Facets of the Same Crystal
I - Building Pressure Underwater
I woke up that morning, knowing things were about to change on me.
My real name is Opal, and that is what they used to know me by on Domus Prime, my homeworld. In fact, there is still a student named Opal listed as enrolled at the Domus Prime Foundation for Higher Learning, but it has been a long time since she attended classes, preferring to study by correspondence now that she has been given the chance to travel and see the Galaxy.
Now, I have as many names as faces, and although I serve the Queen still, not many people know about it. Just me, my teacher, and the Grand Admiral and Queen, well, they know when we can get around to reporting to them. But usually, we just work from somewhat vague orders, gathering information and occasionally influencing events.
All this was all well and good for us, I was learning a lot of new skills and things in the Galaxy did not really need much interference from us. Peace is all very well and good, but it does leave people in my line of work without much to do.
Which was why I was somewhat glad (though I felt guilty about it), when word reached us of the Grand Admiral's latest crusade.
For some reason, the message we received was a hard copy scrap of flexi-plast, passed over to my teacher by a seedy-looking soldier at the bar we were visiting on Coruscant. To this day I do not how he found us, or if a million copies of that note had been handed out to a million soldiers in the hopes of someone recognising us. Not that they would have had any difficulty with that, at least, not with recognising my teacher. She is a pretty distinct character.
In fact, you might have heard of her. Her name is Aurra Sing and she is one of the Galaxy's best bounty hunters, but these days she works for the Queen of Domus Prime on a semi-legitimate basis. What that means is, she formally works as a spy and information gatherer, and she never tells the Queen about exactly what the occasional extra charges she incurs are.
As for her appearance, well, words fail me. If you ever saw my teacher, you would know what I mean. Which is why she took me on, because I blend in. After all, who would ever suspect that the sweet girl sitting in the corner reading a book about advanced mathematical subspaces was actually apprentice to an assassin? Not I, that is for certain.
Anyway, I was talking about the message. My teacher shoved it in a pocket when she first read it, not caring how it crumbled or tore, and I could tell that she was unimpressed. Unfortunately, at the time I could not go and speak to her for fear of blowing our cover, my teacher believed that she had finally managed to track down a certain enemy of Domus Prime, and she was making sure before she made the final decision about how to deal with him.
So I simply continued with what I was doing, which was flirting a little with the bartender and enjoying my first drink in a month. As we chatted, he gave me all the information I needed to ensure that when we caught him, my teacher's target would spend a long time in prison on Domus Prime. If of course we could be bothered transporting him. After all, my teacher's ship only really suits two, and this is Coruscant; no one would ever notice one more body lying in a gutter on ground level.
I probably sound really cynical to you, what can I say? I have seen the worst the Galaxy has to offer, and now I find it really hard to care. A long time ago, back in the days of innocence, I was kidnapped by a Sith Lord and it was he who carved the tattoo on my back: "Child of Darkness". Because of that tattoo, I was betrayed by my friends and horribly tortured. I do not remember any of this, however, it was all wiped from my memory; by friend or foe, I cannot say. And since I do not remember, I hold no animosity towards those responsible. Yet the Child of Darkness is as much a part of me as the rest of my past, she keeps me sane in this world of criminals, thieves and murderers.
It was two days before I next saw my teacher, and although I noticed the spot of blood on the bottom of her pants I said nothing. I had learned to ignore such things as one would ignore the tantrum of a spoiled child. It would serve no purpose to talk about such things, my ideals did not match those of my teacher with regard to murder, she could never see my side of things, believing me weak and emotional.
She stormed into my hotel room like a thundercloud, sparks flashing in her eyes and her ponytail flashing behind her as she walked up to where I was studying and threw down a crumpled piece of flexi-plast on the table. I reached out a hand to take it, my eyes never leaving my teacher's face.
She took a deep breath as though seeking to calm herself. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew her card-keys and placed them on the table. "It's time you start earning your way", she said, "Take the ship. I'll meet you on DP when you're done. Try not to cause too much trouble."
I blinked in surprise. This was a little much, coming from the woman who normally would not let me even in the cockpit of her precious ship. Maybe she had found out about my latest set of scores on the training simulators. I shrugged inwardly, whatever had happened it could only be for the best as I finally had some responsibility given to me.
Aurra then gathered up the few things of hers I had lying around, before sweeping from the room in one of her famous dramatic gestures. I was just as suddenly aware of the silence she left in her wake, and as I looked down at the note in my hand a feeling of foreboding swept over me.
The note was brief and to the point. It stated in no uncertain terms that the Grand Admiral in all his infinite wisdom had decided that the Galaxy would be a better place without the existence of a certain Gungan who was known as Jar-Jar Binks, and that he was willing to spend the entirety of the Domus Prime Royal Forces to achieve that goal. The writer of the message suggested that she would prefer a more peaceful resolution, before the Grand Admiral could ride out and start destroying things. And so the task fell to my teacher and I, or rather, me, since it was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with all this.
I had heard about this Jar-Jar creature before from my teacher, and so her reluctance to deal with this was somewhat understanding. She had told me once of how much she hated her visits to Naboo, and wherever possible she avoided the place.
Oh well, at least I was being trusted with the ship. I'd decide what to do about Jar-Jar when I got there.
The sun shining on the face of Naboo is breathtakingly beautiful. One cannot appreciate the stories until arriving discretely on the planet and finding a quiet place to land.
I had made the trip through hyperspace without incident, and if things went well I would be back on Domus Prime in less than two days.
The only difficulty I could foresee, aside from not being able to kill him, was finding Jar-Jar. I had read up on the Gungans on the way to Naboo, and according to all sources they were a reclusive bunch, more suited to hiding in their underwater cities than in being sociable and easy targets.
Still, I made a few calls to some of my teacher's friends, and it was they who told me that General Binks was going to be visiting the capital, Theed, for a few days this week as part of his role as ambassador to the Naboo. So I grabbed my teacher's bike from the small bay at the back of the ship, and set out to investigate Theed.
My first sight of Jar-Jar Binks led me to believe that he was a tall frog-like creature, with a horse-shaped face and obscene floppy ears that did not serve any obvious biological purpose. In fact, I have studied biology a little, and looking at the Gungans I had no idea how or why they had evolved that way. Their genetic makeup was absurd in the utmost; it made no sense whatsoever. Well, that is not true. It did make them easily recognisable.
General Jar-Jar was walking through the streets when I first encountered him, he was wearing a jacket of some sort that seemed to be a part of a uniform, and ugly tight pants that just looked wrong. Some people can wear clothes like that and get away with it, but he was not one of them. For a moment I considered arresting him in the name of the fashion police, but figured I would need at least one more outfit's worth of evidence before we could convict him. I sighed and turned back to the market to finish my bargain.
We were just about done settling the price when suddenly the piece of silk in question was yanked away by an unseen tongue. I looked up sharply, to see Jar-Jar fingering the remnant thoughtfully, unaware of the trouble he would cause here in Theed by disrupting a bargain. His bodyguards had moved in closer though, they knew that there could very easily be a fight in the next few seconds.
"Could yousa make a dress for mesa friends insa Castle?" Jar-Jar asked, holding up the silk before the merchant. My hand was already on the blaster I had insisted upon wearing, and I surprised myself by clenching my fingers around the trigger upon his beginning to speak in that accent.
"What do you think you are doing, stupid?" I demanded angrily, spinning around to face him. Even though the Gungan was two feet taller than I, he took a step back as though frightened. "I was going to buy that silk before you put your dirty mitts on it."
"Mesa berry sorry", he said, bowing slightly, "But it wasna mesa hands, itsa was mesa tongue, and I didna know yousa was bargaining."
"So you are blind as well as stupid", I said, drawing my blaster and firing it just before his feet, missing deliberately. His two bodyguards stepped forward, one to escort Jar-Jar from the suddenly-dangerous markets, the second to try to appease my temper, which matched my hair at that moment.
I understood in that moment what the Grand Admiral had been going through, why he would be willing to force an entire planet to go to war to remove one being from the Galaxy. After all, if I had been willing to kill him just over some silk in the market place, my irrational hatred was pretty amazing.
I put the blaster away and stormed away from the marketplace, ditching the wig and contact lenses on the way. If anyone was searching for the redhead who had caused such an outburst they would not find her, she had disappeared as completely as the sun beneath the horizon in those last minutes of the day.
That night I sat down to think for a time. After all, I was not really cut out to be an assassin, I hated the thought of killing people for money or politics. And from what I had seen, Jar-Jar was stupid and irritating, but he did not seem terribly harmful. Then again, his existence brought the average IQ of the Galaxy down by fifty points, so maybe knocking him off would be a good thing for us all.
Still, to actually kill someone, that would be hard for me to bear.
The next day I set off for the Palace with the best of intentions, seeking the Gungan with the hopes of finding an excuse not to remove him the way my teacher wanted. I wore a long gown of blue much like those favourite around Theed Palace, and my hair was a gorgeous long blonde.
A Jedi Knight stood guard on the third floor hallway where I wanted to pass. "What are you doing here?" He asked the question lightly, but I could feel his mind probing mine like a tickling sensation in my head. I had never been Force-sensitive before, but perhaps it was an after effect of the Sith attacking me that time.
I kept my thoughts neutral, smiling up at him. "I was just looking for the General Binks. I was supposed to have an audience with him today." Actually, I had not organised such a thing until the night before, when I had broken into the Palace's computers and rearranged the General's schedule for today.
The Jedi raised one eyebrow, flashing gorgeous baby blue eyes at me. "Jar-Jar is currently meeting with the Queen. We've had some computer problems that meant his current discussions were put back a few hours."
"That's too bad", I murmured politely, "Do you know if he would be able to reschedule?"
"I don't think that will be possible", he said, shaking his head slightly so that his medium-length brown hair waved, before turning to look out of a nearby window. "Jar-Jar will be leaving the Palace tomorrow." I sighed at the inevitability of that; I really didn't want to have to chase the Gungan down to one of the hidden cities. Without looking at me, the Jedi continued, his eyes staring out the window, his voice impassive. "Jar-Jar is going home by bongo", he said, "I believe it is currently sitting down by a wharf near the entrance to the Palace. And I cannot remember the last time I heard of anyone servicing one of those things. They are the most unreliable form of transport this side of Coruscant."
"Oh", I said, not looking at him, keeping my own voice steady as I tried to interpret his meaning, "thank you."
Turning, I walked away from that section of the Palace, wondering at the strange undercurrents to Palace life that seemed to exist on all worlds.
I still wonder that no one was guarding Jar-Jar's bongo.
The electronics that operated the machine were amazingly simple, and easy enough to manipulate. No one looking at it would ever see the changes I had made unless they were an expert, and no one there seemed to care enough to want to look for them.
Later, sitting in a hotel room that I rented care of the Domus Prime treasury, I did some research on that Jedi. Not much information was available to me, even looking where I did in some places I probably shouldn't have had access to, just a name: Obi-Wan Kenobi. I filed away that knowledge for later reference, and curled up in bed with the intent of studying in the morning.
Early the next morning, my computer alerted me somewhat noisily to the fact that someone had left me a message. My first thought was that it must have been the Grand Admiral, after all, he is known for forgetting about time differences whenever it suits him, but in fact it was my teacher, who firstly told me off for ordering room service the previous night and secondly congratulated me on the spectacular explosion she had witnessed on the media on whatever world she was currently on.
'Explosion?' My sleep-wracked brain tried to comprehend what was going on, and then I remembered my tinkering with the bongo the day before. I didn't think I had done enough to cause an explosion though. Turning on a viewscreen I called up what local news I could. Over and over they were showing a bongo exploding rather dramatically somewhere underwater. The footage was broken frequently to be replaced by concerned peoples talking about how it was a horrible accident and how much General Binks would be missed by all who knew him.
Even in my half-asleep state, something didn't ring true. Because I knew what I had done to the bongo, and all that I could be blamed for would have been the power cutting out about five minutes out from Theed. What had happened didn't make sense.
Blonde hair shining in the moonlight, I quickly walked over to the Palace, knowing without knowing how I knew that no one would even notice me in this guise. Obi-Wan Kenobi was waiting in one of the almost deserted passages, and I walked straight up to him, trying to look as distraught as those around me. "What happened?" I asked directly, not bothering with any preamble.
"No one is able to tell for sure, and it is doubted they will ever recover the wreckage. As far as anyone can tell, it was a horrible accident." Did the man never show any emotion? He was impossible.
"What do you think about that?"
"The Jedi are peaceful. We would do anything in our power to prevent a war." Somehow I suspected the rules had been bent this time, just a little. As I started to turn to leave, one last question occurred to me.
"Who was the one to make the holovids the media keep playing?"
Obi-Wan's blue eyes twinkled with hidden merriment at my enquiry, though his voice was still empty of all tone. It seems that no one else had thought to ask that question yet. "I am not entirely sure. My personal belief is that someone tipped them off."
"Oh", I said simply, "thank you."
"You're welcome", he said politely, "I didn't catch your name."
"It's Crystal", I told him, "and it was nice meeting you, Jedi Kenobi."
So in truth, I have no doubt about the level of my involvement in the preventative action, which stopped a war and probably saved the lives of many. Jar-Jar was dead, that was all that mattered, and if my teacher and my Queen believed that I was responsible, then so be it. Far better for them to believe that I was the one who solved their problem than if they started to question whom else could have been the one who caused the explosion.
And when I told my teacher that I was not ready for any further explorations in that field of study, she understood completely, telling me that we could defer that part of my tuition until I was better equipped emotionally to deal with it.
For now, I would concentrate on some of the less stressful areas of my work, and smile every time I remember the hidden smirk in Obi-Wan's otherwise toneless voice. I would have to practice hard if I wanted to ever emulate that style.