Talking in Space Part 2
Although she’d been told to rest and wanted to, Layla was wide awake and staring at the cabin ceiling. The adrenaline of flying them out had worn off and the deep, shocked depression of seeing Taris being wiped out had settled into her bones. All she could think about was Tilos, her home world. She had only seen the aftermath, but now she had a very clear image of Sith bombardment to add to her nightmares. It was a relief to put off sleeping just a little longer, no matter how bad for her that was, when she heard the quick footsteps coming down the hall. Steven always walked like he was running late for something. She sat up before he came through the door, so he wouldn’t think he’d woken her.
“Hi, Layla.” Even after the day they’d had, he managed to make her name sound like sunshine. “Konshu’s watching the nav computer and I…” A flicker crossed his face, like he was confused. He really was the human manifestation of ‘I forgot what I came in here for’ she thought, smiling slightly. “I checked on Mission.” He finished. “She’s surprisingly coherent. I wouldn’t be, in her shoes.”
“She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” Layla said. “With time, she’ll heal from this.” Like I have. She added silently, not admitting to herself that she was still haunted by Tilos. That was just because she had unfinished business.
“I’ve never been to Dantooine.” Steven brightly changes the subject. “We’ll get to meet more Jedi. It’ll be interesting to see if they’re nicer than Konshu.”
“I’ve met other Jedi.” She told him shortly. “The ones who died on the Endar Spire and… some of the ones who fought in the Mandalorian wars.”
“Right… I forgot you were a pilot then too.” He watched her carefully, like he was waiting for something. “Did you ever meet… Spector and Ammit?” His expression flickers and he looks over his shoulder, like he’d heard a sound.
“No, but my father did.” She said between clenched teeth.
“Huh…” Steven leaned against the wall thoughtfully. “Was there any… you know, signs that they’d be traitors?”
“No. He admired them. Everyone did. They were heroes and what came next… it was completely unexpected. Nobody knew what to think.” She shook her head, remembering her father happily telling her that the two war heroes liked talking with him about his research, that they’d found funds to support his archeology work even during the war. They’d seen the value in extra knowledge of Jedi- no, Sith history. “If you can’t trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?”
He winced. “I see what you mean. I didn’t mean to bring this up…” He always looks so apologetic when she’s the one who brings these things up. Talking to him is just too easy.
“It wasn’t just that the Jedi were traitors, ruthless Sith now. There’s the Dark Side, or whatever corruption they have to worry about. It’s the people who joined them, good, trusted people who turned on us and joined their cause.” She balled her hands into fists in her lap. “Spector deserved to die for what he did. Ammit too. But the ones who fled the Republic and joined them are even worse. They don’t get an excuse of- of magic corruption and they deserve no mercy.”
He flinched. “You say that with a lot of hate.” He sounded worried. Why? “It’s really eating at you… I guess there were people you knew?”
“Yeah, but of all the men who betrayed us, the one that really stands out, the one I respected, was Mogart.”
“That name sounds familiar.” He frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d mentioned to her he got headaches easily.
“It should. He was famous.” Her voice was bitter. “He was my commander during the Mandalorian wars. Taught me everything he could about being a soldier, a pilot. One day, he came to talk to me about how the Republic was so weak after the war, how he didn’t think it would last much longer… I guess he’d just gotten word Spector and Ammit were back from… wherever they went after the fighting stopped. He was trying to recruit me for the Sith. I argued with him, he got angry and left. Never saw him again. A week later, he gave the Sith the codes to bypass our scanners. I remember waking up when they began destroying the docked ships. I knew what had happened almost right away. I just- I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve stopped it all.” The words come out so easily, but it doesn’t relieve the ache in her heart. It’s why she never talks about this. Talking doesn’t help.
“You couldn’t have known what he was going to do.” Steven’s voice was infuriatingly gentle. “You can’t blame yourself for not… magically knowing he was going to betray the Republic after however many years of loyalty.”
“I blame him, not me!” She snapped and Steven knew better than to contradict her.
The silence stretches between them, awkwardly. Finally, he speaks. “I understand why you said you don’t trust easily. Back at the apartment. And why going to the Jedi isn’t such a relief for you.” He came to sit beside her. He glances at the doorway again, frowning. He must not be used to the way the Ebon Hawk sounds while in hyperspace. “Layla… do you ever… feel like your thoughts are not… you?”
“What?” The change in subject had her disoriented for a moment. “How do you mean?”
His eyes, when they meet hers, are a little too wide, almost frightened. “I guess I was just thinking about philosophy of the self.” His answer was not the least bit convincing, she thought, until his whole face brightened. “Have you ever read Klazin? I had a holo of his work. A lot of people think it’s boring, but-”
“A lot of people haven’t read her work.” Layla interrupts, confused. If he’d made up the reason to ask her such a weird question, why was the name of an obscure philosopher, who had written about the self extensively, ready on his tongue?
“Have you though?” He looked hopeful.
“Yeah. My… my father did some excavations on the planet Klazin was from, so he read all the ancient texts available. Even the non historic ones. So I did too.” By the time she’s able to fall asleep, her brain is occupied with old holo images, philosophy and snatches of poetry that Steven had somehow memorized rather than the sound of explosions. She dreamed of reading at her father’s desk.
Steven had taken over the opposite crew bunk during their long, interesting conversation. Now that Layla was sleeping and the lights were out, he couldn’t distract himself from his thoughts, the sharp voiced rambling of She’s dangerous get away get away stop talking to her I was wrong this isn’t a good idea- He turned his face into the pillow with a groan. Here he’d been having such fun, not thinking about violence or Sith in general and now his brain had decided it should be scared of Layla. Well, I’m not. He snapped at himself. We’re on the same side.
***
Konshu had always known his temper was an issue. Once upon a time, it would have disqualified him from getting his knighthood, but the order had been desperate, even all those years ago. In the present, he tried his best to limit himself to yelling at people or throwing things. He’d slipped during his escape from the Black Vulkar base and was trying to meditate on it. His irritation with the worm was distracting him and he felt foolish for it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been informed of how… ignorant he would be, but the wide eyed innocent puppy attitude put his beak on edge. The man’s mind had once been a matter of interest. Now it was a massive inconvenience.
He felt the Mandalorian mercenary moving around the ship, coming closer. Thank the Force, a distraction. The man’s mind was fixed on him and Konshu wondered what he was coming to ask.
The man, Canderous, Captain El’Faouly had said, spoke as soon as he was in the cockpit doorway. “I heard every Vulker in the base that day died. Not too impressive, all things considered, but still… We’re you one of Spector’s? The ones who went to war to defeat our clans?” Konshu can feel a buzzing interest, almost like hope, on the surface of the man’s mind.
“No.” He’d wanted to, of course. The Republic needed help, the Jedi could provide, but Konshu was mindful of how his anger could mislead him too easily. If he went to war, a little voice had said, he would not stay himself.
Canderous snorts, shoulders drooping slightly. He’s clearly disappointed. “Shame. Those were Jedi with honor.”
Konshu grumbles angrily, shaking his head. “If you only find honor in violence, then you have no sense of self. Without the self, your ‘honor’ is an empty, thin thing to be placed over your shell.” There’s a time and a place for violence. Force knows, Konshu indulges in it more than he should, when it comes to punishing dangerous individuals.
Canderous drew himself up, glaring down at the cross legged Jedi. “As long the fight is worthy, then honor is gained. The glory at having triumphed over impossible odds is what drives us. If there's nothing at stake, then the battle's meaningless. We Mandalore take everything we are and throw it into battle. It's the true test of yourself – the battle against death… against oblivion.”
Konshu knew the human wouldn’t recognize him rolling his eyes, but he did it anyway. If he’d wanted a discussion of philosophy and self, he’d have been nicer to the worm. He remembered a youngling, not quite Spector, discussing old philosophy holos from the archives with Jedi years his senior and all bored.
“Why are you here, Mandalorian?” He rumbled.
“Couldn’t exactly stay on Taris, could I?” The man said sarcastically.
“Why did you want to leave Taris in the first place?” Konshu amended, resisting the urge to just get rid of the human who would just be one more problem to explain to the Dantooine council.
“Very little is satisfying, after the war ended. Taris held no challenges for me. Crushing Davik's enemies and the pathetic gangs in the Lower City of Taris could not be considered the most glorious of tasks. When I think of the battles I've fought… the thousands I've killed… the worlds I've burned…” Canderous shook his head, wistfully. “The days of combat and glory and cheating death at every turn seem to be over now… I’ll take what I can. Captain El’Faouly might lead to some excitement.” It doesn’t make much sense, but at least he got an answer.
“If you desire to go back to war so much, you should have joined the military.” Konshu told him sourly. “There’s two very active ones at present.”
“You talk down to me for loving battle, but don’t you see the irony of it? You say you didn’t follow Spector, even though it was justified by your silly creed, protecting the helpless and so on. And now you’re in a war against other Jedi.” He gestured expansively, smirking. “Perhaps you regretted not following a true warrior into battle the first time.”
Alright, so Konshu wished the Jedi had handled things differently. Maybe sometimes he wondered if things would have been different if Ammit and Spector had more support or supervision, if they still would have fallen, but this war mongering fool trying to tell him his own thoughts and feelings, from the unpleasant, warped perspective of a Mandalorian, was definitely bringing him closer to one of the rages his old master had warned against for years. He got slowly to his feet, towering over the unflinching Canderous.
“I am not interested in your clumsy attempts at psychoanalysis or your descriptions of war. You have come to the cockpit of your own free will and so you are volunteering to watch the Nav computer. I will be meditating in the main hold.” A tiny press from his will and the man slid to the side without moving his feet, letting out a loud curse of shock so that Konshu could brush past him. Now there was the real irony, he thought; using the same tactic as the worm in order to leave a conversation.
He fell asleep while meditating.