Chapter 7

The man calling himself Rayf Moors helped her through several dark, grimy alleyways, across skybridges and catwalks, up and down multiple levels through moss-covered stairs and creaking turbolifts. Eventually, she found herself at the top of a thin, rickety tower with a flat roof that served as an unintentional landing pad. The smells in the upper levels and atmosphere were not as overwhelming as the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa's endless snarl of urban overpopulation, though the wind was much stronger, carrying with it a curious mixture of moisture and particles of debris that were slimy on the skin, while the zephyrs were warm enough to make the skin of her scalp crawl. Upon the platform sat an odd ship Foyi did not recognize, looking like an oblong handle straddling a half-ovoid shape, with a pair of stubby wings protruding from its sides. The hull plating was heavily scratched, dinged, and carbon scored, though there was enough of the paint job left to show maroons, silvers, and blacks. Rayf explained that it was a starship constructed by a third party from the original designs for the Firespray-31 class Patrol and Attack Craft, which only saw limited use before the Clone Wars and niche markets and customers ever since then. He was obviously proud of his vessel when he shared its curious name: The Flamusfracta. Foyi found the name familiar, but could not recall from where she might have heard it, and found herself too hesitant to ask.

The interior of the starship was not particularly large, but surprisingly clean, orderly, and spartan in appearance and decoration. She got an impression that Rayf had structured his surroundings with functionality and pragmatism in mind, rather than indulging in style or creature comforts. He found her a seat that was only marginally comfortable, but remained serviceable. He then dug through some of his belongings and offered her bacta patches, which she declined with a mildly perturbed wave of her hand. Ultimately, she had suffered several bruises and minor cuts, and while the bruise to her jaw and her back were ugly and rather concerning, they were nothing she could not counteract with a healing trance.

She had not really needed any medical attention from him, anyway, though she had allowed herself to be helped along to a location where the two of them could speak more freely. For she had just met the first Force-sensitive not native to Yanibar, and only in the space of a few hours on a moon that most likely housed billions of beings. Such a meeting was too coincidental to actually be counted as a coincidence. It had to mean something.

But as Rayf busied himself about the ship, attempting to be a decent host and find her something to eat and drink, Foyi found herself at a loss for words. She could feel him in the Force, like an exuberant geyser in the middle of a calm, gray sea. She could feel the connection he had to it, the power he could call on, and knew that as she studied him mentally and spiritually, he was similarly evaluating her. For she was not attempting to hide her own Force signature, though, in retrospect, considering she knew next to nothing about this man, may have been a wise course of action. He could be working with the Empire, a member of the feared Inquisitorius. Or worse, he could be a Jedi the Purge had failed to eliminate.

Foyi did not claim to be much of a people person, nor did she necessarily trust her first impressions of those she met. But she sensed no hostility from Rayf, and the Dark Side had not stained his soul as far as she could tell. All she felt from him was the same thin, unobtrusive currents he sent her way as the ones she searchingly probed his presence with. Accompanying these was a profound sense of peace, of belonging, as if he knew his exact place in the universe at all times, and was satisfied with the knowledge that he was where he needed to be. She realized she had so many questions, regarding himself, his abilities, his connection with the Force, and his claim to knowledge of Point Nadir's location. And yet, she could not find one word to speak, nor how best to breach any of these subjects.

Rayf handed her a cup of blumfruit juice, which she accepted gratefully, though she once again waved away the offer of food. She was too flustered, too pained, and too excited to eat, though she figured she could at least sip at the beverage, if for no other reason than to give her something to do in the heavy, awkward silence between them.

Finally, Rayf spoke. His voice was clear, soft, and gentle, the voice of a man who spoke little and did so when he felt it was necessary. "I must say I'm surprised, but very glad to meet you, Foyi Imbuma. It's been a long time since I met someone else who's Force-sensitive. I was beginning to think the Empire really had succeeded in killing or corrupting all those who could touch the Force left in the galaxy."

Foyi slurped from her cup, peering at him over the rim. "Is the Force where you got your...abilities?"

He smirked. "You mean my sick moves? I suppose the Force is largely responsible, though my Master could take some credit. In fact, he probably would have taken all the credit, were he still here. That's just the kind of person he was..."

"Are you some kind of...Jedi?" Foyi asked in an apprehensive tone.

"You know, I grew up thinking I was going to be one someday, but I guess it just wasn't in the cards. And for once, that wasn't the Empire's fault. I'm actually what's known as a Matukai Adept."

Foyi gave him a quizzical look. "I...can't say I've heard of 'Matukai' before...Wait, did you just make that up?"

Rayf chuckled. "No. Go ahead and feel me out if you have to; I'm not lying to you, though I completely understand your distrust. When the Empire eradicated the Jedi, the Matukai were next. We were a pretty obscure and exclusive...club, if you will, to begin with, and we're even more so now, considering I'm pretty sure I'm the last one alive." He retrieved a packet of nutrient bars from a container and flopped down in a seat across from her, savoring the bar as if it were a delicacy. "We Matukai were once a group of Force-sensitives who saw the Force not as a tool or an energy field outside of themselves, but the spiritual aspect of all beings, to be kept in perfect balance with the physical form. Our bodies are our temples as well as our weapons; we become one with the Force through physical exertion and honing all aspects of ourselves. We feel the Force through constant and consistent exercise, through breaking past our physical limits, through the balls of our feet and the knuckles of our fists."

"So...you're saying Matukai use the Force to hit things really hard with their fists?"

Rayf looked like he was going to argue that assertion, but then he shrugged and nodded. "Well, that's a simple, but pretty accurate description. For the most part. There's a lot more to being a Matukai Adept than that..." His hands flashed down to his jacket and his belt, and in the space of milliseconds, he had assembled his polearm once more, the butt of which he planted on the metal deck between his feet. "Like using one of these as an extension of our physical forms and our connection to the Force. Like the Jedi of old crafted lightsabers as a rite of passage and a mark of identification, each Matukai builds and uses his or her own wan-shen." He gestured to the polearm as he spoke the name, then leaned the weapon against the bulkhead and resumed his consumption of the tasteless nutrient bar. "Looks pretty wicked, doesn't it? Of course, it takes years to learn how to properly wield the thing, and even more time to master it. Not that I claim to be a master myself, but I get by."

"Obviously," Foyi remarked, recalling the fates of the Anjiliac thugs back in Baruk's Bar. "I've never seen someone move so quickly, so precisely. Were all Matukai like that in your day?"

"Whoa. 'In my day'? I ain't that old, sweetheart. But yeah, that's one of the things the Matukai were known for. That and our skills in martial arts. I know some Teräs Käsi, but have always preferred the Echani forms myself."

Foyi finished her juice and set the cup down before narrowing her gaze in scrutiny. "Well, that's all well and good, Rayf, and I must say that many of my questions have been answered. However, none of what you've said so far explains why you chose to help me in the cantina. I know it didn't look like it, but I had everything fully under control." Even as she said the last phrase, however, she could not evoke the sense of confidence she wished to convey, considering she did not truly feel it.

"Of course you did," Rayf replied. She was uncertain whether his words were meant to be patronizing or not. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared intently at her, those frigid eyes of his piercing past her physical shell. "I chose to help you, Foyi Imbuma, because I believe I was meant to help you. I feel the Force...speaking to me when I'm around you. I've wandered the galaxy for a long time, always hiding in plain sight, always on the run. But today, I walked into that bar, and I felt more at peace, at home, than I have since I left the Jedi Temple. I found the feeling strange, indescribable, but palpable, as if I was rooted to the spot, as if I could not leave the bar even if I wanted to. So I bought some drinks, and resolved to wait until the Force revealed what it wanted of me. And when you walked in, I just knew that I was meant to help you...and I didn't even know yet that you were looking for something or that you needed help."

"So you were listening when I was speaking with Morb and his goons?"

Rayf nodded. "I heard about your sister and how you're looking for her, to rescue her from Anjiliac slavers. I think I have a pretty good idea of where she might be..."

"Point Nadir?" Foyi interjected hopefully.

Rayf nodded solemnly. "What makes you think she might have been taken to Point Nadir?"

A shadow crossed over Foyi's expression as she recalled the death of Lido at her hands, and the cold, slimy feeling of the Dark Side worming its way through her spirit. "I never spoke with the slavers myself, but I did get information from someone who had, and he claimed that the spacers mentioned operating out of Point Nadir. It's...a real place, isn't it?"

Rayf leaned back in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh. "It's a real place, alright. Its a hidden spaceport built inside a comet called...um, Resh 9376, I think. Deep in the Outer Rim. It's a place for pirates, smugglers, spicerunners, all kinds of scoundrels, scum, and villainy. It's one of the Anjiliac Clan's main bases, and they move a lot of slaves through there on a regular basis. The place is supposed to be pretty hush-hush, though, so if these mercs of yours mentioned it, it was probably important enough to assume that your sister will end up there, or at least pass through there onto other buyers." He noticed the angry scowl growing on her face, and a pained grimace came to his own. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be insensitive here, just realistic. How long has your sister been gone?"

Foyi took in a deep breath, considering for a moment whether she should really be talking to this man. Whether she should be trusting him at all. His story about the Force guiding him to her seemed rather convenient, though even among the independently minded Zeison Sha, there were proponents of the theory of the Living Force constantly whispering and guiding those who could touch it. And she could not deny that though she should feel at least somewhat uncomfortable around this person she had known for the space of an hour, she did not. Instead, she felt a sort of kinship with Rayf, an impression of belonging, as if sitting with him on this ship had been preordained, and she was meant to be here all along.

Or maybe Morb had hit her in the head harder than she had first realized.

Finally, she decided to play along for now and answer. After all, this man claimed he could get her to Point Nadir, and that was the important aspect of this whole bewildering situation. "She's been gone for about a week now. At least, I think it's been a week...I'm not sure what the time differential between Yanibar and Nar Shaddaa is."

Rayf was taken aback. "Yanibar, huh? So that's where you're from? You and your sister?"

Foyi merely nodded. Rayf whistled. "I've never been there myself, but from what I've heard, that's a hell of a place to live."

"It can be." She stood and stretched, testing the muscles that had been bruised by her beating at the hands of Morb and his thugs. "As lovely as this chat and the juice has been, Mister Moors, I'm really short on time...my sister is short on time. So if you have coordinates for Point Nadir and how I can get there, I'd appreciate the help, and then we can go our separate ways."

Rayf stood as well, deep concern written across his face. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Foyi, but I could tell you all about Point Nadir, how to find it, how to get in, the whole ball of Hutts. But you aren't getting in there without me."

"Why you, specifically?"

"I do...odd jobs for some people in power there. From time to time. Point is, they know me, so they'll actually let you in if I'm with you. Otherwise, you'll end up having to go through a lot of scrutiny that I'm sure you don't want."

Foyi considered it for a moment. "So you are willing to fly me to Point Nadir, and help me rescue my sister, even if it means turning that entire comet inside out?"

"That's what I've been trying to say."

Her brow furrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

"As I said, the Force-"

She made a cutting motion with her hand. "I know what you said. I want to know what you get out of it."

Rayf sighed, seating himself once more. "Fine. Let me tell you a story, Foyi. I was discovered to have minor Force potential when I was only a few months old, and taken to the Jedi Temple to be trained as a Jedi. Turns out my Force sensitivity wasn't as potent as the Masters at first believed, and I flunked out of the Jedi Initiate Trials. The Council wanted me to work in the Service Corps, doing menial tasks and growing plants and all that kark, and I knew I didn't want that, so I left the Order entirely. And that's when I was approached by the Matukai Adept who would become my teacher and master, and through his training and the ways of the Matukai, I realized greater Force potential than I had ever thought possible out of my mediocre self. And then the Empire came, and everything changed. The Jedi were slaughtered, and even as we Matukai watched and realized we could do nothing, Palpatine turned his attention toward us and wiped us out. I've managed to stay ahead of the Inquisitors and Shadow Guards and Purge Troopers by never staying in one place for too long, pretending to be a gambler, smuggler, and all-around scoundrel so that I don't literally have to bury myself in a hole on some backwater like Ziost or Tatooine...or Yanibar. Sorry." He smiled sadly, his eyes looking back into past events only he could see and relate to. Foyi had not understood half of the things he referred to, but she did not interrupt, waiting patiently for the conclusion of his meandering story. "Problem is, I got so good at playing the part, I became the mask I'd been wearing for so long. And while it's kept me alive, I found that I don't particularly like myself as I am. I...didn't want to be the person I am. I wanted to be a Jedi so badly, so that when I was deemed unfit, I threw myself headlong into the Matukai tradition. You see, being a Jedi, or a Matukai, was always a means to an end for me; I realized I was different from others, different from birth, touched by the Force. And I realized that since I was different, since I had the potential to be powerful, I had to act differently from those around me. Instead of focusing on my own selfish needs and desires, I looked at all the injustices, pain, and sorrow experienced by others in this broken galaxy, and I asked myself, 'Can I do something about this?' So for me, being a Jedi, or a Matukai, is more than establishing and balancing my own relationship with the Force, but using the Force as a tool with which I might make a positive change in the galaxy. And now I've found a wrong that I might help right, one that the Force itself has brought me to. All this time, all these years, bouncing from one end of the galaxy to the next, I've simply been surviving, even thriving. But not living. Not measuring up to my potential." His gaze met her own, and sincerity was the only thing she saw in those frigid, pale eyes. "Rescuing your sister will give me a chance to live again, by ensuring that she will get that same chance. Please, Foyi Imbuma...let me help you."

Foyi could not help the minute smile that came to her lips. Previously, she had seen herself as not really having a choice in the matter. After all, Rayf claimed he knew where Point Nadir was, had a ship he was willing to let her aboard, and was offering his knowledge and impressive skillset to the task of rescuing her sister. Given these advantages, she had no choice but to agree, for Tama's sake. But now, after listening to his "testimony", she felt far better about her choice. "Alright, Mister Moors. I will gladly accept your help, since you are so adamant in helping."

Rayf gave her a boyish grin, which was interrupted by a momentary scowl. "It's Rayf, by the way. If we're going to be working together, you're going to make my skin crawl with 'Mister Moors' all the time."

Foyi sighed. "Very well, Rayf." She cast a glance about the interior of the ship with an inquisitive eye. "Do you have other business on Nar Shaddaa, or may we go now?"

Rayf gave her an incredulous look. "I'm sorry, but how long have you been on Nar Shaddaa?"

Foyi checked her chrono. "About three or four hours."

Rayf began to clamber up to the cockpit. "Then I understand your hurry...that's three or four hours too long. Let's go save your sister."

The trip to Point Nadir was a lengthy one, even longer than the voyage from Yanibar to Nar Shaddaa. It was only the second time in her life that Foyi had traveled the stars in a spacecraft, and she already found it unbearably boring. It was not due to the company, as Rayf was an interesting individual, full of unique insights and wild stories. But her sense of crushing, indomitable time had not lessened, and the fact that she would have to spend long hours in hyperspace once again while her sister was transported the Force knew where made her sick with worry. Her only consolation was the fact that Tama's captors most likely were spending equal amounts of time in hyperspace, and as long as they were not taking her from Point Nadir, she may yet catch up to them.

At least, that was her fleeting, failing hope.

As they traveled, she spent a few hours in a deep, meditative trance, gaining the equivalent of the regenerative properties of actual sleep, as well as enhanced healing of her wounds. She found herself longing for sleep, as she could no longer remember when she last lay down for even a short nap. But she did not give herself the option. She had to stay aware, strong, and whole, for Tama's sake.

To try and get her mind off the unknown horrors possibly being visited upon Tama at every possible second, Foyi spent some time exploring the ship known as The Flamusfracta and conversing with Rayf. The Firespray-31 was significantly smaller than Pash's ship, with more claustrophobic rooms and a greater premium on space. However, most of the chambers and rooms within the ship were not actively used, and those that were showed only infrequent visitation. Either Rayf did not spend a lot of time on his ship, or he believed in keeping an unusually tidy vessel. The supplies and foodstuffs aboard were as generic and bland as any she had ever come across, though the blumfruit juice was still delicious.

Rayf spent most of the journey in one of the empty rooms with the staff weapon he called a wan-shen, working his way through blurring martial arts maneuvers against countless imaginary opponents. When she asked what he was doing, he did not even pause in the middle of a form that was composed of a multitude of lightning-fast stabs, followed by wide sweeping arcs of his blade. He merely answered with a calm, even breath, "I'm meditating." She then watched his "meditation" with interest as the time stretched on into an hour or more, and he still showed no signs of stopping or slowing, and only began to sweat small rivulets toward the end of his meditative session. Foyi had known only a few members of the Zeison Sha who had practiced a type of "moving meditation", where they would practice tosses with their discblades or repetitive activities to produce a deeply contemplative and introspective state. She had even known one of the Masters who could descend into a regenerative meditation session by consistently juggling his discblade between his hands telekinetically.

Rayf later questioned her about her own connection to the Force, as well as her training and abilities. After some hesitation, she revealed that she was a Zeison Sha Warrior; she felt a twinge of disappointment when Rayf replied that he had never heard of the organization. It did give her a chance to show off a bit with her discblade, something she typically did not do, but once again, it was an activity with which to take her mind off of Tama's predicament. Rayf was mightily impressed with her command over telekinetic Force powers, something that he admitted had never come very easily to him. He also displayed happiness when she explained how the Zeison Sha still thrived in secret, though their numbers were few and the Empire had done its best to erase their cultural identity, their very existence, from the harsh surface of Yanibar.

"It's great to hear there are still Force-users out there who have survived the Emperor's fury," Rayf remarked. Foyi was surprised but encouraged to see that sharing her knowledge and experience as a Zeison Sha had provided him a lift to his spirits he had greatly needed.

Finally, the navicomputer chimed, and they dropped out of hyperspace. Foyi, despite her frustration with space travel, was dazzled once again by the solemn, empty beauty of space, the countless stars filling her vision. But it was the celestial object hanging in the middle of the expansive viewport that inevitably drew her attention, the comet known as Resh 9376. She had never seen a meteorite or comet before, so she had no previous experience or comparison, but she found this one hauntingly beautiful. It was a rough, oblong shape of ice and ore, looking not unlike a hat squashed on the floor or a crumpled article of discarded clothing. Its surface was a tortured, pockmarked collection of varying stones, minerals, and ores, sheathed in jagged ridges and spires of ice. Jets of vapor hissed intermittently from its surface, projecting outward into space and creating a halo of barely-visible atmosphere. From her vantage point, it seemed that the comet before her was not moving at all, but on the far side of its asymmetric mass, the corona of dust and vapor trailed off into a tail of pale light, suggesting that the asteroid was moving at a speed fast enough to produce such a path of detritus in the void. In the side facing them, a large hole had been slashed into the comet's exterior, like the gaping maw of space slug, its throat a dark void of shadows.

Foyi looked over to Rayf. His piercing gaze was still calm, detached, distant even, though his brow had furrowed slightly. "This is it. Point Nadir." He began broadcasting a hailing signal, and sighed heavily. "May the Force be with us both."