Part Nine

Qui-Gon stared at his master, completely flabbergasted. He had placed her in the eccentric category sometime ago. He never dreamed she was insane. "Are you crazy?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Ashanti stopped herself halfway through the doorway and gave him a withering look. "As if you have to ask," she told him and continued through the door, which closed with a soft hiss behind her.

Pak stood complacently behind Qui-Gon, watching the human boy stare with a shocked expression at the closed door. "It will only be once," offered Pak as a consolation.

It was a small one, Qui-Gon noted. "But we don't know what kind of damage could occur just once."

In his head, through their link in the Force, Qui-Gon heard Ashanti chuckle and respond. *Padawan, you worry too much. And besides, any brain damage that occurs isn't going to be significant compared to what I do daily.*

Qui-Gon frowned. *What do you mean?*

*I took a padawan learner to trip over and to listen to whining for the next ten to twelve years. I'd consider that the brink of insanity myself.* Qui-Gon's eyes widened at the mild rebuke and obvious insult but wisely kept his mouth shut. A little of Ashanti's irritation had flowed through their link. With a lack of anything better to do, he began to grill poor Pak for as much information on the Planet of Thoughts as the alien could answer, right down the merest molecular puzzle.

Ashanti stood within the "room", feeling nervous and not sure Qui-Gon wasn't right about the whole thing. This morning Ashanti had woken up feeling reckless and stupid. As the two Jedi ate with Pak hovering around the room in his normal noncorporeal form, Ashanti declared that she would be trying out one of the "spas" to see how the process worked. Qui-Gon had tried to argue her down, to no avail. It seemed Ashanti was determined to use the relaxing atmosphere of the Planet of Thoughts "just to see what it's like."

Qui-Gon obviously thought she was insane. Ashanti was beginning to agree, but she said she was doing it, and typical of her species, anything decided upon must be acted upon, come hell or high water. Ashanti often marveled at her species' ability to survive with such stupidity latent in the genes.

"Welcome, Ashanti Vende. A probe will scan your memory banks, and at your will, an appropriate memory will be replayed. Is this acceptable?" A calm computerized voice rang out in the cloudy environment.

"Whatever!" she responded with forced joviality. Through the Force she felt the scan and pushed to the fore the memory she wanted "replayed". She had chosen this memory on purpose.

"The planet Plumera, 30 years ago. Is this acceptable?" The computer seemed uncaring whether it was or not, but Ashanti affirmed the memory. "State when you wish to begin. You have 30 Republic minutes to relive the chosen memory file."

The planet of Plumera shimmered before the sprite-like alien, green lush fields, small trees and shrubs, and a green sky tinged slightly with blue, just as Ashanti remembered it after all those years ago. "Remarkable," she murmured.

Not sure what to expect she turned and ran into herself. Well, a younger version of herself. A very cocky and arrogant Ashanti Vende was walking across the seemingly empty fields, muttering to herself.

"Can't find the blasted place. Gonna be late and Yoda will never let me hear the end of it!"

Ashanti smiled. Yes she remembered that. She had spent too much time gawking in the town market and had been late to meet with a delegate from Plumera who stated they had a possible Jedi candidate. She had then gotten lost (hard for a Jedi, easy for her in open spaces), not having the internal "radar" sense for open spaces. Her species were tree climbers. She had never seen many open fields before. Coruscant was a giant floating city-planet. Definitely no open areas there. And space, well, you didn't go for a stroll in space.

"Are you the Jedi?" A man approached the younger Ashanti, who looked at him warily. Ashanti herself tensed, knowing what was coming next.

"I am," the younger Ashanti said, her eyes darting from the man who was visible to the five that were not, hiding in the shrubs surrounding them.

"Just checking," nodded the man and he attacked.

Ashanti had been ready for the attack, she was gratified to remember, but had not been ready for the lightsaber her first confronter pulled. It had been rudely constructed and its beam was weak, but it still could cause damage, both Ashantis noted as the beam sliced at her tail and left a singe mark where she had not moved it in time.

"Not bad for someone who can't read the specs, but this is what a real lightsaber looks like!" The memory Ashanti powered up her own blade, a light yellow blade at the time, and began to dance with her other sabered partner. She would deflect one of his blows with a powerful block or thrust, turn to beat back her other attackers and continued the pattern.

Her opponents were admittedly pathetic, but Ashanti had been on a mission previously which had taken much from her. This mission was specifically chosen for her because of it's ease. Wounds of great severity were healing still and her energy flagged often from the use of the Force to heal.

Her younger self had soon taken down three of the five and was sandwiched between the two leftovers. A blaster was pulled by the one behind her and she was shot in the back, her block wasted when she moved a hair too slow. The older and wiser Ashanti groused to herself at the bad fighting technique but reflected that she knew better now and did not fight when so outmatched any more. If she had to, she ran to better ground.

Her memory self fell to her knees, her backside smoking from the hit and singed skin was ripe in the air. "You will forgive us if we tell the delegate that you won't be arriving after all. You fell prey to particularly clever bandits and I'll be taking that lightsaber from you."

"I don't think so." Ashanti's memory self growled the words at the same time a man's baritone growled it as well. From nowhere a huge giant of a human male launched himself at the blaster-wielding thug, punching him in the jaw with one powerful swing. The attacker was obviously not built to handle such a punch as Ron-Seng Jinn delivered, for he crumpled up and fell into a heap.

Ron-Seng had grabbed the blaster and had it trained unwaveringly at the remaining attacker. The man looked nervous but that was about it. Ashanti had chosen that time to swing her saber up, forcing the other lightsaber out of the man's lax grip.

"Don't get overconfident, my friend," she had hissed and thrust her own saber through his middle.

"You wanted it?" asked Ron-Seng to the man, who's expression widened in shock. "I think you got it, and more expertly crafted and handled."

"Never mess with a professional," Ashanti had added and the man fell back, dead. Ashanti had looked up to see the most handsome human she had ever seen. She gave a lop-sided smile and toppled over herself.

The memory went blank, because well, Ashanti didn't remember anything after that. She did remember waking in Ron-Seng's home, his beautiful wife Ravia dressing her back wound. On her stomach her memory self could not see the human woman as she worked, but the remembering Ashanti could and tears formed.

She had been jealous of Ravia, jealous of the loving man she had, the beautiful home and belongings and her sweet nature and even tempered attitude. Ashanti could always have been called chaotic and that would have been complimentary. To be calm, not overly energetic was a dream Ashanti dared not dream.

Ravia's brown eyes widened when she saw the injury and she clucked her tongue as she placed a bacta salve on it. "This will heal soon enough, especially if you concentrate with your Jedi powers."

"Thank you," her doppelganger had muttered.

"My husband assures me that no offense is taken is your lateness." Amusement that Ashanti did not consciously remember tinged Ravia's husky voice. "It seems he was late as well. I've heard of meeting in the middle, but not in the literal sense."

"He was Ron-Seng Jinn, the Plumeran I was to meet?" Ashanti heard herself say, turning to look at the woman.

Ravia nodded. "Our home is your home. When you are rested my husband is willing to talk to you about the girl with the Jedi potential."

"Is there a reason why I was attacked?"

Ravia hesitated. "An investigation is in action. My husband is spearheading it. This is very unusual for our planet."

"Plumera is known for its peace and prosperity," agreed the memory Ashanti.

"It was also known for it's friendship and welcoming haven," murmured the watcher.

"We try," laughed Ravia, a low husky sound, calming and soothing. Her answer was in response to the memory Ashanti but it fit either observation.

The conversation continued, with the two women exchanging information about each other and becoming immediate friends. The thirty minutes were quickly up and Ashanti stood there frozen in silence a few minutes more. Tears cascaded down her face.

Ron-Seng had saved her that day. The attack had been specifically made by the girl's distant family, who had plans to rid themselves of the girl through slavery. Her special Jedi abilities could be honed elsewhere to a greater financial advantage. Ashanti had healed and the girl had traveled to the Temple. She had been apprenticed to a strong master and, if Ashanti remembered right, was a respected knight now herself.

Those few days in the Jinn household had been warm and comforting. The hole in her soul from the recent death of her love, Drad, in a hideous manner and from her belief that she had failed him had been eating her alive. The Jinns had given her a renewed sense of self worth and the friendship that she needed. She had visited often, taking 'vacation' between missions to visit and she had always been welcome. Communiqués from the Jinns kept her abreast of news should her visits be infrequent. Ron-Seng jokingly called her Ashanti Jinn, telling her she was the sister they never had.

For Ron-Seng and Ravia, Ashanti would have done anything. Anything.

Now in her care was a boy, Ravia and Ron-Seng's boy, who depended upon her train him in the ways of the Jedi. Ron-Seng would have been proud that his son was an apprentice and both would have been thrilled that Ashanti herself trained him. To them, Ashanti could do no wrong, and she planned to keep it that way.

Qui-Gon thought Ashanti would never come out. The thirty minutes had seemed like a lifetime. His master came out pale and shaken, lines where tears had streamed down her face were still visible. Qui-Gon became worried.

"Are you alright?" he demanded and Ashanti blinked at him.

"Do you know how much like your father you are, Qui-Gon Jinn?" she asked him pensively.

He looked at her stupidly, not knowing what to say. Finally he grinned. Ashanti's heart lurched. "No, but if you hum a few bars I can fake it!" he quipped lamely.

She didn't laugh, she didn't smile, she didn't groan. She continued to look at him. "It's not your thirteenth birthday yet, but I find I can't wait any longer." From a pouch on her belt she pulled two small holo projectors. One she activated and two tiny figures appeared on the small, circular platform. "These are your parents, Ron-Seng and Ravia Jinn. They were my best friends in the whole universe and I would have done anything for them, but they asked only one thing of me." She looked at Qui-Gon and sniffled. "To love and care for their son as if he were my own."

She handed him the holo pictures and he stared at them in wonder. He did look like his father, Qui-Gon noted, but he saw a bit of his mother every morning in the mirror as well. They were a handsome couple and they looked as if they had been happy.

"They loved you. To have you be a knight like me would have given them great joy. They were my family, my brother and sister it seemed. You are all of them I have left." Qui-Gon looked at Ashanti and saw the strong emotion in her chiseled features and teal eyes.

"I wish I had known them, even remember them." Qui-Gon murmured these words and turned off the holographic recorder.

"You have much of them in you. With a little work, I can talk a little chaos in you and you'll be the perfect mix of the three of us." Ashanti crooked a smile in his direction and winked.

"The Prophecies forbid," blasphemed Qui-Gon in perfect imitation of his master. Ashanti's tail looped with mild amusement.

"I know you're here, Pak, hovering around trying to figure out what the crazy aliens are babbling about." Pak's outline shimmered into view. "There you are! Let's go for a ride. I think we should visit the last place our missing knight and his dead apprentice visited before pulling a disappearing act."

Qui-Gon looked at her. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Perfectly. Let's go get into mischief."

Pak chose that moment to put in his two cents worth. "That will not be hard."

Ashanti and Qui-Gon choked on their laughter. "Pak," Ashanti said, throwing her arms out as if to embrace Pak's shimmering form, "you fit in just fine. And you may be more right than you know." She looked pensive a moment, her determination and spirit renewed by her memory encounter. "I may believe in the Force and all it's wonders, but disappearing acts? That's too magical for my taste."