The air felt nice on her skin, gentler than the recycled, conditioned air of the temple.
She couldn't even bring herself to enjoy it.
A hand on her shoulder stopped her from following Obi-Wan and Jar Jar as they moved ahead. She turned, looking up at Qui-Gon. He was looking at her with worry in his eyes. "Are you alright, little tooka?" Raiko considered lying. Another look at his kind face decided her against it. She shook her head. "What's wrong?"
"I'm useless." She whispered quietly. "I'll never be a Jedi."
Qui-Gon frowned, dropping to his knees in front of her. "And why do you think that?" he asked gently.
She shrugged, stomach doing unhappy flips, and her throat tightening embarrassingly. She hated crying in front of people. "I'm so… afraid. And I can't use the Force. This is my first mission – but all I wanna do is go home." Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt hot tears spill over. Qui-Gon looked pained.
"Oh, Raiko…" he murmured, and hugged her gently. "It's alright. It'll be alright. The Force is with you, whether you feel it or not. It led you back to us on the ship, didn't it?"
Raiko shrugged again, still crying. She bit at her lip. Stop crying. "Jedi don't feel afraid." She whispered.
"I do. I feel afraid all the time." Qui-Gon's easy confession made her hiccup in surprise, pulling back to look at him. His face was open, no lie in his eyes. "And I'll tell you a secret; on my first mission, I cried all the way there, I was so afraid. My master thought I had allergies my eyes were so red!" despite herself, she giggled. "You're a youngling, and you should never have been exposed to this. It's alright to want to go home. Every Jedi gets afraid. It just shows how strong you are, that you are afraid and yet you continue."
"Even… Even Master Windu?" she asked. He smiled.
"Even Master Windu." He stood up, wiping her tears away with his sleeve hem. "Now – do you think you can be brave for a little longer?"
She nodded. "Yes. I'm a Jedi." She said, firmly – and reached for her pearl. It was warm, like it was alive. "I can be brave." She said, and Qui-Gon's face split into a smile, and he ruffled her hair.
Raiko's first impression of the Naboo queen was one of splendour. The descriptions of the complicated royal outfits hadn't been enough to prepare her for the real thing, and for a girl who had grown up in a world of beige and brown, the bright oranges of the handmaids were brilliant, the intricacies of the Queen's dress was astounding.
She spent a good long minute staring, before she remembered herself, and bowed low. "Your Majesty." When she straightened, the Queen was looking at her.
"You're an Arcturian." Her eyes darted over Raiko's developing facial markings, and Raiko felt herself flush green. "Muri, come forth." The shortest of the orange dressed women stepped forwards, and Raiko saw the navy markings on her face and hands immediately. Raiko hadn't met another Arcturian before. Arcturians were not galaxy-travellers, and it was practically unheard of for an Arcturian to feel a wanderlust. She of course, had no memory of her own family, and she stepped towards the other woman feeling like she was dreaming. Was this what she would look like? "Look after the child, she is a credit to her people." The queen commanded. Raiko flushed with pleasure.
"Indeed. Youngling Omari has put her life on the line to aid her people." Qui-Gon said and the Queen nodded in something like pride. Raiko felt her heart fluttering, as Muri smiled at her and beckoned her closer.
"Do you speak Arcturi?" Muri asked softly as they fell into line again. Raiko couldn't deny she felt a little safer in the company of the blaster toting guards – even if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan did all the work to free a crew to pilot the large chrome ship. They ran up the ramp, and Raiko followed the handmaidens away from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.
"I learnt when I was five." She said, trying to mimic the woman's lilt to her words. It sounded like a dialect accent of some sort.
Muri blanched. "Five? But how old are you?"
"Ten standard years, eleven in a few weeks."
"Ten years old…" Muri breathed in standard, catching the attention of another woman near them. She was pretty, with a timeless sort of face. "That's only four-years younger than you Padme." Muri said to the girl.
Raiko thought that Padme looked a lot older than 14, but kept her thought to herself, as the pair of them began to fuss over her.
Raiko basked in the attention, allowing them to outfit her in modified shirts from the Queen's onboard luggage, braid her hair, wrap her in cloaks and bundle her into a chair with a plate of crackers and dried meat in view of the others. She wondered if this was what it was like having older sisters, as Muri cooed over her developing markings, commiserating with her about the itching as they grew in. Padme was brushing her hair again – the woman had taken it in and out of its braids several times now, seemingly fascinated with the colour. Muri had laughed and ran a hand over her own low bun, her hair a dull rusty red – "Mine isn't as interesting… not like yours, purple like jewels."
Before long, Raiko found herself alone again, Muri was asleep and Padme had left hours ago to go with Qui-Gon into the port in search of parts and experience. The ship was quiet, but the more Raiko focussed on her own restlessness, the more she became aware of another spot of awake mind in the ship. Slipping out of her nest of coloured fabrics and stepping around the sleeping forms of the handmaids, Raiko left the sleeping quarters and padded towards the source of the disquiet, dragging her blanket with her.
The cockpit was awash with red light, dull but bright enough to stain everything like blood. Raiko could just see faint lights in the desert ahead, evidence of the city. She wondered what Qui-Gon was doing, if Padme had discovered anything interesting. Her eyes fell upon the slumped form of Obi-Wan. He was very still, but his eyes were restless – roving the horizon, never focussed for more than a second. He started when she clambered up next to him, jolting in place and turning to look at her.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, but there was no animosity in his question.
"Shouldn't you?" she shot back, just as gently. He didn't respond. "Qui-Gon is okay. He's always okay." She said after a pause. "He's the best!"
Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "He is." He said faintly. Raiko regarded him for another moment. She thought about what having a Master meant. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had a special relationship, even she could feel that. Whether it was due to their personalities coming together in harmony, or something else, she didn't know – but she could tell that Obi-Wan was worried. So, she stood on the low chair, and threw the blanket around Obi-Wan. He jumped in place again, looking down at the warm fabric in surprise.
"You probably shouldn't sleep in the chair. B'ink told me that's how you get a bad neck." She advised him, and climbed down off the chair she was on. "But it's up to you."
Raiko went back to bed, and burrowed down into the fabrics. She smiled as she heard faint footsteps come from the cockpit, and a bedroom door sliding shut.