THE EARLY DAYS DUET:

BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE

Chapter Seven – Fugitives


AN: I have reemerged! Fleeting for now, as I am fast approaching my final month as an undergraduate student. Done by December, then I'll be a real-life adult with time on my hands! That's the delusion that keeps me going anyway. I've missed this story so much and I'm eager to continue it. Enjoy this next chapter! My attendance here will continue to be tentative until I complete all my college commitments between now and December. But I've been doing a lot of story-outlining between homework assignments, so expect MOAR ANGST AND SABEWAN TENSION YAY.


I reached for my blaster on instinct. My Q2 wouldn't do any form of damage since Todo's memory component blocked plasma from emitting through the weapon's chamber. But Jonash didn't know that, and I was more interested in using intimidation to force his compliance.

"Hey now, take it easy," Jonash said, daring to rise from his seat in the cockpit. "I don't want any trouble." He pointed lightly at his throat, then at me, silently reminding me of my surgical implant that was still actively listening for any treachery.

I hesitated, catching the hint. So he knew about my comlink. Knew that I didn't want to get busted any more than he did.

We were at an apparent impasse. Solo couldn't risk getting caught, and I couldn't risk having my only escape route slip from my fingers by revealing his presence. Either way, in order for both of us to get what we wanted, we'd have to make a convincing exchange of normalcy.

Jonash sustained his position, giving me a pointed look while I wavered, grimacing in indecision.

I kept my weapon pointed at him, but complied with the demands of yet another damned charade. This was not a friendly compliance, but a necessary one.

"My apologies," I said tightly. "I've been a little on edge today."

"I can tell," Jonash replied. "Rough day at the office?"

"Something like that."

"I've had my fair share of those," he said. His voice exuded charm and pleasantry, but his eyes stayed riveted toward my blaster. "Superior officers can be a real pain in the ass."

I held my ground, every ounce of me coiled with silent rage and frustration.

"I was told I would be doing this mission alone," I said, repeating my earlier malcontent.

"Alone for the mission, yes. But someone's gotta get you there first."

"I'm a capable pilot."

"I'm sure you are, but we were both given direct orders. Pesky, I know. But hey, it's all part of the job."

Part of the job…Did he even know that he was my intended target? Why in blazes was he even here? I got the nagging suspicion that he was here to help me…or was it perhaps the other way around?

I went silent, stubbornly unwilling to continue in the fake-rapport any longer. We were wasting precious time.

Jonash gave a grunt of irritation. "Could you please put the weapon down? You field agents are so jumpy."

I glared at him disdainfully, but obliged the request.

"Thank you," he said, though his tone suggested ungratefulness. It was clear that even he wasn't all too happy about this new predicament.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he said emphatically, "I've got a ship to launch. I'll bet you're itching to get to hyperspace just as much as I am."

My face cleared in realization. We'd be out of comm range as soon as we reached hyperspace. No one would be able to listen in from my implant. I'd still have a tracker attached to me, but by gods! I could have an unmonitored conversation with no risk of being overheard.

"I'll leave you to it then," I replied as nonchalantly as I could. I reached for the nearest chair and settled into it.

Jonash resumed his place at the helm, clacking aggressively at the keys of the console. The ship jerked in sudden acceleration. As the ship roared to life and began its ascent, I was rattled in accordance to the loud thrum of the repulsorlift.

Within minutes, we had breached the atmosphere and Jonash expertly charted our course. Time seemed to slow for a moment, then the stillness of space lurched into long lines of passing light. Unable to help myself, I stared transfixed at the sight that danced behind the cockpit's wide transparisteel window.

Hyperspace.

The sight of it left me in awe. Long rivulets of blue light danced languidly through the channel as we coursed through its limitless expanse. Occasionally, from behind the surging pull of our velocity, white light of stars peeked behind the undulating blue veins of hyperspace.

My only ventures through hyperspace had occurred only when I had been safeguarded in the windowless chamber of the Royal Cruiser. Every mission I was ever assigned thereafter had designated me solely to the confines of either Naboo terrain or Theed Palace.

I shook myself out of my trance, reminding myself of the importance to stay three steps ahead of any possible trap. That included my new cohort. We were finally out of frequency from my damned voyeurs at the RSF, so I intended to keep the upper hand in my standoff with Solo.

While he remained focused on his task at the console, I planted my blaster behind his shoulder. He stiffened in response.

"I take it you're not one for trusting people," he observed.

"Why in the hell are you here, Solo?" I demanded coolly.

"Well hey now, spitfire! Play nice," he volleyed defensively. "Dané sent me. I'm here to help."

"Dané?" I echoed, not quite believing my ears.

"Mm-hm. Freckles orchestrated this entire getaway for you right from the get-go," he elaborated.

"Why should I trust you? I have this distinct memory of you trying to keep us enthralled by your Falleen friend so that you could escape from us."

Jonash waved a dismissive hand. "Nousan was a thorn in my side. Believe me, I only sicked him on your lot so that I could get away from him myself."

"Strangely, that sentiment doesn't have me convinced that we're on the same side."

Jonash turned his head toward me and gave a lopsided smile, clearly amused at my expense. "So Dané didn't tell you, did she?"

"Tell me what?" I queried.

Solo swiveled in his seat and casually brushed my blaster away from him. He knew at this point that I had no intention of hurting him yet.

"Sweetheart, I may smuggle spice…but I also smuggle information. Dané and her fellow brigands of the Naboo Underground have been relying on my services for nearly a year now."

"Brigands?" I wasn't quite sure I understood what I was hearing. "The Naboo Underground is a government sanctioned militia," I refuted, "an asset protection program for the safety of—"

"It's an underground resistance," Jonash interceded bluntly. "Has been since the Reclamation. It fought against the corruption of the Trade Federation, and now it fights against the corruption of the government it sought to protect."

"And you're…what, their mole?"

"Nah, I'm just the messenger." Jonash reached under his chin to unclip his oblong helmet. Once he put the helmet aside, he raked his fingers aggressively through his thick brown hair.

I rubbed lightly at my temple, trying to process this new information. "How exactly did this come about? Dané has been under strict surveillance with the RSF, just as I have. There's no way she could have…"

"You of all people should know that where there's a will there's a way," Jonash said, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Dané must have told him about my insubordination too. "But…" I was still flummoxed; torn between which topic to divulge on next.

Jonash shifted his position, leaning forward with his elbows touching his knees. "Look," he said, "Here's what I know: According to my sources, this conspiracy you've been chasing runs far deeper than the Royal Security Forces—or even that Advisory Council of yours. If you're going to get to the bottom of this, you're going to need all the help you can get. Lucky for you, you have more allies than you think."

"Allies," I scoffed. "I still don't even know if it's safe to trust any of you. Including Dané."

"When you're dealing with revolutionaries, safe certainly isn't the operative word." Jonash said with a shrug. "Going in against the government is never a safe option. We're all pretty insane to want to go through with this in the first place."

I side-eyed him warily. "What's your motive here, Solo? You're not from Naboo. Why go through with all of this for a government that you have no ties to?"

For a moment, his usual languid confidence melted away into something soft and sentimental. "My family," he said simply.

I was startled to catch my first glimpse of the true Jonash Solo. This was enough to convince me to re-holster my Q2. "Your family?"

"I want to do right by them," he said. "Start a new life. A better life. After my first run-in with Dané, we struck a deal. I would serve as her informant, and she would find a way to get the Hutts off my back." The bravado returned to his face as he tossed me a wink. "Thanks for killing Nousan for me, by the way. Losing the Falleen enabled Dané and I to accelerate our plans."

"And…what exactly are these so-called plans?"

Solo's face split into a wide grin. "Well, first we need to figure out how you're gonna kill me."

"You're joking," I said flatly.

"I would never joke about my own murder."

"Why not just hightail out of here?" I asked, ignoring the quip.

"Because the whole point of playing along with this assignment of yours is to get you off of the RSF's scent," Jonash explained. "You are aware that they have tracking devices incorporated in this vessel, right? Not to mention that handy little comlink of yours."

My fingers traced the hidden contour on my throat. Right. As soon as we reached Corellia, I'd be under surveillance again. They wouldn't hear me, but they'd still be able to track me. I would have to keep playing their game.

"Not to mention, I'd prefer to be verifiably "dead" to the rest of the galaxy before I start my life fresh," Jonash added.

After a moment's pause, I squared my shoulders; newly set in my decision. "So what do you intend to have me do?"

"Well…how do you feel about blowing up a moon?"


We were still a day's ride out to Corellia. We had detailed our plan down to the minute for when we left hyperspace. But in the meantime, we had to take advantage of what time we could to prepare. Part of that included removing my comlink without damaging it. I had been instructed to lie down on a cot near the back of the ship while Jonash finagled with the wiring that nestled beneath the skin of my neck.

The cot on the chrome vessel was stiff and uncomfortable. It beheld no domestic luxuries like that of the Royal Star Cruiser. The automated doors were loud and slow upon opening, and the ventilation shafts puffed gusts of cool air in arrhythmic, noisy spurts. The raucous tremors of the ship indicated just how little money the RSF invested in intergalactic transportation.

Between the rumbles of the ship, and the ceaseless internalization of my thoughts, white noise saturated every crevice of my mind. Despite my effort to appear calm, the commotion was too distracting.

"So were you a surgeon before becoming a spice pirate?" I asked, trying to mask my apprehension with idle conversation.

Jonash paused to glare at me. "That's smuggler, thank you," he retorted. "There's a difference." He resumed his prep work from the other side of the cot, and continued. "And no. in my line of work, it's not uncommon for materials to be smuggled from inside a person. I'm no stranger to this sort of thing."

Fair enough, I thought. I silenced, giving him leave to focus while he completed his task.

Jonash turned around, armed with small, surgical utensils and a vial of numbing anesthetic.

"I honestly can't believe you'd choose to be awake for this," he said shaking his head. "Is it that you still don't trust me, or…?"

"I trust you to do what needs to be done," I allowed, "but I'd rather not sleep just now."

"I can't fathom why," he replied. "This is probably the only opportunity you'll have for that sort of thing."

I stared ahead at the ceiling panels above my cot. "I don't like what happens when I sleep," I confessed.

"Well that was cryptic," Jonash said. "I'd ask to elaborate, but I'd rather you stop talking so I can get this over with."

"I have a bad feeling about this," I grumbled. I lifted my chin to give him better access to my throat.

"Have a little faith," Jonash scorned. "This comlink's not gonna remove itself you know."

I felt the prick from the vial, then gradually succumbed to the loss of feeling altogether. There was something calming in that lack of sensation. I felt my mind drift, feeling heady and dazed while my body remained immobile.

When the anesthetic finally began to command my body's lethargy, the fear and anxiety suddenly felt like a muted hum. My limbs lost their feeling, my eyes fluttered shut, and my heart finally found a palliated meter. Even my ears no longer felt attuned to the mechanic tics of the vessel. Within minutes, my consciousness drifted towards a foggy semblance of sleep. From the back of my mind, I realized what Jonash had done, and in frustration I tried to fight it, but my vision tunneled into a heavy, black veil.

"Welcome back, Sabé."

My eyes struggled to focus as I reopened them.

Was I awake again? Medically induced sleep had a tendency to make the passage of time completely illusory, but this seemed…different.

Sparks of orange and bronze flickered past my line of vision, whimsical and ethereal.

Minrota.

But of course. It would be foolish to think I could avoid her forever. Anesthesia was powerful stuff, but it couldn't hold a candle to Minrota's persistence.

I let out a groan. "Not you again. My day is bad enough as it is."

"I come only when summoned."

"Well it sure isn't me who summons you." I groused. "It doesn't seem to matter how abundantly clear I make myself; you still refuse to leave me alone." With a jaded sigh, I eased myself upright from my cot. My action gave me a moment's pause. My surroundings hadn't changed like they had during Minrota's previous encounters. Apart from the waiflike presence of Minrota, everything else was…normal; right down to the irregular gusts of air ejecting from the vents.

"Am…am I still awake?" I asked, flummoxed.

"You bestride the realm of both worlds," Minrota replied. Her lips never moved, but her voice still echoed clear like crystals in my head.

I shot her a spiteful look. I had no patience for any more word games today. "Elaborate, please."

To my surprise, she obliged me. "Your abilities continue to grow. The more you use your gift, the more capable you are of discerning your vantage between dimensions."

"Oh, finally something optimistic." I grumbled, rising from my position. "Why are you even here?" I asked. "You keep popping up, begging me to embark on some cryptic crusade, and every time I tell you no, you just throw more visions at me. What gives?" Before she could reply, I held a scornful finger her direction. "No philosophizing."

"Philosophy is not why I have been summoned."

I crossed my arms, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. Was she…letting me dictate the conversation? That alone felt more surreal than any other interaction I'd ever endured with her while in this state.

"I bring information," she stated. The slight tilt of her head caused the long jewels that hung from her headpiece to glint a little.

"It'd better be relevant information," I said, my tone biting. "I don't know if you're fully aware of what goes on in my waking world, but I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment."

"You are a conduit between worlds. What influences you in one world irreparably affects the other." Minrota paused at this. "Your waking world has damaged you," she acknowledged, almost sadly. "You are more volatile since our last encounter."

My skin prickled in response, though I was unsure if it was due to my rising anger or my imminent fear. Volatility was hardly a word I would assign myself to. I was…unhinged, certainly. But volatile? I couldn't afford to feel that way. There was too much at stake.

"Your senses must be off kilter," I bluffed. "I feel fine."

"I sense a growing fear in you." Minrota said intently. "Use it with care, Sabé. The coming times will assuredly catalyze your abilities. You must remain aware of how your feelings affect your actions. Now more than ever."

"It's not like I'm a Jedi," I retorted, pulling out the Zenda stone emphatically. "This stupid Force amulet of yours is just taking advantage of me."

Minrota shook her head. "No Jedi, certainly. But no Sith, either. You hail from a long line of force sensitives. We call ourselves Wielders."

"Wielders?" I repeated, newly captivated by what she had to say—and mildly surprised that what she was saying was finally beginning to make sense. I hoped it would be consistent.

"We are acolytes of The Ones. We serve as both warriors of the night and sentinels of light. We strive to both inhabit and bind the opposing energies of the Force. Our mission, our very destiny, is to maintain the bond between the Dark Side and the Light, until balance is restored to the galaxy."

I had no idea who The Ones were, nor had I ever heard of any kind of force-sensitive that didn't wholly embrace one end or the other of the Force's dichotomy. I found this new information both striking and invigorating. And yet…

I looked back down at the stone as it continued to glow bright and hot in the presence of its former owner. There was no way I was a part of such a legacy. My abilities never even manifested until I had obtained the Zenda stone.

I repeated this to Minrota. "No one in my family has ever been force-sensitive," I expounded, "and no Jedi has…" I faltered, realizing my statement to be Jedi had sensed the change in me. I recalled the day when Obi-Wan Kenobi eased me gently out of my vision in Ferentina. But even then, neither of us could make sense of what was happening or why.

"Your skills are latent, but powerful," Minrota replied. "Wielders have been dormant since the Battle of the Nine." My gaze drifted to the narrow scar that seared Minrota's ghostly lips, recalling my vision of Minrota as a younger being as she led against the advances of the near-corporeal shadows that sought to overcome Ancient Naboo.

Minrota continued, "The fate of the galaxy is on the cusp of transformation. The return of the Sith nestles in the underbelly of darkness, eager to uproot the balance we have worked so hard to contain."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

"You weren't ready to hear the words I tried to say."

I supposed she might have had a point there. This was the first time I was even remotely inclined to listen to her. I wondered if that meant that my receptiveness directly influenced my mind's translation of her logic.

It's as real as you make it, she had told me. Back then, I was too terrified; too stubborn, overwhelmed and confused to bother trying to understand. Now that I was desperate to get answers—for everything—my mind was more yielding to variables I had once thought to be indomitable.

"Your time of tribulation has only just begun, Sabé. Be wary of where your heart lends itself to."

"Thanks for the warning, but I think I've got a handle on this," I countered, not fully believing myself.

"Not yet," her eyes warmed with encouragement. "But you will, in time."

Then she faded from sight. The Zenda stone cooled to normalcy, reverting to its deep shade of garnet-red.

I was once again alone.

I pressed my palms against the edge of the cot where I sat, leaning slightly forward in contemplation.

I am a Wielder.

Now that I knew my force capabilities weren't symptomatic as I had first thought, I was left with no other choice but to learn how to harness these new growing powers of mine.

I rubbed at my throat, suddenly feeling a dull twinge of pain. As soon as my fingers grazed against freshly sewn stitches, I froze. Was I back in the waking world?

I glanced at my bedside table and noted the small circuitry that piled in a small knot of wires and metal. A miniscule light pulsated slowly from the comlink, indicating that it was still online. Surgical utensils and stained cloths were set in a row alongside the comlink.

My eyes roamed further, then caught the scribbles of a haphazard note left next to the remains of my extracted implant.

Sorry, spitfire. The procedure went way smoother while you were put under. You can be mad all you want, but it was for the best.

"Damn you, Jonash," I harrumphed, crumpling the note before making my way back to the cockpit. My steps were still weighted and groggy from the fading effects of the medication. Luckily it wasn't a long walk to my destination.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Jonash exclaimed upon my return.

I grunted into the copilot seat and shot him a glare. "I got your note."

"Apology accepted?" He asked humorously.

"Still deciding."

Jonash was unfazed. I felt the ship give another shudder as we continued to propel through hyperspace. "You were asleep longer than I thought you'd be," he noted. "We're almost to Corellia."

"Good," I said.

The ship tremored again, as though it was working hard to keep up to pace in faster-than-light speed.

"Smooth ride," I remarked a bit snidely.

"Well, shortcut- routes in hyperspace can be a little dodgy," Jonash replied. "Especially if the course was charted to avoid being seen."

"Seen by whom, exactly?" I asked. "We're already being tracked by people we want to avoid in the first place."

"You're an undercover agent committing an act of galactic treason," he said snidely.

Right. I held my tongue, not wanting to admit embarrassment for not having thought of that. I hated to admit it, but I needed him. My thoughts were scrambled from everything that had happened within the past day. His level-headedness was the only thing keeping me alive.

"Making our approach," Jonash said, switching gears on the console.

I let out a shaky breath, anticipating Corellia's lush planet to come into full view.

The moon was small, uninhabited, and cloaked by the shadow of Corellia as it made its orbit into a lunar eclipse. Jonash docked the ship in a hangar constructed on one of the moon's many craters.

"That's no moon," I snarked. "That's a boulder."

"Size matters not," Jonash wagged a finger as if to chastise me. "It's a drop off point for smuggled merchandise," he explained. My crew remains unseen while the research clinic that occupies the moon gives us coverage in case the government ever comes sniffing around."

"You're a fool-proof enterprise," I said drily. I didn't care to learn trivia about a place that we'd soon obliterate. "You're sure no one else is on this moon?"

"Positive," Jonash said. "Don't worry, all the necessary arrangements have been made, sister."

I nodded. I kept forgetting we weren't as alone as I originally thought. Nonetheless, his reassurance didn't stop me from muttering that I had a bad feeling about this.

"Still got Dané's datapad?"

I nodded.

"Good. Follow the coordinates."

"You know where they lead?" I asked.

Jonash cracked a smile. "Not a clue," he said. "But that's half the fun, isn't it?"

I harrumphed. "You sure you're not a pirate?"

"Smuggler," he corrected lightly. He tossed me a comlink. "Use this if you need to get in contact. And don't forget your tracker, too."

"Don't insult me," I retorted.

Jonash punched the access panel to lower the gangplank. "See you on the other side," He said giving a small salute before exiting the spacecraft.

I stared ahead of me, gathering what I had left of my courage. Corellia loomed slowly over the horizon, taking over nearly a third of the sky as it drifted past smoggy clouds. The lunar eclipse made everything grow steadily darker, and I found myself strangely encouraged by this. I activated Dané's datapad and huffed out an anxious breath as the coordinates sprang to life on the screen.

Showtime.