Author: Marie B.
Date: 9/2/99
General Disclaimer: Danae and Maa-Br'ee are mine. Everything recognizable has been happily borrowed for my own purposes. My imagination has filled in the cracks.
Specific Disclaimer: This story takes place between "First Impressions" and "Of Medicine and Theater." It assumes that those have already been read, and thus it's a little terse in details. For those of you who have asked for more on Danae and Obi-Wan, it's coming, I swear. I got a few more stories in me; it's just this damn life of mine that keeps getting in the way. =)
Animus Divided, Part 2 . . .
One year ago Danae dawdled on the floating platform, eyeing the beings milling about. The freighter to Ryloth was late, and she could sense the impatience in the air, see it in the tension of the bodies, their abrupt movements as they paced around the metal square. Finally she found what she was looking for: a Human, keeping to himself, watching the others with open hostility. His body was flexing unnaturally from the body armor whose edges she could see beneath his heavy coat, and the crate at his feet bore all the trappings of a carefully concealed blaster shipment. She was familiar with his type: both arrogant and unsure at once, the combination arising from the knowledge of his chosen path married to a lack of experience. Young, unproven trackers were often used by Cradossk to run errands, though it was a lucky break that one had come to Coruscant. It had taken Danae almost a day to find him as it was; she hadn't planned on being gone for so long, and a small part of her mind was running through possible excuses. Mirta was waiting for her back at the Temple, probably with impatience, and that knowledge did little to quell her tension. Pushing thoughts of the older Padawan from her mind, she sidled up next to the Human, keeping her hood low over her face. He was about to step away when she wordlessly held out the envelope, the slender shape resting between her gloved fingers. He glanced at her hand, started to turn away, then peered more closely at the name scrawled across it. As he shook his head, she dug into the pocket of her robe. A thousand datarie chip appeared over the envelope, and both were immediately snatched away, disappearing into the depths of his coat. She had hocked half her equipment to pay for the envelope's delivery, and she fervently hoped it was worth the explanations she would have to endure. Danae knew the Human would read it at some point, as would Cradossk when he heard of it: the former out of unbearable curiousity, the latter in the hopes of finding a reason to go after one who was already proving to be an irritation to the Guild. So she had worded it carefully, keeping it as terse as possible, a textual representation of the unease she felt: I told them nothing. All stories have an element of fact. Remember the balance. As the Human slipped on board the freighter, disappearing in the throng of bodies crowding up the boarding ramp, her hearts fluttered. But she had to send it. All she could hope was that the message was far too cryptic for even Cradossk to understand, and that Aurra Sing would abide by it.
Present
The guard whistled tunelessly, desperately attempting to keep from falling asleep. Around his slender Human form, the hallways of the office building were all but silent, abandonded for the circus of the Senator's tour. Only the gentle hum of machinery filled the air, a constant sound that was more lullaby than stimulation.
He paced a few steps in one direction, then turned and repeated the motion, but it did little to quell his drowsiness. As he paced, the grating above his head swung open silently, but he didn't notice. He turned once more, trying to remember a better song, testing out the opening bars with awkwardly pursed lips.
"I'm very sorry to do this," a voice whispered.
The guard whirled, looking around the hallway, his blaster raised. A white hand shot out of the vent, slamming his head against the wall once, then again. His body buckled from the sudden violence, supported only by the fingers that were locked around the base of his skull. Another arm emerged, then a head covered in short, purple-black hair.
Danae gritted her teeth as she worked her hands around his upper arms, pulling him up and into the vent. His head struck the edge of the opening as she maneuvered his shoulders into the space, barely big enough for her to crouch in. "Sorry," she repeated softly. "But you're just my size. And you were off-key anyway."
She pulled him completely inside, then wiggled over him, closing the grating as silently as she had opened it. A smirk spread over her face as she reached for the buttons of his jacket.
* * * * *
Theeni wormed her way through the fringes of the massive crowd gathering in the arena. She ducked beneath the thick black ropes that created a center aisle, filled with merchants waiting impatiently to air their grievances. Her father was in the line somewhere, but he had let her go so she could buy a snack while they waited.
Around her, the crowd burst into a round of applause as a merchant's voice boomed in the air. "We ask only that the Honorable Senator consider how Malastare's excessive tax rates are driving away potential investors . . . "
Theeni wrinkled her nose. She recognized the voice; it was the merchant who had the stall two down from her father's. Her father didn't like him very much, and as a result Theeni didn't like him either. Her father said the merchant cheated, and cheating was bad.
It was because of this knowledge that she wasn't completely focused on finding a good snack. She was hungry, but her eyes were also taking note of every being that she pushed by, listening to the startled exclamations from above for a very particular voice. Theeni had hidden her hundred-datarie chip under her bed, but she hadn't been able to deliver her message yet. And if she didn't, she would be cheating the Jedi, in a way. And cheating was bad.
But she didn't see the woman in the crowd, and walked up to the wall instead, peering over its edge at the vendor stands scattered just beyond. She immediately spotted a table laden with cakes and a bucket of marbleberry jam to the far right of the arena. Her stomach rumbled, and she climbed over the wall and ran straight towards the tiny stand, her yellow braid bouncing behind her.
"One, please," she said excitedly. "With lots and lots and lots of jam."
As she watched the vendor reach for a cake her eyes widened. The fingers that settled around it were long, far longer than Theeni's, with narrow pointed nails. Slowly she raised her gaze to the vendor's face, partially shadowed by the hood of a long coat. Two grey eyes met her own, staring at her from beneath a pale forehead marked by a single antenna pushing past the edge of the hood.
"You?" Theeni was startled. "I didn't know you sold cakes!"
"I do lots of things," the woman replied, visibly amused. Her free hand closed delicately around a broad knife laden with jam, and she slathered the thick purple preserves over the cake. "Here, kid. No charge."
Theeni took the cake and bit into it happily. Looking up again, she mumbled, "Ah sha er."
"Did you now?" The woman's face darkened. "And you gave her the whole message?"
"Uh-huh." The girl swallowed, licking her lips. "She had a message for you too."
The woman leaned over, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. "Tell me."
"She said to tell you she's not your sister. And you should know better than to use children. And that she's not going anywhere." Theeni smiled. "You didn't say she was a Jedi!"
"She's not," the woman replied shortly. "She's just a fool, like her Master."
Theeni ran a thoughtful finger over a large drip of jam. "She didn't seem dumb. She seemed really nice. Why--"
But when she looked up again, the woman was gone.
* * * * *
Danae strode through the streets, nodding authoratatively to the hesitant greetings of passerby. Her face was partially shadowed by a helmet she had stolen from a supply closet; though it offered an adequate disguise, it was also making sweat pour down her neck. But the guard's jacket and pants were a pretty good fit, and she had been able to hide her lightsaber in a pocket, as well as keep the blaster strapped to her thigh. I said his Padawan would stay put. But guards can move about at will. The thought made her chuckle inwardly. Language is so poor at expressing intent.
Her smile faded, however, as she saw a Human officer marching briskly towards her. Uh-oh. She halted as he drew near and saluted, mimicking the gesture she had seen the guards perform.
The officer saluted in return. "Where are you going?"
"I was relieved, Sir. I wanted to hear the Senator." She kept her voice low, trying as best she could to mask the far-too-female pitch.
"From what post? I don't remember you."
I hope this works. All I can remember from the guard's manifest. "Sector 2-4-11, post 6," she replied briskly, waving her hand in his face.
"Section 2-4-11, post 6." The officer slapped her arm. "Lucky break for you, eh?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied, allowing a hint of a smile to graze her lips. Her arm burned from his rough gesture.
"Aren't you a little young?"
She waved her hand again. "Yes, Sir. But I wanted to serve, Sir."
"Wanted to serve." The officer chuckled. "Go on, then."
Danae grinned and moved past him. That worked far too well. I don't know whether to be happy or disturbed that I can pass as a twenty-year old Malastare male. Shaking her head ruefully, she focused herself, aiming for the shouts and applause that were just past the marketplace.
Her eyes widened as she saw the crowd. Great. I'll never find her in here. She sighed and began cutting around the wall, trying to make sense of the chaos. Her eyes noted outlying buildings to the far right, the start of the residential district. There was also a bell tower and several vendor stands. A few slender trees dotted around the wall were surrounded by beings, taking a rest in their shade. Within the arena, Malastare's citizens were standing shoulder to shoulder at least thirty rows deep. An aisle had been marked out in their center, and merchants were lined up well past the wall. This will last all day. Maa-Br'ee must be furious. And sweaty.
Caught up in her search, she nearly tripped over a tiny figure, sitting by herself in the dust. Danae glanced down, about to apologize, then stopped completely. "Theeni?"
The girl looked up, her face coated in jam. She was licking her fingers, and a giant smear of purple ran down the front of her shirt. "I told her. I said everything."
"When?"
"She gave me a cake." Theeni shrugged. "I didn't know she sold cakes."
Neither did I. And neither did she, probably, before today. "Which table?"
Theeni stuck a wet thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the right of the arena. "Over there."
Danae rubbed her head and began cutting through the scattered beings. She frowned as she reached the empty stand, the cakes sitting unattended, jam spoiling in the sun's heat. Carefully she walked around it, feeling beneath the table. Her fingers brushed a blaster taped to its underside. So she left in a hurry. She knows I'm coming.
She pried the blaster out, then shoved it into the large bucket of jam. As she raised her eyes, she saw a middle-aged man watching her. "Don't eat that," she said quickly.
"Wasn't planning on it," he replied. With a shrug, he turned back to watch the Senator.
Danae yanked the helmet further down over her face and began walking around the wall once more, scanning the crowd. For twenty minutes she paced around the arena, growing more sweaty and irritable with every passing second. This is stupid I don't even know what I'm looking for--
But a smile suddenly appeared on her face. Past the wall to the left of the stage, a tall figure stood in a knot of beings, all crowded beneath a tree. Though the figure wore a hooded coat, she could see a pale hand clutching an elongated satchel. Long fingers wound completely around the strap, their tips brushing an equally pale wrist.
For a moment she stood there, calming herself. Then she began approaching cautiously, using the Force to cloud her presence as best she could. Her movements were silent as she cut out in a wide arc, looping back through a narrow strip of houses until she was nearing the tree from behind. The figure took a step back, moving just past the throng under the tree, and dropped the satchel from its shoulder.
Danae leapt. One hand latched over a mouth; the other drew the blaster from her thigh and pressed it against a white forehead. The figure bucked, but she held on, until she felt the body become still in her arms.
"Aurra Sing," she breathed against the hood. "What brings you to Malastare?"
* * * * *
On the hastily erected stage in the arena, Senator Aks Moe nodded as a merchant finished yet another litany of complaints. An aide stepped up beside him and murmured in his ear. "Net worth of 900,000 credits. Two Federation Lieutenants as personal friends. Solid Hutt connections. Rumors of spice involvement."
Moe smiled. "Good, good." He stepped forward, shaking the merchant's hand. "Well said, my friend. I invite you to stop by tomorrow, and meet with my counsellors. Perhaps for the noontime meal?"
The merchant smiled in return, his eyes taking Moe's measure. "It sounds promising," he replied smoothly. "I would be honored."
"My pleasure. Next?"
Another merchant stepped forward, fumbling with a datapad. From his corner seat, Maa-Br'ee groaned. The sheer audacity of the Senator's actions was surprising. By creating the forum, the Senator had ensured he would make contact with every being who had any power on Malastare. To what end was the question, and the Jedi's lack of an answer bothered him greatly.
What wasn't surprising was the crowd's reaction, applauding every appointment and empty promise as a miracle. Maa-Br'ee had seen enough politics in his time to know the routine, the acting that pacified so many. But he hadn't expected Moe to be quite so savvy in his maneuvering.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, surveying the crowd. But there was no shock of red hair to be seen, no strange movement. For that matter, there was no purple hair either, and he felt relieved. Maa-Br'ee had missed the morning meal ensuring that his Padawan would stay put for once in her life, and the ache in his stomach was a small price to pay for knowing he had succeeded.
Yet another aide stepped forward, and Maa-Br'ee shook his head wryly. The Senator's information sources were many and diverse, indeed. But for the first time that day, the aide's whisper seemed to displease. Moe suddenly held up a hand, cutting the merchant off. His three eyes closed for a moment, then he turned completely, the stalks bobbing with barely contained irritation.
"Aurra Sing? Who in the galaxy is Aurra Sing?"
The Senator's voice was low, but it reached Maa-Br'ee as clearly as an alarm. He was on his feet instantly, one hand grabbing the nearest guard by the arm. "We have to get him back," he said calmly.
The guard looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Bounty hunter. He needs to go back. Now."
To his credit, the guard acted quickly. In a few minutes a cadre of uniformed officers were guiding the Senator offstage, while a visibly frightened aide directed the crowd to disperse: sincerest apologies, an emergency required the Senator's immediate attention, he will continue at another time . . .
As he backpedaled, following the entourage offstage, Maa-Br'ee scanned the crowd once more. A scream suddenly echoed across the arena, and the passive mass of people turned into a stampede, crushing each other against the walls as they tried to flee something to their right. His eyes backtracked over their movements, and he spotted two figures facing each other, a Malastare guard aiming a blaster at a tall woman. Her red ponytail cascaded over her back, resting against an equally red bodysuit. As he watched, the guard flung its helmet off, and the Jedi scowled as a shock of purple hair gleamed in the sunlight.
"Furthest planet I can find," he muttered under his breath. "So damn far she won't be able to buy a decent meal for months."
Maa-Br'ee took a deep breath, calming the pain and anxiety inside of himself. He felt old, suddenly; old and weary and foolish. Shaking his head, he hurried after the Senator, helping the guards cut through the panicked crowd to a speeder that had materialized out of nowhere.
"What are you going to do?" An officer seized his arm, looking worriedly at Maa-Br'ee.
"Get him back," Maa-Br'ee spat. "After that, I really don't care."
* * * * *
Aurra Sing raised her arms slowly, flexing her empty hands. Her long fingers settled over Danae's hand pressed firmly against her mouth, and she eased it away.
"To answer your question, Danae, I'm here on business." Slowly she turned, the blaster sliding across her temples, until they were facing each other. "Since when do Jedi wield blasters like us common folk?"
"Get out of here," Danae said quietly.
"No."
They gazed at each other for a moment. A smile played over Aurra's lips. "Come now, Danae. What are you going to do? Kill me?"
"If I have to."
"What about 'the balance'? Weren't those your words?"
Danae shrugged, keeping a firm grip on the blaster. "It seemed like a good idea."
"I cannot believe this." Aurra waved a hand towards the stage. "You're willing to die for that?"
"Not for him. For this planet, that would fall apart without him."
"Maybe that's what they need. Maybe I'm doing them a favor."
"Don't lie to me, Aurra," Danae replied evenly. "You don't care about them. All you care about is the price."
"It's a nice payment, Danae. Even you'd have to admit that."
"I never thought about it."
"Maybe you should." The older woman's face grew sly. "Don't tell me you never considered leaving."
"Actually, I haven't." Danae glanced around. The people were moving away, whispering to each other uneasily. Good. Get out of here. This is going to get ugly very soon.
"So what are you going to do?" Aurra began stripping off her coat. Her red bodysuit glowed in the sun, the array of weaponry dotted with white gleams of light. "I know you're not going to shoot me, Danae. Not like this. You can only kill me if I fight you."
A scream went up in the crowd as she flung the coat aside. Danae closed her mind to the sudden panic, the energy hitting her like a physical blow. She could sense rushed movement in the arena, feel the pain as beings collided with each other, and she gritted her teeth as she forced herself to block it out.
"Rules change," she managed, keeping her tone light.
"Sometimes." A shake of the bounty hunter's head set her hair in motion, the red waves dancing over her shoulders. "I wonder, though, whether they'll change for us?"
Danae slowly raised one hand to her head. "I don't want to find out," she admitted, throwing the helmet to the ground. "But I can't let you kill the Senator."
"And I'm being paid to kill the Senator. So we have a problem."
With her free hand, Danae began unbuttoning her jacket. The blaster never wavered, aiming between the dark spheres around grey eyes that never left her face. "That reminds me. Who's paying you?"
"That's personal."
"Everything with us is personal."
"Only if you make it so."
"No." Danae shook her head, easing out of the jacket. "You're making it so. You're so damn insistent on building your reputation that you're willing to die rather than lose a mark."
In response, Aurra's leg flew out. Her foot struck Danae's hand, sending the blaster arcing towards the vendor stands. Before she could attack again, Danae vaulted in the air, igniting her lightsaber. She landed and immediately dropped into a crouch, deflecting a blaster shot.
"You could have sent that right back at me," Aurra growled.
"I don't want to kill you."
"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought." She fired again, sending a volley of shots towards the young apprentice. Danae leapt from side to side, easily deflecting the shots towards what she hoped were empty vendor stands. As she slapped the last bolt away, Aurra grinned. "You're getting pretty good."
"I try." As she saw Aurra suddenly dart towards the stage, she leapt again, riccocheting off the wall to land in front of her. "I'm warning you. Go. Now."
"I'm touched, little sister. But no thanks." Aurra suddenly flung the blaster aside and drew her lightsaber. The red beam flared out from the handle. "Maybe I should do this the old-fashioned way?"
"Whatever amuses you. Isn't that how you operate?"
"Damn right," Aurra retorted. "Not a Council pawn like you. Not now, not ever."
The first crack of their blades echoed across the open field. The last few people trying to fight their way clear shrieked in unison, the cries adding a strange resonance to the sizzle and hum as the two women parried. Danae sensed Aurra working her way towards the stage, and she began pushing towards the left in response, driving them backwards past the vendor stands. They circled the bell tower once, their lightsabers falling into a brisk rhythm, then as if of one mind moved into the middle of the deserted residential streets. Danae heard the faint sounds of doors slamming shut, window shutters being pulled closed, and focused herself completely on the task at hand.
Every swing connected with the other; every jab and thrust were easily avoided. As they fought steadily, their eyes locked on each other, they soon forgot about the world around them. Sun, trees, and buildings faded into a blur as each focused solely on finding an opening, the slightest hesitation they could use to their advantage. But there was none. For every maneuver Danae attempted, Aurra was already dodging; for every swipe of Aurra's blade she was already out of its reach. Sweat poured off their bodies as they drove each other out of the residential section into the marketplace.
Backpedaling furiously, Danae didn't realize she was heading for a tent until her head struck its beam. She hesitated for a second as the pain rang between her ears, and Aurra took the opportunity to rush past her, her blade cutting low. Their lightsabers connected again, but Danae felt a searing pain in her thigh, and quickly vaulted out of reach.
When she landed, Aurra was staring at her, her chest heaving with exertion. Danae's jaw dropped as she saw the blood welling over the red clad thigh, and she glanced at her own. Left on her, right on me. Perfectly symmetrical.
"This is weird," Aurra muttered.
"You're telling me."
They began circling again, eyeing each other warily. I can sense her more now. She's so close to who she was--I can feel her just as I did at the Temple.
"Aurra, please." Danae suddenly stopped, her arms relaxing. "Let this go."
"Why?" Aurra rushed her again and Danae immediatly dropped, curling under the swipe. They faced each other again, the bounty hunter smiling. "Getting tired?"
"Trying to get two for the price of one?"
"Fastest mouth in the galaxy." The antenna vibrated slightly as she chuckled. "Be careful you don't talk yourself into a bad situation."
Danae scowled. "I thought I was in a bad situation."
"This?" Aurra began advancing slowly. "This is just play, Danae."
She responded by leaping forward, driving her foot into the woman's stomach. As Aurra tumbled backwards, her fist followed, slamming the bounty hunter's head into the ground, then struck once more before she jumped to the side. The red lightsaber swung for her again, missing her side by a hair's breath, and before she could maneuver she saw the hand racing towards her neck.
Danae winced as the fingers closed over her throat, the nails digging into her skin. She managed to keep the lightsaber at bay with her own, her free hand trying to break the grip that was steadily crushing her windpipe. Finally she took a deep breath and jumped, pulling Aurra up with her, flinging both their bodies into a somersault that brought her down on top of the bounty hunter. The grip on her throat released, and she punched Aurra in the face as hard as she could before breaking away. Drops of blood fell down her side from the punctures in her neck, dotting her tunic in red.
"Why don't you lick it up?" Aurra grinned as she rose up from the dust, tossing her hair back. A bruise was spreading over her flexed cheek. "Make this more interesting?"
Danae stared at her. "How do you know about that?"
"I know--" she rushed Danae again, their lightsabers locking-- "because I know you."
The glow of their blades cast strange highlights on their faces as they stared at each other, neither breaking away. Each was straining to press the mass of violet and red heat towards the other.
"Two halves of a circle," Danae whispered.
"And when one dies, the other dies too," Aurra replied smoothly.
"But not now." Her voice was trembling. "It's not now."
Aurra broke free, swinging her lightsaber in her hand as she leapt back several feet. "Maybe not. Maybe so."
"Let it go, Aurra. For the friendship we had, if nothing else. Please."
Her eyes met Danae's. "I have a mark."
"Let it go," she repeated. I sound like a broken transmitter. But I have to make her understand. "We can't do this, not until we know what it means. Let it go and I'll leave as well."
The bounty hunter stared at her, and Danae saw it then: the slightest relaxing of her features, the tension in her jaw softening. She smiled encouragingly as Aurra spoke.
"If we promised--"
But the older woman's words were cut off as a large rock sailed through the marketplace, striking her in the head. Aurra was flung backwards by the blow, becoming a red streak that tumbled over the ground to land in a heap at the base of a tent.
"No!" Danae whirled at the sudden arrival. "Don't, please, let it be--"
But the hooded figure remained impassive.
* * * * *
Maa-Br'ee stared at the crumpled body, tendrils of red hair dancing about as Aurra Sing began to rise. "Danae," he said quietly. "Go."
"No!" His apprentice shook her head. "You don't understand!"
"I think I have a solid grasp of the situation," he snapped. "Get out of here. I'll take care of this."
"You can't!" Danae rushed up to him, grabbing his arm. "Maa-Br'ee, trust me . . ."
In response he shoved her roughly to the ground, breaking her grip. A blaster shot cut between their bodies, the red laser singing the edge of Maa-Br'ee's sleeve. Both looked at Aurra, who had risen unsteadily, pressing one hand against her head while she tried to steady the blaster.
"Jedi fool," she hissed. "I'll have your lightsaber for that."
"You'll never get close enough," Maa-Br'ee replied easily. His hand twitched, and an empty table rose and flung itself at Aurra, knocking her to the ground again. He smiled slightly as she kicked it off, rolling onto her knees. "You left the Temple a little too early, Padawan."
"Don't--" the bounty hunter staggered to her feet. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? You were one for many years." Maa-Br'ee's hand twitched again and another rock launched itself at the trembling red body. She managed to get her blaster up in time, deflecting the missile with a quick shot.
Her blaster aimed again, and before Danae could think she had leapt in front of Maa-Br'ee, her lightsaber whipping around as she deflected the shot. It cut straight back at Aurra, searing her arm. The woman's eyes widened as she reflexively clutched the wound, then a slow smile broke over her lips.
"So much for compromises, little sister," she said softly.
"Don't call me that," Danae retorted. "Just go, Aurra. This is over."
"It's never over." Aurra took a step backwards. "Not for us. And not for your Master. I know all about him. You'll regret this, both of you."
Danae glanced at Maa-Br'ee. Know about him? What's to know?
But his eyes were focused on the older woman. "She's right, Aurra." His tone was soft, almost gentle. "The Senator is under constant watch now. I suggest you speak with your sponsors about an alternative mode of retribution."
Aurra smiled, her hand dropping away from her arm. The white skin was coated in a smear of blood. "You should know the Hutt better than that, Jehru Maa-Br'ee."
Watching the two of them closely, Danae's stomach rolled as she saw her Master go perfectly still. The Hutt? Did something happen between him and the Hutt? The thought terrified her more than she would ever have imagined possible.
"Go," he finally managed. "Just go."
"I was never here," Aurra snapped. With a last, meaningful glance at Danae, she turned and began sprinting through the marketplace. As they watched, she ducked into a tent. A few minutes later a speeder's engines roared into life. It burst through the side of the tent, tearing the fabric, and began racing towards the residential section.
* * * * *
Danae barely noticed as the sun began to dip over the horizon. They had remained standing in the marketplace for what felt like an eternity and a second at once: Maa-Br'ee gazing at the ripped tent, the fabric stirring in the breeze; Danae's eyes locked on her Master, her confusion causing her mind to run in circles. The Hutt? What would the Hutt want with him? He's never said anything about the time before took me on. But the Hutt would never go after a Jedi, it's too much of a risk. But then what was she talking about? There must be something. What would the Hutt--
Finally she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could find the words, any words, Maa-Br'ee whisper broke the silence. "She's so young, still . . . "
"Only five years older than I," Danae responded automatically.
"When she reaches her prime, she will be a dangerous opponent indeed."
"You said she's already hunted Jedi."
"It's a story," he amended. "Possibly one she spread around. Though considering her hatred of the Order, it will not be long before it becomes fact."
"What was she talking about, Maa-Br'ee?"
And then, for the first time in her life, Danae saw her Master's face become frightened. It was gone in an instant, but she knew that the image would be forever burned in her memory.
"What do you mean?"
Her foot slammed on the ground. "You know what I mean! The Hutt, Maa-Br'ee!"
He sighed and turned to her. "It's nothing, Danae. Just words."
"Words with meaning--" she deliberately left the phrase hanging.
"Words with an old story as their reference, but one whose resolution is just as old." His round face broke into a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Danae. There's nothing to it."
He's lying to me. The realization shook her to her core. He's blatantly lying to me. And he's smiling about it.
"Tell me," she whispered.
"No."
"Maa-Br'ee, please." To both their surprise, she dropped to her knees, her eyes filling as she looked up at him. I've never begged for anything in my life. But I'll beg for this. "I need to know--"
"Stop it," he hissed. "Get up this instant."
"No!" A tear rolled down her face. "Tell me, please . . ."
He stared at her for a moment, then bent over, his hand caressing her face. Slowly he wiped at the single tear with a rough, callused thumb. "I promise you, Danae," he murmured. "When you pass your trials I will tell you everything. But not before."
"Don't do this," she gasped.
"I have to. For your sake as well as mine." He kissed her forehead. "You are my Padawan, and I love you more than anything in this galaxy. But I cannot tell you, Danae. I need you to trust me." His eyes held hers, searching. "If you can do nothing else for me, you must trust me now."
They gazed at each other for a moment, Danae's tears spilling freely over her face. Finally Maa-Br'ee sighed. "There's a freighter leaving for Tatooine tomorrow night," he said gently. "We need to be on it, I think."
Danae kept staring at him. This isn't happening. He can't just walk away from this.
"We need to go, Danae." He wiped at her face once more, then straightened. "I'll be waiting for you back at the building."
She watched as he turned abruptly and left her, striding briskly towards the Senator's offices. The lights in the building were turning on one by one, gleaming like stars in the rapidly darkening sky. Around her the breeze moved gently, catching at the empty booths of the marketplace, sliding through the ripped tent that had hidden Aurra's speeder.
I'm a pawn. Her eyes widened with sudden comprehension. Playing a game I know nothing about. But it's not the Order. It's something greater than that. Greater than us all.
Danae let her mind open, her tears forgotten. Around her the Force revealed itself in a web of energy, caressing her very soul, the sensation more reassurance than a thousand words. She felt it wrap around her, then reach out, touching the beings of Malastare, the trees that drank from the soil, the trampled grasses in the arena field, the orchards and forests that lay past the residential section. In a blinding moment, she felt it course through the very core of the planet itself, then closed her mind exhaustedly to its song.
When she returned to awareness she rose stiffly, ignoring the dust that matted her knees. But I won't stay a pawn forever. Her jawline stiffened with determination. No matter how long it take. If Aurra can play, then so can I. I can't control it all. But I swear that one day I will not only know the rules; I'll make them. And when I die, it will be on my terms alone.
Danae tossed her head back, her eyes gleaming. She took a deep breath and began following in Maa-Br'ee's footsteps, her gaze focused on the Senator's building.
After the marketplace, Danae didn't speak to Maa-Br'ee for two days. He noted her silence, but acknowledged it only in speech, addressing her in statements rather than questions, directing their return to Tatooine. Part of him wanted very much to break through her muteness, to quell the pain he saw in her eyes; but the Council was demanding a report, the Senator wanted explanations, and he needed to settle their transport costs. So he left her to packing, and focused himself on smoothing over their hasty departure. Once on the freighter, he thought again of trying to speak with her, broach the subject of Aurra's words. He could never tell her what had happened, of the young slave whose life had been lost by his youthful folly, or of the rationale behind the sacrifice. Part of it was to keep her from the fear and impatience she was just learning to control; but another part was Maa-Br'ee's own hesitation to return to that time, his dread that the slender reasons for his own actions might prove far more valid than he dared imagine. And, in the end, he didn't have to. Danae began speaking again on the freighter, and her clipped responses soon slid into normal conversation. By the time they arrived in Tatooine, she was back to her usual jauntiness, making snide comments about the extravagantly gorgeous prostitute who was one of their travelling companions, happily joining him in the cantina at Mos Eisley for a glass of ale. They toasted to leaving Malastare, to being rid of bounty hunters, and to the endless surprises of the Outer Rim. But as their glasses clinked, he sensed something new in his Padawan. She seemed more resolute within herself, more focused; within her very essence he could sense the tiniest core of cold determination. It intrigued and troubled him at once. If she had managed to slough off yet another layer of fear and anger, then she was a great deal closer to completing her training. But if she was hiding from him a darker ambition, then it could undo eighteen years of guidance in a heartbeat. Jehru Maa-Br'ee sipped his ale, letting the alcohol warm his stomach, and smiled at his Padawan. He had her trust, for the moment at least, and she had his forever. Beyond that, he could only be patient, and let events unfold. He didn't have a choice. But his credits would always be on Danae.
One week later
Finis