to free. An armed man wandering around the compound was either in the Hutt's employ or the Empire's.

There is no passion, there is serenity.She'd let the atmosphere affect her, lost sight of her training. There is no chaos, there is harmony. She would rectify her mistake and acquire transportation, just as Master Cereb sent her to do. There is no death, there is the Force.

Innocent or not, she couldn't kill the man in cold blood. That was wrong on every level, Jedi or otherwise. She couldn't leave him there; he was bound to realize it was a Jedi who had attacked him. Unless he assumed the rock had been thrown by an unseen colleague. Or perhaps he wouldn't remember; he had a concussion.

Yes. She would trust in the Force, trust that he wouldn't remember, wouldn't wake in time to interfere with the rescue. She could even use the Force to ensure that.

She hesitated, her hand over his forehead. Was that right? To use the Force that way? The man was young, not more than a few years older than herself; with proper medical care, there shouldn't be any permanent harm. What would Master Cereb do?

The man stirred, squinting up at her.

She pulled her hand back. She couldn't use the Force against him now; his awareness made it wrong. I shouldn't have hesitated! She couldn't panic again. There is no emotion, there is peace.

He was laying on his rifle; nothing she could do about that, not now. She frantically felt through his pockets, tossing aside a hold out blaster and a small vibroblade. And his comlink, though it would only take a shout for him to raise the alarm.

"What…?" He clutched at his head, apparently still too dazed to do anything more.

"Stay quiet, I won't harm you," Novani said, her voice calm, non-threatening. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. She could see a clear path now.

"You hit me." It wasn't quite a question.

"Let me help you." She reached for him, putting just a little of the Force behind the soothing words. "The guard in the garage should have a medkit." She helped him up, using a flick of the Force to unfasten his rifle strap and drop the weapon silently to the ground. "There, just let me help you."

"I don't…"

She felt his sudden flash of alarm as he pulled away from her.

"I don't think that would be healthy." He stumbled against the wall of the narrow side alley, his hand still pressed to the back of his head. "You're… not my concern. I saw nothing." He made a vague gesture. "Accident. Clearly."

The words were almost believable, but his accent was slipping. Novani reached out with the Force, to sense his next move, to sense for anyone who might be close enough to aid him. The weapons she had tossed away could be hers in an instant, but he would have to dive for them. She doubted he could. Had she missed something when she searched him?

There is no passion, there is serenity. She could neither fear nor hate him. She had to stay focused; she had made too many mistakes already.

"You're here for the slaves," she said calmly.

"Slaves?" He seemed to be struggling to focus on her.

Confusion, uncertainty, wariness. Not what she expected to sense, but she had no experience with Imperials.

"The people you came here to buy." It wasn't easy to say something so terrible with calm detachment.

"You came to free them."

Understanding, she expected, but not what felt strangely like approval. Had he misunderstood and thought she was freeing Hutt slaves? Would that somehow help the Empire? She couldn't imagine how.

"I won't interfere," he continued. "Good luck."

She sensed no deception, nothing that should have been there. He can't have understood. Her healer training was tugging at her to heal the damage she'd done to him. A nagging urgency reminded her she was running out of time for her part of the mission.

She couldn't believe him. But every part of her recoiled from the alternatives. Jedi did not strike down people who were no threat to them. He was offering a peaceful solution.

"If you have a medpack, perhaps…I could help?"

Novani stared at him. The Empire ran on slavery. Hutt Space ran on slavery. Even if he hadn't understood correctly, he was there, in Hutt Space, for some reason. And freeing slaves couldn't be that reason.

"That… that is kind of you," she said. And her scattered thoughts found harmony. "I'm sorry." She gently pulled his hand away, reaching out with the Force to heal the wound, and the concussion.

"How…?"

She sensed his wary anxiety and reached out again with the Force. "Sleep." For a healer it was simple enough. Though it was not usually used on someone upright and larger than the healer.

She staggered for a moment, then, steadying herself and her burden with the Force, eased him to the ground and propped him gently against the wall. It wasn't impossible that a person might choose this out of the way corridor for a nap.

She pulled his weapons and com to her with the Force. Would you really have helped me? It almost seemed possible. She tucked the hold-out blaster, com, and vibroblade back in his pockets and left the rifle beside him on the khal grass.

The Empire was evil, untrustworthy, and dangerous, but did that mean all Imperials were the same? Did one exception mean anything? One uncertain exception.

She chased the questions away and went to procure transportation. She could ask Master Cereb later.

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Kyrian was roused from his nap by a kick.

"The mighty Gorlo is robbed by Jedi and I find you sleeping!" The large man looming over him shouted. "Nem'ro told Gorlo you were useful!"

For a moment nothing made sense, then Kyrian remembered the young woman – barely that – and their rather odd encounter. He touched the back of his head, feeling dried blood, but no injury. Jedi? That explained everything. Except why he was still alive.

The man kicked him again. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes. I apologize." Kyrian got slowly to his feet. "I don't remember coming out here."

"Damned Jedi," the man swore. "Stole a whole shipment of slaves! Gorlo is gonna feed somebody to the blood worms, and it ain't gonna be me."

"Shipment of slaves?" Kyrian asked. "How could I possibly protect something I didn't know you had?"

"Useless outsider!" The man stomped away.

Kyrian rubbed his bruised hip. A Jedi? She'd knocked him out. She could easily have killed him. Instead, she'd seemed unsure what to do with him. He brushed at the dried blood in his hair. His education was seeming more and more suspect.