Before the Saga How It Ends | Epic | Kit'verse OCs

Master Jinn - "Master Zahalin commanded Kithera to kill her, and Kithera...was a very obedient Padawan."
~~Jane Jinn, Ultra Stressed Jedi Students, March 4th, 2004

Jedi Padawan Kithera Rinani would follow her Master into anything. She never expected to be betrayed and abandoned, stranded on a planet without the Force, at the mercy of a murderous court, and with no-way home. She never could have predicted that she would end up in a field, on that last, fateful day, surrounded by butterflies, killing the one person she admired most in the universe.

***
TItle: How It Ends
Author: Kit'
Character: Kithera Rinani, Namia Zahalin, Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn,
Timeframe: Pre-TPM to the Clone Wars
Genre: Angst, Drama, Adventure, Angst, Hurt (no comfort), More Angst, Major Character Death

Concrit welcome, comments adored!

Spoiler: Author's note

This story has been a long time coming. There was an original story of how Kithera killed her Master in the original USJS which you'll find if you click the link. There is are other references in the USJS series that are a lot lighter, and, I dare say, less in keeping with the character of Kithera and Namia as they stand now. This actual story is a long time coming in that I also started writing it in October of 2020 intending it to be short and sweet. However, as of writing this author's note, it's 150 000+ words and still unfinished. I figure at a chapter a week, I'm giving myself almost another year to finish the final five chapters because I'm not abandoning this story before it is done. It's been 4 years in the writing and 24 years in the thinking, so I'm not going to leave it untold.

Kithera has been around as a character my entire adult life. She's grown a lot from the annoying, and predominantly self-insert that she was in USJS to a still somewhat annoying, but a far better fleshed out and thought through character that I hope (desperately) that she is now.

I appreciate all the help I've had along the way. I very much appreciate the authors who have taken her, written her, added to her character and background and run with my idea of a hyperactive Jedi who doesn't quite fit in with the serene sanctuary of the Temple. Also a thank you to the readers who have embraced her over the years, particularly at the beginning when she was oh, so very annoying and very spoilt. Hopefully she has grown up.

 

Head up little Kit. Don’t let them see how much you hurt. Never show them that. Look them in the eyes and remember to breathe before you begin.

Last words of Jedi Master Namia Zahalin


Chapter 1

“Where is the ungrateful, impudent little whelp.” Mace Windu stormed down the walkway towards the landing pad.

Ahead of him he could see Leona carrying supplies as she headed in the same direction.

The news had only come in half an hour ago, that the ship had landed carrying padawan Kithera Rinani and twenty refugees from Sami'Ish-te and this was the first chance he’d had to get away from the council meeting and find her.

Mace tried to tamp down on the anger that he could feel bubbling inside him. A Jedi should not feel anger or hate. He should be rejoicing that Kithera had survived and rescued people, not fuming that she had left her Master behind on such a pitiful planet.

Leona must have heard his furious footsteps behind her, because she paused in her walk to let him catch up.

“You need to let go of your anger Mace, it doesn’t become you,” the little healer warned. Her arms were loaded with medical supplies and she peered at him over the top of the bundle.

“I just want explanations,” he replied trying to keep his voice level, “I want to know what happened to Namia, I want to know how it all went wrong.” Inside his head he added, and I want someone to pay for it.

The two Jedi rounded the corner and stepped out onto the landing platform. Ahead of them lay a small starship that looked like it was held together with tape and rust. Mace briefly wondered how something so un-aerodynamic flew at all. From out of the belly of the beast people were emerging, blinking in the strong Coruscant light.

There was a cluster of Healers standing nearby, as well as a few Masters and Knights helping triage and assess people as they stepped onto the platform. As he pushed his way into the crowd, a hand reached out and grabbed his elbow. Mace tried to shake it off but it gripped tighter and a voice rumbled close to his ear.

“This is not the time nor the place Windu. I don’t think you should be up here at all.” Mace turned to see Qui-Gon looking at him, the tall Jedi Master had a similar look of concern to the one that he had seen on Leona’s face only a minute earlier.

“I’m fine Qui-Gon. I just want to hear what happened from her.” His lips curled around the last word. It had been a mistake when Namia had taken Rinani on as her padawan. Everyone could see that the child was not cut out to be a Jedi. She might have been strong in the Force, but her lack of discipline, lack of being able to be still for any length of time, lack of impulse control meant that she was never going to be a proper Jedi. He’d told Namia that on many occasions, but she’d just smiled at him and told him that Jedi came in all shapes and sizes.

This was the result. The padawan had caused, and the Force told him this was true, the loss of the Master.

“And what kind of result do you want?” Qui-Gon asked quietly, letting Mace brush his hand off, “she will go before the council and give her report, but I don’t think the landing pad is the best place to start. Not in front of the people she just saved.” He waved an expansive hand at the sorry gathering of people in front of them. For the first-time, Mace focused on the little huddles of refugees. Most were elderly or young women grasping the hands of silent children. There were no able-bodied men amongst them and the survivors sported a range of physical injuries and a haunted look in their eyes.

“Knight Narindi was talking to the Captain,” Qui-Gon said, motioning towards the well-built man who was leaning against the side of the ship and watching the proceedings carefully. Mace frowned, even though he couldn’t see his face properly at this distance, there was something familiar about the way that he stood. “Apparently, he knew Namia. He was only supposed to pick her and Kit up, but when he arrived the Jedi wouldn’t let him leave unless he took the refugees too.”

“So why isn’t Namia here?” Mace asked, his eyes narrowing, “and where is that damn girl?”

Qui-Gon continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “The Captain said that Kit barely slept the entire time back to Coruscant. Just made sure the refugees were safe. Apparently, the Sami'Ish-te had discussions on what they would do when she collapsed but she never did.

“They seem…” he paused and raised an eyebrow, “a bit in awe of her.”

Mace rounded on him, eyes blazing. He hadn’t come here to hear a lecture let alone a set of poor excuses about how perfect Rinani was and how all of this wasn’t her fault. He needed to know what she had done to her Master.

“And Namia? I don’t care about Rinani, Jinn. Did this captain tell you?”

Qui-Gon frowned and put his hands on Mace’s shoulders. “You already know where she is Mace,” he said softly, “surely you can feel it in the Force.”

Mace frowned, confused at what his friend was implying. Qui-Gon gave him a soft, sad smile and squeezed his shoulders gently.

“But what happened to Namia?” Mace asked. He had felt the disturbance in the Force but he had to believe that Namia was still out there, it was the only thing keeping him going. Rinani had the answers and she would answer to him. “Did Knight Narindi manage to find out at least that? Does he know what happened?”

Qui-Gon shrugged and pointed to the ship. Mace could see the name of the ship, The Lady scrawled on the side in faded paint. “He said you’d have to ask her.”

Mace turned again to see Kithera emerging from the ship. Even though her face was buried deep in the shadows of her hood, there was no mistaking who it could be. She held a baby on one hip as she walked unsteadily down the gangplank beside a rather frail pair of elderly women who were using each other for support. Mace saw the young woman say something and the old woman looked at her and smiled before patting her arm. The rage flared again. How dare she behave so normally?

He took a step forward but found his way blocked by Leona. The Healer wasn’t carrying her bundle of supplies anymore, but was instead watching Kithera with interest as the girl clutched the baby tightly. He tried to side step her to go past, but the healer shuffled across without even looking at him until she was blocking his path.

Leona motioned and two young apprentice healers swooped in to help the elderly pair down the ramp. Leona glanced over her shoulder at Mace and shook her head slightly as if warning him to stay away.

He glowered at her in return, his hands bunching into fists as he fought the urge to run to the child in front of him and shake her until she admitted what she had done.

Leona slipped forward and began to converse with Kithera in quiet, hushed tones. She put her hands out to take the baby but it fussed and squawked at the sight of a stranger and Kithera simply clung tighter to it, shushing it gently.

Mace glared at both of them. How dare she act as if nothing had happened when Namia was...How dare she even breathe when her Master was gone?

Qui-Gon’s hand grasped his shoulder again and Mace stiffened. Leona turned and led Kithera towards the exit. As they went to walk past the two Masters, Mace stepped sideways, blocking their path.

“I’m going to take Kithera down to the Healer’s Ward.” Leona informed them. The young woman slipped her hood back and Mace heard Qui-Gon draw a sharp breath. Kithera looked up at them. Her face, normally thin, was tighter now, the skin stretched across her cheeks and jaw. She was preternaturally pale and dark rings bruised the underside of each eye. Above her left ear, a blaster bolt had burnt the hair from one side of her head. Her robes were- Mace frowned. They were not the normal robes of a Jedi, but an awkward, torn facsimile as if drawn from a child's holovid. The dangling fabric was splattered with mud and the red brown of what could only be blood. It wasn’t until she looked up at them that Mace noticed her eyes. Once so full of life, they were now flat emotionless disks. It was like the planet had sucked the very soul from her. Kithera looked past him and then back at Leona, never actually meeting their gaze. Her voice, when it came, was as flat and as devoid of life as her eyes were.

“I can’t leave the Ish-te. I need to make sure they are all safe. I promised my Master. I need to make sure they are looked after.”

“We have healers for that.” Leona said softly, “They’ve got this. How about you come with me.” She put one hand out towards Kithera, but the girl stood unmoving.

“But I told the captain that I’d help him fix his ship. He took on too many people and the ship couldn’t handle the weight. I said I’d help him fix it.”

“It’s alright Kit, I’ll talk to the temple mechanics. They will do it,” Qui-Gon said gently. “How about you give me the baby and go with Leona. We’ll make sure all of it is taken care of.”

Mace felt the anger bubbling forth again. How could Leona and Qui-Gon be so calm and so relaxed while talking with her? She was just trying to avoid her responsibilities and the council by making excuses to do things that she would, as always, never follow through with. He frowned and his fists tightened even further. Why weren’t they getting answers about Namia? Why weren’t they forcing her to tell the truth about what she had done?

“What about Namia?” he blurted out, anger ringing in every word. Leona glared at him.

“This is Nini” Kithera ignored the question as if Mace had never spoken and looked down at the little baby in her arms. “She was the reason we went. There had been reports of a Force sensitive child, so we went to find her.”

“What about Namia?” Windu hissed, not caring anymore about the glares of Leona and Jinn.

“She’s a really lovely baby and she is very Force Sensitive,” Kithera said looking down at the little one, her voice as emotionless as if she was describing the weather on an overcast day. “Would you like to hold her?” She held the baby up and Mace noticed that the girl’s lightsaber hand was a black and purple mess, each finger bent and nobbled as if it had been repeatedly broken. If it hurt she didn’t seem to notice or care.

Leona was starting to look more worried. Qui-Gon leant down and scooped the baby from her hands. The older Jedi frowned as he lifted the baby and saw a dark red wet patch on its leggings.

“She’s hurt," he said worriedly. Kithera looked up at Nini and then ran her good hand across her hip where the baby had been resting. Her fingers came up red and she stared at her hand seemingly mesmerised.

“I don’t think it’s her. I think it’s me. I got hurt.” She turned and looked at Leona. “I tried to fix it but I wasn’t very good. I mustn’t have been listening in class. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder next time.” Kithera swayed on her feet. Mace felt his anger rising again. She was manipulating them all and they couldn’t see it. Namia was never coming back and it was all her fault.

“That’s it. We are going to the Healer’s ward right now. I’ll take Nini too for a check-up.” Leona snapped. She reached and took the baby from Qui-Gon and then tilted her head towards where the hover chairs were being placed by a group of young apprentices. Qui-Gon nodded and headed towards them, leaving Mace almost alone with Kithera. This was it. This was his only chance to get at the truth. To find out what it was that she had done.

“What happened to Namia?” he asked, leaning forward to take Kithera by the shoulders.

“This is not the time Mace,” Leona snapped, reaching out with her free hand, “restrain yourself.”

He ignored her, instead staring into Kithera’s emotionless eyes as if he could get some kernel of truth from them. When she didn’t respond, he shook her.

He heard Leona protest more loudly and from the corner of his eyes saw Qui-Gon turn in alarm. Kithera wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t meet his gaze, just stared at his chest with her dull, soulless eyes.

Mace felt something inside him snap. This wasn’t what he had wanted. He didn’t want to be manipulated by her. He wanted the truth.

“Where is Namia?” He heard his voice getting louder but it was like he was very far away, watching another version of himself shake Kithera’s unresisting body. He heard the baby begin to cry, its plaintive wail echoing across the landing pad. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jedi running towards them, and felt Qui-Gon’s hands try to pry him loose from his grip on Rinani’s tiny, unresisting body. This padawan, this girl, this impudent child, was the reason that he would never see Namia again.

“What did you do?” He heard himself shout as he shook her. “What did you do to her? Tell me! Where is your Master?”

She said nothing. She wouldn't even meet his gaze. Didn't even have the grace, or dignity to confess what she had done. To admit to the damage she had caused.

Anger welled up, looking for any way to escape.

He slapped her. Some part of him protested that now he had gone too far but he didn’t care. She was responsible for Namia’s death and she should pay the price. Beneath his hands, he felt Kithera whimper. When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears. They were no longer the emotionless, soulless eyes of before. Now they were filled with pain and loss that mirrored the pain and loss in his own soul.

“I’m sorry Master Windu, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…one of the last things she said was that she loves you…Don’t be angry…I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…” she sobbed. Mace felt the Force swirl and looked up to see that he was surrounded by knights and padawans, their bodies tensed as if ready for a fight. In the distance, he could see the shocked looks of the refugees and healers and the angry, strangely familiar face of the ship’s captain.

“What did you do?” The words were a low growl.

“She’s dead. I’m so sorry. She’s dead. She asked me…I tried to save her. I really tried but she asked me. She asked me but I didn’t want to. I would have saved her. I would have done anything...but she asked.” She sobbed: a noise that sounded like her soul was tearing in two. “She asked and I had to. There was no choice. I killed her. I killed my Master.”

Each word ripped itself from her throat and stabbed him through the heart. The Jedi around him were a frozen tableau. His fingers sprung away from their grip on Kithera’s shoulders as if of their own accord. She collapsed onto the ground sobbing. Mace looked down at Rinani’s crumpled body on the tarmac. As the red welt from his hand flared across her cheek, he had the sudden sensation that he’d just returned to his body. His heart was beating in his ears. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Namia was dead. He shook his head in terrified disgust and turned, pushing through the crowd and trying to do anything but sprint from the tarmac. Behind him the spell broke. He could hear Qui-Gon calling his name, a babble of concerned voices, the sobs of Rinani, the wail of the baby and the words over and over again in his head like a broken holovid.

“I didn’t mean to…she loves you…She is dead”

“She is dead.”

“…is dead.”

“…dead.”

“I killed her.”

He ran.

 

And so it's starting, your touching story about Kithera loosing her master and becoming ....
Mace and his rude behaviour and Qui-Gon trying to calm him.
Healer Leona and her assistants are nice, seeing who is hurt and needs care.

 

Thanks @earlybird-obi-wan for the lovely comments. This one is definitely not an AU, although then again there are so many different versions and timelines around it's kind of hard to state that definitively. I'm going to call this the Scoundrels Timeline as it's the one which ends with the Family as most recently written about. The Shadow one (ooo! I'm literally just coming up with names of timelines on the fly, so bear with me) diverges at the very end of this mammoth 150 000+ word story... It might take a while to get there...

As always, Healer Leona is used with permission from @Healer_Leona, for whom I have many thanks for the gracious use of her amazing character and for over twenty years (!) of friendship.

***

Chapter 2

“What are you thinking, Leona?” Qui-Gon was standing in the doorway to the Healer’s lounge with two cups of caff. Leona noticed that they weren’t the usual cups from the temple refectory, but from the little shop that had opened just around the corner.

“You went out of the temple for that caff, Qui-Gon. You must want something.” She closed the door to Kithera’s room and keyed in the code. There was a click and a little red light came on above the door. She smiled tiredly and headed towards him. “If you came to see padawan Rinani then you’re fresh out of luck. I’m not letting anyone in until she’s recovered. Not even council members.” She sat down and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“I don’t need to see her.” Qui-Gon sat down opposite her and pushed the steaming caff across the table. “I wanted to see what you think.”

“What do I think about what Qui-Gon? Is Kit capable of killing her Master in cold blood? No. The girl I watched grow up isn’t likely to murder her Master.”

“But you locked the door.”

Leona looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“For all of our great qualities, this temple breeds gossip. I want my patient to heal in peace.” The word was a pointed warning. Leona watched the other Master sigh and then fiddle with his cup, turning it in lazy circles on the table top.

“Then what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know Qui, I really don’t. I can tell you what An-Paj and I fixed today, but it won’t give you the answers you want about Namia.” She paused and gave him a pointed look. “However, the only way that I’ll tell you is if you promise me that you won’t disclose anything, not even to Mace. If I ever find out you’ve talked, I will find a way of making sure those rather incriminating holos Namia took, find their way into the hands of every adult in the temple.”

“You wouldn’t. You don’t have a copy.” Leona raised an eyebrow and waited in silence; after a moment Qui-gon subsided. He got up and slid the door closed to the Healer’s lounge. “Fine. I promise I won’t say anything.”

“A host of bruises…Three fractured ribs, one mostly healed puncture wound to the upper chest, some smaller cuts including a long one, mostly healed, on her shoulder. Multiple abrasions like the ones I normally see from hand-to-hand fights.” Leona paused frowning and shook her head slightly as if considering something and then rejecting it. “There’s also the blaster burn that you saw on her head and a long narrow slice down her abdomen, that’s the one that was still oozing on the flight pad.” Another pause and another frown. “Luckily it missed any organs or she would be in a far more serious condition. There’s also-” Leona stopped and swallowed heavily. “There are lash marks across her back. Partially healed from what I think was probably bacta spray.”

“She was beaten?” Qui-gon asked. Leona said nothing, just nodded and then wiped the corner of one eye with the palm of her hand. “The worst are the two broken fingers. Repeatedly broken by the looks of things. That injury needed a specialist medic from the Coruscant Hospital to fix as it was out of either An-Paj’s or my league.”

“Lightsaber burns?” Qui-Gon asked and Leona sighed in annoyance. Half the Temple was on various fishing expeditions after what had happened on the landing pads today, but she had thought her old friend was past such gossip.

“Are you going with they fought and Kithera killed her?” Leona saw Qui-Gon’s normally calm face tense. She grimaced, her mouth twitching in annoyance. “She’s not Xanatos, Qui. Don’t compare them. Kithera isn’t going to have betrayed Namia. I’ve rarely seen someone who was so loyal to their master.”

There was a long pause as Leona reached across the table and squeezed Qui-Gon’s hand. She knew how much Xanatos’ betrayal had hurt him. She knew Kithera though, and there were no similarities between the girl she had watched grow up and Qui-Gon’s former padawan. She opened the lid of her caff and added a lump of sugar before replying.

“But to answer your question, yes, she has lightsaber burns. A couple of light ones to her upper body, one to her thigh. Nothing that she wouldn’t get from a training sabre set too high. She’s also got an odd one on her neck about here,” Leona motioned and watched Qui-Gon frown.

“Like she was almost decapitated?”

“Like someone pulled a blow, but it’s not the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is that the burns run in two parallel stripes around the side of her neck like there was something in the way. It fits with the chaffing we found and similar chaffing on her wrists. There are also smaller burn points on both her wrists and her neck.”

She watched him frown. They had been friends for many years and she knew how close he had been to Namia. The events of that morning had thrown both of them and brought up too many uncomfortable questions. They sat in silence for a few minutes and Leona blew on her caff to cool it.

“What do you think?” Qui-Gon finally asked, watching her as she fiddled with her drink.

“I don’t think you’re going to get the answers you want from me.” There were a few seconds of silence and then Leona continued. “I think she was a prisoner of some sort. It fits with the whip marks, the point burns and the chaffing. However, I think we are going to have to wait for her to give her report to the Council.”

Qui-Gon let out a pensive breath.

“And when do you think that will be?”

Leona shook her head and took a sip of her drink.

“This is good,” she said after a moment, ignoring his question. “I think you should bring me caff more often if it’s going to be this good.”

“Leona, you didn’t answer my question,” Qui-Gon said after a moment. He leaned across the table, his large hands wrapped around the cup as if it could provide some sort of anchor in the horrible situation they’d found themselves in. Leona smiled tiredly, and shrugged.

“I don’t know. She’ll take about a week to heal and hopefully she won’t need more surgery on her hand. Her mental state though?” Leona took another sip of caff as if considering the question carefully. “I don’t know. She’s fragile, Qui-Gon, and I’m worried that any probing by the Council is only going to make whatever that was on the landing pads today infinitely worse.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Qui-Gon said, finishing his drink and standing up, “but she’ll have to answer eventually.”

“I know,” Leona said quietly, firmly, “but at what cost and for whose benefit?”

 

Nice discussion between Leona and Qui-Gon.
Poor Kit, she must have had a horrible time

 

Thank you for the nice comment! Also yes, she does have a pretty horrific time...

 

Chapter 3


Two weeks later

*

She stood on the landing pad, the wind blowing her hair gently. He watched her. She seemed so fragile that he had a momentary vision of the wind just picking her up and carrying her away. Further off, near the door of the landing pad, three other padawans stood with a Jedi healer. He eyed them suspiciously. He knew they were only there for support, but he was still wary.

It had been hard staying out of the way of some of the senior members of the council. For the first three days he’d been worried that he would be recognised, but that had never happened. Instead they’d sent mechanics and techs, and he’d stuck rigidly to his story, glad that the Jedi could no longer read his mind. He pushed aside the warring emotions of relief and irritation at not being recognised by the people he’d once considered friends, to smile tiredly at her. She didn’t return the smile.

“I came to say goodbye.” Her voice was flat and dull. She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and he felt his heart ache. He had done this.

“In your pyjamas?” He tried for teasing banter but knew he would fail. There was no way he could make what he had done to her and to Namia better. No way to ever make it right. She plucked at her robes with bandaged hands and frowned at him.

“These are healing robes, as you well know.”

“I know Miss Padawan, I just don’t know what else to say.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry Kithera. I’ll keep saying it until the day I die. I wish I’d made different choices, I wish I’d never promised to do that one last job. I wish I’d made him let you go at the start. But I can’t go back and change it. At the end of the day, she’s still dead and it’s my fault.”

He looked down at her as tears ran down her face and hung for a moment from her chin until the wind whipped them away.

“What will you do now?” she asked softly, as if his previous words had never been spoken.

“I don’t know. See what jobs are out there. The Temple has fixed The Lady and no-one recognised me.” He gave a hollow laugh, “I don’t know why I thought they would. Why would you recognise someone who's been dead for more than ten years? What about you? What will you do now?”

She shrugged again as the tears continued to trickle down her face. She didn’t wipe them away; it was almost as if she hadn’t noticed she was crying.

“I will give my account to the Council tomorrow.”

“I could stay, hang around in case you need a hand.”

“No, I don’t think you staying around would be good for anyone. I’ll be alright.” She gave a soft, sad smile. He shook his head at the iniquity of it all. The Jedi Council he remembered had been about politics and tradition rather than fairness or justice. It was likely that she would be punished for his decisions. She gave a little sob and without thinking he went to brush the tears away but he stopped himself.

They stood frozen for a minute as she sobbed and he stared, while the wind whipped around them. Eventually she gave a long, shuddering breath and then looked up at him.

“Don’t let them break you,” he said quietly, “and if you ever need help, just call. It doesn’t matter the time or the day. We’ll come for you.”

She nodded silently.

“I can never make up for what I did to you, Miss Padawan. I can’t…please know that if I could- “

She shuddered again and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the sad smile remained but the tears had stopped flowing.

“You’d better go,” she said softly. She reached out. He grasped her hand in both of his, feeling how cold it was.

“Good luck.” He motioned to the four women standing near the door. They were talking quietly amongst themselves but he knew they were watching everything he did. “What will you tell them?”

“Nothing, and they won’t ask. Your identity is safe with me.”

He sighed. Part of him wanted her to scream and rail, demand retribution and revenge. He knew she wouldn’t. The young woman felt too responsible to ever blame anyone else for Namia’s death except herself. He knew that she would protect him until he could get off-planet. Hopefully one day he would be able to return the favour and try to go some ways towards his own redemption.

He watched her go back to her friends, who hugged her tightly, before he turned and walked up the gangplank. He could not smile though; his heart was breaking from the guilt of what he’d done.

 

I agree with @Findswoman Curious about the pilot and poor Kit. What really happened to Namia and Kit? Come soon with more.

 

The story is...ahh...checks notes...150 000+ words so far...so you might be waiting a while

Definitely not, although you may not be such a fan of that particular character over the coming chapters. His and Kit's relationship has rather complicated beginnings.

Everything shall be revealed....!...just slowly and over the next year or so.... Glad you're enjoying it though

 

Author's note: The AU version of this scene can be found here. The one where Saelyra got the message in time...

*

Chapter 4


The dust motes floated over the council chambers, turning and drifting in the currents of air, trapped and spinning as the afternoon light stole across the room. Below them, Kit knelt on the wide expanse of tiled floor.

If the dust motes could speak, they would have told how she hadn’t moved since she had first entered the chamber as the sun rose. How she had sat unmoving as the council convened. How she had listened as people talked around her, and over her and about her but never to her.

Her brown robes were clean but worn, and in front of her lay two lightsabers, hers and her master’s.

There was a shushing noise at the door and several people entered at once. She could feel them staring at her even though she never looked up from the tiles. During that day, she’d committed the lines of the mosaic to memory. She knew by heart the way each part of the pattern folded, the parts where feet had scuffed, and the parts where the tiles were wearing smooth.

She had always struggled with staying still when meditating, but now, suddenly, it was all she wanted to do. Almost as though, if she sat there long enough, she would disappear into the floor herself and never have to explain what had happened there at that place.

She heard the Jedi Masters as they settled in the semi-circle of chairs at the edge of the chamber. She knew that they would be consulting their data pads as they examined her. Behind her, she felt other Jedi file in to stand around the edge of the room. Although no-one spoke, the room suddenly became even quieter as she heard, rather than saw, Master Yoda shift in his seat.

“Now like to hear your story we would, Padawan Rinani,” Master Yoda said gravely.

Breathe, Padawan. Breathe before you begin. Master Zahalin oft repeated words echoed in the silence and she closed her eyes, willing for this moment to be over.

“We are waiting, Rinani,” Master Windu’s voice. There was a sharp edge to the tone of his voice. Her master and Master Windu had been lovers for the last two years and now he would hear how she had betrayed the woman he loved. How she had ended up in that field with that lightsabre and how she had – “Open your mind so that you know you are speaking the truth,” Master Windu’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she shuddered.

“I can’t.” The first words out of her mouth all day. Her voice sounded raspy and wrong, even to her. “I can’t do that.”

“You have to,” Master Windu again. There was a murmur of noise from the Jedi stationed about the room. “Unless you have something to hide about how you caused Namia’s death?”

“Master Windu,” Plo Koon’s voice cut in, “given your outburst on the landing pad, the rest of the council has been wary of including you in these proceedings. Do not make us regret that decision now.”

“I merely want the truth, Plo Koon. I want to ensure that she is not manipulating the story and that we know every detail of what she did that caused Namia’s death.”

“Every other witness was very forthcoming about what they saw on that day,” Plo Koon’s voice rose a little. “None of them have indicated that Rinani did anything wrong.”

“She killed her Master.” The edge to Windu’s voice could have shattered stone. “I want to know why she made that decision. I want the truth.”

The murmur from around the room grew louder and she stared harder at the tiles, not willing to look up and face them. There was a sharp rap as Yoda’s cane hit the floor, followed by instant, suffocating silence.

“Theatrics we do not need,” the tiny green master intoned, “but open a link you will.” She shuddered again and it must have been obvious because when Master Yoda’s voice came again it was softer, gentler. “Want to see what you saw we do. Want to know everything we do.”

“I have to protest.” It was Healer Leona’s voice from the edge of the chamber. “She is in no fit state to give evidence. She is healing, she hasn’t eaten or drunk or even moved all day. This is not the way that Jedi conduct themselves.”

“This is not the usual proceedings, to be certain.” Another voice, one that Kit couldn’t quite place. She didn’t move her eyes off the tiles in front of her. She couldn’t face them. Couldn’t see reflected in their eyes what she already called herself - murderer. The Master continued. “This is also an extraordinary circumstance. I believe we’d be best hearing from Rinani today, while it’s fresh. The link will allow us to see if she speaks the truth.”

“I can’t.”

Her voice sounded so far away. How did you tell them that there was a part of you that you couldn’t touch? That was too raw, too sore and too fresh to even think about going near. How could you let other people into your memories when you couldn’t even go there yourself?

“Stop hiding!” Master Windu’s voice was angry again and Kit had to stop herself from reaching to touch the spot where he had slapped her. The mark had faded but the memory had not.

There was a sudden movement to one side and Kit braced herself for what was coming next, but instead of the hum of a lightsaber, two hands gently cradled her face as someone knelt in front of her.

Head up little Kitkit, don’t let them see your pain.

The hands gently tipped her head back. For a moment she was looking into the eyes of her Master. Then she blinked and it was gone, instead she was staring into Leona’s clear, concerned blue eyes.

“You can do this Kithera,” the healer said softly. “You can. I will be right here with you.”

Kit nodded and closed her eyes. She felt the Jedi Healer move to one side to give her space. She breathed slowly, counting her breaths like she had done as an initiate as she slowly peeled back the walls that she had so carefully put into place. She grasped for the spot where her bond with her Master would have been and came up empty. Hot tears slid down her face as she opened her eyes to stare at the Jedi Council before her. She could hear her Master’s voice in her head, willing her to make eye-contact with each one of them, to show them that she was not afraid of them, that she was as strong and as powerful as her Master before her. She could hear her Master reminding her, as she did before any fight, to breathe.

“Begin you shall,” Master Yoda said, nodding as if acknowledging the effort it took.

“There were butterflies,” she said, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath and raised her chin defiantly. Breathe before you begin. Her voice was stronger the second time. “There were butterflies and it was beautiful.”

 

poor Kit having only healer Leona to support her and that ghost

 

Quite the contrast in how much support Kithera is getting from what we see in Shadow's Edge, where her circle of friends, especially Kirsh and T'Lor.

 

Thank you all for the lovely comments Definitely very different to Metamorphosis and with far longer to go (and no-one except Leona to support her).

Much shorter chapter this week (but next week will make up for it!)

***

Chapter 5


“Padawan, what are you doing?”

Her Master’s voice called to her across the paddock. In the tall grass, Kit stared up at the butterflies that flittered around her, dancing between each delicate flower that nodded in the breeze. The melody of the Force flowed around her, moving gently with the breeze and the flight of the insects. A shadow fell across her face and she squinted up into the light, shading her eyes with one hand.

“I don’t think you’ll learn much about the mission lying on your back and staring at butterflies,” Master Zahalin said, sitting down next to her and frightening a cloud of insects into the air.

“I’ve read the entire data pad already,” Kit said, tossing the tiny data pad into the air and catching it again. “Plus I figured that you were busy talking to the ship’s first Captain and you wouldn’t want me to interfere.”

“I was getting directions to the town.”

“Oh?” Kit sat up and smiled at her Master. “Not organising a rendezvous for the way home? What would that have made him? Paramour 54?” She made a dramatic shocked face. “And what would Master Windu say?”

“Watch your mouth padawan,” Namia warned, her eyes narrowing. Teasing her Master about the number of lovers she collected was an old pastime, and one Kithera enjoyed immensely.

“Sorry Master,” Kit said, grinning. “I know Master Windu loves you very much. I just hope to have your, uhh…charisma and way of interacting with the opposite sex one day…”

“Padawan…” the voice was warning enough.

“Fine. I mean I’ve got the rest of my life to watch you work, so there’s no rush. Maybe we could celebrate when we hit one hundred paramours?”

“Too far now Kitkit.”

“Okay. Okay.” She was still grinning. “So, why are we here again?”

“I thought you read the data pad, and that was why you had so much time to stare at butterflies and make up stories about my love life.” Master Zahalin was staring at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Uh, I may have read the first and last paragraphs and skipped the entire middle part. Something about a baby, force-sensitives, people going missing and a new ruler. That’s all I got.”

Master Zahalin sighed and picked one of the wild growing flowers.

“I’m very worried about your comprehension skills, padawan. At this rate, I can maybe see you passing your trials at fifty.”

Kit stood and stretched, scaring more butterflies into flight. She gave an experimental bounce on her toes.

“Aww, more time to count your paramours, Master,” she said, holding her hand out and helping Master Zahalin to her feet. “Plus, by then you’ll need someone to help you with your walking frame. It’ll be perfect. Why would I want to change it?”

Master Zahalin shoved the girl slightly and Kit giggled and leapt away from her, sending up clouds of butterflies as she moved through the long grass.

“Let’s go get this baby,” Kit said, grinning at her Master. “And don’t worry, Master, this isn’t how it ends.” She stopped dead and, frowning, shook her head. The world had tip tilted for a second leaving her strangely confused. “I don’t know why I said that. I keep feeling like I’ve been here before. The butterflies and the rolling hills. But we haven’t and I…just…I don’t know.”

Master Zahalin smiled comfortingly and hoisted up the two backpacks.

“I’m sure it’ll all become clear padawan, but for now we’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”

Despite the warm sunshine, Kit shivered. For a second she thought she’d heard her Master say “before we die”. She shook her head to get rid of the thought. It was foolish and silly. Around her the Force trilled with the light and music of the thousands of insects making her heart sing. This wasn’t the place for dark or foreboding thoughts. This was a simple mission, get the child, gather information and then go home; what could go wrong?

 

A very intriguing mission and a lot of warmth and snark. Eek! Such forebodingness towards the end.

 

I like @Findswoman noticed that Kit felt like she'd been there before and what if she'd insisted to Namia "I really have a bad feeling about this". Maybe Namia also had strange twinges of something being off but shrugged them off in her own mind. Wow, what a tangent that would create if the whole mission took a side turn and Namia survived.

 

All of the snark. There is a lot of teasing between Kit and Namia in their relationship for a whole host of reasons...but keep in mind the gentle teasing and snark here because it doesn't last long...

There is a lot of that. Actually there is a lot of that the whole way through. Probably start a drinking game with the level of Shakespearean Romeo-and-Juliet-esque foreboding that goes on. Luckily (or unluckily) Kithera is a remarkably oblivious character.

Ahh...about that. The whole thing now is basically one long flashback. I should have been clearer at the start that this is very much a columbo situation. You know that Namia dies. You know Kit's on trial for it, but you don't know how or why it happens. Everything from here on in is the entire story of what happened from Kithera's point of view. I will get back to the present time - but it will be after every event that leads to Namia's death (so a long, long time in the future). I hope that's okay, and apologies for not being clearer.

You know, I hadn't even thought about that, but you're possibly quite right. She doesn't see herself in that way and so she teases Namia on the surface because she knows it irritates her - it's a way of getting the attention she absolutely craves.

Namia is...ah...good at that. As shall become quite clear soon.

Thank you both for the lovely comments

I had to giggle when I read this comment this morning. I could absolutely see it as something Namia would do.

"Look padawan, I'm going to fake my death. I'm tired of being a Jedi. What I want you to do is go back and tell everyone you killed me. You'll be put on trial, but you should be okay...in the end. I mean...what's the worst that could happen?"

 

teasing and snark between Kit and her master but some forboding about what is going to happen.

 

Chapter 6


“Master, are we lost?” Kithera sighed and put the bags down. Master Zahalin frowned at her. Kit ignored the look, rolling her shoulders and stretching to get the kinks out. “We’ve been trying to find the right house for hours now.”

Namia’s frown deepened and she went back to studying the datapad without saying a word. Kit looked around the empty streets which were dark and preternaturally silent. Windows were shuttered as if the mere glimpse of light would bring terrible misfortune. The duracrete streets were rough underfoot, but the entire town looked like it had once been well-cared for. It was strange though; she’d never been in a village that looked both loved and completely abandoned.

Kit reached out with the Force; the music was jagged. When she closed her eyes, she could see the little spikes of tune from groups of people in the shuttered houses, but there weren’t as many spikes as there should have been.

“Everyone here is really scared. There’s something going on here Master,” Kit said, opening her eyes. Master Zahalin didn’t say a word, just stared intently at the datapad as its eerie glow lit her face. There was a noise from the next street and Kit froze, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her lightsaber. A small black droid trundled around the corner. Kithera felt a burst of embarrassed, anxious laughter well up inside her but tamped it down. The little droid looked them up and down and then tootled as it wheeled past. It was ridiculous to get so worked up, but there was something about the whole village that was setting her teeth on edge.

“It’s this way,” Master Zahalin said, after a moment. She pointed down a tiny winding alleyway. Kit nodded and picked up the bags again. She shook her head to get rid of the nagging feeling that something terrible was going to happen. She thought that she saw the little droid pause and look back at them, but when she glanced again, it was gone.

Two minutes and one rickety staircase later, Namia was knocking on a door. The laughter that had been trickling out through the narrow cracks in the woodwork instantly stopped.

There was a jangly spike of fear in the Force as Namia knocked again.

“Amma, it’s me; Namia.” Kithera frowned at her Master’s whisper. There was a level of familiarity there that the datapad had not hinted at.

There was a long silence, and she found herself again surveying the strangely empty streets. They were a contradiction to what she had read on the datapad. That had talked about a civilisation of peace and prosperity ruled over by hereditary kings, not whatever this was. A chill ran down her spin as her Master knocked quickly again at the door. When they had been in the field, the music of the Force had been bright and quick and full of airy life notes but here it was more sombre, a rumbling symphony of cellos and timpani.

“Master, we need to go,” she said quietly. “If they don’t want to answer, then the babe stays with them, and we go home.”

Master Zahalin made a shushing motion as an old lady opened the door warily, a long thin knife in one hand. Kit’s hand reflexively went to her lightsaber hilt again, but the Force warned that the woman was more scared of them than they should be of her. The old lady relaxed as she saw Master Zahalin standing at the door and gave them both a quick, tight smile.

“Come in, come in.” She beckoned to them and Master Zahalin quickly stepped inside without a backwards glance. Kit frowned and followed her bags in tow.

As she closed the door behind her she heard, somewhere in the distance, a little droid beep.


*


The room that she entered was bright, warm and, surprisingly, full of people. They were a mix of ages but all women and young children. The women were sharing a meal from the table in the centre and looked like they’d been deep in conversation. The old lady had put down her knife and was embracing Namia. She stepped away from her and looked up and down at Kit.

“This must be your daughter,” she said, moving forward to embrace her. The old lady stepped back, still grasping Kithera by the shoulders. She stared at Kit at arm’s length for several seconds. Kit had the odd feeling that she was trying to find an answer for a question that hadn’t been asked.

After a few seconds, the old woman smiled at Namia. Kit found herself being regarded by several sets of curious eyes.

“Padawan, Amma; not daughter,” her Master corrected.

“But you think of her as your daughter, yes?” The old woman asked. Kit, still pinned by the old woman’s embrace, shot a look at her Master. First the locked town and now this social gathering of women. Kit frowned at the oddness and, not for the first time since they’d arrived on the villages’ outskirts, wished that her master was more forthcoming when she set a mission. Master Zahalin smiled at her.

“I think of her as my daughter, yes.”

Satisfied, the old woman let her go and joined the women on the couch.

“Come neiti, let us eat together.”

Kithera looked around to see who the lady was talking to and realised with a start that it was her. The Master Zahalin was already sitting on one of the low cushions and smiling at the young lady who was pouring something hot and steaming into two cups. Kit carefully put the packs on the ground and sat on the only empty spot left on the floor.

The young lady to her right smiled at her and offered her a cup of the same liquid that had been poured for her Master. Kit looked askance at the dark brown liquid. There had been too many times in the past when accepting a local delicacy had backfired spectacularly. She watched her Master take a long drink and decided it was probably safe.

Kithera took a tentative sip. The spicy warmth filled her, and she closed her eyes briefly, savouring the flavour.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” The voice was warm and kind. Kithera opened her eyes and saw the girl who had handed her the mug watching her.

“It’s very nice.” Kithera smiled and put the mug down.

“I’m Niambi,” the girl said, her eyes crinkling closed as she smiled.

“Kithera, uh, Kit.”

“And that’s Nini.” The girl motioned behind her to where a baby was sleeping in a tiny, woven bassinet. Kithera looked at the sleeping baby. It just looked like any other baby, a tiny, animated vegetable. The baby squirmed in its sleep and Niambi reached back to sooth her.

“She’s lovely,” Kit said mechanically, wincing at how awkward her tone sounded.

Niambi laughed. “She is lovely but she’s also not really much at the moment. I’m sure she’ll grow up into a wonderful Jedi.”

Kithera tried to keep the sudden realisation from playing all over her face. This was the child that they were here to test.

“I’m sure she will,” she said quietly. “Are you sure you want to give her up?”

“It’s better than life here. Anywhere is better than here.” Niambi’s face, so cheerful only a second before, had gone very still and sombre.

“I didn’t realise…” Kithera frowned, not sure at what the girl was referring to.

“Didn’t Namia tell you?” the young woman asked curiously. “She said she would help us. Taking Nini to join the Jedi is only part of it.”

Kit frowned. Now that she thought about it, the datapad had been rather sparse on details and it was certainly evident by the state of the town and the jangly spikes of fear that any information it had contained was incorrect. She frowned. Her Master was generally more forthcoming with details, except when she was hiding something. Kithera looked sideways towards where her Master sat, trying to catch her eye, but Master Zahalin seemed to be judiciously ignoring her.

//Uh Master? Why are they talking about a plan? What plan? //

//Soon padawan, don’t be impatient. Just test the child. //

Kit scowled. She didn’t like it when her Master dismissed her. She was no longer at the start of her apprenticeship. Niambi was looking at her in confusion, obviously misconstruing the scowl.

“I mean, that is if she’s force sensitive. I don’t want to leave her, but I would rather that she grew up in the safety of the Temple than what is happening on Ovri.”

//What’s happening on this planet? I’m not twelve anymore, Master. What in all nine sith hells is going on? //

//Soon padawan. Soon. Just listen and be patient. //

Kit managed to stop the eyeroll almost before it started. Instead, she glared at her Master who was making a show of thoroughly ignoring her.

“Let me go and get the equipment and then you can tell me more about Nini,” Kit said, tamping down on her annoyance. She got softly to her feet and found the kit amongst their things. It was a relatively simple procedure. She’d once heard that in the old days Jedi had to wait until a child was old enough to show signs, or that the Jedi had been led there by the Force. While the second was certainly still true, the routine blood tests that most hospitals did at birth did at least some of the work for them. However, the more outer-rim worlds like this one still relied on rumours, a gentle nudge by the Force and a simple test.

Kithera pulled the testing box open, slowly assembling the pieces as she listened to the conversation around her. There was a gentle nudge by the Force, and then there was this, where her Master had obviously done some nudging and manipulating of her own.

Kithera loved her Master. She had been the first, and sometimes only, adult in her life who saw through the constant movement and exuberance to what she could do. Although, after almost ten years together, Kit was no longer blind to the way that her Master got things done. Master Zahalin didn’t follow the middle path of light so much as skirt the edges and occasionally dip into shadows. Sometimes it made her worry if there would ever come a day that it would all come crashing down and, when it did so, would it take out just her Master or her too?

//Come padawan. Listen. //

Her Master’s voice broke through her musings and Kit turned and headed back to where the group of women were still sharing tea and food. Their children were asleep in their laps, or on the various cushions around the room.

“Tell the story again. I do believe my padawan was away with the butterflies when you started it, dear Amma.” Kithera shot her Master a look, but Namia just ignored it and made a show of listening to the old lady.

“It all started with King Aalam’s passing. He was a wise and noble king, and he treated us well, as you saw last time you were here.”

//Last time? //

//Shush padawan. Listen. //

“His nephew, Mirrikh, curse his name, is now ruler.”

“I thought that King Aalam had a daughter?” Kithera asked without thinking. Her Master frowned.

//So, you did read the datapad.//

There was muttering amongst the women.

“When King Aalam died, Mirrikh declared himself as the one true ruler. In his dotage he was convinced to marry the Duchess Zanu'ba-”

“His sister-in-law,” Kithera said, frowning. Kithera ignored her master’s annoyed look as the Ish-te nodded. “Isn’t that unusual?”

There were several snorts of mirthless laughter around the room.

“Not as strange as what happened next,” Niambi said, shaking her head.

“The Duchess’ dislike of the Ish-te was legendary. The moment that Mirrihk declared himself King, the Ish-te rose in protest.”

“Queen J’meesha…” Niambi said, looking downcast, and several women muttered what sounded to Kithera like prayers.

“To stop the war and the slaughter of the Ish-te, J’meesha said that she would marry Mirrikh. They are cousins and normally that would be frowned upon. I think J’meesha thought it would be enough to protect us, but she was wrong. Mirrikh is only just a man, neiti, but yet he believes it is his right to use his people as he pleases.”

“But” Kithera frowned, the datapad had mentioned nothing of this. “Aren’t you Ish-te people while the ruling family are part of the Sami'? Don’t the two cultures peacefully co-exist?”

//The whole datapad apparently. //

//Well Master, sometimes it’s the only way to find things out. // Kithera didn’t glance at her Master to see if the barb hit home, but there was a ripple of brass through the Force which signalled her Master’s irritation.

“Sami'Ish-te,” Amma sighed and rubbed her hands together. Her skin was worn and wrinkled over knobbly fingers. “It is the name of both people. Like the name, the Sami' have ruled and the Ish-te have followed. But under Mirrikh we have become outsiders. We are, we were, accepted but we are not Sami', but as I said Mirrikh and his mother do not like us.” The old lady grimaced and poured another cup. “Originally the Baroness Kiffeh protected us, but she was married to a Ja-hi, an Ish-te, and thus she lost favour in court. They eventually fled off world which left us at the mercy of Mirrikh.”

Kithera frowned, trying to follow the story. There were too many names and too many alliances and relationships to easily follow. Amma must have sensed her confusion, because she smiled sadly.

“Several weeks ago, they came and took the men of our village. They said that they were needed to work the grain fields. Those who protested were cut down. They left the womenfolk, but we don’t know for how long. Every day there are stories of another family missing. We know that if they leave peacefully, they are unharmed but not what becomes of them. Now it is only us here and we know we will be next. He sends hunters and droids to capture us at night.”

The memory of the tiny droid trundling past them flashed into Kit’s mind and she shuddered. It made sense now, the jangly spikes of the Force, the empty but loved town.

She bit her bottom lip as a sudden wave of foreboding washed over her.

Amma sighed and poured herself another cup of tea. “We didn’t know what to do.”

“We’re here now,” Namia said, smiling reassuringly.

Amma leant across and patted Namia’s knee. “That is true. You are back with us and now all will be well again.”

“Uh, Master, Can I talk to you for a minute please?” Kit tried to plaster a smile on her face, making a show of struggling with the box in front of her. Her Master smiled at the assembled women and rose as Kit stood quickly and made her way into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them the moment her Master entered.

“So, this is why we are here? What did she mean by back with us? What is going on?”

“Nini is Force sensitive, padawan. We are here to collect her and take her to the Temple.” Namia smiled at Kithera in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, but Kithera shook her head.

“Then why do they all think we are here to do more than that? We aren’t here to rescue an entire people, Master. Surely you see the foolishness in that. There are two of us. Surely you don’t expect us to overthrow an entire system of government?”

Her Master frowned, her head coming up in a way that Kithera had seen all too often when she’d gone too far. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Kithera said, trying to keep her voice from sounding too sullen. “I just do not understand what we are doing here.”

“It will all become clear in time,” Namia said, and Kithera only just managed to stop the snort of derision. She’d heard that particularly platitude too many times in her life. “You are still my padawan, little Kit, and in this case, you need to trust my judgement as your Master.”

“But this isn’t something that-“Kit started, her head coming up, but Namia cut her off motioning to the door behind which the other women sat.

“You need to keep your voice down.”

“Fine.” Kithera made a face, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Tell me then, why the secrecy?”

Namia sighed. “There are people in the Senate who can’t be trusted. Even some of the Council did not know of this mission.”

Kit pursed her lips and huffed.

“Some of the Council or all of them?” When her Master didn’t answer, Kithera shook her head. “So, if we get into trouble then no-one will come for us?”

“We won’t get into trouble.”

“Famous last words, Master. We don’t even have a ship that can carry them all.”

“The Force will provide padawan.”

“Seriously, Master, I don’t think this is a go-”

“Well, Padawan,” her master said, speaking loudly to cut off the whispered argument and emphasising the word padawan as a reminder of where Kit stood on the decision-making tree, “I think I managed to unclip that part for you. We should get Nini tested.”

Kithera gave her Master a tight smile.

“This isn’t the end of the argument, Master.”

“It is for me, padawan. These people need our help. This is our job as Jedi, and we will see it through.”

Kit followed her Master back into the room, trying once again to plaster the smile back on her face. She settled back down next to Niambi

“If you take Nini, this will only take a second,” she said quietly. The girl nodded and quietly picked up the baby, who stirred slightly. Kit brushed the back of her fingers over the downy hair of the baby’s head in the best soothing motion she could manage and then moved the swaddle slightly so that it could draw a tiny drop of blood from the baby’s leg. Nini gave a plaintive cry, and Kit saw her Master frown. She hadn’t been letting the Force flow the way that she should make the procedure painless.

The argument with her Master had thrown her. Why was Namia so insistent on helping these people and so insistent on doing it alone?

Niambi was making shushing noises over the child and Kit tried to refocus, moving the musical eddies of the Force to create a soft and welcoming lullaby. The baby immediately yawned and snuggled closer to its mother and Niambi yawned too.

“Sorry,” Kit said softly, reaching out a hand to steady the other young woman before she fell asleep where she sat. “That was a little too strong.”

Niambi smiled bewildered at her. “I think I’m just tired. I do not like this sense of living and always waiting for the trap to close.” She looked away as if she was embarrassed about saying too much. “When will you know the results?”

Kithera looked down at the test in her hands and then placed it into the right container.

“In about half an hour. It won’t take long. How about you tell me about Nini while we wait?”

Kithera tried to smile at Niambi encouragingly. Maybe if she learnt more about these people: their lives and wants, then it would become more obvious why Master Zahalin was, so force bent on undertaking this mission now, even though they didn’t have the time or the ships or the resources to save these people. Niambi smiled.

“I can make you some more tea while we wait,” she offered. “It’s not much but the tea and our children are the only things we still have.”


*


Kithera sat in the early dawn light watching the baby sleep. The test has returned the results she’d expected. Nini was force sensitive. She’d watched Niambi’s face crumple as she’d told her the news. It was always hard breaking the news to a family, some parents handed their children over because they wanted the accolade of having a child at the Temple, some because they had heard stories of what untrained sensitives could become, and some smiled and thanked the Jedi and went on their way with their children in tow.

Kit had never heard the same sort of melody that echoed from Niambi, a mixture of sadness, hope, love and loss.There was also the quiet refrain of profound relief twinning its way through the music. Niambi obviously saw Kit’s quizzical look and gave a sad, heartbroken smile.

“I love her,” she said quietly, running her fingers across Nini’s tousled brown curls, “but if she stays here, she won’t have a future. Not with Mirrikh as the King. Not when the Ish-te are so helpless. So, I have to do this, even though my heart hurts.”

Kit glanced at Niambi’s tear-filled eyes and threw her arms around her. Niambi shuddered and then burst into quiet sobs, burying her face into Kit’s shoulder. Kit looked up to see her Master watching her, one eyebrow raised.

//And this is why we do this padawan. Now are you on board? //

Kit didn’t say anything, just frowned and went back to stroking Niambi’s hair while she cried.

That had been hours ago now, back when the night was young and wasn’t so cold. Kit shivered and pulled her robes around her. Behind her there were snores and murmurs as the women and children slept, rolled in their blankets.

She’d offered to take the watch over night as everyone else slept because she wanted to think. She’d spent most of the night mulling over Master Zahalin’s desire to rescue everyone seemingly without a plan. Namia not telling her about why they were there had really bugged her. She loved her Master with a fierce passion. Master Zahalin had rescued her from far too many adventures or times when she’d stepped well past the line of appropriate Jedi behaviour.

However, as she’d gotten older, she’d realised that Namia had a tendency to back people into corners where the only way to extricate themselves was by following exactly what she wanted.

As a child she’d excused it, but as she’d gotten older, it had become harder to ignore and harder to excuse when friends like Kirsten and T’lor pointed it out. Now it annoyed her that her Master still thought she was so easily to manipulate.

Kithera sighed loudly and then screwed her face up as Nini stirred in the basket beside her. She closed her eyes and tried to silence her mind and slow her breathing. She listened to the ebb and flow of music of the town. There was something about this place that was putting her teeth on edge, a sour note in an otherwise beautiful symphony.

She extended her senses, following trails of notes and individual melodies to see what she could find, but all she came upon were sleeping animals. Kit frowned, her eyes still closed, and hunted other melody paths, trying to find people, but there was virtually no-one left in this once bustling town.

//Now do you understand? //

Kit startled and turned to see her Master awake and watching her, a cup of caff in one hand.

//I didn’t hear you wake. // Kit sent accusatorily, ignoring the question.

//I didn’t want to interrupt your meditation. Do you understand now though? They are almost the last ones left. When the droids come, and they will come, these people will disappear too, and no-one will see them again. //

//What do you think happens to them? //

//I don’t know, padawan, // Namia sat down next to her and looked at Nini, who had gone back to sleep, two tiny fists in the air, //but I doubt it’s good. The old King was fair and just but his nephew has always had a darkness about him. The Force doesn’t tell me what their fates are, only that they suffer. //

//Why did she call me neiti? //

Master Zahalin smiled and took a sip of caff. //They do make a good caff here. //

//Master.// Kit’s thought was tinged with the same annoyance that played over her face. //I’m too old for games. //

//But not old enough for every truth. Just know, padawan, that these people are special to me and that Amma calls you granddaughter. // Master Zahalin rose and patted her padawan on the shoulder. Kithera ground her teeth together.

//Master. This is not the end of this. //

//I have to make sure we have all of what we need to travel, Kitkit. You keep practicing your meditation. See how far you can follow your music. //

She moved away and Kithera looked down to see that she’s clenched her fists hard enough that the nails dug into the skin. She let out a long breath and closed her eyes. She let her breathing quiet again until she became aware of the steady life beats of those sleeping around her.

She found the sour note that plagued the melody and followed it, trying to find where it was. Just as she’d almost found it, it vanished and was replaced by a metallic clink and scrape. Kit’s eyes flew open as the symphony changed from quiet warmth to the kettle drums and brass of a warning. She was on her feet in a second, her Master beside her. At her feet the baby stirred and whimpered in its woven bassinet.

“Did you hear it?” She asked, realising that she’d spoken aloud rather than over the bond. Master Zahalin nodded. Kit closed her eyes again, trying to find the source and how much danger it represented. The music filled her, threatening to overwhelm her with the beat of danger and darkness and intermingled, all the time, that one sour note.

“There are droids,” she whispered after a moment, “coming this way. Coming for us.”

Her master nodded as around them the women and children began to stir.

“Up, up.” Master Zahalin was moving around the room, shaking people awake. “Up Amma, we need to flee. Do you know a safe way out?” The old woman was staring at them bleary eyed. For the first time Kit noticed how similar Zahalin looked to the women in the room, the music of the Force that surrounded the women sounded almost the same too. The deeper brass and the udu that she normally associated with her Master was louder here, the beats intertwining in a melody that was almost too fast to follow. Niambi tugged on her sleeve, spoiling her reverie. The young woman was trying to pull a backpack on.

“Are they coming for us?” she asked breathlessly.

Kithera nodded, as she reached out to help Niambi tighten the straps. “They come. Just droids though. I should be able to keep them at bay.”

The look of relief on Niambi’s face was stark.

“You would do that for us? You will keep us safe?”

Kithera found herself looking up at her Master, who had paused in harrying the women awake to look at her.

“I will do that,” she promised, trying to push away the sense of foreboding that filled her. “I will keep you safe.”

Across the room, Master Zahalin nodded and went back to throwing clothes into bags and making whispered plans.

 

Master Zahalin and her manipulations. What will happen next?

 

Yeah, Namia's done quite a lot of manipulation in this story...as for what happens next...you'll have to wait until Sunday.

On that, and a general question to everyone -

The entire story is, at the present time, roughly 155 000 words. Some of the chapters get quite long (like the last one), but I can break them into smaller chunks.

Which brings me to my question (the long way around, sorry!)

Which do you prefer? Long chapters once week OR short chapters but more frequent updates?

 

short pieces and frequent updates.