X. Justice
They were all there - Bastila, Juhani, the two droids, and poor Zaalbar, still chained to the wall in the chieftain's hall - when they emerged from the Shadowlands. Val had demanded that they return to the village immediately. They'd have to bring their full complement with them, if they expected to get past whatever had taken out Jolee.
They had to have Zaalbar.
Canderous insisted that Jolee had left before whatever-it-was could have found him - but Val had seen it. She'd seen the hideous red blade, she'd watched him gasping out his last few painful breaths. Nothing but death could have left that awful scar on her mind.
Juhani shifted next to her, watching the ugly drama before them intently. Chundaar made pronouncement after ridiculous pronouncement, demanding reparations from Valena and her companions which would have amounted to more than the Ebon Hawk was worth - had they any intention of going along with the petty tyrant. Val translated quietly, shaking her head in fury as Chundaar went on to declare that Zaalbar was to be transferred to Czerka ownership. Perhaps they could break his dear brother of his madclaw tendencies.
Mission started crying. Val hugged her, feeling helpless. The Wookiees had demanded they turn over their weapons before entering the chieftain's house. A Jedi, of course, was never without the Force - but Jolee had been strong in the Force, too.
Someone outside pounded on the door. One of the Czerka guards stationed around the chamber answered. Val turned to look, but couldn't see who it was. She could hear what sounded like a ceremonial answer given in a sing-song, archaic Wookiee dialect.
The guard shook his head, his hand going to the blaster at his belt, but the door slammed inward, splintering on its hinges.
The biggest Wookiee Valena had ever seen stood silhouetted in the doorway, the broken body of another guard in one huge paw. He dropped the guard like a ruined doll as he tromped in, snarling at everyone and everything; then stopped, dripping rain, before Chundaar. He bent over slightly, and spat in Chundaar's face.
The hall erupted. Valena and the other Jedi kept the Czerka guards busy, yanking away their blasters with the Force, while the Wookiees piled up in a literal furball in the middle of the great hall. One by one, the smaller bodies were thrown out of the fight, until there were only three left.
The big, grey-furred Wookiee shoved Chuundar against a wall. Stalking past him, he lifted Zaalbar bodily to his feet, and without any noticeable effort snapped his chains. He said something in the same strange dialect, and Zaalbar straightened, showing his teeth.
Val felt someone come up behind her and turned around. Her jaw dropped open. "Jolee - you're alive!"
"Eh. In a manner of speaking." The old man hobbled on one good leg, his right arm curled around his stomach, and one eye swollen shut. "Thought you kids were going to come visit my old friend Freyr with me?"
"But - but I saw you die!"
"Almost did," Jolee remarked, looking Valena up and down suspiciously with his one good eye.
"But what happened to you? Is that - wait, that's Freyr?"
Jolee's scowl disappeared into a maniacal grin. "Sure is. He didn't want to come, so I had to beat him up a little."
"I don't understand," she complained. "Why are you - how are you - "
"Heh. Sounds like you met up with something even more dangerous than my old friend here."
The big Wookiee - Freyr - now stood between Zaalbar and Chundaar, holding two objects up for everyone to see. One was the blade Val and Canderous had retrieved from the Terentatek carcass; the other was the broken hilt they'd last seen hanging on the wall. There was a chorus of reverent Wookiee mutters and growls.
Freyr said something Val could almost understand, and the Wookiees gathered in the hall roared with approval. The five Czerka guards looked at each other nervously, and Val was even more glad she and her Jedi companions had disarmed them. Chundaar stood up from the wall, straightened his ceremonial necklace, and growled something about his rule being confirmed by the return of his father.
"So Freyr is their father?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Jolee chuckled. "After he banished Zaalbar, Freyr realized what a bad mistake he'd made when Chundaar showed his true colors. Left the village, lived in the Shadowlands for years, waiting for something to come along and finish him off. He's half-mad now, doesn't even remember how to speak Shyriiwook, just Old Xaczic, from where he grew up."
Zaalbar shook the broken manacles from his wrists and stood tall, not saying anything. Val's heart went out to him. Freyr moved out of the way, and the two Wookiees began circling each other slowly.
"Jolee?" Mission said tremulously. "What's going on?"
The old man laid a gentle hand on Mission's shoulder, beneath one of her curving lekku. "An old tradition, one that goes even farther back than the Republic." His voice was soft, devoid of its usual good humor. "They're going to let the Force and their own strength decide who's right… and who's dead."
"No," Mission whispered. Val moved next to her, putting her arm around her back, and the rest of the group moved in as well, as if it weren't Zaalbar in danger, but the young Twi'lek instead.
The two Wookiees exploded into action, more agile and quick than their huge size suggested. Their fight was nothing like the teräs käsi that most Jedi practiced, or any kind of wrestling or grappling Val had ever seen, but something in between, something brutal and fierce. She could hear the crunch of impact as bodies smashed together, the ripping sound of fur tearing, and the chuffing, growling breath of the two combatants.
Neither spoke, but Val could see early on that it was no contest. Chundaar was slightly taller, but even after days of confinement, Zaalbar was stronger than his brother. The chieftain tried a desperate throw, but Zaalbar turned his weight against him and somehow - quicker than Val could follow - had him in a reverse throat lock, one arm wrapped securely around his brother's neck.
Chundaar's arm flashed up, Val felt a horrified sinking feeling - and then a blaster sang out.
Chundaar collapsed to the floor, dead, his fur smoking from the burns in his chest.
A room full of angry Wookiees rounded on Carth Onasi. "What, you didn't see that? Don't tell me you didn't see that!"
"See what?" Val asked.
"No, wait!" Mission cried. "Look!"
The Wookiees followed her gaze. Chundaar's right hand was still outstretched in his final, frantic attempt to save his own life. The torchlight glinted strangely off his fingers, and with a start Val realized that the Wookiee had been fighting with his claws out.
Zaalbar hit the floor with a tired sigh, his dark fur soaked even darker with his own blood.
The Wookiee holding Carth let him go, growling something that sounded like justice. The other Wookiees took up the word and passed it around themselves, turning it into a chant, then a roar. The Czerka guards tried to run, but it was too little, too late. In moments they were dead, the door thrown wide, Wookiees pouring out into the night.
It was raining, but the drumming, hissing downpour couldn't drown out the sudden zing of blasters, the screams of dying Czerka, and the roar of a fierce world freeing itself.
One of the only two Wookiees left in the great hall moved forward, helped his son to stand, and gave him a slow hug. Justice, Freyr repeated to Zaalbar, and Zaalbar answered with the same growling word.
Mission gave a whoop of pure joy and threw herself into her best friend's arms.
Mission wasn't going to let Zaalbar out of her sight ever again.
The Wookiees had let them stay in Rwookrrorro until Val and the others had found their Star Map. Zaalbar was their chieftain now, and Mission was alternately thrilled for him, and nervous for herself. She liked Zaalbar an awful lot, of course - loved him even - but she wasn't sure she could handle life in a whole village of Wookiees.
But it didn't come to that. Zaalbar had a long talk with his father. The huge Wookiee had frightened Mission at first, but once Big Z had introduced them, Freyr had treated Mission with kindness and warm affection, almost as if she were an adopted daughter. Zaalbar decided that he couldn't stay on Kashyyyk, even after regaining his honor in his father's eyes. He still didn't feel that he had redeemed himself; and his wounds, from more than just his battle with Chundaar, were still too deep.
So Freyr would take up his old duties again. It would give the old Wookiee time to heal himself, as well. He presented Zaalbar with a repaired and reforged Bacca's Blade, to remind him that he had his home and honor back. To remind him that someday he had to return for good.
Mission swore silently that Zaalbar wouldn't come back alone.
When Val and the others returned from their final visit to the Shadowlands - Val looking pale and shaken - Zaalbar presented Bacca's Blade to her. A few of the other Wookiees growled in low disapproval, but Freyr simply looked at them, and they gave way.
"Uh, thank you," Val said. "I'm honored. But shouldn't this stay with you?"
It would stay with him, Zaalbar reassured her, because he himself would stay with her. She saved his life, helped him save his and his village's honor. And so for himself, and for his people, he was swearing a life debt to her.
It stung Mission to hear him say those words to someone else, even someone as deserving of them as Val. But only until she decided that a "life debt" was exactly what she herself owed to Zaalbar. He was more than simply her best friend. He was the big brother she wished she'd had - the brother she did have, it had just taken her this long to realize it.
So she took a life debt of her own that evening, one sworn silently so that no one else could hear. Maybe Zaalbar realized it, because he began sticking to her just as closely as she to him.
Mission felt like she had finally grown up.
There was a small celebration going on in the galley, where Carth, Bastila, Mission, and Zaalbar were all laughing and sharing a drink. Even Bastila was indulging, Val noticed with a small smile. Carth raised his glass to the young Jedi; Bastila looked away too soon, but she was trying to hide a blush.
Val didn't feel much like celebrating. That last Star Map - something was so wrong about it. None of the other maps had had that strange alien holographic presence that talked to her, that whispered monstrous things before opening the machine.
That insisted she'd been there before.
She drifted through the small freighter, wishing there were some place to really be alone. She stopped short at the starboard berth, hearing Juhani sobbing. Then she heard another voice, Jolee's, in a slow, comforting rhythm.
If she hadn't been so confused and unsure herself, she would have joined the old man in talking Juhani out of yet another of her self-hating moods.
She backed out as quietly as she could, but bumped into Canderous, seeming no more in the mood to celebrate than Val.
"Oh," she said. "Hi."
He nodded solemnly at her. "It was good to see Zaalbar's people regain their strength."
Val blinked at that un-Canderous remark. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my Mandalorian?"
His signature smirk reappeared, and Val's mood suddenly lightened. "Your Mandalorian?" Canderous repeated, as if turning the words over in his mind. "I think I like the sound of that." He bent down to exchange a deep kiss with her. There was heat there, but banked low and shielded behind the understanding that Val wanted to keep what was between them private - for now.
Val's whole body caught fire, and she had almost decided it was worth the virulent lectures a certain young Jedi would give her, until the sound of delicate footsteps echoing on the deck plates made her pull away and catch her breath. She straightened her tunic and smoothed her hair back while Canderous made himself scarce with a curse.
Bastila appeared, looking slightly flustered. "I thought Canderous was here a moment ago?" Val contrived to look innocent, but Bastila went on. "Never mind. I would like a moment of your time to speak to both of you."
Oh, boy, Val thought, here it comes.
But then Bastila said, "Carth, too, actually. I owe all of you a bit of an apology."
Now Val was confused, but she nodded and followed Bastila. Canderous was already waiting just outside the overcrowded cockpit.
Carth, legs propped up on the instrument board, kept one eye on their hyperspace course. Canderous leaned against the hatchway, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Val realized that the two men had, somewhere along the line, become much easier with each other.
With a polite apology, Bastila squeezed past the big Mandalorian. She steepled her hands, seemed to realized how silly the gesture looked, and finally stuck her hands in her belt with an uncomfortable shrug.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I should have gone down to the Shadowlands on Kashyyyk, not you, Valena."
"Huh?"
"Your story of what happened - seeing Jolee die. The Sith were there. Probably not Malak himself, but an apprentice named Darth Bandon, known to be skilled in mental deception. The illusion you described was much too complicated for the usual sort of fallen Jedi or frustrated padawan the Sith attract into their ranks."
"But the way he was talking, the stuff he said to me…"
"Yes. He obviously thought you were me. I doubt the Sith know anything about you, Valena, and they certainly know nothing of your potential. If they did, Malak would not have sent a mere apprentice - not even this Bandon."
Carth sat up, putting his feet firmly on the floor. "So, would you mind actually telling us why the Sith want you in particular so badly, Bastila?"
"I - have a talent that is somewhat rare, both among the Jedi and, we can assume, the Sith. Battle meditation is far from unheard of, but trust me that I am not boasting when I tell you that I have the strongest skill in living memory."
Canderous moved for the first time, his eyes sharpening on Bastila and one hand thoughtfully curling over his mouth.
"What does that mean?" Val asked.
"It means your Jedi princess can influence the outcome of a battle, any battle, without even being there."
Bastila sniffed at Canderous' princess remark, but didn't disagree.
"I'm still confused," Val complained. "What, you just twiddle your fingers, and poof, the Republic wins every time?"
Bastila started to explain, but Canderous cut her off. "Ever played dejarik? Imagine that your pieces are really starship captains, fighter pilots, corvette crews - they all have their orders, but they also have their own ideas about how to pull them off, and they're limited by their own abilities. You could just tell your dejarik pieces what to do, and they'd probably do it, but maybe they'd be too fast, or too slow, or they'd get forked. You tell your k'lor'slug to take your enemy's savrip, and it'll do what you tell it, but then your slug gets taken out by his monnok. Now imagine that you're in direct control of those pieces, as if they're a part of you. You can coordinate them like no normal commander can - even confuse your enemy's pieces - because you have control over the entire board."
Bastila cleared her throat. "I was going to compare it to being the conductor of an orchestra, but I suppose Canderous' description will do. You do seem to have a very good grasp of the concept, anyway," she said to the Mandalorian.
"Comes of being on the receiving end of a few attacks coordinated by battle meditation. Yours, it turns out."
"Oh, whoa, wait a minute!" Val stepped in between the two, her hands spread wide. "You didn't tell me you fought under Revan and Malak in the Mandalorian Wars, Bastila!"
The young Jedi stood straighter, her head cocked as if waiting for a challenge. "Yes. I followed my Master to war, until he was killed in the final battle on Malachor Five. Revan herself commanded my battle meditation, and I respected her greatly. Without me, the whole galaxy would be speaking Mandalorian by now."
"Ha," Canderous replied. "You won the war single-handedly, did you? I seem to recall things differently. I have the honor of having been defeated, hand-to-hand, by Revan herself. And let me tell you, little girl: you're no Revan." He turned on his heel and stalked out, making no effort to conceal his dry laughter.
"No," Bastila murmured, her back stiff. "I am a better woman than she."
Troubled, Val followed Canderous into the cargo hold, and locked the hatch behind her. He was correcting a dent in his breastplate at the workbench. She slid her arms around his warm torso, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, and listened to him work for a moment.
"You knew Revan?"
The ring of the autohammer stopped. "I didn't say I knew her, I said I had the honor of being defeated by her."
She loosened her arms as he turned to face her. "I don't understand. How can there be honor in losing a battle, for a Mandalorian?"
There it was again - the blue blade, the ringing command to yield - dancing across the surface of his mind. She felt his breath quicken. "There is no shame in defeat at the hands of an honorable opponent." Hands tangling in her hair, he kissed her, then murmured, "I would have followed Revan to the ends of the galaxy and back, if she had asked it of me."
For a moment Val felt a stab of jealousy. But Revan was long gone, and Val couldn't imagine that former hero having anything but contempt for such an enemy.