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Chapter 7 - Pieces on the Board
Closer to the cockpit than his Master, Obi-wan beat the older man by a few seconds. When Qui-Gon did enter the room, his Padawan at once noticed the distant look in his eyes, and was about to ask him about it when the Jedi Master sent him a reassuring look, accompanied by a quick quirk of the lips. Rolling his eyes, Obi-wan turned back to the console.
“That’s it,” said the pilot, relief and trepidation evident in his voice, “Tatooine.”
“There’s a settlement,” remarked Obi-wan, his eyes scanning the datascreen.
“Land near the outskirts, we don’t want to attract attention.”
And with a quick turn, the older Jedi was gone.
X X X X
“Al-ya! Al-yaaaa!”
The wailing cry was the only warning before a massive weight hit her from behind.
“J-Jar Jar?” she gasped, the air having been knocked out of her.
“No go!” the Gungan wailed, wrapping his arms around her as he cried, “No make mesa go! Me no wanna go to dat bad place!”
“Air! Air becoming an issue!” Alia replied weakly, her voice hoarse and wheezy from lack of oxygen, “Jar Jar let go!”
Struggling to breathe, Alia failed to notice one of the Queen’s handmaidens approach. Slowly Jar Jar’s long arms relinquished their hold on his friend, who promptly bent over in an effort to relieve the sudden bout of dizziness that swept through her. The oxygen rushing back to her lungs, Alia took in several deep breaths to clear her lightheadedness before looking up.
“Sapheia leukei, basilatris,” she said, giving the handmaiden a quirky smile, “My thanks.” Be blessed in wisdom, handmaiden.
The handmaiden inclined her head, averting her eyes. Bemused, Alia shrugged her shoulders before looking back to Jar Jar, who was wringing his hands. She smiled gently at her friend.
“I’m fine,” she reassured him, her vivid eyes gentle, “Now, what’s the problem?”
“Dat Jedi say wesa need some stuffs fwam dat place! Hesa say mesa go wit him! Me no wanna, Al-ya! No let dem make mesa go!”
“Jar Jar, if Master Jinn or Padawan Kenobi told you you’re needed, then they need you.”
The look of dismay on his face was enough to evaporate any remaining resentment she might have felt at almost being made into an Alia-sandwich composed of one side hysterical Gungan and one side metallic flooring.
“Look, who told you to go into the city?” Alia asked patiently, “Master Jinn or his Padawan?”
Somehow, despite his height and unmistakably alien features, Jar Jar managed a credible impersonation of a small school-boy who doesn’t want to admit the truth, even scuffing a thick foot and digging one of his toes into the floor.
“Da old one,” was his reluctant reply.
Attention centered on her friend, Alia nevertheless caught the faint look of amusement that flew across the handmaiden’s face and shot the younger woman a quick smile before answering Jar Jar, missing her involuntary shiver at Alia’s quick glance.
“I trust him,” she said quietly, reaching up to place a hand on her friend’s face, her brilliant eyes gazing directly at the Gungan, “I feel it in my heart, Jar Jar. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her face hidden at the moment, the handmaiden felt free to study the blue-eyed woman before her as she interacted with the Gungan. Curious, and unable to quell the urge, the handmaiden spoke, her voice quiet and soft.
“You give your trust too easily to a stranger.”
Breaking eye contact with her friend, Alia gave him a quick hug before sending him down toward the main area of the ship. As she watched his retreating figure, Alia slid a glance at the handmaiden, noticing now the way the younger woman shivered at her gaze. Frowning at the slight hurt that accompanied the realization, Alia turned back to watch Jar Jar disappear at the turn in the corridor.
“Perhaps you and your Queen trust too little.”
The words were spoken just as quietly, but Alia thought she must have hit a nerve as the handmaiden’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.
“I’m Alia.”
There. A peace offering.
“I know.”
The reply was short and curt, punctuated by the swirl of the handmaiden’s robes as she turned to leave. Disappointed, Alia turned to return to the cargo hold when she heard the younger woman’s faint reply.
“I’m Padmé.”
X X X X
Despite the fact that it wasn’t quite midday and there were vital parts that were needed, Qui-Gon was quite ready to put Tatooine behind them. He had good reason: millions of them, as a matter of fact. And all of them were microscopic particles of glass that rhymed with “bland” and “tanned”… both were apt terms for the environment. Sand. Miles and miles of wasteland desert, the only hint of civilization a smuggler’s haven directly in front of them. He sighed, mulling over the words he had last spoken to his Padawan as he began the trek toward Mos Espa.
/ ‘Be wary...I sense a disturbance in the Force.’[i] Yes, but just what sort of disturbance, hmmm? Anything in particular? Or any-ONE? /
“Wait!”
A smile stretching across his lips before he had a chance to realize it, Qui-Gon turned around, noting that his Gungan companion had turned too quickly and was now picking himself up from the sand.
“I’m beginning to fear this is to be the pattern for every conversation we are to have, Alia Despin,” he said loudly, smile still in place as he turned.
She had obviously been running to catch up with them, another stitch in the pattern, he noted with amusement, but had slowed her pace to a prim walk at his teasing words.
“I just wanted to give you something before you left,” Alia answered, nose in the air. She held out a bulky package, obviously wrapped by hand, which he took with questioning eyes.
“They’re water-pouches,” she explained, to which the Gungan responded with a whooping call. Rrriipp! The two humans looked on, one stunned into fascinated horror and the other hard pressed to restrain her laughter, as Jar Jar spread the contents of the pouch over the length of his arms and neck, smearing it over and over until his skin fairly shone in the twin suns’ glare.
“If you’re going to take him into danger, the least you can do is make sure his skin doesn’t dry out too much,” Qui-Gon heard Alia say, sensing both her seriousness and worry beneath her teasing manner.
“If that is all you ask I believe I can accommodate your friend to your satisfaction,” he answered in the same tone, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
A similar smile appeared on Alia’s face, and a strange quality entered her eyes.
“I know you can,” she said softly before turning back to the ship, “I know you will.”
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Eyes troubled as he watched Qui-Gon smile at the stranger, Obi-wan resolutely turned his back on them, steering away from the annoyance and desperation that was welling inside him as he climbed back up the ramp of the ship. His face was a blank mask as he strode through the interior of the ship, ignorant to the stares of the various personnel around him. As he turned into the cargo hold, seating himself gracefully into a meditative position, he was still not-thinking about them.
/ Force, what is wrong with me? What is it about her that threatens me, what is it that makes me feel as if she is some kind of rival? / he wondered, willing himself to relax, to be calm and at peace.
Gradually, his anger and annoyance began to fade and he was bathed in the cool, familiar touch of the Force. As his thinking became more organized, however, the questions in his heart became much more difficult.
/ Anger, annoyance to the point of nearly using my powers to exact petty reprisal, jealousy….these are not the way of the Jedi, to be ruled by emotions. How can I call myself Qui-Gon’s apprentice if I cannot control my emotions as I have been taught?/
A lump formed in his throat at the thought of shaming his Master, of seeing that flash of disappointment in Qui-Gon’s eyes when Alia was sitting with them in meditation and he had been about to Force-push her in a moment of irritation. Obi-wan never wanted to see that flash again.
/ Somehow she is a threat to me. /
The thought was an exasperating one, yet it was also accompanied by a strange tightening in his chest, leading to an unevenness of breath in his lungs. He didn’t want her to be an enemy, Obi-wan realized suddenly; he truly did not. And the emotions surrounding that thought he ignored as best he could, breaking off from his trance to take another look at the hyperdrive. And no, he wasn’t denying anything at all.
X X X X
Unseen blackness spun and whirled around him, cloaking him in its sweet intoxication. He smiled from beneath his hood as he looked out at the glittering city. Everything was falling into place perfectly.
He was not one to act quickly; it had taken years to train his apprentice, and now was the perfect time to test that training. Lifting his head slightly, he sent an order; within seconds, Maul was waiting at his side. Turning, he spoke to his apprentice:
“What have you discovered?”
“They are in the Outer Rim, my lord; Tatooine was the planet that received the communications signal.”
His master was silent, staring at the glowing metropolis that would be the center of his empire, if his patience did not fail him.
“Tatooine is sparsely populated,” his apprentice continued, “If the trace was correct, I will find them quickly, Master.”
“Move against the Jedi first; you will then have little difficulty in taking the Queen back to Naboo, where she will sign the treaty.”
Darth Maul looked out at the thousands upon thousands of lights that made up Coruscant, the planet of a city. He pulled back his lips in a silent snarl at the thought of the Jedi Temple that stood not far from their current position. Looking back to his master, he was filled with the hate that had been his sustenance, the nourishment that fed him strength in his training.
“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi,” he said, his passion and malice chilled to match the cold hatred in his eyes, “At last we will have our revenge.”
The Sith known as Darth Sidious smiled in the night.
“You have been well-trained, my young apprentice. They will be no match for you.”
X X X X
Tap tap.
Tap tap tap.
Tap tap.
Tap tap tap.
Her fingers twitched, and for an insane, surreal moment, Eirtaé seriously considered annoyance as a justification of murder. / Lady Innin, anything to stop that tapping! / If the stranger didn’t stop, there was going to be blood on the walls. And it wouldn’t be Eirtaé’s.
“Perhaps Padawan Kenobi might have something for you to do, Lady Alia. No doubt another mind would bring fresh insight and see things we might ourselves have missed in our haste.”
Beneath the flame-colored hood of her dress, Eirtaé blessed her fellow Handmaiden and pseudo-Queen a thousand times for her mild suggestion, mentally kissing her feet in thanks. The woman, Alia, gave a sudden laugh, however, smiling widely at the handmaidens and the seated decoy.
“That eager to get rid of me, are you?” she said in a wry tone, chuckling as she continued, “I don’t blame you. Jaris used to say being locked in a room with me when I was bored was a fate worse than death. And that was when I was sick with norosema and all I would do was moan and gripe and complain.”
She was laughing and yet, something in her strange, frighteningly blue eyes caught Eirtaé like an insect in a spider’s web. Something filled with pain and regret. The handmaiden once again had cause to bless Sabé as she spoke again, asking Eirtaé’s question for her.
“Is Jaris a friend?” the decoy Queen asked cautiously.
“He’s my brother.” The woman’s eyes softened, and though they were still strange and disconcerting, they no longer frightened Eirtaé. How could she be frightened when the obvious love the stranger, Alia, felt about her brother was so visible? For a few moments there was silence as Alia seemed to wander, her eyes growing distant before coming back to reality. Eirtaé watched as with a shake of her head the stranger spared them another smile before asking, “And you, Highness: do you have any siblings?”
Beneath her robes Eirtaé tensed, sensing not only Rabé’s sudden change in stance but Sabé’s as well. Though her painted face gave no hint of her disquiet, Eirtaé hadn’t missed the slight catch in her breathing. Holding her breath, the handmaiden waited for Sabé’s response with anxious anticipation.
“Yes,” answered the pseudo-Queen hesitantly, “I do. My sisters live in Deeja Peak near my parents, while my brother…he came to Theed to support me.”
“Ah,” was all the stranger said, compassion softening her voice, “Is he in one of the camps?”
“I don’t know.” Eirtaé’s heart nearly broke at the slight emotion in Sabé’s voice, at the slight breathiness that followed, “A part of me hopes Breno managed to escape and warn my village, and the other wishes he’d been captured.”
“Because then at least you’d know he hadn’t been killed in the invasion.”
The decoy Queen nodded, her movements slow and laden with sorrow, though whether for her people or her brother, Eirtaé was unable to tell. That would be something to speak with her about later, Eirtaé decided.
“Some of the pilots and Royal guards broke off from our group before we left Theed. Captain Panaka tells me their goal would be to set up a Resistance against the Federation.” A shade passed over the decoy Queen’s eyes, her worry apparent for a brief moment, followed by a glint of resigned familial pride, “I think if he escaped and remained in Theed, he would want to join them.”
“What does your heart tell you?” asked Alia, her voice gentle.
Her fellow Handmaiden sighed, bleakness entering her eyes for just a few moments before being swallowed by Sabé’s practiced control.
“Too many things.”
The four of them sat in silence for another quarter of a cycle, lost in their own thoughts, before Alia stood. Eirtaé watched apprehensively as she approached the decoy Queen slowly, watching her closely for any sign of deceitful intent.
“Say not, the struggle naught availeth; the labor and the wounds are vain, the enemy faints not, nor faileth, and as things have been, they remain,” she said slowly, arresting both Handmaidens and the decoy Queen with her strange, vivid blue gaze.
“If hopes are dupes, fears may be liars; it may be, in yon smoke concealed, your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, and, but for you, possess the field.”
Her gaze upon them increasing in its intensity until it was nearly painful to stare into her brilliant, vivid, electric blue eyes, and with each passing breath Alia’s voice became more and more soothing, more hypnotic, the rhythmic cadence to her words captivating them.
“For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, seem here no painful inch to gain, far back, through creeks and inlets making, comes silent, flooding in, the main.”
As Alia’s eyes fell on her, Eirtaé was conscious of an impression of…something…not quite earthly about the stranger. An impression of goodness and…wholeness...that was just waiting over a brilliant horizon... there was a sense of magnificent completeness just beyond Eirtaé’s reach as she fell deeper and deeper into the stranger’s eyes. Before she was lost, however, Alia spoke again.
“And not by eastern windows only when daylight comes, comes in the light; in front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, but westward, look, the land is bright.” Here her eyes fell on Sabé, releasing Eirtaé from the power of her gaze. “I may not be a Jedi, but I can still…See things, Highness. Many things. Sometimes the future, at times the past.”
She stood taller before them, emotions warring for dominance within her eyes before at last she bowed deeply. Upon straightening, she seemed about to say something when the door leading to the Audience Chamber opened, admitting Captain Panaka and his guards. Flashing a grin to them, Alia’s last words to Sabé before leaving the Audience Chamber comforted Eirtaé in a way that was at once without explanation and yet felt oddly right.
“Don’t be afraid to hope, Highness. Never be afraid to hope.”
X X X X
Fingers aching, eyes sore from strain, she swore in frustration as the vibroknife clutched tightly in her hand slipped, gouging deeply across the top right corner of the board, catching the underside of her pointer finger and slicing it neatly. Alia swore again as she stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking the resulting blood into her mouth in an effort to apply pressure to the wound and stop the bleeding.
“What are you doing?”
Surprised, Alia let loose an undignified squeak, resulting in her teeth biting down hard on her injured finger, which then resulted in another bout of swearing. Angry, annoyed, and embarrassed, her eyes were narrowed to blue slits as she turned to where Qui-Gon’s Padawan stood.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she said in a hostile voice, glaring daggers at him, “I’m making a deji board.”
“A what?”
The expression on his face appeared to be sincere, his curiosity genuine. Releasing her death grip on her pointer finger, Alia reached around in the pack at her side for a strip of cloth, ripped it in two, and bound her injured digit. Taking the other strip of fabric, she retied her hair into a basic queue, her previous attempt when she first began carving the board having come loose in her struggle to make the soft metal panel just right.
“A deji board,” she repeated slowly as she secured her hair messily, “You know, to play deji.”
Nonplussed, Obi-wan could only stare at her in polite confusion.
“You’ve never played deji before, have you?” she asked, a light dawning in her eyes, before they began to sparkle and she smiled brightly, enthusiasm infusing itself in her voice, “Listen, wait a few minutes until I’m done, and we’ll play.”
“No.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice reassuring and confident all at once, “I’ll teach you.”
“No,” Obi-wan protested, suddenly distressed at the thought of spending even more time with the frustrating Alia, “I have things to do.”
She cocked her head, causing the tail of her haphazard queue to brush across her shoulders.
“Then why did you come down here?” she asked, and though she gave him a cheeky smile, Alia’s brilliant blue eyes were serious.
For once, Obi-wan didn’t know what to say.
“Come on,” she pleaded slightly, pushing her bottom lip, “Let me teach you. I think you’ll like it.”
“O-oh?” he replied, his mind hazy at the moment. He hadn’t noticed just how…lovely…her lips were until that moment. Dragging his eyes to hers, he arched an elegant eyebrow, “And why is that?”
Alia laughed, the sound coming out rich and vibrant, sending shivers down the length of his spine.
“It’s a strategy game,” she explained, setting the unfinished game board atop her crossed legs. Smiling, she continued, almost shyly, “You seem like the kind of guy who’d like strategy games.”
And to his immense astonishment, she blushed.
X X X X
/ Oh my Goddess! /[i] Alia thought frantically [i]/ What am I doing?! Am I actually FLIRTING with the smug son of a bantha? An admittedly handsome son of a bantha, but still an annoying son of a bantha! / She felt her blood stain her cheeks, and desperately Willed her hands to remain where they were and not press themselves to her face. A long moment passed between them, before Obi-wan finally spoke.
“Very well.”
One Standard cycle later…
Night had fallen outside the ship, and though most of the cruiser’s lights were shut off in order to use the cover of darkness as protection, one of the cargo holds was lit as merrily as any ballroom.
“Not bad for a beginner,” she said with a satisfied smile, leaning back until her spine touched the hull of the ship, “Not bad at all.”
Obi-wan looked from her small pile of discarded pieces to his large one and smiled slightly.
“My paani would argue otherwise,” he said wryly, trying out the strange word.
Alia shook her head, tossing aside his depreciating remark.
“It was your first time. With a little practice you’d be able to beat even Tarvis.”
“Who is Tarvis?”
“My odest brother.”
“And can you beat this Tarvis?”
“Every day of the week,” she said without hesitation.
He laughed and Alia felt her cheeks redden slightly.
“It’s not that he’s a bad player,” she said, trying to defend herself, “It’s just that I had a better teacher.”
She elaborated when Obi-wan gestured for her to continue.
“His father’s sister,” Alia said fondly, remembering the hours she’d spent learning how to play the game with the Captain, “Matis was a demon deji player when she was on-world.”
Despite his earlier stiffness toward her, Obi-wan was finding the woman intriguing, a seeming paradox wrapped in mystery. As hard as it was to believe, given his reticence, she stimulated him. Intellectually, of course.
“And when she was off-world?”
“She was a pilot; had her own ship and everything.”
A thought struck him.
“You said that Matis was his aunt; was she not yours as well?”
His question obviously caught Alia off-guard, and sent her visibly scrambling for composure before being able to reply.
“Tarvis was-is my foster brother,” she said hesitantly, “I had-have three of them and one foster sister. His family took me in when mine…died.”
Obi-wan could see how uncomfortable she was with the subject, so despite his curiosity, he steered the conversation to something he hoped was less distressing.
“How did you come to meet the Gungan?” he asked, giving her a casual glance before
He was right. Her face seemed to take on a whole other countenance: her eyes brightened and her lips curved into a smile as she began replacing the pieces on the board.
“Two years ago I was traveling around the MidRim systems…”
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Author's Notes
For those of you who have been unable to guess, I’m using uncommon names for Sumerian deities for Naboo deities.
Innin Another name for the Sumerian goddess Ishtar/Inanna.
Norosema a disease found on Dysis.
Arthur H. Clough, the poem The Land is Bright.
Vibroknife Need I say more?
I have a picture of the bag Alia uses to hold her [i]deji[i] pieces; just for you to know, I’m basing deji physically on Chinese Chess, or Xianqgi. They'll be up at my site eventually, but if you're curious, send me a message and I'll direct you to what I had in mind.
