Chapter 11: Discussions and Pirates (Patreon)

Kaeli found him in her sparring ring as the sun had fully cleared the mountains; the white, snow-capped peaks shining in the star’s golden rays drifting down over the estate in warm halos of light.

His white hair lay askew on his head, a curtain swishing around him as his pale blue saber swept through the air in narrow, concentrated arcs of plasma. Matching pale blue eyes glazed slightly, as if what he was looking at was not really there.

He looked like the holos of Jedi she had seen in that moment, something heroic… but also something slightly tragic she couldn’t put her finger on.

The casual way he held the silver hilt of his weapon in a loose grip, spinning the cylinder in his palm, like a reminder of what Jedi were supposed to be.

“Am I truly that interesting?” his voice cut through her thoughts like his blade, and Kaeli startled, looking at him more closely.

He paced the center of the circle of pounded flat dirt, looking at her with an amused expression; she noted, for the first time, that he was barefoot, and his feet were covered in powdery yellow dust of the ring. He also wore only loose white trousers and nothing else, his bare chest flexing as his muscles shifted beneath his pale skin.

She saw his weight pass from one foot to the other, a slow, calculated shift.

It wasn’t any form she knew or even studied in passing. It wasn’t Echani, certainly. It had Echani's bones underneath, possibly at least, the way an old speeder would still have the components that it had started with but huddled amongst newer and stranger brethren.

She stood at the arch and “You’re talented,” she said for lack of anything better to say.

“High praise coming from a woman trained by a former Master of the Order who was himself taught by our Grandmaster,” Jacen remarked casually.

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or giving me a compliment,” Kaeli returned.

Jacen chuckled lightly, and he turned to face her, his saber held off to the side casually, its silver hilt glinting in the sun, angular golden lines catching her eye in the hilt of the saber.

Jacen seemed to notice her interest and, without a word, switched off his saber and then flipped it around in his hand, offering the hilt to her. “Care to take a closer look?” he asked.

Kaeli had been trained enough in the Force to know her mind hadn’t been read, but still it was unusual in the extreme just how he opened up to her in that moment. The same pleasant smile; it was like a caricature of everything the Jedi had been described as to her.

So, without a better answer, she stepped forward, wanting to test this. He held out the silver hilt, and she grasped it, running her hands over a surprisingly temperate surface, the metal smooth against her palms.

She opened her mouth to say something before she was suddenly no longer standing in front of Jacen; instead, she was in a crystalline, icy blue cave, watching a young boy with the same silver hair standing before a stalagmite, his hand reaching out to its tip, feathering over a softly glowing crystal.

Then she was back, looking into concerned eyes the same shade as her own.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Kaeli nodded, pushing away any thoughts or feelings that wanted to surface; something about that scene had unsettled her, but she couldn’t say what. Something was off; her psychometry had triggered in big ways before, but that was-

Jacen’s gaze was sad, unmistakably so, his brow furrowed as he looked at her like someone who cared was supposed to look at what they cared about.

Kaeli turned her head, not having the space in her mind to deal with that emotion, and instead spun the hilt across her palm before instinctively igniting it, the ice-blue blade springing forth with a snap-hiss.

She marveled at its color and the way it felt in her hand, a strange, almost sense of belonging, yet it was cool, like the touch of a snowflake on Eshan flowing up her arm, reminding her of-

She switched the blade off hastily, pushing away what her psychometry wanted to show her; it wasn’t the time, and really, what would a Jedi have to show her that could be so interesting?

But what bothered her wasn’t that he was a Jedi; or perhaps that was at least not the only thing bothering her. There was something she still didn’t understand. “I want to spar.” The words escaped her lips, and Jacen looked… discomfited?

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he replied.

Kaeli raised an eyebrow, surprised yet strangely not; his presence in the Force was so strange that she really expected almost anything to have come from his mouth. “You need my help,” she felt the need to point out.

Jacen frowned, but there was an amused tinge to it somehow. “How do you see that?”

Kaeli smiled, amused despite herself. “You didn’t come to Count Dooku’s estate for no reason. While he hasn’t told me why yet, the fact of the matter is I think you need his help, and thus, by extension, you need mine.”

“You are aware of the connotations among our people of doing so, yes?” Jacen sighed, though there was something already resigned to his voice.

“Among those who spar repeatedly,” Kaeli crossed her arms and then decided to ignore any of Jacen’s other protests as she stripped off her black top, letting it fall to the side even as she stared challengingly at him.

Jacen regarded her with a strange expression she couldn’t interpret before he reached to his waist and untied his white flowing trousers from around his waist, revealing well-defined lower abdominal muscles and then black shorts and fully defined muscular yet pale legs before he stepped out of the cloth, tossed his pants to the side, before tossing his saber after it, the trousers folding in mid-air before his saber landed gently on top of the cloth.

Kaeli hesitated the briefest of moments before she stripped off her own pants, leaving her almost completely bare in her slim black underclothes, which, despite their plainness, felt oddly revealing to show to Jacen.

It had seemed like a good idea at first but now-

Even though she knew the point of this, at least academically, Echani communicated through body movement; stripping off clothing was supposed to let them understand each other better because then less movement could be hidden.

Still, she hadn’t been quite exposed in this way before anyone, well, ever.

To be so before a Jedi, even a Padawan, was strange, but since the meeting, the question had lingered in the back of her mind.

Why did Jacen Sol bother her so?

And the answer?

She spun into a kick, the Force flowing through her as she attempted to knock Jacen down with one blow to the side of his head.

Jacen caught it, not looking surprised at all, and similarly, Kaeli wasn’t surprised to divert his retaliatory punch.

Kaeli dropped her weight on Jacen from her still-held leg, going to wrap around his neck as she launched into a grapple, but her cheeks flushed red as she pressed her pubic mound into the side of his neck.

She had a moment to contemplate that new strange sensation before Jacen attempted to flip her with a roll of his shoulders onto the ground.

Kaeli was not so easily dissuaded and went to lash out at his side with her fists, as she dangled, only for Jacen to break her hold in a second, tapping lightly against her knee in a spot that made her leg seize and for her to go tumbling toward the ground.

She landed on her palms but was unprepared for Jacen’s leg sweeping out to knock away her support, leaving her a single instant to backflip away, soaring into the air lightly and coming down in the dust, her feet biting into the ring.

She realized she had unconsciously begun to smile; there was something exciting about sparring with Jacen. It was hard to name, sort of like being challenged in a way she hadn’t really been before. Dooku certainly had trained her, but his talent was in that fencing style of his saber.

She didn’t have a saber.

She kicked off the ground, the force enhancing her limbs as she collided with Jacen again. There it was again: a strange shift to his feet as they began to lock and block their limbs against each other, like he was attempting to incorporate something he had recently learned.

Yet still, when she was fighting him, she couldn’t see the seam.

A fist that became an open palm slammed into her stomach, sending her sliding back, and Kaeli released a surprised, hacking breath.

Jacen’s pale blue eyes were narrowed at her; his face was otherwise serene, but she could feel it in him, like a child who had a long-lost toy returned to them.

She pushed further, falling into her next motions.

A punch.

Who are you?

A negligent deflection, brushing her hand away like he didn’t even consider her a threat, his eyes going past her.

No one.

A knee to his side caused him to grunt.

Poodoo.

Grabbing her knee and moving to grapple, his arm meshed against her own pale skin, causing her breath to unexpectedly hitch.

It’s the truth.

She growled and drove a bladed hand into his arm, attempting to get him to let go.

No one’s no one.

He took her to the ground, and they began to struggle in the dirt, forgoing empowered punches that might have broken bones for merely grappling against each other again, attempting to jockey for position.

It reminded her of something, a river and pushing a young boy into the-

Jacen pinned both her hands above her head and stared down at her; ice-blue eyes melted into a warm ocean of amusement.

“Weren’t we fighting?” he asked dryly.

Unwilling, Kaeli felt her cheeks flush; somewhere, she had gotten lost in her head, and while her body was still trying to struggle, her mind had drifted for a moment, so it was ineffectual.

“I thought we were debating?” she responded, raising an eyebrow at him, challenging him further.

“Debate the heir of the house of Dooku?” Jacen chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not so brave.”

Kaeli, completely out of her own control, rolled her eyes. “How is it I’ve known you for all of two days and already find you insufferable?” she asked honestly.

“Jedi talent,” Jacen shrugged his shoulders.

The air stilled between them as they both acknowledged that they really weren’t fighting anymore, which meant that Kaeli was just pinned to the ground as the slightly younger teenage echani boy straddled her.

Kaeli was instantly glad she hadn’t been the one to win the fight, and also furiously ashamed of that fact; her cheeks began to burn.

“You can get off now,” she remarked as coolly as she could, raising an elegant white eyebrow at the boy.

Jacen looked confused, glanced down, seemed to take in the situation, then smiled wryly. “Right, maybe this is a little too acquainted, isn’t it?”

He rose to his feet gracefully and then backed up and offered her a hand.

Kaeli took it, not feeling quite as reluctant around him as before, allowing him to bring her to her feet.

“You weren’t very open with me,” she pointed out, crossing her arms, unable to shake the new small pit in her stomach.

Jacen’s lips twitched faintly downward. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But forgive me, I don’t think I can tell you what I’m thinking yet.”

Kaeli raised an eyebrow. “Dramatic, don’t you think?’ she said, keeping her voice as light as she could, not wanting her frustration to bleed into her voice.

Jacen shrugged.

Kaeli hesitated as an idea occurred to her. “A Competition- perhaps we can have a competition for this thought of yours?”

Kaeli frowned; for some reason, those words were almost painful for a reason she couldn’t identify.

Jacen looked befuddled, “I don’t think it was that-“

She didn’t know why she was suggesting it, but the Force was gnawing at her, and she had to know, so she interrupted him.

“I’ll bet you a favor.”

He obviously needed something from House Dooku, so he should bite-

Jacen frowned, and for a moment Kaeli thought he would shut her down as he opened his mouth, only for him to say, “What kind of competition?” he said heavily.

Instantly, Kaeli’s mind went to her skills; debating wouldn’t work, neither would hand-to-hand combat, blasters… her eyes unfocused for a moment before she realized her answers were sitting in her workshop on the Estate.

“Race me for it?” She crossed her arms across her stomach, ignoring the cool air brushing against her bare stomach as it reminded her of how warm he had been.

Jacen opened his mouth, then hesitated, his eyes losing focus for a moment before they snapped back to her; he somewhat looked like he had swallowed a quinine fruit whole.

“Fine,” he sighed heavily.

Kaeli grinned fiercely; it really was true: a Jedi and their Credits were soon parted.

-

I was regretting this already.

Dressed in my tunic, I looked at the speeder that Kaeli had offered me. A sleek grey vehicle, closer to a swoop bike than a true method of transportation.

The workshop was a scene of carefully organized disaster, though the space around the bikes was clear. While the grey bike she had offered me was certainly modified to an extent, the one she was carefully adjusting the fuel hose on was so far from its origin that I couldn’t guess as to what the original bike would have looked like.

It was also a single-seater, coated in a gleaming red paint, the front elongated to a narrow nozzle, coming back to a massive engine that had no business being on a bike that size.

I contemplated for a moment this bet I had taken up; reasonably speaking, I had no chance of beating my sis- Kaeli.

Yet I had agreed regardless because the Force had practically slapped me with the consequences otherwise.

How disagreeing to a bet resulted in a red lightsaber and ominous theme music, I didn’t even want to know.

I followed the sparks of light over the speeder, tightening a couple of parts and taking a moment to more securely attach a fuel regulator.

She was looking at me; I knew she was looking at me.

“Does it meet your satisfaction, Your Highness?” Kaeli drawled, and I looked up to see her settled atop her bike, lounging forward, a knee wrapped to her chest, amusement once more on her face.

She was rather free with her emotions; a part of me wondered if it had always been so, and that was one of the reasons the Jedi hadn’t taken her.

“It’s adequate,” I replied, my voice soft and almost toneless from the lack of emotion I allowed into it. My mind was now completely frozen as I slung my leg over what looked like a nerf leather saddle and then hit the ignition, causing the bike to hum to life.

Together we taxied out of the workshop, which was on one of the far ends of the estate, and then we were once more looking over the forest below, our bikes angled downward on the path.

“What are the rules?” I asked.

Kaeli startled, then glanced outward, her lips thinning in pink displeasure, before she jabbed a finger into the distance toward a grey rocky ridge that poked free of the forest.

“There,” she said, and then smirked, “Anything goes, but if you scratch either of these bikes, I’m siccing our lawyers on the Temple.”

I snorted despite myself, amused by her words, while I ignored the curiosity sent my way from Celeste, and something drier that filtered from Brianna, though it wasn’t as solid; she seemed to be engaged in-

“You ready?” Kaeli asked, her pale blue eyes narrowed at me.

I shrugged my shoulders as I gripped the handles of the speeder. “If you feel the need to prove yourself, then of course.”

Kaeli rolled her eyes, which was all I had a moment to see as her speeder accelerated from a stop to full speed in seconds, and she vanished over the ridge.

I kicked my own speeder into gear and let the force submerge me in its cool embrace, the engine between my legs roaring to life before I rocketed forward, the world becoming a blur.

Humans weren’t typically able to pod race at the higher levels unless they were at least mildly Force-sensitive, at least so went my theory.

Humans could only go so fast and still avoid obstacles because we were limited by our comparatively slow reflexes, thus making precognition- well, close to necessary.

I came over the ridge, rocketing towards the tree line, and my eyes found a pale blue trail through the trees.

I contemplated following it for a second- it would be so easy to rely on the Force in this instance.

For some unexplainable reason, I didn’t.

The Force splintered before my eyes, gold tracing an insane path through the trees, some gaps I wasn’t sure I could even make with myself and the bike intact.

I rolled with the speeder through my weight to the side as I shot under a tree trunk, before narrowly slipping by another tree, centimeters from a crash.

Something accelerated in the cold water of my mind well beneath the ice, but it was there.

I pushed the throttle further, and the engine roared beneath me as I ripped past the trees, slipping by each trunk by sometimes millimeters of clearance, my hands relaxed on the bars.

The gaps appeared heartbeats before I reached them, thin seams of light between trunks as thick as freighter hulls, and I let my bike fall into them like water finding the cracks in stone in a river. Branches whipped past close enough that I felt their wind against my cheek. A root rose out of the loam; I pulled back on the handles and lifted the nose with the barest of movements, the repulsors roared, and I flew into the air and then down, blowing dirt out from the sheer force of repulsion.

Ahead, I spotted Kaeli’s red bike flicker in and out of the green like a struck spark of fire. She flew like the opposite of me, choosing strange gaps and banking so hard her shoulder nearly brushed the ferns, cutting corners I wouldn’t have attempted with a lightsaber, let alone a speeder.

She flew kind of like Ani. Which really made me nervous for more than one reason.

Most of all, strangely, it meant there wasn’t the slightest chance of me beating her, and it probably wasn’t even going to be close.

Even as I gained on her in the straights, where my slightly lighter bike and the Force’s quiet nudges counted for more when you were trying to make the most minimal adjustments through the trees. I would lose almost everything I’d gained in the turns, where her engine roared and dragged her through angles that should have thrown her into the trees in a fiery ball of death.

I realized that I was smiling strangely enough.

By the third switchback, I was close enough to see the white of her hair streaming behind her, and she glanced back over her shoulder for the briefest of instances, to glare at me challengingly.

She was grinning.

The forest broke open onto a valley floor, the trees vanishing, and the river came up under us, wide and slow and silver in the morning light. Kaeli didn’t follow the bank. She dropped straight onto the water, the repulsors kicking up twin white wakes as she skimmed across its surface, and I followed, ignoring the splatter of water against my face.

The ridge was close now, grey stone shouldering up out of the trees on the far side. The river bent toward it in a long curve, safer to take than the grassy land that surrounded us, a tall purple grass rising up well past our heads.

Kaeli glanced back, and instinct made my gut drop as she pulled hard on her handles, accelerating further, hugging the edge of a curve even as the Force surged in my gut, there wasn’t a reason to-

A spur of rock jutting out over the water ahead where the bank turned, low and jagged but still high enough for clearance. I instantly saw what she’d do, go under it to cut the bend. The gap was there.

Then the Force fractured. A current under the surface, a standing wave where the river shallowed over stone, waiting to catch her repulsor field and kick the nose up into the rock.

Red paint. White hair. The water closing over-

The ice within me cracked.

I reached out.

The wave rose. Her nose lifted. And I held it down, a gentle, enormous pressure against the bike’s frame, the way you’d steady a youngling’s hand on a cup too full to carry. The red speeder shot under the spur with a hand’s breadth to spare, scraping nothing, and was gone.

My own bike curved wide around the bank, but I had lost time and distance; I rocketed up the flat side of the rock that had been our destination, some seconds behind her

She was already off her bike, standing on the rock with her arms crossed, her chest heaving, her white hair wild from the spray; her blue eyes narrowed at me.

She wasn’t grinning anymore; no, it was something cool and almost furious.

“You touched my bike,” she grunted.

I powered down the engine of my own bike.  “I didn’t scratch it.” I pointed out needlessly not truly wishing to have this conversation.

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes were narrowed, pale and furious and very, very familiar. “I had that line; I didn’t need your help.”

I inclined my head.

“I would have made it,” she continued.

I thought of the water, and the rock, and the way the future had looked in the half second before I reached, it was entirely possible she would have reacted in time, my future sight had just been a hair faster.

And I hadn’t been able to control my own action.

“Of course.”

She stared at me, and I felt her reach across the space between us in the Force, sharp and searching.

I didn’t react; I let her look, even felt some forgotten part of myself stir beneath the ice, but I did nothing; I remained inert.

“I won,” she said finally, quieter, looking away from me over the valley we had come through.

“You did.”

“Then you owe me.” She lifted her chin. It was a familiar gesture I’d had occasion to see in the mirror. “The thought. The one you wouldn’t tell me after the ring.”

I looked out over the valley, the forest rolling away toward the estate, the river glinting silver in the light of the world’s star where it bent around the stone.

It reminded me of another river.

“I was thinking,” I said, slowly searching for my words even as I said them, “that the Order made a mistake when it turned you away.”

 It was the truth, admittedly it was not the whole one.

Kaeli was quiet, and I could feel the frustration stirring in her.

“That’s it?” she said. “That’s what you wouldn’t tell me?”

“That’s what I can tell you,” because I didn’t know how to begin with the rest, or even if I should.

She studied my face for a long time. I let her. Then she huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh and turned back to her bike.

“Insufferable,” she muttered, swinging her leg over the saddle.

“You’ve mentioned.”

“It bears repeating.” She paused with her hand on the ignition and didn’t look at me, hesitating for the briefest of moments, then she shook her head and was gone over the ridge before I could say anything, leaving me standing on the ridge looking out over the valley by myself.

It wasn’t quite cowardice, but it was something close.

-

Brianna was on edge; normally she’d like to blame that on the Jedi, and in this case perhaps that wasn’t fair.

Being on the run from your family, which was actually a highly trained mercenary group, was always a pretty dangerous proposition, but that wasn’t what was dragging at her mind.

Some older instinct was poking at her, warning her, the one she always trusted. Was there such a thing as going too smoothly?

Certainly the Jedi Master didn’t seem concerned as she fiddled with the study’s Star Map; her entire countenance was that absurd Jedi calm that would permeate the room with its soporific effect.

Yet that wasn’t what was bothering her; there was just a general bad feeling that permeated her, a worry without a name.

“You’re worried,” Celeste remarked, looking at her with her placid, calm expression, raising an elegant black eyebrow. “What has you so concerned?”

Brianna smiled a smile that was all teeth. “Nothing that would worry a Jedi Master,” she replied sharply.

Celeste blinked and then smiled amusedly. “I can see why Jacen likes you,” she replied obliquely.

Brianna startled her spine, straightening even as her lips pulled up in a sneer. “I don’t care what your Padawan thinks; I’m here, looking after my own interest, which currently happens to coincide with yours.”

Celeste nodded and then rotated the holographic star maps with a gesture of her fingers.

“You’re a lot of bark and frustration for one person,” Celeste remarked. “Do you feel perhaps that you owe us?”

“I don’t owe either of you anything,” Brianna spat back.

Celeste shook her head. “Of course not,” she hummed, “I am merely concerned that you might be under the misapprehension that you do.”

Brianna didn’t want to be having this conversation, but leaving at this point would be as good as admitting defeat.

“Don’t concern yourself, Jedi. I’m here because it seems to be the safest spot in the galaxy for me, nothing more, nothing less.”

Celeste laughed, a small sparkling thing, and her lips turned up in amusement. “Yes, that’s exactly what I would call our current work.”

Brianna growled but didn’t take the bait; instead, she decided to push on what exactly the Jedi Master had been doing for hours. “So what’s got you so focused?”

Celeste looked towards her, something briefly confused flicking through her brown eyes, which looked amber in the blue light of the holograph. “I’m tracking something rather strange,” Celeste said quietly. “If you consider the grand scale of the universe, catastrophes occur almost daily on planets inhabited by Republic citizens; therefore, the reports of such aren’t necessarily something to be concerned with.”

Brianna, despite herself, nodded along with the Jedi master’s words. “So what’s got your motivator jammed?” she asked.

Celeste hummed and stroked back her hair for a moment, seemingly thinking of how she would respond or perhaps just pausing for dramatic effect, like Jedi seemed to like to do. “Currently, I’m tracking a pattern of impressive mitigation: a disaster will occur, be reported, but the effects are never as bad comparatively as one might normally expect; the influence spreads in a narrow path between star systems, but if I were to be generous the pace follows a ship using hyperspace to travel between systems on the Outer Rim.”

That must have made sense to a Jedi, but Brianna was still confused. “So, what? Things are a little less bad on some planets, and you think you see a pattern?”

“The path is headed towards us,” Celeste said, shrugging. “In a remarkably direct line, it’s a change that occurred months ago.”

“So you think a disaster is going to occur here?” Brianna asked.

Celeste hummed, seemingly considering, “Perhaps it might fit the pattern, but the Force tells me something larger is at work.”

“Am I interrupting?” Dooku’s slow, cultured voice drawled out as he stepped into the room, his arms crossed behind his back, his spine stiffened as he looked toward them gravely.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Of course not, Master Dooku,” she responded, smiling, a calm, measured thing.

Brianna noted the Count stiffened almost imperceptibly at the address.

“As it happens, I received a holo call from Duchess Illa Merrow; there seems to be some concern about a shipping transport that’s missed its scheduled check-in some thirty minutes ago.”

Celeste didn’t look concerned in the slightest. “I assume this is a test, then, considering my Padawan’s words?”

Dooku dipped his head. “I, of course, believe the situation is fully real; it is not so uncommon for a shipping lane to be attacked here in the Outer Rim, but I believe that Merrow is deciding to not use her militia out of a desire for something- how would you describe it, ‘a proof of concept,’ perhaps?”

“I see,” Celeste replied. “Then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt as a gesture of good faith.”

Brianna rolled her eyes; Jedi really did just seem not to take anything seriously- of course, even her thinking that was in the context that Duchess Illa Merrow wasn’t taking the situation any more seriously.

Celeste looked to Brianna for a moment; her amber-brown eyes darkened with thought as she stood there with her arms crossed behind her back. It was like looking at a holovid of one of the Echani Generals from the histories Brianna had been forced to consume.

Brianna didn’t need to look towards the hall as she felt Jacen step into the room, soft footfalls clicking against the marble stone. “Masters,” he said quietly.

Celeste smiled, and Brianna was struck for a moment by the fact that the smile was decidedly not Jedi-like- too much warmth, and rather a small amount of shyness that she didn’t think she had ever seen on the older woman’s face.

She knew something was off between them, could feel it at points, but seeing it there- her eyes flicked to Dooku’s face, who seemingly remained unperturbed.

“If you are to be hunting pirates,” Dooku drawled, “I believe I have some bait; typically we negotiate for the release of our crews. I would imagine the pirates are still in the area taking the cargo; sending a ship to negotiate for our crews' release shouldn’t be suspicious.”

Brianna was a bit taken aback by how blasé Dooku was.

“They won’t suspect a trap?” Brianna couldn’t help but ask, frowning at the older man.

“Of course they will, but they won’t be suspecting a Jedi,” Dooku said, smiling placidly.

Why did she have a horrible feeling this would involve her somehow?

-

Brianna sat in the cockpit of the shuttle, wondering how exactly Jacen had talked her into this. They were coasting toward the hyperlane entrance, navigating near a pair of asteroids that floated heavily in the space around them, slowly rotating.

The autopilot knew enough to keep its distance, but it was those very same asteroids that held her attention right now.

The coordinates for the shipping transport blinked idly on the panel next to her, with soft chimes lighting up the display in blue holographic light.

They were approaching the last known point, but she didn’t see anything yet, and Jacen didn’t look particularly concerned as he adjusted the holomap on the console of the system.

Then two dots lit up the screen as what looked like a small frigate, many times the size of their own shuttle, came into view, with a small freighter pinned underneath it.

A chime indicated a hail, and Brianna glanced at Jacen, who smiled amusedly and nodded.

Brianna opened the channel.

“Serenno System Shuttle registered as Opal Wren, identify yourself and your contents,” a sharp feminine voice barked over the comm.

Brianna glanced at Jacen, who shrugged, and she rolled her eyes before hitting the console and replying, “This is Opal Wren; we don’t want any trouble. We’re from House Dooku and are simply here to retrieve the crew of the Shipping Transport you just captured. Identifier: Long Shot.”

There was a brief pause, and Brianna could practically feel the confusion on the other end; letting the cargo go in exchange for the crew wasn’t an option any normal interstellar corporation would choose.

“So we heard,” the same feminine voice replied, “It’s not that we don’t trust you-“ something indignant from another sentient came over the speaker before it shut off, “but we don’t trust you. Cut your engines, and we’ll approach for the handoff. If any fighters or frigates show up, we’re gone, and your crew is too.”

Brianna rolled her eyes; she could tell the pirate captain really did think she could dictate terms right now. The very fact that she had even attempted to return the crew spoke well of her, for a pirate at least, but if Brianna had to guess just from this offer, this Pirate crew was way out of their depth and was relying on the fact that Serenno’s own patrol ships weren’t likely to be able to catch them if they ran.

The ship they had chosen had nothing but a light turbolaser and shields, so on that front there was nothing to worry about.

The frigate moved in toward them, orienting so their docking hatches slowly aligned and then sealed against each other.

Brianna looked at Jacen. “If this is the thing that gets me killed-“ she began, and Jacen turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

Brianna trailed off, then shook her head. “It's just better not,” she grumbled, tightening the belt that held her blaster strapped around her waist.

“She isn’t going to hand them over,” Jacen said quietly beside her, leaning back in the co-pilot's chair, a tired edge to him, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze fixed on something well past the viewport that Brianna was fairly certain had nothing to do with the frigate at all.

“I know,” Brianna replied, not bothering to look at him.

She felt a moment of curiosity come from him, traversing the strange thing between them.

Brianna decided to elaborate.

“She asked what we were carrying before she asked who we were,” Brianna said, rolling her eyes because it was so obvious it was almost insulting. “Nobody cares about the cargo on a ship that’s only here to pick people up, unless they’re wondering whether the ship’s also worth keeping.”

She glanced down at the engine controls, her fingers drifting over them without quite touching, remembering for some reason some of her Father’s old instructions on negotiations like this.

Something shifted in Jacen’s expression, a small, almost fond quirk at the corner of his mouth that she very deliberately ignored because of how it made her feel.

“She’ll launch fighters the moment our engines go cold,” he said. “Two of them. They’ll disable our drive with ion pulses, and then she’ll take both ships and keep both crews.”

“And if I don’t cut the engines?”

“Then she’ll launch them anyway,” Jacen replied, cheerfully looking out the viewport, almost academically interested, “only a little sooner.”

Brianna considered that for a long moment, considered the asteroids drifting heavily off their starboard side, the frigate looming larger in the viewport with the Long Shot pinned beneath it like a fish in a talon, and the absurdly calm Jedi sitting next to her as though they were discussing the weather generator forecast on Coruscant.

“You knew they weren’t going to negotiate,” she accused, but her voice lacked the heat she wanted to put into it.

“Pirates out on the Rim have long learned that negotiations don’t end in their favor; they’re probably double-checking no other ships are out this far before they close in.”

“You could have told me,” Brianna snapped, then, because that had come out more honestly than she meant it to, she hit the comm before he could respond. “Long Shot’s captors, this is Opal Wren. We’re cutting our engines now.”

Jacen laughed.

She rolled the shuttle hard to port and opened the throttle all the way, and the bulky shuttle groaned like an old bantha as it lurched forward, just as two narrow shapes dropped out of the frigate’s belly, old Z-95 Headhunters by the look of them, their engines flaring bright orange against the dark of space.

The first bolts went wide, splashing harmlessly across the rock of the nearer asteroid as she dove the Opal Wren downward, skimming an asteroid, and she felt rather than heard Jacen settle back into his seat, felt that strange stillness of his spread outward through the bond until it was almost like a hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

He didn’t say a word, but she felt the instinct through him.

She went left without thinking, and a pair of bolts screamed through the space they had been in a heartbeat before, close enough that the cockpit lit up red.

Another impression.

She dropped the nose, and the shuttle shuddered as it slid beneath a tumbling chunk of stone the size of a small house, and behind them one of the Headhunters pulled up sharply to avoid it, losing ground.

It was, she decided, the single most terrifying piece of flying she had ever done, mostly because it wasn’t really her doing it; it was entirely by feeling, no plan, no thought, every twitch of the yoke was hers, but the direction was his, and it flowed through the bond into her hands so cleanly that she stopped being able to tell the difference after the first few seconds.

The Opal Wren shuddered with every movement, trying to indicate it wasn't built for this. It was a shuttle designed for civilian transport, and it complained now, loudly, every strut and seam groaning in protest as she threw it through gaps that should have been far too narrow for something its size, trusting Jacen’s instinct and her hands to do the same.

She shot toward the surface of another asteroid and held the line, and held, and held, the asteroid filling the viewport until she could see the pits and scars of its surface, and then at the very last instant the bond tugged, and she pulled up, the shuttle’s belly scraping close enough to the rock that she heard something shriek along the hull. Behind them, the closer Headhunter, which had been following her line a little too eagerly, searching for the kill, did not pull up in time.

It clipped the stone with one wing and spun away into the dark, before something sparked, and then the ship exploded in a ball of flames.

“Where’s the other one?” Brianna frowned.

“Going home,” Jacen said, and indeed the second Headhunter had broken off, banking hard back toward the frigate, its pilot evidently having seen enough of his partner’s fate to decide that he preferred the safety of the frigate.

Brianna let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and turned the Opal Wren out of the field, and that's when she saw the frigate’s engines flare.

It was running.

It was running with the Long Shot still clamped to its belly, and she could see the bulky shipping transport swaying beneath it, dragged along like an afterthought, and somewhere inside that transport were eleven people who had been promised to House Dooku and were now about to be taken into hyperspace and sold off somewhere on Nar Shaddaa for whatever price the market would bear.

“Kriff,” she swore. “Kriff, kriff, she’s going to jump with them-”

“No,” Jacen said quietly, “she isn’t.”

She looked at him and stopped, staring at him in something like shock.

His eyes were open now, and they were not looking at the frigate, not exactly; they were looking at something on the frigate, or through it, and they had gone pale and bright in a way that made her think of the ice on the river in that vision he had shown her.

A frozen surface with all that water moving underneath, beginning to rush as spring thawed the river fully. Through the bond she felt it, a pressure so vast and cold that she nearly flinched away, and she had the strangest impression, without quite seeing it, of cracks; a thousand fine blue lines spreading across the frigate’s hull like frost on a viewport, every weakness and stress and fault in the old ship laid bare, and all of them running back toward one single bright point where the clamps held the Long Shot to the frigate’s belly.

Jacen raised one hand, very slowly, and closed it.

There was no sound, of course, not in space; there was only a brief flash of blue-white light where the clamp coupling had been, and then the Long Shot simply fell away from the frigate, tumbling free and slow and entirely intact, while the frigate lurched violently to one side, its engines stuttering as some cascade of failures she didn’t understand rippled through its systems.

The frigate listed through space, lights flickering irregularly about the ship.

Beside her, Jacen let out a breath, slow and careful, and when she looked over at him, there was a thin line of blood running from his nose.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, rather more sharply than she had meant to, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“It was a long way,” he replied, wiping at it with the back of his hand, and smiled at her like it didn’t matter in the slightest. “Get the Long Shot; there are only two pirates aboard, and they’ve decided to brace themselves at the airlock. I’ll take the frigate.”

“You’ll take the frigate,” she repeated flatly. “Alone?” How would he even get there?

“Our mission was the crew,” he pointed out, “and you’re the one who can fly.”

She wanted very badly to argue, but he was right, and they both knew he was right, and so she brought the Opal Wren in alongside the drifting transport, nudging at the yoke as Jacen slipped on and sealed his flight suit.

When the magnetic clamps thudded home and the airlock cycled, she watched him walk to the other airlock, which she had to note was not attached to anything, dressed in an EVA suit, give her a jaunty two-finger wave, step through, and vanish as the durasteel shut behind him.

Kriffing Jedi.

She turned to her own airlock and heard it hiss open; she dove through, grabbing the pirate she knew had been standing there and snapping his neck with a twitch of her arm.

She drew his blaster in the next breath and fired it into his friend, who had just been about to raise his own blaster.

She went to find the crew first, walking the somewhat fading grey hallways of the ship; she found them sealed in the transport’s forward hold, eleven frightened faces dressed in dark grey with House Dooku’s sigil on their shoulders.

They stared at her mutely for a moment, and an older woman with a nasty cut along her hairline spoke up, her voice low and rough, “I didn’t expect such a quick rescue.”

There was something warm underneath, surprise, but a feeling of relief pouring out of her and the rest of her crew, who were now beginning to straighten up as they realized their nightmare was over.

“You can thank House Dooku.” Brianna shrugged and was surprised by how gently the words came out of her mouth regardless; she turned, walking back to the Opal Wren’s cockpit.

With a couple of taps on the console, she tapped into the frigate’s shipwide comm; it was open network, broadcasting on an unsecured channel.

She heard the first pirate shout.

“-Someone at the airlock-“

“Who-“

A snap hiss and then familiar hum of a lightsaber flickered on.

“Jedi-!”

A storm of blaster shots echoed out over the comms, wild and panicked, and there was shouting in Huttese and Basic, and there was the hum and crack of bolts being deflected.

Cries of panic.

Screams.

A sizzle as a blade made its way through the static of the comms.

“He’s in the cargo bay-”

“He’s already through the cargo bay, Varn’s team just, they couldn’t do any-“

“He’s on deck two, he’s heading for the lift-”

“Somebody shoot him!”

“We are shooting him!”

Through the bond, she could feel him; he wasn’t fighting, not really, not the way she would consider someone would fight. He was simply walking, unhurried, as calm and steady as if he were strolling through Count Dooku’s gardens, and every bolt that came at him went somewhere else in his gleaming field of pale blue.

Into the deck in a cascade of sparks, seared in carbon into the bulkheads or directly back into the weapon that had fired it, or into a pirate desperately trying to fire down the hallway in a storm of laser red blaster fire.

He cut a single narrow path through the ship and by the time he reached the lift she could hear it in their voices over the comm; they weren’t trying to stop him anymore. They were trying to get out of his way.

“Captain,” someone said, and that voice wasn’t panicked anymore, just very tired, “I think he’s coming to talk to you.”

There was a long pause.

“...I see,” the captain said softly.

Brianna heard the bridge doors open, faintly, and then she heard Jacen’s voice over the comm for the first time, soft and polite and even, the same voice he had used in front of the Council of Dukes.

“Captain,” he said. “I think we should talk.”

“Who the kriff are you?” the captain demanded, though there was very little heat left in it.

“A Jedi,” Jacen replied, “which I think has been established at this point. And I’m very interested in who is paying you.”