“The Byne Guild handles shipping throughout the sector.” Affie sounded proud. “We’re just one of the Byne Guild’s ships—one of the smaller ones, honestly—but Scover Byne still gave us the first-ever mission to Coruscant.”
Reath, embarrassed by his tactlessness about “the frontier,” was eager to move the conversation forward. He felt sure that this was his opening to ask more about Leox and Affie, their ship, and why they’d earned this particular honor. He also found himself eager to explain the Jedi Order to people who somehow had never heard of it.
But all conversation came to an end as Leox and Affie stopped their group at the edge of the cockpit. “And this here,” Leox said with a grin, “is our ship’s navigator, Geode.”
Standing in one corner of the cockpit was a rock.
About as tall as and slightly wider than Reath himself, dark gray, with rounded edges and a flinty, flaky surface. Impressive, as rocks went. But still, it was just a rock, wasn’t it? Reath frowned, sure this was some kind of weird joke.
“He’s a Vintian, from Vint.” Leox lazily wrapped an arm around the rock’s “shoulders,” just like anyone would with a friend. “Geode’s a nickname, by the way. Turns out you can’t pronounce his name correctly unless you don’t have a mouth.”
Reath tried to parse that, and failed. His main consolation was that Dez and Master Cohmac looked as confused as he felt. Orla Jareni, however, wore another of her knowing grins.
“Geode, huh?” she said. “Pleased to know you.”
Affie briefly patted Geode’s side. “He’s a little shy at first, but just wait until he gets to know you.”
Leox cackled as he began leading them from the cockpit into the ship. “Yeah, you just wait. But I don’t want to give you fellas the wrong idea. Geode’s a wild man, for sure, but when it comes to steering the ship, he’s all business.”
“Solid, you might say.” Orla raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Let’s get a look at our bunks.”
“Well, we sort of have to create your bunks before you can see them,” Affie admitted. “Might as well get started.”
Great, Reath thought as he turned to follow the others. Not only am I headed to the back end of the galaxy, but the job of getting us through hyperspace belongs to a rock.
Sometimes the Force had a sense of humor.
Within the half hour, their temporary quarters had all been built and assigned, and both passengers and crew had strapped in for takeoff. From where Reath sat, he could just glimpse the cockpit window, framed by control panels on one side and the outline of Geode (still motionless) in what must have been the navigator’s position. He had to crane his neck for that look, but it was worth it. This was the last time he would see Coruscant for many months, maybe a year; Reath refused to consider the possibility of his assignment lasting any longer than that.
Home, he thought. The word pierced him like an arrow. The Jedi were not taught to think of their temples as home, nor the planets where they’d been born. Yet the longing for a home was something that no sentient being could ever completely be free of. Reath didn’t want to be free of it. He wanted to remember Coruscant just like this—glittering, prosperous, ascendant.
Do you resist your duty, my Padawan? Master Jora’s voice echoed within Reath’s memory, gently amused but pointed, too. Surely that is unworthy of a Jedi.
I want to do my duty, Reath replied in his own head, more clearly than he’d managed to express himself to Master Jora when they’d last spoken. But I feel that my duty is here, on Coruscant, in the Archives.
He reminded himself that if something was telling him he shouldn’t change his life at all, not even a tiny bit, that might not be the Force.
But it might be.
Reath scrunched down in his seat, clinging to his trust in the instincts that told him this entire trip was a bad idea, at least for him. The other three Jedi all looked steady, even serene. He envied them their certainty, their steadfast connection to the Force.
When I’ve passed my trials, Reath mused, I’ll be like them. Steady and sure. With purpose. Without any conflicts or doubts.
Orla Jareni braced her hands on the thickly padded straps of her safety harness. This was rougher transit than she was used to—the kind of thing she’d hoped to find on the frontier and had found even closer to home. She wanted to see it as a good sign, but it was always a mistake to carve omens out of hope, or dread. True omens created themselves and could not be mistaken when they came.
No signs had yet appeared to prove that she’d made the right decision.
Should I take it all back? Orla wondered. The Council wouldn’t begrudge me that. If I tell them I was wrong, then—
Then you’ll break faith with yourself. At least begin. Go back to the origins of it all. Then you’ll know whether you’ve made the right decision.
Or not.
The hood of a cloak could serve many purposes: warmth, disguise, muffling of excess noise, and so on. At the moment of their departure, Cohmac Vitus had his pulled up as a shield. He was working too hard at mastering his emotions to worry about controlling every flicker of feeling that might appear on his face. The turmoil within had to be quieted before he undertook his responsibilities on the frontier.
Volunteering for this had felt like the right move, at the time. Not only was it important work, but it also took Cohmac back to the place where—in his mind—he had ceased to be a student and become a Jedi in truth. The Knighthood trials had been only a formality after the Eiram–E’ronoh crisis.
But whenever Cohmac thought about those events, he had to fight back emotions no Jedi was supposed to experience.
Going back will give you peace, he told himself. You will finally be able to set those feelings aside for all time.
When Cohmac had told himself that on Coruscant, he’d believed it.
Now he wasn’t as sure.
Dez Rydan’s long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and he’d leaned his jump seat far enough back that he thought he had a chance of dozing off once they were underway. He’d expected this moment to feel more fraught, but instead he was invigorated. The mere making of a decision sometimes had as much power as any action. Purpose clarified every move, every thought.
Master Jora would no doubt say that he should be more careful. That craving adventure as he did could lead to other cravings less compatible with the role of a Jedi.
But resigning from the Zeitooine mission as suddenly as he had—questions had been asked and would be asked again.
You did what you had to do, Dez thought. If you’d stayed any longer, your frustration would’ve ripened into anger. Aren’t you done second-guessing yourself yet?
He’d thought he was. For the moment that was true. But only time would tell how long his resolution would hold.
In the cockpit, Leox nodded as the coordinates came up on their screen. A few strands of his meditation beads, draped over the landing-strut lever, swayed and clicked as Affie eased the Vessel off the landing pad and beyond the spaceport’s confines into the rush of Coruscant. “Good job, Geode,” Leox said. “I’m about ready to get off this crazy planet. It’s so built-up and busy, being outside still feels like being inside.”