Imperial times- Coruscant

Darth Vader refused to sit still this time, Riker South was up to something, he could sense it. No one had heard from him in over a week. Either he was dead or plotting, and Vader didn�t believe he was dead yet. He had far more important things to be worrying about than Riker and this wandering creature. If this thing had been loose all theese years and not killed anyone, why would it start now? The creature was an asset the empire had lost, but no one else had gained.

It could wait to be captured, it was a survivor, it would still be around when his other business was finished.

Riker, on the other hand, was never an asset to begin with, he was best simply eradicated and forgotten. He would never be missed. Of course, he�d have to find some excuse for his death if the emperor should ever happen to remember him and ask what had become of him.

Telling him he�d been buried up to his neck in a pit of living phirana-mites and left to be eaten alive was one suggestion he�d been tempted to consider telling the Emperor, but he most likely wouldn�t appreciate the humor in it. But Vader did. Someday he�d have the pleasure of removing Riker�s sorry carcass from the imperial court piece by piece.

The fact that someday was not today annoyed Vader though, he finally decided to bring Riker�s absence to the emperor�s attention.

Hopefully he�d be so distracted with his holographic model of his new toy that he�d give him permission to get rid of Riker before he remembered that he had once liked Riker.

Or before Riker had a chance to finish whatever scheme he was concocting against Vader this time.

He was really starting to hate that annoying little przat.

----------------------

Tarik found himself sprawled on the ground on the far side of the room, far from his target. Riker had knocked him across the room with a hefty effort in the force and a wave of his hand.

"Enough today," Tarik said, shaking his head to clear it. Riker looked as if he weren�t anywhere near ready to give up yet. "No more," Tarik growled, getting back to his feet.

"Do you think Vader�s going to stop in the middle of a fight for you?" Riker snapped.

Tarik growled, "You no man in black. You stop or I really bite next time," he said, reminding Riker of the hole in his pant leg where Tarik had ripped a fair-sized chunk of the cloth open when Riker wasn�t fully paying attention.

"Fine, we stop," he said, tossing the staff that he�d painted to look like a lightsaber to one side.

Tarik walked over to his pack, slinging it over his shoulder.

"I still wish I knew where you go," Riker said, picking up a towel from the table and blotting at his sweaty face.

Tarik growled, "Made deal, no ask, no follow, no bother," he snapped, heading for the door with a flick of his tail.

"Whatever, just be back soon," Riker said, waving toward him with the towel. Tarik growled, indicating he�d be back whenever he felt like. Riker just shook his head as he left, their alliance was uneasy and dangerous, with both of them living under the threat of death from the other. Riker let him run loose, he wasn�t about to strain their frail union by asking too many questions. He had no intention of ending up with Tarik�s claws around his throat like when he found the tracking device again either.

-----

Tarik hopped onto the ledge where the hole into the warehouse was, sniffing curiously. Ryyce and Zolyn were still here. He squeezed in through the hole, dropping his pack to the boxes below him as he chirruped loudly so Ryyce would know he was here. She looked up, mildly surprised.

"I was wondering when you�d be back, you�ve been gone quite a while this time," she said, star-sapphire eyes catching the light strangely.

"Maybe last time for while," he said, dropping to the ground from the last box in the pile. She looked at him curiously.

"Tarik, I haven�t placed any conditions on out arrangement before, but I would like you to tell me one thing," she said, watching him set his pack on the cargo crate table and chirrup at Zolyn as he passed. He looked over his shoulder at her, guessing what she was going to ask.

"No tell where me go, you no like," he said, pulling a plastic-wrapped box of food out of the pack.

Noryyce just looked at him, she didn�t need to speak to wear down Tarik�s resolve. He glanced back at her, then shuffled through the pack, trying not to notice her looking. He finally sighed, setting a can of something down with a thump.

"Fight with Drathan," he said, turning to face her.

"You fight with him every day or something?" she said, prodding him for the truth.

"No," he rolled the can along the table with a nudge from his claws. She crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow ridge at him inquisitively. He growled, knocking the can off the box, and looking at Noryyce with narrowed eyes.

"Drathan say I fight Jedi, that why me made for," he said, disliking the words even as he said them. He looked back toward his pack. "Him say that why they hunts me, to keep me from hunting them up there," he nodded toward the general direction of the imperial palace.

Ryyce nodded, she�d expected a reason like that behind his creation, but the fact that the dark Jedi that had been hunting him had been the one to tell him it bothered her.

"Him want me help kill man in black, make him come after mees to down where Drathan can kill him," he finally admitted, pulling another container out of the pack.

"That�s why he�s been giving you food?" Ryyce asked unhappily. Tarik nodded solemnly.

"Him no kill man in black, he too stupid, way too slow," Tarik said. "Let him feed me, then him get self killed by man in black, me no be there then," Tarik said, swishing his tail.

"Him no good people, him bad magic too," he said, defending his reasons for dealing with Riker.

Ryyce nodded sadly, "I had started to guess as much," she said, walking over and picking up the can from the floor. "We have enough stored here to last for a long time, stop going to him," she said, setting the can down on the table.

Tarik growled softly to himself, "Can�t," he said quietly.

"Why not?" Ryyce asked.

Tarik shrugged, "No let him get killed," he said, "Can�t let him, tried to, but no can let," he finished, shrugging again. "No explain, just can�t," he mumbled, chirping. Ryyce finally understood another part of Tarik, he couldn�t let someone die if he could help it, even if the person did deserve it. She saw something clearly through him for the first time, he wasn�t the wandering, mercenary creature she�d thought him to be from the stories she�d collected.

Somewhere under the scales and claws, a hero�s spirit lay dormant. In another lifetime and another form, perhaps even a Jedi�s spirit with the right training.

In this form though, all she saw for him was the languishing of his abilities as he lost the need to use them. Or worse, their cultivation by this Drathan person should he realize they existed. The thought of Tarik being drawn into the dark side made Ryyce shudder, he was so kind and good-hearted beneath all the growling and snide remarks.

Tarik suddenly snorted, turning both pointed ears forward toward Ryyce as he felt her uneasiness. Ryyce fought unsuccessfully to repress a laugh as she suddenly had the image of a giant, scaly Yoda staring back at her.

"Oh, Tarik, don�t do that," she laughed, covering her face with her long-fingered hands. "You have no idea how silly or who that looks like," she said, blue eyes sparkling as he flattened his ears again.

Zolyn peeped from his cradle, making some sort of yawn-chirp sound that attracted Tarik�s attention immediately.

"What could you possibly want now?" Ryyce said, looking toward the squirming alien.

"Want held," Tarik interpreted, stepping closer to the cradle. Ryyce looked at him in wonder, realizing he probably did understand him. She noticed something else as he walked over to Zolyn. Tarik had been walking more upright lately, as if trying to look more human or humanoid. He pivoted his ears toward Zolyn as he cooed at Tarik.

"Go ahead and pick him up," Ryyce said, watching him. Tarik immediately shook his head no.

"Too little, might hurt," he said, taking a step away.

"Stay there," Ryyce ordered, coming over to the hammock/ cradle. Tarik snuffled curiously as she picked Zolyn up from his cradle.

"Here, hold your arms out like this," she said, indicating how she was holding Zolyn. He shook his head no, backing up again. "Tarik, he doesn�t bite," she said, holding the infant toward him.

"Here, try," she said, bringing a nervous ticking from Tarik as he reached out timidly. He chirped in surprise as Zolyn cooed at him, snuggling against him as he held his arms the way Noryyce had shown him. He instinctively repeated the little clicking noises he made when he was around Zolyn, bringing a ticking chirp from the baby in answer.

"Likes me," Tarik exclaimed, "No hurting him," he smiled, making some sort of rumble-purr noise she hadn�t heard him use before. Another realization formed in her mind, Tarik had a protective spirit that was a little closer to the surface than the heroic one. Despite the fact he�d been engineered as a heartless weapon by the empire, he had a compassionate and caring essence that overruled his genetic programming.

She finally saw a clear image of Tarik�s future, he would still be here twenty years from now, when the empire was long turned to memory, and other Jedi than what she�d known were defending the free galaxy. There would be others to protect the universe, but Tarik would protect Coruscant, whether he realized he was doing it or not.

She smiled softly, knowing Tarik would survive what he had to pass through soon, and knowing she wouldn�t live to see much after it.

Sometimes, a Jedi seer�s worst curse can be their greatest gift, the ability to see one�s own future as long as it touches another�s. Both of them would outlive her, but they would both grow up well in the end.

She closed her eyes momentarily, feeling a flicker of familiarity from far above and far away as she let her abilities roam. Yes, I still exist, old friend, she smiled sadly, feeling the old man far away remember her fondly without knowing why. His time would come soon too, she had seen that long ago when he�d taken the boy Anakin as his apprentice. He would be his life, and his death.

I will miss you, padawan Kenobi, she mused silently, remembering the name she�d called him even after his knighthood. There is one who will not regret our passing, she thought, feeling someone else familiar, long lost inside his own ambition and cruelty. Maybe she should allow this Drathan to carry out his plan, to attack the shell of a being that had once been a bright young man.

No, that is not his destiny, she snapped at herself. Darth Vader�s destiny did not lay in being killed by some ambitious fool willing to use any means necessary to discredit his adversary.

She sighed, leaving the wisdom of the universe to its own devices and follies. She was no longer a seer, and did not need to be dabbling in the fates of others. Tarik was chirping in some strange language of his own to the infant Zolyn, who answered in similar tones.

"Him getting sleepy," Tarik announced, handing Zolyn back to Ryyce.

"Mees too," he added as she took Zolyn and laid him back in his cradle. She watched Tarik yawn widely, stretching his taloned hands all the way to the ceiling canvas. He cheeped like a baby bird, then looked around the room.

"Me sleep here?" he asked, scratching at an ear.

"Of course, I�m not angry with you," Ryyce said, rocking the hammock gently as little Zolyn�s tail peeped over the edge. "I can imagine that monster put you through a workout today," she said sourly, noticing the bruise on Tarik�s back for the first time.

He chirped softly, looking at her with orange-gold eyes full of mysterious sadness. "No monster, just lost," he said quietly, then turned and picked up his blanket as if he�d said nothing.

Ryyce watched him snuggle up under the blanket and snore softly as he settled in. She studied him for a moment longer, wondering if that Jedi spirit was just a little closer to the surface than she�d thought.

She shrugged, sitting cross-legged in the corner next to Zolyn�s hammock, drifting off into her usual half-sleep, half- healing trance she�d grown accustomed to after so many years.

----on to Part 5 of Chapter 3---

© 2000 Michelle Petrosky

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