A New Day
Morning crept across the buildings on Coruscant's surface like a thief, carefully lighting each building in turn, the golden brilliance spilling into the large transparisteel windows, illuminating corners and chasing away shadows.
Daré Shioc sat, her legs neatly tucked beneath herself, her head bowed and eyes closed, in a pool of such light, being her day as she did every day, with meditations for focus. Still, focus was elusive this morning. The Force rolled within her as usual, but it didn't seem to be quite as it usually was. Something –something close to her – had changed, and her instincts, or if nothing else, her experience, told her it probably had something to do with her latest padawan.
With a sigh, she opened her deep blue eyes and stood slowly, working the kinks out of her slowly aging body. The Jedi Master, as childish she might choose to act on occasion, was getting older, and some mornings her body seemed intent on reminding her of that fact. She moved to look out of her window which overlooked the Sentorial district of Coruscant. Her reflection peered back at her, a concentrated look on its face, but the diminutive master ignored it. Instead, she looked out on the sweeping buildings that housed the quarters of the Senators from all corners of the galaxy. Each one with his own agenda, his own hopes and fears. His own ambition.
The Jedi Master put her hands in the sleeves of her robe, her face shifting into a harder look, one that would never reach the source of her irritation. More and more the Senate reminded her of initiates, whining about getting each individual's way. They were slowly spiraling themselves to destruction, that much was painfully obvious. A sentient would be hard pressed to find a larger, more diverse group of liars, cheaters, and scammers. The problem was, they all held enormous power as well. Beings of true nobility were a rare find these days, even for one who dwelt in the Temple.
Her thoughts turned back to her former padawan, and Daré felt a twinge of regret. That one had much potential, although not in the way most people considered potential in a Jedi. Her strength in the Force was nothing commendable nor would it ever be. No one had ever lauded her presence or command of the Force, and it was by the mere grace of that entity – Raven's own belligerence notwithstanding – that she'd become a Knight at all.
It wasn't even her fighting ability that made her what she was. She could swing a lightsaber with the best of them, holding her own with most, if not all, of the more revered fighters in the Order. Her sheer skill and prowess was almost a thing of legend within the Temple, although it was always coupled with her inane inability to manipulate the Force deftly. Many Jedi couldn't comprehend her capacity to bring even Windu to his knees and then fail to levitate a box the size of a young initiate. But such was the ambiguities of the Force sometimes. You can't really question that to which you know you'll never receive a sufficient answer.
Raven's nature was what made her special, at least to her master. Daré had never witnessed an instance where Raven hadn't given completely of herself to someone else, such as bestowing a favor or simply doing a kindness. She was, above all, born to serve and do it dutifully. Her dedication to such pathetic and disgusting beings who existed out there was touching. Privately, the Jedi Master doubted that most of them deserved what they received from the giving Knight, but that was really not important. Raven lived to serve, period.
Gliding gently across the floor, Daré moved into her small kitchenette and grabbed a few satchels of the homemade tea blends she made from the small plants she grew in her apartments. She decided to go visit her padawan, since she hadn't seen Raven much recently. The Jedi Master knew that the Knight was hurting deeply, and it was difficult to know what to do for her.
Arriving at her former padawan's door, she was slightly nonplussed to discover that she could sense no one inside. Raven typically kept odd hours, but she knew that the Knight ought to be asleep. Her team was due in sometime yesterday, so logic dictated that she would be asleep, catching up on that rare commodity. A thread of concern overwhelmed the Jedi Master, and she tried the door to see if it was unlocked.
It was, and gently Daré opened the door to peer in. The room was still relatively dark, facing away from the rising sun, with shadows dripping from the walls onto the floors in dark pools. The Jedi Master felt slightly uncomfortable, although she couldn't have said why, and the entire room was heavy with her padawan's emotions. Still the place was very barren. Raven lived cleanly, more so than most Jedi, but usually there was at least a datapad or a tome lying around from where the Knight had left it.
Feeling trepidation, Daré moved farther in, noticing something sitting on the counter of Raven's kitchenette. Cold realization settled into her stomach and crept its way up as she slowly came to the conclusion of what the Knight must have down. Failure was something all too real to that child, the knowledge that failure meant leaving the Order was a very real possibility. She picked up the flimsy, afraid to read it.
Master,
My failures speak for themselves. I love you and will think of you often.
I couldn't fight hard enough to save them.
Raven
"Oh, cailían," she murmured, placing the flimsy back on the table, her hand shaking slightly, "my cailían." The Jedi Master moved over to the couch and sat down, cradling her head in her hands, her palms damp from her tears. "My cailían," she whispered over and over again, "it wasn't your fault."
***
Dane awoke around his usual time, about an hour after the sun had risen to light the windows of the Coruscant skyline. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the rhythms of this world, which had longer days than his own home. Enjoying the feeling of having no where to go and nothing immediately pressing for him to do, he shifted, pleased by the weight of his blankets over him. It wasn't the same as feeling the warm bliss of his Ava, but it was enough at the moment. She would be with him soon enough.
Finally, his work ethic got the better of him, and the young man threw back the covers to his bed. He pulled himself out of it, running a hand through his dark hair. For a moment, he stood, clad only in a pair of leggings and regarded the messy bed, thinking of the night before. The Jedi had refused to take the bed, claiming she had slept in worse places than the threadbare, albeit very comfortable, couch beyond the dividing wall that stretched halfway across the room. No amount of coaxing could get her to take his bed, so she had wound up on the couch and he in the bed.
He moved beyond the diving wall to look out into the tiny sitting room that led into a minute kitchen. Everything in the apartment spoke of economy, the cheapest of everything, but it was comfortable in its own way. Dane had dreams of finding a nicer apartment for Ava and his little Copelan. Even the baby would have its own room. Then, he shook his head, knowing that he wasn't being realistic. This might not be Agio, but it wasn't exactly the Chancellor's Chambers either.
Raven was curled on the couch, most of her covered by the blankets on top of her. His apartment even now, with the rising sun, was cold. The heating element had broken, and Dane's rather worthless landlord had yet to even deign to inspect it, let alone see to fixing it. The nights grew cold, and the days warmed only during the midmorning, when the sunlight could find its way into the large, grimy picture window on one wall. Then, it cooled off again, much to the discomfort of the occupants.
Dane was surprised to see the Jedi in an apparent deep sleep. Her dark hair made a messy halo around her head, one arm out flung over it. Not for the first time since he'd offered her shelter, he wondered what game he was playing. He would be deluding himself if he were to say it was for entirely noble intentions. Realistically, this wasn't a philanthropy mission at all. Part of him firmly believed that if a Jedi, rogue or no, put her mind to something, the very Galaxy conspired to make it so. Maybe if he had a Jedi on his side, he would see his Ava again, his son Copelan.
Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was just clinging to childhood memories. Dane moved to the kitchen to put some caf on to heat, seeing the images replay themselves. He wasn't a native to Agio; when he was born, it was on a Mid Rim planet by the name of N'dom. The planet, when he was about five, had been thrown into revolution by a rebel faction who had instigated a successful coup against the group who was in power. The group in power scoured the countryside for women to ravage and work for them, his mother, a young, attractive woman, being among those ranks. Bloody chaos had ensued for about five years between the rebels and various powerful factions until the Jedi were petitioned. A team of five Jedi, an enormous amount, had been sent. He'd met three of the Jedi, being assigned to see to them. As if by magic, they had procured a compromise between the rebels in power and the factions in the field. From that day forth, part of Dane was confident that there was nothing a Jedi couldn't accomplish.
And now one was sleeping on his couch. He had to admit, she wasn't completely what he would have expected, or chosen for that matter, had that been an option. But she was here, and she had promised to help. That was enough for him.
A loud bang came on the door, and Dane moved to open it, fairly confident he knew who would be standing behind it. Sure enough, Kieran's hulking form stood impatiently in the hallway when he checked the eyehole. When he opened the door, the larger man looked more than mildly annoyed. "Ye have a run," he said bluntly, brushing past the smaller man into the shabby apartment. "The Slug himsel called this morning, wee hours it were as well."
Kieran inspected the caf pitcher, still not warm, and grunted in annoyance. "Ye up to it?" Then he looked into the sitting room. "The lass!" he cried, moving to go look at her. Dane touched his arm and shook his head when Kieran looked back.
"Don't do it. Leave her be," he warned quietly.
Kieran made a face but demurred. "There will be time for that later. Apparently Jabba's very upset about all this. 'E called both me and his contact, ranting about needing this done."
"What are the details, Kier?"
The larger man shrugged, his look plain, that this was not the place to discuss such things. "Let's go fer a walk, eh? Leave the lass for now, I'm sure she'll fair by hersel." Dane nodded, found something and left Raven a note, then followed Kieran out of his building.
***
"What do you mean, the shipment was lost? I'm a running, not one of his strong-arms," Dane said, the irritation in his voice clear as he moved alongside the larger man, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"I ken that," Kieran shrugged. "I 'spect that's why 'e sent me tae go wit' ye," he replied. His accent got stronger as his brow furrowed, indicated in his own quiet way his own confusion.
Dane scowled, brushing past a small group of people on the walkway who were waiting for a shuttle as they continued to move beyond the entertainment district into the housing units which lay on the other side. "It's nasty business, that's what I think."
"What business of it is ours? We do as 'e says. I cannae afford to turn down 'is chinks, and neither can ye. What aboot yer lass? Yer boy?"
"So what? We demand an audience with this guy? Kieran, think for a second. He's a smuggler, big time. Well known throughout the Galaxy with so many friends in high places even the Republic can't touch him. Jabba's lost it. Even a Jedi wouldn't…." The young man stopped, his face suddenly registering shock. "That's it!"
"Recruit a Jedi? Ye daft?" came the retort, which was a completely reasonable retort.
"Recruit? No. She's not even a Jedi. But she's close, and she'll have to do."
"She?" Dane turned one hundred and eight degrees, moving back the way he'd came. Kieran followed slightly behind, suspicion clouding his face. "Ye don't mean the lass, do ye? A Jedi? I don't ken if that's bright…"
"What ideas do you have? She needs work anyway. You can give her a few of the finer points of running."
"Yer daft! Jabba'll have us killed or worse! If 'e kens we told someone else…"
Dane turned, confronting the other man. "Listen to me. If we go in there to find out where the shipment is, Omto will kill us. If we blatantly refuse, Jabba will kill us. I think we have the best chances with her."
Kieran frowned. "But if we send her, the lass'll be killed."
Pursing his lips, the smaller man shook his head. "She's Jedi-trained. You can't kill a Jedi."
With a sigh, Kieran put up his hands in reluctant acquiescence. "But she may kill us."
Dane winked broadly at the larger man. "Leave that to me."
---------
"You want me to do what?"
Dane stood across from her in his apartment, hands crossed in front of him. Kieran sat on the tattered couch, studiously inspecting the floor and occasionally darting anxious looks at the pair. "It's a fair deal," he replied. "You get the training to be a runner, which can earn you an existence here, and you get half of the profits we make from this."
"By breaking into one of the largest smuggling operations ever seen in the galaxy, lurking around in their private files to find information wanted by another head of a smuggling operation who essentially owns some dusty ball in the Outer Rim, and escaping with the information you want."
He spread his arms wide. "Walk in the park for a Jedi."
"You don't find many parks on Coruscant," she replied.
"Look, in any case, we," he indicated Kieran, who flashed him a look which read that he wanted not to be included, "don't have much of a choice in the matter. We refused, Jabba has us killed. Simply for knowing what's going on. That shipment obviously means a lot to the slug, and he seems to think we can get it for him. However, if we're essentially committing suicide if we think we can make it in and out without getting caught. This is real work, not for amateurs like us."
"I've never done any running for information at all." She moved to the window, her tone of voice the only thing betraying her emotions, and that was intentional. The rogue wanted him to know what she thought of his little proposition. Raven watched the light reflecting on the buildings, trying to ignore the desperation that was radiating from the larger man. He was obviously afraid of the task put before them and probably even more afraid of her own response.
Dane sighed behind her, and she heard him settled next to Kieran. "You're far more capable to pull it off."
Something inside her shifted, making her think of her years of training for the IntCorps. This was, somewhat, the kind of thing she would have done for them, although only blind from the Republic, which didn't like to be reminded how the Jedi got some of their information. However, they had no qualms about using it. It was true though; the chase was her forte.
"Fine. I'll do it." Even as she said the words and felt the flood of relief from the pair through the Force, a thread of doubt crept into the pit of her stomach, doubt of her own ability and skills. Still, at least in this case, she would only be putting herself at risk, no one else. Still, part of her rejoiced at the fact that she was going to be helping someone. If nothing else, it gave her a goal. Something to take her mind off the Temple.
***
Raven was not surprised to discover that, in the end, there was very little the pair could teach her about the profession of running. It reminded her of her IntCorps duties, somewhat the stuff of those terrible holovids that cycled into popularity regularly; an attractive Jedi, in this case female, sneaking around unseen to gather information that would be used in some epic way to save lives or the planet or the Galaxy entire. The only difference was that the vids never made mention of rogues (privately, Raven thought that the markers simply didn't want to think about Jedi who defected) and the remarkable lack of sexual tension, given that Dane was married and Kieran abjectly wary of her former occupation.
A few days after they had asked her, the trio had picked a date for the break in. Kieran had procured her an extensive set of lock picks for the task, as well as some fake identification, which identified her as Ash Suul, a migrate from some moon in the Outer Rim. The large man had taken to calling her Darkfeather; apparently, on some planet where he had resided for some time, there was a bird called the raven with dark, black plumage.
And the days passed, the marked day moving ever closer. Raven was surprised as to how easily she fell into the new routine. She worked out regularly, taking over the small living room as a training ground, her light saber set to a low power. Kieran was a regular visitor, and Dane would be in and out during the day, depending on what kind of odd jobs he could pick on Coruscant. When Raven wasn't exercising, she would wander the entertainment district, slowly learning what life was like beyond the Temple, never failing to be amazed at how removed the life of the Jedi was, given that these were the people they were sworn to protect, ultimately. They were all beings just trying to etch out an existence the best way they knew how.
These beings fascinated the former Jedi. In her past life, as she began to see it, she had been sworn to protect these people and the things that allowed them to live their lives as they chose. But they were admirable in their perseverance and resolve to live well. It was enough to make her wonder what real purpose the Temple served. These people held almost superstitious beliefs about the almighty Jedi. It seemed that the Order served more the Senate than the people of the Republic.
Raven also spent a lot of time observing the rather nondescript building that was Omto's. She mentally marked the regular comings and goings of the beings that filtered through the building, making note of times and entrances used. Probably breaking rules that she didn't really know existed about her current status within the Temple, she used gentle Force projections to make sentients not notice her as she spent hours loitering outside the building. They would never remember her presence or moving past her. To them, it was as if she never existed at all.
Finally the night before her first run was to take place came and found her perched on Dane's couch, her ratiuar in her lap as she carefully restrung and tuned it. Dane sat on the other couch, idly shuffling a deck of sabacc cards he had found somewhere. Kieran was over, pacing nervously in front of the window, periodically stopping to look out of its dusty transparisteel before stalking back and forth again.
"You're making me nervous," the smaller man said finally, tossing his partner a withering glace. "Why don't you sit down and we'll play a round?"
Kieran turned, looking first at Raven complacently working on her instrument before turning to Dane. "I donnae understand how ye can sit there as cold as Hoth when tomorrow might find us all deid."
"Not all of you," Raven replied, looking up, although her hands continued to move methodically. She smiled slightly, one eyebrow climbing her forehead in amusement.
The larger man gave her an exasperated look. "If ye fail, we're as good as deid," he replied.
Raven turned her attention back to string the ratiuar, her thin fingers carefully threading the string onto one of the tuning pegs. "Then I won't fail," she replied simply.
Kieran and Dane exchanged a glance, both slightly unnerved by the note in her voice. It was fairly easy, at least for Dane, to see the woman who had joined their little band as one of them, one of the wayward souls who existed in the galaxy, just trying to make her way through it. But on occasion, such as now, they were reminded all too much of what she had been – and still was – despite her current situation.
She finished her stringing, giving the instrument a quick strum with her fingers. Then, the Jedi stood, setting it aside with a quiet exhalation. "I'll be gone before you're up," she said quietly. "Nothing to tie you to the traveler you kindly sheltered for the last few days. I go in blind and I come out blind. A shadow in and out." She clapped her hands together. "Gentlemen! Relax!"
Dane shrugged. "It's a difficult run."
"I'll take care of it." And with those words, the deal was sealed. Dane didn't have the heart to discuss it further, and Kieran lacked the courage.
Still, Raven was awake late that night, staring at her ceiling as she ran through some calming techniques. It was not impossible, although it wasn't going to be easy. Demian was before her, trustingly, running his katas slowly.
No, failure was not an option.
Morning crept across the buildings on Coruscant's surface like a thief, carefully lighting each building in turn, the golden brilliance spilling into the large transparisteel windows, illuminating corners and chasing away shadows.
Daré Shioc sat, her legs neatly tucked beneath herself, her head bowed and eyes closed, in a pool of such light, being her day as she did every day, with meditations for focus. Still, focus was elusive this morning. The Force rolled within her as usual, but it didn't seem to be quite as it usually was. Something –something close to her – had changed, and her instincts, or if nothing else, her experience, told her it probably had something to do with her latest padawan.
With a sigh, she opened her deep blue eyes and stood slowly, working the kinks out of her slowly aging body. The Jedi Master, as childish she might choose to act on occasion, was getting older, and some mornings her body seemed intent on reminding her of that fact. She moved to look out of her window which overlooked the Sentorial district of Coruscant. Her reflection peered back at her, a concentrated look on its face, but the diminutive master ignored it. Instead, she looked out on the sweeping buildings that housed the quarters of the Senators from all corners of the galaxy. Each one with his own agenda, his own hopes and fears. His own ambition.
The Jedi Master put her hands in the sleeves of her robe, her face shifting into a harder look, one that would never reach the source of her irritation. More and more the Senate reminded her of initiates, whining about getting each individual's way. They were slowly spiraling themselves to destruction, that much was painfully obvious. A sentient would be hard pressed to find a larger, more diverse group of liars, cheaters, and scammers. The problem was, they all held enormous power as well. Beings of true nobility were a rare find these days, even for one who dwelt in the Temple.
Her thoughts turned back to her former padawan, and Daré felt a twinge of regret. That one had much potential, although not in the way most people considered potential in a Jedi. Her strength in the Force was nothing commendable nor would it ever be. No one had ever lauded her presence or command of the Force, and it was by the mere grace of that entity – Raven's own belligerence notwithstanding – that she'd become a Knight at all.
It wasn't even her fighting ability that made her what she was. She could swing a lightsaber with the best of them, holding her own with most, if not all, of the more revered fighters in the Order. Her sheer skill and prowess was almost a thing of legend within the Temple, although it was always coupled with her inane inability to manipulate the Force deftly. Many Jedi couldn't comprehend her capacity to bring even Windu to his knees and then fail to levitate a box the size of a young initiate. But such was the ambiguities of the Force sometimes. You can't really question that to which you know you'll never receive a sufficient answer.
Raven's nature was what made her special, at least to her master. Daré had never witnessed an instance where Raven hadn't given completely of herself to someone else, such as bestowing a favor or simply doing a kindness. She was, above all, born to serve and do it dutifully. Her dedication to such pathetic and disgusting beings who existed out there was touching. Privately, the Jedi Master doubted that most of them deserved what they received from the giving Knight, but that was really not important. Raven lived to serve, period.
Gliding gently across the floor, Daré moved into her small kitchenette and grabbed a few satchels of the homemade tea blends she made from the small plants she grew in her apartments. She decided to go visit her padawan, since she hadn't seen Raven much recently. The Jedi Master knew that the Knight was hurting deeply, and it was difficult to know what to do for her.
Arriving at her former padawan's door, she was slightly nonplussed to discover that she could sense no one inside. Raven typically kept odd hours, but she knew that the Knight ought to be asleep. Her team was due in sometime yesterday, so logic dictated that she would be asleep, catching up on that rare commodity. A thread of concern overwhelmed the Jedi Master, and she tried the door to see if it was unlocked.
It was, and gently Daré opened the door to peer in. The room was still relatively dark, facing away from the rising sun, with shadows dripping from the walls onto the floors in dark pools. The Jedi Master felt slightly uncomfortable, although she couldn't have said why, and the entire room was heavy with her padawan's emotions. Still the place was very barren. Raven lived cleanly, more so than most Jedi, but usually there was at least a datapad or a tome lying around from where the Knight had left it.
Feeling trepidation, Daré moved farther in, noticing something sitting on the counter of Raven's kitchenette. Cold realization settled into her stomach and crept its way up as she slowly came to the conclusion of what the Knight must have down. Failure was something all too real to that child, the knowledge that failure meant leaving the Order was a very real possibility. She picked up the flimsy, afraid to read it.
Master,
My failures speak for themselves. I love you and will think of you often.
I couldn't fight hard enough to save them.
Raven
"Oh, cailían," she murmured, placing the flimsy back on the table, her hand shaking slightly, "my cailían." The Jedi Master moved over to the couch and sat down, cradling her head in her hands, her palms damp from her tears. "My cailían," she whispered over and over again, "it wasn't your fault."
***
Dane awoke around his usual time, about an hour after the sun had risen to light the windows of the Coruscant skyline. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the rhythms of this world, which had longer days than his own home. Enjoying the feeling of having no where to go and nothing immediately pressing for him to do, he shifted, pleased by the weight of his blankets over him. It wasn't the same as feeling the warm bliss of his Ava, but it was enough at the moment. She would be with him soon enough.
Finally, his work ethic got the better of him, and the young man threw back the covers to his bed. He pulled himself out of it, running a hand through his dark hair. For a moment, he stood, clad only in a pair of leggings and regarded the messy bed, thinking of the night before. The Jedi had refused to take the bed, claiming she had slept in worse places than the threadbare, albeit very comfortable, couch beyond the dividing wall that stretched halfway across the room. No amount of coaxing could get her to take his bed, so she had wound up on the couch and he in the bed.
He moved beyond the diving wall to look out into the tiny sitting room that led into a minute kitchen. Everything in the apartment spoke of economy, the cheapest of everything, but it was comfortable in its own way. Dane had dreams of finding a nicer apartment for Ava and his little Copelan. Even the baby would have its own room. Then, he shook his head, knowing that he wasn't being realistic. This might not be Agio, but it wasn't exactly the Chancellor's Chambers either.
Raven was curled on the couch, most of her covered by the blankets on top of her. His apartment even now, with the rising sun, was cold. The heating element had broken, and Dane's rather worthless landlord had yet to even deign to inspect it, let alone see to fixing it. The nights grew cold, and the days warmed only during the midmorning, when the sunlight could find its way into the large, grimy picture window on one wall. Then, it cooled off again, much to the discomfort of the occupants.
Dane was surprised to see the Jedi in an apparent deep sleep. Her dark hair made a messy halo around her head, one arm out flung over it. Not for the first time since he'd offered her shelter, he wondered what game he was playing. He would be deluding himself if he were to say it was for entirely noble intentions. Realistically, this wasn't a philanthropy mission at all. Part of him firmly believed that if a Jedi, rogue or no, put her mind to something, the very Galaxy conspired to make it so. Maybe if he had a Jedi on his side, he would see his Ava again, his son Copelan.
Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was just clinging to childhood memories. Dane moved to the kitchen to put some caf on to heat, seeing the images replay themselves. He wasn't a native to Agio; when he was born, it was on a Mid Rim planet by the name of N'dom. The planet, when he was about five, had been thrown into revolution by a rebel faction who had instigated a successful coup against the group who was in power. The group in power scoured the countryside for women to ravage and work for them, his mother, a young, attractive woman, being among those ranks. Bloody chaos had ensued for about five years between the rebels and various powerful factions until the Jedi were petitioned. A team of five Jedi, an enormous amount, had been sent. He'd met three of the Jedi, being assigned to see to them. As if by magic, they had procured a compromise between the rebels in power and the factions in the field. From that day forth, part of Dane was confident that there was nothing a Jedi couldn't accomplish.
And now one was sleeping on his couch. He had to admit, she wasn't completely what he would have expected, or chosen for that matter, had that been an option. But she was here, and she had promised to help. That was enough for him.
A loud bang came on the door, and Dane moved to open it, fairly confident he knew who would be standing behind it. Sure enough, Kieran's hulking form stood impatiently in the hallway when he checked the eyehole. When he opened the door, the larger man looked more than mildly annoyed. "Ye have a run," he said bluntly, brushing past the smaller man into the shabby apartment. "The Slug himsel called this morning, wee hours it were as well."
Kieran inspected the caf pitcher, still not warm, and grunted in annoyance. "Ye up to it?" Then he looked into the sitting room. "The lass!" he cried, moving to go look at her. Dane touched his arm and shook his head when Kieran looked back.
"Don't do it. Leave her be," he warned quietly.
Kieran made a face but demurred. "There will be time for that later. Apparently Jabba's very upset about all this. 'E called both me and his contact, ranting about needing this done."
"What are the details, Kier?"
The larger man shrugged, his look plain, that this was not the place to discuss such things. "Let's go fer a walk, eh? Leave the lass for now, I'm sure she'll fair by hersel." Dane nodded, found something and left Raven a note, then followed Kieran out of his building.
***
"What do you mean, the shipment was lost? I'm a running, not one of his strong-arms," Dane said, the irritation in his voice clear as he moved alongside the larger man, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"I ken that," Kieran shrugged. "I 'spect that's why 'e sent me tae go wit' ye," he replied. His accent got stronger as his brow furrowed, indicated in his own quiet way his own confusion.
Dane scowled, brushing past a small group of people on the walkway who were waiting for a shuttle as they continued to move beyond the entertainment district into the housing units which lay on the other side. "It's nasty business, that's what I think."
"What business of it is ours? We do as 'e says. I cannae afford to turn down 'is chinks, and neither can ye. What aboot yer lass? Yer boy?"
"So what? We demand an audience with this guy? Kieran, think for a second. He's a smuggler, big time. Well known throughout the Galaxy with so many friends in high places even the Republic can't touch him. Jabba's lost it. Even a Jedi wouldn't…." The young man stopped, his face suddenly registering shock. "That's it!"
"Recruit a Jedi? Ye daft?" came the retort, which was a completely reasonable retort.
"Recruit? No. She's not even a Jedi. But she's close, and she'll have to do."
"She?" Dane turned one hundred and eight degrees, moving back the way he'd came. Kieran followed slightly behind, suspicion clouding his face. "Ye don't mean the lass, do ye? A Jedi? I don't ken if that's bright…"
"What ideas do you have? She needs work anyway. You can give her a few of the finer points of running."
"Yer daft! Jabba'll have us killed or worse! If 'e kens we told someone else…"
Dane turned, confronting the other man. "Listen to me. If we go in there to find out where the shipment is, Omto will kill us. If we blatantly refuse, Jabba will kill us. I think we have the best chances with her."
Kieran frowned. "But if we send her, the lass'll be killed."
Pursing his lips, the smaller man shook his head. "She's Jedi-trained. You can't kill a Jedi."
With a sigh, Kieran put up his hands in reluctant acquiescence. "But she may kill us."
Dane winked broadly at the larger man. "Leave that to me."
---------
"You want me to do what?"
Dane stood across from her in his apartment, hands crossed in front of him. Kieran sat on the tattered couch, studiously inspecting the floor and occasionally darting anxious looks at the pair. "It's a fair deal," he replied. "You get the training to be a runner, which can earn you an existence here, and you get half of the profits we make from this."
"By breaking into one of the largest smuggling operations ever seen in the galaxy, lurking around in their private files to find information wanted by another head of a smuggling operation who essentially owns some dusty ball in the Outer Rim, and escaping with the information you want."
He spread his arms wide. "Walk in the park for a Jedi."
"You don't find many parks on Coruscant," she replied.
"Look, in any case, we," he indicated Kieran, who flashed him a look which read that he wanted not to be included, "don't have much of a choice in the matter. We refused, Jabba has us killed. Simply for knowing what's going on. That shipment obviously means a lot to the slug, and he seems to think we can get it for him. However, if we're essentially committing suicide if we think we can make it in and out without getting caught. This is real work, not for amateurs like us."
"I've never done any running for information at all." She moved to the window, her tone of voice the only thing betraying her emotions, and that was intentional. The rogue wanted him to know what she thought of his little proposition. Raven watched the light reflecting on the buildings, trying to ignore the desperation that was radiating from the larger man. He was obviously afraid of the task put before them and probably even more afraid of her own response.
Dane sighed behind her, and she heard him settled next to Kieran. "You're far more capable to pull it off."
Something inside her shifted, making her think of her years of training for the IntCorps. This was, somewhat, the kind of thing she would have done for them, although only blind from the Republic, which didn't like to be reminded how the Jedi got some of their information. However, they had no qualms about using it. It was true though; the chase was her forte.
"Fine. I'll do it." Even as she said the words and felt the flood of relief from the pair through the Force, a thread of doubt crept into the pit of her stomach, doubt of her own ability and skills. Still, at least in this case, she would only be putting herself at risk, no one else. Still, part of her rejoiced at the fact that she was going to be helping someone. If nothing else, it gave her a goal. Something to take her mind off the Temple.
***
Raven was not surprised to discover that, in the end, there was very little the pair could teach her about the profession of running. It reminded her of her IntCorps duties, somewhat the stuff of those terrible holovids that cycled into popularity regularly; an attractive Jedi, in this case female, sneaking around unseen to gather information that would be used in some epic way to save lives or the planet or the Galaxy entire. The only difference was that the vids never made mention of rogues (privately, Raven thought that the markers simply didn't want to think about Jedi who defected) and the remarkable lack of sexual tension, given that Dane was married and Kieran abjectly wary of her former occupation.
A few days after they had asked her, the trio had picked a date for the break in. Kieran had procured her an extensive set of lock picks for the task, as well as some fake identification, which identified her as Ash Suul, a migrate from some moon in the Outer Rim. The large man had taken to calling her Darkfeather; apparently, on some planet where he had resided for some time, there was a bird called the raven with dark, black plumage.
And the days passed, the marked day moving ever closer. Raven was surprised as to how easily she fell into the new routine. She worked out regularly, taking over the small living room as a training ground, her light saber set to a low power. Kieran was a regular visitor, and Dane would be in and out during the day, depending on what kind of odd jobs he could pick on Coruscant. When Raven wasn't exercising, she would wander the entertainment district, slowly learning what life was like beyond the Temple, never failing to be amazed at how removed the life of the Jedi was, given that these were the people they were sworn to protect, ultimately. They were all beings just trying to etch out an existence the best way they knew how.
These beings fascinated the former Jedi. In her past life, as she began to see it, she had been sworn to protect these people and the things that allowed them to live their lives as they chose. But they were admirable in their perseverance and resolve to live well. It was enough to make her wonder what real purpose the Temple served. These people held almost superstitious beliefs about the almighty Jedi. It seemed that the Order served more the Senate than the people of the Republic.
Raven also spent a lot of time observing the rather nondescript building that was Omto's. She mentally marked the regular comings and goings of the beings that filtered through the building, making note of times and entrances used. Probably breaking rules that she didn't really know existed about her current status within the Temple, she used gentle Force projections to make sentients not notice her as she spent hours loitering outside the building. They would never remember her presence or moving past her. To them, it was as if she never existed at all.
Finally the night before her first run was to take place came and found her perched on Dane's couch, her ratiuar in her lap as she carefully restrung and tuned it. Dane sat on the other couch, idly shuffling a deck of sabacc cards he had found somewhere. Kieran was over, pacing nervously in front of the window, periodically stopping to look out of its dusty transparisteel before stalking back and forth again.
"You're making me nervous," the smaller man said finally, tossing his partner a withering glace. "Why don't you sit down and we'll play a round?"
Kieran turned, looking first at Raven complacently working on her instrument before turning to Dane. "I donnae understand how ye can sit there as cold as Hoth when tomorrow might find us all deid."
"Not all of you," Raven replied, looking up, although her hands continued to move methodically. She smiled slightly, one eyebrow climbing her forehead in amusement.
The larger man gave her an exasperated look. "If ye fail, we're as good as deid," he replied.
Raven turned her attention back to string the ratiuar, her thin fingers carefully threading the string onto one of the tuning pegs. "Then I won't fail," she replied simply.
Kieran and Dane exchanged a glance, both slightly unnerved by the note in her voice. It was fairly easy, at least for Dane, to see the woman who had joined their little band as one of them, one of the wayward souls who existed in the galaxy, just trying to make her way through it. But on occasion, such as now, they were reminded all too much of what she had been – and still was – despite her current situation.
She finished her stringing, giving the instrument a quick strum with her fingers. Then, the Jedi stood, setting it aside with a quiet exhalation. "I'll be gone before you're up," she said quietly. "Nothing to tie you to the traveler you kindly sheltered for the last few days. I go in blind and I come out blind. A shadow in and out." She clapped her hands together. "Gentlemen! Relax!"
Dane shrugged. "It's a difficult run."
"I'll take care of it." And with those words, the deal was sealed. Dane didn't have the heart to discuss it further, and Kieran lacked the courage.
Still, Raven was awake late that night, staring at her ceiling as she ran through some calming techniques. It was not impossible, although it wasn't going to be easy. Demian was before her, trustingly, running his katas slowly.
No, failure was not an option.
