AITHNE
Aithne didn't need this. Ordo was centimeters away from losing it, she had a grove to purify, and suddenly this Jedi looking so modest and unassuming he had to want something. She held up her hand to keep the Mandalorian from starting another fight—not that she wasn't glad the raiders on the ground were dead. /What is it?/ she asked the Twi'lek in Huttese.
/I am Bolook, a Jedi from the enclave,/ the Twi'lek said. /I witnessed your altercation from afar and came to see if I could lend my aid, but by the time I arrived, the fight had concluded. May I assume these are the raiders who have been plaguing the settlers near here?/
/They were some of them,/ Aithne confirmed. /My companions have been dealing with others for the past several weeks./
Carth had been searching the bodies, presumably for ID or some of the settlers' belongings. He now handed her a small sack. She looked inside and breathed through a sudden surge of outrage. She handed the bag to the Twi'lek knight. /We have several lightsabers here, it seems. If you could take them back to the enclave, perhaps the Council could identify their owners and conduct the appropriate rites of farewell./
/I will do so,/ Bolook promised, /but before I do, I was sent by the Jedi Council to investigate another injustice upon these plains. A murder which occurred nearby only a few hours ago. Communication does not pose a problem, as both the subjects and I speak Basic and Huttese. I was going to handle this case myself, but since you have arrived, apprentice, this could be an excellent opportunity for you to demonstrate how well you have been learning your lessons at the academy. Though you are not yet a full Jedi, perhaps you could assist me in sorting out the truth from the lies./
"This lazy di'kut wants you to do his job for him," Canderous burst out. "Is that what I'm hearing here?"
"Seems so," Carth agreed, crossing his arms and glaring at the Twi'lek. "Master Jedi, we're a little busy. You don't think maybe all of us could take care of our own business here, do you?"
Bolook only smiled. /We could,/ he agreed, /but I would be forced to report the apprentice's refusal to help a fellow Jedi to the Council. They might see it as incapability on her part./
Jedi or not, Aithne had seen this guy's type before, and she was more than a little annoyed. /And they might see you're a lazy weasel who likes to blackmail the new kids into doing your homework for you, after they've been fighting for their lives and when they have their own jobs to do. Still. I suppose I'm meant to be 'purifying the Grove.' That could mean ridding it of your incompetence. Take us to the scene./
Bolook seemed satisfied, even with all of them glaring daggers at his back. He turned around and led them over a footbridge that crossed a shallow, noisy brook into another field. Behind Aithne, Canderous and Zaalbar exchanged weapons again. Bolook led Aithne up to two human men and a droid waiting. There was another corpse on the ground—a third human man.
/Listen to the stories given by the suspects,/ Bolook said. /I have brought an information retrieval droid with access to the archives both at the Jedi Enclave and the planetary capital. I will use my wisdom and experience to offer you some guidance, but I will not solve the case for you. There is little benefit if you do not solve the problem yourself./
"Little benefit to whom?" Carth muttered under his breath. Aithne looked back at him in acknowledgment of the barb but said nothing.
/Consider each man's account and check the facts with the information droid,/ Bolook told her. /Once you have gathered all the evidence you think you need, run through the possible scenario with me. If you are unable to come up with a satisfactory resolution, then I will take these men to the enclave and deal with this myself./ Then he pointed at the men in the field—both the corpse and the two live ones. /According to the accounts of the participants, these three men, were out here in the field together earlier, before the clouds broke. I find that very odd, for most people would seek shelter indoors when the sky is filled with dark storm clouds as it was earlier today. But that is not the most puzzling aspect of the case. The dead man, Calder Nettic, was shot in the back with a blaster rifle. A rifle was found lying near his body with blood stains on it. It has been sent back to the enclave for analysis. These other men were found at the scene when I arrived. One was Handon Guld. He was unarmed. The other was Rickard Lusoff, who was carrying a hunting laser. Both men say they did not do anything, and that they came across the body. But both men also accuse the other. Obviously, there is more to this than what we have been told./
/And you can't sense which one is lying?/ Aithne scoffed. She sighed. "Guys, do you mind handling this for a while?"
"This guy doesn't deserve it," Carth answered bluntly. "But it's still more than we've been doing the past month."
"Let him tell his tales to the Council, I say," Canderous said. "I doubt he could come up with a story that makes this feeble extortion attempt look any better."
/If this man cannot solve the murder, justice is not served by walking away,/ Zaalbar said. /An innocent could be punished./
Aithne translated for the others. "Yeah, you're right," she said with a sigh. /You're lucky my friend's a little nicer than I am,/ she told Bolook. /Anything else we should know?/
The Twi'lek's smile had melted away now, at least. His lekku twitched. If they hadn't convinced him to actually do his own work, at least they'd succeeded in embarrassing and annoying him. /When I arrived, Mr. Guld was holding his side, and Mr. Lusoff was favoring one of his legs,/ he answered finally, after a moment, his voice much less genial than before. /If there is anything else you need, I will remain here while you question the witnesses./
/Really the least you could do,/ Aithne agreed, and stalked away to investigate a murder.
Rickard Lusoff, the hunter, turned out to be a surly man. He was bored and more than a little annoyed at being detained. He was also aware Aithne had been brought in because Bolook was floundering. He repeated the story he had given the other Jedi. "I was out hunting iriaz when I spotted one over here by the bridge. I pull out my rifle and aim at it. I couldn't see it that well, mind you, 'cause the damn sun was in my eyes. So, I shoot it, and it drops. I walk over here and find Handon standing over Calder's body! So why don't you get this whole farce over with and send that whiner Handon to the prison he belongs in!"
"My presence here might be a farce, but this murder isn't," Aithne answered. Something about Lusoff's story had already caught her attention, given what Bolook had told her. She'd been locked up in the enclave this morning talking to Zhar and Dorak and making her lightsaber, but still . . .
"Stay here," Aithne told Lusoff, "and maybe cool it with the profanity, huh? Not usually the best way to get what you want from the authorities."
As she turned, she heard Rickard mumble several derogatory comments in her direction. She decided to ignore them for the moment.
Handon Guld was more polite but also much more nervous than Lusoff. The aura of fear and guilt emanating from him was overwhelming. He was also sweating like a pig, and often did move his hand to his side, touching it beneath his jacket.
"I'm sure that you'll agree that Rickard is quite obviously guilty of murder," he said. "You see, I was out here running earlier today—yes, running," he clarified, as if expecting her to disagree. "I do that a lot. Can't stand speeders. Never use them. Keeps me in shape, too, you know! Anyway, I was out running on the other side of that bridge there when all of a sudden, I heard a shot coming from over here. I ran over here and found this man, Calder, lying on the ground, dead!"
"Okay. What happened next?"
"I saw Rickard come skulking out of the shadows of the rocks south of the river, and I knew something was wrong. I hit my emergency button and called the enclave right away. Well . . . there," Handon finished, rather awkwardly. "That's my story. Now please, hurry this up and arrest Rickard so I can get on with my day."
"You know a bit more about handling authorities than Lusoff," Aithne conceded, "but no, Guld, I don't think I'll be letting you go just yet. Wait here."
She went over to talk to the information droid. Bolook had claimed that when he arrived at the scene, Guld was unarmed, but Aithne was of the opinion that the rifle found at the scene had to belong to either him or to the victim, and whichever one it didn't belong to was an idiot. The information droid confirmed everything she'd heard the past six weeks—heading out on the plains alone without a weapon was tantamount to suicide. The droid also confirmed Bolook's report on the weather this morning.
Bolook caught her eye then, and Aithne walked over to him. /What?/ she asked.
/I was wondering if you wanted to review the case, apprentice./
/Not particularly, at least not with you,/ Aithne answered. /Rickard's story's flawed. He says he fired into the sun, but you and the droid both say there wouldn't have been sun this morning due to the weather, so he's lying. Suspicious, and indicative he was up to something, but I'm much more interested in the weapon at the scene and what either of these guys had to do with Nettic./
/It seems I was correct in assuming you could help me with this case, apprentice,/ Bolook said. /Proceed, then./
Aithne shot the others an apologetic glance. Zaalbar growled a reassurance, Canderous grunted, and Carth just shrugged. Aithne returned to Guld. "So, this man, Calder. Did you know him?"
"I knew him a little bit, but I wasn't any sort of great friend to him or anything," Guld answered. "I never really associated with him that much. In truth, I didn't really want to. He had a . . . reputation." His face darkened. "Very inconsiderate of family, I heard." He looked up, and his eyebrows flew up again. "But merely having heard unkind things about someone wouldn't make me want to kill him!"
In that instant, Aithne was almost certain Guld was the murderer. "No one's said you killed him yet," she said slowly.
Handon let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm . . . I'm getting a bit agitated. Why must we remain here? Can't . . . can't you see that Rickard must have shot him?"
"Why would anyone want to shoot him?" Aithne replied, putting her hands on her hips.
Handon looked even more uncomfortable. "Um . . . you see, Calder was involved in some pretty sordid business from time to time." He seemed to relax a bit. "More often than not, I've heard. Disreputable business practices, even more disreputable clients. I've even heard he had dealings with a Hutt! A Hutt, here on Dantooine! Now, I bet you're wondering if I had any reasons to kill the man," Handon said, getting defensive again, "but I tell you, I hardly knew him! Saw him once or twice, yes, and I have heard some pretty unkind things about him, but certainly nothing that would make me want to kill him!"
"Then why were you out here this morning, unarmed, in the storm?" Aithne asked, staring steadily at Guld. He squirmed like a worm on a hook, and his hand came up to touch his side again.
"I was out taking my daily constitutional," he said. "I heard a shot, ran over, and found Calder's body lying there."
"That's your story and you're sticking to it," murmured Aithne. "Fine. You're holding your side," she observed, switching tactics. "Are you injured?"
"I—injured?" Guld forced another laugh, removing his hand from his side as if it had been burned. "No, of course not! Why would I have been? Fit as a bantha!" He laughed again, a high, strained sound that made Aithne positive that he was, in fact, injured, and that the injury had something to do with the murder. "I run . . ." Guld repeated. "I don't know if I mentioned that."
"Only about three times," Aithne murmured. "If you run as often as all that, you'd think you wouldn't still have a stitch after what—two or three hours since you've been here?" As Guld opened his mouth to issue yet another protest, she cut him off. "That will be all for now. Thank you. Please remain here."
She moved to the other man. "Lusoff, let's have it," she said. "Did you know Calder?"
"Yeah, I know him," Lusoff admitted. "Hell, we've known each other for a good long time. Doesn't mean I really have to have liked the slimeball." He sighed, seeming to realize the harshness of his words. "Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him, especially now that he's dead. We actually got along pretty well most of the time. We just had our . . . differences. We were actually business partners. We were involved in some orbit-to-ground transport operations for Aratech. Can I leave now? I should probably be the one to give the news to his wife."
Aithne hummed. "Maybe later. First, tell me why someone would want to kill Nettic."
Rickard threw up his hands, disgusted. "You Jedi are so predictable," he sneered. "Always seeing some greater purpose behind everything when the simple answer is usually the right one. Can't you see that it must have been Handon? I found him standing over the damned body! I don't know why this is causing you so much trouble. You almost seem as lost as this Bolook guy!"
"It may have been Handon," Aithne answered, "though any evidence for that so far is purely circumstantial, and right now I'm not prepared to take your word on anything. You've already lied to me once, so I'm willing to bet things are a little more complicated than they look." She noted Rickard changing color, then abruptly changed her own tone and smiled brightly. "So. Bolook said you were limping earlier. Are you injured?"
Rickard blinked, seeming genuinely taken aback. "Well . . . uh . . . I kind of sprained my ankle running through the bush before I found the body, but it's nothing that serious." Aithne looked at him for a moment. On this, she didn't sense any dishonesty from him. He was telling the truth.
"Carth?" she called. Onasi came up to her. She tossed him her pack. "Can you help bind up Lusoff's ankle with one of our bandages, please? It's been sprained."
"You got it," Onasi told her.
"I'll be back in a moment," she told them both.
Once again, she checked both suspects' stories with the information droid, which revealed Guld had definitely been lying and the true extent of Lusoff's "differences" with Nettic. Guld had claimed he disliked speeders, but administrative records from the settlement center revealed he and Nettic had been renting a speeder together for the past month, and Lusoff had been in a bar fight with Nettic last week, accusing Nettic of cheating him in a business deal.
Bolook caught her eye again. Aithne walked over. /Checking my work, Teacher?/ she asked.
/I noticed your man is binding up Rickard's leg, and wondered what you have discovered,/ Bolook said.
/His ankle's sprained,/ Aithne reported. /Getting to the body this morning. Pretty sure he's telling the truth about that, but he's also the only one I've established clear motive for yet. Nettic cheated Lusoff in a business deal recently; they had a bar fight over it. But Guld's lying about the full extent of his relationship with the victim too; he says he barely knew him, but they've been renting a speeder together for a month. I need to press Guld on that, and I want to find out about that blaster. Think you could leave me alone while I do your work for you?/
Without waiting for an answer, she turned away to Guld again. She was invested in the drama now, and honestly, Bolook's blackmail didn't matter. "Okay, Guld," she told him. "You and Lusoff have pulled me into your holovid soap. So, tell me: why'd the information droid over there tell me you've been renting one of those infernal speeders with Calder for weeks?"
Guld blanched. "But I . . . I realize this must seem like a motive to you, but I assure you it isn't. I dislike Calder, true. I would punch his face in," he said, eyes darkening and voice dropping again, "given the opportunity, but I would not kill him!"
"So, the rented speeder isn't evidence of your secret homosexual affair?" Aithne asked, raising her eyebrows.
Guld scowled. "Not my affair," he growled. "My wife's. They were in my own bed while I was in the next room, and that . . . they used my name to rent the speeder for Nettic's transportation! But . . . as much as I may hate Calder for that, I could not kill him," he finished, coming down from a wave of sick, black rage Aithne had sensed in him through the Force. "It may have been my own fault for driving my wife away. I must not try to take the law in my own hands. I was just out running, trying to clear my head for the divorce proceedings, not stalking him to kill him! Running is not a crime!"
"Uh-huh. If you don't like speeders, and I buy that now, and you often run, you have to know that's a bad idea out here without a weapon. So, tell me—the rifle by the body, is it yours?"
"Yes," Guld sputtered. "But . . . but it was stolen from my house last week! I never knew what happened to it! You're right—even an iriaz out here can take a man down if it gets in the mood; every settler has a weapon. It's our most prized possession, but I hardly have enough money to afford a single blaster, let alone another. I just—I wasn't thinking this morning when I headed out. I just . . . had to get out of the house, to clear my head, like I said!"
Aithne narrowed her eyes. "Right," she muttered. Then she walked straight over to the information droid. If blasters were so valuable and Guld normally walked across the plains, Guld would've reported the theft of his rifle, but as she suspected, the droid had no report on record.
So. Nettic's a speeder person. His being unarmed makes sense, but not on foot, unless he was the one who was really running this morning, because Guld only just discovered Nettic screwing around with his wife. There was a confrontation. Nettic couldn't get back to the speeder. He fled across the plains, and Guld did stalk him, with his own rifle, and then—
Her eyes went to Rickard's hunting laser, and she sucked in a breath. She blinked at the droid. "Hey, there was a blood sample on the blaster rifle found by the body. Bolook sent it off to be analyzed. What can you tell me about it?" she asked.
"I have just received the analysis back," the droid reported. "The blood on the weapon is definitely not Calder's. Unfortunately, there was a chemical contaminant in the sample that had been taken back to the laboratory, and it had become degraded. We cannot get any more specific analysis from that sample than the fact that it did not belong to Calder."
Aithne nodded, unsurprised. She walked back over to Bolook. /You want a ballistics report,/ she told him. /That's going to be what'll give you the evidence you need. That and the fact that there is no report on that blaster rifle—Handon Guld's—being stolen. I think if you head to Guld's property, you'll find a rented speeder there, unless Mrs. Guld has returned it or tried to drive it elsewhere in a panic. She and Nettic have been having an affair. Guld found out this morning. Caught them in the act in the marriage bed. He chased Calder out into the storm, and . . ./ she shrugged.
/And what of Rickard?/ Bolook demanded.
/He was out here,/ Aithne confirmed. /Probably hunting iriaz like he claimed, or it's possible he knew where Nettic would be this morning and came on purpose; he knew Calder better than Guld did, if not better than Guld's wife. At any rate, he sighted down on Nettic—but Guld had already fired. Lusoff's shot hit or grazed Guld. He's been clutching his side all morning whenever he thinks we're not looking, and unlike Lusoff, he won't admit to being hurt, because the second he does, we can prove he was here when the murder occurred and that he was holding the murder weapon. The wound patterns from blaster rifles and hunting lasers are really quite a bit different. Like I said: ballistics./
Bolook hummed. Then he strode over to Guld. /Handon has been moving oddly since I arrived. Perhaps we should examine him more closely./ He moved to check Handon's side, and Handon moved away rather violently.
"Hey! What are you doing?" But Guld suddenly found his shoulder gripped rather firmly by a Wookiee head and shoulders taller than he was. He shrank back, and Bolook peered beneath his jacket, then let the jacket fall.
/There is blood!/ he called. /You say it proves Handon's possession of the murder weapon, and also Rickard's own attempted murder of the victim?/
/That'd be my guess,/ Aithne confirmed, as Onasi and Ordo moved up to flank Lusoff. /Guld called the enclave, and here we are. Guld is guilty of murdering Calder Nettic, and Lusoff is guilty of attempting to. And also of miserable aim./
"You're telling me," Ordo said. "Not only is Guld hardly grazed, he's the wrong man. Now this idiot gets to go to trial for shooting a guy he had nothing against!"
"Damn you," Lusoff spat, as Bolook handed first Zaalbar then Carth sets of cuffs to bind both men.
/Mr. Lusoff, Mr. Guld, I place you both under the arrest of the Jedi Order and will escort you to holding facilities in the Jedi enclave. Well done, Aithne Moran,/ Bolook added. /I will be sure to inform the Jedi Council of your performance in this little test./
/Wait, you're not going to take all the credit?/ Aithne asked, raising her eyebrows. Bolook's lekku waved, and Aithne made a disgusted noise. /Go on, get out of here./
She and the others watched as Bolook and the two criminals disappeared over the bridge. "I guess you did good," Onasi said. "You might just make a proper Jedi yet. Who knows?"
Aithne glared at him. "Gonna bring that down on my head, are you?" she grumbled. "You know, that puffed-up, bullying incompetent is probably considered a proper Jedi."
Carth laughed, but Zaalbar smiled with his eyes. /You did the right thing, regardless of his attempted blackmail. I honor you, Aithne Moran./
Aithne sighed. "Thanks, Big Z." She glanced over at the horizon. "Sun's going down," she noted. "We should really try and find this corruption they want us to get rid of." If it was here, both the raiders and the murder could be symptomatic.
"Finally," Canderous growled. "I've been itching for some action."
"We've been quiet for forty-five minutes solving a murder," Aithne said aloud, "and already the Mandalorian wishes we'd been out committing more murders ourselves." She reached out with her senses, then moved back across the footbridge, past the place they'd fought the raiders and toward a stand of trees.
"We're close," she said, catching sight of an old, ruined pavilion. "There."
"That's the place?" Carth asked.
Aithne looked at the stone pillars. Emanating from the ruins was a nimbus of emotional energy—rage and guilt and sorrow and despair. "That's the place," she muttered. She grabbed her lightsaber and started forward.
"I will be your doom!"
Aithne ignited her lightsaber, taking up a Makashi guard, as a Cathar woman leapt out from the ruins. Behind her, she saw all three of her companions frozen, put into Force Stasis by her adversary.
She caught the Cathar's red lightsaber on hers and grunted; the Dark Jedi was brutally strong and using the Force to augment her strength, and she was taller and more muscular than Aithne herself. Aithne backed up, disengaging, considering.
The Cathar's yellow eyes blazed at her. She was young, maybe a year or two older than Bastila, but not much. There was a braided strand of red yarn in her pulled-back mane—she'd been a Padawan. She came at Aithne again—Form IV, a form that relied heavily on the Force to physically boost attacks. The best counter was to prolong the fight, and not just from a physical perspective. Aggression, when met with no resistance, often burned itself out. Aithne let herself widen into a Soresu stance. She raised her chin at the Cathar, beckoning.
They reengaged. Aithne let the Cathar chase her, moving away from Carth, Canderous, and Zaalbar so the woman wouldn't attack her allies, leading her further into the ruins. She built a wall of her blade, often deflecting or sliding the Cathar's blows off of her saber instead of catching them and withstanding the full force of the blow. The Cathar began to hiss and sputter in frustration as the battle went on. Aithne watched her chest, the rise and fall of her breathing, the reach and precision of her movements, and the tightness around her eyes, waiting her out. The Cathar was using her rage and desperation to fuel her aggression, pushing it through the Force into her lightsaber combat at the same time she was trying to keep Carth, Canderous, and Zaalbar held in check. Her head wasn't in this fight, or she would switch to Niman or Makashi to spare her strength or get out. She was outmatched.
Finally, when the Cathar was gasping and heaving, she made a leap overhead, and Aithne saw she was going to land more than half a handspan out of line. Her guard went wide too. Aithne flicked her wrist. The smell of burnt cloth and fur filled the air, and the Cathar's red saber went spinning away to land humming like an angry wasp atop the stones. Aithne leveled her own saber at the woman's face. Its green light illuminated the Cathar's orange-and-yellow features, her glowing golden eyes in the growing darkness. The woman placed a hand over the burn on her saber-side forearm—Aithne had just grazed her, but she could have taken half the forearm, and the Cathar knew it.
Slowly, she brought both arms behind her head and sank to her knees. Aithne's saber followed her all the way, and across the ruins, Aithne heard angry yells and a roar, indicating, Carth, Canderous, and Zaalbar had been released.
Boots and claws pounded on the stone. "Hold!" Aithne ordered sharply.
"This is the enemy?" Ordo demanded.
"She is, and I say, hold," Aithne repeated.
"You . . . you are strong," the Dark Jedi panted in heavily accented Basic. "Stronger than me, even in my darkness."
"Who are you?" Aithne demanded, without lowering her lightsaber for a moment.
"I am Juhani," the Cathar answered. "This is my grove! This is the place of my dark power. This is the place you have invaded. When I embraced the Dark Side, this is where I sought my solace. It is mine!"
Aithne narrowed her eyes at the woman. "If you embraced the Dark Side, why did you feel the need to seek your solace?" she challenged the Cathar.
Juhani closed her eyes, and Aithne felt the pain and guilt within the ruin surge. "When I slew my master, Quatra, I knew I could never go back," she answered. Then her eyes opened, flashing, "And now I revel in my dark power! Power to crush to life from one such as you—or so I had thought."
That sounded like bluster to Aithne. What was real was I knew I could never go back, and Master Zhar's instruction this morning for Aithne to confront the source of the darkness, not destroy it, his reminder that not all those who went dark were lost forever. The Jedi wanted this one back. Aithne switched off her lightsaber, hooked it to her belt, and knelt in front of Juhani, mirroring her position, albeit without her hands behind her head. The Cathar's hands came down, and her head tilted curiously.
"The Force is the Force," Aithne told her plainly. "A Fallen Jedi can channel it to inflame her attacks, empower her strokes against an enemy. A Jedi can do the same thing to make herself like a cliff or the breaking waves of the sea, impervious to the fire." It was a paraphrase of something in the Jedi texts, and Juhani's shoulders seemed to droop. "Sith like to talk up the power of the Dark Side," Aithne shrugged. "As far as I can tell, it can help, in some situations. But there are Light Side counters every bit as effective."
Juhani sighed. "What is it you want? Why do you bother me?" Her voice ached with raw pain. The first twinkling star appeared in the sky.
"My name is Aithne, Juhani. I'm an apprentice down at the enclave. Or I'm training as one, anyway. I'm pretty sure we both know I'm here because the Council sent me to you. What isn't clear is what's going to happen next. I'd like to talk," Aithne said. "You're not hurting anyone but yourself with all this nonsense about reveling in your dark power. You're unhappy."
"What of it?!" Juhani cried, tears spilling from her eyes and into the fur of her face. "What if I am unhappy? Do your duty, apprentice! Kill me now, while you still have the power!"
Aithne shook her head. "That's the easy way out. Not but that it doesn't seem like you're fond of that, since you've run out here instead of facing the music back at the enclave or jumping a shuttle to go join the Sith. Don't snarl at me," she added, as the Cathar's face contorted, her muscles spasmed, and she half seemed as though she'd rise. "You won't be killing anyone for a while yet with that arm, least of all me. I beat you fighting with your dominant hand. It wouldn't take as long with the off hand—that is, if I didn't cut you down before your lightsaber made it back to you.
"I'm not inclined to give way to your despair and cowardice," Aithne continued, "and I don't have to kill you to prove my superiority."
"I know," Juhani said then, bowing her head. "I am pathetic. I sit here and think myself to be great by embracing the Dark Side, but I am nothing! There is no way I could be turned back!" She sobbed. "I always thought they held me back, were jealous of my power. But it is only because I was not good enough to meet their standards. I never have been."
Aithne waited until the girl had finished. "News for you, Juhani," she said then, "You have not embraced the Dark Side. No one who does is as miserable about it as you are. When they rant and rave about the 'power of the Dark Side,' they mean it. They're like ads for this great new drug. Also, you ever noticed that there is no one actually good enough to meet the Jedi standards?"
Juhani looked up at her, wide-eyed. Behind her, Aithne felt Onasi and Ordo both staring too. She thought she felt Zaalbar's approval, but the Cathar's anguish was too thick to really tell.
Aithne shrugged. "My friend, Bastila, has problems with pride and impatience. Me? I don't buy into every chapter and verse of the dogma, and that has every one of them up there half convinced I'm destined to be the next Dark Lord. Even Master Vrook on the Council has some serious anger issues. As far as I'm concerned, if we all just stopped trying to pretend we're perfect and started trying to be the best we can every day, as we are, we'd all be a lot better off."
"You do not seem like a Dark Lord," Juhani told her. "You seem wise. I seem to have much to learn—both about being a Jedi and about myself. But I wish the cost of my ignorance had not been so high! I wish that my master had not suffered because of me!"
"Yeah, why'd you kill her again?" Aithne asked. "If you regret it so much now?"
"She . . . she angered me," Juhani said. "Said I would never—but it does not matter! My attacking her, injuring her so severely, killing her is unforgivable!"
"It's bad, but if she's dead, she's gone back to the Cosmic Force, and she will know you regret her death," Aithne said.
Juhani shifted positions, sitting on her rear end instead and hugging her knees to her. She looked up at the stars rising overhead. "If she were alive now, there would be so much I would say to her," the Cathar whispered. "So much I would apologize for. I loved her, you know. She had been my master for years. It was why I was so angry when she said—you believe the Council may have sent you to retrieve me?" She looked back at Aithne, eyes flashing. "They can never take me back."
"What, like you're so far gone?" Aithne challenged her. "A couple klicks away and just about drowning in the guilt for what you did? Suicidal over it? Please. I'm almost certain Zhar at the least is just dying to give you a big hug and kiss that Dark Side booboo better. That's his less-than-Jedi failing, by the way: he's carrying his own burden of guilt, regardless of what the Code says about that. You can use that."
When Juhani looked hurt and uncertain, Aithne sighed.
"You got angry, Juhani. It sounds like your master intentionally provoked you. You may have used the Dark Side, with regrettable results, but you didn't fall. You didn't embrace it. You're scared and despairing—which, again, Dark Side emotions, not necessarily equal to a fall. Embracing the Dark Side is an action. You're still caught up in reaction. Now, you could choose to embrace the Dark Side, say your master had it coming, all this crap isn't worth it, and you want to be on the next shuttle to a Sith academy. But you're not. Instead, you're here, thinking about how much you loved your master, how much you wish you could go back to the Jedi. Well, guess what? You can. Might not be easy, might not be without consequences, but the only person keeping you here is you."
"If I show them I am free of passion," said Juhani, talking mostly to herself now, "that I am serene . . . That I am willing to forsake the Dark Side . . . Maybe, just maybe, they would take me back. Do you think they would?" she asked suddenly. She reached out with her injured arm for Aithne's wrist, then hissed. The motion pulled at her burn. She cradled it to her chest. "Could it be possible after what I have done?" she asked.
Aithne shrugged again. She stood. "I've already told you that you have a shot with Zhar. I'll also remind you that they're really short on warriors to fight Malak, enough that they trained a twenty-eight-year-old apprentice."
Juhani shook her head. "You are no mere apprentice," she said. "I have never . . . I have not fought or spoken with anyone like you."
Aithne wrinkled her nose. "Don't go idealizing me too hard," she advised. "Like I said, they don't like me up there. They're training me because they need me, not because they want me. Bastila thinks I'm doing this Jedi thing all wrong. She's right, but I don't want to course-correct. You want to head back to the enclave with us?"
She held her hand down to Juhani, and the Cathar took it, accepting her help to rise. "No," she answered. "I will return to the Council. I shall submit myself to their judgment and hope that they will forgive me. But I think I should do this on my own. But . . . I thank you. I am sure I will hear great things about you in the future."
"Put in a good word for me someday if it ends up being that I'm the next Dark Lord," Aithne said, and the Cathar smiled at her shyly in return. "May the Force be with you," Aithne added.
Juhani turned. The Force gathered to her, and she set off, and within seconds, she was beyond Aithne's sight, having used to Force to speed her beyond the horizon in a few leaps and bounds.
"That woman is a murderess," Carth said quietly after a moment.
"She's also a Cathar," Canderous said. "She's a fighter through and through. She probably didn't kill her master in cold blood."
"I don't think she did," Aithne answered, looking after Juhani. "But I have no idea why Master Quatra pushed the girl that hard."
Canderous grunted then. "She may be a fighter, but she was also a coward. You could've crushed her easily. Why didn't you?"
"Maybe because Aithne's not a bloodthirsty killing machine," Carth snapped.
Aithne stepped between the two humans. "Leave it, Carth, it was a fair question. I think the Jedi wanted her back, but they would've been fine if I killed her too. Whether she meant to or not, Juhani struck a lethal blow at her master in what was effectively a temper tantrum. She wasn't a committed Sith or Dark Jedi—far from it—but she's been flirting with those naughty emotions alright, and giving way to them too, in pretty dangerous ways."
She fell silent, considering Ordo's question. "I think, mostly, I didn't kill her because she's a coward," she answered finally. "Once we'd found her here, and once she knew she couldn't beat me, she wanted to die. Better that than face up to what she'd done. Like I told her, that's too easy. She doesn't get to get off looking this in the face. If she does it right, she'll be better for it. Killing her would just be a waste."
"Huh. You know, you were right," Carth said. "I think you are doing this Jedi thing wrong. But I'm not sure that's a bad thing, either. It was . . . it was pretty incredible, the way you talked her down like that."
"Anyone who got the Cathar to stop lying to herself could've done that," Canderous said. "Come on. The kath hounds'll be sleeping now, but we should be heading back."
JUHANI
Juhani left the Council chambers, staring at the new lightsaber within her hand. The kyber crystal within was pure, uncorrupted. She activated the saber, and it shone clear Guardian blue. She had thought she was fallen, condemned. Now she was a Jedi Knight.
Quatra was gone—not slain as she had thought but healed. She had broken the student bond and set Juhani free. She was out among the stars again now, searching out new apprentices. Juhani still wished she might apologize, might beg Master Quatra for forgiveness—still, she understood why Quatra had made the choice she had done. Juhani's very attachment to her was as much a weakness as the anger that had arisen when Quatra had criticized her sentimentality, her volatility, claimed she could never rise to greatness. Provoked her, Juhani now realized, into confronting her own fragility.
Oh, yes, she was fragile. She had believed that she was stronger than the Order's innumerable restrictions, that so many were unnecessary to achieve true enlightenment within the Force. When she had first joined the Order, she had been devoted to every precept; she had vowed to never put a foot out of line and become the greatest Jedi of all time! But . . . these past few years, she had grown complacent, impatient. She had allowed arrogance to creep into her practice, let passions invade . . . and the result was precisely what her masters had always warned.
The Darkness was just a breath away, always. From now on, she would be more careful . . . but she would also have to walk the path alone, without Quatra . . . and without those who had been her companions in dancing across the borderlines. One was already gone. The other . . .
Juhani closed her eyes. She would love Belaya forever, but she also saw now how that in itself could be a danger. If Belaya ever pressed her as Quatra had done, how long would it take her to break again? A Jedi lived free of passion.
It was how she had been beaten in the sacred grove today, she realized now. Her fear and rage had fueled her in the Force; the Sith did not lie when they said the Dark Side could make you strong. They did not say how it could also make you foolish: rash, reckless, and unobservant, crashing that strength without discrimination upon a stillness that could dash it to pieces. The apprentice in the grove—Aithne Moran, friend to Bastila—had dictated the terms of her combat with Juhani from the start. Aithne Moran had had little to do but defend herself and wait until Juhani had overextended herself. If Juhani had not been so blinded by fury and desperation, could she perhaps have seen it?
She was unworthy of her knighthood; of the clemency she had been granted. But then, perhaps that was the point. She remembered the words of Aithne Moran: that there was no one who did meet the Jedi standards. Perhaps they were more a goal to be strived for than one to be reached.
Across the courtyard, Juhani saw Aithne Moran now. At her side, the human male in the bright orange jacket Juhani had seen in the grove and another Juhani had not seen before: a Twi'lek girl, still a child. Neither dressed in the robes of the Jedi. The larger, older human male and the Wookiee were nowhere to be seen.
"Aithne Moran," she hailed the woman. The apprentice raised her head. "I must give you my thanks," Juhani told her. "Because of you, I am once again welcome within the Jedi Order."
Aithne smiled, though she looked weary. "What did I tell you? I don't think I got a chance to introduce you to my friend before in the grove—this is Carth." She indicated the human male, then the Twi'lek on her other side. "And this is my ward and associate, Mission Vao. Carth, Mission? Juhani."
Juhani bowed to the human and the Twi'lek girl each in turn. "I have spoken with the Council," she told Aithne then. "They have helped me see the truth." She explained what had happened. Aithne listened, and so did her companions. When she had finished, the Twi'lek smiled.
"Hey, I'm glad you're not getting hung up on all this. The past is in the past, you know?" Juhani smiled back into the girl's earnest face. This Mission Vao was a friendly sort, she saw, and she could sense the girl had a pure and generous spirit, though she was blind to the Force. She wondered what circumstances had come together to make her the ward of a Jedi apprentice.
But the male frowned. "First the Jedi trick you into becoming an enemy, and then they welcome you back as a friend. I can't say I approve of their training methods."
Juhani bristled at the slight to Quatra. "It was necessary," she insisted. "I would not have believed I could fall so far through any lesser test. Now I know. I shall not be so complacent in the future. I can keep a watch upon my inner Darkness—my passion, my anger and arrogance."
"So long as you don't fear it," Aithne murmured. "Fear too can lead to the Dark Side, or so the story goes."
Juhani gazed at the human woman. She sensed this time, Aithne Moran spoke as much about herself as about Juhani. "This was a trial for both of us," she said. "If you proceed to the Council, I believe I will not be the only one receiving a new rank this night." She raised her hand to indicate the place where her Padawan braid had once been tied but was not longer.
"Ooh, I get a tragic new hair accessory?" Aithne said, clapping her hands together in faux excitement. Juhani blinked at her, puzzled.
"You are an unusual Jedi," she remarked, "and I believe a very odd woman. Still—once again, I thank you."
She bowed, and Aithne, instead of bowing in return, tipped a mock salute that nevertheless had no true feeling of disrespect about it. The Twi'lek girl, Mission, waved, and the man, Carth Onasi, gave Juhani a nod, and all three passed onward.
Juhani watched them go. In the Dantooine dusk upon the plains, she had not seen that Aithne Moran was beautiful, or realized the true power of the Force aura surrounding her, even more powerful than that of Bastila, the Padawan Aithne claimed as her friend, and the Council's darling. But still . . . very odd.