Eluding Fics (4/4) - Alderaan part 2

[uscathena]

“We do not pin our thrantas up,” Sisa told them as they walked onto a skylift on the outskirts of the town. “They are more at peace when they are free. They know where their homes are, though, and the people that care for them. They cannot land - it is a pain to do so - we board them in the air instead. My mount is called Varmir. It will take me a few minutes to saddle her; you don’t mind, do you?”

“No, not at all,” Daven said, smiling politely.

Nyssa watched the woman, amused, but trying to be jealous even as the emotion wouldn’t come. Sisa was obviously attracted to her husband. Why and how deep weren’t exactly clear, but her constant eye contact and her addresses to him and only him made it evident. Daven may have realized it, but he was acting oblivious to her behavior and didn’t even remotely return her subtle flirtations.

The skylift shot up nearly ten meters in just as many seconds, but wasn’t any sort of taxing journey for a family used to hyperspace travel. They exited the lift onto a floating platform overlooking the clear skies. Herds of thrantas flew past, swooping near them as if expecting to be called. Nyssa smiled as she felt Mara’s grip on her hand tighten. She looked down to see wide, excited eyes.

“We’re going to ride on one of those?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Varmir is very big,” Sisa told them, directing her words towards Mara. “She’s a Balana thranta. But don’t be scared because she’s very friendly.” She pulled out a small whistle and blew on it, creating an almost inaudible whine that echoed through Nyssa’s ears.

They awaited a fraction of a minute before a large shadow loomed over them, circling towards the side of the platform.

While she wasn’t ready to admit it to her daughter, this was the first time Nyssa had seen a thranta outside of a holobook. It was huge up close - at least ten meters wide with a wing span at least three times that. It didn’t look like any traditional bird she had ever seen before - no feathers, no beak. In fact, with its scaly hide and wide, gaping mouth, it resembled a reptile more than an avian.

As the creature neared, a single flap of its wings generated a rush of air so great that Nyssa almost took a step back. It was much akin to the replusor engine jets on older landcruisers.

There was a complementary wind gust just then, created by a generator on the platform. It shot up into the sky, directly under the thranta’s hovering form. The thranta balanced herself against it and stretched her wings out into an even line, allowing the fans to hold her nearly motionless in the sky.

“There are legends,” Sisa stated, yelling over the whine of the winds as she entered her access code into the side panel of a mechanical crane, “that it took countless generations to tame thrantas to be able to tolerate these platforms and airmovers. Before, thranta riders would climb to the highest cliffs and jump to their mounts as they flew by. Saddle-less and bareback.”

Nyssa chewed her lip. It was a fascinating mental image, she had to admit, even if Sisa’s telling sounded automated. Mara’s imagination was clearly captivated, though, and that was enough for her.

The crane’s claw griped onto one of the many saddles lining the far side of the platform. Its movements were programmed to be exact and Sisa had little to do with manual operation. She watched the proceedings carefully, however, obviously making sure that no harm befell her thranta from the mechanics.

“The first people that successfully tamed thrantas were called Thranta Riders,” Sisa continued once she noticed that her audience was clearly enthralled with the story. “They were responsible for designing these systems and acclimating the thrantas to them. For most of memorable history, Thranta Riders passed down their taming secrets to their children, generation after generation. These families became known for their thranta skills. We still have a few families left in Charila that can trace their heritage back to the original riders.”

“Are you from one of those families?” Nyssa asked, knowing that the progression to this question was natural and expected, but she was still curious. She wondered how this Sisa would not only boast of her riding ability but also of her fine genetic makeup.

“No, I am not, I’m afraid,” Sisa said, surprising her. “Several generations ago, Alderaan as a whole began to appreciate what the pleasures of owning and riding could be. They coaxed members of the families to divulge their secrets or move up North to ride their thrantas in shows or maintain ranches.

“Before then, the Thranta Riders were their own distinct people - rural and culturally backwards compared to the rest of Alderaan. But, when thrantas became more and more popular, they found themselves intermarrying and mixing with the rest of Alderaan. It also became more acceptable for non-Thranta Riders to leave their cities and move here. That’s what my parents did after they finished their terms at university.” Sisa then paused, watching as the saddle was fastened to her mount by a set of wiry arms.

“We’re almost ready to go,” she noted. To Nyssa’s surprise, she then stepped out directly onto the creature’s wing. Her pace was slow and steady as she walked towards the saddle, which was much like a cockpit of a landspeeder, if Nyssa would be forced to describe it. The thranta made no movement either way - obviously showing confidence in the woman on her wing.

Sisa kneeled down and tugged at one of the many straps that bound the saddle to the animal, checking to make sure it was completely secure. Satisfied that it was, she stood and gestured to the family to come out onto the wing.

“Come, it is totally safe,” she reassured them. “If you happen to fall - which has never happened before - the airmovers are strong enough to hold your weight. Children will even come up and play in the winds when there are no mounts here - to pretend that they can fly. I won’t recommend it now, though.”

Nyssa turned to Daven and only received a shrug as a reply, but Mara was nearly half on the wing before Nyssa pulled her back. She was pretty sure that her daughter was going to aim for the air rather than the saddle, but she couldn’t very well be scolded for thinking of doing something rather than actually doing it.

Daven grabbed Mara and hoisted her on his shoulder. He was probably also aware of Mara’s intent, but he wouldn’t bother to comment on it one way or another.

All it took him was a few quick strides to reach the saddle. Nyssa took a deep breath and followed. While she was by no means afraid of heights, she still made a note not to look down.

Once they were all sitting and strapped in, Sisa blew on her whistle once more and the thranta glided forward slowly. Sensing that weight had been removed, the generator shut down, leaving the thranta to support herself fully.

She did, and the first thrust of the creature’s wings up left Nyssa’s heart in her throat, but it was an exhilarating feeling nonetheless. Soon the breeze struck their faces and blew through their hair. The skylift was far from view and there was nothing to greet them but the open green fields of the Zone.

Mara peered down in wonder, straining her neck to see the small shapes of trees beneath them. The look on her face made Nyssa smile - excitement, wonder, happiness.

“So, who taught you how to fly, if you aren’t a Thranta Rider?” Daven asked suddenly, thoughtfully, breaking the silence.

“Oh,” Sisa said, thinking for a moment. “All children in the village are taught to ride regardless of who their parents are. Much like you were taught to pilot a speeder, no? Some have more talent for it than others and are able to conduct tours and be in the festivals. The ones that can’t man the shops and care for the animals, stuff like that. They will still ride thrantas, though, just not at this level.”

There was a hint of pride in her voice, Nyssa noticed, but it was controlled.

“The pure blooded Thranta Riders are still the best,” Sisa continued after a short pause. “But, as a whole, they aren’t a very pretentious people, so they welcome as one of their own anyone that’s able to ride. It’s sort of sad in a way, because that’s what has lead to their near extinction.”

“I thought you said they intermarried?” Nyssa questioned, catching the hole in her narrative.

“Oh,” Sisa said, “they did. But, you see, Thranta Riders are a distinct genetic population - because of so many years a part from the rest of Alderaan, I guess - and look completely different. They are the only native Alderaanians that have light hair and eyes. There is a lovely story behind it, would you like to hear?”

Mara’s head popped up and she briskly nodded, clearly not caring rather or not her parents wanted to hear a fairytale.

“Well, okay,” Sisa said, smiling. “The legends say that the first two Thranta Riders ever were brothers playing one day in the hills near their home. They challenged each other to jump on and ride the thrantas that were circling the highest of the fields. The elder brother managed to mount first and soared so high that the rays of the noon sun touched his hair and turned it a bright yellow. The younger brother was much smaller and, despite many attempts, wasn’t able to mount until sunset. When he did, he soared low, towards the fiery rays of the setting sun. They, too, touched his hair and it became red. Together the boys rode day after day until their eyes reflected the color of the sky. All their children - and they had many in the years to come - were born with either blond hair or red hair, depending on who their father was, and always had blue eyes.”

Mara frowned. “But that’s not how it works; the sun can’t do that to you!”

Sisa laughed. “I know, young one. It is only a story, used to explain something that was unexplainable for many years. Since then, scientists have found the true reason, but it isn’t as fun as that story.”

Mara’s eyebrows furrowed, but she said nothing more, to Nyssa’s relief. Explaining random genetic mutations to a five-year-old on her birthday was never a good plan, especially when Daven’s lecture would most likely put her to sleep.

Silence continued - a pleasurable one at that - through the morning.

*****

Flying was the only way to live. It wasn’t the key to life - he had long since learned that it was friends and family that made everything rich - but it was damn near. Flying was his greatest enjoyment, his greatest pride, and his greatest source of income. It was a very good thing indeed that all three of those descriptions fit so flawlessly into one single thing. He knew men that weren’t so lucky.

His thranta let out perturbed snort when he dismounted, but Davick Staver calmed the animal with a soft pat on the wing.

“We showed them who the best team is, Nakin,” he whispered to the bird triumphantly. “But it’s time for you to get some well earned rest, I think.” He used the crane to strip off the saddle. Once Nakin was free of the bonds, the thranta swooped down and away from the platform, wishing to avoid the ruckus of the arena nearby. “Hey, don’t go off too far! We still got the finale!” Davick shouted into the wind, knowing perfectly well that the thranta could not possibly hope to understand Basic and would come more aptly at the call of a whistle.

“Excellent flight, Davick!” one of the crewmen told him eagerly. “I think you had all the girls in the audience swooning.”

Davick favored the man with a smile that many thranta veterans claimed was purely his mother’s. “I’ll be down in the pit, grabbing a bite to eat, if anyone needs me.”

“All right,” the crewman responded as the lift came to a stop before them. Another rider stepped out, whistle in hand.

“Great flight,” he greeted.

“Thanks,” Davick returned as he stepped into the now vacant lift. “May your bird soar,” he said before the lift’s grated safety doors closed, echoing the common phrase amongst thranta riders. He nodded thankfully before blowing on his whistle.

Davick took a deep breath as the lift descended. He was going to enjoy the break, even if it was barely an hour. The screaming spectators in the arena were loud, frightening even to a seasoned bird like Nakin, and Davick was a quiet person by nature. The so-called ‘pit’ - a temporary pilot staging area located on the far side of the arena - had its share of bustle, but at least no one would be screaming his name.

He walked the few meters between the lift and the pit, deep in his thoughts. He wondered where Sisa had run off to - she had said that she would be volunteering for the lift mounting crew today, so he was expecting to see her at any moment. He desperately hoped she wasn’t still bitter about not being picked for the show this year. He would have gladly given up his spot for her, had he been able, but, truth be told, she wasn’t even high enough on the waiting list for that to matter.

Why her performance at the tryouts had been less than sub par, Davick still could not guess. It had been far worse than her usual showing, and Davick normally considered her one of the best riders, especially if he discounted the native Thranta Riders from the group.

He grabbed a cup of water and one of the bread rolls, which a local baker had prepared for the pilots today, and ate absentmindedly. It was still a bit too early for a midday meal, but Davick wouldn’t get a chance to eat again. He counted himself quite lucky, anyway, for having the food while it was still fresh and warm.

“Davick!” a familiar voice called out.

He looked up to see his mother, Aiya, pushing her way through the groups of nervous flyers. He swallowed harshly and took a gulp of water, wondering what she was doing here. She was supposed to be at the stall, selling. The look on her face made him feel worried rather than annoyed, though. She looked … not afraid, necessarily, but … anxious, maybe?

“Mother,” Davick said, coming to her. “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“Something has,” she said, her voice high pitched. “Something wonderful.” She reached out and brushed Davick’s cheek before putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Mother?” Davick asked, confusion overtaking his features. “What is it?”

“I saw Daven, just this morning,” she told him in a whisper, as if it were a secret between them.

Davick pulled away, shocked at his mother’s words. Was it some sort of twisted jest that he wasn’t privy to? He seriously doubted Aiya was capable of that after they had wept for Daven together. No, it was more likely that …

“Mother,” he said softly. “It is warm out today. Perhaps the heat has gotten to you. Why don’t you sit down for a bit?” He led her to a nearby bench. She went willingly, but pulled him down to sit with her.

“Davick, I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “I’m not going mad, my son. I know what I saw.”

“Daven is dead,” Davick reminded her, wishing his words didn’t sound so harsh right then. “You saw the reports on the holovid just like I did. Of the Jedi purge.” He paused to clear a stray strand of gray hair out of her eye. How she had grieved for the child that she barely knew. It had hurt Davick, too, to know that his brother had been executed in such a violent manner, but he could not begin to imagine what his mother felt. “We both read the list,” he whispered, referring to the death lists compiled at the end of the Clone Wars. “We both saw his name. Mother?”

She was shaking her head, denying his words.

“Mother, please. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me,” he begged her. “I don’t think either of us can take it.”

“Believe me, Davick,” she answered, sounding surprisingly sane. “I didn’t just see him. He was with a woman that said his name. He was a mirror image of you, I swear. It could be no other.”

Davick sighed.

“Couldn’t it be possible, Davick?” Aiya continued. “Couldn’t it? He could’ve escaped the purge, left the Jedi before it happened, even. He was with a woman and they had a little girl. Maybe he left for her and didn’t even fight in the Clone Wars.”

“You’re grasping at grass, mother,” Davick said. “If he wasn’t in the war, how do you explain the list?”

“A mistake, an oversight, a lie!” she cried uncharacteristically, causing a few heads in the pit to turn. “Just think, hope for a minute. What if I’m right?”

“What if you’re wrong?” Davick said cynically.

“Then nothing changes,” Aiya responded firmly.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, defeated, but still not willing to hope she was right.

“Find him. Now,” she said, resolved in her choice.

“Now?” Davick repeated. “Mother, there are thousands of people here. He could be anywhere. The arena, the town. I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

“Find him, please,” she said once more.

“I have the show’s finale still; I can’t just leave,” Davick protested.

“Ask Sisa to replace you,” Aiya suggested. “She’s practiced the whole routine with you, hasn’t she? She must have it memorized by now. And you saw that poor girl crying after those tryouts. She would love a second chance, don’t you think?”

He could agree with that, and he knew Sisa would perform his part beautifully. He also had to admit that thoughts of his brother would probably cloud his concentration during the flight. He would prefer to go look for Daven, but there was a problem.

“I don’t know where Sisa is,” he admitted.

“What?” Aiya asked, surprised. “I thought you two were connected at the hip.”

“I haven’t seen her all day, to tell you the truth,” he said, smirking at his mother’s last comment.

“Maybe she’s off sulking,” Aiya said.

“No, Sisa doesn’t sulk,” Davick shook his head. “She’s around somewhere. I have an hour before I’m scheduled to ride again. If I can find her before then and if - big if, mind you - she can take my place, I’ll help you find Daven.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” his mother said, her face brightening.

****

Finding Sisa was going to be harder than he had originally thought, Davick realized some thirty minutes later. He even had asked a few locals running street-side stalls if they had seen her. Some had, but none knew where she was now.

He wished he would just see her. The idea that his brother might still be alive was grating on his mind and he wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted Sisa to tell him to hope, that everything was going to be fine, that today would be a good day. He half expected that, when she did turn up, she would rather help him look for Daven than fly. She loved flying as much as he did, but she, like he, valued their friendship more.

Running out of options, he entered the navigation station. Knoggles was there, of course, watching some holovid and lazily eating granola.

“It’s a little early in the day for that, don’t you think?” Davick commented wryly as he turned on the main lights.

“Hey,” Knoggles shouted, blocking his eyes. “You prude. I’m not even drinking!”

“Whatever,” Davick said, leaning against the counter. “Have you seen Sisa today?”

“Yeah,” came the surprising answer. “She was in here with a young couple a few hours ago or so.”

“Doing what?”

“Why do you care?” Knoggles smirked. “Finally gonna fly that girl off to Paradise Peak and show her a good time, eh?”

“Hardly. We’re only friends,” Davick reminded him, trying to block the blush rising to his cheeks. “Where is she?”

“She took the couple and their little girl out for a tour of the Zone,” the navigation director finally admitted. “She’ll be gone all day, so you’ll have to keep it in your pants until then.”

“Funny,” Davick grumbled, rolling his eyes. “A couple, you say?”

“Yeah,” Knoggles nodded. “And you know what was really weird? The father: a spiting image of you. The red hair, blue eyes, coulda swore he was a Thranta Rider, but I guess the galaxy makes all kinds, huh?”

Davick’s interest was peaked. “Really? Can I see his identification holo?”

“Sure, sure,” Knoogles said, pulling out the holoreader. “I think Sisa got sick of awaiting for ya and found a replacement.”

Davick ignored his comment and focused on the emerging holo. He let out a small gasp. What his mother and Knoggles said was true: the man did look enough like him to be his brother. His cheeks were the same, but his nose was a little smaller, and they did have the same coloring. He looked no older than thirty, but that would place him in the right age range to be Davick’s younger sibling.

“What’s his name, anyway?” he finally asked, suspecting that it would, in fact, be Daven Staver.

“You know,” Knoggles said offhandedly as he looked through the files for the proper information, “they say everybody has at least one twin in the galaxy. Do you think he’s yours?” He let the question hang as he looked through the file. “Farin Cloy.”

“Farin Cloy?” Davick repeated, tasting the name on his lips and wondering if it was an alias. His mother could have been mistaken, but Davick had to know if this man was Daven. He was daring to hope. “You got Sisa’s itinerary, right?”

*****

“Are you serious?” Vive said, ecstatic. “Take your place in show?”

“You’ve watched Sisa and I practice everyday for the past month,” Davick told her. “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you watching on the hill. Think you can do it?”

“The finale?” the fifteen year-old snorted. “It’ll be a drift in the breeze.”

“Great,” Davick said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Take Nakin; he knows the whole routine and should be able to guide you through it.”

The girl beamed at the thought of riding a prize show thranta. “This is so wizard.”

“Here.” He handed her Nakin’s whistle and started to jog to the platform at the far side of town.

“So, where you going?” the girl shouted after him.

“To find Sisa,” he yelled back.

He knew there was some sort of reply insinuating that he and Sisa were in or ready for a romantic relationship, but he didn’t bother to hear Vive’s last words. He imagined he had the whole of the town wondering - and gossiping - about his intentions with Sisa from his behavior this morning. He could only hope that they had cooled off by the time he and Sisa had returned.

Returned with his brother. Potential brother; Davick didn’t know for sure. His thoughts about that little issue were overpowering his usual concerns about people teasing him and Sisa.

What would Daven say to him? Hell, what would he say to Daven? ‘Hey, kid, I’m your big brother’? That wasn’t going to sound eloquent to the ears of a Jedi, if that was, in fact, what Daven had become.

Even that was in doubt. In his teenage years, Davick had developed an interest in the Jedi Order, remembering how his baby brother was taken from their house when he was just a few months old. Davick had been only five then, but he could still recall the day clearly: the majestic men that had taken Daven, cloaked completely in brown robes. He had screamed at them, telling them that they couldn’t have his brother.

One of them had paused and put a hand on his shoulder while the other cradled the infant.

“He will be well with us,” the man had told him soothingly. “He belongs with us.”

“He belongs with me,” he had retorted.

“Your brother is a very special little guy,” the Jedi said. “He has special powers that one day he’ll use to help people. Don’t you want him to help people?”

“Yes,” Davick had answered wearily, feeling his eyes fill with tears. “But will he come back and visit me when he gets bigger?”

The Jedi had pressed his lips together harshly. “That is up to the Force, child.”

Davick had been fortunate enough to do a school project on the Jedi Order, and that was when he learned about the likely fate of his brother - he would never love, never marry, never have children, never know about his real family.

As he had read that chapter of his holo reference guide, Davick’s childhood dream died. Daven wasn’t ever going to come back. He wasn’t going to walk into their little house and hug their mother. He wasn’t going to stay up all night and tell Davick of his many adventures on faraway planets. He wasn’t going to race thrantas bareback.

In all likelihood, Daven would have never even be made aware that he was born on Alderaan.

Davick had kept this new information to himself for a long while, several years, in fact, until the outbreak of the Clone Wars, when his mother had been glued to the holovid, watching as the Jedi led the Republic army into battle.

They had talked openly one night about what had been a silent memory in their house: Daven and the Jedi Order. To Davick’s shock, Aiya had known about the Jedi Order’s rules and had let him go anyway.

“He has a greater destiny,” she had said in her defense. “I could feel it when I held him.”

One thing she hadn’t known, however - one thing that the Jedi had failed to tell her - was that the Order had an abundance of children at their disposal, and some were rejected and never became Jedi Knights. They were sent to some horrible backwater planet to farm.

So that, too, had been one of Daven’s possible fates.

Davick had hated the Jedi even more when he knew that his brother could have been abandoned. His mother admitted that, had she known, she would have kept him. Their hate became mutual, however, when they saw the list and learned that Daven had died merely because he was a Jedi. That this had been his fate.

But perhaps it wasn’t.

Davick sighed before blowing a whistle to call a new mount. He would ride to Visma Bluff and wait. There was a platform there and Sisa was scheduled to land in a few hours for lunch at that spot. He would meet Sisa and her party there.

He breathed deeply and released the air raggedly as the crane saddled the thranta. He was going to need to think of something really good to say.

*****

The Visma Bluff platform was not much compared to the giant machines operated in town; in fact, Daven wasn't entirely sure he could even make out a replusor. The lift was also simple: a system of pulleys rather than the more typical gravi-field movers. It was wooden, adding to the rustic look of the place, and it blended into the forest, which surrounded the bluff on three sides.

The thranta lowered in her descent, banking at a surprisingly sharp angle. Mara, sitting in between him and Nyssa, tightened her grip on his hand but squealed in delight all the same as the cold air blew roughly on their faces.

As they neared, a harsh whine indicated the presence of a small engine, painted brown, so it seemed, to resemble the wood. It had just enough power to hold the thranta in its air currents, Daven could guess, so he opted to grab Mara the second they paused long enough for her to consider jumping out.

They moved easily off the creature's wing, this time with Sisa walking along with them to help in case they lost their balance. Not likely to happen to anyone in that family - even Nyssa, without the Force, was quite a bit more graceful than Sisa - but Daven wasn't about to let the sweet girl know it.

He liked Sisa, despite her near constant, probably unconscious flirtations. She had a naivety and honesty that was rare in his world, even when he was a Jedi. Nyssa had often proclaimed that Daven himself was innocent, especially in the beginning, but he imagined that even she would agree that it was a different sort of thing all together. He knew the sufferings of the galaxy, and the cruelties, from the time he was a Padawan, but he had chosen to not let them affect him. For Sisa, though, it was as if she were never even aware of them.

He envied her for a moment as they descend in the lift, not for himself, but for his daughter. It was doubtful that his little Mara would ever know a peace like Sisa's, if only because of the birthright - perhaps curse, rather - that he had given her.

Clearly oblivious to Daven's thoughts, Sisa was staring off into the distance, looking towards the other side of the river.

"There's another thranta," she said, confused. "Knoggles said no one else would be out today." She frowned and squinted, trying to get a better look at the blurry dot.

"A wild one, perhaps?" Nyssa asked as the lift came to a halt and their small party stepped out onto the grass. She glanced sidelong at Daven, her look betraying one meaning and one meaning alone - potential danger, I'm ready when you are. Daven sighed, returning his gaze to the skies. He sensed nothing wrong, but that was never a reason to be incautious.

"No," Sisa answered, sounding distracted but unconcerned. She pulled out her microgoggles, and confirmed what Daven's Force-enhanced vision already told him. "It's got a saddle. Can't make out a rider, though."

Then, as if getting lost that morning had no lasting effect on Mara, she chose that second to bolt out of Daven's arms and run, no wait - skip - towards the forest.

"Mara!" Nyssa called out, running after her.

Daven's first instinct was to join his wife in the chase, but a tingling on the back of his neck caused him to stop in mid movement. Something was … well, not exactly wrong, nor even off. Something just was. It was an odd feeling, an almost good feeling, a feeling of completeness. He had felt it before, he knew, but he could not remember when or why.

"Mara!" Nyssa's panic-filled shout threw him out of his reverie, clearing his head. There was someone here, he could sense that much, and he knew he needed to protect his wife and child before over-analyzing Force currents.

He trailed after them, leaving a confused and worried Sisa without so much as a word of explanation. The trees were close together, much more so than the aerial view had led him to believe, and the foliage was suitably dense.

Simply following Mara's presence was the best and only available option, but, as he ducked past branches and hopped over outgrown roots, he found her trail becoming as shadowy and blotchy as the forest itself.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity yet was, in reality, only a handful of breaths, Daven came across a tiny clearing. A small, wooden shack was the only structure that occupied the space, but it wasn't what caught Daven's immediate attention.

Nyssa was suddenly running ahead of him, preparing to scoop up a very bewildered looking Mara, who was currently standing in the middle of the clearing. Without thought, Daven went for the next obvious target - the man that had just emerged from the building, who was just a little too close to his daughter for comfort.

He crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. He heard the breath being sapped from the man's lungs, so he positioned himself to keep it that way - he sat on his knees, with his full weight on the man's chest.

The man gasped but gave no other sort of struggle. Clearly not a well-trained bounty hunter, if he was one, but Daven thought it best not to let his guard down just yet. He pushed down, forcing a good bulk of his weight onto the man's esophagus.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nyssa holding Mara in an intense hug, but he kept his focus trained on the man's face, which was now racing with a torrent of emotions. Fear, shock, confusion, amazement; Daven couldn't really tell - the buzzing in his own head prevented him from reading anything or anyone too clearly.

"Who are you?" he asked harshly, letting up a little so the man could breathe enough to answer.

"Dav … plea …" the man hissed in a hoarse rush.

"Davick!" came an agonized scream, and Daven felt more than saw Sisa race to his side. "Let him up! Let him up! He's my friend, a resident of the village!" She shoved Daven off the man, this supposed Davick, and he let her. He bent in a low crouch as Sisa helped Davick up into a sitting position.

Davick took a few nervous gasps of air, rubbing his chest while Sisa still held one of his shoulders to support him. His eyes never left Daven's.

"What are you doing here, Davick?" Sisa demanded, completely unaware of their dead stare. "The show? Is everything all right?"

"Daven? Are you Daven?" Davick asked, ignoring Sisa's question.

Daven swallowed roughly, his throat going dry. No one, besides Nyssa and Mara, should have known that name. Years ago, they had taken the precaution of completely detaching the man from the name, legally at least. 'Daven Staver' had conveniently died in the first wave of the purges, even before Vader had attempted to kill him on Maylass. It was then only a matter of slightly altering the genetic code, figure prints, and iris pattern in the dead Jedi's official file so that they wouldn't at all match the poor, uneducated, smuggler grunt that came from some backwater planet, the name of which Daven had never bothered to remember.

Nyssa had some useful friends, Daven had to admit, but he did not allow the slicer who preformed the identity switch to remember that he did so, no matter how much Nyssa trusted the man. Now only Nyssa called him by his first name - neither of them wanting him to completely loose his old self - and Mara knew the name from Nyssa. Still, Nyssa never let the name slip in public for fear of someone putting the two pieces together and finding out that there was a Jedi still living.

But this Davick, with his disheveled red hair and baggy tunics, didn't exactly look like an Imperial assassin.

"Please, if you're Daven," Davick began again, but paused to draw a ragged, nervous breath. "Daven Staver …"

Okay, not even Mara knew his family name.

"I'm … My name is Davick Staver," Davick continued. Daven clenched his jaw, but his face remained impassive. "I have … had a brother. A younger brother. His name was Daven. When he was just a baby, he was taken away." His eyes racked Daven's features, as if looking for an unspoken answer, declaration, confirmation - any reaction whatsoever. Daven did his best not to even blink. "The Jedi took him. They told us he was going to be a Jedi, too. We saw his name after the Clone Wars, saying that he died… but, you. My mother saw you today in the village; she thought she heard someone call you Daven. And you look …"

Like you, Daven thought, able to finish Davick's assumption even as he stopped speaking. And it was true, too. He had initially written off the resemblance, after hearing Sisa's story of the native redheaded Thranta Riders, but the similarity didn't just end with their hair and eye color.

Although it was of little consolation, it seemed he had now found the man Sisa had originally mistaken him for back in town, and, not to mention, the reason behind the little crush she had been developing.

But that didn't necessarily mean that this man was his brother. Perhaps it was a clever ploy. Pick a target that looked to be a hunted Jedi, approach him or her, pretending that you are family, share that you know of the Jedi's secret and are willing to protect it, get the Jedi to admit it, and you made yourself an easy bounty with an unsuspecting victim.

Yet this seemed unlikely, even in a galaxy as cruel as this one currently was. First, he had yet to meet another Jedi living in hiding; chances were that there was too few left to bother hunting. Second, he was listed as deceased and so his was not the most obvious face to be posted on the newest wanted list. Third, the elaboration with Sisa and the thrantas …

Oh, Force be damned, when did he become so rational?

He reached out, not touching Davick's mind, but, instead, feeling the currents around him - around them both. The soft ebb and flow - grace and chaos streamlined - greeted him. He felt the buzz, the tingle that had earlier touched the back of his neck. It was a strand, one of the many that made up the web of the Force, connecting one life to the next.

All things were connected, no life could live without impacting another, but some were stronger than others. He could always make out his own, like fiery tether licking in between his shoulder blades. His and Nyssa's strand - created out of rivalry and greed, cracked by suffering and pain, but mended with devotion and trust - was always visible. His and Mara's - the bond of a parent and child - burned the brightest. Older than time, deep, and primal. Forged from a likeness in genetics, a part that made them two pieces cut from the same whole, and strengthened by selfless love.

His and his brother's. Yes, there it was. Weak and neglected, but there, burning gently and tirelessly, brighter than the other, common strands that linked those unrelated.

"Please," Davick spoke again, slowly loosing what was left of his composure. "I need to know. I just need to know."

Daven released a breath he didn't remember holding, clearing his mind and taking in his surroundings for what felt like the first time. Davick was still sitting on the ground across from him, his face pleading, bordering on shaking.

Sisa was next to him, still holding on to his arm but no longer offering a comforting touch. Her eyes were wide in shock, her expression confused, as she kept turning her head to regard one brother and then the other.

Nyssa was holding Mara close to her, her arms wrapped tightly around Mara's shoulders, as if she were afraid of her running off again. She held a look of suspicion mixed with surprise while Mara was merely smiling.

Daven sighed. While he didn't know what the truth would mean exactly, he had no reason, no right to lie to his brother.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm Daven."

"By the Force," Davick whispered, his breath coming out in a slow, relieved hiss. He shot to his knees and crawled the meter separating them, reaching out to Daven and crushing him in a fierce hug.

Daven had to fight the urge to struggle out of the embrace, despite the fact that physical contact had become second nature to him when he was with Nyssa and Mara. Davick's hug was overwhelming, seeming to give and ask for love, admiration, and respect - all of the things he had worked so hard to show Nyssa and Mara in the months after he no longer considered himself a true Jedi - with one single touch.

He pulled away. Perhaps not too harshly, because Davick didn't seem to notice his reluctance. The older man even kept a hand planted firmly on his shoulder.

"Where have you been?' Davick asked suddenly, as if Daven could hope to begin to answer something like that. "What happened to you?" Maybe even slightly more difficult to form a response to. "Did you become a Jedi?" Easier. "Did you fight in the Clone Wars? Why was your death announced?"

Daven opened his mouth and blinked a few times, not really sure what he could possibly say, but trying to find some sort of words anyway.

"Force, look at me," Davick finally said when Daven remained silent. "I'm sorry, this must be a lot to take in." He took his hand off his shoulder and favored him with a friendly smile. "You probably didn't even know I existed before now. This whole thing - conversation, I mean - isn't exactly going the way I was planning." He rubbed his forehead, as if trying to relieve a stress headache. "Wasn't expecting you to jump me when I was leaving the 'fresher, first off."

"Sorry," Daven replied honestly, still incapable of saying much else.

"It's okay," Davick said, his smile becoming more genuine. "I almost had myself convinced that it wasn't going to be you. And then there you were. You're … you. And now I'm babbling like the village idiot. Fantastic." He ran a hand through his hair.

"You said that Aiya saw him?" Sisa finally spoke up, wisely saving the more impossible questions for a later date and time, and giving Daven some much needed breathing room. He even noticed Davick's aura calm as she placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Did she send you?"

"Yeah."

"We should get going and head back, then. I'm sure she's waiting for your return." Sisa smiled fondly at Daven. "And what a happy return it'll be."

Daven could not bring himself to return the grin. His mind was whirling and nerves were piled atop nerves.

He was going to meet his family. His birth family.

And he didn't even know how he felt about that …