Somewhere in the woods

I sat down with a map of Belsavis and poked through my memories of my time there, trying to remember enough details to find the coordinates I told the Solos I’d get for them. Their call had lodged in my brain and I hadn’t been feeling quite myself since talking with them.

Of course, I pointed out to myself, it’s not as though I’d gone into this mission with a great sense of personal identity anyway. I’d decided to track down Car’das with Calrissian in order to get out of studying to be a Jedi. The toll of slipping in and out of identities in order to get information the way I had been was starting to show, and now  that I was digging through an old identity to assist the Solos, I was starting to feel a bit fractured.

 Hopefully Karrde and Ghent would be able to track down this Exocron place and I could go back to just being Mara Jade again, whoever that was.

When I was fairly certain I had pinpointed  the right location for the tunnel heads, I yanked the datacard out of my pad and went over to the holostation in our room. I tapped in Solo’s frequency, sat down, and waited for a response. I almost closed the call when it occurred to me I might be catching them in an inopportune moment like they had me, but before I had the chance to reconsider, Solo’s face appeared in the vid field.

“Got your coordinates for you,” I opened, holding up the datacard, “what’s your receiving speed?”

I was taken aback by the sudden accusatory look on Solo’s face, and even more so when he snapped at me.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were after Nubblyk the Slyte?”

Why didn’t I what?

“Because I don’t lie to my friends.” I returned sharply, rage and confusion battling for supremacy in my mind. I’d had nothing to do with Nubblyk the Slyte, even when I’d been on Belsavis, he’d been a mere fact of the place. Nothing to do with me, “and if that’s all you’ve got to say to me -”

I reached out to cut the call, but I could see Solo’s face collapse on itself.

“Sorry” he muttered, “but I heard -”

“What’s wrong, Solo.” I said quietly, dropping my hand. His expression reminded me of the way he’d looked when he was playing Calrissian for the Falcon. Stakes were high. Something was very wrong.

[W]ith a gesture, he directed Lando and me to follow him back out to the Thrusterburn where he ordered a round of drinks and took an oddly long first sip. Despite his nonchalance, the assassination attempt had clearly spooked him.

“Well.” He finally declared, “now you intrigue me. And I find things that interest me to be very  much worth my time.”

“Like Rastus Khal.” Lando remarked.

“Who?”

“He’s a character from the Adsila saga.” Lando raised an eyebrow,  “ancient Corellian mythology, you see.  He always made time for that which interested him. You remind me of him.”

“I will have to revisit the saga.” Bombaasa replied looking impressed, “I do not remember this Rastus figure. Now I must ask, what payment do you demand for your actions?”

“For saving your life?” I asked innocently, “for foiling a multi-layered assassination plot with my hands tied behind my back after having my ship boarded and nearly being executed under false pretenses?”

Lando, placed a hand on my shoulder warningly.

 "I just don’t want to face down a vengeful Jedi Master if something happens to you.”

I snorted again, “sure. That’s a real worry.”

“You don’t think he’d be upset?”

“If Luke Skywalker cared about what I was up to, he could have come on this jaunt.”

“Would you have been any nicer to him than you have been to me?”

I thought of Skywalker skipping out on the dinner he’d invited me to.

“Probably not.” I admitted.

Calrissian shook his head, “okay, let’s see what this ship can do against those asteroids.”

“You mean let’s see what I can do.”

“No, the ship. I know you’ll do fine. It’s your paint job I’m worried about.”

“Thanks.” I turned back to the panel. 

“Looks like we’ve got something to prove then,” I said quietly to the Fire, “let’s do this.”

Carefully, I advanced into the asteroid field.

“Do you want help?”

“You offering?” I didn’t take my eyes off the viewport.

“Would I have asked if I wasn’t?”

“I guess not,” I gestured at the ceiling, “you know where the gun router switches are. Switch the turbos to the co-pilot’s panel and hit anything that I don’t seem to be clearing.

“So you’re making it my job to protect your paint.” He said as he slid into the copilot seat next to me.

“Do you remember how old you were when you started considering Emperor Palpatine your master?”

I sighed, “I don’t really know. I could walk, I could speak in complete sentences, I could dress myself. Five, maybe?”

“Do you have any memories of your life before then?”

Nothing mattered until then.

“No.” I said it too sharply and too quickly to be believable. I shook my head and tried again, “not really.”

I looked at Cilghal, “there are feelings. Shadows. They didn’t want me to go.”

“Your parents?”

“I think so. I don’t know. That’s what I told Organa Solo a couple of years ago and it still feels true.”

“You’re close to Leia Organa Solo then.”

“Not really.”

Cilghal looked skeptical, “you told her a lot.”

“That wasn’t my choice. She happens to be very good at backing beings into a corner until she gets what she needs out of them.”

“And what did she need out of you?”

“An explanation for why I rescued Jacen and Jaina from an Imperial assault force.”

“Did she tell you her conclusions?”

“She thought I’d rescued them because I’d been taken away from my parents.”

“Does that feel true to you?”

“Maybe.” I wriggled my shoulders, uncomfortably. I thought of my conversation with Horn about friendship and duty, “couldn’t I have just done it because I could and therefore I should?”

“You feel you have a duty to these children?”

 If Faughn had a lead, it was the most anyone had had so far and we needed to follow it. Double checking my plunging neckline to make sure it covered as much as it possibly could, I pushed off the wall of my alcove and worked my way back to our box, ordering delivery of a bottle of Darruvian champagne on the way.

When I seated myself next to Calrissian again, he slid an arm around me and kissed my cheek.

“I’m three races up.”

“Good.” I answered as the champagne arrived, “I got something to celebrate.”

Calrissian held his silence as two flutes were poured for us and he followed along as I toasted his fortune and skill. His eyes narrowed as I downed my flute filled with sweet bubbles.

“Mara? What’s going on?” He murmured in my ear as he sipped his own.

“Follow my lead.” I whispered in response, ignoring the way his eyes widened in concern. 

I waited until the cheering died down from the latest race and then I stood up and turned to face him dramatically.

“How dare you!” I screamed with all of the rage and humiliation I could muster.

“Mara?” Calrissian let his glass slip out of his hand in surprise, and as it shattered on the floor, I grabbed the bucket of melting ice globes that had come with the champagne and unceremoniously dumped it in his lap, knocking the champagne bottle over at the same time and drenching the seats below our box.