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Author Topic: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/18/06 12:29pm Subject: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Title: Dark Before the Dawn
Author(s): Jedi Linewalker
Timeframe: Time between TPM and AotC up to post ROTS
Characters: OCs, canon characters
Genre: PT
Keywords: Jedi Purges, OC, angst, action
Summary: The story of one of the last Jedi trained before the Purges
Notes: This is the “whole” story of my characters I wrote about in the Sanctuary round robin started by VaderLVR64. It will include those chapters, along with totally new material.

Dark Before the Dawn

***Prologue***

Blaster fire screamed all around Jedi Master Jenda Kasille as she deflected bolts with the golden blade of her lightsaber. Her dark, and hauntingly wise, brown eyes skimmed the battlefield, searching for the golden hair of her padawan, Daran Lightrider. The young man was brash, reckless, and generally unpredictable more often than not, and he often managed to find himself in the most precarious of circumstances. Even so, like many Masters to young padawans, she loved him as if he were her son.

Summoning the Force to do her will, she channeled the energy of it into pushing back and pinning a soldier wearing very heavy armor against a wall. Her hand still outstretched, the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly upwards at the memory of a lesson learned years ago from her own Master. In a calm, controlled voice, she spoke quietly to him, meeting his gaze even through the helmet’s visor, “You can either drop the weapon and walk away uninjured…or you can continue to fight and lose a little weight. Instantly.”

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his emotional state heighten dramatically, and his tension increased as well. He faltered, not moving, barely breathing, for a long moment. His indecisiveness needed a little prodding, Jenda thought. Suppressing the urge to smile, she echoed the words her Master, Mace Windu, had used just eight years ago against the Gank killers on Tanaab, “It’s your decision.”

She was almost certain the soldier paled at her words beneath his impassable armor, but his fingers relaxed and his blaster fell to the soft ground with a soft thud. He met her gaze again, and reached up slowly, removing his helmet, revealing a nearly human visage, save for the eyes which were a solid sapphire blue. “You’re right, Master Jedi,” he said softly, cradling the helmet to his side, “it’s not worth dying over. Secession can be achieved peacefully.”

The whining of blaster fire still zipped around them, and she turned and looked over the field. Republic soldiers were trying to stand the separatist forces off without killing them. Scattered here and there were several brown robes, other Jedi, like herself, sent here to assist in keeping the peace. Her eyes scanned the horizon once more, and still no sight of Daran. Where in the name of the Force is he? What can he possibly be getting into? echoed through her mind as she stood with the Separatist Sergeant. This was the third planet to announce its intent to separate from the Republic in the past year. If she was going to get to the bottom of this, she needed her mind clear, and that meant knowing exactly where young Daran Lightrider was.

Turning her attention back to the man she held at bay, she released the pressure of the Force holding him against the wall, and extinguished her lightsaber. “It’s good you understand that, Sergeant. Now, let’s hope your men, and your government, understand that as well.” Stretching out her hand, she willed the blaster to her grip, and it immediately obeyed, flying rapidly into her hand. “Now, call your men down. The time for violence is over.”

Before she could move any further, the high pitched whine of a speeder bike’s engine being pushed to its limit was audible over the din of combat. The source of the sound exploded over the roof of the small field house she and the sergeant stood next to, the sight of a speeder bike roaring overhead, bearing the brown robed body of a Jedi, made her whirl in tension filled preparation.

The Jedi on the bike leaped off the conveyance and flipped twice before hitting the ground, igniting its lightsaber, the sapphire blue blade flashing and striking rapidly like a blue dervish. The targets of the blade, a small unit of soldiers all bearing weapons aimed at the Jedi Master fell like houses of cards under the precise cuts of the blade.

The bodies of the eight men fell to the ground, lifeless, as the Jedi cut power to his blade and turned, revealing the young face, the golden hair and long padawan braid of Daran Lightrider. He was grinning as he hooked his blade back on his belt. “Sorry I’m late, Master,” he quipped. “I had a bit of a run in with an armored transport a couple of kilometers over,” he continued, nodding towards the east.

Jenda stood in shock for a moment, though she knew she should have expected exactly this sort of behavior from Daran. This was a disturbing pattern he had, acting rashly and impulsively. She opened her mouth to rebuke her errant padawan when he suddenly dropped the grin and, with amazing reflexes, grabbed his lightsaber from his belt, ignited it, and hurled it just past her head. The unmistakable sound of flesh sizzling around a lightsaber blade was impossible to miss, and she whirled, seeing the sergeant, shock pike in hand, fall to the ground, lifeless, with the sapphire lightsaber protruding from his chest.

Jenda was speechless, staring first at the body, then back at her padawan. Daran simply shrugged, and then walked over, retrieved his blade, extinguished it, and put it away. “He was about to attack you, Master. Probably kill you, if I hadn’t have stopped him.” The young man, his seventeen year old face needing a shave from the light golden fuzz on his cheeks and chin, regarded her calmly, his dark brown eyes meeting hers without a qualm in them.

Jenda bit down hard on her tongue for a second to keep from lashing out in the anger that Daran had an uncanny talent for rousing in her at times, then finally, under control again, spoke calmly, “Do you remember your lessons about disarming a hostile opponent, rather than killing, if possible?” Her tone dripped with not a little bit of sarcasm. She glanced about the battlefield, where the battle was quickly drawing to a close, the planetary forces finally being rounded up by the Republic Forces and Jedi. “Our directive is to come to a peaceful solution, Daran, not kill everyone in sight.”

Daran scowled and kicked at a rock on the ground, petulant. His voice was quiet, and he nodded softly. “Yes, Master, I do,” he replied quietly. “But he was still going to kill you if he had the chance. If I hadn’t stopped him, the only peace around here would be yours…your pieces. I just kept him from being able to do that. Is that so wrong, Master?” The young padawan’s eyes danced with an inner fire that she’d always found disturbing. He had so much anger in him, and she hadn’t a clue where it came from.

A small landspeeder was heading their way, bearing a couple of Jedi and a commander. Sighing, she reached up and pushed a hand back through her raven black hair, and looked at Daran in silence for a long moment before speaking. “Look, Daran,” she began, “I’m grateful that you saved my life. I’m grateful that you care for me that much. But we have a job to do, young padawan. To do that job, we have to follow our directive and common sense, not some reckless sense of adventure.”

The young man’s voice grew quieter, and his expression softened a bit, though it still held that almost characteristic scowl. “You’re like a mother to me, Master. You always have been. Much more of a mother than my actual mother ever was.” He kicked at the ground again, turning his face away from hers, almost as if avoiding her deep and wise gaze.

Jenda’s expression softened as well. She knew that Daran and his parents hadn’t had the best of relationships. It was said by Master Yoda that Daran felt as if his parents abandoned him because they didn’t want him when they brought him to the Temple to be tested, and then trained. He couldn’t understand that they were trying to do what was best for him. Is this what eats at you so, my young padawan? thought the Jedi Master to herself. Or is it something deeper…and darker?

She reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder affectionately, gently turning him back around to her. Cupping his chin in her hand, she lifted his face to her own. “Daran,” she said, “I’m honored that you feel so close to me. I’ve always thought of you like a son. Those feelings don’t excuse you from doing the right thing, from doing what you’ve been taught to do, though.”

The speeder stopped and Kosan Mendes, one of Jenda’s best friends, as well as a fellow Jedi Master, stepped from it and over to the pair. “Are you both all right?” he asked, his bronzed face showing deep concern. When they both nodded, he waved a hand at the speeder. “Then come. We’ve got to speak with the Prefect here, and come to some sort of peaceful resolution.”

The pair followed Kosan almost glumly, climbing into the hovering craft silently, without a word. Daran looked back over the field with a careful and discerning gaze, and he felt Jenda’s eyes watching him. “We’ll find more pieces than peace here, I’m afraid,” he sighed softly, to himself, a whisper so quiet few could have heard it. His voice reached Jenda’s ears, however, and she shook her head softly, hoping he’d let go of this darkness inside him before it was too late.


“I’m afraid that our negotiations failed, Masters,” said the flickering hologram of Jenda Kasille in the center of the Jedi Council chamber. “Despite all our efforts and arguments, the Kartolans still wish to secede from the Republic.” Her face was saddened, and it looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. The haunting brown of her eyes was obscured by the faint bluish whiteness of the hologram, but all in the chamber knew that gaze well. Even the honored guest present on this special session of the Council, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of Naboo, knew that gaze.

Murmurs of surprise and disappointment traveled around the chamber between the Jedi Masters, and the visiting political delegates. Palpatine smoothed his hair back self consciously a moment, and then stood, addressing Masters Yoda, Windu and Dooku. “If I may speak?” His blue gaze flickered back and forth between the three senior Masters on the Council, expectantly.

“Of course, Chancellor, by all means,” replied the dark skinned and bald Master Windu. His fierce expression belied his gentle nature, but spoke highly of his mentality when locked in combat. He regarded the image of his former padawan again and nodded for Palpatine to step forward to be picked up better by the projector.

The politician drew himself up, feeling the intense scrutiny of the Jedi Council on his person acutely. Few in this chamber trusted him, he knew. His dark garb was the best finery to be found on the planet Coruscant, and he comported himself with intense dignity, determined not to be cowed by the lack of trust. “Master Kasille,” he began, his soft, resonant voice easily heard. “I’m sure you did everything you could, that you all did. The Kartolans are not the first to secede from the Republic, and I somehow fear they won’t be the last. It’s unfortunate that you couldn’t persuade them to remain with us, but perhaps we can achieve some sort of diplomatic liaison between them and the Republic for future dealings? Perhaps, with time, they’ll reconsider.”

Jenda blinked a few times at the Chancellor, not exactly in disbelief, but apparently having expected something other than that from him. She cleared her throat a couple of times, then replied, “Chancellor, with all due respect, these people wish nothing further to do with the Republic. Their thoughts and feelings are quite clearly read by all here. It’d take some incredible and drastic feat to change a disparity of this magnitude.”

Another soft rumble of whispered comments echoed lightly through the Council chamber as Jedi Masters consorted with one another quietly. The Chancellor seemed to be nervously anticipating some sort of comment from the Council, so he didn’t speak again right away.

Yoda, his tiny, wrinkled green frame shifting a bit in his chair, clutched his stick closer to him and folded his hands atop it, resting his round chin on them. His long, pointed ears twitched slightly as he glanced around the room at all the Jedi in attendance. Finally, he sighed and looked down, lifting his eyes and tapping his stick against the floor for emphasis as he spoke, “Unfortunate, this is. This problem, let it go, we must. Their fate and future, not ours to decide, is it.”

The chamber was again abuzz with whispered conversations at Yoda’s words. The Jedi all looked at Yoda expectantly, as if waiting for more to be said from the ancient and wizened Master. Finally, Dooku, a distinguished looking older man, hardy and hale of body, stood slowly and stared at each and every Jedi in the chamber with an expression that spoke of being less than satisfied.

“So this is what has become of the vaunted Jedi Order,” his resonant and deep voice rang softly, but clearly, around the room. His piercing gaze met each Jedi’s in turn, and moved onward. “Every time something happens that warrants, that demands attention and resolution, we just…let it go.” He shook his head in disgust, glaring at the assembled members. “Three years ago, my former padawan, Qui Gon Jinn, was slain by the Sith, by a threat he tried to warn you about and you didn’t heed his concerns, and you did nothing to save him, nor anything in response to this outrage. Now, once again, we are faced with dire straits and bitter choices, and yet again, you do nothing!”

A younger Jedi Master’s face fell, a face Dooku recognized as the face of Qui Gon’s former padawan, Obi Wan Kenobi. Of all the Jedi assembled, Dooku felt that Obi Wan had probably tried to do more than any, yet even he still fell short. The young Master, recently appointed to the Council, would not look up, further solidifying Dooku’s position, in his mind, at least.

Yoda’s gravelly voice spoke quietly in the sudden and chill silence of the Jedi Council chamber. “Your pain, feel it we do, my former padawan. Your feelings, understand them, we do. But nothing, there is, that we can do. Qui Gon’s death, tragic it was, and affected us all deeply, it did, but impossible to resolve. The Sith, dead he is. Cut in two by Master Kenobi’s blade on Naboo.” The aged Master edged to the edge of his seat, glancing at Jenda, whose holographic representation blinked in unabashed shock.

Dooku whirled towards Yoda as he spoke, his dark eyes flashing with a fire disturbing in the eyes of a Jedi, all under the watchful eyes of the Jedi Council, and the Chancellor. The noble bearing of Dooku was fuelled with righteous anger, unmitigated and set free, rather than restrained and pent up as it had been by his training all his life. Now, it flowed free and nearly tangible, alive in its own right. “Yes,” he hissed, glaring down at his former Master. “The Sith is dead, yes. I thank Master Kenobi for that. At least he did something to assuage the tragedy of Qui Gon’s loss. What did the Council do? What did the Order do? Nothing!”

He straightened his tunic after his outburst, apparently gaining control of himself once again. He looked everyone in the chamber in the eyes for a long moment, his steely gaze fierce and impassioned. He stroked his fingers through his salt and pepper beard, narrowing his eyes as he looked around the chamber. “If this is the sad state to which the Jedi Order has fallen, then it ceases to function as the august body it was intended to be. It’s a body unworthy of the devotion and dedication expected towards it. It’s a body I no longer serve.”

Every Jedi in the room had gone tense, and Jenda even had to concentrate to keep from flinching in the face of Dooku’s outrage. They watched Dooku with the sort of uneasy expectation one watches a wild beast with, waiting to see if it will attack, or simply continue about its business.

Dooku whirled again and almost savagely took his lightsaber from his belt, causing every single person within the chamber to tense with anticipation. Yet, the blade never ignited. Instead, he simply held the cylinder up, looked at it a long moment, then nonchalantly tossed it into Mace Windu’s lap. “I hereby relinquish all title and status that I hold in the Jedi Order, and I resign from its ranks. You have my blade, Master Windu. You also have my resignation.”

The assembled watched in shocked silence as the former Master did these things and said these words. He shook his head again, scowling, “And to think I dedicated my entire life to such a banal and useless pursuit such as this. Cowards and liars, the lot of you.” Eyes followed him as he strode unhampered towards the door. At the door he paused and turned, smiling an ironic smile, and put his hands together and bowed, solemnly saying, “May the Force be with you.” The door then closed behind his retreating form, leaving the chamber in silence.

 

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Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Idrelle_Miocovani  8992 posts
Registered: Feb '05
50898_NaNo 13
Date Posted: 1/18/06 12:41pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Wow -- lovely descriptions here, Jedi_Linewalker! grin An excellent start to what is going to be an excellent fic! grin

 

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Nat is my new Muse. Yes, you may have one of those flowy Greek-robe things you say you can't spell. tongue
This Time Around: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/27062943/p1/?2
DarthIshtar's Padawan
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/18/06 12:45pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Thanks, Idrelle I appreciate it. I'm having to try to come back after a lot of bad and difficult things, so it may ramble a bit, but hopefully you'll ultimately enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

 

-----signature-----
Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/18/06 7:04pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
***Chapter 1***

Jenda sat in silence aboard the Republic ship, heading back to Coruscant, her eyes falling on her padawan again and again. He was calm, mischievous, his normal self, yet she sensed something amiss in him. Something was eating him alive from the inside out, and there was nothing in his thoughts that she could interpret as being indicative of what it may be.

He was talented, gifted, even, with the Force. That had never been in dispute. It was one of the reasons she chose him as her padawan five years earlier. The other Masters had detected much what she had, this gnawing, burning anger that threatened to bubble over at any moment, and as a result, had refused to take him for training. Jenda felt that with the proper training, and a caring Master, he could overcome his inner demons and make an exceptional Jedi.

Daran’s heart was pure. His intentions, his desires were those of good. He was a good young man, with hopes and dreams of doing the right things. He wanted to become a superlative Jedi someday, and make Jenda proud for her belief in him. These are the things she sensed within him. He’d always had the anger that Master Yoda had described, centering on the resentment he felt towards his parents, but this was something different. Something recently had magnified that original anger, and was pushing it hard towards the surface, like lava erupting from a volcano.

Her thoughts wandered, as they often had over the past three years or so, over what may have triggered all this, what was different in his routine and life from the other padawans that could cause such a reaction. Was there something he wasn’t telling her, and was hiding from her in his thoughts, something that happened, or was happening that made him feel this way? Was someone, an outsider, pushing him and goading him into such negative reactions? So many questions, and no answers to be had or found.

Daran stopped staring out the viewport, and turned his head towards his Master, raising his brows as he did so. “Is something wrong, Master? You seem…well, disturbed.” He shifted his position to more fully face Jenda, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. His eyes sought out hers as she continued to sit in silence.

Jenda regarded her padawan for the longest time in silence, not moving or speaking, barely blinking or breathing. Her eyes searched his, and she even reached out with the Force, just a little, in the hopes that maybe he’d let something float to the surface that would at least provide a clue as to what was wrong inside him. No such revelation was forthcoming, however, so she sighed softly, and shifted her position as well, curling her legs under her on the seat. “No…well, yes, actually. Daran…Daran, we need to talk about your behavior.”

Instantly, the mask slid into place. His mind closed itself completely, and his dark eyes burned with the same sort of fire she’d seen on the battlefield, and in other situations over the past few years. His face hardened somewhat, and his muscles tensed, but he didn’t lash out or react in any other way. His voice was quiet as he asked, “What about my behavior, Master? I’m just trying to be the Jedi I should be, the kind you want me to be.”

Jenda leaned forward and searched Daran’s eyes yet again, hoping against hope she could break through this unknown fugue that gripped him sometimes, and reason with him. Her gaze met his and held it without faltering, despite the fact that the inner light in them disturbed her. She would not back down, nor give any sort of clue as to her inner reactions. “Yes, you say that…” she trailed off, and held up a hand to stop him as he started to protest. She continued, “And I believe you believe it to be true. Daran, you’ve always been brash and adventurous, but lately, you’ve been getting worse, much worse.”

She got up and walked towards the small processor, and prepared them both some tea, heading back, and handing Daran his and sitting, sipping the tea a moment. Taking a breath, she resumed, “You’ve grown almost callous in your attitude towards people. You killed almost gleefully, as if it were a game, back on Kartola. You invite danger without need or reason. It’s almost like you’re trying to get killed, and get annoyed when it doesn’t happen, but there’s something else, something more to it than that.”

He abruptly stood up, the scowl deep on his face. His dark eyes glittered as he moved away from the seat, pacing, not leaving. “You don’t understand, Master,” he said, his voice pitched in a cajoling tone. “Jedi have been in your family for generations. There’s at least one in almost every generation. The Force touches your family, and they expect you to be gifted with it. In my family, it’s rare. Very few Lightriders have been gifted enough to become Jedi in the past few centuries.”

Jenda calmly listened, hoping that he was finally opening up. It certainly sounded like it. Daran kept pacing, and the cup was rattling in his hand as he did so. He continued his train of thought, “I know how most Jedi children are found. The family is visited by a Jedi, they talk with the family, and then eventually, the child is taken to the Temple to be trained.” He scowled deeper, and actually crushed the cup accidentally in his hand, causing a hot explosion of tea over his robes and tunic. He didn’t even seem to notice the pain he should have felt.

The Jedi Master immediately rose and took the shattered cup and saucer from him, and got a towel to help him clean up, but her brows were furrowed. “Jedi are special people, Daran. It’s a great honor to become a Jedi, and the Jedi are honored to have such good people to train and continue the Order. You are gifted, very gifted, with the Force. In many ways, your talent is superior to mine. You simply lack my experience and control, but you’ll learn, Daran. You’ll be Knighted soon, in the next few years, I’m sure. You’re nearly ready for the trials now…not quite, but nearly.” She finished drying his robe off and deposited the towel in a receptacle, coming back towards him, only to see his expression unchanged.

“That’s just it, Master,” he said, clenching his fists unconsciously and releasing as he talked. “No Jedi came to my family’s home. No one sensed my presence, or ability, and came inquiring. My family just decided to bring me to the Temple, to abandon me! I was just a baby…what could I have done that was so horrible that would make them not want me?”

His eyes didn’t release tears, but she could tell it wouldn’t take much to make them do so. She couldn’t understand this level of anger and resentment towards his parents for such a thing. It didn’t make sense, but then, emotions rarely did. Right now, he was radiating feelings of isolation that were almost staggering in power, a deep sadness mixed with a near hatred, but also the intense desire to simply be cared for and wanted.

Opening her arms, she took the young man into her embrace, and cradled his head against her shoulder. It was somewhat awkward, as he was a fair bit taller than she, but he surrendered to her maternal embrace all the same. Her right hand stroked the back of his hair while the left rubbed his back in circles. She was at a loss. Jedi had very little experience with such things, as a rule. She felt awkward, and out of her element, but she tried to soothe him as best she could. “Daran…I’m sure your family did want you, they just saw your incredible gift early, and wanted you to have the best possible chance to use it for the best. They loved you enough to let you go and become the great Jedi I know you will.”

Daran didn’t move, but his face did harden once again, his eyes burned with a fire that would have disturbed his Master if she could have seen them. “No, Master, they didn’t love me, they didn’t want me. But I am gifted, I will be a great Jedi, and I have you…one person that cares about me and believes in me. Someday, they’ll realize their loss. Someday, they’ll want me…and it’ll be too late.”

Jenda felt a slight chill run down her spine at his words. They weren’t overtly threatening, but his tone, and the oscillations of the Force coming from him spoke a very different tale than that of his words. She sat them both down, and she held him until he fell into a restless sleep. The whole time he slept, she brushed her fingers through his hair and tried to think of ways to turn him from this dark path he was headed towards, if he wasn’t careful.

*********

Daran grunted as he struggled to keep his grip on the cable his right hand was wrapped around. His left held onto Jenda’s upper arm and shoulder, keeping her securely draped over his shoulders, rather than letting her fall down the long shaft back into the underground weapons factory. Sweat poured off his skin, the rising heat from the thermal venting system far below felt like it was cooking him alive.

Far below, he could hear the footsteps of soldiers of the insurrectionist army searching for them. More and more systems had seceded from the Republic since Jenda’s and his mission on Kartola three years ago. The number of systems in secession had reached the thousands now. His hand slipped on the cable and he gripped tighter, swallowing, trying to focus himself as he’d been taught to all his life, calling on the Force to lend him aid.

He felt the Force moving through him and he channeled its power into increasing his strength just enough to keep his grip and keep moving. He was nearly exhausted, and the boost would help save both their lives. He could barely feel Jenda breathing. She’d been hurt, but good, by the explosion that leveled the antechamber of the hidden weapons factory, and had been nearly crushed beneath the rubble. He had to hurry, this he knew without doubt. If he was too slow, she’d die from internal bleeding and trauma.

Inch by agonizing inch, he climbed his way up the cable, using his legs and right hand to climb while keeping a firm hold on his Master. He was approaching some sort of opening in the shaft wall, and it appeared to be open. Could it be a dump chute to send refuse down into the incinerator and venting system below, perhaps? There was no way to be sure, but if it was big enough for them to get through, he was confident he could make it back to their ship and let the emergency medical droid see to Jenda’s wounds, and possibly even make it off planet before the separatists even knew they were still alive.

That’s a lot of if’s, Lightrider, he chided himself as he climbed inexorably towards the opening. Every strain, every grunt brought him closer to his goal. Master always did say I had trouble focusing my mind on what I needed to be doing, instead of somewhere else. I guess she was right, after all. Finally, he was parallel to the opening, which was barely lit by what appeared to be emergency lights of some sort. He reaffirmed his grip on Jenda, and then prepared to start thrusting his weight back and forth to give them swing to reach the opening.

“Hold it right there, Jedi,” said a voice, masculine, from the opening. Looking up, he saw armor much like what the Kartolans had worn, apparently the standard battle armor for the separatist armies, and a nasty looking heavy repeating blaster pointed at him. Alongside the one soldier was another, armored similarly, his weapon more relaxed, but plenty ready to lift and fire if he should resist. “You’ve got nowhere to go. Give up now, and we won’t have to kill you.”

Daran’s lips twisted into a grim smile. His cockiness and sarcastic nature wasn’t diminished, not even in his incredibly weakened physical state. He shook his head softly, fingers releasing Jenda’s arm, “I’m sorry, but I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request. That means ‘no.’ So, if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’ll be on my way instead of reducing your reach.”

The two soldiers immediately prepared to fire, but Daran had been ready. Before he’d even finished speaking, he’d released Jenda with his left hand and thrust it up towards them, sending an immense wave of power through the air towards them via the Force. The Force push shoved them backwards, but caused both of them to reflexively fire. Two blaster bolts sung loudly into the metallic shaft, bouncing off the shielded walls, barely missing both he and Jenda. One didn’t miss the cable, however, and it frayed, holding on only by a strand.

Daran growled softly at himself as he felt the cable fray and the strands start snapping, and nearly yelped when he felt Jenda’s weight shift suddenly and she started falling. “Oh, great!” he yelled at no one in particular, and immediately lanced his hand towards his Master, struggling to grab her before she fell beyond his reach. The two bolts continued to bounce around the shaft, and ironically eventually struck the two soldiers, who had returned to the opening. They also blasted the controls on the opening, sealing the door shut.

Daran’s hand grabbed tightly around Jenda’s right wrist, and her fall suddenly stopped. The shock and pain was enough to rouse her somewhat, and she groaned at the sudden jerk on her arm. Then suddenly, she was falling again, this time with Daran’s hand around her wrist, as the cable snapped. His yelp of surprise further shocked her into consciousness as they both free fell towards the incinerator and ventilator below.

Though she was awake, barely, she was still incredibly groggy and disoriented, and Daran knew this. Reaching to his belt with his right hand, he grabbed the hook of the ascension line on his belt and tossed it hard, carrying the thin, tensile cable with it, until it suddenly jerked, stopping their descent perhaps three levels above the incinerator. Sweat rolled off his face as they swung back and forth a few times.

“What in the name of the Force happened, Daran?” asked Jenda rather sullenly, obviously in a lot of pain, and none too happy for their predicament. Her shoulder was dislocated from the sudden jerk earlier, and in addition to her already quite critical wounds, she was feeling none too good.

Daran grunted, searching about frantically. Above them, he could hear soldiers yelling they’d found them, and the heat from the incinerator was maddening. Any second, they’d be surrounded by separatist soldiers, all with an eye to kill them both. Something had definitely gone wrong with the negotiations long before he and Jenda ever reached the planet.

Daran tried to shrug and grin, as he normally did, still concentrating on how they were going to get out of this one. “I’ll have to tell you later, Master. Right now, we’ve got more pressing concerns, like getting out of here in one piece.” Glancing back down, he finally saw what looked like some sort of utility hatchway, probably for a utility droid of some kind, because it was quite small. But, small or not, it did lead out of here, by way of the passage on the other side of the incinerator.

Jenda tried to reply to her padawan’s impromptu wit, but unconsciousness overtook her again, her body falling limp in Daran’s grasp. With a mighty grunt, Daran hauled her back onto his shoulders, and with a bit of tricky maneuvering, managed to land on the small outcropping unnoticed. Sliding Jenda off his shoulders, he began lowering her through the opening. “I apologize if this hurts, Master, but I’ve got precious little time for niceties,” he mumbled to himself more than her.

*********

Light filtered through her eyelids and still nearly blinded her. The light was white, and very bright, she could tell. Immediately, she jerked fully awake, and lunged upwards, only to be restrained by metallic hands. The medical droid on board the ship they’d brought with them, 7DX, was restraining her as gently as a droid can, keeping her on the table. “Please rest easy, Master Kasille. The surgery was a success.”

“Surgery?” repeated Jenda, frowning and then wincing in pain as her hand moved across her ribs and abdomen, causing an intense flare of pain. “What happened?” Her gaze moved across the bright white chamber on board the small ship, and she noticed her vision was blurry.

The droid, 7DX, turned from its task and regarded her a moment. Finally, it answered her, its soothing voice pleasant and calm, “Yes, surgery, Master Kasille. As for what happened, I can only tell you the medical end of it, but you suffered severe injury and trauma to the abdomen and head. Several of your lower ribs were shattered, and the force of the rubble that pinned you, as well as the blast itself lodged several of these fragments in your organs. I had to remove them, repair the bones, and seal your skin again. You’ll notice that your vision is blurry. That’s a result of a minor rear brain concussion. Your vision will clear in a couple of hours.”

Jenda nodded softly, paying little attention to the droid’s prattling beyond that point. She winced again as her hand brushed her abdomen, the tender flesh objecting harshly to the contact. “I’d be careful, if I were you, Master,” said Daran, stepping into the small medical bay. The droid moved out to tend to other affairs, leaving the two Jedi alone.

Jenda smiled weakly and turned towards her padawan, slowly and carefully. She regarded him warmly for a moment. “You are something else, my young padawan,” she said, laughing softly, and briefly, as the pain alerted her that laughing wasn’t a brilliant idea, either. “We go in to engage in peaceful negotiations, and hopefully secure some sort of friendly arrangement between the Maralkians and the Republic, but you think they’re up to something. They don’t seem to be, according to what I can feel and sense, and you insist. Suddenly, we’re attacked and running for our lives, then the explosion, then you’re holding onto my wrist in a dark shaft, then falling, and I wake up here. You were right, Daran. I’m sorry I didn’t listen sooner.”

Daran smiled lopsidedly, and sat on the edge of the bed, patting her hand with his own. “I’ve got good instincts, and good presence of mind. After all, I was taught by one of the best, wasn’t I?” They both laughed softly at that, Jenda shaking her head softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more attentive to your concerns and feelings, Master. I’m the student, you’re the teacher…I’m not supposed to give you such a hard time. I’m supposed to follow your lead, not take off in my own direction.”

Jenda smiled at her padawan softly, and reached up, and patted his cheek gently. “You’re much wiser and smarter than you give yourself credit for, Daran. What you did today was remarkable. Under extremely adverse circumstances, you kept your head and wits about you, and preserved life, as well as discovering important information vital to the security of the Republic. I’m very proud of you.” She brushed her fingers down the soft fuzz of beard on the young man’s face, not enough to actually call a beard, but thick enough to be seen and felt.

Daran veritably blushed, and looked down at the bed. “You really think so, Master?” he asked quietly, looking back up at her, his eyes filled with something she hadn’t seen in his eyes in a long time: something close to completion, and contentment.

“I know so,” she said with a smile, wincing slightly as she shifted her position to lay back on the bed once more. “In fact, I think you’re as ready for the trials as you’ll ever be. I think you’re ready to be a Knight, Daran. And after the Council hears my report, and sees the evidence for themselves, I’m sure they’ll agree with me.”

Daran’s face exploded in shock. He hadn’t been expecting to hear something like that. “Me, ready for the trials? A Knight?” he asked with a tone of incredulity. It wasn’t that he thought Jenda would lie to him, he simply was amazed she felt that way. He grinned and shook his head, at a loss for what to say. Finally, he simply grasped her hand gently, thumbs twined one about the other, and grew solemn, but happy. “I’ll be the best Jedi I can be. I’ll be the best Jedi since you were Knighted. I’ll make you proud of me, Master. I promise.”

Jenda smiled again and squeezed his hand back softly, nodding slowly. “I know you will, Daran, I know you will. You already have.” With that, her strength faltered, and she slipped into unconsciousness once more. Daran stayed and held her hand for hours while she slept, then finally left the medical bay, still happy about what she’d said, but the dark undertone waiting just below the surface bided its time to raise its head once more.

*********

It was with both joy and sadness that Jenda watched Daran receive the rank of Jedi Knight. Though he still had bouts of trouble with the darkness within him, he had made incredible strides, and true to his word, he’d done his best to make her proud of him, which he had. Even when he disappointed her, she was still proud of him, just as if he’d been her own son.

He walked towards her and bowed formally to her as the congregation of Jedi broke up around them. “Thank you, Master Kasille,” he said, his tone even and soft. In his hand, he held his padawan braid that’d been cut off during the ceremony. It was quite long, and a beautiful golden color. He held it out towards her. “I’d like you to have this, Master. A reminder of the times we shared, both good and bad…and hopefully of the progress that I made and will continue to make.”

Jenda took it, very surprised, her fingers curling around it gently as she looked it over. “But this is very important to you, Daran. It symbolizes everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve accomplished…” She was honored that he’d wish her to have it, but she felt he needed a focal point for when his heart and mind became too troubled.

Daran nodded at her words. “Yes, it is, its very important to me. I was talking to some of the others, and they all pretty much decided to give their braids to their parents.” He paused here, apparently still uncomfortable discussing that issue. Finally, he met her gaze again. “I’d like you to have mine. You’re the only true mother I’ve ever known.”

Unsure of what to say, she simply embraced him, slowly, gently, and was relieved to feel the tension in him slip away, slowly but surely. He was only twenty years old. Very young for a Jedi Knight, but possessed of exceptional skill, he had passed the trials. He wasn’t the first person of his age to do so, and she doubted he’d be the last. Her only hope was that he could conquer whatever it was that ate at him so from within.

*********

Twelve year old Ami Loran was sitting in the gardens of the Temple when Master Galana, a wizened and gray headed Jedi Master, came out to where she sat, a kindly expression on her face. Near her were several other padawans, all of them having been passed over for selection by a Master to train. They all held bags, similar to the one at Ami’s feet, and seemed to be waiting on Master Galana.

The old Master sat down on the bench with her and rubbed her shoulder lightly. “It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, Ami,” she said softly. “Simply that no Master saw anything in you that they felt they would be comfortable working with. The Agricultural Corps is an honorable and decent part of the Temple. You’ll still be doing the Republic and the Order a great service.”

A tear fell from Ami’s eye. She knew that what Master Galana said was true, but it still felt like rejection. She’d met two or three Masters that were very friendly, and even seemed interested in training her. The only problem was that they already had padawans, and couldn’t take on another until the first had been Knighted. She’d had such high hopes of the Force being on her side, and letting one of them be free to take a padawan before they would send her away, like they were doing today.

She wiped the tear away with the heel of her hand and nodded. “I know, Master Galana. I…it just still feels like I’m unwanted. My parents are dead, I have no family, and now, I’m leaving the Temple.” She tried very hard not to allow a second tear to fall, but it was a battle she wasn’t quite winning. She looked up at the old Master, who was standing up, and stepping back a step, regarding her. She knew she was about to be told to gather her belongings, because the transport was ready to leave.

“No you’re not,” said a feminine voice behind Ami, and a pair of feminine hands came to rest on her shoulders. Hoping against hope, she turned enough to look up at the face of the Jedi behind her. Her shock was intense when she saw the face of the Jedi. Jenda Kasille smiled lightly down at her and then looked up, surveying all the assembled Jedi around them. “I’m taking Ami Loran as my padawan learner, effective immediately.” She brushed the underside of Ami’s chin lightly, and winked down at her. “You don’t get to escape us quite so easily.”

Master Galana smiled at Jenda and nodded towards Ami. “She’ll do well. Her talent with the Force is prodigious. Many Masters felt incapable of dealing with it, and its strength.” The wind blew lightly through her gray hair as the wind washed across the cityscape of the immense worldwide city.

Jenda nodded and rubbed Ami’s shoulder a second, before tapping her shoulder and nodding towards her bag. “I know many felt that way, and it’s a shame. Ami’s gift is one that’ll grow if nurtured correctly. I, however, don’t feel myself unequal to the challenge. Rather, I think it’ll be a good learning experience for us both.”

“I’ve no doubts, Master Kasille,” said Master Galana softly, with a half smile. “The Force brings together that which it requires…as is evidenced here.” Without another word, she waved her charges onward, and took them around the Temple towards the ship, leaving Jenda and Ami alone.

By this time, Ami had picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, and was looking up at Jenda with a curious and awestruck gaze. “Master,” she said softly, fidgeting in place. “Many have said my talent was too strong and too unpredictable to channel and train properly. They said I was dangerous. You still have time to put me on the ship, if you’d rather not risk it.”

Jenda knelt down enough that they were eye to eye, which admittedly wasn’t that deep a kneel. She took Ami’s shoulders in her hands and squeezed them gently, looking her in the eyes for emphasis. “Ami, I’ve watched you a long time. My padawan, Daran, was recently Knighted. I’m prepared to take another. I chose you. I think that in teaching you how to handle and control your gift, I can learn how to better use my own, with your help. Then, together, we can make a difference for the galaxy.”

She then stood and winked at Ami again, her hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Come on, I’m sure you’re hungry…and this Temple food can become boring. I know a place not far off in the city…let’s go there.” She watched the girl’s face for a long moment as all this sank into her mind.

Ami was numb with excitement, so numb she couldn’t move or speak for several seconds. In all her wildest dreams, she’d never dared hope for something like this to happen. She finally managed to stumble over a please and thank you to Jenda, and obediently followed along with her. She’d always felt something special about Master Kasille, and she had to admit, she was the Master than Ami always hoped would select her. There was some sort of bond that had already formed between them. She didn’t understand it, but she was grateful for it.

The place she spoke of was a rather seedy looking diner not far from the Temple, but the staff was quite pleasant, and the food was delicious. Amazingly, Jenda seemed interested in simply getting to know her better that first day, and let her get to know Jenda better as well. By the time the day was over and Ami was in bed, she had to pinch herself to make sure she hadn’t dreamed the entire day.

 

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Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/21/06 2:24pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Chapter 2

Count Dooku of Serreno, formerly a Jedi Master, strode through the darkness in the all but abandoned hangar bay of a factory halfway around the world from the Senate Complex and the Jedi Temple. Nearby, a few technicians and scientists toiled endlessly with some sort of complex design on the computers, but he paid them little attention. Instead, his thoughts traveled back to seven years prior, to not long after he’d stormed from the Jedi Council Chambers for the final time.

He’d gone to a darkened hangar, not unlike this one, after making arrangements to return to his home system of Serreno. The smell of the Temple was still strong in his memories, though he’d been departed of it for several weeks as he’d wrestled with his thoughts and feelings. His anger, and outrage, over the death of his former padawan, Qui Gon Jinn, and with the Jedi Council for having done nothing to deal with this had swept him up and away like a black torrent of water, washing him towards oblivion.

While there, he’d encountered a darkly robed and hooded figure that promised to teach him the power necessary to right these wrongs. He would teach Dooku the Dark Side of the Force, and with its power at his fingertips, he could right the wrongs that had been done, and restore true justice once more. Despite all his Jedi training, despite what his instincts may once have cried out, Dooku had agreed to become this Dark Lord’s apprentice, and had been faithfully so for the past seven years.

He hungered for the power and knowledge that came to him. Every tidbit fuelled the fire for that much more within him. His hate had begun to swallow him alive, like some great sea beast ingesting a hapless sailor and his ship. That hunger burned all the brighter and hotter now within him as he strode into the darkest recesses of the hangar, and up onto the catwalk some several meters above the floor level. Mists and darkness swirled about him slowly as he entered them without hesitation or fear.

Dooku paused and finally stopped for a moment, and his instinct was gratified by the raspy voice that emerged from the enshrouding darkness, a voice filled with venom and hatred, and that prickled the hairs on the back of one’s neck with the evil within it. “All is well, my apprentice?”

The older man turned and regarded the dark robed figure near him, narrowing his eyes slightly and tilting his head, nodding once, curtly. “It does, Master Sidious.” He paused again, and contemplated the wisdom of his next words, but as soon as he’d had the compulsion to say them, he knew the Sith would have sensed the feeling, if not the words themselves, so he continued, “The young Jedi you’ve had me keep an eye on are most promising, young Lightrider in particular. I still don’t understand why you are so interested in them, especially with this boy you’re watching personally.”

Sidious’ hands clasped together and he laughed softly, moving to the railing of the catwalk, staring down at the assembled team of technicians and scientists doing his bidding far below. He didn’t look at Dooku, but the former Jedi felt his eyes on him all the same. “Lord Tyranus, you and I won’t live forever. We’ve got some time, mind you, quite some time…but we’re not immortal. It is wise to find those Jedi willing to stride the Dark Path, or that are already progressing along it, and cultivating them as quickly as possible to ensure the Sith legacy.”

“But what about the Rule of Two, Master?” asked Dooku quietly, his gaze also moving down at the organized mayhem below. “The Laws of the Sith say there can only be one Master and one Apprentice at any given time. You have your apprentice.” His jaw hardened a bit as he spoke, a tinge of bitterness washing through his tone.

Sidious was absolutely silent for several moments, then slowly turned towards the older man, his eyes glowing a garish yellow and red in the dark recesses of his hood, and in a voice filled with quiet venom, hissed, “Do not seek to lecture me on the Laws, my apprentice. I am the Master. I know what I’m doing. Everything has its purpose and place…and yours is not to question me. Am I clear, Darth Tyranus?”

Dooku’s jaw flexed and tensed several times, but he said nothing. Sidious laughed softly and clasped his hands together once more, then reached up and put his hand on Dooku’s shoulder. “Rest easy, my friend. Skywalker, Lightrider, and the others are far too young to make effective Sith as yet. Let them walk the path of the Dark Jedi for a time. When their time comes, we all will benefit from it.”

The Sith Lord turned and surveyed the men and women below once more, continuing, “That was Darth Maul’s problem, he was too young, too eager, to quick to let his emotions overrun his mind. He was a brilliant fighter and killer, but lacked the discipline to temper his ferocity with wisdom. In you, that mistake has not been made, my friend.”

Dooku simply nodded and listened to the dark robed Sith Lord as he continued to speak of lesser matters. His thoughts, carefully shielded, dwelt on what purpose keeping tabs on all these much younger men and women could possibly entail, and what it would mean for him, in the end.

*********

Jenda watched as Ami slid across the path on her backside once again, the blade of her practice lightsaber glowing softly in the sunlight as she fought to regain her feet. Jenda, in contrast, stood ready and relaxed, the golden blade of her practice saber humming softly, with her lips slightly curling in a soft smile. “That was better, Ami, but you’re still putting too much thought and not enough focus into it. See the strike land, feel it land, don’t think about it landing.”

Ami quickly regained her feet, dusting her backside off from where she’d ignominiously been tossed across the garden path by the skill of her Master. With the back of her arm, she wiped sweat off her brow, and reasserted her grip on the hilt of her saber. After six long, and wonderful, years of training with Jenda, she still couldn’t penetrate the Master’s defenses, unless Jenda allowed her to. She was starting to come close, however, as Jenda always told her.

Setting her feet back in a comfortable position again, she brought her blade up and said, “I’m trying, Master. It seems like the more I concentrate, the easier you beat me.” She suddenly lunged forward, striking at Jenda’s shoulder, only to be deflected and parried, then reversed and tapped across the hip and then the shoulder, sending tingling shocks through Ami’s body.

Jenda circled slowly, her lightly glowing blade humming softly still, the slight smile still on her lips. “Concentration and focus aren’t necessarily the same thing, Ami,” said Jenda softly, deflecting a fresh attack from her apprentice, sending her rushing past as she lightly sidestepped and took up a ready stance again. “You’re concentrating on the thought, rather than opening yourself to the Force. Let go your conscious self, stretch out with your feelings.”

Ami collected herself after being brushed aside almost effortlessly, and drew her weapon back up, striking hard at Jenda’s neck and abdomen as she rushed forward, trying to focus and channel the Force through herself as best she could. Her blade nearly made contact both times, only narrowly being averted by Jenda’s blade, which gave her a flicker of hope. That brief instant was all it took, however, for Jenda to parry, whirl and bring her blade across Ami’s abdomen in a solid strike, which would have cut her in two were they using live blades.

Jenda paused in the follow through of her strike and waited a second, then extinguished the practice blade. Ami, taking her lead, followed suit. The Coruscant sun was beaming down hotly on them, and Ami was soaked in sweat, while Jenda seemed to be barely sweating at all. The Jedi Master was shaking her head softly, as they sat. “Ami,” she began, “you’re trying too hard. That’s always been your problem. Let go. It’s really very simple. You have nothing to prove to anyone. Stop trying and just do.”

The young girl frowned softly and sat down, brushing the perspiration from her forehead yet again, weighing the cylindrical handle of the practice lightsaber in her hand thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m trying to do as you tell me. I guess I just feel like I do have something to prove. No one wanted me until you took me to train.” She pushed her hair back from her face, which had several wild strands that had come free from the tie holding it back.

Jenda’s deep and wise brown eyes softened and she turned more towards her padawan, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me,” she said softly, waiting until Ami looked up before continuing. “You were never unwanted. You have a gift, like all Jedi do, it’s just that your gift is a bit stronger and more erratic than most. Your ability to channel and use the Force is remarkable, especially for one your age. That means you have to be trained with the greatest of care. Caution can sometimes seem like fear, or dislike. It’s not.”

Ami nodded and fell silent. She could sense something bothering her Master deep inside, but she couldn’t glean any details of it. She did know that it was an extreme sadness, though. She wanted badly to ask her what was wrong, and if she could help, but she didn’t want to overstep her place, or offend. Instead, she sat in silence with her Master, looking out across the garden without a sound.

Jenda sighed softly and reached up, brushing some grass from Ami’s robe at her shoulder, shaking her head. “The separatists are growing more and more bold and insistent, Ami. They tried to assassinate Senator Amidala of Naboo again a week or so ago, and more and more targets seem to be falling in their sights all the time. You need to be focused and in control of yourself. We’ll be dealing with them yet again, soon enough, I fear.”

Ami recalled the news of how Senator Amidala’s ship had blown up on the landing platform, claiming the life of several of her people, including one of her handmaidens, a close friend to her. She also knew that Senator Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi, had disappeared not long after that, at the same time. Presumably together, as Ami figured Anakin was probably given the task of protecting her. Even the Jedi Temple had gossip, and Ami had heard quite a few things as a result over her time there.

She nodded again and shifted her position, folding her hands in her lap, and looked up at her Master. “I’ll be ready, Master. I promise you, I won’t fail or disappoint you.” As she spoke, her eyes glittered, and she felt an incredible heaving feeling in her chest. She loved her Master like a mother. She’d never known her real mother, her parents had died when she was very young. She wouldn’t disappoint her, not if she could help it.

“I know you won’t, Ami,” said Jenda with a smile, letting her eyes rove over her padawan’s face for a moment. “You’ll do well, and you’ll become a great Knight, and Master, in time, my young padawan.” Many were the visions Jenda had had concerning her young charge. They came in such strength and frequency, Jenda was sure they couldn’t be wrong.

A soft rustling of the grass caught both their attentions, and they turned, as one, to see Kosan Mendes coming towards them, his bronzed face grim. He stopped a few feet short of them and nodded to each of them. When he spoke, his deep and resonant voice rumbled softly through the silence, “You and Ami need to prepare, Jenda. We’re being dispatched.”

A frown coming over Jenda’s delicate features, she turned her brown gaze on her friend and fellow Master, and she asked, “Dispatched? What’s happened?” This was unusual, but it could mean a number of things. It was only a matter of time, she knew, before the separatists made their next move, or something equally as pressing took the attention of the Jedi Order. She could only guess at what this may be.

The man frowned a bit deeper and fidgeted with his robe and belt a bit, as if making sure they were in preparedness for battle before finally answering, “Master Kenobi has disappeared. His padawan has broadcast a message relayed to him to the Temple. It seems that something is afoul on Geonosis, and we’re going in to set it right. It looks like the separatists are building up massive armies for war.”

Jenda closed her eyes and whispered softly, “Then the time has come, eh, my old friend? Then we’ll be prepared. It won’t take long.” She sighed again, and shook her head. Ami had had dreams the past few days of a huge battle with many Jedi on a desolate world. In those dreams, many Jedi had died. It seemed as if Ami’s dreams were right, as usual. Geonosis was as desolate as they came.

“I’ll alert Master Windu, then,” replied Kosan, folding his hands into his sleeves once more. He paused for a long moment, and then looked back and forth between the both of them. “Once we’re there, be careful…both of you. This doesn’t bode well for anyone, and I’d rather not see anything happen to either of you. May the Force be with you.” With that, he turned and walked away.

“May the Force be with you,” said Jenda quietly as Kosan left. Ami sat in silence, saying nothing, and she looked her over for a long moment. Finally, she stood and beckoned Ami with a hand. “Come on,” she said, “we’ve got preparations to make. Stay close to me, Ami, and be mindful. Remember, your focus determines your reality. This is going to be messy.”

Ami swallowed and followed her Master into the Temple and back to her chambers. As she gathered what few things she would need, what few things she actually had, her own mind drifted to the dreams she’d told her Master of, about the huge battle on the barren world. Face after face flashed through her mind, in life and death. With a shudder, she pushed them from her thoughts as hard as she could. Finally, when she had a handle on herself, she went back out and rejoined Jenda as they headed for the ship that would carry them to Fate’s doorstep.

 

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Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Idrelle_Miocovani  8992 posts
Registered: Feb '05
50898_NaNo 13
Date Posted: 1/21/06 2:28pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Sorry, I missed chapter 1. sad

“That was Darth Maul’s problem, he was too young, too eager, to quick to let his emotions overrun his mind. He was a brilliant fighter and killer, but lacked the discipline to temper his ferocity with wisdom. In you, that mistake has not been made, my friend.”

That's a very good point. happy I really did like the Dooku and Sidious scene here, nice of them to show up, and I like your OCs, too!

 

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Nat is my new Muse. Yes, you may have one of those flowy Greek-robe things you say you can't spell. tongue
This Time Around: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/27062943/p1/?2
DarthIshtar's Padawan
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/21/06 2:43pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
I'm glad you're enjoying, Idrelle and glad to have you coming along for the ride *smiles*

 

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Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/23/06 2:39am Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Chapter 3

Below the ship, the rocky and sandy surface of Geonosis sped by in a blur. Ami’s eyes tracked over the surface as best they could, but few things could be distinguished at this speed. However, despite the warm temperature of the planet around them, she felt a chill run down her spine. This was the planet in her dreams, she was sure of it. Here, she’d witnessed many deaths of those she knew and those she didn’t. All were Jedi.

She could feel Jenda’s eyes on her, watching her, wondering about her. Her Master’s concern was so strong she could almost hear the older woman’s thoughts shouting at her. She refused to show her fear to her Master’s eyes, refused to look weak in front of Jenda. Jenda, and the others, were counting on her. She had to be strong, brave, and had to do that which she’d trained all her life to do: keep the peace, and defend the Republic. She’d promised Jenda she wouldn’t fail or disappoint her. She was determined that she wouldn’t do this, but instead make her proud.

The ship slowed and started downwards towards the surface. The young Jedi padawan could feel her heart leap into her throat, and her stomach churned in anticipation. The moment of truth was near at hand. The rest of the Jedi on the ship were shuffling about, getting prepared to do battle, as they knew they would have to, as soon as they set down. As one would expect in a ship full of Jedi, they were incredibly calm, and focused, even the padawans. Mettle would be shown here today, Ami thought as she stood with the others.

The bald pate of Master Mace Windu was visible over the heads of the Jedi crowded around her as the ship finally set down and powered down. His fierce gaze swept slowly across the occupants of the ship, and she imagined that at least one senior Master was doing much the same on the other Jedi ships that had come to this barren world. She tensed for a moment as she realized he was looking at her, almost looking through her, it felt. She couldn’t imagine what he may be seeing as he looked, but soon that thought pushed aside.

Master Windu circled in place, and looked all the Jedi on the ship over for a moment, and then finally turned where he’d be best heard. “We’re heading into unknown circumstances. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi disappeared here, and nothing further has been heard from his padawan, Anakin Skywalker. As you can see, there is an unusually large concentration of Trade Federation and Commerce Guild ships on the planet.”

He paused and looked around the ship’s confines again, his intense eyes meeting the eyes of every Jedi he passed. His hands came to rest at his sides, not in defeat, but in assertion. “We can only assume that the separatists, with the aid of the Trade Federation and Commerce Guild, and other parties we know to be on planet, are preparing to go to war…war with the Republic. We cannot allow that.”

A slight stirring was rippling through the group of Jedi aboard the vessel. Master Windu’s words were ringing true, and they all knew and realized what that meant. The dark skinned Master swung his gaze about a moment, then continued, “We are not soldiers, but keepers of the peace. If we don’t stop here, today, what they’re trying to do, there won’t be any peace to keep. Our objectives are simple: find Obi-Wan, and free him, if he still lives…and shut down this war machine before it gets started. Those responsible for this will go to trial before the Senate. Fight well, and fight for peace.”

The Haruun Kal Jedi slowly turned and regarded each Jedi aboard the ship with a solemn gaze, finally ending back up on Jenda and Ami. Behind him, the ramp for egress lowered and the Jedi were starting to file down its length. Mace looked at Ami for a moment, then up at Jenda. “This battle will be hard,” he said quietly, regarding his former padawan with a stern, but affectionate, gaze. “Keep your padawan close to you. We don’t want anything unnecessary happening out here today. I sense a great disturbance in the Force. There’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Jenda nodded softly at her former Master’s words, and she laid a hand on Ami’s shoulder, a maternal grip. “I will, Mace. Ami here is quite gifted. She sensed this disturbance weeks ago, and even described the planet. The Force is strong with her.” There was an unmistakable sound of pride in Jenda’s voice as she spoke of her padawan, and Ami blushed slightly as a result.

Mace regarded the padawan again with a discerning gaze, simply having nodded at Jenda’s assertion, then he smiled lightly and nodded at the girl, looking back at Jenda. “I remember the strength of her in the Force. Even as a small child, she had an uncanny gift with the Sense aspect of the Force. I’m pleased she’s being trained by someone I feel I can trust to teach her well.”

He then turned his attention fully to Ami and laid a hand on her other shoulder, and nodded towards Jenda. “Follow Jenda’s lead, Ami. Let go, and let the Force guide you. The Force, and Jenda, won’t steer you wrong. Follow them, and you’ll be fine.” He squeezed her shoulder just a bit, which startled the young girl because it was totally unexpected.

The padawan swallowed, and nodded softly. “Yes, Master Windu, I will.” There was so much more she wished to say, but didn’t know how, and she knew that now was not the appropriate time. She would follow Jenda into the jaws of death and beyond, and she hoped that the senior Master knew that.

“You’ve never had to fight on this scale before, Ami,” he continued softly, still looking at her with that piercing gaze of his. “Be calm, be at peace. Don’t let anything keep you from doing that which you must, but don’t let anything push you into doing that which you must not. Do you understand?” He took his hand down, leaving a tingling spot on the young girl’s shoulder as he did. His gaze bored into hers without flinching or wavering.

“I do, Master Windu,” she replied, her voice firm, but soft. Her soft brown eyes looked up, searching his face, surprised at the softness she saw there. He was so well known for being so stern and hard it surprised her immensely to see the depth of compassion she saw in his eyes.

Mace smiled lightly, briefly, and turned, heading for the ramp. At its apex, he paused, and glanced back at them. “Good. Then come on. We’ve got a war to stop.” With that, he went down the ramp, out of sight.

Jenda looked over at Ami, a light smile on her face, and once more, she gripped the young girl’s shoulder. Without a word, she walked towards the ramp, Ami close behind, and together, they descended from the safety of the ship into the uncertainty of the unknown.

*********

The surface of Geonosis was hot, desert like, and not very comfortable. She remembered from her dreams, and from information she’d looked up in the Jedi Archives that the Geonosians were insectoid creatures, much like sentient locusts. That made them better suited for the heat, and the desolation of the planet, but it didn’t do much for her and the majority of the Jedi she was with.

All around her, Jedi moved silently, heading for the large embattlements of the structure that resembled an arena more than anything. The large concentration of bodies there, and the noise, lent credence to the idea that some sort of major event was taking place there. With Jenda, she scaled the wall, coming over the edge of the wall, and to a small catwalk of sorts, made of stone.

There, far below her, was exactly what she imagined, and what she’d seen in her dreams, namely an arena, filled with thousands of insectoid Geonosians, and three large stone columns. Chained to the three columns were what appeared to be three humanoid beings, and beyond them, three ferocious predator/killers, prodded into the arena by Geonosian guards. On an outcropping, a VIP box of some sort, stood several beings, among them several humans, one dressed in some sort of armor.

Above the din of the struggle going on in the arena itself, the characteristic snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting was audible. Out of the corner of her eye, Ami could see the distinctive purple blade of Mace’s lightsaber, ignited, hovering just under the chin of the man in the armor. He was speaking, apparently, to the white haired human in dark finery that stood there as well, near two Neimoidians, obviously from the Trade Federation.

Jenda’s hand rested on her shoulder, a silent reassurance with a gentle squeeze. Ami’s fingers tightened and loosened around her lightsaber, which was already in her hand, prepared for the battle she knew was about to come. As if on cue, lightsabers suddenly sprang to life all around her, and she and her Master followed suit, igniting theirs as well. Ami took a deep breath, preparing herself for the chaos that was about to reign around her.

As if on an unspoken signal, the Jedi all started leaping from their perches down into the arena, lightsabers ignited, already deflecting shots from battle droids and Geonosian soldiers alike. With a quick swallow, Ami leapt into the air and floated down to the arena floor to join her Jedi brethren. Jenda was alongside her the entire way, and that reassured her somewhat.

Her feet hit the sandy pit of the arena, and instantly, her lightsaber sprang to life as a bolt from a battle droid’s blaster ricocheted towards her. The red bolt was deflected back off the blue blade of her lightsaber, sending a small shower of sparks to the ground as it did so. She whirled and swung the blade, taking the droid’s head from its shoulders with a clean cut. As the head tumbled to the sand, she instantly tumbled into a headlong roll to avoid the blast from another.

The acrid smell of burned hair, hers, reached her nostrils as she came up directly in front of the offending droid, pushing her blade through its chest, leaving a molten metallic ring on its chest surrounding the hole where once circuitry lay, the smell of burning wires and metal adding to the stench. The frayed ends of her hair where the blast had nearly struck her were a not so pleasant reminder to be careful.

Another droid tumbled past her as Bultar Swan, a small, dark haired Jedi Knight, kicked a foot high, sending it flying backwards and into Ami’s path. The older woman smiled briefly at Ami, and immediately whirled back into combat like a blue bladed dervish. Sparks flew from a couple more droids as Ami joined Bultar in downing them, sending their parts scattering across the sandy floor.

Ami’s blade slashed and whirled again and again, cutting down droid after droid, raising the sweat on her brow to high proportions. The sun was still high in the sky, and it reflected brightly off the sandy terrain around them, and nearly blinded the young Jedi. Suddenly sensing something heading her way, she whirled, and abruptly stopped her cut mid swing as the brown robed body of a fallen Jedi tumbled past her, a still burning hole blasted in the young man’s chest. His lifeless eyes stared up at her, and his silver hilted lightsaber rolled to her feet, extinguished, just like his life.

Emotions flooded over the padawan, like a flood held too long behind the wall of a makeshift dam. She struggled to control herself, able to feel rather than see the droid advancing on her, the muzzle of its blaster still glowing from the shot that felled her fellow Jedi. She’d seen this battle in her dreams many times, she had known what was coming, but seeing death, real and true death, before her eyes was still a shock to her mind and soul.

“Ami!” cried Jenda, flipping over three advancing droids, cutting them down with one long horizontal slash of her golden blade, and diving towards her padawan. She’d seen the girl hesitate out of the corner of her eye, and knew that could only mean trouble. She hit the ground rolling onto her shoulder and came up amidst two more droids, slicing up and then around, reducing them to junk in her wake. Again, she made it to her feet and resumed her mad dash across the sand.

The sound of the blaster clicking brought Ami out of her momentary shock. The droid was taking aim, walking towards her purposefully, taking its time. She spun her blade twice around her hand and dropped and pivoted, bringing the blade around in a wide arc, slicing the massive droid from mid thigh upwards to its shoulder, sending it dropping in two pieces to the sandy ground on either side of her. She didn’t even hear Jenda’s shout, her mind had gone numb with the reality of what was happening around her. Looking around, she saw the littered bodies of droids scattered thickly about, but she also saw the bodies of fallen Jedi. Her heart felt like it was going to explode, and her eyes threatened to pour at any moment from the sheer magnitude of carnage about her.

Jenda whirled and took down another droid, taking its legs out from under it, her golden blade slicing through the metal as easily as cutting through butter. The metallic behemoth fell to the ground with a resounding crash, and she turned, only to find herself face to face with a blaster bolt launched from another droid. Quickly, she leapt to the side, but not before the bolt landed a glancing blow over her bicep, leaving a nasty burn, and causing her hand to fly open involuntarily, releasing her lightsaber, sending it flying forward, behind the droid.

As Jenda was hitting the ground, the shock of the blaster bolt striking her making her momentarily numb, Ami sensed her Master in danger. Whirling in place, she saw the situation and her Master’s lightsaber flying through the air. Launching herself into a run, she reached out a hand, calling on the Force to bring the weapon to her other hand. It responded instantly, flying through the air like a guided missile, snapping into her palm, and igniting as she slid her thumb over the switch, the golden blade hissing to vibrant life.

Time seemed to stop as Ami ran, both blades blazing in her hands, towards the droid that stood over Jenda’s fallen body, taking aim, and preparing to blast her Master into oblivion. Ami leaped over the fallen bodies of a couple more droids taken down by her Jedi compatriots, instantly whirling the blades towards her center, cutting inward with each hand, cutting the droid down in a hissing sizzle of circuits and fire.

As the body toppled, she saw two more closing in, from each side, and she may be able to reach one, but not both. One would kill Jenda, or both of them, without doubt. Faster than a blinking eye, before she could even think, instinct kicked in. She whirled both blades around again and with a strong push behind each, launched both across the sand like javelins towards their targets.

The blue and golden lightsabers flew towards their targets with deadly accuracy. Each lodged deep in the upper chest region of both droids, severing their central processor lines, and reducing them to little more than formerly ambulatory junk. The padawan’s feet came to rest alongside her Master, and she made a quick cursory glance around, seeking more danger, the hilts of both lightsabers facing her in macabre salute.

On the ground below, Jenda was impressed with Ami’s battle prowess. Her apprentice was finally learning to let go and trust in the Force. Her eyes widened as she sensed danger and tried to spin on the ground in place, crying out, “Ami, look out!” However, the Geonosian soldier was already in the midst of striking, his long spear lancing towards the padawan with wicked precision. To make matters worse, another battle droid was sighting her for a blaster bolt. The young girl was in dire straits, to say the least and Jenda felt impotent in her position prone on the ground.

It would never be clear to Jenda exactly what happened. Perhaps the girl’s uncanny ability with the Sense aspect of the Force was in overdrive. Perhaps she heard her Master’s hurriedly shouted warning. Perhaps it was both. In either case, the girl spun towards the Geonosian and channeled the Force through herself into a punishing strike, sending the insectoid soldier flying backwards as if struck by a speeding landspeeder. In that same instant, she spun on her heel and held up her hand, closing her fingers and the battle droid crumpled in on itself, as if crushed by a massive, invisible fist.

As the droid, reduced to crushed junk, fell to the ground, Ami held out both her hands and the two lightsabers extinguished and flew back to her hands, where she neatly caught each with no effort. She reached down her hand with Jenda’s saber in it, and smiled lightly. “I think you dropped this, Master,” she said with only the faintest hint of irony. In that instant, she reminded Jenda of Daran.

Jenda reached up and took the lightsaber, then her padawan’s hand, and climbed to her feet. The battle raged around them, but for the moment, they were the locus of a storm, the calm in the eye of it all. Jenda’s dark eyes met the lighter amber ones of her padawan, and deep feelings were shared without a word spoken. Their bond was so great there was little need for actual verbalization.

The brief moment of sanctity was broken by the body of a Jedi female, dead, and already growing cold, falling nearly at their feet. Each whirled, sabers humming to life, and deflecting blaster bolts fired as if from a thousand droids, so thick was the blanket of fire. The two Jedi, one Master, one padawan, waded through the thick fire, cutting down droid after droid, sending each to an electronic oblivion as their blades found their marks.

As valiantly as they fought, the next few minutes proved to be nearly impossible to survive, but they did. They found themselves being hedged closer and closer to a group of Jedi that had been formed in the middle of the arena. The dust was thick, but the telltale beacons of lightsabers were no longer seen elsewhere, but in this small group.

Ami and Jenda took up a defensive circle with the rest, among them Mace, Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker, Senator Amidala, and perhaps eighteen other Jedi. Twenty Jedi, out of the hundred or so that came here. Force above, what a tragedy! thought Ami as she panted for breath, holding her lightsaber at the ready, her senses as attentive and alert as they could be under the circumstances. Now that the dust was settling some, with the droids finally ceasing their movement, the bodies of scores of Jedi could be seen laying on the ground, lifeless.

Obi-Wan was checking the pulse of a fallen Jedi at his feet as Ami and Jenda finally took a position in the circle. The droids entered what looked like a sort of standby mode, as if awaiting orders, but were still plenty at the ready if they thought the Jedi were going to resist. None of the Jedi, nor Senator Amidala, had dropped their weapons. It was beginning to look like a lopsided standoff. Jedi bodies were all around them.

A deep, resonant voice rang out over the arena, from the box. It was the white haired man in the dark finery. She vaguely recognized him as having been in the Temple at one time, perhaps even a Master, though she thought that impossible as he spoke, “Master Windu! You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the history archives of the Jedi Order. Now it is finished.” The man paused a moment, then continued, “Surrender, and your lives will be spared.”

The group of Jedi were all silent as the man spoke. Mace seemed almost angry, though he kept his calm and only shouted loudly enough to be heard in return, “We will not be hostages for you to barter with, Dooku!” The defiance in her former Master’s voice made Jenda smile slightly, despite the intense gravity of the situation they found themselves in.

The man in the box that Mace had called Dooku sighed in an almost exaggerated fashion, and shook his head softly. “Then, I’m sorry, old friend. You will have to be destroyed.” The droids all raised their weapons again, and every Jedi in the group tensed, prepared to fight as soon as the attack began. Dooku raised his hand to give the order, but Senator Amidala looked up with a suddenness.

“Look!” cried the Senator, her young face still looking skywards. Ami turned her attention upwards as well to see six large gunships descending overhead, coming to land in a cluster around the embattled Jedi. From each of these ships, white armored troops came spilling out like foam on the crests of waves, firing large blaster pistols and rifles into the ensemble of droids.

Droids and troops scattered as battle ensued once again, and Yoda appeared at the entrance to one of the ships, apparently giving orders to the troops. The exhausted Jedi made their way into different ships, thankful for the reprieve. The ships lifted into the air again as the battle was now much more even. The troops outnumbered the droids easily, and they were quickly driven back.

Jenda leaned against the wall as Ami tended to her wound, as the ship flew towards the forward command center, and from there, they’d be heading back to Coruscant, she knew. The padawan patched the wounds up with the kit, and readjusted the Master’s clothing. Jenda opened her eyes, and regarded Ami for a long moment. “You did very well today, Ami,” she said, her voice dragging with exhaustion. “I’m very proud of you…and thank you.”

The younger girl blushed lightly and busied herself with putting the kit away. “It’s nothing less than what you’d do for me…what you’ve done for me in the past, Master. Besides, I can’t very well let anything happen to you, can I?” She smiled lightly, and they both shared an exhausted laugh.

*********

From the window of Jenda’s chambers in the Temple, neither the Master nor her padawan could see the military staging area, and the assault ships being boarded and loaded, but they knew they were. Each felt a heavy sigh waiting to slip past their lips, but they held them in. They sat in silence and contemplated the coming sorrow and destruction that the Clone Wars would bring. Though not a word was said, each comforted the other, and as the last rays of sunlight fell behind the darkened horizon, each felt the cold chill of dread race through their body.

 

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Jedi Linewalker
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/23/06 6:04pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Chapter 4

Jenda strode through the halls of the Temple, on her way to the Council Chamber. The Clone War had been going on for two years now, and she’d been fighting in the Outer Rim Sieges, alongside Ami, longer than she cared to think about. Reinforcements had been sent, giving the two erstwhile Jedi a brief period to return home and rest, before returning to battle duty.

The halls, normally comforting and soothing, held an almost sinister quality to them today as the Master made her way back towards the central chamber where the Council met. The shadows seemed deeper, and darker. The entire Temple seemed overhung with a shroud of doom. The feeling was definitely disconcerting to the Jedi Master, and she repressed the urge to shiver.

The only sound audible in the Temple, to her ears, were the sounds of her boots lightly tapping the polished floor as she made her way. She turned a corner and ran into a dark robed figure. Drawing back instinctively to avoid a collision, she caught a glimpse of golden hair, and a russet beard. Instantly, her brows shot up and she inquired, “Daran?”

The figure stopped as well, and pulled the hood back slowly, indeed revealing the face of her former padawan. His smile still came easily, though his eyes also still smoldered with that darkness glittering in them that she never could fathom. He bowed slightly and smiled a bit wider as he looked into the face of his former Master. “Hello, Master,” he replied, his tone smooth and quiet. “It’s been quite some time.”

Jenda drew her cloak about her, feeling suddenly chilly, though she knew not why, and nodded. “Yes, it has,” she said, looking him over. “I wasn’t aware you’d returned to Coruscant. Last I heard, you were still out on Korriban, leading the fight there.” Her eyes traveled over his face, and he looked older than when she’d seen him last, though it had only been a couple of years since then. He was only twenty-six, but he may as well have been forty, for his appearance.

Daran smiled still, and nodded lightly. “I was on Korriban,” he replied, moving closer to the wall to allow easier passage for a passing Jedi coming through the hall. “They sent out another unit to give us a rest. I just got back in last night. How long have you been back, Master?”

“Ami and I arrived the day before yesterday,” Jenda replied, also moving to allow the Jedi to pass by without restriction. She folded her hands lightly inside her sleeves, suppressing the urge to shiver again. “We were on Chalacta, aiding the Chalactans against invading separatist armies.” She sighed softly and shook her head. “It seems General Grievous is a relentless commander. The fight at Chalacta has been long and hard.”

Her former padawan nodded, leaning back against the wall, in a casual position, folding his arms over his chest. “So has the fight at Korriban been. Grievous must be stopped, and then we can squash these separatist forces like the insects they are, and accomplish something worthwhile, instead of all these useless skirmishes.” His eyes blazed in the dim light of the hallway, and his face hardened considerably.

Jenda was surprised, and shocked, to hear Daran speaking this way. She’d always felt the festering anger boiling just below the surface in Daran, but she was hoping his being Knighted and having more autonomy had diminished some of that. Apparently not, she thought as she looked him over once again. She waited a few heartbeats and then said, “Keeping them from harming innocents, and keeping them at bay is something worthwhile, Daran. We are making a difference. It may be hard to see, sometimes, but we are.”

The younger man simply smiled and nodded, almost condescendingly, although that was an extreme extrapolation of the gesture. His glittering dark eyes met hers and he shrugged lightly. “I guess we all grow a bit bitter and despondent after being on the front lines for two years, Master. I suppose you’re right. Forgive me.” He hadn’t moved much from his position, but he still made Jenda’s flesh crawl with apprehension she didn’t understand.

The Master sighed softly, and adjusted her outer cloak again, drawing it surreptitiously about herself once more. “Where’s your padawan, Daran? I’m guessing the war is making it harder to train them. I know its definitely making it more difficult for me.” She was making small talk now, she knew, but she was at a loss for what else to do. Though she knew the man before her well, he felt like a stranger today before her.

Daran’s face hardened even further for a second, then finally softened again. He glanced downward for a moment, watching his black-gloved hands a bit, then lifted his gaze again. “He’s dead, Master. He died in a skirmish a couple of months ago. Separatist forces invaded the capital, and he got a little braver than he should have…and met the business end of a blaster.”

Silence fell between the two for a long time, each just standing there looking at the other. Finally, Jenda spoke, her voice soft, and her hand reached up to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “I’m so sorry, Daran,” she said softly. “I can only imagine how hard that must be for you.” Now, at least, some of the bitterness made sense, even though Jedi were trained to let go of such things, and function outside them. Even with that training, it was often easier said than done. They stood there for long moments, talking softly, but the growing darkness in Daran seemed to be getting deeper and darker to Jenda’s point of view.

*********

“So she saw the tragedy on Geonosis weeks before it happened, and now is seeing more and more things?” asked Kosan quietly, chewing on the bread he held in his hand thoughtfully, his eyes moving over Jenda’s face. They were sharing dinner in a quiet chamber of the Temple, deserted, except for the two of them. Most of the other Jedi still at the Temple were training or meditating, or occupied elsewhere.

Jenda nodded, taking a drink of her drink, settling back into her chair thoughtfully. “Yes,” she replied quietly, her eyes meeting those of her friend. “Ami’s very gifted with the Force, especially the Sense aspect. At times, her senses are uncanny…incredible. It’s no wonder so many Masters passed her up, deciding to train another. Her ability, her power…it’s daunting at times.” She took another bite of her main course, chewing slowly, deliberately.

Kosan smiled a bit, his bronzed face seeming slightly wider when he did. “Yet, you decided to take her as your padawan anyway.” His tone wasn’t recriminating, instead somewhat playful, though serious as well. He’d always wondered what possessed Jenda to take the young girl on. He’d never had first hand experience with her when she was awaiting apprenticeship, but he’d heard others speak of it.

The raven-haired Master regarded her friend for a moment with a gaze that seemed almost incredulous, as if he’d just said something she utterly couldn’t believe. She leaned forward, folding her hands together before her. “Yes, I did,” she stated matter of factly, her voice quiet, but intense all at once. “Her gift is far too powerful, and useful, to be wasted in the Agricultural Corp, Med Corps, or Exploration Corps, Kosan. She’s got far too much potential as a Jedi Knight, and Master, than to have been allowed to be relegated to that fate.”

The burnished skinned Jedi shook his head softly, chuckling lightly under his breath. “You misunderstand me, Jenda,” he said softly, leaning back and relaxing a bit in the chair. “I simply meant that you did what you always do: you find a case that seems like it’s hopeless, and then you champion it. Not only do you champion it, you’re usually right, and you prove it to everyone…just like what you’re doing now, with Ami.”

Jenda’s eyes narrowed slightly and her brows furrowed as he spoke. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes glittering with conviction. “Ami needed a Master, not a tutor on how to minister to plants. Ami will be a great Master someday, a true credit to the Jedi Order. Someone had to take that first step with her. It just happened to be me.”

Kosan held up his hand, a gesture of waiting, and when Jenda finally finished, he replied, “I’m not saying anything bad about her, Jenda. I’m actually very impressed with the girl. She’s got enormous potential and talent. You have a way of finding those that few others are willing to deal with, Jenda. You find them, and you take them on, and you turn them into the very best they can be. That, in and of itself, is a rare gift, even among Jedi.”

He chuckled again and chewed on a bit of fruit, holding the fleshy red pulp in his hand, and continued, “Master Windu has always said of all his padawans, you were the one of which he was most proud. You would go the extra distance to do the right thing, and to beat the odds, no matter how insurmountable they were. These are accomplishments that can, and do, humble any Jedi, Jenda.”

Jenda flushed slightly at Kosan’s words. She’d never heard Mace speak of her that way, but Kosan was no liar, like any Jedi worth their salt. He had no reason to lie to her, even if he was a liar. She regarded him in silence for a long moment, finally conceding to his statements. They spent the rest of the evening discussing Ami’s prodigious gifts with the Force, and Jenda couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride in her padawan as the conversation moved onward.

*********

Master Yoda sat on the round meditation cushion in the meditation hall of the Temple, eyes closed, feeling the Force around him. When he quieted his mind like this, he could feel each and every Jedi in the Temple around him, flowing and sparkling, within the embrace of the Force. His mind eased into the gentle caress of the Force’s presence around him, and he let go, letting his thoughts and troubles wander and mill about until the Force brought them together in a meaningful way.

The diminutive Master felt, rather than saw, the door slide open, and a presence enter the chamber. The presence seemed hesitant, almost shy in its approach, and this puzzled and fascinated him. It was long after dinnertime, so he knew few Jedi would be about. He preferred to meditate at this time due to the greater privacy it afforded.

He opened his eyes slowly to look upon the face of a young girl, perhaps eighteen years old, a face he recognized as Jenda Kasille’s padawan. His ears rocked back slowly and he tilted his head, his rough, gravelly voice softly penetrating the silence, “Come, child, sit. What, for you, can I do, hmm?”

Ami swallowed a bit and moved to sit on the cushion that Yoda indicated with a gnarled green hand. She folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. She remembered Master Yoda teaching her, and many other young students, when she was a child, but she hadn’t had opportunity to speak to him since. She felt awkward and tense, not because she feared him, but more in the sense that a child sits in awe of a grandparent that’s done something of incredible merit in their lifetime, and is virtually unknown to the child.

When she didn’t speak, Yoda shifted his position a bit more, picking up his walking stick and laying it across his lap, his small hands stroking the smooth wood lightly. “Come, Ami,” he said with a light smile. “To me, talk you can. Listen, I will. What, on your mind is it?”

Ami nervously looked up and into the Jedi Master’s eyes, swallowing again. She fidgeted with the edge of her robe as she sat and spoke, “Darkness, Master. I sense…I feel darkness.” She looked back down, feeling very chilled, though she knew the temperature of the room was quite comfortable.

Yoda scratched his chin thoughtfully and regarded her, his ears flicking slightly as he did so. “Darkness, you say?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch only slightly. “From where does this darkness come, of which you speak?” he inquired, studying the young girl intently. He, like most of the Temple, had heard of the girl’s amazing talents with the Force, and he was curious to see what she was feeling.

“I’m not sure,” answered Ami in a despondent voice. She felt silly, ridiculous, being here and talking about such things with Master Yoda. Yet, she’d felt compelled to come to him. “Something is wrong, very wrong…and whatever it is, it’s very close to us, Master. Something…someone…dark is very near, and soon, that darkness will engulf them entirely. I can feel it.”

Yoda’s ears pulled back and his eyes narrowed slightly. “What saying, are you? That to the Dark Side, one of us will fall?” he quietly asked, probing for more information on whatever it was that was plaguing the padawan. Unlike many Masters, he wouldn’t discount what a padawan said he or she felt, or saw. He knew better.

Ami seemed very disconcerted. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as if she were looking at something a long, long ways away from them, in another time and place. “I…I don’t know, Master, not for sure. I just know that something is wrong, very, very wrong. And that it will come to a head soon, very soon.”

The small, green Master fell silent for a long time. He, also, had felt something amiss lately, a darkness somewhat like what Ami was describing. Yet, his own premonition had been very vague, more vague than hers was, apparently. He studied her again for a long moment. Something seemed a bit off kilter. “To Jenda, harm you fear will come, yes?” he asked softly. The padawan’s concern was almost tangible, so strong was it.

The girl nodded softly, fidgeting even more, looking back down at her hands, at her fingers bunching up the edge of her robe. “Yes, Master,” she replied quietly. “I feel something dark and terrible coming, and it’s coming for my Master. Not just her…for many, but I feel it strongly for her, as well.” She got up and started pacing, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t wish to see harm come to anyone. Whatever this is, it has to be stopped.” She turned and regarded Yoda again, kneeling in front of the cushion, searching his eyes frantically. “Please, Master Yoda, help me…help me find the way to stop it before it’s too late.”

Yoda stared at the young girl for what seemed like an eternity to her, and finally shifted his position, and reached out and patted her forearm with a small, gnarled green hand. “Be at peace, Ami,” he said quietly, his ears drooping slightly. “Be calm. Help you, I will, all I can. Much wrong is there here, I feel. Hard to see, it is. The Dark Side clouds everything. But together, find it we will, and stop it, we will.”

*********

Ami left the meditation chamber somewhat appeased. She was relieved that Master Yoda believed her, and believed her visions. She paused outside Jenda’s door, contemplating ringing the chime, but heard voices still coming from within, and decided not to disturb her and her company. She hadn’t had much chance to socialize, and Ami wasn’t going to rob her of that. It could wait, she decided.

Instead, she went back to her own room, next door, and walked over to the window overlooking the Temple grounds, and the city all around them. Her brown eyes slowly traveled over the spires and lighted towers of the buildings of the city, wondering what the darkness she felt so strongly was, and how she was going to stop it before it hurt someone, especially Jenda.

After hours of contemplation and thinking, she grew exhausted. It felt like she hadn’t blinked in hours, her eyes were so very dry. She finally turned from the window and prepared for bed, climbing into its embracing warmth, and turning the lights off. Yet, sleep wouldn’t come for long, long hours as her mind continued to wrestle with the mysteries that ran unfettered through it.

 

-----signature-----
Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/25/06 3:58am Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
Chapter 5

Daran Lightrider watched the Mon Calamari opera as it moved into the climax. The performance chamber was filled with huge bubbles of water and air, and the sonorous drone of a bass voice echoed throughout the chamber. He shifted in his position, and glanced down and to his right, where the Supreme Chancellor sat, and another dark garbed figure came to kneel at his side.

Anakin Skywalker, thought Daran with a slight smile, drawing deeper into the shadows as the Chancellor’s attendants left, allowing the young Knight to sit. He extended his senses, but sensed no other Jedi with him. The boy was alone. That was good. He knew right about now, the Chancellor was exercising that uncanny perception he possessed, and was picking out the very things in Skywalker that would make him useful to the cause.

Soon, Skywalker will take his first steps as the Chancellor’s apprentice, thought Daran with a light smile, studying the young man intently from afar. Then, everything will begin to fall into place, and the galaxy will be in the right hands, finally, after millennia of being misplaced. Then the yoke of the Jedi can be cast off, and true freedom will return to the galaxy, and the Jedi…the Jedi will be destroyed, finally.

He continued to watch as the Chancellor played the young Jedi well, learning his innermost secrets and twisting them to his advantage. Daran was eager for the New Order that would soon descend upon the overly complacent Republic. Of all the changes that would come about, he longed for the destruction of the Jedi most of all. His parents abandoned him to their graces when he was but an infant, and he would see them all die horribly before he passed from this plane of existence. Most of all, he wanted to hear his former Master beg for her life before he extinguished it, personally. Feeling that all was well in hand, he leaned back to enjoy the performance, letting the Master ply his tricks.

*********

“Master! We’ve just received word that Master Kenobi has destroyed General Grievous!” exclaimed Ami, bursting into the room where Jenda was packing, preparing for their next leg of the campaign against the droid army leader. Her voice was filled with relief as she entered the room, trying to maintain a sense of calm despite her excitement.

Jenda turned and looked at her padawan, her eyes studying the twenty-year-old girl’s face. They’d not long returned from their second two-year stint in the Outer Rim when the Chancellor had been kidnapped by the droid general, having been recalled to assist in the effort to hem in the vicious terrorist once and for all. Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker had managed to rescue the Chancellor, with a minimum of fuss, thankfully. Now, as she was preparing to return to the Outer Rim, Ami was telling her that General Grievous had been defeated, and that they would no longer be going to the Outer Rim. Apparently, Master Kenobi’s foray to Utapau was successful.

“Then it’s over, then?” asked Jenda, still holding the robe, folded and neatly packed, in her hands. It seemed almost too good to believe. It felt like it’d been forever since there was peace in the galaxy. Count Dooku’s personal pain had caused the entire galaxy a lot of grief, it seemed, and she was pleased if it were finally over. She could hope, at the very least. Yet, Ami seemed to have a troubled expression, more troubled than would be normal, if the news she blurted were all. “What else is going on, Ami?”

The young girl swallowed and her gaze flickered over her Master’s face, as if she were unsure of how to present the information, or how it would be taken. “Yes, it’s over,” she nodded solemnly, stepping further into the room. “Master Windu and several others are on their way to the Chancellor’s office…to make sure he lays down the emergency powers given to him by the Senate, as agreed upon his acceptance.”

The Jedi Master nodded softly, knowingly, at her padawan’s words. She’d never trusted the Chancellor, though she was sworn to protect him, as she was the rest of the Republic. Something about the man had always struck her wrong, as if he hid far more than he revealed, and had an agenda far more sinister than what was overtly observable. “I see,” she replied, laying the robe down slowly. “We should remain alert…just in case. Something is wrong.”

Ami sighed audibly, a sigh of relief. Her face looked as if she’d just dropped an enormous weight off her shoulders. “I’m glad you sense it too, Master,” she said in a soft, anxious tone. “I sense great trouble…something terrible is about to happen, I fear.” She wrung her hands absently, unable to do anything else with them, so wound up was she.

Jenda nodded, and reached out, taking her shoulder as she kept walking. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s be ready, just in case. It could be nothing, or it could be everything. I’m not willing to gamble on which way it’ll go.” With her hand on Ami’s shoulder, together, they left the chamber.

*********

The chill ran down Jenda’s back and she whirled, just as Ami cried out, holding her head for a moment. They both felt it, something dark, terrible, and evil. Very close, and very strong, the sensations flooded the two Jedi. Night had fallen by now, and it had grown very dark outside. Still, Jenda chanced a glance out the window, to the grounds far below, and was shocked to see regiment after regiment of clone troopers advancing onto and into the Temple.

Muffled blaster fire could be heard from the lower levels, and much movement could be sensed all around them. The Temple was under attack! A sound outside Jenda’s door alerted the two Jedi and both drew their lightsabers, igniting them as the door opened.

As one, they drew back, prepared to fight, but held their blades as the face of Kosan Mendes, drawn in worry, confronted them. He waved their blades down and stepped in, hurriedly. “Come on!” he hissed, grabbing each of them by the arm. “We’ve got to get out of here. The troopers are attacking, and Skywalker is with them.” His grip was firm, and he was goading them towards the door.

“Skywalker?” asked Jenda incredulously. “What do you mean, he’s with them?” Her dark and wise eyes searched out the eyes of her friend, glancing back at her padawan briefly for a moment before returning her gaze to Kosan’s eyes.

The bronzed skinned Jedi grimaced and furrowed his brows, disliking this delay greatly, but seemed to know he’d go nowhere until he explained to Jenda’s satisfaction, to a point where she’d at least move while he explained further. “I mean that Anakin Skywalker is leading the attack against the Temple. We don’t stand a chance, not against the thousands of troopers he has with him. We’ve got to leave, now!”

Before Jenda could replay, Ami whirled on the Master and caught his gaze with her own. Her face was anguished, impassioned, and her eyes glittered with the light of concern. “But what about the others? We can’t just leave them!” she exclaimed, struggling a bit against his firm grip.

Kosan growled in frustration and stopped goading the two stubborn Jedi for a moment, and turned towards Ami, his voice a hissing whisper. “Skywalker and the troopers are killing every Jedi in sight down below, working their way up through the Temple. It’s a safe bet that if troopers haven’t turned on Jedi elsewhere in the galaxy, they soon will. The Chancellor is behind this, he must be. If we stay, there may not be any Jedi left to deal with this. If we leave now, we may have some small chance of doing something about it.”

Jenda raised her chin defiantly, her grip tightening on her lightsaber. “I won’t leave the others behind to die, Kosan. I’m no coward.” Her eyes flashed with conviction, and her jaw set firmly, a sign Kosan knew well, a sign that she was entrenching herself in her argument and would brook no opposition.

“No, you’re no coward, Jenda,” he replied urgently, pointing towards the wall, and the Temple beyond it. Audible screams of death and the thud of dying bodies, mixed in amongst the whines of blaster discharge, were easy to hear at this point, meaning the troopers were advancing quickly up the towers. “Dead Jedi can’t fight back. If we leave, we can regroup, learn as much as we can, and retaliate. If we stay, we’re dead. It’s that simple.”

The Jedi Master ground her teeth in thought, narrowing her eyes. Finally, she glanced at Ami. The poor girl was confused, and obviously scared. Her decision clicked then. Reaching over, she grabbed Ami’s shoulder. “Go with Kosan. Do as he says. I’ll join you as soon as I can.” She shook her head, frowning, as Ami opened her mouth, but she interrupted her. “I am coming. Do as I say, Ami. Please.”

Jenda’s conviction was so strong in her eyes that Ami couldn’t argue. Sighing in defeat, she nodded softly. “Yes, Master,” she replied, though it was obvious she didn’t like it. There was much she wanted to say, but the sounds of fighting grew ever closer. She knew there was no time.

Kosan knew that Jenda’s mind was made up, and there was no changing it. “I’ll take care of her,” he promised, and taking Ami’s arm, he led her towards the door and out it, running down the corridor and towards the speeder pad. Blaster fire erupted not long after their passing from the halls and doorways, but they were already gone.

Jenda stood in the hall, waiting. She watched Kosan and Ami go down the corridor until they were no longer visible, and the blaster fire erupted through a nearby door. The body of a Jedi, twisted and broken, landed and stayed still in the aftermath of the explosion, his eyes open and unblinking at the ceiling.

Summoning the Force to her, clearing her mind and entering the state called Battlemind, Jenda ignited her lightsaber and immediately began deflecting the blaster bolts headed her way. The white armored troopers shot at her again and again, only to be cut down by their own bolts, deflected back at them from the humming golden blade of the Jedi before them. Troopers fell under the returning onslaught, holes sizzling in their chests from where the bolts struck home.

Jenda whirled and spun her lightsaber, driving the energy bolts back, wading through the battle ever forward. Spinning, she cut down a trooper bearing a large repeating blaster rifle, cleaving him in two, his body falling to the Temple floor, dead. Dodging a blast by another trooper, she lashed out and cut again and again, dismembering another of the soldiers. More and more came to shoot at her, backing her down the staircase, but she was holding her own, without a doubt. Her lips pulled back in a grim smile as more and more soldiers fell under her blade, her strikes intended to be merciful and swift, minimizing their suffering as much as she could.

*********

The landing pad door opened as the two Jedi ran through it, heading for the small brace of speeders on the pad. Kosan looked each over frantically, glancing back every couple of seconds as the sounds of battle grew nearer and nearer to them, until he finally found a speeder with the keycard in place.

“Get in!” he yelled, sliding into the speeder’s seat. He started the speeder’s powerful motor, which hummed mightily in the closed in pad. Raising a hand, he willed the Force to push the door open, and it obeyed, sliding upwards according to his will. He strapped himself into the speeder’s seat, and revved the engine.

“What about Master?” cried Ami, leaping into the passenger seat of the speeder, and securing herself into it as well. Her face was fraught with worry, and she turned quickly to catch the expression on his face. “She said she’d join us!”

Kosan eased the throttle down and the speeder lifted, and then took off out the door without hesitation. He turned and faced the padawan as he maneuvered the speeder into a sharp banking turn. “And she will, Ami!” he cried over the sound of the wind whipping past them both. “If I know Jenda, she’s fighting her way for a landing or rampart even now.”

“But that’s crazy!” cried Ami, realizing what Kosan was saying. Even the lowest landing in the Temple was several stories above the garden level, which no Jedi could survive the fall if she was knocked or shot off the ledge. “There’s no way she’ll ever make it! She’ll be splattered all over the garden floor!”

Kosan actually laughed, a soft, quiet laugh, but a laugh all the same. “Trust in the Force, and your Master, Ami,” he said, speeding around in a quick jump forward. The speeder shrieked under the strain, but obeyed. “Jenda Kasille is a lot of things, but crazy isn’t one of them. She knows what she’s doing.”

Ami nodded, unable to speak. The wave of pain striking her was almost unbearable, and it threatened to knock her unconscious in its force. Many Jedi had died, and were dying, and she could feel all of it. She struggled to maintain her focus and composure, unable to succumb to the oblivion that threatened to engulf her at any moment. Reaching out, she was almost afraid to reach out too far, but she pushed herself and was instantly glad she did. Her Master was still alive! Yet, she knew that could change at any moment.

The speeder dipped and swerved, suddenly speeding even faster than it had been. The speed was reckless, almost suicidal in its daring and intensity. Some three levels above them, the wall suddenly exploded outward from concentrated blaster fire, and a body was among the debris. A brown robed body.

“Master!” cried Ami, raising a hand and reaching out, via the Force, to try to guide the body towards the speeder. The form of Master Jenda Kasille angled towards the speeder, twisting and tucking, trying for distance. As Ami tried her best to help guide her falling Master to them, Kosan maneuvered the speeder as close as he dared.

Blaster fire rang off the metallic surface of the speeder as he drove relentlessly closer, trying to get under the falling Jedi. A lucky shot blasted the door alongside Kosan, causing him to swerve, just as Jenda impacted with the speeder. Her abdomen landed across the wall of the speeder compartment, rather than in the seat, knocking the breath out of her.

Ami’s hand instantly snatched her by the wrist and held on, trying to keep a grip as Kosan zig zagged through the air, trying to put as much distance between them and the Temple as he could. Blaster fire rained down on them like a deadly summer storm, and the night was alive with the red glow of flying laser bolts.

The padawan growled in effort and pulled hard on the Master’s wrist, hauling her into the back seat of the speeder as they finally got out of range of the blasters. The older woman was almost unconscious, but her hand held the lightsaber firmly in her grip, refusing to let go.

The young girl unfastened her restraint and finished dragging Jenda into the back seat, and set about trying to help her as much as possible. Jenda’s eyes flickered open a bit and she smiled weakly. Her voice was strained, and soft, an almost inaudible whisper. “I told you I’d join you,” she quipped softly, pain evident in her voice. Ami couldn’t help but titter a nervous laugh, and impulsively hugged her Master, who slipped into unconsciousness, but refused to release her grip on her lightsaber.

Kosan guided the speeder through the tangled lanes of air traffic, heading for a safe place, at least temporarily safe, so they could continue their egress of the system. They were Jedi, considered renegades by the government at large now. Very few were the places they could run to. They would have to be careful, Ami knew. She concentrated on healing Jenda as much as she could, especially after seeing the two or three small blaster burns left on her cloak, showing that they’d gotten a lot closer than she’d liked for them to have gotten.

 

-----signature-----
Jedi Linewalker
Proudly Knighted by, and former Padawan of, Rhonderoo
For fics, see http://linewalker.0catch.com/fics.html
Or see my sock #1 Daran Lightrider http://boards.theforce.net/ASP/user.asp?usr=1324229
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Jedi_Linewalker  370 posts
Registered: May '05
23997_Anakin
Date Posted: 1/26/06 8:28pm Subject: RE: Dark Before the Dawn - PT, OCs, canon characters
This is three chapters, Chapters 6, 7, and 8


Chapter 6

The wind blew through the salt and pepper hair of the man standing on the landing platform, looking out across the immense city towards the burning Jedi Temple. His face hardened, and his eyes grew impassive. After staring for what seemed like forever, the form turned, and headed back towards the freighter that he owned, entering its ramp, and then into the ship itself, his thoughts in turmoil.

What in the name of the galaxy has happened? he thought, moving into the cockpit of the Corellian freighter, seating himself in the pilot’s seat and turning on the HoloNet, hoping for some sort of clue as to what was going on. The Jedi Temple is in flames…the Clone Wars rage on…this is madness in its purest form.

The HoloNet was strangely quiet on these events. Nothing but reruns of the week’s news and other inane tidbits of information could be found, no matter what frequency he tried. He scowled at the holo-projector in impotent anger, thumping his fist against the console lightly. In aggravation, he interrupted a Rodian salesman in mid pitch for a new landspeeder, clicking the projector off, then stood and paced in aggravated wariness.

He whirled as a chime sounded from his communication console, indicating an incoming transmission. Frowning, he settled back into his seat, and tapped the commands in to answer the communiqué. The holo-projector flickered and scrolled a bit, and the man knew this meant a scrambled transmission. Someone didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on this conversation, that was for sure.

He adjusted a couple of controls, and the bluish image finally resolved into the form of a Twi’lek female, dressed in the clothing of an entertainer, though the man knew better. The woman was one of the foremost in the line of underground information in this part of the galaxy. Her face was tense, and her eyes were charged with an energy the pilot hadn’t seen in them in a long time.

“Good evening, Sylla,” he said lightly, his slightly gravelly voice resonating over the channel in a good-natured way. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until next week. That next shipment isn’t due until…” He trailed off as her expression told him this was about something more pertinent than a paltry shipment of spice.

She scowled, her delicate features wrinkling slightly, the rich blue hue of her skin distorted by the holo projection. “This isn’t about the spice, Rylo,” she said curtly, her voice all business, though still silky and smooth. She watched him a moment, as his expressions went through several permutations, before continuing, “Things are going crazy. You could be in some serious danger.”

The man called Rylo snorted and nodded, glancing at the burning Temple again, out his viewport and back at the image of the Twi’lek. “You’re not kidding, things are going crazy. The Jedi Temple is on fire. Looks like a military attack, rather than an accident, to me. Has the Senate gone crazy?” Only the Senate had the power to order a military attack, and he couldn’t fathom why they’d authorize such a thing against the Jedi. “How do you figure I’m in danger?” he asked.

The Twi’lek writhed her lekku slowly, the head tails seeming to have a life all their own, for a long moment. “Because of your past associations, Rylo. Don’t make me spell it out for you. I don’t have the time, and I’m not sure this channel is entirely secure. Nothing is certain anymore, except that it isn’t the Senate that’s gone nuts…it’s the Chancellor.” She breathed a heavy breath, one of frustration and consternation.

Rylo blinked rapidly three times and stared at her. “The Chancellor?” he asked in amazement. “The Chancellor doesn’t have the authority to launch something like this, not without the majority in the Senate pushing for it.” His head was reeling, and he felt cold inside. Though he disputed her words, the cold, harsh grip of truth was taking him in its grasp.

“Where’ve you been, wampa tracking on Hoth?” she asked with not a small degree of venom, hissing out in her whispered question. “The Senate has granted Palpatine more and more emergency executive powers on an almost weekly basis, since this whole thing began. The recent kidnapping ploy of the separatists only made that escalate. Palpatine’s out for blood, any blood, from the looks of it.”

Rylo looked back towards the Temple with a grim expression, and shook his head, then looked back at Sylla. “Looks like he decided on Jedi blood. Is he nuts? The Jedi are part of what’s holding the Republic together in the middle of all this poodoo they call a war. Without them, all this…the war, the Republic, everything is going to crumble.”

“I don’t think he cares, Rylo,” replied Sylla, her lekku writhing madly now. “Word on the street is that he’s been after the Jedi since day one. Seems he keeps a closer connection to the darker side of the moon than one would think, if you know what I mean.” Her expression was neutral, unless you knew what to look for. Rylo was reading all sorts of implications in her somewhat innocuous statement.

He paled. “No,” he said softly. “That would mean…” He swallowed and again looked at the burning Temple. What Sylla was suggesting would certainly fall in line with what was going on, he had to admit. He simply couldn’t believe it. It was like a nightmare brought to life.

“But the Temple…the Jedi…the kids there!” he exclaimed, interrupting her before she could respond. “Someone’s got to do something! How the hell did he manage to just waltz a few battalions of troops into the Temple and start burning things down?” His voice was rising in pitch, incredulous. He couldn’t rationalize and fathom how this could be possible. The Jedi were all but invincible…weren’t they?

Sylla frowned and shook her head sadly. “It’s an inside job, Rylo,” she said quietly. “One of the Jedi is in Palpatine’s pocket. Poor sucker’s been manipulated all this time, and I doubt if he even knows it. You know what Palpatine’s kind are like.” She was punching a few buttons on a console out of the range of the projector. “Hold on a second,” she said. “Emergency signal coming through.”

That’s apt, thought Rylo bitterly, turning back towards the Temple again while he waited for Sylla to finish with the emergency. Sylla was one of the leading proponents of underground information and smuggling in the Core. If anything was going on, she knew about, or could find out easily enough, he knew. ”Emergency” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Finally, the Twi’lek looked up and fixed him with a gaze that brought his attention back to the holo. “You willing to stick your neck out for a few?” she asked quietly, the resignation in her voice so solid you could cut it with a vibroblade. She eyed her friend and fellow smuggler a moment, knowing well the thoughts that must be running through his mind. Rylo had a habit of being too noble for his own good, sometimes, she thought.

The freighter captain furrowed his brows at her and stared for a long moment, unsure of what to say. He was unsure of what she was getting at, and he knew the best way to find out was often to simply ask. “What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his tone quiet and neutral, despite the urge to yell at this point.

The Twi’lek smuggler coiled her head tentacles about her neck absently as she regarded her friend. “Bail Organa is organizing a movement to help the embattled Jedi. It’s a movement to help them reach safety, away from this madness. Are you in?” Her eyes sought his, boring into his eyes with a passion and intensity he couldn’t recall seeing in her before. “Without help, the Jedi will be extinct before morning, Rylo. All of them will be dead. You know that.”

Rylo contemplated this for a moment. Bail Organa was a leading Senator, and the Viceroy of Alderaan. He was a well-respected man, and leader, throughout the Republic. It was also pretty common knowledge he had more than a passing friendly association with the Jedi, at least, common knowledge in the right circles. He prayed the Chancellor didn’t know about his complicity with the Jedi at this point.

He sighed softly and gripped the console with both hands, leaning forward. “I’m in,” he said finally, looking more weary and tired than Sylla remembered him looking in a long, long time. “Just give me the details…”

*********

The room on the Tantive IV, Senator Organa’s personal ship, was small, and even somewhat chilly. He’d been welcomed aboard and even had been able to dock his freighter, the Galactic Sunbird, aboard her before coming to this meeting. A small number of other smugglers, and independent citizens, had been present for most of it, but that had broken up now. Now, it was just he and Senator Organa.

“Mr. Tanner, I can’t thank you enough,” Senator Organa said, shifting to his full height as he walked alongside Rylo towards the door. “The Jedi need us. We’ve depended on their assistance long enough. Now, it’s our turn to help them, before it’s too late.” The door opened and the two men exited out into the corridor.

Rylo glanced sidelong at Bail and frowned softly. “What makes you think any Jedi still on Coruscant are even still alive, Senator?” he asked quietly. “I saw the Temple. It was burning, decimated. The troopers really did a number on the place. I doubt anybody could have survived such a thing, not even a Jedi.” The sadness couldn’t be kept out of his voice as he spoke, garnering a thoughtful gaze from the Senator.

Bail nodded lightly, folding his hands as he walked. “Normally, I’d agree with you, Mr. Tanner. The Temple is a loss, there is no doubt of that. Many, many Jedi were killed there. We know this for a fact. Yet, there are some that I doubt would have fallen before that catastrophe. There are some whose power is simply too great.”

“Master Yoda,” said Rylo immediately, his expression growing harder again. He stroked his chin as they walked towards the docking bay, and his ship. “If any Jedi could have survived that mess, it’d have been him.” He knew enough about the diminutive and ancient Master to know this well.

Bail nodded, his sagely appearance growing haggard with the thought of so many dead. “Yes, indeed, Master Yoda,” he answered, pushing the control to open the docking bay door. “He survived, I’m sure of it. Hopefully, we can find him, along with whatever others are left, and discover exactly what’s going on. I don’t plan on letting any more Jedi walk into this catastrophe than already have.”

Rylo decided not to say too much on what he knew, and what he suspected, at that moment. He disliked dealing in conjecture rather than fact. Instead, he simply nodded, and replied, “Nor do I, Senator. The Jedi have done a lot of good for the galaxy over the millennia, and we can’t afford for them to go belly up like this. There’s simply too much at stake, for everyone. I’m in. You can count on me.”

Bail half smiled and handed him a small holo device. “Take this,” he said, nodding towards the device. “It contains all the details of the Sanctuary movement we’re setting up. Drop points, Sanctuary points, places to search for Jedi, and so on. We’ve got to find them and get them to safety. That will give you all the information you need. Your help is greatly appreciated, Mr. Tanner.” He smiled lightly again, and regarded Rylo for a second before adding, “May the Force be with you.”

Rylo took the device and curled his fingers around it. It was solid, real in his hand. He could feel his chest constricting, and his breathing quicken. He knew he was in for a rough time, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was doing that which he gave his word he’d do. “Thank you, Senator. I’ll do my best. May the Force be with you, too. May it be with us all.”

With that, Rylo entered the bay and went up the ramp to his ship. Flicking switches and controls, he began getting it ready to depart, his mind lost in a flurry of thoughts. When the ship finally exited the larger ship of Bail Organa, he set his course for the first pick up point listed in his manifest: Corellia. He eased the ship into its course and leaned back. This wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that already.


Chapter 7

The compartment was small, and dark. Normally, it would hold smuggled goods, things being covertly carried over legitimate trade routes by smugglers in souped up freighters. This time, however, the compartments held bodies, living bodies, three to be exact. They were cramped within the tiny compartment, literally laying and sitting atop one another, but there was no other way to do this. Dark times had fallen on the Republic. The Chancellor was apparently mad, and the Jedi were in disarray. This was the last hope they had.

Light suddenly pierced the darkness, and the three beings within the compartment blinked. The light was bright, after being closed up for so long. A hand, human, reached down into the compartment and waited to be taken. The male within the compartment looked at his two female companions, and nodded.

“Come on, come on, we have to hurry,” said a male voice in a hushed whisper. His silhouette definitely seemed in a rush, and was attempting to be cautious at the same time. He was an older man, by the looks of him, and from his movements, he’d seen quite a bit of athletic activity, such as dodging blaster bolts.

The younger female reached up and took hold of his hand, gripping it securely and he pulled her up onto the deck as quietly as he could. Her hair was a medium brown, and her eyes were an amber and brown mix. She was a striking young girl, perhaps twenty years old. The older man seemed surprised by her appearance. She was dressed in robe like tunic and pants, but more like the under robes Jedi wore, rather than the large hooded outer robes the Order typically were seen in.

Reaching his hand down again, the older female took hold of his hand and he repeated the same procedure he’d done with the younger lady. Once she was on deck, he noticed she was dressed similarly as well. Her hair was raven black, and her eyes were dark brown, but hauntingly wise. “Are you both alright?” he asked, looking both the women over.

The older woman glanced at the younger, and then down at the man climbing effortlessly out of the compartment without a sound. “We are,” she said quietly, looking the man over. Her eyes roved his face while her male companion stood up finally, also dressed in much the same manner as the two women. “Sanctuary?” asked the older woman with a slight tension in her voice and body, only noticeable to her companions. She was prepared if this was a trap.

“I grant you shelter,” replied the old man in the expected response to the code phrase. Jenda Kasille, Jedi Master, relaxed visibly. The old man ushered them off the ship, and out into the night. He looked cautiously around before leading them out, without looking like he was being cautious. The three Jedi followed him closely and quietly, being alert and staying on their toes.

Ami Loran, the younger female, whispered to Jenda as they moved down the ramp of the ship, getting a look around for the first time, her voice quiet and soft, “Where are we, Master?” She continued looking around, the surroundings unfamiliar to her, obviously, from her tone.

Jenda smiled lightly as they cleared the shadow of the freighter, and headed towards the street access. “We’re on Corellia,” she said, brushing her fingers through her long dark hair, which had gotten tangled in the cramped compartment. Her eyes swept over the starport pad, and then brushed past Kosan Mendes, Jedi Master, and one of her closest friends, to tap the older man on the shoulder. “Why are we going out into the thoroughfare? Wouldn’t it be safer to simply go through the starport gate junctions?”

The older man paused, and the Jedi almost bumped into him. He dropped his voice to a whisper, and leaned in close to them, “If any of those Clone Troopers are here, they’ll be expecting you to transfer from one pad to another, or drop in like what you just did. If you appear like you’re coming in off the street, they probably won’t give you a second glance, at least not at first.”

The male Jedi nodded in agreement with the older man’s words. His bronzed skin reflected little of the ambient light from the pad lights some meters away. “Makes sense,” he said quietly. “The more natural we appear, the less attention will be paid to us. Thankfully, our clothing isn’t that uncommon on most worlds in the Republic.” He adjusted his belt as he spoke, a nervous habit he had, Jenda knew.

They got out into the streets, which, even at this hour, had many people moving about, especially around the starport. It reminded the Jedi much of Coruscant. “Go to pad 39,” instructed the older man quietly. “Tell the clerk you need to speak to the captain of the Galactic Sunbird and book passage to Tanaab.” He stopped at a port repair bay, and waved them on. “I’ll ‘make arrangements’ with you there, in case the troopers are watching.”

As the older man was entering the bay, Ami tugged on Jenda’s sleeve and looked about, whispering urgently, “Master, I sense something…something very wrong.” The young girl was nervous, that was certain, and expected. Her eyes were earnest as she informed Jenda and Kosan of her suspicions, and the two Masters exchanged glances a moment.

Kosan nodded at Jenda, his solemn face even more serious. “I’m beginning to sense it too,” he whispered, flexing his fists slightly as they walked onward towards pad 39. He was surprised the padawan had picked up on the sensation so quickly, but then again, he and Jenda had had many conversations about Ami’s prodigious abilities with the Force. His breath quickened a bit for a moment, forcing himself to calm, assuming the mental state of Battlemind, his mind open and ready for combat, if things should go that way.

Jedi Master Kasille also sensed the impending danger that her padawan had just alerted them to. The girl’s senses were often uncanny, she had to admit, and that presence…it was a presence she knew well. Very well. “No,” she whispered sadly, shaking her head. “Of all that it could be, why you?” She already was reaching for her lightsaber, the cylindrical device hidden cleverly in her tunic, fingers closing around the cool hilt, a reassuring feeling.

Ami glanced between the two Masters with a look of confusion. She’d heard Jenda’s words, and wondered what in the galaxy she was talking about. Seeing her go for her lightsaber, she reached for her own, the instrument cool in her hand, but her hands felt clammy and sweaty all at once. This was no training exercise. This was for real, and it had real consequences and danger, she knew this well.

The mists around the starport seemed to fade slowly, and scant meters from them, there was a small unit of Clone Troopers, and a black garbed figure, hooded, walking their way amidst the troopers. Laughter came from the dark figure, and Kosan’s hand tightened on the hilt of his own lightsaber, his thumb gliding over the button in anticipation, preparing for what he knew would be a fight.

The dark figure stopped and slowly pushed back the hood, revealing a human, with wavy blonde hair, and a light beard. His face was hardened, and his eyes sparkled a dangerous red and yellow. “Master, its so good to see you again,” he said in a condescending tone, dripping with tension and malice. His eyes traveled to Ami, and his smile broadened. “You must be my replacement. Welcome, girl, to the event that will unite you with the Force in a way no Jedi teaching ever could, or will.”

Jenda could feel Ami drawing closer to her, the fright she was feeling normal, even for a Jedi padawan, at this age. Her eyes met the eyes of the dark figure and she spoke softly, sadly, “Daran, why you? You were always angry, so angry…but this isn’t you. Release your anger, your hate. Don’t let it destroy you.” Her hand dropped to her side, wrapped around her lightsaber, still extinguished, but prepared. “Come back from the Dark Side, Daran. You are not an instrument of evil.”

Kosan stared at the figure for a long moment as he laughed at Jenda’s words. His brows furrowed, scowling. “Daran? Daran Lightrider?” he asked incredulously, squeezing his lightsaber tightly. He knew Daran to have been Jenda’s padawan up until he became a Knight a few years ago. That was when Jenda had immediately taken on Ami, before she could be sent off to the Agricultural Corps or something similar. Jenda had seen potential in the girl, but had also in Daran. Now, he was standing between them and safety.

Daran Lightrider, former Jedi Knight, and now Dark Jedi in the service of the Chancellor nodded with an evil looking grin. “Why, Master Mendes, its so nice to be remembered,” quipped Daran, his voice cold and harsh, his eyes flashing with hatred and anger. “Now, remember this: you are enemies of the Republic and must be dealt with.” At his words, the troopers leveled their blaster rifles at the three Jedi, and Kosan could tell they were about to fire.

“Run!” yelled Kosan, igniting his blade just as two of the ten troopers fired their weapons. He caught the bolts on his blade, bouncing them back towards the ones that fired the shots, but the others began opening fire on them as well. Kosan stood steadfastly between Daran and the troopers, and Jenda and Ami. “Find safety!” he growled, deflecting back a few more bolts, but taking a glancing shot in the thigh, which burned his flesh nearly to the bone.

Jenda immediately turned to Ami, urging her to run. “Go,” she said, her voice growing tight with anticipation, her blade igniting in the darkness around them. “Don’t stop until you find safety!” she called, knowing that she couldn’t say get to the ship without endangering her.

Ami shook her head in numb fright, igniting her own blade, preparing to stand down this attack with her Master to the very end. She loved Jenda like a mother, and she wasn’t willing to leave her side, not like this. Before she could do anything, however, she felt a firm pressure on her chest, shoving her towards pad 39. “If you honor a single thing I’ve taught you, Ami, run, for the love of the Force, run!”

The girl scrambled to keep her feet under the powerful Force push she had been dealt. She could hear the cold, chilling laughter of the former Jedi, as his red blade hissed to life in the dark street. “But, Master…” she cried, feeling hot tears sting her cheeks, extinguishing her blade, beginning to run, but looking back the whole time.

Jenda’s gentle voice touched her mind, a soothing presence. Ami, you must run, now. You’ve been a very good apprentice, you’ve been my best. Please…live. Live and become the Master I know you will be. Pass on what you’ve learned. If I had a daughter of my own, I would be proud if she were like you. Now RUN! Unable to do anything now other than run, she did as Jenda bade her. Her mind was numb, both with what Jenda had told her, and with the knowledge that she’d never see her Master again. She ducked under a blaster bolt flying down the street and entered the starport, out of sight of those on the street.

Kosan’s emerald blade caught Daran’s crimson blade and the two crackled and whined as their energy couplings tried to out power the other. They drew their blades apart, and Kosan waved a hand, sending the last two troopers rolling down the long hill with a Force push, but took a vicious punch to the face as a result of splitting his concentration. The bronze skinned Jedi reeled from the blow, and Daran’s blade came speeding towards him in a death blow.

Daran looked up as another blade, a golden one, intercepted his blade and saved the Jedi from being cut down. His lips curled back slowly and his eyes flashed with hatred, drawing his blade back and whirling it over his head, changing direction, aiming a shot at Jenda’s neck. His former Master wasn’t having it, though, her own blade moving to block that attempt, her free hand using the Force to push Kosan aside, to get him out of the way. This was her fight, the way she saw it.

Jenda assumed a ready stance, her golden blade humming low in the night air, her eyes on her former apprentice. The Dark Jedi whirled his red blade around in confusing patterns, and then viciously lashed out at her with an overhead cut, which she barely managed to stop, forcing him back with her blade crackling against his. Whirling after pushing him away, she got her bearings to swing her blade back towards his chest as he was off guard, but the red blade stopped hers with a sparking flash.

Daran whirled again and again, their blades sparking against one another, creating quite a vivid scene in the street. Using the Force, he choked his former Master for a few seconds, long enough to set up the coming death strike, which he gleefully rushed into. The emerald blade of Kosan again thwarted him, and the both of them flew into each other with almost reckless zeal, blades flashing and sparking in the night. Jenda had been shoved back by her friend once more, and she had to fight to quell her anger at her former apprentice and Kosan’s stubbornness.

The three of them engaged in heavy combat, the two Jedi fighting against the Dark Jedi, amazed at the power at which Jenda’s former padawan displayed. He fought them both to a standstill at every turn, his lightsaber techniques every bit as expert as their own. All the while, Ami stared out the window from the darkness of the now abandoned landing pad terminal, her fear knotting in her stomach and growing exponentially.

The two Jedi coordinated their blows, raining slash after slash down on the Dark Jedi, the emerald and golden blades moving in deadly rapport and concert, attacking from varying angles and striking at different and opposing points, only to be thwarted by either Daran’s blade, or his use of the Force. The battle wore on for what seemed, to Ami, to be forever.

Finally, it seemed that Daran was weakening, and the two Jedi pressed the offensive, coming in from different angles. The Dark Jedi slashed against their blades, blocking them at every turn still, and taking advantage of the close quarters, elbowed Jenda in the face, knocking her back and down, and kicked into Kosan’s diaphragm, knocking the breath from him. He whirled his blade viciously, expertly, and drove it deeply just under the Jedi’s throat through his chest. The blade cut through his body as if it were butter, and pulled the blade free, turning and facing his former Master, who was screaming at that point.

Daran chuckled darkly as Jenda’s scream echoed down the street and off the walls of the starport before them. Her hand tightened somewhat on her lightsaber, and her eyes traveled to Kosan’s face, who was staring up at her in enormous pain. “Do…do what you must, Jenda,” he managed to rasp out before falling back from his final breath, dead.

The two Jedi, one Light, one Dark, circled each other warily for long moments, lightsabers at the ready, eyes alert and intent on the other. It was a battle of wills at the moment. Who would make the first mistake, who would miss the first attack and suffer the ignominious defeat awaiting them? Daran began whirling his red blade over his head, and Jenda did the same with her golden one. The humming of the two blades was audible even to Ami, where she remained hidden and unseen.

Suddenly, like shocker beasts, they lunged at each other, their blades crackling hard and loudly against one another, illuminating their faces. Jenda’s face was grim, the face of a Master who must kill her former apprentice. The face of a Master who had watched that former apprentice murder one of her dearest friends and colleagues. The battle to control her rage was monumental, but she was in control, keeping herself in check.

For long minutes they fought, each breaking out into a sweat in the sweltering Corellian heat of summer. The street was alive with the crackling of the lightsabers still. Each combatant was obviously very skilled, and though each was wearing down, growing very tired, neither was going to back down. This would end only when one was dead, that was growing more and more clear with every clash of the blades.

Jenda fought the Dark Jedi her former apprentice had become valiantly. Her courage, and her skill, were a true testament to her faith and training in the Jedi arts. Yet, all that did her little good, ultimately. Having grown exhausted, she whirled, bringing her blade about in a vicious arc, only to have it dodged. The Dark Jedi wasn’t there. Wheeling, trying to reverse the blade, she turned to watch the red blade of Daran Lightrider pierce deeply into her stomach, burning hot and cold all at once, gasping for breath.

She sank to her knees, her eyes filled with sadness, sadness for Daran. She reached out to him as she sank further onto the ground, her voice weak, the wound fatal. “Daran, this is not you. This is not who and what I taught you to be.” Blood welled up in her throat, though the wound itself was cauterized, the resultant damage around it wasn’t.

Daran smirked lightly at his former Master, and knelt down to look her in the eye as more troopers came to his side, blasters drawn. He balled his fist into her long, dark hair and held her eyes to his for a moment. “What you taught me to be, who you taught me to be, was weak. This is who I should be. You were just too weak to see it.” Several ships had taken off during the duel, and a couple more now that they were finished.

Jenda tried to reply to his words, but her voice failed her. She drew a rattling breath and fell limp, her hair still in Daran’s gloved hand. From her vantage point, Ami opened her mouth to scream, only to feel a hand clamp over it, keeping her from doing so. She whirled, to see the older man that was the pilot for their next leg of the journey warning her with a gesture to remain silent.

As she ran with the older man, she could hear Daran ordering the troops to search the houses and businesses nearby for her. He wanted her dead before morning. A chill ran down her spine. How could Master Kasille ever have been his Master? It wasn’t anything like the sort of thing that Jenda would have allowed, or let slip past her.

They boarded the ship and hastily took off, completely being ignored by the troopers, as so many ships were routinely taking off. Ami huddled in the passenger compartment of the ship, her cold more than temperature. She was now alone, on her way to Nubia, and she was frightened to think of how many, or rather how few, Jedi would be left when she got there.

She looked out the viewport before the ship went into hyperspace. The stars had lost their twinkle and shine. The ship, like the one before it, which once had felt warm with camaraderie, was now a cold, hollow shell. She was a cold, hollow shell, she felt. Closing her eyes, she shed a final tear, rolling down over her cheek slowly, like a crystal globe. The only mother I have ever known…


Chapter 8

Ami Loran awoke with a start from a feverish dream. In her mind, she was watching Jenda, her Master, be slain by her former apprentice, over and over again. Her eyes widened in the dimness of the passenger cabin. Then she realized it was just a dream.

The young padawan wished that the impetus for the dream had only been a dream. She looked around, trying to gauge the time, but it was impossible, without checking a chronometer. She pushed the heavy blanket aside that the older man must have draped over her while she slept on the bench seats in the passenger compartment of the freighter, and sat up, suppressing a shudder.

“I’m a Jedi,” she whispered to herself, in a mildly recriminating tone. “I can’t succumb to fear or hate. Those are the path to the Dark Side…like that Lightrider guy.” Just thinking about him gave her cold chills and the pit gnawing in the bottom of her stomach suddenly grew colder and harsher than it had been. She reached up to her face to find another tear falling over her cheek, and she quelled the impulse to lash out at herself for her weakness and display of such un-Jedi-like behavior.

What am I supposed to do? she screamed at herself in her mind, her emotions taking ebbing and flowing currents, like an ocean against the shore. She was like your mother, the only mother you’ve ever known! Jedi be damned, you’re a PERSON, too, Ami! You have feelings! You can’t just pretend she is still alive, or that she didn’t exist! You loved her!

At the terrible onslaught her own mind was giving her, she sank to her knees, then sat huddled in a corner, her arms around her knees, forehead on her knees, choking back tears, whispering, as if by rote, “Attachment is forbidden. Attachment forms bonds and dependency, and those lead to the Dark Side. To honor her, I must honor her words. To love her, I must love what she was.” She bit hard into her lip, not understanding what was happening to her.

Inside her mind, she could hear herself snorting in derision. Attachment is forbidden? Wake up, Ami. She was your Master, your authority figure, your parent, your everything. Do you honestly believe she could be all that to you, and neither of you become attached? You’ve got a LOT to learn about life and the galaxy, young lady. Ami’s hands went to her temples, trying to block out her own inner voice, which was assailing her with emotions and reason.

“She loved me like a daughter,” sobbed Ami, her face still buried behind her knees, her voice cracking even in the soft whisper that came from her lips. “But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, let that attachment form and hinder her ability to be my Master.”

“No, she couldn’t, but you’re right, she did love you like a daughter,” said a male, somewhat scratchy voice. Jerking her head up, she saw it was the older man that had been her companion since they emerged from that dark smuggling compartment. He wore a light smile and was offering her a cup of a hot, brown liquid that looked like hot chocolate.

Her brown eyes met his and she stared a moment into his gray eyes, trying to gain the coherency to speak. Finally, her lips moved, “You…you heard me?” She blushed, not having realized that she had been speaking aloud. Her cheeks flushed a pinkish red.

The older man chuckled softly and nodded, sitting on the floor next to her, but not very close, giving her some space. “I heard you say that Master Kasille loved you like a daughter, and that she couldn’t let attachments form and blah, blah, blah.” He smiled kindly as she drank a sip of the liquid. “And you’re right, she did.”

“But how would you know?” she asked incredulously, staring at the older man for a moment, the warm cup in her hands forgotten for the moment. “You didn’t know Master Kasille until a few hours ago…did you?” One thing she’d learned growing up in the Jedi Temple was that things are rarely what they seem to be. She’d never have believed, without seeing it, that a being like Master Yoda, who was barely as tall as her hip, could lift an entire building off its foundation with the Force, but he could.

The older man chuckled again, and smiled at her for a few moments, sipping his own hot chocolate, then answered, “Yes, and no. I haven’t seen her in a number of years, but there’s no mistaking those eyes.” He smiled fondly, thinking about her eyes, both amazingly beautiful, and hauntingly wise. “She was just a young girl when I met her…ready to be selected by a Knight to be their padawan. She was strong in the Force, even then, very strong.”

Mystified, Ami regarded the older man intently as he related his tale with a wistful expression and tone. “Then you were at the Temple?” she asked, unable to imagine this man having business at the Temple that would allow him to meet Jenda, even at that age. “What were you doing at the Temple, sir? Most of those events are pretty…exclusive.” It wasn’t common practice to allow many non-Jedi to witness such things, that much was certain.

“Oh, I was doing what most others were doing there at that time,” he laughed softly, staring into his cup, watching the liquid swirl around. “I was taking my trials for Knighthood.” The older man turned his cup up, emptying it in one drink, then sat studying the vessel for a long moment, a wistful expression on his face.

Ami’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re a Jedi?” she asked in an almost breathless voice. “But, but you…you’re a smuggler. You’re a freighter captain.” Her mind was reeling, trying to process this information, but so far, she wasn’t having much luck.

He chuckled and nodded lightly. “Rylo Tanner, smuggler, freighter captain, and former Jedi Knight, at your service, young padawan.” His tone wasn’t mocking, though it did have a small bit of humor to it. He stood up, went to the food dispenser, and refilled his cup, heating it in the processor.

“Wait, you said ‘former Jedi Knight.’ What happened?” she asked, her voice back in a semblance of calm, her medium brown eyes sparkling with curiosity and confusion both. She never would have guessed in a million years that this man, Rylo, was a Jedi.

Coming back and offering her a hand up, which she took, he walked into the cockpit of the ship with her, and sat in the pilot’s seat, nodding to the co pilot’s seat for her to sit. “What happens to a lot of Jedi…at least, Jedi that just don’t fit the mold, I guess you’d say. About four months after I was Knighted, I met a girl.” He shrugged lightly and sipped his drink. “I eventually formed an attachment, fell in love with her…and left the Order, to marry her, after being a Knight for all of ten months.”

Ami sat in stunned silence, listening to him. She’d never heard such things mentioned at the Temple, but then again, she supposed, that’s something they wouldn’t normally talk about. She turned to stare at him a moment, still wordlessly.

“Oh, don’t worry, my honorable padawan, I don’t use the Force to assist me in anything I do that’s outside the Jedi teachings. I grew up in the Temple, too. I respect their word and teachings, even now.” He checked a couple of readings on the instruments, and apparently satisfied, sat back. “I bend rules sometimes, but I don’t break them. Especially not Jedi rules. I’ve seen first hand what happens to Dark Siders. I don’t like what I saw.

“That’s why when I caught wind of this movement to help the Jedi to safety, I knew I had to help. No matter what else I’ve become, I was a Jedi.”

They flew in silence for some time, until finally the signal went off that the ship was about to drop out of hyperdrive. She drew a deep breath and held it without realizing as the stars elongated, everything seemed to slow, and suddenly it all snapped back into place. They were approaching a world, covered in modest white, puffy clouds, and much blue and green on the surface.

Staring at the planet for a moment, she looked around, looking for the Nubian shipyard that she knew was in orbit around the planet. From their current vector, she should be able to see it, but it wasn’t there. “Rylo,” she asked, “where are we? This isn’t Nubia…is it?” Her tone was definitely confused.

He chuckled softly, but without much humor. “No,” he replied softly. “This isn’t Nubia. The plan’s changed. If anything were to happen, and your Master and the other were discovered, the sanctuary point was to be shifted to the secondary choice. So, here we are.”

“Where is ‘here?’” she asked slowly, turning to look at him with a curious gaze.

“Alderaan,” he answered as the ship slipped into the cloud cover, the entire viewport going white.

 

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