Chapter 4: The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Men Go Awry
It was time to start the ceremony now that Brutus and Blu had shown up. The entire Order was present for this kind of celebration, which was different from the ways of the old Jedi Order. Under the direction of the three Grand Masters, the NJT had changed the tradition, allowing all members, even Initiates too young to have a Master yet, be on hand to witness the promotion of a Padawan, instead of only allowing Council Members to attend and take part. It was one of the many things that had been changed to provide each member more freedom in their lives. The formation was a large circle, with the Grand Master and Knight-to-be standing in the center. Malloren waited several moments for the two late arrivals to take their places before starting off. “I welcome you to the promotion ceremony of one of our own members. She was completed the Trials of Knighthood, and now the Council agrees that she is ready for the title of Jedi Knight to be bestowed on her. Serafine Tinaste, step forward, please.” The girl stepped forward, looking confident as she did so. “I have watched your progress ever since you were given a Master in this Order, and I believe that you will make a fine Jedi Knight.” Turning to the members standing in the circle, Malloren said “And now, I would like for all of you to honor her with your sabers. Ignite them now.” It took a moment for most of the members to whip out their sabers and ignite them, although a few younger members took longer to grab theirs and ignite them. The room was suddenly darkened, with only the colors of the sabers visible in the dark. “Now, Serafine Tinaste, I dub you Knight of the New Jedi Trials!” A loud roar erupted from the gathered Order members, and Malloren lit her own saber, proceeding to almost touch the Padawan’s shoulder with the blade. With a swift stroke, Serafine’s Padawan braid was sliced off, and she officially became a Knight of the NJT. More cheers came from the members, and the lights were turned back on. “Knight Tinaste, do you have anything that you want to say as a Knight of this Order?” Malloren asked. Serafine looked incredulous, still not believing that she was no longer a Padawan but a Knight. A few moments of silence followed as the Order members waited for her to say something to them. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Wow . . . I really can’t say anything to describe the feeling . . . it’s just . . . thanks.” She was pretty much speechless, and who could blame her? She was just given a huge promotion, one that meant that she was no longer a student. In fact, now she could have her very own Padawan to train in the ways of the Force.
“A round of applause for our newest Knight!” Malloren exclaimed, and the room quickly erupted in clapping and cheers. Brutus clapped along, but not very enthusiastically. That odd feeling through the Force had struck again, this time harder than it had before. Something bad was going on, but he could not sense what it was going to be. All he knew was that something was going to occur. As soon as the clapping died down, Malloren spoke once again. “Now it’s time to have a little reception. And yes, that does mean food for everyone.” A few of the younger students, eager to eat, ran over to the table to start heaping their plates with the delicious food. Brutus took the lapse to march right up to Serafine; he still wanted an answer.
“Knight Tinaste,” he said coldly. She turned around.
“Master Brutus,” she said, bowing her head a little.
“Congratulations on the promotion,” he said. She nodded nervously, sensing that this was not what he was getting to. “However, I have something important to talk to you about. Did you and your friends sneak into my room this morning and damage my stuff?”
“No, Master. I wasn’t with my friends this morning.” She was nervous, enough to give Brutus more suspicion.
“I think otherwise,” Brutus said. “Look, all I want is for you to apologize to me for what you did to my room.”
“I did no such thing,” she said, still nervous. “I don’t have access to the top dormitory level. It’s restricted.” Before Brutus could respond, Malloren had both Shap Cuvert and Jaden Von Klyse with her. Shap looked extremely confused, but Jaden had a straight face on. Both were cowering a little in front of Brutus, something that he didn’t intend to occur.
“Did either of you two mess with my room this morning?” Brutus asked them. Both Shap and Jaden shook their heads.
“We don’t have access to your room, Master,” Shap said shyly.
“But my droid said that you three were in there, and stuck it in my closet when it tried to stop you.”
“I was in the library,” Shap said. “I had to work on an assignment. Jaden can prove my story; she was there as well.”
“I was in my room the entire time,” Serafine said. “Maybe your droid is malfunctioning, Master.”
“I don’t think . . .” Brutus began, but he quickly wheeled around at the noise of servos being cranked and metal clanking. He whipped around to see T-87, his protocol droid, standing there with something in hand. The massed group of Jedi stared at the droid, confused as to what was going on.
“Sir, I have something for you,” the droid said, indicating to Brutus. Brutus looked at the droid with a confused look on his face. What exactly was the droid holding? Then, it hit him, and whatever it was caused him to react. It was a bomb, a small black bomb with a large red button that acted as the plunger to start the detonation countdown. “Goodbye, sir,” the droid said, allowing the bomb to tick down to two seconds.
“Bomb!” Brutus shouted. “Get down now!” However, his order was a little late, and the bomb exploded right in the palm of T-87. Brutus was forced backwards into the wall, smashing right into it and crumpling to the ground in a heap. It took him a second to wake up and realize what had happened and where he was. His head hurt crazily, and he placed a hand on his forehead to try and ease the pain. Staggering to stand up, he gazed around the area. The bomb had blown a gaping hole in the arching glass windows, and shattered glass was everywhere. Most of his fellows were downed by the blast, and only a few were getting back to their senses. Trying to walk over to the nearest Jedi, Brutus stumbled and fell onto one knee, finding it difficult to move due to the pain in his head. The pain from impact burned, and it was causing him to move awkwardly as he dared not aggravate it any more than necessary. Bending down to roll over the still-downed Jedi, Brutus realized that it was Serafine. Blood trickled down from her forehead, the cut opened when her head hit the hard wooden floor, and Brutus could tell that she was in real pain. Bringing her to an upright position, Brutus asked “Are you all right?” There was no response from her. Brutus asked his question again, hoping that she was still conscious. Finally, her eyes flicked open a bit, and her mouth moved.
“I’m all right. My head . . . it hurts. . .”
“You need to go down to MedBay,” Brutus said. “Everything will be all right.”
“I hope so,” Sera said, coughing up a bit of blood in her mouth. At this moment, Brutus heard the sound of a holoprojector being activate. Turning around, he eyed a small projector unit on the ground next to fragments of what used to be his protocol droid. A blue field erupted from the small device, and Brutus gazed as a face appeared. The face was partially obscured by a robe, and Brutus scowled.
“Greetings, members of the New Jedi Trials,” the voice said casually. Other conscious members of the Order cocked their heads around to watch the face while tending to others and nursing their own wounds. “I take it that my gift was arrived on time?” The figure smiled evilly, and Brutus frowned.
“Who are you?” he demanded. The figure’s smile did not waver; in fact, it started to laugh a little. The laugh echoed around the now-silent room.
“Master Crantilla, it’s been too long. Perhaps too long for you to remember,” the figure said.
“What are you talking about?” Brutus demanded once again. He had no clue who this man was claiming to be.
“That’s a shame. I would have thought that after all we’ve been through, that you would at least recognize me. Maybe this will clear up your questions.” The figure proceeded to rip the robes off from over his face, revealing a rough-cut Human face. The eyes of the being were penetrating like daggers, but nothing more could be determined from the image as to his other physical features. Brutus’s jaw dropped.
“You!” he exclaimed.
“I see that you know understand who I am,” the figure said, smirking. “You are probably wondering what I am trying to get at, what my motivation for having a traitor in your midst was for. It all began with something you stole from me many years ago, something that I have missed every day ever since. And now, thanks to help from inside your organization, I was able to retrieve my lost treasure. Who would have thought that your own droid was against you, Master Crantilla? And yet you fell for it, hook line and sinker. You never saw it coming, and that’s what describes you best; worthless.”
“You take that back!” Brutus shouted. The figure smirked again, amused by the reaction to his statement.
“You are in no position to make threats,” the figure said bluntly. “I really did damage to you and your pride. And there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing at all.”
“You’re going to pay for this,” Brutus said. He was getting angry, but he knew that he couldn’t go over the edge. He would have to control his emotions; anger was what the enemy wanted him to have, and he was not about to let his nemesis get satisfaction out of him.
“I find this rather amusing,” the figure said. “You seem to talk the talk, but can you walk the walk? I don’t think so.”
“What do you want from us?” Brutus shouted at the holo image. “If you already have your treasure back, why not leave us alone?”
“Because that would be too simple,” the figure retorted. “I’m after more than you think. Your pathetic little group has something else that I want.”
“And what would that be?” Malloren shouted. Brutus shot her a quick glance. She was bloodied up as well, but was still very much conscious. Her nose was bleeding, and she had bruises all over her hands and arms.
“Grand Master, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you yet,” the figure said. “We should be acquainted sometime, sometime when you are in a better condition. You realize that I have just effectively destroyed your Temple?”
“Until these walls fall, we are still here,” Malloren retorted. Brutus had to admit; she would not go down easily.
“Is that so?” snapped the figure. “I have underestimated you, then. Perhaps I should give you a chance to retrieve your items. So, I will make you an offer; bring me the item that I seek, and I will let you all live.”
“I’d rather kiss a Wookiee!” Malloren shouted. “That’s the worst deal I’ve ever heard!”
“So be it, then,” the figure said. “You will all being gone sooner or later, and then I will have free reign to do whatever I please with the place. Either you give me what I want or I will not hesitate to remove you forcefully. Crantilla, you know where I can be found. Remember the Gaugeway. That is where I will be. Bring me what I want in the next two days, or your Temple will come down.”
“What do you want?” Brutus shouted.
“I’m sure that you already know what I am talking about. It is the item that you know I have always desired, but failed to recover in the past. Now, if you will be so kind, return it to me. Otherwise, you will all die. If you’ll excuse me, I have other pressing matters to attend to. Remember my deal; you live, or die in vain. It’s your decision.” With that, the image shut down, and the projector went silent. Malloren looked at Brutus, who was thinking. She realized that this figure and the Council Member must have known each other from the way they acted, and she was curious to know exactly what the man wanted from their group. However, it was more important to help clean up the mess caused by the explosion and tend to the wounded, of which there were many. A few members were trying to lift others off of the floor, blood everywhere. Many Jedi had been knocked out by the explosion, and only the three initiates who had ran over to the buffet table were unscathed by the blast. They had dropped their plates when they saw the blast, and had come to help out their fellows. Malloren knew that she had to talk to Brutus about the situation; she had to make the best decision possible to save the Temple from possible enemy attack. However, she did not know if that would occur or not; false threats were common throughout the galaxy. Still, if someone had gone to the trouble to plant a traitor in their midst and set off a bomb right in a congregation of group members, the enemy must mean business.
“Brutus!” she called. The man’s neck shot up a little, and he turned to look at her. Standing up, she made his way over to him. “I have to talk to you.”
“I know,” Brutus said, watching Serafine as she waded in and out of consciousness. The blow must really have been bad, because she kept opening her eyes and shutting them. “I suspect that you want me to tell you who that was?”
“I would also like to know what he wants, and what you have planned on how to rectify the situation,” she said.
“We need to get the injured to MedBay as quickly as possible,” Brutus said plainly. “That’s all we can do right now. Our medical staff will be very overloaded by this.”
“And then we need to talk,” Malloren said. “Need help?”
“I can take her in to MedBay,” Brutus said. “I need everyone who is able to carry or help an injured person to do so right now.” Malloren nodded, and then scurried off to spread the news to all of those who were standing up. “You’re going to be all right,” Brutus said to Sera, whose eyes had just opened again, albeit very weakly.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice strained. Then, she lost consciousness again, and Brutus had to lift her body up off of the floor. Being a strong individual, Brutus planned on carrying her to MedBay; doing that would help save a stretcher for another severely wounded member. As he picked her up and started the slow trek, Brutus looked at the scene of carnage surrounding him. Bodies lay everywhere, and he hoped that they were not dead but only unconscious and could be revived soon. A few Jedi were helping those with broken appendages to walk, acting as a crutch for the wounded. Kai Koon was one of those living crutches; he was helping Jaxter Dukle, a Padawan of only fourteen years of age, get around on what appeared to be a broken leg. Brutus began the slow procession that should have been a glorious and cheerful one instead of a scene that echoed a march of the wounded after a battle.
The procession wound its way through the long halls of the Temple, finally culminating in the entrance to the medical facilities. Brutus entered first, placing Sera down on the first bed he came to. She was still unconscious, a little trickle of crimson blood coming out of the cut in her forehead. Moving to let other wounded Jedi through, Brutus stared at her for a long moment. He had been fooled into thinking that she had been going through his stuff, and she had paid the price for it by being injured. Brutus wanted to avenge the wounded by having his lightsaber blade pierce the heart of the enemy for all they had done to the NJT, attempting to kill and maim innocents in order to get what they wanted. It was a perfect example of what the Jedi themselves were committed to fight against, and Brutus knew deep-down inside that he had to honor the call to defeat the enemies of justice. Malloren walked up to him after she had brought in a wounded member and placed them on a bed. “Brutus, why don’t we go outside and talk?” she asked. He nodded, and the two of them left, making sure not to trip on anyone.
The two of them walked quite a distance from the medical facility, wanting to make sure that no one would overhear them. “What is going on?” Malloren asked quietly.
“That man. I know him from a long time ago,” Brutus answered. “He vowed that he would come back some day and make me pay.”
“What exactly are we going to do?” Malloren asked. “You’re not going to give him what he wants?”
“I don’t see any other choice. I may not like doing it, but we cannot afford risking our lives and our honor on speculation.”
“How do you know if he is going to attack us?” she asked. Brutus pondered a moment before turning his face a little bit. The sun’s rays shone on his face, revealing deeply on his facial expression. He was frowning when he finally spoke.
“He will. He has done that before.”
“Where?”
“There was a mission in whom I was to go help the negotiation process between a manufacturer and a business corporation. It turned out that this same being was at the head of the corporation, and was desperately trying to overtake the manufacturing company by all any means necessary. When I arrived, the manufacturer decided to walk away from the offer, sensing that it would doom their business. Well, the man got mad, and he set a large military force into action to force the manufacturer to sell him their company for a dirt-cheap rate. I was forced to fight alongside the manufacturers’ militia of unskilled workers, armed with power drills and outdated blasters, but we were somehow able to defend the company and defeat the enemy. After the battle, I was able to take something of his that he dearly loved, and he vowed that he would return some day and retrieve it. When law enforcement arrived, that man was arrested for many counts of violence and murder, and was sentenced to many, many years in prison. Apparently, he has now escaped, and now looks to steal our most prized possession.”
“What is that?” Malloren asked.
Brutus looked at her again, obviously distressed. “He wants the Core of Knowledge.”
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Blue and yellow make a green lightsaber. How do you get red out of blue?
Council Member in the New Jedi Trials/ Commander-in-Chief of the Rebel Alliance
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SWC Secret Rebel '09
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