Narimoyak: Sudden Death
by ardavenport
We're too late.
Obi-Wan's hand tensed over the control panel of the small cruiser.
"Steady, Obi-Wan." His Master's voice sounded calm but from out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon's proud profile in the co-pilot's seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, fixed on their destination. They both felt the same sharp, shared tension in the Force. Obi-Wan swallowed, his own eyes on the hazy atmosphere below them.
Their ship descended through the perpetual clouds that surrounded this world. It was called Yom Ber. No sun or starlight ever touched its shrouded surface. Only a few hardy settlers, who did not mind the gloom, sparsely populated this world; their ship sped toward a deserted region. They broke through the upper layers of clouds. Below them, Obi-Wan saw more gray. Their instruments and a holo map of the surface showed where the beacon had come from.
Someone died. Perhaps both.
Obi-Wan could not tell how many but it was at least one. An impression of heat, impact, broken bones and twisted flesh passed through his body. He had never felt anything like it before. It had not been the slipping away into the Force of an elderly Master in the Temple, or even the sudden heartbreaking cry of anguish from a stranger.
A Jedi had died violently.
They had received a distress signal that suddenly ended. The Jedi Temple on Coruscant confirmed the source and they were closest to it. Jedi Master Narimoyak and her Padawan Learner, Deena Sh'Shemi, were in a nearby system, serving as intermediaries between several multi-world interests involving the planets in that part of space, including Yom Ber. Their mission completed successfully, they had been returning to Coruscant but there was no explanation for their detour to this world. Their beacon had simply gone disturbingly dead.
Plunging down below the last layer of clouds, their small ship now skimmed over a gray and deep green landscape. They dove down toward a mountainside jutting up above the dense forest. Qui-Gon leaned forward pointing to their destination, an ugly black scar on slate-gray cliffs. Pieces of a wrecked ship, disturbingly similar to their own, lay scattered on the ground below the point of impact.
Obi-Wan landed their craft as close as he could to the crash site but they still had to climb through the rocks to reach it.
"Master Narimoyak!"
Qui-Gon's call barely echoed in the heavy air, even with the huge rock face nearby. A dark green forest of giant ferns receded into the haze below them. They scanned the area, their senses eager for any response. But they only heard low, distant warbles and clicks from the native wildlife.
Both Jedi turned at the same time toward the same place. They felt it through the Force, a wordless impulse. They hurried down a gentle rocky incline, dislodging stray pebbles as they went to the edge of the fern forest. At the wall of the giant multi-pinnated leaves they heard movement in the foliage. They put the hoods of their robes up, attaching hidden fasteners under their chins to hold them in place, and pushed through the leaves toward the sound.
They walked through the dark gloomy forest, richly scented with decaying plants and soil. Little sticks and pale blue underbrush around the huge fern stalks snagged at the hems and sleeves of their robes. There was hardly any free space at all, just curtain after curtain of deep green leaves.
"Master Narimoyak!" Obi-Wan called out.
The movement toward them grew louder.
"Here," a low woman's voice answered. The sense of another's presence became very strong. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stopped and drew together, letting the other come to them.
She emerged from the greenery, a dark brown robe among the leaves that she pushed aside. They could not see her face under her hood, just an impression of lips, nose and pale eyes. She carried in her arms a smaller robed figure, the head completely covered in folds of dusty-brown fabric. One arm hung limp, small fingertips visible at the end of the long sleeve. Obi-Wan shivered, remembering his impression of abused flesh and death.
Only the whirring movements of tiny forest creatures disturbed the still air around them. The newcomer bowed her head slightly and they returned the gesture. Qui-Gon turned back to where they had come from. He closed his eyes briefly before moving forward, the Force guiding his direction. The woman, carrying her sad burden, followed immediately behind him and Obi-Wan came after her. Sometimes she would turn sideways to make her way through the leaves and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of the free arm of the body she carried.
They emerged into the open, the crash site above them. Qui-Gon turned to guide the other up the incline. She accepted his help but clung to her burden. Obi-Wan stayed close behind but there were no missteps as they slowly climbed back up to the flat area under the scarred cliff face. Obi-Wan felt overwhelming sadness within him, like a phantom wail in his head that increased as he watched her gently lay the robed body on the uneven ground. She pushed the hood of her robe back.
It was Master Narimoyak, an elder Zabrak with a long narrow face, lined brown skin and very pale brown eyes. Her ivory-yellow horns, two large ones at her temples and four smaller ones, ringed her hairless, ridged skull like a crown. Her fingernails, the same color as her horns, stood out from the dark skin of her slender fingers as she pulled the hood back from the face of her Padawan.
Deena Sh'Shemi had been young and delicate with tan, almost orange skin, now gone waxy with death. Her eyes were sunken and shadowed and the skin around the small yellow horns at her temples and the three larger ones going up the crown of her head looked stretched and unnatural. Her body was deflated of life, her head turned limply to the side.
Qui-Gon Jinn knelt beside her Master. One of his large hands rested on Narimoyak's shoulder, the other touched hers, the one that brushed Deena Sh'Shemi's cheek. He softly asked her what had happened.
Master Narimoyak sighed, a long, slow exhale. They had completed their mission and were returning to Coruscant, but Deena Sh'Shemi wanted to see Yom Ber. She had been born on this world though she did not remember it, having been given to the Jedi as an infant. Master Narimoyak had visited it before. There could not have been any harm in going.
Obi-Wan listened, absorbing the information without really hearing the words. He stared at the body and the memory of its fragile, broken flesh crept back into him. He shut it out and looked away.
The landing stabilizers had given Narimoyak trouble when they arrived at their mission and they gave the spaceport crew instructions to fix them. There had been plenty of time, days for them to complete the job and the port master reported it finished. Her Padawan told her that the ship's computer registered the repair work but she did not look at the output herself.
"Do you believe it was sabotage?" Qui-Gon asked.
Master Narimoyak shook her head slowly. "No." Her fingertips continued to brush Deena Sh'Shemi's cheek. Qui-Gon's hand closed over her slender one and drew it away. She turned to him. "I think it was an accident."
Obi-Wan stood awkwardly over them. He lowered his head, using the hood of his robe to mask the shock he felt. An accident, he wondered.
"I suppose there will be an inquiry," Master Narimoyak continued, turning back to the body. Qui-Gon still held her hand. Obi-Wan looked away again as she continued.
The stabilizers did not fail until they were flying low, looking for a place to land. When they failed, they failed completely, the ship suddenly spinning wildly with half the displays gone red. Nothing worked. She had grabbed her Padawan and ejected, which automatically activated the distress beacon.
They were separated, hurled into the air before the ship slammed into the mountain and exploded. But the girl was unprepared. Even using the Force to slow her descent, she landed badly. While her Master crashed into yielding foliage, she hit a rock outcropping amidst the forest of tall ferns. Narimoyak found her still alive, but terribly injured where she fell.
"Deena was so ashamed of failing me." Her voice had withered with sorrow and a tear ran down her cheek.
Qui-Gon put his arm around her shoulder; he still held her hand.
"We need to return," he said softly. "We can take her back on our ship."
Master Narimoyak closed her eyes and lifted her head as if she were listening.
"No," she said. "We will do it here."
"Ma–"
Her free hand suddenly went to his lips, covering them.
"No. We will do it here," she repeated firmly.
Obi-Wan watched them from under the hood of his robe. Her fingers, wrinkled and darker at the knuckles and joints lay over Qui-Gon's beard, her pale, almost clawlike nails covering his mouth. He nodded.
She rose, Qui-Gon helping her. He sent Obi-Wan to their ship, to transmit a message and get some supplies and equipment. It would be dark soon. Obi-Wan gratefully left, crossing over the rocks and the small dark ferns peeking out between them.
Inside the ship he recorded his message to the Temple, bowing and then standing at attention for the holocam, his hands folded formally before him as he spoke. He sent it through a secure com and then he turned to the equipment storage behind the two seats. It wasn't a very big ship, but they had standard survival gear. Obi-Wan knew they would need to stay past dark, but he did not know how long after that. So, he took everything for a whole night, lights and water, two survival packs with their various provisions, and an extra mat and covering to lay on the ground.
He tossed it all out through the hatch and then powered the ship down again, sealing it against any trespassing creatures. Loaded down with everything on his back, hanging off of his shoulders, under his arms and in his hands, he made his way back slowly to the crash site. He was sweating in the humid air, but he did not want to make two trips.
When he reached the rocky area under the crash site, there was already a pile of woody fern stalks stacked around a raised slab of rock. A pair of dark, discarded robes lay by the body.
Obi-Wan put all the gear down in a mostly flat area of rocks that was not too close to either the body or the stack of fern stalks. He kicked away bits of crash debris to clear it. Then discarding his own robe, he went down the incline to the edge of the forest where the two Jedi Masters had cut down and stripped piles of giant fern stalks with their lightsabers.
The two Masters worked without stopping. Qui-Gon felled a few more ferns among the stumps, his long brown hair swinging behind him. He picked them up and sliced off the dark foliage from both sides of each stalk with his bright, green blade. Obi-Wan saw that Master Narimoyak's lightsaber was also green with a mostly silver hilt and a long grip. She wore a light brown tunic that went down to her ankles which opened when she moved, revealing dark boots and pants. Her wide belt matched her boots; her obi and the single stole that went around her neck down past her knees were the same off-white as Obi-Wan's own tunic.
Picking up as many stalks as he could manage, Obi-Wan dragged them up to the pile above. He was breathing hard and his under tunic and tunic were wet and sticking to his back when he dumped them with the others but he jogged back down to get more. By the time they had enough the gray light was beginning to dim into the world's shadowless evening as their side of the planet rotated away from its sun.
Obi-Wan silently activated a light by their intended camp and set it on a rock.
"Thank you, Obi-Wan." He started when Master Narimoyak touched his arm. He looked up at her. This was the first time she had spoken to him. Her gaze made him feel younger than his fifteen years as she looked at his sweaty, disheveled clothes.
He stood and bowed to her. "I am saddened by your loss, Master Narimoyak." He felt awkward speaking to her, the formality of his statement clumsy and shallow.
She reached out a hand and touched his cheek with the back of her fingers.
"You have never seen a death like this before. Of a Jedi. Violent. Pointless," she stated, reading his thoughts better than he could.
He swallowed. "No, Master."
"Do not deceive yourself by looking for purpose. There is none." Her voice, low and strong, carried a tremor of the age that showed on her lined face. "But it is not chance. We decide our own chances when we adapt to our fortunes."
She suddenly snatched her hand away. "Forgive me, Padawan Obi-Wan. I overstep myself." She nodded to him and left, sparing him the need to answer. He wondered if she had been really speaking to him or to herself, or to her dead Padawan.
Qui-Gon began arranging stalks around the chosen rock platform and she joined him. There was some back and forth discussion between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak about the best way to lay out the pyre. Obi-Wan realized that they had both done this before. He activated the light by the rock slab that they arranged the stalks on and went back to where he had put their equipment.
Obi-Wan took a water container from one of the packs and drank some. Still sweaty and sticky in the moist air, he sat on a rock and watched the two Masters for a moment. He heard their voices, but not the words; the sound did not seem to carry very well in the increasing gloom. He knew he should get up and help them but they worked quickly together, knowing exactly what they wanted as they laid stacks of stalks. Occasionally a lightsaber would flash briefly to cut them to a better size. Obi-Wan dreaded getting in the middle of it, not knowing what to do. He felt worse than tired; he felt useless.
When they had connected all the piles into one large, even pyre, Qui-Gon carried several long stalks over to the body and laid them next to it. Obi-Wan saw him take something from one of his belt pouches and begin working over one end of them, then the other. He realized that his Master was using the line from his cable launcher to lash the stalks together. He picked up the water and another light and went over to him.
Qui-Gon sat on his heels staring down at his work, his long hair hanging limply down off his shoulders and sticking to his collar. He silently accepted the container, took a long drink and put it on the ground. Then he looked to his side. In the white, artificial light that Obi-Wan carried the robe that covered the body looked nearly black in the twilight. Qui-Gon went to the shrouded head, his hand briefly passing over it. Then he looked up expectantly at Obi-Wan, who suddenly realized that he needed to take the feet. He put the light down and hurried over. They lifted the body onto the stalks with hardly any effort, it was so light.
Obi-Wan stayed crouched at his end as Qui-Gon bent over the head and unwrapped the fabric covering it. He used both hands to arrange the folds under the pale head to make it lay straight. Then he parted the robe on the body. Obi-Wan stood and stepped back as he worked, arranging the limp arms and legs neatly; not enough time had passed for them to stiffen. Qui-Gon straightened and flattened the tabards, a light shade of brown over her darker tunic, very similar to her Master's, but shorter. Obi-Wan could not tell if any of the shadows on her legs or sides were stains. He thought he could smell blood.
Lastly, Qui-Gon unclipped the lightsaber from the belt. He briefly held it in both hands. The white light glinted off of its silver metal. He turned it over, his thumb hesitating over a gold activation switch at the black base of the hilt. Then he laid it across the stomach. Master Narimoyak would decide what to do with it.
By the pyre, she had gathered dry scraps and bits of leftover stalks into a small pile and started a fire. It was dark. The mountain, the forest, the rocks beyond their lights had disappeared. The night around them was black and opaque with no moon, no stars and no distant lights of any kind, just them.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan picked up the improvised bier and took it to the pyre. They halted before Master Narimoyak and she picked up her Padawan's lightsaber. Her long fingers caressed the black handgrip and its silver length for a moment. Then she clipped it to her own belt, bowed her head and stepped back. They then slid the bier to its place on top of the pyre.
Qui-Gon, then Narimoyak went to get their robes, still lying on the ground at the edge of the light. Obi-Wan hurried to get his, over where he had left their equipment.
They stood together in a line before the unlit pyre, robed and hooded, for one solemn moment. Then Master Narimoyak stepped forward, bent down and took up the end of a long tough stalk sticking out of the fire. They waited while she stood, holding the improvised torch with one hand; she held the edges of her robe together with the other. The fire crackled in the still oppressive air.
"No," she finally said, lowering the flame and tossing it back to the fire. "It's too soon. We should wait for morning."
"What?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice loud in the gloom.
"We need to wait for morning," she repeated. Qui-Gon strode up to her.
"There is no reason to put this off. You do yourself and your Padawan a disservice by prolonging this." He pressed his argument, his greater size and height looming over her. "We cannot delay. We risk attracting predators if we wait for morning."
"No," the hood of her robe moved from side to side, but her voice sounded much older than it had before. "I will take the watch."
"No," Qui-Gon stepped even closer to her, almost touching, but she still shook her head, hidden under the hood of her robe. He turned, leaving her and bent down to the fire. "If you cannot, then I will—"
"No!" The Force surged.
"Augh!"
The stalk flew out of Qui-Gon's hand to land on the rocks beyond their island of light. Qui-Gon clutched his hand and Obi-Wan saw a glimpse of blood on it. He went to his Master.
Narimoyak stayed frozen in place, her arm still outstretched, her hood thrown back from her horned head, her pale eyes gleaming with emotion.
Qui-Gon's hand had been gashed and scraped when the fern stalk had been ripped from it.
"Master." Obi-Wan pointed and led Qui-Gon to sit next to the light. Qui-Gon kept looking back at Narimoyak. She had dropped her arm and now wearily gazed back, not making eye contact with either of them, but still watching.
"There's something missing," she said, a note of pleading in her aged voice.
Obi-Wan took the medical pouch off of his belt and took out antiseptic/anesthetic pads. They had both added medical pouches to their belts before they had first left the ship on their rescue mission.
Obi-Wan turned Qui-Gon's hand to the light and pushed the hood of his robe off his head to see better. His thin Padawan's braid fell forward; he tucked it back and dabbed at the blood with a clean pad. It wasn't bleeding too badly; most of the damage was from red, jagged scrapes, but he saw a long black sliver embedded in the palm, just under the skin. He took out a medical multi-tool and began to probe the edges of the sliver, testing whether he could pull it out from the exposed end, or if it would need to be cut out.
"Your request is irrational," Qui-Gon stated over Obi-Wan's head.
"Yes, it is." Narimoyak replied, her voice stronger now.
"I do not understand your purpose," Qui-Gon continued. Obi-Wan experimentally pulled on the sliver with the pincer on the multi-tool.
"Nor do I. That is why it is irrational." Footsteps on the rocks moved toward them. The sliver came out part way but then resisted his pull. Qui-Gon's fingers twitched, but he kept his hand still.
"If your purpose is to be irrational, I cannot help you." Qui-Gon did not raise his voice, but his patience had clearly run out.
Footsteps again crossed the gritty rocks and then the sound of movement as Narimoyak sat down next to them. "Some things cannot be helped," she said wistfully.
Obi-Wan tried squeezing the skin at the end of the sliver still underneath and that seemed to help; it slid all the way out this time and he gratefully flicked it away. A little droplet of blood followed it and he reached for another cleaning pad to wipe the wound with. He again turned Qui-Gon's hand toward the light to make sure it was all out and that there were no more slivers.
"This whole episode was unnecessary. We could have returned to the Temple for this," Qui-Gon stated. Finally satisfied, Obi-Wan covered the injury with a pre-treated bacta patch and began to wrap a bandage around the hand to hold it in place.
"Deena asked for this. To be cremated here, since this was the planet where she came from. She said it felt right," the older Jedi Master said. Qui-Gon remained silent this time. "She could speak, nearly to the end...she only died just before you arrived."
"We know," Obi-Wan said, suddenly looking up from the closure on the bandage. The lines and wrinkles on Narimoyak's face were black with shadow and her horns stood out against the darkness behind her. Her brown skin looked washed out in the white light. "We felt it when we dropped out of orbit." He bowed his head again. "We couldn't come any sooner."
Again, Obi-Wan felt the back of Narimoyak's fingers brush his cheek. His eyes looked up at her.
"You are unfocused, Padawan Obi-Wan," she told him. He lowered his eyes again. He had hoped she would not notice.
Ever since they had found the two other Jedi and Master Narimoyak had laid her dead Padawan down before them, he had kept his thoughts only on the physical tasks before him. He had kept his mind busy with the mundane details of lifting and carrying, selecting and arranging the lights, their equipment, doing everything with his body alone, the Force only a blurry and unused presence in the periphery of his senses.
Without focus and clarity of instinct, a Jedi could not distinguish the subtleties of the Force from the ordinary clutter of random thoughts and intuition, could not connect to its flow and direct it, could not draw strength from it. But with strength and ability came insight and awareness of the essences of others; it could not be shut out; it was the Force. So, Jedi trained to let this flow through themselves as well, to let all the stray flickers of passions, the living thought fragments, the jumble of possibilities in the Force pass through them and away, just as they did their own emotions.
But now the cool, aged hand on his cheek brought back the clarity that he had been avoiding for hours and its connection to a crushing sorrow that he had never experienced and instinctively wanted to hold back. He had seen death before and he had caused it; Obi-Wan did not know why he felt this one so deeply within.
"Obi-Wan." His Master spoke and he turned. Qui-Gon's eyes, dark and shadowed under his hood, looked intently at him. "I am sorry. I was not aware that you found this so difficult. I should have seen before now." Qui-Gon's hands closed over his. They were warm with the Force, powerful and strong with memory and regret.
"You are fearful because the grief changes you." Qui-Gon leaned toward him. "You must let it." Obi-Wan's cheek now felt warm where Narimoyak had touched him.
"Obi-Wan." He stared, transfixed by his Master's gaze, the dark blue eyes almost black in shadow. "Clear your mind."
His eyes closed.
Three beings on a barren patch of a living world, with the transparent fragments of another, younger than he was, smiling, clever, quick with her lightsaber, green like her Master's, like her eyes, and she was still growing, would be taller than her Master someday, and a lively Jedi Knight who would train many Padawans like her Master, but now that future was torn into little haunting pieces because on a ship when something went wrong, it went wrong, and likely if the Force would guide you it would have already led you not to board beforehand, so there was no help for it, and if they had been assigned the other ship for their mission, Qui-Gon might be standing over his own broken body, or he over Qui-Gon's, or they might both be incinerated in a fireball for others to find and mourn over the remains, or the faulty stabilizers might have been fixed properly at their destination and no one might have been killed...
Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged, tears running down his cheeks. It was all supposed to pass through him, but it didn't. The terrible possibilities filled him up with their imaginings. A hand gently stroked his hair. He looked down at Qui-Gon's large hands, covering his own.
"It does pass, young one," Narimoyak's low voice said, close to his ear. "But you will be changed from it."
Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon lifted his bandaged hand to him, touching his cheek and this new grief. His Master felt the same sadness, but it was old and worn with years; it had passed through him many times.
Master Narimoyak's hand left him and Obi-Wan turned as she began to rise.
Leaning over Qui-Gon, her hands lifted and cradled his face, pushing back his hood so that her forehead touched his; her hands caressed his beard. Obi-Wan stayed very still, watching their long shared moment of compassion, Master to Master. The possibilities for one were not so for the other.
Narimoyak stood, a tiny smile on her lips as she lifted her dark hood over her head; her face returned to shadow. Obi-Wan saw a glint of tears on Qui-Gon's face. They rose as well, Obi-Wan putting his own hood on, and they went back to the fire. It had gone down but not out. Master Narimoyak lit a loose stalk from it and carried it to the pyre. She lit the dried dead leaves stuffed between the stalks at six points around the base of the pyre, making sure that the fire caught each time.
Master Narimoyak stepped away from the growing fire. She stopped to turn off the artificial light and pick it up before walking back to them.
The three of them stood together, their arms tucked into their sleeves. The flames flicked and climbed up to the small body and soon surrounded it. The light and the heat increased, the fire roaring upward into the darkness.
Obi-Wan stood between Qui-Gon and Narimoyak; the robes on either side of him touched his own. The impenetrable night yielded to the enormous beacon that they had made of Deena Sh'Shemi's body. Swarms of sparks and glowing bits of ash flew up into the darkness. Blasts of heat came off of the pyre, but Obi-Wan did not feel them nearly as deeply as he did the warmth of the two Jedi Masters with him.
END - - - Narimoyak: Sudden Death, continued in Narimoyak: Odd Assembly
(this story first posted on tf.n: 22-Apr-2006)
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.