On Distant Shores (XII)
Truth is the most dangerous thing in the galaxy – Jedi proverb
Morning found the two Jedi on the beach again, their weapons laid aside in favor of a more quiet, intense discipline. Barefoot, graceful, they moved in slow synchrony through all one hundred ten forms of the extended alchaka meditations, keeping perfect balance and changing position as gradually as a heliotrope turning its adoring face to the sun. The only sound was the sea lapping against the shore.
Satine and Tip watched from a respectful distance, in silent wonder, as the exquisite demanding dance played itself out over the course of an hour or so. The shadows cast by the rising sun slowly shortened and the sky filled with a vibrant heraldry, soundless clarion cry of the day's beginning. A wind rose over the sea and blew a steady breath of warm, salty air over their upraised faces. Still the Jedi did not break concentration or cease, or even utter a word. They held the final position for three full minutes, then gradually relaxed into meditation posture, facing the surf.
"I think they are either prella wise of prella crazy," Tip observed dispassionately.
"A little of both, I suppose," Satine replied quietly. "And perhaps there is little difference in the end."
"Well, then," Tip cheerfully decided. "I am not going to be wise. I would rather have breakfast. Come! Now the waves are ebbing.. Time for looking in the tidepools. My belly is empty and aching."
Satine pressed her lips together. How Tip's belly could be anything but full after his gluttonous indulgence at every meal, she could not imagine. She followed the energetic Nautolan over the wet sands and onto a jumble of loose rocks at the water's edge, watching as he scrambled over the slippery footholds, scrabbling between the cracks and crevices with long, nimble fingers. "Look!" he called. "We have found a treasure."
She followed him onto the loose shale and stones, and crouched down, peering into his outstretched palms. There lay a small pile of gleaming round eggs, each as large as a ripe wine berry. They were shot through with gold and green; their slick curves glinted with moisture.
"Carrpi eggs," Tip announced. "These must be early. Breeding season is starting only maybe a week ago. Delicious. We will feast this morning."
But the Duchess had another, less cheerful thought. "Tip," she said slowly. "If the carrpi lay eggs on the shore, do they not come onto land to breed? Do they not crowd all the shores and islands?"
"Oh yes," the boy informed her, greedily hunting for another clutch of the soft eggs. "They do in the season, every two or three years. It is about time now. They are piling all on top of each other in a wonderful funny way. Breeding grounds are dangerous – aggressive the hardshells can be, prella bad news if you step on one."
"Or if it steps on you," she added.
Tip's face fell, realizing the problem at last. "Oh…" he moaned. "And the carrpi are so big these last seasons. Where will they all go?"
"Where indeed?" she mused. The uneasy thought stayed with her all the way back to the camp, and during the time it took Tip to roast the carrpi eggs on long skewers over the open flames. She distracted herself from her dark imaginings by preparing water for tea. Qui Gon Jinn drank a good quantity of the Nautolans' mild green tea every day, and it amused her to serve it the Jedi master as though they sat in a civilized tea house on a Core world rather than a windswept island on a remote uncharted world. It was a whimsical anchor to the past, to fading memory. Foolish, no doubt; but a comfort nonetheless.
"Ah," Tip sighed in delight, as he stuffed the first half dozen eggs in his mouth. "Mmmmmph."
The Jedi returned, strolling up the beach side by side, deep in conversation.
"And you dreamt all of this last night?" Qui Gon was asking.
"No, master – not exactly. The vision was disturbed, fragmented. But this morning's meditation clarified parts of its meaning. The pieces fell into place. I am sure of it."
"You have ever wandered out of the present moment, my Padawan…I fear you have seen the truth. And that complicates matters here."
They sat, while Tip Haaleh handed round skewers of hot carppi eggs, a beatific smile plastering his face. "I tell you what I am sure of," he interjected. "This is prella good eating, friends. Enjoy." He watched expectantly, as his guests eyed the strange delicacy with expressions ranging from curiosity to apprehension. "Eat! Eat!"
Qui Gon took an experimental bite and found that the texture and flavor were passable. A Jedi was not too particular about his vittles – that was one good way to starve, especially on a mission such as this. Satine chewed on her first mouthful thoughtfully, smiling at Tip's dramatic noises of pleasure. Beside Qui Gon, Obi Wan cautiously slid a single egg off its blackened skewer and ate it with an expression of polite interest.
""Ahhhhh!" Tip sighed. "The waves blessed us. That is a delicacy to be had only maybe once every few years."
"We are honored to share it," Qui Gon said.
"And honored to have your company in our exile," Satine added, graciously.
Tips' chest puffed out with pride. "You – Ke Wan. Why so thinking at this time of morning? Your breakfast you have not even touched."
The young Jedi looked up at the Nautolan with grave eyes. "Tip," he began slowly, "I have seen your past."
The boy screwed up his face quizzically. "How so? We only met together some days ago. My past is a long time gone before that."
"No," Qui Gon reassured him. "Not in the way you think. Jedi sometimes see things. The possible future, or what has already been. He has seen a vision of your ancestors, a part of your clan's history."
"Tell me, Ke Wan," Tip pleaded. "I am all ears, as you humans say it." He raised his hands to the sides of his head, cupping the fingers to create large, rounded ears. "Yes?"
"No, Tip," Obi Wan corrected him dryly. "You are all mouth."
When the ensuing laughter had died down, he continued. "Your people are not from this world originally, Tip. They hail from a place called Glee Anselm. The people there are star-faring, like us." He paused to let this sink in. "Some of them came traveling this way a long time ago – generations, I think- and were attacked. Possibly by pirates. A gravity mine pulled their ship out of hyperspace. Out of the stars," he amended, seeing a look of blank incomprehension flit over his audience's face. "Only a few survived the carnage – most were very young, too young to remember life on Glee Anslem. They survived, perhaps in an escape pod. They would have floated there for a long time and died. Even if they dropped into your atmosphere, they likely would never have found land. There isn't much of it on this world."
"But they didn't die," Tip asserted. "Or I would not be here, Ke Wan."
"No," the Padawan agreed. "They didn't. A Jedi in the sector – A Jedi assigned to this part of space as the local peacekeeper," he glanced at Qui Gon for confirmation, and received a brief nod. "A Jedi named Yervei Adah, found them. It is possible he felt a disturbance in the Force and came to investigate. But I am certain he saved the Nautolans. He rescued them and brought them to your home island. And…they have been there ever since."
"But you look sad, Ke Wan. Why is that not a good thing? We know that Ke Adah rescued us from the stars and brought us to our home." Tip cocked his head to one side, bemused.
"He should have returned them to their homeworld," Obi Wan said. "He deliberately chose to strand them here. To keep them separate from their people – from any people."
"But Ke Adah is our wise guide," Tip argued, shaking his head. "Are you saying that he is bad in his doing? He had always helped us and given us counsel, for many generations. And when he is silver-headed, he has stayed on our island with us. This is even better for our people."
Qui Gon sighed. "That is not a Jedi's role, Tip. He has made of your people a utopian experiment of his own. He has told you and taught you what he wishes, and he has taken care that you know little of the galaxy beyond the boundaries of this world."
"But that is a sad place!" Tip objected. "Ke Muma said so. She told us that Ke-Lady-Tine's brothers are all killing one another, and that nobody in the stars may ever make trothe ta pellia."
Qui Gon directed a curious look at Satine, who flushed a deep crimson but said nothing.
"You have a right to belong to your own people," Obi Wan resumed. "You have a right to know more of life than this island. Even the sad parts are worth knowing. You wish for that, Tip. You have said so yourself, in many ways."
The young Nautolan sank his face into his hands. "You are making me prella confused, Jedi," he moaned. "I don't know what to think. How do I know this seeing of yours is true, Ke Wan? You dreamed it, like a child's nightmare, I think. That is no truth-story. Dreaming is for fools and women!" he shouted, leaping to his feet in a rage. "You are nothing but a crybaby fool who dreams bad things because he is sick and crippled!" Tip threw his empty skewer at Obi Wan's head.
The young Jedi snatched the projectile out of the air with lightning reflexes. 'I do not intend to cause you pain or offense," he said steadily.
"You call my life a lie, you fever-head crazy Jedi! How do you think I feel, not offended? You cannot prove your lie-talking brat-child words to me!" Tip's opal eyes leaked large tears of distress.
Obi Wan took a deep breath. It was too late to reverse the effect of his words, too late to hold his tongue. "I will show you," he offered quietly. "I will take you up in the shuttle, and show you the remains of their starship."
Satine gasped. The debris field surrounding the planet – besides rocks, there had been a great deal of synthetic plastoids and metal. How had Obi Wan known? He had never seen the asteroid belt. She stared at him, startled. He looked at her, too, as though sensing the thought, and smiled thinly. She shivered, aware again of the differences that made him Jedi, made him other. Of the weird power that lurked beneath the deceptively mild surface of his reserve.
Tips' chest was heaving. "Okay," he agreed, angrily. "You show me, liar! We go now."
Show me the stars, the moon in the sky. Tell me you love me; if you don't, just lie. – popular holocast song from the Core.
Obi Wan piloted the shuttle up through Merrid Altus' atmosphere, speaking not a word. Behind him, Tip Haaleh stood with wide eyes, mouth hanging open in wonder as he ascended past the blue skies and into the dark of space, where stars glittered in their ageless tapestry. Two moons were visible on this side of the planet, and the thin asteroid halo of rocks and debris spread below them in a graceful curve.
"We're low on fuel, master," the Padawan said, eyeing the gauge warily. "How far do we need to jump from this system?" He began making calculations on the nav computer, keeping one hand on the yoke as they left the last thin haze of the upper atmosphere behind.
"That is the next difficulty we must overcome," Qui Gon replied serenely. "We barely had enough fuel to leave the system when we arrived. I had to find help as quickly as possible; there was little time to plan an exit strategy."
Obi Wan nodded glumly. That had been his fault.
"Not your fault," the Jedi master corrected him, sensing the thought. "I don't recall you being part of the decision."
They looped along the equator, rising into the debris field cautiously, adjusting speed to match its slow orbital procession. Once caught up in the stately motion of the circling rocks, Obi Wan cut the main thrusters and allowed the ship to drift, using only repulsors to push off the occasional piece of lazily tumbling mineral or scrap.
Tip groaned as a metallic panel scarred by blaster fire drifted past the port side. "That was a star ship piece, yes?"
"It was," Qui Gon answered, "An older one, too – tritanium hull shielding has been out of vogue for many decades. You can see the torpedo damage along the outer side."
"But what are all those regular shapes?" Satine wondered aloud. She had noticed them on the journey in. Now, at leisure to examine them at close quarters, they once again captivated her. "Obi, get closer to that one." She pointed to a tumbling box visible in the corner of their viewport.
Edging around the swirling junk, the young Jedi threaded their shuttle closer to the box. Soon it was somersaulting its way ahead of them. Markings were still visible on one side. He tilted his head to read the inscription, spelled out in the Basic aurebesh script. "Fuel cells," he breathed. "Master!"
Qui Gon's attention was arrested by the discovery as well. "Jettisoned by the Nautolan cruiser. Obi Wan. Seal off the cockpit and open the boarding ramp," he instructed. "That should just fit inside our hold."
The maneuver was touchy, but they managed it. Obi Wan popped the depressurized cargo hold open and gently swiveled their craft so that their stern faced the floating cargo box. Qui Gon closed his eyes and held out his hands. Using the Force, he gently pulled the box of fuel cells into the hold. It rattled a little as it scraped the edge of the ramp, and then fell to the floor with a thump as the chamber sealed, repressurized and restored gravity.
"I wonder what else is out here? Perhaps there is other equipment to salvage. Things to help the Nautolans – communications circuits or repulsor sleds." Satine peered at the vast, unexplored wreckage with renewed interest. If the Nautolans could save some part of their heritage from this solemn ruins, then surely Mandalore…?
Obi Wan dropped the small shuttle away from the asteroid belt. "Do you believe me now, Tip? Your people left behind abundant proof."
The young Nautolan boy trembled where he stood. "I am prella sorry I accused you, Ke Wan. You are a true-seeing dreamer. The liar is Ke Adah."
The two Jedi exchanged a grave look. If word of this exploit ever reached Yervei Adah's ears, as it must inevitably, the fierce old man would be displeased – very, very displeased.