Author's notes: I wrote this 15-20 years ago in response to a challenge: "One member of a couple is sentenced to death, and dies. No happy endings." I never posted it—so far as I remember, that was because I'd never actually read the books that featured Siri (still haven't :p ) and wasn't confident in my characterization/AU spin on a plot arc I knew only through fanfic. I rediscovered this fic in my files a few years ago and still hesitated to post it, essentially for the same reason. But Viari and Mira-Jade think I should post it, and they're pretty persuasive, so here we are :p It's old, it's unbetaed, I hope you like it anyway. I really wish I'd included in my original file whose challenge inspired this, but I didn't. Thank you, angsty prompter of Ye Olden Days at the JC. Almost two decades later, here's a response for you.
It was just another mission. A simple one this time, Zora thought as she strode swiftly toward the bridge. These diplomatic ships were nearly always easy targets, after all. Soft. You'd think that even the diplomats would have learned by now that soft didn't get you very far in this galaxy. Still, if their ignorance led to her profit, she'd not argue the point.
She was approvingly noticing the almost imperceptible but uniform shudders of the deck beneath her feet that signified smooth weapons operations when a burst of Force-agony doubled her over with shared pain.
The Force.
Even as the agony dulled, Zora stood frozen, a hand pressing against the corridor wall as though it was a lifeline. The Force was a myth, a myth perpetuated by the Jedi to justify their elite standing—
No, a nearly forgotten part of her mind shrieked. This is the falsehood, this life, this corruption, not the Force—
I'm Zora, pirate, outlaw—
Siri, Jedi Knight—
Siri stood shivering, no longer even seeing her surroundings, overwhelmed by the sudden struggle within her.
"Zora?"
Zora calmly turned to glare at the speaker. "What?"
Rosha stood behind her, her head tilted as she looked questioningly at Zora, as always, her narrowed eyes obscured by a mop of unruly hair; hair nearly as dark as Zora's own—No, Siri whispered, my hair is blonde—
"Want to explain why you're just standing around when there's work to be done?" Rosha asked scornfully.
"And since when do I explain anything to you, Hutt-slime?" Zora asked with equal contempt.
Rosha tossed her sloppy hair back, unimpressed. Zora watched her with cold eyes, while somewhere deep inside, Siri watched it all wide-eyed, amazed that this way of life could ever have become familiar.
"It is a common danger associated with deep undercover missions," the comfortingly familiar voice of Master Adi said as Siri carefully read the datapad that outlined the proposed mission.
"Losing yourself—" Siri looked up and shook her head. "Master, how could I ever forget this?" She swept a hand around to indicate her quarters within the Temple. "Or you, or myself? It is no danger."
Her comlink beeped harshly, and she thumbed it on and brought it to her mouth, her eyes never leaving Rosha's. "Zora here."
"Zora." It was Krayn's voice, calm, with that ever-present edge of cruelty. Like a dirtied, clouded sea, Siri thought, full of hidden dangers beneath the deceptive stillness. "Get down to the docking bay, now." The connection clicked off.
Zora raised an eyebrow at Rosha, whose eyes narrowed further. They turned from each other cautiously, the eye contact never breaking until they were both well out of striking range. It took another moment beyond that before they fully turned away, both reluctant to expose any vulnerabilities. Even as Zora walked away, she listened to Rosha's departing steps behind her, keeping her hand hovering over her blaster, just in case.
Walking within the Temple, calm serenity penetrating to one's very bones. Every person you meet, a brother or sister . . .
A shudder ran through Siri, and she forced herself to concentrate. That pain she'd felt was still present but dimmed. She could discern nothing beyond the pain, but it felt connected with Krayn's call, somehow. The Force whispered to her of danger, a danger beyond the physical.
She had not shaken that feeling when she entered the docking bay. She saw only the backs of a handful of fellow pirates, clustered around something on the deck . . .
Krayn turned to face her, a mocking hatred simmering behind his eyes. "Look what we found." He held a hand out to her, and Zora reached out her own hand to receive what he offered, strangely mesmerized by his hate and glancing down only belatedly at what she now held.
Siri nearly dropped the lightsaber hilt.
"A lightsaber is a reflection of yourself, and of your connection to the Force. An elegant weapon, symbolic of all that we are."
Zora's reflexes intervened, keeping Siri's fingers curled around the hilt and her face expressionless. Zora hefted the hilt experimentally, looking questioningly toward Krayn.
"A lightsaber," he said.
Zora looked carefully at the hilt, gently pressing the activator. The blue blade sprang to sizzling life, and Siri tentatively swung it in the horizontal side-swipe that was the basis of Form I.
A swift twist of her wrist, and the blue blade went flying from her opponent's hand.
"Well done, Siri," Master Adi said, her voice and eyes warm even if her words were calm.
Master Jinn's voice, with that knowing hint of laughter it so often contained. "You'll have to practice more if you want to beat young Siri, Obi-Wan."
"What are you doing?" Krayn hissed, and startled, Siri deactivated the lightsaber and handed it back.
"Curious, that's all," Zora told him defensively.
Krayn struck her with a ringing blow across the side of her head. "I don't pay you to be curious!"
Siri fought back a sudden urge to call the lightsaber back to her hand. Zora lifted her chin with a defiance born of self-preservation. "Why did you call me here, Krayn?"
"Where do you think a lightsaber comes from, Zora?" Krayn asked, quiet venom coloring his voice.
"From a Jedi, of course—" Zora's scorn fell silent as Krayn's wave motioned the others away from their point of focus, blasters still held ready and aimed. She saw the small, still body first. The face was turned away; all she saw was short blond hair, and the single braid. Stricken, Siri looked quickly away.
Only then did she see him. Barely older than herself, kneeling on the deck with his hands bound behind his back. He looked away from his padawan as she did, and their eyes met. Zora stared. What was a Jedi doing here?
"From the diplomat ship," Krayn said scornfully. "Trying to sabotage us, apparently. They never got that far."
Adi's hand was a soothing warmth on the side of Siri's face. "We will find a way to contact you when your mission has been accomplished, my Padawan."
His hair was longer, and he had a beard—He looks so mature, so distinguished, Siri thought with surprise—but it was definitely him, nevertheless. Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had always tried so hard to be the model Jedi, was now glaring at her with both recognition and a very un-Jedi-like hatred in his eyes. The recognition caused an unexpectedly strong surge of hope within her, hope that the charade was over, hope that she could go home, away from the filth that dominated her every waking moment. The hatred irrevocably struck down the hope before it could do more than make Siri's heart ache with a desperate longing. He knew her, all right, but he didn't know of her mission. He still believed the pretense that made the mission possible; he believed Siri's staged quarrel with Adi and her subsequent break from the Jedi. He believed that she had betrayed them.
"Kill him."
Zora turned away from the hostility in the Jedi's eyes and faced Krayn. "What?"
"You heard me," Krayn said. "Kill him."
The lightsaber—Krayn was always so suspicious. If she hadn't ignited the lightsaber—
Zora's hand reached automatically for her blaster; Siri stopped before she reached it. "It's a Jedi, Krayn. You don't want to kill him yourself?"
Krayn's arms folded across his chest, and the suspicion was blatantly manifest in his expression. "I took care of the little one. This one's yours, Zora."
Kill Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan who had irritated her so as they grew up, with his constant determination to out-Jedi them all? Obi-Wan, who despite it all had been her friend? Siri remembered that when she had dared to dream of going home, Obi-Wan had always figured in those dreams. He would have forgiven her for her betrayal of the Jedi, she knew, when he realized that it had all been part of a mission. They would resume their friendship; they would spar again, and he would roll his eyes at her triumph when she beat him; he would help her soothe the aches in her soul that this mission had inflicted—
"Now, Zora," Krayn snarled.
"Krayn possesses a brutality beyond that even of most slavers." Adi's expression had been more serious than Siri could ever remember seeing. "It is a daunting mission for one so young, I know, but the Council believes you can do it. As do I." Adi smiled, and Siri felt such pride, that her Master would have such confidence in her. "Krayn must be brought down. It is of the utmost importance."
Her mission had not yet been accomplished. Krayn was still a threat. If she was revealed as a Jedi, she would die as well, and Krayn would be ever more cautious about accepting any new crew members. Any Jedi who tried to correct Siri's own mistakes would face greater danger, and near-certain failure.
Krayn had to be stopped. No matter the cost.
Zora aimed her blaster. He's only a Jedi.
Siri pulled the trigger.
