Too Many Justins - Chapter 59

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Chapter 59 – A Question of Loyalties

“There is no more loyal an act than to tell an inconvenient truth to a dear friend.”

- Flavil Doothikl, Republic Senator from Ruan

Atris shifted herself slightly in the chair; the return trip had been more of a trial than she expected and she was very uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the meeting couldn't take place anywhere but Viggor Condrut's apartment and she needed to make do with the older Jedi Master's tiny nod to the comfort of his guests.

The door chime rang and Wysstr, Ithorian Jedi Master and member of the Council, the third of their 'conservative block', answered it. Kavar Meiag-Couth entered, looking very worried.

“What is it, Kavar?” asked Condrut. It was his home and the other Master's deferred to him to ask for an explanation.

“It's Vandar.”

“What about him?” Condrut grumbled, annoyed at the much younger man's interruption. They had been discussion the very real possibility of a vote for a new Council member. There were reports that Nomi Sunrider had taken ill, and with war looming if not already arrived, they would need a full Council to present a strong face to the Republic. At least Atris had finally come back from her pointless boondoggle to Borleias, solidifying their voting block.

“He's gone.”

“Gone?!” Atris couldn't help herself. Condrut glared at her for the impertinence.

“Yes, Master Atris,” answered Kavar. “Gone. This morning, before you arrived.”

“Do you know where?” asked Wysstr, earning another of Condrut's looks.

“I thought I sensed something about him at yesterday's Council meeting,” added Vrook Lamar, the last of the true conservative Councilors. “He seemed... distracted.”

“Do you think it means something?” asked Wysstr, looking in Kavar's direction.

Condrut spoke before the younger human could answer. “Of course it means something! He's run off. Probably back to Dantooine, or some other idyllic hole to hide in until this is over.”

“I think it's worse than that, Masters,” answered Kavar. But seeing their expressions, Wysstr's and Lamar's and Atris' and especially Condrut's, he suddenly backed off, looking around the room and then back at the door.

“Meiag,” the white-hair master said soothingly, “we need to know.”

Kavar took a deep breath. “I think Master Vandar was lying when he spoke in the Council yesterday.”

“Lying? In what way?” Somehow Condrut had mastered his irritation and the question came across as almost human.

“I think he had another vision, right before the meeting.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because when I spoke to him, telling him about the attack on Aargau, he said he'd made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” asked Atris. “What kind of mistake?”

“I don't know,” Kavar replied, “but all while we talked he was toying with something in his hand. A small metal leaf.”

“Juhani.” said Lamar.

Kavar nodded. “And she had received it from...”

“Revan!” Condrut's calm disappeared. He stood up violently and swirled around the room. “Vandar has one of the blasted things, he speaks of a mistake, and now he's gone.”

“It can only mean...” offered the Ithorian.

“He has betrayed us.” Atris' words were soft, but they cut through everyone like a lightsaber.

“He's probably on his way to meet Revan right now,” added Condrut. “With detailed knowledge of all our plans!”

“I always wondered how the traitor in our midst could operate so freely,” said Wysstr, shaking his huge head. “I never thought it was Vandar.”

Condrut gave a derisive snort. “Of course not. None of us did. We even made him the one to look for the spy!” He slammed a fist on a table. “Damn him!” For a moment his emotions ran wild, lashing at all the other Jedi Masters through the Force. “We must tell the rest of the Council. Immediately.”

“No,” said Atris, tapping a finger across her lips. “No, Viggor. Not immediately.” She looked at Kavar steadily. Condrut noticed and, even through his anger and betrayal, recognized her meaning.

“Thank you Master Kavar,” he said, dismissing the younger human. “You may go.”

Kavar stood like a statue for a moment, stunned. “Masters.” He bowed and left.

“What do you mean, Chanda?” Condrut asked as Kavar's essence disappeared down the corridor.

“Before we go to the rest of the Council, I think we need a plan.”

“A plan?” asked Lamar.

“A plan. On how we are going to ensure the loyalty of what remains of our Order.”

*

Pushing the boat off the beach took a grunt or two; nothing Justin couldn't manage.

But by that time, Tianna, having forsaken Justin's offered pills (“Pills!” Infieda had mocked), was too sick to her stomach to care that she hadn't been the only woman he'd invited.

Although Juhani had begged off, Tarre Adjura and Mission Vao both accepted with such enthusiasm that Bastila Shan was compelled into accepting as well, even if she was still angry with the soldier and his plans of abandoning her and heading for Manaan.

Mission and little historian spent the first few minutes chatting amiably, both having been set aboard dry footed by the soldier who simply lifted them up and set them on board, the Jedi's unexpected pregnancy a wonderful subject of conversation for the pair. Bastila, as the others had anticipated, refused his assistance, lifting herself up and over the thin lapping foam with the Force. Only Tianna had climbed on the hard way, the thought of calling the Force starting her seasickness off early. Since then, she'd sat in the big, wide cockpit, feet wet, hoping to die.

After a moment Justin had the boat's head turned out and he swung himself aboard with the bowsprit. He scrambled back to the tiller, hauling the main sheet as he did. Soon the sail filled and the boat picked up speed. A few minutes after that, the beach already far to stern, he unfurled the jib and the boat literally took off, their speed quite obviously doubling before he noticed Tianna's distress and slacked off, slowing to a more steady pace. “Sorry!” he shouted over wind and water.

Justin slid back to cockpit, feathering the tiller. “Don't be embarrassed, Tianna,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “It happens to even the best sailors. Just remember: over the side, not on the deck. Okay?”

She nodded weakly.

“And if you think you can keep it down for five minutes, take one of those pills I gave you.”

She nodded again and, Infieda mocking her all the harder for her frailty, reach into her jumpsuit and pulled them out, holding them tight in her fist.

“So, what kind of a boat is this?” asked Mission.

“It's a trimaran, a boat with three hulls.”

“Obviously,” Bastila muttered under her breath.

“The center one is the hull,” Justin continued, looking at the brunette. “The two outriggers are called 'amas' while the beams that hold them to the hull are called 'akas'.”

“Why?” asked Tarre.

“Historical. The design is ancient, and being highly unorthodox even during the period when sailing ships were used to cross the oceans of individual planets, way before space travel, it seems everyone just used the words of the culture that developed the design.”

“So why is this one called 'Realist'?” As the red-head asked, she moved back, out of the cockpit and onto the wide piece of springy fabric stretched between the hull and the ama on her side. Bastila twisted to give her a look. “It's painted on the side,” Tarre explained.

“It's from the old joke,” answered Justin.

“Joke?” Bastila asked.

Justin smiled. “You know... The Pessimist complains about the wind. The Optimist expects it to change. The Realist...” He paused to look up to the masthead. “... adjusts the sails.”

Tarre laughed, Mission joining in a moment later. Bastila took a little longer, but even she cracked a smile. Only Tianna remained unmirthful, but they all agreed she had a valid reason.

Her curiosity satisfied about the vessel, Tarre flipped to her knees and took off her tunic before flopping back to sit awkwardly on the spongy material of the trampoline to remove her sandals.

“What are you doing?” asked Bastila, somewhat shocked to see the little red-head taking her clothes off.

“I'm going to do some sunbathing. Want to join me?”

“But...”

Tarre slipped off her leggings and made to remove her bra.

“You aren't...” Bastila stammered.

Tarre looked at her. “What?”

“You aren't going to... take off all your clothes, are you?”

“Of course. That's how we do it on Atzerri.”

“Well, we aren't on Atzerri, in case you hadn't noticed. I mean... You, you, you... can't just... Justin is here!”

“Justin!” the red-head called, sliding her arms through the straps. “You don't mind of I sunbathe nude, do you?”

The soldier shrugged. “Suit yourself!”

“Oh, ha ha ha,” Tarre answered. She ran her hands down her thighs, taking her bottoms off with them.

“You weren't so cavalier about being naked on the Fantasia,” Bastila quipped. Justin raised an eyebrow.

Tarre gritted her teeth, but experience taught her that it was best to come clean when the dirt was dished. “Somebody used up all the towels and I went into your room to find some more.”

“By 'somebody' you mean Dustil, right?” Justin asked.

“Who else? You'd better not have been using my 'fresher, mister! So, just as I stepped through the connecting door, there was a certain Jedi Master, who shall remain named Bastila Shan, staring at me while I shivered, and all that that entails.”

“In my room?”

Both women nodded. The soldier looked up at the masthead for moment, scowling. “How did you get in?”

“I walked through the pass-through.”

“No, not you,” Justin said looking at Tarre. He turned to lock eyes with Bastila. “You.”

Tarre's mouth dropped. “Yeah! How did you get in?” she mimicked, silently cursing herself for not asking the question earlier.

“I...” Bastila looked even more uncomfortable that she had been all since the boat had started moving. “... spiked the lock.”

“No way!” exclaimed Mission. “Really?”

The Jedi Master nodded.

“Who'd have thought!” the red-head teased. “There may be hope for you after all, Bastila.” The subject seemingly closed, Tarre made four or five bounding hops toward the bow, dropping silently onto the triangular bow trampoline forward of the starboard aka.

Justin slid out of the cockpit, all the way across the port trampoline until he sat on the ama, turning the boat slightly off the wind. He loosened the mainsail a bit, dropping speed even further. Personally, he liked screaming along at 20 knots into a cross sea, but it made for very wet forward trampolines. As Tarre got herself settled, Mission's eyes darted back and forth between the little historian, already relaxing, and Bastila, sitting in the open cockpit with a deathgrip on the starboard handhold.

Seeing her look, Justin called over the blowing wind and rushing water, “All that blue skin is going to absorb all lot of UV. Sunscreen is in the locker in the V-berth.”

With permission 'granted', Mission dashed below. Bastila glared across the open cockpit, past Tianna's slumped shoulders, at him.

Justin returned Bastila's stare. “What?”

A few minutes later the Twi'lek emerged in a black two-piece suit, the rest of her covered in a thin layer of off-white sunscreen, a small bottle still in her hand. “This is so cool!” she yelled out as she made her way onto the cabin roof.

“What is that?” the brunette asked, incensed.

“It's called a bikini,” Mission replied, in a teasing voice.

“Yes, I know what it's called. Where did you get it? You didn't have one with you when we left Ploo.”

“I found it in the dresser in my room, along with a whole bunch of other stuff. I figured: sailing, ocean, bikini.” MIssion turned forward, settling the point, and climbed along the low cabin roof, one hand on the boom for balance, the other reaching behind her neck and popping the knot. As the top fell off, she flopped down next to the red-haired Jedi who was already beginning to bake.

Bastila glared at Justin again, and again he just shrugged before looking off to the horizon. In a moment he looked back, his eyes starting at the masthead and working down until they met Bastila's, still burning in his direction.

With his attention, she spoke. “It's just...”

Justin cupped a hand to his ear.

“I said...!” the Jedi Master shouted louder. Justin shook his head, his hand still to his ear. Bastila scowled, which only drew a smile.

She considered using the Force to amplify her words, but the look on his face told her he would ignore her no matter what the volume. He wanted her to come out onto the trampoline with him; wanted her to leave the safety and comfort of the cockpit and suspend herself on a web of fabric 1/4 of a meter over open water.

“And by the Force, I'm going to do it, too!” she thought.

With a deep breath, she pushed away from the molded coaming, across the cockpit, sliding past Tianna who went wide-eyed as they came together. Face to face with the trampoline, water spraying up through the open fabric as the center hull threw the waves aside, Bastila hesitated, but one more look at Justin's smirking, conceited face, and she threw herself forward and out over the water.

The trampoline was spongier than she expected, and she struggled for a second to gain her balance. Her foot slipped on the wet surface, but Justin's hand was around her wrist in a flash and he steadied her until she was sitting at his side, their bottoms sunk down so that the ama provided a small bit of back support.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” Bastila grumbled. “The nerve! Dragging me out here!”

“I hate the ocean, you know!” she yelled, shocked that she really didn't need to. Talking in a slightly raised voice would have been enough. Now that she was out of it, Bastila realized before how much noisier the cockpit was. “It isn't so loud out here.”

“Wind in the mainsail,” Justin explained, pointing at the huge white sheet. “It's almost like plastic, so it makes a huge racket. That's the second reason I like it out on the tramp.”

“What's the first?”

Justin pointed across her, in the direction of their forward motion. Free of all the sails and rigging, the windward trampoline offered a nearly unobstructed view of the ocean they sailed over.

“It's beautiful,” she admitted.

“So are you,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Bastila blushed.

“Still, it is a bit wet,” she tweaked, brushing droplets of water off her clothes, “but not too bad.”

“I played off the wind to cut the bow wave down some. Besides, it's all part of the experience. And you are a bit over-dressed for the occasion.”

Bastila glared. “I am not going to take all my clothes off!”

“Nobody asked you to. I'm just suggesting that you take off that over-robe.”

She considered his statement. “You'll be much more comfortable, I assure you,” he added.

Bastila rolled of her eyes, but did as he suggested, pulling her shoulders free. With his help she got the long garment out from under her backside and he rolled it into a ball.

“Here,” he said handing her the long extension that connected to the tiller. “Just hold it about here. Nice and steady.”

“What!? You aren't...” Justin rolled to his knees and scrambled across to the cockpit. “Get back here!”

He looked back at her as if to say 'Relax' before stepping down on the sole. He said something to Tianna, and Bastila saw her shake her head furiously, before he went below. In a moment he was back, taking the tiller from her shaking hands.

“See?” he said, “That was great. You did wonderfully.”

“I... I did?”

“Of course. Sailing isn't that hard. Just remember, soft touch, steady hand.” He glanced up to the masthead, checking the telltales. “Would you like to try again?”

Something snapped inside the Jedi Master, some thing happy. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

Justin worked himself back to the main hull, stopping again to say something to Tianna; this time she didn't shake her head; and once more he went below. Sailing off the wind, blowing as steady as a rock, Bastila felt a strange exhilaration, hearing the water running along the two hulls, feeling the vibrations as the boat skipped along the surface. She realized she was smiling, smiling so hard her jaws were aching. After a few minutes Justin came back out on deck. He handed a glass of something to Tianna, the blonde taking it with one hand, her other still with a firm grip on the port handhold. A moment later he was at Bastila's side, and she got another quick kiss on her cheek as a reward for a job well done.

“Why don't you check out the view from up front?” he suggested.

“I.... No. I couldn't...”

Justin nodded his head in the direction of the bow. “I'll keep her steady for you. Take a little break, skipper.”

The Jedi Master sat for a moment, pondering. She had come out onto the trampoline and somehow hadn't died from the experience. In fact, she'd enjoyed it very much. Could she really go up front?

“I jumped off the Great Walkway on Kashyyyk into thin air, for Force sake!” she decided, “I can do this.”

With another deep breath she was on the forward trampoline in a blink, the view even more spectacular than from the stern. She lay back with her feet forward, her head resting slightly elevated on the forward aka, giving her the strange feeling that she was laying on the water surface, skimming along at breakneck speed. It was quite a bit wetter there, her back growing positively damp, and with no break at all from the sun, it was very, very much warmer. Bastila sat up, debating how to rectify the situation. Looking to her right, over the deck of the main hull, she realized that the others were too far down to see. Then she looked back at Justin, sitting near the stern, his eyes constantly scanning the boat, the sails and the horizon. If she lay down flat, there was no way he could...

“I don't know why I'm doing this, but...” Crossing her legs under herself, she undid her sash and started working her tunic off, her sandals and leggings sliding away in turn. “I can't believe he got me out of my clothes.”

But before she settled in, she looked back one more time. Whether he could hear her or not, she yelled, “But my underthings stay ON!”

*

As a show of respect, Forn Dodonna went to Vandar's room for the meeting rather than asking, ordering really, the alien Jedi Master to come to her office. It was a comfort to her having him aboard, remembering his help at the Star Forge, calming the Republic forces even as Bastila Shan turned her powerful Battle Meditation upon them; buying Revan, buying the all, those few minutes the prodigal needed to get to the young woman and bring her back to their side.

Vandar was ready when she arrived, her Exec at her side and her Liaison, Tianna Ression's woefully inadequate replacement, the requisite three paces behind her, but she shooed them away before taking a seat.

“So, Master Vandar,” she began, “what brings you to my little slice of paradise?”

The Jedi Master didn't answer right away. He was himself unsure of his reasons, but his presence aboard the flagship, or at least with the Fleet, was required. Required by the Will of the Force. The moment he received word of the shocking attack on Aargau, Vandar was certain that he was needed on the front lines. For what, he couldn't speculate.

“I am concerned about disturbances in the Force.”

“Oh, here we go!” thought Dodonna ruefully. “Disturbances in the Force! Why can't the Jedi just come out and say they're worried about something?”

“Really,” she said instead. “What kinds of disturbances?”

Vandar picked up on her subtle sarcasm immediately. “I know we Jedi are sometimes overly dramatic.”

“I don't know about drama, but I, for one, am happy to have you. Although I do wish Bastila Shan were with us as well.”

At the mention of the younger woman's name Vandar went into a sort of trance, his face slack and his eyes open, riveted by what he saw.

His sight washed with red and the small sitting room on the Invincible was replaced with the Great Hall. At his feet lay Lonna Vash, to his left Viggor Condrut. A strong hand grabbed him under one arm and lifted him up and over what was left of Kaah Ohtok, droplets of dark fluid dripping from his feet as he was carried.

He looked to his left; Dodonna noticed his head turn in the real world, but the vacancy in his eyes told her that he was not sitting in the room with her any longer; and he saw his carrier: Justin, dressed all in black. All around him Vandar could feel the swirl of the Darkside, raw and terrifying, but exhilarating at the same time. So many times he had seen this vision over his many years, eventually coming to understand what it meant.

But then he saw something he hadn't seen any other time. A figure stepped out of the shadows, the twin snap-hiss of a saberstaff putting both him and the Destroyer on notice. Vandar felt his own weight on his feet as Justin set him down and he turned to the new arrival, the last Master, the only thing to stand between them and the complete annihilation of the Jedi from the galaxy.

Bastila Shan.

“Admiral,” he croaked aloud, “please excuse me.”

*

Justin drove the boat at a more leisurely pace for a while, waiting for the color came back into Tianna's cheeks, displacing her original green tinge. Her move to the leeward side of the cockpit helped some too, so when he noticed her eyes dry out he waved to her. When she didn't respond, he moved inboard to join her, the boat heeling slightly more onto the leeward ama as his weight moved off the long lever arm of the akas, the windward ama flying along clear of the wave tops.

“You look better.”

“Oh!” She realized he was sitting across from her, just on the coaming so he could see in front of them, flapping his loose-fitting, light knit shirt in the warm sun, his white shorts blazing against his legs. “I do feel better. Thank you.”

“You see?” he said, a slight tease in his tone. “You should have taken one of those pills before you came down.”

Tianna smiled. “You're right, I should have.”

He smiled. “Well, all's well that ends well. Why don't you come out and see what sailing this bad boy is really all about?”

“Oh, I couldn't... I mean... I'm no sailor.”

“Neither was Bastila and she did great. Besides, the two of you... Uhmm...” He stopped suddenly, looking to the masthead, as if he had intended to stay more, but changed his mind.

“What?”

“You don't like the water, do you?” She knew it wasn't what he had originally intended to say, but it was still true.

“No, I don't. I had a very bad experience once...”

“Lot's of people say if you fall off a horse the best thing to do it get right back on.” He held out his hand. “ 'Don't let the bad deed get the best of you.' 'Put the past behind you.' ”

She looked at his hand but didn't move.

“As the man once sang, it's a brand new day.”

Tianna smiled weakly, not really sure if she could, or even if she should do this.

Her stomach may have been feeling better for the first time since stepping aboard, but she still wasn't comfortable. Partly it was that her seasickness had brought back to mind all her illness on Kashyyyk and on the Negotiator as it sped to Ploo IV. Partly it was her sadness at having driven Carth away. And partly, and most immediately, it was Justin's interest in getting her to participate.

She wasn't sure what to make of his insistence on her participation. And she wasn't sure how she wanted to respond to his plain and friendly manner.

Friend was not a word with much practical meaning in Tianna Ression's life. Her “father's” jealousy over her mother's infidelity had kept her from having many friends as a small child. Matricide kept her from having many friends as she got older. Living on the streets of the Outer Rim, she didn't have many friends among those she shared them with. And as a Sith, she had no friends, only her master, Darth Sebek.

But all around her she saw friends. They all liked each other, in their own ways. Juhani was obviously devoted to Bastila Shan, and the Jedi Master showed secret signs of friendship with her former pupil. Mission and little Tarre Adjura had hit it off spectacularly, even if the red-head was the most shockingly bad example of a Jedi Tianna had ever heard about. The whole insanity of the situation, getting trapped on the Star of Peltion, the arrival, the house, the staff... And yet everyone seemed happy.

“But then,” she'd thought as she looked to Tarre and Mission sunbathing in the bows, “what do I really know about the Jedi, anyway? What do I know about anything?”

And of course, Justin was being... Justin. “He is so different from what I expected.”

“How could he have been a Dark Lord?” She shook her head. It seemed impossible. He laughed, he teased, he took a teasing and laughed even harder. It was crazy and somehow wonderful at the same time.

“Can I even be happy, anymore?” she wondered.

Tianna bit her lip and reached out.

*

“This is great!” Mission gushed, rolling onto her stomach to toast her back.

“Mmmm,” was all she got from the little red-head.

As she settled, resting on her elbows for a moment, trying to decide if she should lay with her head facing left or right, Mission had a very good look at the naked Jedi laying face up next to her.

“Tarre?”

“Yes?”

“I don't want you to take this the wrong way or anything... I mean... You know, when Bastila and I... I didn't.... I mean, I think Juhani and Yuthura are all cool and everything, but...”

The red-head opened one squinting eye and turned her head, raising a hand to shield her face. “What?”

“I just... Are you going to breastfeed?”

Tarre burst, air coming out of her all at once. Then she laughed.

“What?!”

“Of all the questions I never thought I would have to answer in my entire life, that would be right at the top of the list.”

“What would?” asked another voice, Bastila's head poking up from across the bow.

The other two looked over at the intrusion. The Jedi Master was face down as well, pushing herself up on her hands, her back arched. “I heard you laughing,” she added.

“I was.”

“Hey! It's a legitimate question!” complained Mission, flopping over and sitting up, pulling her legs to her chest and hunching down over them.

“Oh, Mission,” Tarre said, sitting up as well. “It is a legitimate question.” She paused, putting an arm around the blue-skinned woman. “I've just... never... never, never, never, ever thought about it. I suppose I need to, huh?”

Mission looked to the side with a smile. “It is really important. Babies are much healthier when they are.”

“I'm all for healthy babies,” said Tarre. “Especially my own. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well!” Mission unwound herself, shifting so her back was to the bow, facing the little Jedi as if she were giving a lecture. “Now that you mention it, you should eat lots and lots of vegetables.”

Tarre smiled. “Carth said exactly the same.”

“Oh yeah, especially leafy green vegetables, folic acid you know, and then you should take plenty of naps. And you should do lots of stretching and exercise. And not drink too much caffa. Or alcohol. Or eat too much red meat. But if you do, you should make sure it's cooked well, because you don't want any food-borne diseases...”

“Okay, okay! Enough! “ cried Tarre, holding up her hands. “The other things will have to wait; right now I'm pretty sure I have a large nap deficit I need to work on, so can we hold off on any more tips until we get back?”

Mission smiled at the new mother. “Deal.”

*

Carth stopped and bent down, dipping his hand into the warm pool, just as Dustil had done the night before. He squatted there for a moment before speaking again.

“I look back and think: 'where did my life go?' ”

“Dad...”

“I'm going to be 46 soon.” He chuckled. “I know that isn't really old, not like Jolee, but...”

“You aren't old, dad.”

“Maybe not in years, but... I see all the things I did, all the risks I took. I should be dead a thousand times over. Why wasn't I the one to go and not your mother?”

“Dad...”

“I would have given anything, anything, for her. And for you. I would have given my life for you both. In a way, I guess I did. I guess I gave my life for the two of you.”

“It isn't your fault.”

“Of course it is, Dustil. I made all those decisions. Nobody made me take those risks. Nobody made me go. I made myself. I gave my life away because I thought it would save you.”

“And it did, dad. It did! Look at me. I'm... I'm going... to be a...”

“Father?”

“Yeah.” Dustil took a deep breath, holding it a moment before letting it out in powerful sigh. “A father! Oh Force dad, how the hell did I get myself into this?!”

Carth stood and stepped to his side. He'd never been one for physical displays of affection, so he didn't give the younger man a hug. “You fell in love, Dustil. Isn't is great?”

Dustil looked at his father, really looking into his eyes for the first time. He saw the pride and the sadness, the joy and the loss. And he saw the love.

“I look at you and I see your mother. I see it in your eyes. And your smile.” Carth reached up and took his son's cheek in his hand. “I wonder... I wonder if I'll see it in his eyes, or her eyes?”

“Dad...”

“I know I wasn't a very good father, Dustil. But if you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance... I'll try to be a good grandfather.”

*

The three women got resettled, the gentle rocking making them all very sleepy. Just as she was ready to drift off, something dawned on Tarre, something from the very beginning of their conversation.

“Bastila,” she asked, too tired to look over, or even open her eyes, “how did you hear me laughing? I didn't think I was that loud.”

“I just...” Bastila listened, noticing the lack of wind. The boat was still moving, she could see the water still running along beneath her through the open webbing, but the wind was definitely less. “We must have slowed down.”

“We have.”

Bastila startled. Sitting to her right, on the port ama, was Justin. Smiling.

“How long have you been there?!”

“A few minutes.”

“A few...!” She scowled for a moment before taking a deep breath and letting it go.

A thought struck her. “Were you looking at my bottom!?” She pushed up to look at him as fiercely as she could.

Justin looked offended. “Bastila Shan! How could you even ask a question like that!?”

His tone was so hurt and his face showed such disappointment that she moved to sit at his side, his sadness affecting her terribly.

“Of course I was looking at your bottom,” he said softly, not completely successful at hiding his smile.

It had been noticed in many, many circles around the galaxy that if there was one expression Bastila Shan had mastered it was righteous indignation. Justin got a full-on display.

“OF COURSE!?” she bellowed. Unable to come up with anything more devastating to say, she resorted to the most obvious response at hand.

She shoved him.

And Justin disappeared over the side with an insignificant splash.

Just then the wind veered and picked up with a sudden burst. The boat heeled away from her and gathered speed, suddenly tearing over the water. As she watched the small white patch that marked the soldier's point of entry slip silently down the side and then behind them, Bastila caught sight of Tianna Ression, holding the tiller in the stern, the blonde's eyes wide with terror as Justin's floating head went past.

“I've probably done smarter things in my life,” she said to the empty ama.

*

“So,” said Condrut, “where does that leave us?”

Atris looked down at the datapad in her lap. “Well, there are no issues with the current crop of younglings. They're all too young to have anything but general respect for Vandar.”

“And coupled with their desire to be selected as padawans,” added Wysstr, “I don't think we need to worry.”

Condrut nodded gravely.

Atris continued. “The Knight's list has a few concerns, most notably Zpiroline, Tash y Watush, Qestel and Miliganasi.”

“What do you recommend?” the human male asked.

“Arrest,” the Echani historian replied, deadpan.

“Agreed,” said Lamar.

“Agreed,” added the Ithorian.

Condrut nodded as well. “Put Ohtok on it.”

“And the Masters?” Wysstr asked.

Condrut pursed his lip. It was distasteful, most distasteful. He had known many of them for years, grown up in the Order with several. But then he had grown up in the Order with Vandar, “And look at where that has gotten us,” he thought.

Atris read off the list, and Condrut made his judgments, most getting positive responses. Until they reached the Council itself.

“Vash?”

“She's harmless. Vandar might be able to sway her mind sitting in the Council chambers, but otherwise... No. She remains.”

Atris nodded, making the notation. “Ell?”

“Harmless.”

Atris nodded. “Kavar.”

“He's an idiot. He stays.”

“Is that wise?” asked Wysstr.

Condrut gave the hammerhead a wicked look. “If we remove everyone, how will that look to the Republic? To the Senate? 'Yes, Chancellor,' ” he mocked, “the Jedi are behind you. All six of us.' ”

The Ithorian backed down.

“Sunrider,” Atris said.

“She will be a problem,” Vrook Lamar admitted. “As head of the Council, removing her is not an option.”

“We can always hope she really is sick, or that she suffers some fatal accident,” offered Atris.

Condrut chuckled. “I suppose we shall have to. I'll deal with Nomi. Next?”

“That just leaves Revan's friends.”

“Revan's friends,” Condrut repeated with a heaving sigh. “Go on, Chanda.”

“Bindo.”

“Arrest.”

“Juhani.”

“Arrest, along with that Twi'lek she so embarrassed the Order with.” Vrook Lamar winced but nodded in agreement. He too had been wounded deeply by Vandar's betrayal.

“Yuthura Ban?” asked Atris.

“Yes. That one.”

“Good,” she said under her breath. “Sith spawn.” Louder, “Adjura.”

“Who?”

“Tarre Adjura,” Atris repeated with emphasis. “Small red-haired human.” When the other showed no signs of recognition she continued. “She kept mostly to the Archives, hardly ever saw the light of day.”

“Mmm. Then let her stay there.” Condrut paused, considering. “Do you have any influence with her?”

“Some,” Atris replied.

“Good. We may need it. I want all traces of Vandar, and Revan, removed from our history. Can you arrange that?”

“Possibly. Although I'm not sure...”

“I didn't ask you, Chanda.” Taken aback, Atris bowed her head. “Next?” Condrut growled.

“Onasi.”

“The Admiral's son? The one...”

“Who worked for Vandar,” Atris finished for him, “Yes, that's the one. He did occasional work for me until Vandar sent him off.”

“Can you control him?”

Atris looked up, eyeing the old human. “To what end?”

“Enforcement, Chanda. Enforcement.”

“Enforcement?” asked Wysstr.

“He trained on Korriban, did he not?” Condrut asked. Atris nodded. “Then he should know a few things about keeping the troops in line.”

What Atris thought of the suggestion, or of Condut's twisted smile, Lamar neither knew nor cared; all he knew was that he didn't like it.

“What of Redfern?” the Ithorian asked.

“The padawan with the Mandalorian fixation?” Atris jibed. “Leave him to me.”

Condrut nodded. “Which leaves only...”

“Shan.”

The small room was silent for a moment.

“We could elect her to the Council...” Atris suggested. “Her Battle Meditation would be a great asset, both to the Republic, and to us.”

Vrook Lamar looked thoughtful, but not enthused. His history with his former padawan was checkered to say the least.

Condrut neither agreed nor disagreed. “I have a better idea. Although it might mean having to put up with that embarrassing Cathar for a bit longer.”

*

Bastila bounded her way back to the stern, Tianna's head nodding up and down in time with Jedi's steps.

“What the hell did you do that for?” the blonde screamed.

“I don't...” Bastila fumbled. “Can you turn this thing around?”

“What?! I barely know how to keep it going forward! Turn it around? Are you insane?!”

Bastila barely noted the reply, her eyes fixed on the tiny, and ever diminishing, dot of Justin's head.

“What do we do?” she and Tianna asked simultaneously.

Bastila looked around and spotted the horseshoe float hung from the stern rail. She dashed to it and pulled it from it's hanger.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Throw it to him!”

“But he's too far away!”

“You're a Jedi! Use the Force!”

With a nod, Bastila called the Force and hurled the white foam block only to see it fall far, far short. “There! See? He's already too far away. ”

“Who's too far away?” asked Mission. Bastila looked back. Mission and Tarre were bouncing their way back down the far side of the boat.

“What are you two doing?” Tarre asked, stepping down into the cockpit. For a moment both Bastila and Tianna were too shocked by her unclothed appearance to answer, but the little red-head made a slapping motion with her hand and both woman felt a slight sting on their left cheeks, popping them out of their trances.

“Well?!”

“Justin... uhm...” Bastila said, unable to keep guilt from her tone.

“Yeah,” said Mission, looking around. “where is Justin?”

Tianna stopped looking at Tarre's naked body while she rubbed her cheek, but she was still far from comfortable with their situation. Off to leeward, hidden behind the sail and the rigging, was the low, rough outline of land. She'd caught glimpses of it as they sailed, the bow now pointed almost exactly toward the very left-hand end of it. With nothing else to do, she kept her hand on the tiller, the boat following her perfectly straight course.

Bastila pointed behind the boat. “He fell overboard.”

“Fell?” Tarre rushed to her side, Mission coming up on the other side.

“Where?” the Twi'lek asked. “I can't see.”

Tarre's eyes glazed over. “Wow. He really is a long way back. What's that white thing?”

Bastila looked away.

“He looks okay,” Tarre added. “What is he...? He doesn't look...”

Bastila admitted defeat and called the Force again, her vision flying over the open water to find Justin, his head bobbing with the waves. She saw him roll his eyes and shake his head. Then he put his face down and started swimming.

Without warning, there was a terrible racket behind them and they all turned, joining Tianna in watching both sails roll themselves up, the mailsail disappearing into the mast, the jib rolling itself around the headstay until only a very small bit of it remained loose.

“We're slowing down,” said Mission.

“That seems like a good thing,” Tarre said.

A moment later Tianna yelped as the tiller was yanked out of her hand, the boat spinning immediately into the eye of the wind and a little past. The jib filled on the wrong side, still cleated off on what had been the leeward side, and the boat came to a dead stop, it's head into the wind, just sitting there motionless.

“Well,” said Tarre with resignation, “I suppose I'd better get dressed. He's bound to be grumpy.”

“I am forced to agree,” thought Bastila. She went forward herself, gathered up her own clothes and sat in the cockpit until the red-head came out of the cabin. Then she went in and redressed.

About fifteen minutes later Justin grabbed ahold of the stern, flipped down the small ladder stowed there for just such purposes, and climbed aboard.

“The water is really nice,” he said, smiling at everyone. Then he looked at Tarre and Bastila. “How come you two are dressed?” He looked over at the small island, the stern pointing almost directly at it. “We'll be at the island in about twenty minutes. Don't you want to swim?”

“Swim?” Bastila asked.

“You didn't think I asked you to join me just so I could get you all out of your clothes, did you?”

The Jedi Master turned bright red, Mission giggled and Tarre rolled her eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “This is Justin we're talking about,” she thought. “He can't let a good one like this go by.” Tianna wasn't sure what to make of it.

“That was just a side benefit,” he added, winking.

Bastila clamped her jaw shut, her face even redder in irritation than it had been in embarrassment, and she sat in the cockpit glaring at the soldier until he brought the boat just short of the the beach. Once the small anchor was down and the the sails were again furled, Mission, still in her swimsuit, slid right over the stern into the clear turquoise water, Tarre went below to change and Justin went forward to put the cover over the jib.

Bastila sat stock still until he turned back toward her, and when she was sure she had his attention, she stood up, faced him, and undressed right there in the cockpit. And this time she did not stop at her bra and panties, for which she was rewarded by two seriously raised eyebrows from the outsider, before she too dropped over the stern into the water.

A second later Tarre, as naked as before, ran down the cockpit sole, over the stern cabin roof and dove out into the water. With Justin standing fixed on the port trampoline, Tianna shrugged her shoulders and unzipped her jumpsuit. Not being much of a swimmer, though, she slipped off the port ama, the water coming up just over her waist.

As he watched the four women splash around, Mission and Tarre already wailing away at each other's face with long range splashes of water, Justin looked down at the fingertips of his right hand, memories of his handshake with the blonde Lieutenant coming back full force. Seeing Bastila and Tianna together and with little to obscure his view...

He sat on the ama right at the stern end, dangling his bare feet in the warm water.

“Hey!” shouted Mission, “no Force stuff! That isn't fair!”

“Sorry!” replied Tarre. She spun in a pirouette, her long red hair streaming along in a wide flat circle. “Hey Bastila!” she called.

“Yes?” came the reply from farther out, in the deeper water. Justin looked over. For someone who didn't like the water, Bastila was a very good swimmer. She put her face down, her lean body rising to the surface as she swam to the bobbing red-head.

“You know,” Tarre said in conspiratorial whisper as the brunette came close, “someone seems to be having a very good time just ogling us all. And a very dry good time at that.” She winked and was pleasantly surprised to see Bastila pick up on it. “I'll pick him up and you...”

Bastila nodded and the two swam over, the Jedi Master deliberately swimming on her back. As she got close to the boat she stopped but lay floating on her back. She opened an eye.

“Aren't you going to join us, darling?” she asked, trying to get the same sultry tone she'd heard a few times on the Vid serials.

“The water really is wonderful,” added Tarre from further forward. She was in shallow enough to stand with the water midway up her arm, but she shrank down so that her chin was just barely above the surface.

“And so is the company,” Bastila gushed, almost making Tarre give the game away.

“I'm fine, thank you,” Justin replied, though he didn't take his eyes from the floating Jedi Master, they women all noticed. “I got a very nice workout earlier.”

In a flash, Tarre stood up, hurling the Force at the soldier, grabbing him up off the deck and holding him three meters in the air. As he reach maximum height, Bastila called the Force herself, sweeping both arms across her body, hurling the helpless Justin far out into the bay. Even before he hit the water he could hear their raucous laughter.

*

“I don't like this. I don't like this one bit.”

Yuthura Ban looked up from the datapad.

“Don't like what, master?”

“Yes, Master Bindo,” added Buth Redfern, helping himself to another room-temperature sandwich from the open counter, “what don't you like?”

Since he wasn't supposed to be aboard no one other than his brother and the two Jedi had seen him, and since Jolee Bindo had single-handedly decided to keep things that way, he had been reduced to eating left-overs brought back from the mess room. Not that he planned on complaining.

“All these ships.”

“Isn't the Capital normally garrisoned?” Yuthura asked.

“Yes. But this isn't the garrison.”

“Master?” asked Buth around a mouthful of bread and meat.

“This isn't the 4th Fleet. Look” He waved his hand and took the datapad from Yuthura. “Dodonna's flagship is the Invincible. Do you see the Invincible anywhere out there?”

Yuthura checked twice and then a third time just to be sure, before she answered, shaking her head slowly.

“I don't like it, I tell you” Jolee repeated. “Don't like it at all. Place is swarming with ships, we can barely move, but Dodonna's ship isn't among them? I smell a rat.”

“I've been smelling one for weeks,” Buth Redfern added, Iestyn the droid, hovering just over his shoulder, nodding it's little 'face' up and down in agreement.

“What do we do?” the Twi'lek asked.

“I don't think we should make an appearance.”

“Isn't it a little late for that, Master?”

“Maybe not. What if we could get past everyone, without being seen or identified?”

Yuthura's eyes brightened. “Mind trick?”

Jolee nodded. “That's fine for you and I, but what about junior here?”

“Padawan Redfern?” Yuthura sat back on the sofa, considering.

“Junior?” the young man asked, offense in his tone. He had survived on his own for weeks amongst his mechanical enemies and he didn't take kindly to the slight. “I can do it. Just show me how.”

“No doubt, kid, but just relax a bit and let the lady think.”

The purple Twi'lek pondered for a while, her eyes and mouth and lekku betraying he concentration.

“You know,” she said slowly, “it isn't necessary for him to be invisible.”

Jolee cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“We just don't want anyone to know he's here, right?”

The old human nodded. “Right.”

“I was thinking. It might just be possible to pass him off has his brother.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Buth. “That might...! Wait. One problem.”

“Yeron,” said Jolee, nodding. “How do we convince anyone he's Yeron if Yeron is here too.”

Yuthura smiled. “We just have to keep anyone from seeing them together. A simple matter of timing, master.”