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Author	Topic: Master I Am (Yoda 796 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete Story
Caledre Title: Author: Fists of Ion Registered: Feb '06	Date Posted: 2/17/06 4:56am Subject: Master I Am (Yoda 796 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete Story - Date Edited: 2/18/06 11:02pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Caledre
	MASTER I AM by Caledre DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and Yoda are George Lucas' babies. I'm just sitting. SUMMARY: Yoda and his master are dispatched to investigate a dark side threat above Kashyyyk. My take on how Yoda became a Master, and how he gained the friendship of the wookies. 796 BBY The starlines shrunk abruptly and shifted into the familiar pinholes of star clusters as the fleet of Dreadnoughts emerged from hyperspace at the edge of the system. Admiral Dillerz blinked back the brief, familiar feeling of vertigo and shifted in her command chair to call over her shoulder; “Situation?” The Duros crewman looked up from his instruments, red eyes unreadable, thin lips parted. “Brigand fleet behind the second moon, Admiral.” That’s it then, thought Dillerz. “Battle stations.” The Givin made a noise beside her as the ship’s alert klaxons sounded and the internal lights flashed an alarming red. Dillerz turned to regard him. Even though the Givin Jedi had been aboard ship since the beginning of the mission, the sight of him still managed to instill her with unease. She avoided his black eyes, deep set within their mournful sockets. His skull like face betrayed no emotion save for perpetual grief, yet his oddly proportioned limbs, always akimbo as if he were squatting under some unperceived weight, gave him a distorted appearance. His bony face made him seem as if the posture of his own body pained him. “You disagree, Filbur?” “A major engagement will end badly for you at this juncture, Admiral,” the mealy mouthed Jedi intoned. He even sounded pitiful. “I have already calculated the odds based upon the intelligence we have on Commodore Jegger’s armada. Factoring in what we know his weapons are capable of with the numerical superiority of his snubfighter contingent and the inexperience of your pilots despite their advanced ships, the odds of your fleet emerging victorious from a direct assault is precisely 976.05 to one.” Dellerz arched one blonde eyebrow. “Precisely?” “Only droids deal in approximations, Admiral.” Not Givin. Their very society was mathematically based; even a youngling among them capable of instinctively and accurately plotting astrogational computations it would take the standard navicomputer a few moments to plan in little more than an instant. She didn’t doubt Filbor’s calculations for a second. “What do you suggest?” “Let us Jedi even your odds.” * The Jedi Knight called Yoda hovered a meter off the deck plating on a tingling cushion of Force, chin barely touching the dim beige life support panel strapped to his chest. His eyes were closed, and it seemed as if the star system played out upon the inside of his eyelids. Through the force, things you will see. Other places. Though he was far removed from the command bridge with its panoramic view of the system, he could see the green planet of Kashyyyk suspended in space, with the light of its sun lending a purple outline to its eastern hemisphere, and backlighting the three diminutive moons that circled in slow orbit. Beyond that, as if the third moon were transparent, he could see the pirate armada gathered. From the Force, nothing is hidden. Concentrating on the armada (he did not count the ships – his fellow Jedi Filbur Klee had surely already numbered the capital ships and their fighter compliments), Yoda was able to bring its phantom image into focus as if peering through a finely tuned macroscope. He could see brigands scrambling away from half eaten meals, hear the reverberating pulse of their shipboard alarms and the bark of their chiefs over the comms, calling them to action. Moving through the ships, he could feel the tension of beings preparing to kill and be killed spreading through the decks. The Jeggers were indeed surprised by the arrival of the fleet, but Yoda knew it would be a few moments only before their fear and surprise gave way to swagger and contempt. Yoda did not have the ability to compute odds at lightspeed the way his Chivin comrade did, but he knew at a glance that the Republic task force was outnumbered. Retracting his probing consciousness from the mustering pirates, he was suddenly startled to find a trace of calm already amid the bridge crew of one of the enemy ships. The presence of mind, the surety of that persona, stood out amongst the panicked brigands as surely as an ironoak stood among wind-blown feathergrass. But it was not the command of this entity which stood out to Yoda. It was the overwhelming anger dominating that mind, threatening to break through its superficial tethers of calm. The wrathful feeling was new to Yoda, like a cold air so far below freezing it burned his very soul. Then it was abruptly gone, as though whatever battery had put forth the emanation had vanished from the ship. Padawan, did you feel it? Yoda’s eyes opened, thoughtful. He floated gently to the floor, displaying a control that he felt his master’s emotions warm over. Three quarters of the knights he had known would have crashed to the floor after breaking the connection so quickly. Yoda deflected his master’s pride not with embarrassment, but due concern over the presence he had felt. “Felt it I did, my master. What…?” I do not know. Yet. The battle will join. Prepare. Filbur is on his way. Yoda already knew. He stood, tridactyl toes curling in his custom magna boots. He sealed the gauntlets, activated the life support controls on his chest panel, and reached for the small helmet at his side with its two polarized lenses. The suit was white in hue, as were the sleeves of his Jedi tunic beneath. The helmet was specially forged in a triangular shape to accommodate his singular ears. He had sensed the amusement of some of the human crew as he’d walked through the ulterior corridors to the bay garbed in small suit. To the majority of them he was child like, he knew. He had felt their emotions as if he were passing through a hallway of thin veils which flowed over him then broke and were left behind. They ranged the gamut from maternally protective, to worrisome, to bitingly skeptical. Were he still a young Padawan, left suddenly behind in size by his fellow younglings, he would have railed at them, shaking his clawed fist, only increasing their various prejudices, validating them; “Judge me by my size do you?” But he was no longer that child that had hid in a maintenance closet of the Jedi temple, blocking out the ridicule of his immature peers with the secluded darkness and smell of cleaning compounds and maintenance droid lubricants. He was a Jedi and he had a mission. He fit the helmet on his head and tightened the seals, inhaling the compressed oxygen, hearing the shallow, mechanical sound of his breathing through the mask. The door behind him opened and the Filbor waddled in. The Givin needed no support suit to brave the vacuum of space. His species was blessed with the ability to seal themselves completely off and survive for a full standard day. How infinite and wondrous was the Galaxy and all those who inhabited it! Filbor moved the length of the bay and crawled into the open cockpit of his personal fighter, a single man, boxy, compact craft the Jedi had constructed from scratch himself with all the solemnity and attention he had directed toward his lightsaber. Yoda nodded. “Ready I am.” “Flooding the bay,” Filbor announced. The bay door slid wide open and Yoda allowed himself to be whisked out into empty space with the rest of the fleeing oxygen. The freefalling sensation in the pit of his stomach ended when Master Karthuda reached out with one ebony forearm and caught him around the waist. In a moment Yoda was straddling the Duinuogwuin’s 100 meter long serpentine torso, between the great bat wings. Karthuda The White was the eldest and greatest of the Jedi council, though just how venerable he was no one knew. For the past one hundred years he had tutored Jedi apprentices, and colossal face of the star dragon with its huge, kind eyes, was the first Yoda himself remembered regarding him. It was said he had seen the thought bomb detonation at the end of the last Sith War, and was instrumental in the subsequent reformation of the Republic and the Jedi council. Some said he was even older than that. In response to a young Yoda’s question on the subject, Master Karthuda had only smiled (with a maw of teeth that had sent many a being unaccustomed to the gentle star dragon running shamelessly for the exit) and said; “Look to the past only when the present situation demands it, my apprentice.” Before the eager Yoda could ask again; “And don’t wear the same question like a garment every day, or the holes will become offensive.” Now, Master Karthuda spoke to Yoda through the Force. Like Filbor, he was immune to the negative effects of space, and his kind could swim through the stars with all the agility of a silverwake in the sea. “We must engage the Jeggers before they reach the fleet but after they have cleared the moons. Kashyyyk’s orbit has placed their capital city in direct facing. Any debris from the battle that isn’t broken up in the atmosphere may hit the population center, and will decimate their forests. Understand, I do, my Master. Remember your teachings. They will serve you through the conflict. Remember them well, I do. We have a few moments before we will be in position. Why don’t you review them? Yoda grunted behind his mask and closed his fists around his master’s dorsal ridges as the Dreadnoughts fell away and Karthuda’s wings augmented by the Force propelled them away from the fleet with the same speed as a sublight accelerator. On their starboard side, Filbor’s small ship kept pace. Master Karthuda never missed an opportunity to relate wisdom to any given situation. If successful, they made for instructive parables to pour into the ears of eager younglings. To a child, medicine is best taken coated in sweets, Karthuda had told him once. Meet no conflict head on. Better it is, to redirect it, Yoda mentally intoned. Avoid rather than stun. Stun rather than maim. Maim rather than kill. Precious, all life is, and be replaced, it cannot. Though it was Karthuda’s favorite lesson, it was not a tired schoolboy mantra rendered meaningless by hours of repetition. There was a wisdom behind the words. The Force was the Jedi’s ally, and it was generated by life. Without life, there could be no Force, and every death weakened it. The armada passed around the moon. Behind the polarizing lenses they were dark shapes that seemed to emerge from the purple light of the massive sun. Yoda took his lightsaber from his belt and gripped his knees tighter around the ridged segment he rode. * Not yet, Jedi. Not yet. Darth Malleus recoiled from the probing tendrils of the Jedi, retreating from his perception like a thing seeking the fugue of shadow. Unconsciously he took a step backwards. “Anything wrong?” Commodore Galleck Jegger, Malleus’ pawn for the past seven months. Malleus had coordinated Jegger’s ragtag pirate fleet, fashioning it to an armada of considerable power in the outlying systems, all with the aide of the Dark Side and his own command of Battle Meditation. Ostensibly, the Jegger Pirates had suddenly become a lucrative enterprise, whose membership was craved by every cutthroat and space dog from the Colonies to the Outer Rim. But their ability to amass wealth and spread fear was secondary to Malleus’ true purpose; that of raiding every museum and archaeological site short of the Jedi Archives on Coruscant for Sith knowledge. What little he had attained from his own master, Darth Zannah, had only been enough to whet his appetite. Like Bane, whom Malleus felt a certain spiritual kinship with, his only thought was to orchestrate the revenge of the Sith against the oppressive Jedi. He disagreed with Bane on one point though. It would not take a thousand years to bring about the arrival of the Sith’Ari, the Sith messiah. That individual he was certain, had arrived in the person of himself. He understood well the Rule Of Two and the need for secrecy. Did not the shadow adder wait for the first light of dawn before striking its sleeping enemy’s heel? That dawn would only come for Malleus after he had amassed sufficient knowledge and power to contend against the Jedi. But now was too soon. Had he been mistaken in not staunching the infamy of the Jeggers? Had it spread so far as to attract the attention of the Jedi? He had already amassed such a cache of forbidden knowledge…to have it all go to waste… No, it could not be. The Jedi were here now. At least one of their number had briefly sensed his presence. If the Sith were discovered now, it would be like breaking open a cocoon prematurely and killing the nightmoth within before it had had the opportunity to spread its lustrous black wings. There were three. If he but lent his influence to the Jeggers, the Jedi would be defeated. But if they were defeated, more would come. No. The Jeggers were expendable. The Sith must survive. Jegger was still staring at him, the whites of his eyes shocking in his black Sakiyan face. The scarred lips curled in a permanent sneer. “Its nothing. We outnumber them. Scramble your fighters.” Jegger nodded slowly. “As you say.” “Galleck…,” snarled one of the bridge crew, a lupine Shistavenan. “Commodore!” Jegger barked back, turning away from Malleus to address the fierce looking pirate manning the sensor console. “Commodore. The Dreadnoughts have halted. No fighters except one coming out to meet us.” “One?” Galleck chuckled, a laugh that was joined heartily by some of the other crew. “He’d better slow down and take a look behind him, or he’s going to be in for an unpleasant surprise.” Only the Shistavenan did not offer up another laugh. Malleus knew the reason already. He backed away, slinking off the bridge unnoticed. “There’s something else coming. 100 meters long. Closing fast. Its not a ship.” Galleck cocked his head. He glanced back at Malleus, the strange man his crew had taken to calling their good luck charm. Ever since he had arrived on board and proven himself worthy of the crew by defeating twelve of his best armed fighters, the luck of the Jeggers had turned consistently for the better on every outing. Under Malleus’ direction they had defeated superior forces, outwitted formidable planetary defenses, and gleaned a heap of spoils every time. The only dividend Malleus demanded in exchange for his tactical expertise was a choice of every other target. And the targets he chose were usually pretty odd. Libraries, universities, out of the way science outposts and such drack. In truth, Galleck was a little unnerved by Malleus. The man was too quiet, too serious. Even amid a veritable army of loose lipped thieves as eager to celebrate their victories as to win them, Malleus never participated in any of the crew’s revelry. He kept to his quarters, poring over old books and peeking at dusty holocrons. Yet despite his bookishness, everyone who witnessed his barehanded treatment of the twelve best fighters knew better than to challenge his nebbishness. And there were those milky yellow eyes and gray skin…you never knew what he was looking at. Sometimes, it seemed as if he were staring always inward. What did a man see who stared at himself so long? Then, ever since they’d hijacked that lighter bound for the University on Coruscant, he’d gotten a hold of that old mask. A black thing of a type Galleck had never seen. Malleus wore it all the time. Never took it off. Galleck had been entertaining ideas of doing away with Malleus. Not simply because he found the man creepy, but because it seemed to Galleck that the crew looked to Malleus for instruction more than himself. Wasn’t he the Commodore? Hadn’t he started his whole milking thing? They were looking to him even now as that thing, that whatever it was, came barreling at them with only one fighter for escort. But Malleus wasn’t there. Where had he gotten off to? * The fighters spewed out of the pirate cruisers like angry wingstingers flushed from their nest. Z-95’s, heavily modified. Master…thought Yoda. So many there are… Do not fear. Fear I have not. But time this will take. You’re right. Filbur must press on. We will take the fighters. In answer, the Givin’s fighter throttled forward, spiraling right at the oncoming fighter formation as if out of control. The Z-95’s answered with cannon fire, but their aim proved ineffective against the Jedi’s hyperspeed reactions. The little craft seemed too box-like to even execute the maneuvers Filbor demanded from her, but Givin craftsmanship and the power of the Force were not to be underestimated. “I will make for the first ship,” came Filbor’s voice over Yoda’s comm. Then the Z-95’s broke formation at the moment before Filbor’s fighter should have collided with the wing commander. They scattered every which way, opening like a mouth, the throat of which was an open corridor to the capital ships in orbit around the third moon. The Givin’s fighter swept toward them and then Yoda and Karthuda were too occupied to see his progress. It seemed to Yoda that they had flown directly into a maelstrom, and he was reminded of the first time he had flown on his Master’s back over the grassy fields of Dantooine in the midst of a real storm. Karthuda had been enacting one of his Force parables again, and had flown them directly at a black twisting cloud. Yoda had been sure the violent winds would rip them from the sky as they did so often the mill fans of the native wind farms. After an initially bumpy ride though, they had found themselves in the cyclone’s epicenter, an area of quiet serenity such as Yoda had never known. “In the midst of contention,” Karthuda had said, “the Jedi must be like the cyclone. Though he deals violence, at his center he is still.” Yoda felt the Force flow through his master as they plunged into the fray, and he knew even as the great star dragon began to twist his snake like body and dip and turn and spiral, that he would not fall. It was just a fact, as sure as the purple light of the sun. The Force would not allow it. He felt the fear of the pilot renewed. They had come expecting a fight that would quickly go to their advantage, and now they were confronted with what to them was an unspeakable nightmare. A monster that swept among them with the same speed and agility, and decimated their ranks with lashes of its great tail and thrusts of its bullish head. Yet some regained their wills, and began to steel themselves to meet the threat. To these, Yoda turned his attention. Raising his hand, reaching out into the Force and releasing it like a flutterdove, he sent the wings of fighters yawing violently of their own accord. A pair of fighters collided with each other and the two ships went twisting off into space, their wingtips fused like the hands of dancers. They tripped across the stars. Karthuda’s tail struck and shattered canopies, crushed nose cones, flattened turbines, and sent shrieking pirates ejecting from their doomed crafts. Then three fighters broke off and looped behind the deadly star dragon. Yoda turned, lightsaber in hand as their blaster cannons opened up, spitting green fire. Yoda’s emerald blade lanced out, and emptying himself of all conscious will, he allowed the Force to fill him, guiding his saber-arm, pushing his reactions to intercept and even anticipate attacks with a speed no unaided being could ever possess. The Force acted as a magnet too, drawing the blasts to his lightsaber, diffusing them, batting them aside as if they were pebbles and incapable of punching holes in durasteel hulls. Now Yoda exercised an infinitesimal portion of his will, forging it with the will of the Living Force which defended him like an ethereal wall of sentient antibodies. The fire of the fighters turned against their progenitors, and two of the attackers burst into flame. Another line of fighters crept up alongside. These were two man models, and the rear gunners swiveled their turret cannons to pepper Karthuda’s flank. It was more of a release, than a cast. Yoda opened his hand and entertained the thought of crippling the offending bogeys. The Force took that thought and put it to action. His lightsaber flew from his hand, cutting across space like a jade spear. It dove through both engines of the nearest fighter and continued on through the other two before arcing back into his waiting hand. Internal explosions lit the cockpits or flamed out the unbidden holes torn by Yoda’s saber. The three fighters fell back and did not continue their assault. All the while the Duinuogwuin continued his wild assault. He thrashed his segmented body, striking right and left, knocking aside fighters like offending parasects. His great head lanced out, and his powerful jaws clamped down onto the wing of a fighter and with a thrash of the neck it was sheared free. As quick as it had commenced, the dogfight was over. Z-95’s floated aimlessly, some in pieces. Debris spiraled off into space. A few pirates huddled fetal and small, safe in their vacuum suits, but no doubt sick from the endless spinning. Yoda shared a glance with one of them. The man’s eyes were wide behind his visor plate, wide and disbelieving. Yoda permitted himself an amused chuckle. “Over this fight is I would say. Yes.” Admiral Dillerz’ voice broke over the comm in Yoda’s helmet. “Jedi, this is Admiral Dillerz. We saw….,” the woman paused. “We can’t…” “Believe you must,” Yoda cut her off, not needing even the Force to anticipate her words. “Time for doubt later there will be. Survivors there are. Save them you must, or perish they will.” “Understood,” Dillerz answered, the prior falter diminished in her speech. “But the armada…” “Follow us. A blockade between them and open space you must create, or to hyperspace they will jump. And then, fight again we will have to.” “Understood. Understood and out. Lead the way, Master Jedi.” Yoda chuckled. “Master.” I believe she meant me, Yoda. “Certainly. Yes yes.” The Star Dragon banked, unfurled its wings, and soared towards the waiting ships. * Galleck slumped against the rail that separated the command bridge from the gunnery pit. “What the hell just happened? What the hell is that thing?” he muttered. “I don’t know Commodore, but its coming right at us,” said the Shistavenan, Morrl. “And that fighter…” “Never mind the damn fighter,” Galleck said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the validity of the fighter being any threat. Three fourths of his fighter squadron, some of the best flyers he’d ever seen, had just been decimated by a 100 meter long monster with a jawa in a flight suit on its back. He flicked the ship to ship address toggle and roared into the comm; “All ships, charge up your main guns and blast that thing out of the stars!” * Darth Malleus heard the announcement over the comm in his personal craft, The Instigator. He shook his head and reaching out with the Force, loaded another heavy crate of artifacts into the cargo compartments with a gesture. Galleck had been a second rate Captain when he met him and with more ships and more men he was just a third rate Commodore. It was a shame to lose the convenience of his own personal fleet of ships, especially when if he were but to return to the bridge and coordinate he could surely take a sizable bite out of their defense forces this day. But the preservation of the artifacts, the only truly priceless loot these pirates had unwittingly won for him, and the survival of the Sith itself in the person of himself were above any military concerns. With planning, all the armed forces the Republic could muster would not be able to stand against the full power of the Dark Side once unleashed. Besides, Galleck still had the weapon Malleus had developed for him. Maybe it would save him. More importantly, maybe it would destroy the Jedi that had just annihilated his fighter contingent. He sighed and returned to the deck for the last cargo pod, wishing he had time to uninstall and transport that weapon so it could be used again in the future. It had proved priceless in its use against planetary defenses and sector defense forces. If only Malleus could have seen how it fared against Jedi and the Republic fleet. As he stepped onto the bottom of the ramp, he froze. Standing (or squatting?) before him was a ghostly looking Givin. Not one he remembered from the pirate crew. No. This one wore Jedi robes. * Filbor had easily avoided the Star Galleon’s quad laser turrets and turbolasers, weaving inbetween their fire zones until he’d found a bare spot on the underbelly to safely activate his fighter’s magna-clamp and attach himself to the hull. It had been a simple if slow going matter to cut through the bulkhead with his lightsaber then and clamber up an access shaft before the emergency plating kicked in. Then it was a laborious crawl up a too small passage under the deck until he found a junction point with enough space for him to cut another hole in the deck and emerge into the ship proper. It had been his intent to take the bridge and possibly turn the Galleon’s batteries on its fellows to aide the Republic fleet, but upon entering the hangar bay, he’d been overwhelmed with an odd cold feeling. He had followed it cautiously like a nek hound with a blood scent until it had led him to the open ramp of this personal craft. The figure who emerged shortly after was the source of the cold feeling in the Force. It was as if he (or she, for the being’s face was hidden behind an archaic black mask and its form was shrouded by a dark hooded cloak) were a conduit for negativity. Waves of powerful dark emotion seemed to flow from the dark figure. It was like nothing the Givin had ever experienced. “Who are you?” the figure rasped through its mask. “I might say the same,” Filbor answered. “But since you asked first, I’m Filbur Kee, Jedi Knight. And you…you’re under arrest.” “Jedi,” the figure hissed, and the word was spit out as it poisonous. “I will do you an honor this day that you may keep and know alone. You will be the first Jedi to witness the return of the Sith.” From the darkness of the figure’s left sleeve, as if it had been there all along, there came the familiar snap hiss of a lightsaber. But it was like no lightsaber the Givin Jedi had ever seen. He had been born and trained in the years following the destruction of the Sith, and knew of them only from the histories. He had seen varieties of lightsabers in his career, and knew their construction intimately, but the weapon the self-proclaimed Sith brandished at him was twice the size of any lightsaber he had ever seen. The blade was broad and crimson lined, and the thrumming sound of the massive energy loop emitting from the two handed hilt was commanding in the cavernous bay. It sounded like the purr of a great predatory feline. “It is Darth Malleus who speaks, Jedi,” the masked figure declared. And he stepped towards the Givin. It was all Filbor could do to light his golden saber in time to check the colossal red blade as it swept toward his neck. * Karthuda The White, with Yoda astride his back, sped toward the slowly moving galleons, the Republic Dreadnoughts charging at their back. As the turbolasers and quad guns began pom pomming bursts of green fire at them, Karthuda folded his wings and plunged into a power dive that made Yoda grip his master’s back with both hands. The star dragon executed a tight spin and cut across the bow of the second ship, speeding along its flank. Suddenly a huge energy blade of pure white burst to life in Karthuda’s right foreclaw and traced a glowing molten line along the galleon’s hull, exploding gun emplacements and shearing open its starboard side. A few feeble fighters emerged from its undercarriage and swept up to meet the threat. Repelling these fell to Yoda, and he did so in short order, assailing the bogeys with projectiles culled from the debris of the Galleon, compliments of the Force. * Galleck followed the beast as it cut a hole in Captain Furlgar’s galleon, the ship running alongside their own. Galleck shook his head. Some of the crew were jibbering, asking for Malleus. A few he had caught trying to slip off the bridge in the same manner. These he had killed himself with his disruptor. “Enough of this! We’re Jeggers and we’re not to be conquered this day! Not by some treacherous beastie out of the black depths of space! Train the Stormcannon on that thing and burn it out of our space!” Tildrik, the Weequay gunner in charge of Malleus’ Stormcannon glanced up from the pit. “If we use it this close, we’ll catch our own ships!” Galleck nodded. But if they didn’t kill that dragon thing they’d lose the ships anyway. Unless they could get away somehow. He turned away from the dragon. The damn thing was a distraction. The Republic ships were moving in now. In moments they’d have a clear line of fire around the edge of the moon. “Target those Dreadnoughts and fire!” * The Galaxy had been at relative peace for almost five hundred years since the last battle between the Sith and the Jedi at Ruusan. Filbor had never fought a death duel with lightsabers. Never even met an opponent who could wield one. Could the Sith really have returned? He didn’t doubt it now. He was sorely outmatched. The heavy blade of Darth Malleus was slower, but every attack pounded down his defenses like a hammer. He could barely get his guard back up before the great saber was clashing against his again, seeking to cleave him in twain. The Sith fought with a ferocity Filbor had never imagined. He staggered back as the red saber beat at him, first from the right, then from the left, from low, from high, darting in at him with its thrumming point, seeking to pin him to the wall he was now backing against like a Toydarian butterbee in some collection. He gave himself to the Force, trusting it to save him. Yet he knew he could not win unless he took the initiative and mounted a counterattack. Steeling himself, the cold bulk head pressing against his hard exospine, sparks and shards of red hot metal flying every time his saber sent the Sith Lord’s weapon sweeping into the wall instead of his body, he put one mental call out to Karthuda before he made his play; Karthuda! Yoda! Help me! Then he turned aside, letting the heavy weapon sink into the wall nearly to the hilt. He elbowed the faceless warrior with his boney joint, and brought his weapon up to split that devil’s mask down the middle… * Karthuda and Yoda both turned to the lead ship at the urgent message from their comrade. Before they had time to react though, a pulse of Dark Force energy rippled out from the galleon. A wave so strong it was tangible, and buffeted Karthuda aside, almost sent Yoda tumbling off his back. Then the blunt nose of ship swung wide two huge doors, and a ball of crackling, lightning-like energy erupted forth and went tumbling towards the oncoming fleet. And with every meter it passed, it swelled larger. * Admiral Dillerz stood up from her command chair as the energy ball rolled across space towards them. The Duros at the console behind her reached out and gripped her wrist. It was an action somewhere between helplessness despair and a firm, desperate desire to touch another living thing. Dillerz instantly understood it, and was glad. She had no time to call for evasive action, and the ponderous ships surely had no time to execute any such maneuvers anyway. The growing, crackling sphere was large enough to engulf three Dreadnoughts by the time it reached them, and it did, her’s included. It was as if an electrical storm of red lightning struck on every deck of the three lead ships simultaneously. The lightning caused consoles to explode, arced down corridors, lanced through crewmembers, frying their nervous systems with overwhelming spikes of power that blackened their flesh in seconds. To the other ships in the task fleet, it was as if the three Dreadnoughts had been ionized. Their running lights blacked out, and immediately they began to drift nose first, end over end, towards Kashyyyk. * Every Force-sensitive being within the system felt the power of the Stormcannon as it went off. It was an invention of Malleus himself; an infusion of technology and Sith alchemy; a battery of Dark Side energy wired into an amplifying core and directed by a focused beam emitter. The machine was unstable, but it effectively recreated and expelled a turbulent Force Storm. Once the storm-ball was emitted, it grew in power until it struck something living. The Jeggers had only used it against small targets thus far, directing it at emplacements and allowing the enemy to see its power, scare them into unconditional surrender. Word of it had spread to the Republic of course, and sent it worrying, forming fleets to apprehend them. But then it had been used in the vicinity of a Jedi and his apprentice on a spiritual sabbatical on a remote moon. The disturbance in the Force had been brought to the attention of the council, and that was why Master Karthuda, Yoda, and Filbor Klee had been dispatched to investigate. * The sudden wave of Dark Side energy from the Stormcannon was enough to befuddle Filbor in mid-strike. Enough to give Darth Malleus the instant he had been awaiting. The Sith Lord brought the colossal lightsabre up out of the wall and clove the Givin from his right hip to his shoulder, leaving him in two pieces. Thus, thought Malleus, falls the first of many. He turned back to his ship. * Yoda and Karthuda floated in space, dazed by the double psychic blow of the Starcannon and the death of Filbor somewhere on board the lead ship. Yoda. Yes, Master? Whatever transpires, that ship must be destroyed. Understand, I do. Karthuda’s many legs clutched the hull of the crippled Galleon they had just assaulted, and bent. In an instant he sprung at the command ship, turning toward the open mouth of the Starcannon housing. * “Ready for another shot?” Galleck yelled, stalking up to the main viewport to see the damage he had caused. “Thirty seconds,” said the gunner. Galleck turned to his navigator, a Brubb. “Plot us a course out of here. As soon as we punch a hole through the rest of those Dreadnoughts, I want us to jump to lightspeed.” One of the crewmen at the gunnery station shrieked. “That thing is coming right at us!” The huge white star dragon did indeed head straight for the bridge, but sharply banked and plunged toward the fore. It landed with a jarring impact on the nose of the ship and poked its head down into the Starcannon housing. “Great!” Galleck exclaimed. “Take its head off!” “Fifteen seconds!” called the gunner. “Do it!” Galleck yelled. “Can’t!” the gunner retorted. “Ten seconds!” His finger hovered over the fire control. The first gunner was standing, peering out the viewscreen. Watching the dragon crawling into the hole. It would never reach the emitter in time, Galleck thought. “Hey!” said the first gunner pensively, pointing out the window, not at the star dragon, whose tail was the only thing showing now. “Five!” “Something else is….” Galleck glanced up, following the first gunner’s finger. And he saw it. The small form shooting like a missile directly at the bridge screen. Something miniscule. It couldn’t do them any damage. A piece of debris maybe? Glowing, green. The pirate crew flinched as that small something struck the transparisteel. The green blade of the lightsaber burst through the viewport. The irresistible pull of the vacuum drew the entire crew towards the hole. The gunner was ripped from the fire control. The navigator swept away from his computations. Galleck Jegger was still awaiting the one count when he was flung off the bridge of his ship and cast out into the cold, unforgiving darkness. Yoda clung to the captain’s chair until the emergency plating slid shut over the broken viewport. The bridge was silent but for tolling alarms and Yoda silenced them presently with an offhanded swipe of his lightsaber. He leapt onto the chair and disengaged his helmet, just as the bridge door hissed open and two pirates with heavy blaster rifles stormed in, one a towering Whiphid, the other a Gotal. They opened up from the hip at him. His lightsaber was out and had battered the deadly bolts aside in the first instant. In the second he was on them, and the barrels of their weapon at their feet. Yoda stood balanced on the severed, still glowing stock of the Whiphid’s rifle. He weighed nothing at all, but the humming lightsaber in his hand, the little clawed fist curled around his chin fur, and the look in the small Jedi’s green eyes was unmistakable. “Surrender you will,” he said. It was no question. The Whiphid whined plaintively. The Gotal dropped the remainder of his weapon. * Karthuda was packed into the too-tight housing, staring into the barrel of the Starcannon. If not for the actions of his former apprentice, he would now be one with the Force. He sighed, and then a cold chill ran the length of his spine. Nothing compared to the emission of this terrible device, but unmistakable to one who had witnessed their rise and been in orbit over the Ruusan system when they died. Sith. Karthuda snarled and began to back out of the cannon mouth. * Darth Malleus piloted his ship away from the armada. In moments he would be out of range of the coming battle. No one would know of his part in the play. He turned to the navicomputer and let the Dark Side pick his path through the stars. * Yoda leapt down from the wookie’s arms and deactivated his lightsaber. “Your comrades, tell my terms. Surrender they must, or else not. But choose they must. Now.” The pirates nodded emphatically and left the bridge. Yoda took a moment to reflect on all that had transpired. Filbor was dead. Had the pirates killed him, then? But what of that presence he had felt just before the battle…? The comm on his helmet squawked. Yoda went to it. “Master Jedi…,” it was an officer’s voice. A captain from one of the other ships. Holmonar. Captain Holmonar. “The Dreadnoughts. They’re locked into the planet’s orbit!” Yoda’s eyes widened. He was blind here on the bridge. Couldn’t see the….no. Not blind. Not blind at all. Yoda composed himself, closed his eyes, seated himself on the deck, and let the Force guide him. Yes. There they were. The three capital ships. 650 meters each, headed for the capital city of Rwookrrorro. The wookies. Children howling. They could see them down below in the sky above through their treetops. There was nowhere to flee. Their shadows fell across the land. Darkened the forests. And on board the ships. The Admiral. The crew. Thirty thousand beings, all silent. But there was no time to think on that now. He pictured himself out of the ship. Hovering in space. No. Not floating without control. Standing. Standing between the planet and the ships. Arms outstretched. A girder to keep them apart. A buffer to send them back. A shield. The Force, whirling about him, being drawn to him from the primal energies of the sun. From the frightened Wookies on Kashyyk. From the deliberating pirates on this very ship. From the tense Republic soldiers on the remaining cruisers. He felt their interconnectedness. Took solace in the knowledge. Drew strength from it. Lashed it all to his will. The three dead Dreadnoughts paused above Kashyyyk, then slowly, impossibly, began to turn backwards. * Karthuda The White closed on the small craft to which he had traced the source of the dark side influences. A Sith was aboard that ship. There was no doubt. But even as he closed the distance, the ship became a blur and was gone in a twinkle. Jumped to hyperspace. It was even now speeding across the Galaxy on one of a thousand different courses. If only Filbur Klee were here to calculate which. * After the unwanted fanfare on Kashyyyk, after the funerals of Filbur Klee and the soldiers of the destroyed Dreadnoughts, after the inquisition by the council and senate, after all was put to rest, only the master and the apprentice remained. Karthuda was curled atop the length of the uppermost spire of the temple, his greatest student seated on the ledge, clawed feet dangling. “There is talk among the wookies of granting you a planet-wide life debt for ten generations. Such a thing has never been bestowed upon anyone before.” “Their friendship I prize. Of honors, I am not entitled.” Karthuda smiled at the humility of his favorite student. He had not told him about the Sith he had detected. Had told no one. It seemed impossible to him now that it could be true. He had seen the Sith die. No one could have survived. Yet… “I am leaving the Council, my friend.” Yoda’s ears perked at that. He regarded his master. “For what reason, I am wondering?” “I have matters to attend to. Beyond the Outer Rim. I will return. Though perhaps not in your lifetime.” “A long life, I have. If it is the will of the Force.” “It is, I’m sure. I foresee it.” Yoda watched the speeders streaking across the reddening horizon. He watched the glint of light on city steel, and thought of other sunsets he had shared with this being. So old, so wise. A witness to much, with much more to teach. “Go with you, I could.” “That would not do,” Karthuda answered. “The younglings will have need of a new teacher. The Council, a new Grand Master.” Yoda’s eyes widened. “A Master I am not.” “You saved Kashyyk and your Master. You have passed your Trials. It has been decided already. By the right of the Council. By the will of the Force.” “Worthy I am not.” “Don’t carry your humility too far, my friend...” “Ohhh!” Yoda smiled, chuckling. “Let me finish, you did not. Worthy I am not. But to be worthy of your honor. As your apprentice…and friend. Strive to be worthy, I will.” Karthuda stared into the eyes of his old friend, and it seemed that the Force pooled in the little green master’s eyes. Like jade pools, they reflected memories they had shared, and images of things to come. Some victories. Some challenges. Dark times, but finally, light. Yoda would have his role to play in the centuries to come. As would he. Karthuda would set out to find the Sith, if they had survived. He would hunt them wherever they had scurried to. And Yoda would raise the next generation of Jedi Knights. And the next. And the next. Perhaps, unto the last. -----signature----- http://www.starwars.com/hyperspace/fiction/feature20081031.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/droid/mhyddroid/index.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/yoxgit/index.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/banemalar/index.html
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Bale Registered: May '05	Date Posted: 2/17/06 6:50am Subject: RE: Master I Am (Yoda 896 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete St
	Wow! That is simply spectacular. Such great characterization, descriptiveness, and drama. Your skills are impressive...most impressive. I'd list my favorite parts, but there's just too many. This was really well done from beginning to end. I think that we can expect great things from you. Bravo! (For what it's worth, you're only the second person to receive my 5-star applause) -----signature----- Missing scene: Vader in the meditation chamber: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/26817395/p1/?4 Decoy teaser trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvDksDPJoyk
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Caledre Title: Author: Fists of Ion Registered: Feb '06	Date Posted: 2/17/06 8:31am Subject: RE: Master I Am (Yoda 896 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete St - Date Edited: 2/17/06 8:35am (1 edits total) Edited By: Caledre
	Hey thanks for the line of smileys, Bale! I wasn't getting any hits on my all-OC piece, so I thought maybe I ought to do something with a major character in the title. I really appreciate the feedback. I was a little nervous about doing Yoda...I decided he wouldn't think in that unique speech pattern he has <shrug>. When I decided that it went a little quicker. Watch the boards! More to come! -----signature----- http://www.starwars.com/hyperspace/fiction/feature20081031.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/droid/mhyddroid/index.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/yoxgit/index.html http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/banemalar/index.html
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correllian_ale Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 2/17/06 11:41pm Subject: RE: Master I Am (Yoda 796 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete St
	Bravo! Another great piece form you Caledre! Wookiees & Yoda; two things I love that go great together... (it's like milk & Pepsi, but different) “And don’t wear the same question like a garment every day, or the holes will become offensive." -What a great line! -----signature----- Consider this my "throw back" jersey... I govern my life around my own personal code of ethics, and I suggest that you do the same.
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Kudzu Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 2/18/06 12:03am Subject: RE: Master I Am (Yoda 796 BBY - Yoda becomes a Master, befriends the wookies PG ACTION) Complete St
	An unexpected treat for someone browsing the Before the Saga forums. This was wonderful! -----signature----- Super Golden Ewok™ Recipient It should be the right of every American to go out and get wasted the day they're told that they're being sent to war. Ron Paul for U.S. President 2008
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