ACROSS THE STARS
Chapter Two
"It’s good that you changed
the entry code to your apartment, but don’t rely on it too strongly. There are
plenty of ways to bypass it, and some beings don’t need the code at all—they’ll
simply break through the door or use the Force or other means to open the
lock."
Maira looked at Ruth seriously,
wondering just how much protection the wife of the late Senator thought the
Jedi could give them. She and Jack were up to the task, she was certain, but if
more pressing matters came up in the galaxy and there was no one else to handle
them, they would be called away. They couldn’t protect them indefinitely—and
there was no telling how long the threat would last. Some beings had to remain
in hiding for decades, centuries even—though certainly not so long for humans,
who rarely lived more than a century or two, if that—but the threat of
assassination could last for a very long time. The Bukater women needed to be
able to provide their own security, to defend themselves—and by more than
chance, as Rosé’s defense of her mother and herself had been.
Still, now was not the time to
discuss that with them. Ruth had informed her that she had guests coming to
dinner—the Nem representative of Arcadia, Cina, and Rosé’s betrothed, Caledon
Hockley, who hoped to follow in her father’s footsteps and become the Arcadian
Senator. Maira had informed Jack, and both were on the lookout for changelings
or others who might disguise themselves as the guests.
Maira looked up as the door to
Rosé’s room slid open and the girl stepped out, dressed in an elegant evening
gown with her curls pinned up elaborately beneath a silver hair cage. She had
applied the dazzling makeup required for the occasion, but underneath it, she
still looked pale, drawn, and sad, and her expression only became more
sorrowful as she stopped before the table on which her father’s holo and the
ceremonial candles rested. Bowing her head, she made a brief gesture that Maira
recognized as the Nem sign for mourning.
Rosé nodded briefly to both Jedi,
her eyes lingering on Jack, who was checking the security cameras Ruth had
ordered installed just that afternoon. Then, without a word, she turned back to
the window, staring out over the darkening city.
The door’s chime rang just a few
moments later, announcing the arrival of one of the guests. Ruth nodded to
Maira, allowing her to answer the door and ascertain who was there before
letting them in.
Two minutes later, Cina walked
in. The Nem representative was short, perhaps four and half feet tall, and
sturdily built, barrel-chested, slightly bow-legged, short-necked, and with a
jutting, prominent face that set her apart from the other humans in the room.
Her elaborate gown, though made just for her, seemed to fit awkwardly on her
short figure, and the slightly worn, beaded amulet she wore around her neck
didn’t quite match the rest of her elaborate clothing. Nevertheless, the amulet
was her most prized possession, and she wouldn’t have parted with it for all
the wealth of the galaxy.
Rosé turned when she saw Cina
approaching. Stepping away from the window, she knelt before her in the
traditional greeting practiced by both her own people, the Parni, and the Nem,
the earliest and most ancient inhabitants of Arcadia.
Cina knelt, too, grasping Rosé’s
hands, then stood, standing slightly taller than Rosé’s kneeling form. She
reached out and embraced the girl, patting her gently on the back.
"Rosé," she murmured,
the word almost unrecognizable in her guttural voice. She stepped back, her
hands moving in elaborate gestures that took the place of the words the Nem
found so difficult to speak. "I sorrow for your loss," she gestured,
speaking only a few brief syllables that sounded most like the sounds of an
animal than those of a human. "Cleon was a good man, one of the best
leaders I have known. It gives me joy to see you alive and well after the
second attempt yesterday."
"My thanks, Cina," Rosé
gestured back, though her lips trembled and she refused to meet the woman’s
eyes. "I am only glad that you were not a target, also."
Rosé got to her feet, turning to
face the two Jedi who were standing discreetly nearby. "I apologize for
not introducing her already. This is Cina of the Lion Clan, the Nem
representative of Arcadia in the Senate. She understands Basic, but like most
Nem, cannot speak it. If you need to speak to her, I can translate. I know the
Nem sign language."
"Thank you," Maira
replied, "but I know it, too. My first Padawan, Lati, was Nem. She was
able to speak a little Basic, but not much."
"I know Lati," Cina
gestured. "It was a proud day for the Nem when she returned to Arcadia to
stay and serve as an on-planet negotiator between our people and the
Parni."
"Yes," Maira agreed.
"Negotiation was always one of her strongest points, though she was
skilled with a lightsaber when that failed." She turned to her confused
Padawan, quickly explaining what Cina had said, then turned back to Cina and
Rosé. "I know the Nem language well, but Jack does not. You may need to
translate for him if I am not present."
The door chime sounded again, and
Maira nodded respectfully to Rosé and Cina, then went to answer the door again.
Even before she opened it, she could sense the man on the other side and knew
who he was—Caledon Hockley, former Jedi trainee, needed no special
identification.
She opened the door to let him
in, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the arrogant Senatorial aide.
Now thirty years old, he had been brought to the Temple as an infant to be
raised as a Jedi, but his chronic bad temper and arrogance had cost him dearly,
and he had never been selected as a Padawan. On his thirteenth birthday, he had
been sent back to his family on Arcadia, per the agreement made when he had
been brought to the Temple. Maira had been away on a mission when he was sent
back to his family, but she still remembered him—his intolerance of smaller
children, including the boy who later became her Padawan, Jack, was well-known,
and he had once angrily attempted to Force-push Master Yoda across a hallway.
The attempt had done no more than annoy the ancient Jedi Master, but it had
cost the boy any chance he might have had of finding a Master.
Now, as he pushed past her
dismissively and ignored Jack altogether, she sensed that he hadn’t changed
much. If anything, his arrogance had grown more intense since he had been
returned to his family.
Caledon walked up Rosé, pointedly
snubbing Cina, who gestured something decidedly unflattering behind his back,
and gave her a quick kiss. Neither Maira nor Jack missed the way that Rosé
flinched slightly at the gesture, backing away almost imperceptibly, but Ruth
beamed.
"Rosé, sweetpea, you didn’t
need to bring the Jedi into this. I can hire all the security you need."
Caledon took Rosé’s hand, not noticing her fake smile or the way she tried to
edge away from him.
"It was Mother’s idea,
actually." Rosé pulled her hand away. "She wants those behind the
assassination caught as quickly as possible."
Caledon scowled slightly at her
words, but covered it swiftly. He moved quickly to Ruth, kissing her hand with
a flourish, then tossed his cloak to TC-16, almost covering the protocol
droid’s head. Maira knew that the droid had no real emotions, but she could
swear the TC-16’s posture was indignant as it turned to hang up the cloak.
About half an hour later, the
party sat down to dinner. TC-16 served Maira and Jack, but they were relegated
to a small table out of the way of the Bukaters and their guests, though not so
far that they couldn’t be there almost immediately if trouble presented itself.
The two Jedi listened discreetly to the conversation at the table, searching
for any clues that might present themselves.
/Master?/
/Yes, Jack?/
/The Senatorial aide, Caledon
Hockley—he seems familiar for some reason/
/He was at the Temple until
the age of thirteen, but was never chosen as a Padawan/
/Did I know him?/
/He threw you into a Temple
pool when you were two years old and got in his way/
/No wonder I don’t like him/
/Don’t judge him, Padawan.
That was over eighteen years ago/
/You don’t like him, either/
/What makes you think that?/
/I can feel your dislike
through our bond, even though you try to shield it. There’s something about him
that doesn’t seem…right/
/The Council thought the
same…that’s why he was sent back to his family on Arcadia when he turned
thirteen/
/He doesn’t like Jedi/
/That certainly seems to be
the case/
/I don’t think Cina or
Mistress Rosé like him, either. Even I recognized the gesture Cina made when he
snubbed her/
/Be nice, Padawan/
/And Mistress Rosé flinched
when he kissed her/
/She does seem unhappy, but it
could be for any number of reasons. Her father died recently, and yesterday she
killed two would-be assassins…you know how difficult it is the first time you
kill another being, even when you’re trained as a warrior, as Jedi are/
/I know, but…something just
doesn’t feel right/
/It doesn’t, but in times like
this, when so much is wrong, it can be hard to determine what is truly a
problem and what just feels like a problem. We can meditate about it later/
/Yes, Master/
Jack turned his attention back to
the conversation at the table, observing out of the corner of his eye as Rosé
pushed her food around on her plate, hardly eating anything, though the quality
of the food was excellent. Caledon was opining loudly on the Military Creation
Act, evidently in favor of it. Cina was trying to add her opinion, but Caledon
talked over her attempts until she shouted a shortened version of his name,
then began gesturing emphatically. Ruth scowled, evidently displeased with the
dissension at her table, while Rosé half-heartedly translated Cina’s gestures.
When Caledon began talking loudly again, this time about the upcoming election
to replace Arcadia’s Senator, Rosé seemed to shrink into her chair, abandoning
all attempts at eating.
Jack watched her more closely,
his eyes following her hand as she took a small, sharp fork from beside her
plate and pressed the tines into her forearm. Realizing what she was doing, he
made a slight gesture, using the Force to pull the fork from her hand and send
it clattering to the floor.
Rosé jumped, startled, when the
fork suddenly flew from her hand, seemingly of its own volition. Embarrassed,
she leaned over to pick it up, wincing as she saw the marks she had made on her
arm. The others turned to stare at her, Cina inquiringly, Ruth in embarrassment
at her daughter’s clumsiness, and Caledon with an air of superiority—he had
never dropped a utensil at an important dinner, or if he had, he had made sure
no one noticed.
"Excuse me…how clumsy of
me," Rosé stammered, setting the fork back beside her plate. She looked at
the others apologetically. "I am tired…and I’m developing a headache. The
last few days have been trying, to say the least. I think I will retire
early…may I be excused?"
Ruth waved a hand at her
daughter. "Of course, Rosé. I don’t expect the dinner to go on much
longer, anyway—it’s almost time for dessert. Rest well, darling. Be sure to
lock the balcony doors before you go to sleep."
"Of course, Mother."
Rosé nodded to the others and got to her feet, a look of relief crossing her
face as she turned away from them.
Not much longer now, she assured herself, walking as quickly
at etiquette allowed towards her room, not noticing the concerned faces of the
two Jedi as they watched her go.