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| - Standing in the shadows with Daara, Selu watched the people gathered around the roaring fires perhaps a hundred meters away. The blaze and the festivities down below were far enough away that he could see them, but the distance between him and the fire meant that he felt the full effects of the chill wind blowing through the cave. Shivering, he wrapped his cloak around him tighter, a parallel for the tight control he was keeping on his Force presence, muffled and discreet. Olno Mada had been true to his word, and had arranged for the Zeison Sha elders of their ruling council to meet at Ayarolla, and now dozens more Zeison Sha were gathered down at a rocky shelf overlooking the spring of water, clustered around campfires. No doubt, greetings between old friends and family members long separated were being exchanged, and Selu and Spectre had been hard at work the last four days helping the community prepare food and temporary lodgings for the visitors. The Zeison Sha were a generous people, he determined, willing to give up much to help others, but independent and strong-willed. It would not be easy to convince them, but Selu knew he had no choice. From the looks of it, there could be a few hundred Force-sensitives among them, and they had tremendous skill in the telekinetic manifestations of the Force. He had been briefly invited to watch a group of Zeison Sha train—from a distance—and marveled at how all of them were far more adept with telekinesis than he had been at that age. Some of the more talented trainees even rivaled his own mastery. Since then, Selusda had been loath to place his powers to the test. He could not appear weak and helpless to these people lest they reject him outright. Eventually, Selu noticed that some order was beginning to form out of the merriment, with twelve Zeison Sha sitting around a fire. From the limited extent of power he diverted to his Force senses, he could tell they were all the brightest luminaries among them; their presences shone like stars against the others. Even from the shadows, he could see the distinctly muscular figure of Olno Mada addressing them and a lump rose in his throat as he knew that he would soon be called to go down there. Spectre would be with him, but the responsibility for convincing the elders would be on his shoulders. Now that he was actually facing what Revan had said was his destiny, it was far more intimidating than simply talking about it or even shipjacking the Imperial scout ship. “Nervous?” asked Daara, who was also standing beside him and Spectre. Despite the cold, she was still wearing the same loose robes that she had worn as she had during the much warmer day. “A little,” Selu replied. “How did you know that?” “Not everything has to be Force-based,” she answered with a slight smile. “Your facial expression gave it away.” “That’s observant of you,” Selu replied. “Considering you’ve only known me for a few days.” “I had all these unpleasant images of what a Jedi would be like,” Daara said, turning towards him suddenly. “I thought you would be haughty and inconsiderate. Maybe even a little sinister.” “Apparently that’s not uncommon,” put in Spectre. “I know, and I thought I could never grow to respect a Jedi, but . . . you’re different.” “How so?” Selu asked. “The way you saved my life from the Imperial scouts. The way you did whatever Papa wanted—and he gave you the dirtiest jobs. How you never complained about anything the whole time or tried to be all preachy.” “We’re here to serve,” Selu told her. “But thank you.” “Whatever happens down there, you’ve at least got me on your side.” Selu saw the sincerity in her youthful eyes and knew that her statement placed her at odds with the majority of her people. She was placing everything on the line for him and the cause he believed in. If for no other reason, he owed it to her, and to his crew, to do everything he could for the sake of uniting the Force exiles. “Thank you, Daara,” he said, laying his hand gently on her arm. “That means a lot.” They stood there for a moment, until Spectre interrupted the silence. “Selu, Olno Mada is signaling us.” “Understood, Spectre,” Selu said. Selu gave Daara a brief smile, and then started walking down the rocky slope towards the campfires where Olno Mada and the ruling council were awaiting him, followed by Spectre and Daara. “This is the reason you all have been called here on such short notice,” Olno Mada announced as Selu made his way into the circle. “No matter what you hear, give them the same respect that you would give me as they speak.” “That may prove to be a hard request to grant, Olno Mada,” spoke up an older human man sitting in the circle. “But we will hear what your guests have to say, and decide for ourselves what respect they deserve.” By now, Selu was standing in front of the fire and to most of the circle, the roaring tongues of flame backlit him perfectly. As he slowly removed the hood of his cloak, the light from the fire marked his features with a dancing red glow and he stood there silently for a moment. His eyes moving from one elder to the next in turn, he solemnly cleared his mind and composed his thoughts, focusing on what he to say. “Elders of the Zeison Sha, I bring you greetings and an apology, one that is centuries long overdue. My name is Selusda Kraen and this is my companion, Spectre.” Here Selu gestured back at Spectre, who acknowledged him with a curt nod. “What is this apology you speak of?” asked a wizened Duros elder. Olno Mada looked as if he were about to speak up about something, but Selu stopped him with a subtle hand motion. “The apology is for a terrible mistake made centuries ago by my kind,” Selu said. “Long ago, the Jedi Order fought a terrible war with the Sith, the servants of the dark side. Many friends and relatives of the Jedi were placed at risk by the conflict and they fled to a refuge in the Outer Rim, here on Yanibar, expecting to be rescued at the end of the war. We all know that that never happened. I tend to believe that the Jedi lost the knowledge of your people, not that they willingly abandoned them, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that thousands of people who relied on the Jedi Order were let down in the worst way.” “You speak to us of the past?” the Duros inquired. “Do you mean to apologize for the actions of the whole Jedi Order?” “I do,” Selu told him. “I am no Jedi Master and I have no official standing, but as I know, no one has ever taken responsibility for your abandonment. On behalf of the Jedi Order, I humbly apologize to the Zeison Sha for how the Jedi have wronged you.” “Very courteous of you,” put in another elder, a human woman, who looked to be at least in her eighties. “But who are you to speak for the whole Jedi Order? Who sent you? What’s your true agenda on Yanibar?” “Had I been coming here not three years ago, it would have been as a representative of an Order numbering in the thousands, supporting and supported by the major galactic government. But that has changed. The Sith have returned and exacted their revenge. They manipulated us into fighting a galactic war which divided the Jedi and killed dozens. Then, they took over the government, the army, and turned the power of the state against us. They slaughtered us, young and old, wherever they could find us. I’m here as one of the few survivors who managed to escape their wrath. While I came to apologize, I also have a terrible warning for you: they will come for you too.” Selu looked around at the elders. They had sat quietly through his whole speech, even as his voice had started trembling when he talked about the Jedi purge. “On what do you base your warning, Jedi?” asked the human woman. “The Sith will never stop until they have the whole galaxy under their control,” Selu answered. “They already have forces here. Some of my friends and I also intercepted an Imperial scout ship, which would have come here, looking for you.” “You said it’s been two years since the fall of the Jedi Order. If your warning was so urgent, why didn’t you come before?” asked Olno Mada, and Selu knew that his host still also had to be convinced. “I was in exile,” Selu answered. “Hiding from agents of the Empire. After escaping from one of their ships, my crew and I came upon a hidden world, where spirits of ancient Jedi spoke to us. They gave us this warning and sent us to contact you. Even now, some of my other companions are speaking to two other groups, the Matukai and the Jal Shey, presenting them with the same offer I now wish to make you.” At least, he hoped, his companions were speaking to the other two groups. A sense of guilt and concern swept through him, but he felt sure that he would have known if Sarth, Cassi, or Milya had died or were in trouble. That temporarily calmed his fears, allowing him to return to focusing on his audience. A wave of suspicion rolled off of the group; to Selu’s Force senses, it was all but tangible. His next statement would have to be especially persuasive, or he would lose them altogether. “The spirits I spoke to told me that all Force users who serve the light side must unite if we are to survive. We must stand together, or we will fall one by one. My proposal is that we join together: Zeison Sha, Jedi, and whoever else wishes to join us, and found a new refuge where we can preserve our heritage until the time is right to stop the Empire. I promise you that I don’t seek to change your way of life or of studying the Force. I envision a community of equals, not of rivals.” “Nice words, Jedi,” responded the Duros. “But how do you propose to do this? The Empire is already here, as you said, and any attempt to escape would be noticed.” “Plus, there are thousands of our people,” Olno Mada pointed out. “You do not have the ships to take us to a new world or the supplies to ensure we survive, do you?” Selu was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.” “Then it would be a risk akin to the one that stranded our ancestors here!” the old woman responded. “Even if you did have the means to escape the Empire and the ships and supplies to carry us elsewhere, our people have survived here for thousands of years,” Olno Mada added. “We have survived dark times before, we will do so again.” “This is not like those other times,” Selu protested, a sense of urgency rising within him. He could feel the minds of the council snapping shut like steel doors, closed off to his arguments. They were dangerously close to rejecting him outright. “The Empire is already here,” Selu told them. “We found a ship that was coming here to search for Force-users. Your secrecy kept you hidden all of these years—but you have already lost that.” “And you stopped that ship,” the Duros said. “For that, your assistance to young Daara, and your apology, we are grateful.” “The Empire will send another,” Spectre warned them. “Once they find you, no one will survive, even if the Empire has to melt the surface of the planet to kill the last survivors.” Olno Mada shook his head. “We thank you for your warning, but your way is not the only way,” he said. “The Zeison Sha will survive and endure as we always have.” The other council members nodded their heads in silent agreement. Selu felt a wave of disappointment and desperation wash over him. “This may be the largest community of Force-users left in the galaxy who do not serve evil,” he pleaded. “I beg you not to throw it away foolishly.” Immediately, Selu knew he had said the wrong thing. Several members of the council visibly stiffened at the perceived rebuke, but it was too late. His compulsion to sway them somehow had backfired. “We do not need Jedi lectures on how to lead our people,” the Duros answered coldly. “You may stay here another night, but then tomorrow you must leave.” Again, the other councilors nodded in silent agreement. “This meeting is adjourned,” Olno Mada said thickly. “Master Mada,” Selu started, but the burly Zabrak brushed by him without reply. The other council members dispersed as well, leaving Selu standing there dejectedly with Daara and Spectre beside him. Selu stared at the fire, wondering how he could have failed. That was likely the only chance he would get to persuade the Zeison Sha, and he had blown it. “So now what?” Spectre asked him. “You heard him,” Selu answered. “We leave tomorrow and go back to the ship.” “What about the prophecy? And the mission?” Spectre inquired. Selu knew the question was innocent, that Spectre was looking to him for leadership, but the words were salt rubbed in the open wound of his recent failure. Irritably, he turned towards the ex-soldier. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “Maybe it was wrong.” Wrapping his robe about him, he stalked off, realizing that he had just made a fool of himself in front of Spectre and Daara. The knowledge only compounded his misery and sense of failure. Tokmia Sarth Kraen fidgeted with the sleeves of his robe as he waited in the wings of the audience chamber alongside Cassi. The droning sound of Mentor Frelix’s voice and a low murmur of conversation could be heard from the natural amphitheater. They had been summoned here by their Whiphid guide S’vollke, but had been instructed to wait until called before entering the chamber. Now that it was actually time for their address to the Jal Shey, Sarth was nervous, knowing how much rested upon the next few minutes. “Hey, are you okay?” Cassi asked. “I’m fine,” Sarth replied after a moment. “Just tense.” “Relax,” she replied, smiling at him. “You’ll be fine.” “I wish I had your confidence.” Sarth started to say something, but was interrupted by a summons. “Jedi Knights Sarth Kraen and Cassi Trealus,” called Frelix from the room. Slowly, purposefully, the two walked into the circular room, the sound of their footfalls echoing surprisingly loudly in the stone chamber. Coming to a halt in the middle of the chamber next to Frelix’s desk, they took in the multiple layers of desks rising above them, encircling them, filled with several dozen Jal Shey of various species, watching them intently. Again Sarth was reminded of the Senate Hall on Coruscant, and this time noted the delicate inlays on each of the desks that probably represented significant events or motifs from Jal Shey history. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he realized that he wasn’t just addressing a few elders of the Jal Shey—he was addressing the whole order, or at least, all of its adult members. The weight of their gazes bore down on him and he was suddenly even more nervous than before. Recalling a relaxation technique Selu had taught him, he stepped forward, working up the nerve to begin his speech. “You have the floor,” murmured Frelix. “Thank you,” said Sarth softly, clearing his throat and clasping his hands in front of him. “To the esteemed order of the Jal Shey, my name is Sarth Kraen, and this is Cassi Trealus. We are Jedi Knights sent to you with an important message. We are here under grave circumstances. The Jedi Order has been wiped out by the Empire, whom we believe are ruled by the Sith, servants of the dark side returned to seek their revenge. They will come for you next—they are already actively hunting you. We have already seized a ship that was being used by this new government to scout for organizations such as your own. It is only a matter of time before they arrive.” Sarth took a step back, indicating he was done speaking. “So, you bring us a warning?” asked one of the Jal Shey. “Yes, but not just a warning,” Sarth replied. “We also have a proposal, one of unity in these dark times,” Cassi spoke up. “Other comrades have gone to other followers of the Force who have yet to fall under the Empire’s sway with similar offers.” “In light of the danger posed by the Empire, we urge you, and other Force users, to join together, to unite. It’s our only chance of survival,” Sarth said. “Is it? Or is it a way of gathering us all together so we can be easily wiped out once and for all?” spoke up another Jal Shey, skepticism evident in his voice. “Test us with the Force,” Cassi offered. “We are not lying, and even the Empire would not take lightly a large group of Force users, allied in a common cause.” “At any rate, Tokmia is not safe for you anymore,” Sarth told. “The ship we captured was headed here and, once its disappearance is noted, more ships will come.” “We appreciate your warning,” said an aged-looking Balosar. “This place has served us well these past few years, but if it is endangered, we will heed your warning.” There were murmurs of agreement from around the room, but Sarth fidgeted slightly. Nothing had been said about his crucial other part—the part about unification. “And what of our offer?” he asked hesitantly after several seconds. Another Jal Shey, a gravelly-voiced Mon Calamari, fixed his bulbous eyes on Sarth. “You have hardly been convincing in your presentation,” he said. “I do not know of Jedi customs, but the Jal Shey are not so easily swayed.” Sarth took a deep breath to calm himself. He had anticipated some opposition, but was at a loss for an immediate reply to the stern rebuke. Thankfully, Cassi spoke up. “From what I have read about the Jal Shey, I also know that you seek intellectual understanding of the Force, that you are scholars and diplomats seeking to help around the galaxy. Is that correct?” The Balosar nodded slightly. “Largely correct,” she replied. “There are other Force traditions that could benefit from your insight and wisdom,” Cassi told them. “With the Empire hunting down Force users of any kind, it won’t be safe for you to practice your skills openly. In a community of other Force-users, you would be able to do so.” “The Empire is not omnipresent,” countered the Mon Calamari. “And we do not expect constant safety.” Cassi looked around the room, starting to feel overwhelmed. She could feel a number of mental probes stretching out towards her, sensing her words and motivations. The Jal Shey stared at her and Sarth with unflappable evaluating gazes and she felt she was on trial. The material she had read about them indicated they were masters of negotiation and debate and she wondered if she and Sarth were in over their heads. “I would warn you not to underestimate the Empire and its Sith leaders,” Sarth warned him, having finally managed to mentally recover. “The Jedi Order already paid that price, and I personally have seen the Empire using dark-side Force users to carry out its work. The more you openly practice your talents, the more risk you will assume for doing so.” “So instead you would have us hide? What guarantee is there that the Empire will not find us all the more easily, as greater numbers of Force-users are easier to detect all in one place?” Frelix asked. “Our leader, my brother Selu, is familiar with a powerful technique capable of camouflaging a settlement from view with the Force,” Sarth said. “And you are sure of this?” asked a Jal Shey. “I’ve seen him use it,” Sarth replied. “Though he hasn’t tried a settlement, he was able to conceal a starship.” “It’s true,” Cassi added. “The other part of our defense would be hiding on a remote world, somewhere where the Empire wouldn’t look.” “And what makes uniting with these other groups a better prospect than simply finding a remote world of our own, or scattering amongst the stars?” the Balosar inquired. “For one, you would have the added protection of the Force camouflage,” Sarth replied. “For another, your wisdom and insight would benefit the rest of the community. You would be able to use your talents for the betterment of others.” “And you would be able to keep your practices and ways of studying the Force,” Cassi said. “We have no desire to erase the unique history and methods of the Jal Shey.” “Absolutely,” Sarth agreed. “One of the central tenets of the community we are proposing is both unity and mutual respect. We would be unified in common cause—to preserve our order’s heritage in these dark times—but without infringing upon each other’s unique identity and approach to the Force.” “Do you have this refuge already secured?” The pivotal question hung in the air. Sarth kept a straight face, but he knew that his answer would have to be a disappointing one. “Not yet,” he admitted. “And what other Force-users have committed to this idea of unification?” the Mon Calamari asked. “If it just a handful of Jedi, they should join us rather than the other way around.” “Our friends are on missions right now to speak with the Matukai and the Zeison Sha,” Cassi told them. “Others may join as well.” “That is far from a certainty, Jedi Trealus,” Frelix pointed out. “Very little in life is,” Cassi told them. “I know that our proposal seems outlandish and beyond reason. If you had told me four months ago that I would be using the Force and trying to create a refuge to hide from the Empire, I wouldn’t have believed it either.” “Cassi and I were not born Force-sensitive,” Sarth explained. “We were not raised in the Jedi Order. Our gifts were given to us by the spirits of ancient Jedi who showed us how to unlock a repository of Force power. While there, they trained us in the ways of the Force and gave us a vision of uniting other Force-users to hide from the Empire.” “A fantastic story,” the Mon Calamari replied with his gravelly voice, lifting a webbed hand in skepticism. “But hardly moving—or believable.” “It’s true,” Cassi replied firmly. “I couldn’t touch the Force—I’d barely heard of it until a couple years ago.” “You would have us believe that you were given the gift of Force potential by ghosts?” the Balosar asked skeptically. “Think of it logically,” Sarth replied, taking a half-step forward. “There are three possibilities to our story. The first is that we’re lying—but surely we couldn’t fool the combined powers and perceptions of the Jal Shey, could we?” His gaze swept the room. “Many of you have studied and used for the Force for years, particularly in the realm of negotiation. Do you sense deceit in us?” His question was greeted with silence. “No,” the Balosar replied curtly a few several seconds later. “Then the second possibility is that we’re insane or delusional,” Sarth answered. “That we’re being driven by impossible fantasies. Do we sound crazy to you? Do our actions indicate insanity? Put us to the test any way you please—we’re both of sound mind.” “Some would argue that trying to out-negotiate a roomful of Jal Shey is foolish,” Frelix commented dryly. “But not insane. You need not make your third point, Jedi Kraen. If you are neither lying nor insane, then you must be telling the truth.” “And we are,” Cassi insisted. “We would not be here if we didn’t believe that our message was very important.” “We’re concerned for all Force-users,” Sarth agreed. “The Empire will destroy us all if we do not unite. We believe our proposal gives us the best chance of defense.” “Assuming that other Force-users even join in this venture,” the Mon Calamari cut in. Sarth sent him a half-smile. “Somebody has to be first,” he replied. “If you stay here, the Empire will eventually find you. If you go your own way, you may be safe, but you will be unable to exercise your gifts and talents openly. If you join with us, we will do everything we can to hide and protect your order from the Empire—our leader Selu has talents and skills that can help with that. You’ll also be able to use your gifts and wisdom to help guide the new refuge we will build.” “This is a message of desperation,” the Balosar pointed out. “A gamble at best.” “It’s a message of hope,” Cassi replied. “Backed up by a plan.” “A plan without a home,” Frelix answered. “And you have nowhere in mind for us to live? We cannot just leave here with nowhere to go, Jedi Trealus.” “We should contact Selu,” Sarth said. “Perhaps he’s been able to find a place for the refuge.” “The Jal Shey will not consider this proposal without more certainty and detail,” Frelix warned them with sudden finality. “You are welcome to stay here awhile longer, provided you do not disturb the peace. Sarth felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he realized that, just like that, their audience was over. He was completely taken by surprise, but his emotional read confirmed that the Jal Shey were no longer open to further persuasion. The Jal Shey were unmoved by his and Cassi’s entreaties. They had failed. “I understand,” he answered numbly. “Thank you.” “Let me remind you, Jedi Trealus,” the Mon Calamari spoke up suddenly. “Hope is not a plan.” “And a reminder for you,” Sarth answered sharply, coming to Cassi’s defense before she could speak up. “If the Force-users of the galaxy do not stand together, we will be destroyed separately. Even a desperate plan may be wiser than waiting for destruction.” With that, he turned sharply and stalked out of the room. “Thank you again for your consideration,” Cassi said diplomatically in his wake. “Feel free to approach us with any further questions.” She hurried after him as he left the meeting room behind, having to jog to catch up with his brisk pace. “Sarth, are you sure it was wise to end like that?” she asked him. Sarth grimaced. It was so like Cassi, diplomatic and concerned yet also with a gentle rebuke in her voice. She was reproaching him, but softening her tone and words such that they carried little sting. And she was right—he probably had been too harsh in there. Having her point that out to him was humbling, but he could still feel the frustration within him at the way the Jal Shey had abruptly closed out their hearing. “Probably not,” he admitted, still fuming as they left the building and made their way across the snowy walkways back to their quarters. “But we weren’t getting anywhere.” “It is a lot to ask,” she pointed out. “We’re asking them to trust two strangers with their entire order on a plan that isn’t fully developed.” Sarth arched an eyebrow at her. “Whose side are you on?” he asked sharply. “Sarth,” she said firmly, laying a hand on his arm. “This isn’t about sides. You, me, the Jal Shey—we’re all supposed to be on the same side. That’s what our mission is about.” Sarth stopped, feeling the anger well up within him, but he knew she was right, as much as he didn’t feel like admitting it. Recalling the calming exercises Selu had taught him, he ran through one, exhaling deeply. “Sure doesn’t seem like it,” he said. “I don’t know if we’ll even get another chance to make our case.” “Those Force spirits wouldn’t have sent us out here if there was no chance,” Cassi told him. “And what if we already missed that chance?” Sarth asked her. “Then what?” “Then we keep trying,” Cassi replied. “Until we either are called elsewhere or they send us away.” “Or the Empire arrives,” Sarth muttered darkly. Cassi sighed and rolled her eyes. When Sarth got into one of his negative moods, he could be intractably stubborn and pessimistic. It didn’t happen often, but she also knew that further conversation would only leave her mutually irritable. Only time to process and unwind would cure his attitude. “You should get some space,” she advised him. “Get out and clear your head—maybe go to the ship and try and contact Selu.” “What about you?” he asked. “I’ll be fine,” she told him. “I’ll be at the guest residence and somebody needs to stay here to answer questions. Probably better me than you.” “You’re probably right,” Sarth admitted begrudgingly. “I just don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.” “I can take care of myself, Sarth,” Cassi answered. “And trust me, you could use a walk.” Sarth gave her a half-smile. “I could,” he said. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” “If anything happens, you’ll need to bring the Hawk-bat over anyway,” Cassi replied reasonably. “But nothing will happen, right?” Sarth asked. Cassi rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ll be fine, Sarth,” she assured him. “Get your head straightened out, talk to Selu, and I’ll do what I can to persuade the Jal Shey while you’re gone.” “All right,” he said, leaning in for a quick kiss. “I love you.” “I love you too,” she told him. “Even when you’re crabby.”
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