Annara observed the volatile discussion as it threatened to explode and then steadily deflated, leaving only a quiet awkwardness in its wake. With all focus jumping between Zira waving a disruptor rifle around and Karl's retorts, all eyes were elsewhere as she regarded each of the others in turn. She sensed that the Twi'lek, Shakka, was uncharacteristically silent - but could feel the cogs turning in her head from across the room. She was patient, calculating. Ann felt Shakka's attention shift in her direction almost intuitively and she looked away. The ewok was attempting to mediate, displaying a level of compassion and selective wisdom that reminded Ann of another diminutive and often confusing person she'd once known. Nevertheless, she sensed a well of rage and torment, depthless and insatiable. It was only thinly concealed beneath the eloquent self-presentation, a swirling vortex desperate to rise to the top and pull everything down into its depths. The others didn't seem to know, still consumed by their superficial disagreements and bias.
There was a time when Ann would have agonised over the minutiae of each person's perspective and expended all efforts to negotiate a fair compromise between the agrieved parties. A whisper in her mind, little more than a half-familiar instinct, insisted she reawaken the side of herself buried so long beneath the bodies of the thousands she'd killed. It frightened her how little remorse she felt for their deaths the moment she held her daughter in her arms after so many years; how quickly she washed away the blood of the innocent and guiltly alike. Meanwhile the people around her were lost, drifting, their lives out of focus but so certain their actions righteous - so occupied with the desire to control the world around them to feel safe and secure, to find ways to make others reaffirm their own narrow worldview. This blinded them to the simple reality of life: the very force binding them together, connecting each and every one of them, remained indifferent to their petty squabbles. The fabric of the universe was constantly at war with itself through all of them and like so many they made the mistake of thinking they were the main character of the story. As a very dear friend once told her...
'The sparrow hates the hawk who hunts him, but he doesn't stop to ask the mouse how it feels.'
Everyone turned to look at her. 'Excuse me?' Asked Zira, puzzled.
'You're so blinded by your fear and your rage that you can't even see you're the same as you perceive the mercenary to be,' Ann asserted. She spoke slowly, eyes locked with Zira's. 'The very reason you brought a gun to the table was because you believe he is an imperial - dangerous, untrustworthy, violent. You demanded his compliance through the threat of violence and death; the very thing that you despise about the empire and all those who were a part of it. You think you are righteous, standing against those who are threatening you and your own, that it is the self-determined nobility of your actions that separates you from those who you think are lesser because you've judged their reasons unworthy. Hate is hate. Violence is violence. Death is death. How quickly we can cross the lines we draw for ourselves, the ones that separate us from the supposed bad guys.
The truth is that the only difference is which end of the gun you're on. I understand better than most what it's like to feel backed into a corner, forced to do what was once unthinkable to survive, but don't kid yourself for a second into believing that in this moment you're any better than Karl, ex-imperial or otherwise. You've both done what you thought necessary to survive, but the truth is you both had a choice. It is hypocrisy to judge his decisions considering your own. The war only ends when we make peace with our enemies. You really think the man who died trying to save all of you, complete strangers, would then want you or him to get killed for the sake of his own dead body? I don't think so. And it does not honour his memory to waste that sacrifice by nearly shooting each other in the very same ship he once called home. Karl's clearly left the war behind but I can't say the same of you. The only real enemy you have in this room is your own fear.'
Zira was too taken aback to speak, trying to process Ann's words. Jirano stepped towards Ann, hands raised to signal a halt. 'Ann, please, that isn't going to help.' There was a sense of hesitation in his voice. Zira felt a new wave of anger wash over her. Why was her uncle not defending her? Why was he so timid in the face of this criticism from a total stranger who didn't know the first thing about them? Was he... scared of her?
'I think it is,' replied Ann genuinely, her voice softening slightly. 'You're all locked in the trash compactor without a hydro spanner and your niece is picking fights with the same people that kept you both alive on Nar Shaddaa.'
'You're really going to lecture me on the morality of violence and killing? The one they call the butcher.' Zira managed to blurt out defiantly.
'Yes. I am,' said Ann tersely. She stopped leaning against the wall, standing up straight and approaching the young pilot. She placed a hand on her shoulder and felt Zira repressing the urge to recoil. An observer might assume it was because she was forced to stare into the jagged mesh of old, pale scars across Ann's face, but it was her unblinking, cold, dead eyes that really made Zira squirm. It was like staring into an abyss. 'You don't want to walk where I've walked, kid. It's a lonely road. The best any of us can hope for when we're in the trenches is for someone watching our back. If you're serious about dealing with this Kel Trask and living to tell the tale, I suggest you stop looking for what makes you different to others and start embracing what makes you the same - even if you have to start with the ugliest, nastiest part of yourself. The part we all like to pretend doesn't exist. We're all - literally - in the same boat here.'
After a pause, Ann shrugged and withdrew her hand. 'Somethin' to think about.'
Ego glanced at each of the women above him. 'I do believe madam Annara makes a valid point, madam Zira, even though she seems unaware we are in a starship and not a trash compactor. And I'm not sure how a hydro spanner is going to help, except perhaps to dispatch this Trask fellow with a firm knock to the back of the head. Sir Karl and madam Victoria both aided the rescue of sir Uncle-Jirano and madam Shakka. They put their own lives at risk in the process. I believe that is all the proof we need as to their intentions aboard this ship. Whatever their motives were originally, they have not wronged us in any way and we may need their assistance to deal with the current problem.'
'So what, I'm just supposed to go and say I'm sorry? Even if I wanted to, you think that's going to magically fix everything?' Zira sighed. 'Yeah, right.'
'It would be a start. But if I were you I'd find out what he likes to drink,' said Ann. 'There are also bigger things at work here. As you said, Jirano, it is a very real possibility that our fates have intertwined for a purpose that is not yet clear.' She turned to face the Nautolan as she spoke. 'We would be wise to reflect on your premonition sooner rather than later.'
'I have a suspicion it has something to do with these Utanxi,' replied Jirano, stroking his chin contemplatively. 'The fact that the empire was so interested in this backwater world that just so happened to have a native species so naturally adept in the ways of the force can't be a coincidence. I met this woman, Cara. A local. She wanted my help to find a way to communicate with the Utanxi.'
'Gentle reminder: the Utanxi continue to hold unit Jethro captive and the statistical probability of his termination has increased by twelve point three seven percent during this discussion,' interjected Roger
2. 'This unit strongly recommends enacting rescue protocols. I will require two units on overwatch while I extract unit Jethro.'
'We know nothing about them,' Jirano pointed out. 'We could be starting an all out war with them when there could be a diplomatic solution.'
Ego frowned. 'Sir Uncle-Jirano! I have encountered these brutes myself and I can assure you they are not open to a reasonable discussion. It is unconscionable to abandon Sir Jethro to die a most gruesome death at the hands of those savages. He displayed great bravery and did not hesitate to protect one of his own tribe. Although I do not doubt Sir Roger's capabilities, his last solo attempt at a rescue mission was foiled by these nefarious villains. If captain Photon Lightspeed were here, he would fly in with turbolasers blazing before they knew what hit them and save the princess! Err, I mean, sir Jethro.'
'You're talking about massacring a pre-industrial society in their native land. As far as they're concerned, we're all trespassers and there's no distinction between former slaves or empire. We're all just invaders,' Jirano countered.
Zira shook her head, frustration written across her face. 'Forgive me, uncle, but I'm still more concerned about the republic ambassador threatening to make us intergalactic fugitives if we don't do his dirty work. I'm sorry, but Jethro is probably dead already. I don't want you risking your life again on a wild bantha chase and I certainly don't want to deal with Trask on my own. Please, uncle, I need your help
right now.' She couldn't help but glance at the silver hilt hanging from Ann's belt. All of those old stories... the way he was starting to speak the past few days since meeting Shakka and Ann. There was a twinge in her heart, something between hope, excitement and fear, as she began to imagine him as one of the legendary Jedi warriors. With that kind of power, people like Kel Trask wouldn't be able to get away with threatening and... using people. She looked down. Something about what Ann had said replayed in her mind. Were they all just the same, trapped in a cycle of using whatever power they had to dominate and threaten each other? What separated her from someone like Kel Trask, another loyal member of the Republic, except for their own individual point of view? After all, they had already been reported for the murder of Vance Kest regardless of Kel Trask's involvement and he was the only one offering them a chance to clear their names, assuming his word was worth a damn. She shook off the sea of doubts threatening to drown her.
'Zira, I promise you will not have to face this danger alone. Not now, not ever,' Jirano reassured her. The words almost caught in the back of his throat, a part of him knowing that was a promise he may not be able to keep and yet his heart demanded he make the promise anyway.
'What exactly does he want us to do?' A curious voice, sweet as honey, cut through the tension in the room. Zira looked at Shakka and composed herself. 'He wants us to undermine the mayor. Get some dirt on him, expose him, that kind of thing. Figure out if there's some kind of conspiracy involving the Vorn.'
'So the Republic can swoop in as heroes and save the town on top of the gold mine,' Shakka grinned with amusement. 'And how exactly does he expect us to do that?'
'For one thing, he's got spy droids all over the town. He thinks the mayor's hiding something in his complex. Says there's been suspicious cargo delivered in the dead of night during curfew. Whoever they are, they know how to avoid the Marshal's patrols and bypass the security grid. They go in through the back door.'
'Huh,' murmured Jirano. 'Jevin gave me an old code to the back door of the mayor's building.'
'What? How - why?' Zira exclaimed.
'He used to work for the mayor. They were friends, even.'
Shakka tutted. 'How old exactly? The code.'
Jirano shrugged. 'I don't know. A few months, maybe. Maybe longer.'
'So the bottom line is we either do Trask's dirty work, become top of the most wanted list in all of civilised space or we just kill him,' Shakka stated flatly, the sweetness drained from her words and replaced with a seriousness most of them hadn't heard from her before. She suggested murder so casually tacked onto the list of options that it caught Jirano off guard. Was this truly someone he wished to empower with the secrets of using the force? His mind raced at the possibilities of someone capable of killing so easily having that kind of power. Anything she did after he trained her would be his responsibility. Maybe the Jedi were meant to stay dead. No, he couldn't believe that. The force had brought them together with Ann for a reason.
'Explain to me how assassinating a Republic ambassador makes any kind of fracking sense?!' Zira couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.
'It makes sense if you don't get caught. Sure, we could go ask the walking armory to shoot a wrist rocket through the window and have every local goon in town on our case or... we could use a more delicate approach. Leave no evidence. Accidents happen all the time, after all.'
'No!' Jirano raised his voice for the first time. 'I'm not going to condone cold blooded murder just to save ourselves a headache. That cannot be something we're seriously considering... Right? Right?' He looked around the room. Shakka's eyes seemed to pierce right through him. Zira looked away. Ego sighed.
'Sir Uncle-Jirano, this
Trask has threatened your... our, tribe. We must be prepared to defend ourselves.'
Ann folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. 'You know, there's something else you haven't considered.'
'What's that?' Asked Jirano, grateful for the possibility of an alternative that didn't involve murdering a someone.
'That he might be right.' She let the idea hang in the air for a moment. 'I don't know if you noticed, but this town is on the verge of collapse. Whatever the mayor's deal is, he's consigned these people to a slow death. I don't know if this New Republic is anything like the one I served before the empire - and I'm not sure it would even be a good thing if it is - but I do know that all of the people here are doomed without help. Change is inevitable in this place, one way or the other. Kel Trask is some sort of bastard I'm sure, but at least he cares enough to try and help these people. I don't disagree, you have to protect your family. But trust me... if all you have left is survival, you become hollow. You should be asking yourselves who you want to be when you leave this place. If you kill Kel Trask, you might just be killing everyone in this town as well. They're too stubborn to leave, too loyal to turn on their own leader. If the Utanxi don't slaughter them and those Vorn pirates don't take over, they'll be tearing each other apart for a scrap of food before winter's end without the Republic.'
'So you're saying we should just do what he wants? Be his puppets when there's no guarantee he won't betray us anyway?' Zira yelled, frustration boiling into anger again.
'No. I'm saying you should ask yourself if you can live with the consequences of your actions. If not, you might as well have died on Nar Shaddaa, because a part of you will die here and you will never get it back.' Ann turned away, not meeting anyone's eyes for the first time. There was a slight tremble in her voice. 'Excuse me. I need to check on Myala,' she murmured as she rushed out of the lounge. Her footsteps echoed through the circular walkways as they receded, before disappearing entirely after the sound of a metallic door closing. It was uncomfortably quiet for several seconds.
'She really lights up a room,' Shakka scoffed. Zira almost laughed, but the way the butcher's calm, cold demeanor had briefly wavered made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. How far was she really willing to go? What could she live with?
Shakka continued. 'We didn't ask for any of this and it's sure as hell not our job to save a bunch of colonists with a death wish.'
'No, we didn't ask for this. It doesn't mean they don't matter. You should know better than anyone what it's like to be without your freedom,' Jirano rebuked. 'They are inherently worthy of our help. Like it or not, we are in a position to help these people. Let's not forget, we came to their home seeking refuge and they welcomed us. The least we can do is show them the same basic kindness.'
'Sir Uncle-Jirano, they have also pointed blasters at us, threatened us with droids even less cordial than Sir Roger - no offense intended, Sir Roger - and quite honestly they seem determined to perish regardless of what we do. Perhaps the wisest course of action is to do nothing and hope that they find the wisdom to realise living on this dreadful ice ball is a terrible idea and then go to somewhere much, much nicer of their own volition. Somewhere warm, without invisible giant spiders.'
'Niamos,' said Shakka longingly. 'We should all go to Niamos.'
'Oh, I haven't heard of it. Is it nice, madam Shakka?'
'Absolutely divine, my little fuzzy friend,' she smiled playfully. 'No, seriously. We should just dispose of Trask and go to Niamos. We've got enough money to have some fun! And at least I won't have to wear one of those disgusting fur coats just so my Lekku won't freeze off.' She raised her hand. 'I vote we punch Trask's ticket and book ours to planet party.'
'We are not voting on killing a man!' Jirano snapped.
'That is not very democratic of you, Sir Uncle-Jirano. I believe it is only fair we weigh up all of the facts and reach an informed consensus as a group. After this vote, I vote we take a vote to make those nasty disruptor weapons illegal.'
'They are illegal,' said Shakka, rolling her eyes.
'No, no, madam Shakka - we have to reach a consensus
before we declare the motion passed. I'm not sure any of you understand democratic process.'
Zira and Jirano glanced at each other, amusement mirrored. At least some things never changed.
'Didn't you burn a man alive just for getting in your way?' Shakka frowned.
'Ahem. That was different.'
'We're going to be here awhile, aren't we?' Zira groaned.
'Roger roger.'
'Speaking of money, we've still got to figure out if we're accepting the Marshal's job to deal with the bandits south of here,' Jirano pointed out, attempting to once again steer the conversation away from pre-meditated murder. 'You're all free to go your separate ways if you want when we leave, and I'm happy to split the reward. But let's be clear, Zira and I will not be going anywhere with this ship until we've resolved the Trask problem. We have family in the Republic. I will not take any action that will consign my own niece to life as an outlaw in the outer rim for the rest of her days. I don't know that I agree with everything Ann said, but we are stronger if we work together and look out for each other. I aim to help these people and in doing so, we
are helping ourselves. I hope you can all understand that.'
'Uncle,' Zira said softly, gently touching his arm. 'It's... really nice to hear you speak like that again. But... We may have to consider doing things we don't want to do if we want to survive this. Right now, I think we need to keep all of our options on the table. There might not be a version of this story that has a happy ending.'