| As Long as there is Hope by Jemmiah ************ "Well?" It may have been a simple question, one little word that on the face of it seemed straight forward enough but something about the manner in which it was uttered left little doubt that things had better be 'well' or there would be trouble. More than just a casual enquiry, it was little short of a well-dressed threat and when one was dealing with the man in question you learned to take threats VERY seriously. Two men in black, one short with scruffy hair and an unkempt look about him, and the other a solid wall of muscle and bone shifted their weight slightly from foot to foot, an indication of how ill at ease they were in the steely presence of Rufus Merdan. Their report was not going to go down at all well. "There was another one, by the look of it." Keleskladt, the scruffy looking man answered. "Had all the symptoms. Shaking, dramatic weight loss, eyes too bright. The usual sort of thing." "And?" Merdan looked up from the data pad he'd been studying. "We used the usual sort of remedy." Najwal joined in, his high and reedy voice distinctly at odds with his gigantic frame. Merdan said nothing for a long time, just staring at the two men in the hope of seeing them sweat. He was happy to note that they did. Just as well. If they feared him, so much the better. There was little in the way of natural loyalty on Nargotria but fear certainly kept them in line. And he didn't just mean the workers. Merdan hissed irritably. "How many's that now?" "Not quite a half." Keleskladt shoved his fingers in his pockets. "We're down to thirty four now. Thirty five if you count that mad cannoid of an envoy." "Tally's if you please." "Sorry?" Keleskladt blinked in confusion. "A inventory." Merdan turned glittering grey eyes. "A list of all accounted for." Najwal started to recite his list parrot fashion, his voice grating on Merdan's sensitive ears. The man was OK as a guard but as an orator he wouldn't last three minutes, not if he had anything to do with it. "Thirty five total. Two over fifty, eleven over forty, twelve over thirty, nine over twenty and the little insect." He finished with a grimace. "The who?" Merdan's gaze was unflinching. "The Corellian." Keleskladt put in. "I can't think why you keep her." "She works hard." Merdan replied. "As long as she works, she lives. Simple." "I suppose there's the novelty value." Keleskladt snickered. "Don't s'pose there's been much call for her since Levinstowe went..." Merdan's head shot up and Keleskladt let his words die on his breath. "I don't want 'Mr'. Levinstowe's name mentioned round here, is that understood?" Rufus eyed the greasy little man with obvious contempt. "Our dealings with that person are over. If I do hear his name uttered in my presence you will not like the consequences, understood?" The two guards came smartly to attention and Merdan sat back in his seat, temporarily appeased. "What about the envoy woman? Has she decided to join our little business enterprise?" the words held a faint hint of amusement, and Keleskladt decided it was safe to relax for the time being. "Uncooperative." He snorted. "And have you explained the house rules?" "Yes, sir. She still won't listen to common sense. Or brute force either." A single raised eyebrow informed the two guards how unimpressed Merdan was with that tale. He was well known for his patience and his resolve to get his own way, but every so often limits were reached, like they had now. His plan. Everything fitted into his plan. If they didn't they were removed from the picture altogether. It was only the fact that he was a meticulous planner that had stopped his little den of vice on Nargotria being discovered so far. There had been times when his schemes seemed to be up in smoke but on each of these occasions he had sat tight until the moment of crisis had passed. Levinstowe had nearly blasted them out of the sky with his panicking loose tongue… Never again, swore Merdan. He was in charge, something Levinstowe would have done well to remember. "She's been here for what, nearly a week?" Merdan asked, tapping onto the mini keypad before him. "And she still won't see things our way?" "Not just that," Najwal squeaked, "she's been saying some rather mutinous things." "Indeed?" Merdan said coolly, not looking up at the two men. "Such as?" Keleskladt slicked his oily hair back with one hand. "She says," he assumed an important voice, "that she is a personal friend of the Chancellor and that he will have people out combing the galaxy for her." "He won't find her out here." Merdan said decisively. "Not in the back of beyond. What else?" "That she is important and well known…" "Everyone overestimates their importance." Rufus said slyly, but paying attention all the same. Just how important was she? "… And that she would rather die than become a whore." Keleskladt finished. Merdan nodded slowly, considering. "Let her die then." He said with a shrug. "I have no time for liabilities and that is exactly what we have on our hands. I'm not taking the risk that someone finds her here and takes that back to the capital. Too much has gone on already that would hang us a thousand times over. Too bad." He said finally. He darted a meaningful look between both of the men. "You know what to do?" Keleskladt and Najwal nodded, smiling. "Good." Merdan replied. "Get rid of her." *********** The mood was somber and silent at the memorial service as one by one those who had known the recently deceased master, in whose honor the remembrance was held, filed out of the large chamber, walking with their heads bowed and eyes low. A much beloved member of the jedi order was gone, mercifully taken into the embrace of the force through old age and not through illness or violence. All the same it was with a heavy heart that the gathering of masters, knights and a select number of older padawans remembered the crčche master Rhuziat-Nam-Onnath and mourned the loss of a tender and caring individual. One master in particular seemed to linger by the funeral pyre a little longer than most, lost in memories of days gone by. The jedi taught that from endings came beginnings, a complete circle of life. Zia had ended one journey and started another, yet it was very hard at that moment to do anything other than grieve. Mace Windu waited for Qui-Gon as he exited the room. "A sad day." He smiled thinly. "I don't think anyone could have said a bad word about Master Onnath in all her long life." "That is the way to measure a person's achievements." Qui-Gon agreed, matching Mace with a smile of his own. "She cared very much for each and every child that was placed in her charge. We will all miss her." "Some of us more than others." Mace turned his head slightly and indicated the fair-haired master that lingered by the cremated remains, battling with his own thoughts. Qui-Gon agreed, following Mace's gaze. "Dex was very fond of Zia." He acknowledged. "She was extremely kind to him when we were but mischievous initiates searching for a master. He's taken her death quite hard." "Your padawan couldn't make it?" Mace tried to turn his attention away from the sorrowful scene behind him. "I wasn't sure if I wanted him to witness a scene like this so early in his life." Qui-Gon considered. "He's faced death himself and had the misfortune to witness it close up so he's more than aware of the stark realities of life but even so…" "Understandable." Mace conceded. "It's never pleasant whatever age. She had a good life though. That's all you can ask at the end of the day." "That's what I keep telling myself." Qui-Gon's eyes returned to Dex. "No doubt that's what he's telling himself, too." Mace continued to walk away from the funeral chamber, Qui-Gon at his side. Dwelling on sadness achieved little but an aching heart. Time to remember Zia with fondness and affection…and a small amount of alcohol. "Zia wouldn't want us to mourn." Mace shook his head emphatically. "You know, she wasn't against taking the occasional nip of something when she wasn't on duty. For a giant squirrel she could knock it back a bit!" "That disgusting mint concoction." Qui-Gon pulled a face. "How can I forget?" "Some of the others have got a remembrance party arranged. Want to go?" Mace scratched absently at the top of his shiny cranium. "Evla and a few of the others decided it might be nice to celebrate her life." "I'd like to," Jinn admitted, "but I can't. I have a meeting with Yoda to see to. Maybe afterwards. If there is an afterwards, you know what Yoda's briefings are like." "Hmm." Mace agreed. "Looks like a new mission for you and your padawan could be in the offing." "You know about it?" "I'm not allowed to say." Windu said a little smugly. "Let's just say it's got the council's stamp of approval." Qui-Gon muttered something unintelligible. "Pardon?" asked Mace. "I said, it looks like I don't have a choice." Replied Qui-Gon. "Not when you've been requested personally by Chancellor Valorum, no." Mace stopped in his tracks, letting his words sink in. "Dangerous?" Qui-Gon frowned. "Aren't all missions?" retorted Mace. "And Valorum asked for me personally? What could be that important?" "Uh-uh." Windu clamped his lips closed. "That's for Yoda to discuss. I'm sure he will be only to glad to fill you in on all the details." Qui-Gon let out an irritated hiss of breath. "You know my favorite kind of mission?" he asked Mace, narrowing his eyes. "What?" "The kind where I am allowed to sit on a river bank on some remote planet and spend all my time fishing." He growled. "I don't see that as Obi-Wan's kind of thing." Mace smirked. "He seems altogether more…" "Hyperactive?" Qui-Gon offered. "Normal, was what I was going to say." Windu's face broke into a grin. "I don't see what the attraction is of hunting innocent little aquatic creatures." "There's nothing wrong with it." Qui-Gon said indignantly. "It's a better pastime than some people round here have. It's relaxing…" "Not for the fish." Mace pointed out. "…And it's a good opportunity to be calm and feel at peace with the force. If they don't take the bait there's always tomorrow. Always a bigger fish." "Like Peregrat?" Windu chuckled, remembering Qui-Gon's ongoing battle with the two hundred and odd year old Korrassi Pike. "Shut up." Jinn grumbled. "I have to see a troll about a mission. Maybe I'll catch up with you later…but what about Dex?" Mace looked back over his shoulder even though Dex was not in his line of vision. "He'll be OK." Windu decided. "I'm sure he'll follow on in his own time. I've never yet met a Corellian that couldn't find his way to a party." Qui-Gon couldn't resist smiling at that. "How very true." He laughed. |