DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Princess Vieia Organa and her housekeeper stood on her terrace and watched Alderaan's old sun go down below the gently rolling plains that formed the north west horizon around her country place. Most of the way to the horizon, the land she looked across was her family's, and had been for thousands of years. The two old friends stood comfortably next to each other long after the sun actually disappeared, watching the thickening reds in the sky change to purples and blues. Finally, they turned to go in.
Vieia paused, struck by a thought.
"Mimbri-Samp, is everything in order with the house?"
"Yes, miss."
"Everything everywhere? Nothing unusual at all?"
"Yes, miss."
"Well, that's strange," muttered the Princess.
"Okay, now what?" Valorum, who'd raced onto the ship mere seconds behind the Jedi, was trying to catch his breath while Qui-Gon seemed as if he'd been sitting calmly for hours.
Jinn should have looked less impressive sitting crosslegged on the floor of the small inboard storage area, but somehow he didn't; his youth and his casual posture just disappeared somehow into an aura of Jedi-ness. //Maybe it's the robe.//
The ship's engines rumbled into life beneath them, and they felt it lift off and transition into hyperspace.
Valorum arched his eyebrows. "We just going along for the ride, or do you actually know what's happening here?"
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and extended his Force awareness. "This is the source of the disturbance I felt, but beyond that.... I sense fear, confinement."
"Jinn, we're in the baggage hold of a little bitty ship in the middle of a great big galaxy, flying deep into mystery space with somebody who's already made a sincere and heartfelt effort to kill us. That's my fear and confinement you're sensing."
"No," the Jedi said.
Valorum's adrenaline rush was beginning to turn into an irritation rush. "So what's your plan?"
"To await developments."
Valorum slumped back in disbelief. //How many times do the Jedi Rules let him say that in one day?//
"You looked everywhere?"
"Yes, miss," Mimbri-Samp said patiently. "Everything fine, everywhere. So explain, please?"
As old as Vieia was, Mimbri-Samp was even older. Though Vieia was now at the top of five living generations of Organas, and Mimbri-Samp was now officially chief of a staff of over two hundred people, when they were alone together, Mimbri claimed a former nanny's privilege of continuing to address the Princess as if she were still a willful child. In turn, Princess Vieia privately continued to regard her chief of staff as a kind of large white teddy bear with a ferocious eye for detail. Four ferocious eyes, actually. And as the single most reliable person in a wildly unreliable universe.
"Saxa Hoya was here today."
"Mhm." The huge white teddy bear's face suddenly bore a satisfied expression. Vieia was right: something, somewhere, should have been wrong in the house or grounds.
Saxa Hoya, better known these days as Dowager Grand Duchess Surie of Kessurie, had been young Vieia Organa's best school friend. Unlike the Organas, Saxa's family actually ruled their home system. Vieia, with her natural Organa tendency to take all royalty lightly, especially her own, had been a good influence on the other girl. Privately, Mimbri-Samp thought that the people of Saxa's planet had no idea how much they owed the Princess from Alderaan, because Saxa had seemed like a budding tyrant to her -- you could always tell from how they treated the servants, even at a very young age.
At school, the two little girls had enjoyed pulling pranks on each other, a practice that survived the decades to become a cherished tradition.
Saxa Hoya's favorite weapon was pink: Vieia had hated the color since before she could talk. The Grand Duchess had once managed to have the main approach path to the villa planted out by a licensed environmental sculptor in a thousand species of pink flowers and grasses, knowing perfectly well that Alderaan's highly protective cultural laws would prevent Vieia from pulling the plants out. For five long years -- the standard permit term for an environmental sculpture -- Princess Vieia saw pink every time she flew in and out of her house.
In turn, Vieia's favorite trick was to prey upon Saxa's exaggerated sense of propriety. Vieia's lifetime best, Mimbri-Samp thought, was the time she'd managed to beam a nude holograph into the Grand Duchess's Tea Ceremony for a conclave of bishops from the High Church of Kessurie. A dancing nude holograph. A gyrating, twisting, contorting-in-ways-you-didn't-think-were- possible-even-for-double-jointed-people, utterly and exuberantly obscene dancing nude holograph.
By unspoken consent, the deadline was sundown on the day of the visitor's departure. Mimbri-Samp smiled to herself and decided to have the staff search through the villa and grounds one more time.
//Await developments.// Valorum's was a naturally active and rather intense personality; the Jedi's easy stillness grated on his nerves.
Finis counted to a hundred. Then he counted to a hundred again. Then he looked in every container he could open. No blaster, no weapon of any kind. Just lots and lots of girly paraphernalia, which ordinarily would have delighted him, but today it filled him with frustration. Whoever they were, these ladies weren't packing anything more dangerous than a manicure set.
He counted to a hundred again.
As far as he could tell, the Jedi was passing the time meditating. Or maybe taking a nap. Valorum wondered if somehow Jinn knew a whole lot about the situation that he didn't, or, alternatively, if there was some way you could fire a Jedi.
"So has anything developed yet?"
The Jedi's eyes opened, but no other part of him moved.
Valorum's tension grew. "I don't like awaiting developments, Jinn. It's poor tactics. The development usually is that the other guy kicks your ass up around your tonsils while you're busy awaiting."
The Jedi didn't answer. His head was tilted like an animal sniffing the wind for prey. His eyes were focused nowhere.
"Jinn, sooner or later these people are going to wonder why their luggage is talking." The words came out between clenched teeth.
"Then quit talking," the Jedi said calmly.
Valorum imploded.
Qui-Gon was trying to focus on his Force-sense, hoping it would tell him what was happening elsewhere in the ship. He felt the growing fire of Valorum's anger turn to ice, and was relieved with one corner of his mind, worrying less about the deputy minister shouting or doing something else that would give their presence away.
It was a mistake Qui-Gon would never make again.
Valorum stood up and stretched lazily, even luxuriously, for long seconds, then combed his fingers through his thick black hair, pulled his tunic straight and brushed as much grime as he could off it. He leaned against a bulkhead, seeming as oblivious of the deeply concentrating Jedi as Jinn appeared to be of him.
His manner turned casual, even frivolous. "Hey, Jinn, you know what? This is a consular ship. There shouldn't be anything remotely wrong on it -- hell, there shouldn't be anything remotely interesting on it, with the possible exception of some high class brandy and a pretty young creature or two. And if there shouldn't be anything wrong," he threw his arms wide and beamed, "why then, there isn't anything wrong."
The Jedi barely spared him a glance.
Jinn wanted him to shut up, Finis knew. Well, he was about to get his wish. //The Colonel always said your deadliest weapon is the one between your ears.//
Valorum winked at Qui-Gon. "Yeah, I bet you don't play sabacc, either. Well, fuck you."
The Jedi refocused on his immediate surroundings, but Valorum was already gone, keying open the storage room door and moving into the body of the ship too fast for the Jedi to stop him without creating additional noise.
Qui-Gon heard him stride confidently into plain view, moving forward through the ship until he found someone.
His voice filtered back through the ship. It was a politician's campaign voice, hearty and overly sincere. "Hi, there... Finis Valorum, deputy Third Minister. Is there some way I can help you?"
There was a small scuffling sound, and then Valorum's politician voice again. "No need to be rude there, big fellow. I never say no to a blaster."
//One adversary amidships, armed. Human-size or bigger.//
There were more, Jinn could feel. There was opposition, fear.... But there was no more time to reflect. Valorum was continuing his pose, asking to be taken to someone of higher authority. Qui-Gon had to move as well.
The Prime Minister of Alderaan was in his luxurious office in Aldera, sitting back in his large, hand-fitted chair, conferring with his top staff. Appointments were listed on his datapad for every hour well into the night, and people hopeful of slipping in between meetings were all but stacked on top of each other in his outer offices.
When he heard who it was, he took the call.
"Good evening, Prime Minister. Would you be good enough to locate a private transport for me? Scheduled to leave about an hour ago, I should think."
He frowned and rolled his eyes. The ministers conferring with him gave him conspiratorial grins.
"Princess, I'm afraid I'm very busy just now," he said politely.
The voice at the other end of the com channel grew testy. "Well, I'm afraid I'm very old, which trumps busy. Find Saxa Hoya's barge or find me someone who can."
The Prime Minister grimaced. His subordinates were studiously looking elsewhere. "Yes, granna," he sighed.
It was short for great-aunt. Vieia Organa was nearly one hundred standard years old. On the whole, she was content to let the worlds, including her own, come to her, but she was also the doyenne of a large and well-placed family. If she needed something, she used a relative to summon it for her. If the relative refused, she used another relative to get even. It was a deadly, and entirely effective, system.
"Oh, and another little thing -- another little ship, actually..." She detailed her second query.
"Yes, granna," the Prime Minister repeated dully.
The Princess was suddenly all warmth. "Thank you. You're a dear boy. Give my love to Saja and young Bail."
As a military pilot, Valorum had been in firefights with pirates. He knew what it felt like to be shot at.
It was not at all like standing in the middle of a big comfy transport with a blaster in your back and your hands clasped tightly on top of your head. He didn't feel so much afraid as acutely embarrassed.
The good news was, he was pretty sure there were only two hijackers, since he'd been dragged to the cockpit and no one had gone back to see if someone else was on board. His mind was racing -- the hijacker seemed to be an Ete, the ship furnished in Kessurie taste.
The obvious guess was kidnap for ransom. Someone rich had to be on this ship, rich and also influential enough to have the use of a diplomatic transport. Using diplomatic credentials to go on a shopping trip to Alderaan was a time-honored way to beat local import taxes on luxuries all over the galaxy.
But if this hijack did indeed involve Kessurie and Ete, there might be another possibility.
They were neighboring planets in the Kess system -- and, like so many neighbors, long and bitter enemies. Kessurie was much richer than Ete, which was officially a royal protectorate. There was an independence movement on Ete which had led to open warfare several times in recent centuries, with quiet intervals that were officially peacetime but were really periods of sporadic terrorism. Kessurie, still a monarchic system, did not want to give up its colony. Ete was rich in manganese, and Kessurie had next to none.
Still, it was probably just about money. Most crimes were.
What to say to these guys? He could negotiate the stuffing out of inter-system trade treaties, but hostage negotiation was a speciality he didn't really know much about.
//No, make that, that I don't know anything about,// he thought. //Especially from the point of view of being the hostage.// His natural inclination was to start with a joke --'I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here today' -- but that would probably get him killed. Time was passing fast.... he had to start talking soon if he was going to acquire any leverage here.
//If nothing should be wrong, why then, nothing is wrong.// He addressed his words to the pilot, still using his cheerful-and-rather-dim bureaucrat voice.
"Gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry to have intruded on you like this. I didn't mean to stay aboard until liftoff. As I told your colleague here," he gestured with one elbow to the gunman, "I'm Deputy Third Minister Finis Valorum." He started to take one hand off his head to offer it for shaking, but got a jab in the back from the blaster that changed his mind.
"You see, I happened to be passing by during your flight prep, and got the impression there might be a bit of difficulty aboard. I simply meant to step aboard for a moment and offer my services. Since this is a consular vessel, I thought perhaps you were having some difficulty with the Alderaanians, so I thought perhaps the mediation of a Republic --"
The Ete behind him jabbed the blaster into his ribs again.
The pilot was concentrating on his board -- nursing it, Finis noticed, for every ounce of speed he could get from the hyperdrive, constantly tinkering with the mix and flux in the engines. Wherever he was going, he was in a terrible hurry to get there.
"No? Well, in that case, it only remains for me to beg your pardon most humbly for stowing away, as it were." He threw in one of his best ingratiating smiles, but neither Ete was looking at him. "Under these circumstances, I would be extremely grateful if we could just nip back to Alderaan and let me off."
Finis rather liked that last bit -- why not ask for the stupidest thing possible? Maybe there was even a tiny chance they'd go for it, just to get rid of him. Then again....//They've already killed one official. They aren't going to balk at killing me. Still, in for a fennik, in for a cred....//
"The most convenient thing would be if you could drop me back at Crevasse City, since that's where I left my ride." Another big, dumb, happy smile.
This one netted him a jab in the neck.
And then the pressure was gone from his back. From the corner of his eye, Valorum noticed that the Ete was reacting to something behind him, twisting his body around, shifting the blaster....
Finis never saw anything happen, only heard a sudden hissing hum. The cockpit lit up with a split second's reflection of intense green light. He rapidly faced forward again with a blank face. //The lightsaber, that was Jinn....// But there were no further sounds, and Jinn didn't come into the cockpit. He started to step backward--
The pilot slapped the autopilot on and turned around with a blaster in Valorum's belly. He stopped.
//Not much of an improvement,// Finis reflected.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" //Jinn .... Jinn? This guy is about to shoot me, Jinn.//
"*Gerhall.... pou vestees? Parashah?*" Valorum didn't recognize the language, but it wasn't hard to guess that it was "hey, you there?" in hijackerese.
The man put his blaster to Valorum's head and pushed him out of the cockpit.
To the surprise of both, there was nothing in the ship's salon to indicate that anyone else had ever been there. //The guy had a blaster, Jinn had his lightsaber....// But there wasn't so much as a pillow out of place.
"*Gerhall, servah shimanoh?*" They shuffled forward, the hijacker holding the minister in front of him with the blaster point nestled in his ear.
"*Shim ha, Gerhall?*"
They made a complete tour of the ship, examining every compartment that wasn't sealed from their side of the door, including the baggage hold. There was no sign of either the Ete or the Jedi.
Eventually they shuffled back to the cockpit. The hijacker pushed Valorum into the copilot's chair, with the blaster in one hand on his lap, pointing into Valorum's belly. He returned to flying manually through hyperspace, pushing the ship's capability to the maximum. //Why is he in such a desperate hurry?// But busy as he was, the pilot never took his eyes off Finis long enough for the minister to try anything.
Time passed. Valorum tried his diplomatic patter again -- if he couldn't negotiate a resolution, maybe he could bore the man to sleep. Neither happened. //Did Jinn and that Ete guy both go out an airlock or what?//
"My arms are getting numb, you know," Finis said finally, beginning to unlace his fingers on top of his head.
"*Sheh,*" the Ete said, wiggling the blaster. Valorum had no trouble figuring out that this was hijackerese for "Shut up or I'll shoot you."
He took the chance. "You know," he continued cheerfully, "I'm sure that if we all sit down and reason together, we can work this out." //Whatever this is..... ransom, revolution, runaway bride?//
He dropped a little of his ignorance and allowed a bit more intelligence to creep into his voice. "After all, Ete and Kessurie have sustained a mutually advantangeous relationship for oh, sixty standard years. I'm sure we--"
Valorum never finished his sentence. Suddenly alarmed and ready to shoot, the pilot went for his weapon, and then Jinn was there.
Everything happened in slow motion: the Ete pilot lifting his blaster, Valorum raising his foot to kick it, and the Jedi's lightsaber sweeping down to destroy the weapon--
It was over in an instant, but Finis would never forget the sight of the long green beam jerking sideways just in time to avoid slicing his leg off in the split second before the Jedi deactivated it.
Valorum's kick connected and the blaster bolt went wild, hitting the cockpit controls and throwing up a shower of sparks. Before the pilot could fire again, Qui-Gon backhanded him hard with his left hand, knocking him groggy, and closed his right hand on the pilot's, stripping the blaster out of it. The Jedi had yanked the Ete out of his chair and slammed him against a bulkhead by the time Valorum finished standing up.
"Where is she?" Jinn said harshly. "Where is your hostage?"
Valorum's eyes snapped sideways for an instant. //"She" who?//
There was no answer. Rather than level the blaster he was holding, the Jedi simply leaned forward slightly and touched the backs of his fingers to the man's throat.
"Conference room," the man said sulkily. "Sealed in." He pointed. "There."
"How many others?"
"Just us."
Qui-Gon's expression didn't change. If anything, it was more frightening now than before.
//It's a lie,// Valorum guessed. So why wasn't Jinn choking the truth out of the guy? Maybe he was supposed to help.
"You're lying," Finis snarled in his best holovid manner.
"He's not." It was Jinn, though his frown was still fierce.
//Teamwork, Jinn,// Valorum thought in exasperation. //You're supposed to say, 'Let's give him one more chance before I blast him,' not make your wingman look like an idiot.//
"Move." The Jedi indicated the luggage hold where they'd hidden. "Get in." Once the Ete was inside, he raised the blaster he'd taken and shot out the door controls, then tossed it carelessly to Finis.
Jinn pointed at the cockpit. "Fly," he said and turned away.
Finis stared at him. "You fly. I'm the diplomat," he said.
The Jedi looked back at him for a split second. His eyes were like solid rock. Was it a threat? It could have been. The sense of strangeness touched Valorum again; he shook his head and left for the cockpit, furious but not willing to have some kind of stupid argument with a Jedi in the middle of thwarting a hijack.
His mood was not destined to improve. Finis rapidly discovered that flying the transport was going to be a very different experience than piloting the Redrunner.
This ship was so heavily automated that first thing he had to do was ask it to tell him where he was, and then where he was going. It was rather a humbling procedure for someone who'd been hand-flying a slick little combat boat that morning. He began to be retroactively impressed by the Ete pilot's fussy flying -- this ship was a bitch to control, let alone coax into maximum performance. Even once it had agreed to listen to him -- and grudgingly given him its name, Gossamer Swan, and that of the elderly royal it was assigned to transport -- Finis had no choice but to wait long minutes for the ship to agree that it was okay to come out of hyperspace mid-trip.
He occupied the time staring idly out at the meaningless streaks of light flaring past the canopy. //So this is a 'disturbance in the Force,'// he mused. //Kidnap, murder, runaway bride?// Okay, probably not runaway bride -- //anyone called 'Dowager' is likely to be past the age of clandestine elopements.//
Then, in the midst of the quiet, he heard the lightsaber ignite again.
Grabbing the blaster, he followed the sound, ran around a corner -- and stopped short when he saw the Jedi carving a door within a door at the end of a short corridor.
Intent on his work, Jinn never noticed Valorum was there. The young minister watched in amazement as the Jedi used his weapon to reduce part of the doorframe to slag.
//Oh hell, if I were kidnapped royalty, I'd rather see a Jedi than a deputy minister, too.// Shaking his head, he returned to the cockpit. //And for sure I couldn't carve my way through a blast door.// He laughed to himself, picturing the Ete in storage hold searching through the baggage as he had done earlier. //Not with a manicure set, anyway.//
As if rewarding his good humor, the Gossamer Swan finally announced that it had decided that it could surrender itself to his manual control, and furthermore was willing to answer any questions he might put to it. He grinned to himself and settled down to his task, dropping into ordinary space and programming a galactic U-turn back to the friendly skies of Alderaan.
By mid-evening, the Prime Minister was so tired of other politicians that he actually welcomed a reason to take a break between meetings.
Of course, that assumed Princess Vieia wasn't a politician, which anyone who’d ever been in her way knew damn well was a manifestly false assumption.... But he loved the old bird. They all did. Yielding to an impulse to see her face, he activated the holo, and waited patiently through the minutes it took her to decide she was presentable.
"Aunt Vieia, the Air Min says it's located the Gossamer Swan. Apparently she dropped out of hyperspace near Xanx system and did a 180. Now she's inbound again, without a filed flight plan. The thing is, we can't raise her. She's simply not responding to communication; there's no way to tell if she's even hearing us."
"Hmmm," said the Princess.
"The other one, the Coruscant ship, is still on the ground at CC. It was supposed to leave today, but no fixed time. So does that satisfy your interest in the state of contemporary space traffic? What's your interest in a Redrunner, anyway?"
"Its occupants were to have been my guests this evening," she said regally.
"And they were....."
"Young Finis Valorum and a Jedi Knight named Qui-Gon Jinn," she said. "They were to have been at the villa for dinner."
"Your dinner guests and your oldest friend have all gone astray? Let me guess, you think they're all aboard the Gossamer Swan together?"
The Princess pursed her lips.
The Prime Minister rubbed his eyes, and chuckled. "Tell me, aunt, what were you planning to serve? It must have been pretty awful if a Grand Duchess, a Valorum, and a Jedi all ran away from it. Or perhaps they've started an interstellar love nest? How rude of them not to invite you along...."
"You are extremely amusing," Vieia said acidly. "I believe I'd like to ask one more favor, then, nephew. If you would be so kind, of course," she added with mock supplication.
Her nephew smiled. "Of course I’ll be so kind," he replied, with an equally false magnanimity. "Name it."
After a short while, the Jedi appeared in the cockpit. His face still wore a deep scowl, and his voice was still peremptory. "Go speak to them," he said briefly, settling into the co-pilot's seat.
Valorum glanced at him. "Them who?" he said. "Dowager Grand Duchess Surie of Kessurie? The ship says that's who it brought to Alderaan."
"And numerous ladies in waiting," said the Jedi. "They're all fine, just a bit nervous. Go talk to them."
Valorum nodded. "We're about an hour out of Alderaan. The com panel is toast from that blaster bolt, though, so no one knows we're coming. What did you tell them, anyway?"
"That they were safe," the Jedi said shortly. His frown seemed, if anything, even more intense than before.
//Not inscrutable, but strange.// Finis decided to ask about it. "You're still looking pretty grim, Jinn. What's not to be happy about? Unless I missed something, the good guys won."
The Jedi simply scowled at him.
"Well, if you're so worried, why don't you stay back there with the Grand Duchess?" He paused. "Uh, and the ladies?"
Less scowl, more cold authority. "Go and talk to them, Deputy Minister."
Despite his renewed irritation at Jinn, Valorum grinned. //'And numerous ladies in waiting,' eh? A pack of gabbling royal retainers -- no wonder Jinn would rather fly the ship.//
"You know, Jinn, if you keep frowning like that, your face is going to freeze in that position. At least, that's what my grandmother always told me," he said. The Jedi shot another cool glance at him, and Valorum left the cockpit laughing.
"Look, I know you want what you want, but this is serious, granna." The Prime Minister sounded puzzled, but sure of his facts. "Ald Sec won't clear it."
"Ald Sec won't clear it," she repeated levelly. "Are you, or are you not, Prime Minister?"
Her great nephew sighed wearily. He knew exactly where this was going, and he knew exactly how it would end. On the whole, he thought, the planet Alderaan should just be grateful that Vieia had never aspired to be an absolute despot. After a second, he added mentally, //at least not officially.//
He decided to skip the intermediate stages. "Okay. You win."
There was a long pause while the two Organas looked at each other's flickering blue images.
The Prime Minister folded his arms and drew a long breath. "Granna, what do you actually know about this?"
The Princess smiled benevolently. "Much less than you think, though I know you won't believe me."
"How could I?" Her great nephew's smile was weary. "You lie so well."
His flattery was rewarded with a broad, wrinkly smile. "Well, dear boy, you were rather an apt pupil yourself. Look where you are now, after all."
One Grand Duchess and fourteen beautiful young ladies-in-waiting with nothing substantial to do, getting over a bit of a shock -- Finis could think of many worse ways to pass an hour. They seemed very relaxed, despite what had happened, full of everyday gabble and delighted to have a fresh audience. Surely a brief conversation with Qui-Gon Jinn couldn't account for all that female contentedness, Valorum thought. If anything, Jinn would have made them more nervous than they were already. The hijack simply must have started and ended too fast for real terror to set in.
The Gossamer Swan slid easily back into regular space, and almost immediately experienced a bump.
Finis Valorum interrupted his pleasurable activity of gathering Kessurie court gossip to return to the cockpit.
Unlike the ladies in waiting, the Jedi didn't look the least bit relaxed.
"Jinn, that was a tractor beam grabbing onto us."
"Yes."
"And we seem to have an escort."
"Yes."
Valorum peered out the cockpit canopy. Two small ships now flanked the Swan, presumably originating from the tractoring ship. They bore no identifying markings. He couldn't see the tractor itself.
"So are these bad guys?"
"They are what they say they are," Qui-Gon returned.
"What-do-they-say-they-are?" Valorum said through gritted teeth.
"I don't know."
"We're being tractored in like a grain barge, and you haven't asked who by?" //What do they teach you at that Temple? Hold on, I know.... 'Wait. Wait. Wait some more.'//
"Com is still inoperative," the Jedi said calmly.
"So how--"
"I sensed that they were attempting to communicate with us, and that they were telling the truth."
"Well, that clears that right up," snapped Valorum. "You know, it's not completely impossible that our little friends on this ship had other little friends on the planet, and that we are being landed so that we can get shot at some more."
"Even if that were so," the Jedi answered coolly, "there would be little we could do about it now. But I do not think that is so -- these people are who they said they were."
Valorum's voice turned bitter. "We're being landed by deeply sincere assassins. What a fucking comfort." He stalked out of the cockpit.
Finis would have been happy to pick up the gossip where he left off, but Jinn followed him into the conference room and immediately took charge of the situation in a businesslike manner.
"We have been taken in tow and will be landing shortly. If you will come this way--"
The Grand Duchess rose to approach the Jedi. Her retinue automatically all rose with her, but hung back as Jinn addressed her personally.
"I believe the best course is to evacuate the ship and turn it over to the authorities. You should leave the ship as soon as we land, Your Grace."
//Hah! A mistake!// Finis thought with amused malice. This particular Duchess was not a Your Grace. //So he isn't completely perfect.//
He darted a glance at the ladies in waiting to see how they reacted to the Jedi's faux pas, but none of them seemed to care. They were collecting themselves, holding back deferentially so the Grand Duchess could leave before them, milling about.
One of them was working her way forward to the front of group, the one Finis thought was the prettiest of them all. She noticed him looking and gave him a small, flirtatious smile. //Maybe she'd like to get together,// he thought fleetingly, but the girl's eyes had shifted to the old lady she served. Finis followed her gaze.
Jinn was escorting the Duchess to the debarcation area; apparently he really did want her off the ship the minute they were on the ground. The Jedi was bowing slightly, extending his hand formally toward the door opening he had carved. The Grand Duchess stumped forward in her slow, shuffling gait and the Jedi fell in step behind her --
And there again was that flash of green light.
A meter of pure energy cutting an arc through the air, the blade was the only clear thing in the blur of robes and hair as Jinn whirled and slashed, turning a full circle at incredible speed, his arm extending the lightsaber to the very limit of its reach -- and then it was over, his robes were settling, and Jinn was standing with empty hands again, looking briefly over his shoulder at the beautiful lady in waiting, who was herself staring at--
--the floor. At the floor, where something lay on the carpet. And now everyone was staring at the floor, at the beautiful girl's beautiful hand, its fingers still curled around a tiny needle-beam blaster.
Jinn was the only one who was not frozen in shock. He had already looked away from the disaster, moved behind the Grand Duchess, and was continuing to steer her out of the room, carefully supporting her as she passed through the opening he'd cut in the jammed outer door.
The old Duchess herself was only now beginning to realize that something had happened. She turned back a bit, but Qui-Gon's large figure barred her view of the scene. Her voice filtered back to the conference room, completely unruffled and only mildly curious. "Knight Jinn, what was that light?"
"Nothing to be concerned about, Your Grace," Qui-Gon said in a casual, soothing voice. "Let's go outside now."
//'Nothing to be concerned about?'// Finis pulled his eyes away from the horror to stare at the Jedi's back. As if feeling it, Qui-gon looked around for a moment and met his gaze.
The grimness had at last gone out of Jinn's face, to be replaced by something like sorrow.
//I couldn't have done that,// Valorum thought. //I probably wouldn't even have seen the threat.// Had Jinn seen it or sensed it? Was this another Force thing? Were his reactions that fast?
Finis remembered the seeming ballet between the Jedi and the blaster bolts when they were ambushed -- was it only a few hours ago? //The way he moves, 'reaction' isn't even the right word for it,// he thought, then turned back to the ladies in waiting.
They had all moved as far away as possible from that one most beautiful girl. She stood alone over the severed part of her hand, then stooped and picked it up, almost furtively. Even knowing what she was, Valorum couldn't help feeling pity for her -- there was always something tragic about the mutilation of beauty. And one corner of his mind was recognizing that the problem was even more complicated than he'd imagined, and was still trying to figure out what exactly he and Jinn had accidentally stumbled into.
//There's so little blood,// Finis thought, then realized, //but this is a burn, not a cut. It needs oxygen and salve... she could go into shock...//
With that thought, his military training took over. Without really having to think about it, he began issuing orders -- summoning a droid to sensor-search the remaining ladies in waiting, organize the evacuation of the ship, and arrange some first aid for the injured would-be assassin.
Minutes later, they felt the craft settle into the wallowing motion of its landing. Valorum peered out a window. They were out in the middle of nowhere, though the island city of Aldera was visible in the distance. Here, though, there was only a huge building topped by a big, anonymous landing pad with several racks of personal scooters and a few landspeeders.
Valorum drew his blaster and took a position at the ready, half- crouched to one side of the loading ramp door.
"There are no hostile intentions here," Jinn said mildly.
"Yeah, sure. Better safe than sorry." Valorum triggered the loading ramp then stood back. After a moment, he ducked his head and the cocked blaster around the side of the open door.
A small white-robed figure stood at the skirts of the landing zone.
"Hullo, child," said Princess Vieia. "I'm afraid you're wanted for murder, so I thought perhaps I should have you brought here."