Author's note: We're getting close, people. Two more chapters (including this one) and then the wedding. I promise. I'm planning an epilogue after that, and then...wow, it's done. Sort of a shock, actually. I was concerned about the baby thing, and had actually been debating putting it in or not almost from the beginning. I just hope it didn't scream 'PLOT TWIST!' to anyone reading it :0)
Thanks again, everyone, for your comments and support. Don't stop now, please!
Always, LJ
Canderous
We hadn't shared our news about Jennet's pregnancy yet. It was proving to be an extraordinarily full day and we wanted just a little time to keep it to ourselves. We agreed to announce it when we had our attendants at hand, while we were donning armor and doing the last minute preparations. Jennet had wanted to announce it together, but I pointed out it would likely come out during the ceremony itself. I'd seen it before, and Elder Evana almost certainly knew. She agreed that she did want to tell her friends personally, and said that the fuss of bridal primping – my word, which she scowled at - was the best time she could think of. Telling the men of the wedding party would be up to me.
The thought of watching Jennet grow big with our child was incredible to me. I had thought once I would never experience fatherhood again, and was glad of it; I had nothing to offer a child, I thought, or any interest in a permanent relationship that might produce one. I had found myself wanting it again when I met Jennet. Of course, I had not expected it would be quite so soon, but I was enormously pleased at the prospect. I promised myself that this time, I would not miss anything.
Jennet herself was more than a little dazed about it and was struggling to come to grips with the idea. I could hear stray thoughts coming through about not having a clue about babies. I was amused; in this I had the experience. She had had very little exposure to infants, being an only child herself and moving around a lot growing up. She was already promising herself to quiz every mother she knew about what to expect. She was projecting more than usual for the rest of the day, at odd times while I showered and dressed and prepared for both the funeral and wedding.
Relax, Wildcat, I soothed her. It's going to be fine. You'll be a fine mother.
But I don't know what to do, she answered, a little panicked. I don't know anything about babies. I don't know how fat I'll get, or what labor's supposed to be like, or how much to feed them or anything.
No one knows much of that the first time, I assured her. You have plenty of time to learn.
I'm going to get fat, she wailed at one point as I was shaving.
You'll look beautiful.
You have to say that; it's your baby.
I say it because it's true, I laughed back.
Oh shut up, she sniffled, but I could feel her smile.
There was a small flat-topped hill not far from the camp, and that is where I suggested Bastila's funeral be held. Close enough to reach easily by twilight and torches, far enough away to be private and completely separate from the wedding. We took along the honor guard for caution; the beasts in the jungle can get restless near dark.
We made our way to the hill, everyone carrying a torch. The Jedi were all in their best robes, even Mira had donned a set. Jennet was in her wedding garb of new tunic and breeches, minus armor, as was I. We were very similarly dressed, except my tunic was a deep red. I was pleased with her choices of clothing for us; dark blue and red were the colors of my clan. The locket around Jennet's throat caught the flicker of the torchlight and seemed to glow in the dimness.
We didn't have a proper funeral dais, so the Jedi had decided to sacrifice the gurney from the Phoenix to substitute, knowing I'd approve. On a practical level, this made it easier to transport her to the site; the gurney could both roll and float on its anti-grav units. Jolee, Carth, Mission, Stefan, Dustil, and Ladria served as pallbearers. Ladria had asked me to serve as well, but after some thought, I had refused. I did regret her death to some degree, and had known her longer than most of the Jedi, but I didn't want to seem as if I was reproaching Jennet, and hadn't been very close to Bastila in any case. Ladria understood, and chose to take my place.
Someone, Ladria and Visas most likely, had cleansed and dressed Bastila's body in her formal robes, carefully arranging it so that the slash Jennet had dealt her across the throat didn't show. Her 'saber was in her hand. She lay in a large metal basin, vaguely coffin shaped, that had been hastily fashioned by Bao Dur. We reached the top of the hill, and the gurney's wheels were locked in place by the Iridonian.
Jolee stepped forward. "We are here to release the soul of our sister in the Order, Bastila Shan. May she find peace and solace in the Force. Let her spirit soar."
It was a simple speech, and everyone around me nodded as they intoned "Let her spirit soar; may she find peace in the Force." Jennet's voice was vibrating with intensity, and I put an arm around her.
Disciple moved to stand next to Jolee, and sprinkled several vials of chemicals over the body. I could identify most of them by smell; they were used to make a fire burn hot and quick, intense enough to consume flesh and bone in a matter of minutes. Then all the Jedi stepped up, and thrust their torches into the coffin.
The fire roared, and everyone stepped back quickly. We watched as Bastila's body was consumed, the fire lighting up the clearing. In about a quarter of an hour, everything was reduced to ash, except the mangled metal lump of her lightsaber. Disciple poured more chemicals over the whole, and I saw the wisps of smoke die. Producing a small brush, he carefully swept the remains, including the damaged lightsaber, into a small urn and sealed it, his face somber. He handed it to Jolee, who shook his head and gave it to Stefan.
"She was my friend," Jolee said quietly. "But I didn't know her as well as you. I think you would have a better idea what she would want done with her ashes."
Stefan swallowed visibly, the only time I'd seen him unsure of himself. "I think she should rest beside her parents," he said softly after a moment. "I understand she recovered her father's remains from Tatooine and buried them both on Coruscant."
Jolee nodded. "A good choice, son," and there was a murmur of agreement all around.
We all stood for a moment, silent, letting the moment sink in. Then without speaking, we left the clearing and made our way back to camp. I turned back before I climbed down from the clearing, and looked at the gurney, standing alone and still in the growing darkness. She'd been a Hero of the Republic, even if she hadn't wanted it, or deserved it. I could honor a fallen comrade. And a part of me admired her cleverness and strength of will. She had been a worthy opponent. I saluted her funeral pyre, and made my way down the hill.
Everyone was quiet for a while as we picked our way through the jungle. About halfway there, Mission spoke.
"I remember she tripped me once, on Tatooine. I was bugging her about using her Force abilities for fun, you know, like making someone run into a wall or getting back at Revan for teasing her. She insisted that the Force was too sacred to use for frivolous tricks, and I told her to lighten up, the Force had a sense of humor. The next thing I knew I was eating sand and wondering how I got there. I accused her of tripping me, and she just told me not to be so clumsy. But she was smiling."
"Yeah, she had a very dry sense of humor," Jolee said. "Almost wasn't there at all, and then she'd hit you with something that took you a couple of days to figure out she'd been joking. She told me once, very seriously, that she had proof I was bald because I left the Order. Sent me datalinks and everything. Never laughed so hard when I figured out she was teasing me."
"She sacrificed herself on the Leviathan, to save Revan and me," Carth said quietly. "I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for her fall."
"You had nothing to do with that," Ladria said fiercely. "She made her choices, and Revan and you did all you could. If anyone failed her, it was the Order itself; and even then I can't blame them; what she did was without precedence. No one had ever heard of cloaking your aura with another's."
"I'm afraid that's not necessarily so," Disciple said unexpectedly. "There is a training that very few Jedi have undertaken. It's an ancient one, developed when the true Sith were gone, when the Jedi would infiltrate the new Sith order ranks, for various reasons: espionage, rescue, double agents and the like. But the technique, as far as I could tell, was based on bringing forth the darkness of your own aura, to travel among the enemy undetected of your true purpose. It hasn't been used for centuries; too dangerous, and many agents of the Order were lost to the dark side using it. The records are spotty, and don't give the full extent of the training. But she did have access to it, and spent a great deal of time in the archives, both before and after the Star Forge mission. I found what was left of the records on Dantooine."
"That's not the same as what she did," Visas said quietly. "And she must have been cloaking herself from the time Revan thought she'd been redeemed."
"She was extremely intelligent," Disciple pointed out. "If she'd read those records before the Star Forge mission, she likely used that knowledge combined with her bond to Revan to mask her intentions immediately. She was patient, for all her seeming to appear otherwise."
"True," Ladria said thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, we're going to have to develop new ways to screen Order members, to ensure something like this doesn't happen again."
"Perhaps," Stefan said, shrugging. "Or perhaps not. I think we can agree that Bastila's was a unique situation, and unlikely to repeat itself any time soon. We'll have time to assess how far this has affected the balance of the Force."
"You Jedi can do that," Mission said fiercely. "I just know that I lost a friend, and I don't really know why."
She flounced away with quick angry strides, Dustil hurrying his steps to catch up to her. We were at the gates now, so I didn't try to call her back for safety. Jennet, with a reproachful look over her shoulder, hurried to join the Twi'lik, Carth at her heels.
"You know," I said conversationally, "I am probably the least surprised of all of you that Bastila wasn't what she appeared. I understand what this development could mean to the Order, and until recently I could give a frak what Jedi want to debate. Not that you want my opinion, but I think you are too worried about the meaning of the universe. Take that talk to your Council. You lost a friend and sister at arms; deal with that, and move on."
With that, I strode after Jennet, leaving speechless Jedi in my wake.
It took a little time to calm Mission down, and eventually the Jedi caught up, looking subdued and ashamed. They apologized, and Mission graciously accepted, and things were back to normal. Personally, I sometimes found Mission and for that matter, Jennet, a little too emotional at times, but I'd come to recognize that this wasn't the weakness I'd been raised to believe it was. The Jedi, however, should know better, and I was a bit peeved at their insensitivity. They tread carefully around me for a few minutes, but I shrugged it off, and after a half hour or so we split off to prepare for the wedding.
Ladria had offered the Ebon Hawk for me to get ready in, and not wanting to intrude on the women changing and doing whatever females do on board the Phoenix, I'd accepted. Jarxel had transferred my armor there during the funeral. The honor guard was split between the two ships with Zuka, Kelborn, and Tagren standing guard outside the Ebon Hawk, Dax, Kex, and Xarga at the Phoenix.
Jarxel settled the cape Jennet had commissioned on Onderon over my armor, clipping a corner to each shoulder. I had to admit it was a dramatic effect; the cape was basically a large rectangle, silver facing out, lined in dark red silk. It draped between my shoulder blades and swept almost to my heels. My clan badge was embroidered on the back, looking ready to scream away into the night. My Wildcat had done well; it wasn't fussy or too showy, and stayed out of the way if I actually had to fight.
"Well, old friend, you ready?" Jarxel asked as he smoothed out the fabric so it hung straight.
"As I'll ever be," I shrugged.
"She's a fine woman," Jarxel said, his craggy face creasing into a grin. "A credit to the Mandoa. I'm proud of you."
I stared at him, astonished. "You've never said that before," I said gruffly.
"You never brought as much honor to the Mandoa before," he said, equally gruff. "She's the best of us, and not even born to it. You two will make us strong again; you've already made us proud."
"Prepare to be prouder," I said, smiling. "You'll be a godfather in about eight months."
"I knew that already," he said, grinning. "I was wondering when Jennet would get around to telling you."
"Visas?" I asked, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, she told me. Thought Jennet already knew, actually. But she warned me not to say anything until you did. When did the Lady tell you?"
"Earlier today. Visas let it slip; Jennet had no idea until then. We're very pleased, of course. Timing could have been better," I said a little regretfully.
"It's never a perfect time for birth or death," Jarxel said practically. "Both just happen when it's supposed to." I nodded in agreement.
It doesn't take long to suit up, really, so Jarxel and I joined the others in the common area, sitting around, joking and having a quick drink before taking our places at the ceremony. I knew Jennet and her attendants would need much more time to get ready, so we simply enjoyed some male only company. I was impatient to get on with it, and looked at the clock every few minutes. Finally, I put my back to it, and wondered how Jennet was doing. She wasn't blocking me, exactly, but was busy and wasn't projecting as clearly as she had earlier.
Jarxel gave a toast to my soon to be lost bachelorhood, following up with one to my impending fatherhood. Back slaps and shouted congratulations to both rang around the cabin, and Jarxel went to tell the honor guard about the baby. They were very pleased, he reported back, and comments about the new addition's possible fighting skills were in heated debate. Every one of them wanted to be in on her training. I laughed.
"Trust them all to have their priorities right," I said, and raised my glass. "To Helen, who will be the most spoiled kid and ferocious warrior in the galaxy," I said, and everyone drank, roaring with laughter.