Star Wars: I, Jedi: Star Wars

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Leonia Tavira smiled, then stepped forward one last time. She took my jaw in her hands and pulled my mouth to hers. Her tongue played across my lips, then she kissed me, fully and deeply.

  I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t thrust her away because of the injuries to my hands, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The thrill I had felt before exploded inside of me, running from my loins to my brain and back down, rendering my pain insignificant. I found my nose full of her scent, and could feel each strand of her hair that lashed gently against my cheeks.

  The injuries to my hands were the reason I did not pull her closer.

  My face burned as she pulled away, a victorious smile on her face. She glanced at Elegos. “Take good care of him. I will call upon him in a month for his decision, and if he is not healed, I will return to Kerilt and sterilize the planet.”

  She kissed her fingers and pressed them against my lips. “A month, then all you desire, in your heart and mind, will be yours for the taking.”

  She swept from the room and a few seconds after her departure, the fire in my lungs reminded me that breathing was indeed a necessary part of my continued existence. I greedily sucked in air and snorted it back out, trying to clear her perfume from my nose. I did my best to ball my left fist and smack it against the table, but Elegos caught my wrist and stopped me from doing that as easily as a parent curbing a child’s tantrum.

  He didn’t say anything, but just started washing my left hand. The sting of water and the rasp of the sponge over torn flesh helped bring me back into myself. I wanted to apply a quick Jedi calming technique, but to do so would betray me to Tavira’s advisors. Using such a technique also required more composure than I could muster at the moment.

  There was no denying that I was attracted to Tavira. It was a physical thing, an animal thing, a magnetic attraction of one meat machine to another. I wanted to think of it on that plane alone, as if I were betrayed by the crude matter that trapped my spirit, but I knew that wasn’t the whole story either. There was something in her spirit that I found intriguing. I told myself that what drew me to her was situational—like my attraction to Siolle Tinta or Wedge’s attraction to Qwi. Still, I found something about Tavira absolutely fascinating, which made it difficult to deny the enticement of the flesh.

  What disturbed me more than my feeling of being drawn to her was her analysis of why I hated Remart and why I had done to him what I had. Even when describing the fight to my interrogators, I denied the detail of the damage I had inflicted on him. Kicking him in the stomach, smashing his face, all of that was certainly one way to win a fight with him, but I’d been trained in much quicker and more effective ways to deal with someone like him. Even in our first encounter, a shot to the throat had backed him off. That same blow, delivered more forcefully, could have crushed his windpipe and killed him without a fraction of the damage I’d done to him.

  I looked at my hands and knew I could have easily put him down without cutting myself and breaking bones. I’d known forever that hitting someone in the face was a great way to break a hand, but I did it anyway. I’d hit him there to punish him, and I’d hit him to punish myself. Somewhere, deep down inside, I knew the beating I gave him was wrong. I couldn’t stop myself, so I made myself pay.

  Tavira suggested that I’d hated Remart so much because we were so much alike. I couldn’t believe that, but cold assessment showed me her comparison wasn’t terribly flawed. The necessities of the pirate society had brought out my worst traits. I’d allowed my arrogance and cockiness to run away with me and bring me down to the Invids’ level.

  Remart is what I would have been had I fallen in with the Survivors and not the Rebellion. A chill ran down my spine. It would have been so simple, too, because the Survivors loved the Empire no more than I did when I was on the run. Given no place to hide, I could have easily joined them to strike back at the Empire. Had I not been in a position to eventually join the Rebellion when I ran from Corellia, I might have ended up with the Survivors. Without a moral compass, I would have fallen into the savage and brutal society with absolute abandon, thriving amid the scum I used to hunt.

  I’d not have been Tavira’s consort, she would have been mine.

  I hissed, more at that realization than the sting of the unguent Elegos applied to my hands. I would have been a terror, a Garm bel Iblis, carrying on my own war with the Empire, but without bel Iblis’s nobility to guide my hand. The whole of the galaxy would have been arrayed against me and I would have destroyed them all.

  I would have become what Exar Kun offered to make me.

  “No!”

  Elegos smiled. “The dressing will help the healing, Master.”

  “Not that.” I frowned. “And don’t call me Master. Jenos will work; Captain if you want to be formal.”

  “Very well, Captain.” Elegos elevated my right hand and started to wrap it in steriplast.

  I sighed and let him work. I knew I had been jealous of Remart, and I beat him in a manner such that I destroyed his physical appeal. As nearly as I could sort out, Tavira had been right—I beat him to spoil her fun and punish her for choosing him over me.

  Even accepting that, I knew I’d not let Remart live just so she would kill him. I had not expected that to happen. She was morally bankrupt enough to transform mercy on my part into lethal trickery. I knew others would believe as she did—Caet and Timmser, who probably knew me better than anyone else in the Invids, would clearly accept my being that devious.

  But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t. I frowned. Could I?

  I shivered again and felt an icy viper wriggle through my guts. I could have, definitely. I clung to the fact that I knew I hadn’t.

  But now I had a new dilemma to face. Tavira had given me a month to decide if I would become her consort. I would be taken aboard the Invidious. I would become part of the crew. I would have her confidence. I would be able to learn all of the Invid secrets, and I would even learn where Mirax was held. I would have everything I wanted—my wife back and the means to destroy the Invids.

  In other undercover operations I’d worked before, the delicate matter of physical intimacy with subjects of the investigation had come up and had been handled in a variety of ways. Sometimes another CorSec member, like Iella, would be brought in to play the role of wife or girlfriend. Other times, when going out with a gang and being paired off with someone in the group, getting them drunk enough to incapacitate them, or feigning being that drunk myself provided a way out. Yet other times, claiming to have a girlfriend who knew nothing of my criminal activity would be enough to get folks to leave me alone.

  But there were occasions where a cover story did not suffice. All operatives were told that they needn’t do anything they objected to on a moral or philosophical basis, and we were given assignments that would put the least amount of stress upon us in that regard, but there were times when sleeping with someone was the logical next step in deepening a relationship that would allow the investigation to go further. While I was not wholly comfortable in such situations, neither did I see sex between consenting adults as forbidden unless sanctioned by marriage. Mirax and I had enjoyed each other’s company well before we were married, and she was not the first woman I’d ever taken to bed.

  The few times during investigations when I had slept with a subject were different for me because, in those situations, I had no steady relationship with anyone else. I had no external ties, no understandings or vows that I would be breaking by sleeping with someone. And it struck me that while such connections would have given me another level of concern, they might not have stopped me.

  Mirax was my wife, with whom I had been entirely faithful; yet Tavira was the most direct course to obtaining Mirax’s freedom. It would not be as if I were to fall in love with Tavira—that would not be possible. Physically I might be with her, but emotionally I would have no connection. I would give her what she wanted to put myself in position to get what I wanted. It would be an alliance of co
nvenience, letting me correct the injustice that had been done to my wife.

  It would be so simple. All I would do would be to be with Tavira, to please her and deceive her. She would lead me to my wife. And I would even deny Tavira that which she would want most—my devotion. That would be the goal she had in mind, and I would not surrender that to her. She could have my body, and together, I had no doubts, we would discover and explore vast galaxies of passion, but she would never quite get all that she wanted from me.

  All those thoughts coursing through my brain seemed so obvious and so right, but something screamed in horror at the idea of giving in to them. What would be so easy to do, what would bring me closer, faster to Mirax than anything I’d done so far, would somehow also be wrong. I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to believe it. I even wanted to say the transgression there would be insignificant compared to the good that resulted. My alliance with Tavira would be only one-way—I would get from her what I wanted and deny her the prize she most desired. That was what I would do, and any protest could be damned for being weak.

  I shivered. “I can’t believe I’m thinking this.”

  Elegos tore and knotted off the steriplast bandages on my right hand. “What is that, Captain?”

  I shook my head. “Things I’m considering. Things I must do, but things I almost can’t believe I’m thinking. I can’t be thinking them.”

  The Caamasi nodded slowly. “If you will permit me, we Caamasi have a saying.”

  “Yes?”

  He pressed his hands together contemplatively. “If the wind no longer calls to you, it is time to see if you have forgotten your name.”

  The simple saying hit me like a hammer, and found echoes in my father’s old adage about not recognizing the man in the mirror. I began to tremble. “You’re right. I no longer know who I am.”

  FORTY-ONE

  “Then I would suggest it is time you begin to remember.”

  I laughed. “Easier said than done.”

  He shook his head and began wrapping my left hand. “Not at all. Start from where you are and trace your steps backward until you recognize the last place you knew yourself.” While his advice seemed deceptively naive, something in his voice also suggested it was the only possible solution to my quandary.

  I applied myself to the task, but zeroed in on a shortcut. A liaison with Tavira would be the fastest route to rescuing Mirax, but part of me knew it was wrong. I knew the part of me that opposed the plan bitterly would be a stepping stone back to myself, so I grappled with the reason why accepting Tavira’s offer would be wrong.

  The answer smashed me in the face and left me aghast I’d avoided seeing it. The choice was wrong because I wouldn’t be sleeping with Tavira for Mirax’s sake, I’d be sleeping with her because I wanted to—I was letting the ends justify the means. I was able to wrap up a selfish desire in all sorts of noble and selfless reasons, but the reality was that Tavira’s attraction to me pleased me. I felt flattered. I’d been married to Mirax for just shy of four years and never had the desire to be with another woman, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be thought of as attractive. And Tavira was a desirable woman who could have any of hundreds of men, so for her to choose me, well, that was very special. And for me to have the chance to prove she had chosen correctly, that I was indeed someone very special, that was a meal that could gorge my Hutt-like ego.

  It was of the dark side.

  Those words echoed through my brain in Master Skywalker’s voice, and my understanding of the dark side expanded exponentially. Exar Kun and Darth Vader and the Emperor had made the dark side seem so dynamic and powerful, that recognizing it and refusing it became easy. Here in the Invid society where people acted more like beasts than they did civilized creatures, the line of demarcation between good and evil was not so much blurred as it didn’t always run straight. Each situation had to be approached a little differently, and adjustments had to be made by degrees, or falling over to the dark side became almost casual.

  In the beating I had administered to Remart I’d probably stepped over the line. I had been working in defense of Elegos, his daughter, his people, and even myself. Had I tapped the Force to strengthen me in that fight, I would have been pulling through power dark and terrible. I would have done to Remart things that all the bacta in the galaxy could not have made right, and reveled in his screams as I did it. I would have swept Tavira away. I would have won Mirax her freedom, but only at the expense of all we had ever had together.

  I frowned, then looked up at Elegos. “It all comes down to the nature of evil, doesn’t it? Evil is selfishness, while good is selfless. If I take an action that benefits me, only me, and hurts others, I am evil. If I do what must be done to prevent harm to others, if I become the buffer between them and evil, then my actions will be good.”

  The Caamasi canted his head to the left. “Your intentions will be good. Without consideration and forethought, however, your actions could still be evil. That is the problem, of course, evil is always easy and resisting it is never so. Evil is relentless; and anyone, if they tire, if they are not vigilant, can fall prey to it.”

  My scowl deepened. “And there are situations where opposing evil may result in harm coming to the innocent.”

  “It does happen, yes.” He blinked his big eyes, then settled his hands on my shoulders. “Life is not without pain, but life concerns itself with how we handle that pain, or joy, or confusion or triumph. Life is more than time passing before death, it is the sum and total of all we make of it. Decisions may not be easy, but many is the time when not making a decision, not taking an action is worse than a poor decision. Evil flourishes where it is not opposed, and those who are able to oppose it must to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

  I threw my head back and laughed aloud.

  Elegos watched me with a puzzled expression on his face. “I did not think what I was saying was particularly humorous.”

  “It wasn’t. It’s just that I’ve heard those words before, from my family and friends and even myself.” I smiled at him. “When you introduced yourself to me, you said you were a ‘Trustant’ of your people. That is a position of responsibility and trust?”

  The Caamasi nodded solemnly. “It is most highly regarded among our people.”

  “And do I have your trust?”

  “You do.”

  “So I can trust you in all things, to help me?”

  Elegos again nodded. “I will not be a servant of evil.”

  “That makes two of us.” I nodded to him. “When we get home, I will tell you more.”

  He pressed his hands together again. “I look forward, then, to journey’s end.”

  “Thanks for fixing my hands. And my head.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  I twisted around and lay back on the table, hooking my heels on its edge and letting my hands rest like lumps of lead on my chest. In having quoted back to me things my father and grandfather had said, things I’d heard Wedge say and things I’d told myself and others, I realized who I was. I saw my reflection in the mirror and heard the wind call to me. I had, since before I could remember remembering, always held as the highest possible ideal a commitment to serving others. What I wanted was subordinate to what was good for everyone else. My job was to provide others shelter and shade, to be a fortress against all the cruelty and wantonness out there. Life itself was hard enough without monosynaptic sociopaths preying on folks.

  What I realized right then and there was that I’d made gross errors in how I approached dealing with Mirax’s disappearance. When I joined the Jedi academy, I abandoned much of who I had been. I had a new name, a new look, a new identity and I was learning new things. I was trying to become someone I was not because I believed that only someone more powerful than me, a Jedi, could ever possibly save Mirax.

  When the Jedi academy proved disappointing and I fled, I returned to my roots. I pitched away what I had learned, and even missed what
my grandfather had given me in the information he’d preserved. I even misinterpreted the dream as one predicting disaster if I tried to be a Jedi, but that wasn’t the message of the dream at all. The message of that dream was as simple as it was stark: selflessness is the only antidote to evil. It provides the light that destroys the dark.

  At first I had divorced myself from my CorSec past, then I divorced myself from my Jedi heritage in favor of my CorSec training. I was treating my identities as if CorSec and Jedi were left and right, as if I could possibly function with only one side of my body or the other. I was making half of myself oppose the other half, when I should have integrated both halves.

  I was not Corran Horn of CorSec or Keiran Halcyon, Jedi Knight. I was both of them. I needed to unify myself and my efforts. Certainly, just as my grandfather had described Nejaa often not letting it be known that he was a Jedi, there were times when one approach would work better than the other, but I had to be able to use both if I planned to succeed.

  The Invidious got us back to Courkrus relatively swiftly, and I was shuttled down with Elegos halfway through the unloading of the Survivors’ share of the bounty yielded up by Kerilt’s warehouses. I could have gone down sooner, but I stayed on the Invidious to see to it that my squadron got off in good order, and to find out from Colonel Gurtt what she’d heard in the way of rumors running around through the ship’s crew. She didn’t say she’d heard much, but she recommended I start physical training, aiming to improve my stamina and vigor as much as possible.

  By the time I got down to Vlarnya and to the hotel suite I rated, given my rank, I discovered it had been visited in my absence. A variety of luxury goods had been delivered to my rooms including some century old Savareen brandy in a matching decanter and snifter set. The bottle and the four glasses had been decorated with exotic gemstones, including a Durindfire jewel the size of my thumbnail. Bolts of exotic fabric, statuettes from various worlds and a variety of preserved foodstuffs had been loaded into my rooms, along with a holograph from Tavira wishing me a quick and strong recovery.