main
side
curve
  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

Before - Legends Bastila Shan - An Autobiography

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by metophlus, Jun 30, 2015.

  1. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Entry Five


    Inside the shuttle transporting Vox, Vima, Meetra and me from a spaceport to the Jedi Temple, I sat on my knees and pressed my palms and nose to the viewport, admiring Coruscanti cityscape. Lines of widely cross-hatched speeder traffic, as though on transparent highways, navigated air lanes between polished skyscrapers. The kilometers-tall structures curved inward at the tops, tapering to soft points, and smooth grooves on the surfaces served as balconies.

    Meetra, sitting beside me, chuckled and teased me for being a country girl in the big city.

    I told her to shush and carried on goggling elegant architecture and the uniformity of a vast populace.

    The shuttle entered the Industrial Zone where structures were shorter and flatter and traffic was thinner. Factory smoke fed the clouds. Cranes moved gigantic crates while spindly droids welded parts in shipyard trenches.

    A while later, we landed on a pad. Our Republic pilot escorted us down the ramp and across the pad to a bridge. Vima and Meetra walked beside each other behind the pilot. Vox strode a few feet back from the two women and I followed yards behind him, my attention on the Jedi Temple at the other end of the bridge. The building was massive, the tallest one in the zone, but plain, its most distinguishing feature a single slender tower at the front.

    The pilot stepped aside and bowed his head as the entrance swished open. We entered into a corridor. Some six men could have walked shoulder to shoulder, and its ceiling was five times as high. Mineral veins spread chaotically across the gleaming floors and walls. I heard voices echo from somewhere and the sounds of our heels clip-clapping.

    Vima and Meetra led us a distance down the corridor, then we turned a corner into a lobby where the ceiling itself was a warm light source. Cushioned chairs were placed in loose circles near the corners and small trees and shrubs grew from circular openings in the floor, giving the air an aroma of greenery.

    There were people in uniforms behind a long desk at the far wall. Several lifts lined another wall, portals or stairways the alternate. A protocol droid hobbled about. A Jedi stepped from a lift and nodded to a receptionist.

    Vox turned around and looked down at me. "Sit down and wait for an attendant to retrieve you."

    "No," Vima said, stepping up beside him. "Let her enter and witness the proceedings. This is a chance for her to see first-hand how the Jedi Council functions."

    Meetra smirked. "Get ready to see the Jedi punish us, Basti."

    The three Jedi strode for a stairway and I trailed after, growing worried at what might happen to my new comrades.

    "We can expect an admonishment at worst," Vima said. She exchanged waves with a Twi'lek male Jedi coming down the stairs as we went up.

    Vox huffed. "You essentially experimented with the Dark Side on a planet-wide scale, Vima. It was reckless, if not borderline stupid."

    I caught up to Meetra and took her hand, lacing our finger together. "The Council should give the three of you medals. Why would they punish you when you did a fine job of fighting the darkness?"

    "You have a lot to learn about the Council, little girl." Meetra gently squeezed my hand.

    - - -

    "We summoned you before us so that you may explain your actions." A middle-aged balding man whose voice and face I thought must be specially tuned to make others feel disappointed in themselves, gripped the arms of his chair. "Make your case convincing, or else you three Jedi might leave this chamber as padawans again." In my mind I nicknamed him Crab Apple.

    "We cautioned you against going to Ambria." A second man stroked his thick mustache. "Yet you persisted anyway. Why?"

    The four of us stood in a chamber where Jedi Masters sat in a ring of seats facing a short stone pillar at the very center. Lovely Meetra had switched off her glowing disposition for a countenance one would wear at a funeral, Vima was now so weary that she seemed to have aged years upon stepping inside, and Vox kept glancing out the windows as though planning an escape. I wanted to display my bravery, thus stood a bit apart from the rest while in clear view of the surrounding masters.

    I had practiced breathing meditation on the way to the top of the tower and found that I didn't need to be sitting with my eyes closed to find a peaceful center. Though, I felt my calm dissipate as the tension in the chamber grew.

    Vima cleared her throat. "Master Thon lived a paradigm of Jedi philosophy. The Force was like an active ingredient in his cells. We wanted to use that light to drive away the Dark Side from Ambria, in honor of his example."

    "So you charged blindly ahead," Crab Apple said. "Narrowly averting disaster. And yet even this was the result of placing your peers and that child in danger."

    "Master Vrook is right." This Jedi, whatever his name, was halfway handsome with his square jaw and defined nose and cheekbones. "Your intentions were noble, but you acted rashly. And in doing, you put your life in danger as well as your own apprentice."

    "Administer my punishment so that we can be done with this," Vima said. "I think the Council has more important matters to attend than any one averted disaster."

    The room fell silent for several seconds. Shifts in external feelings told me that the Jedi were deliberating through the Force.

    The one with that mustache looked up. "Vima Sunrider and Meetra Surik. We're reassigning you to the Dantooine enclave. There you'll assist Master Zhar Lestin in the training of new students. Your time there should reaffirm the virtue of patience for you both."

    Meetra straightened. "Masters, forgive my intrusion. I humbly request that you consider sending this girl, Bastila, along with us to Dantooine."

    I gasped and locked gazes with the blonde beauty. How wonderful it would be to spend my days training with her; someone whose every tiny act toward me conveyed that she understood me.

    "Step forward, youngling." Crab Apple was warmer than before.

    I took a deep breath and stepped over to stand in front of him.

    "You retrieved her, Vox Aben. What say you on her behalf?"

    "The girl is headstrong and defiant," Vox said in his harsh quarren voice. "She shall grow to be a danger to those around her, unless she begins learning the Jedi disciplines."

    My stomach turned with anxiety. I feared they think me too dangerous to accept as an apprentice. I would have to draw out the truth of my own worth. "I try my best in everything I do. And for someone my age I've achieved quite a lot, haven't I? Please tell them, Vox."

    Vox continued. "She manipulated her mother's plants to grow out of season. She was able to control and command small animals, turning them into soldiers. Bastila has great potential, true, but..."

    I tried to detect the masters' response through their facial expressions and emotional currents in the Force, but found them remarkably muted in both categories. "Yup. I helped my mum's flowers grow. I led a pack of tookas. Tell me I traveled lightyears and almost died for a reason."

    Vrook shook his head, sighing faintly. "You believe you possess the patience needed for years of rigorous training. But I see within you an impatience to the level of recklessness." He looked to the mustached Jedi. "Zez Kai-Ell?"

    "Her future is. . . problematic." Zez Kai-Ell sagged slightly as if some weight had descended on his shoulders. "Darkness closes in from all sides."

    "The same could be said for every child," Vima said from behind me.

    Vox let out a watery groan. "It's in their nature to overestimate themselves, admittedly. At any rate, I would excuse myself from business outside my own. Thus..."

    Another pause, more elongated than the last. I closed my eyes and did my breathing meditation, pretending I was lightyears away from that chamber.

    "No, Vox Aben." It was Vrook speaking. "Stay and listen. We're assigning you to the Dantooine enclave, as well. You are to take Bastila as your apprentice."

    Vox issued a series of gurgles that resembled those of some dying aquatic animal and his tentacles were throwing a fit when I turned to my friends. I rushed to them and gave them each a firm hug.

    Vox was rigid. Vima gave me a casual embrace, then adjusted my pigtails the way my mother would. Meetra competed with me for squeezing strength and undid my pigtails, ruffling my hair.

    "Don't worry, Basti," Meetra said as we entered the lobby soon after. "You can train with me when Vox isn't paying attention. Which I assume will be the majority of days."


    [Then we skip forward seven years...]
     
    Ewok Poet likes this.
  2. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015

    Put simply, Bastila sent Vox on a guilt trip. :)
     
    Ewok Poet likes this.
  3. Goodwood

    Goodwood Jedi Master star 5

    Registered:
    May 11, 2011
    Interesting meeting with the Masters, and that you've basically made the canon Exile an apprentice of Vima, who was actually supposed to fill Bastila's role in the game.

    Looking forward to the next installment. :)
     
    metophlus likes this.
  4. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Just getting caught up here:

    4: I like how eager Basti is to help the group of Jedi in their meditations against this Ambrian menace. On one hand, it's too bad that Vox is being a killjoy and not even coming up with some small way to let her help; on the other, I guess part of him is just trying to be a careful mentor and wants to protect her from biting off more than she can chew at this early stage of her training.

    Intrigued by the banter and antics between the three female characters here—there seems to be a hint of flirtation in it. Vima certainly seems like a better match Master-wise for Bastila than Vox (though I'm probably showing my ignorance of the KOTOR era by saying that). Again there's that neat contrast of the youthful exuberance of "Basti and the girls" and Vox's priggishness.

    5: Enjoyed the detailed descriptions of the city, the temple, its denizens ("Crab Apple"! :D), and Bastila's reactions to them as an environment totally different from her previous home. Interesting that the council didn't quite approve of the masters' attempt to curb the dark forces of Ambria, but there's a point there about the brush with the Dark Side (and I love how Bastila asks what it actually is in chapter 4—the Saga never really does give that question a straight answer, does it? :p).

    And it seems Basti did end up officially apprenticed crotchety old Quarren after all—almost as his own punishment for his role in the Ambria affair! But now he's at least counterbalanced by "lovely Meetra." Curious to see where things could go with that...
     
    Ewok Poet and metophlus like this.
  5. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Yup. He knows bringing her there was irresponsible in the first place. She was too childish to withstand an all-out assault from Dark Side spirits by herself, and the Jedi were facing enough of a challenge without having to worry over her.

    She might have a go at Ambria when she's older.

    Those bits were the funnest to write. =]

    I think the Jedi Council wanted to free Vima for other things after she had spent a while training Meetra. Also, as you said, punish Vox.

    Thanks, Findswoman!


    You accidentally helped me to mold the story of her teenage years. I know where the story's going, but the upcoming section was the blurriest to me.

    *thumbs up*
     
    Findswoman and Ewok Poet like this.
  6. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    In the next miniseries,

    * A Miraluka has visions of the Jedi Civil War. The First Circle, an extremist Jedi cult, sends assassins to kill Vox Aben and Bastila Shan.

    * The Mandalorians grow more confident as they conquer Outer Rim planets. They make quick work of Talravin, and Bastila is left to worry at the fate of her parents.

    * Postpubescent Basti harbors a burning infatuation for her part-time instructor. But Meetra seems to be smitten by a "jerk" on Coruscant.

    Coming Soon!
     
    Findswoman and Ewok Poet like this.
  7. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014

    HA. I thought he wouldn't fall for something like that, being a Jedi and all. She's cunning. :D

    So, catching up since this heat is killing me and I couldn't focus for a couple of days (again). This review has been brought to you by one of those four evil food industry gigants, through its most caffeinated beverage.

    Entry Four

    The phantoms of the Sith Lords wanted me as a child and they have stalked me ever since. They lurk in the corners of my room now as I lie dying. One final choice of significance may remain to me after recording this book.

    So, this is how the autobiography is being recorded in the first place? The implication that Bastila may no longer be alive once others get to listen to it/read it is eerie.

    What is even scarier is that the said phantoms haunted her all life long. That's almost like a curse.

    And then, after that nightmare, she behaves like a carefree child, because it's too early for any demons to get the best of her. :D I too did notice the undertones Findswoman noticed and I assume they will matter later.

    Entry Five

    This chapter may be my favourite so far, even though some of the dialogue is just a tiny, tiny bit lazy.

    Intentionally or not, numerous parallels with Anakin Skywalker and some other aspects of the Prequel Trilogy shine through. Industrial zone's brief appearance is definitely a "gotcha!".

    Fitting enough, the hypocrisy of the council makes for most of the chapter. I understand that Vima's interest in Thon's powers may be controversial, but why didn't the council think of her family history and what Nomi was involved in when Vima was a baby? Their strictness on anything related to attachment and anything done against the rules set in stone continues to baffle me.

    And then Basti ends up being Vox Aben's padawan after all. Argh. :p This is going to be a wild ride.
     
    metophlus and Findswoman like this.
  8. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    She'd agree with you there. :D

    Hope you stay cool and jittery.

    Sweet! That was the atmosphere I wanted to create.

    A person might suffer the consequences of drugs many years after quitting. And they'll always be sensitive to its influence.

    That's a safe assumption to make.

    I welcome you to reword lines for me that you deem poor in future installments.

    In a really early version I almost had Vima dump Meetra in favor of Bastila, much like what Qui-Gon did to Obi-Wan in TPM. Then I thought that'd just be silly.

    They're infamous for that kind of thing.

    One explanation is that Atris' political toxicity is starting to take hold in the Order. It's all right if you aren't familiar with that character.

    That said... Atris may or may not exist in this timeline. I'm "spring cleaning" a lot of events and characters from KotOR II when we get there.

    Ah hellz ya!!

    Thanks for the review.
     
    Ewok Poet and Findswoman like this.
  9. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Entry Six




    Two months ago, a fellow apprentice asked if I wished to accompany him for a stroll on the lake shore. He said that he had waited so long to invite me because my beauty and dueling skills gave boys worthiness issues. Many young women had whispered of nudity and kisses during their outings with him.

    I accepted his invitation and ran to my quarters to bathe and dress in a nicer, form-fitting set of robes. I met him on the bridge where we were to begin our walk to the lake. Then a second girl joined us. I was offended at this, wanting to be the star female of the show, but kept my complaints quiet. We locked elbows with him. I listened to his suggestive humor and forced myself to giggle, but contributed little else to the conversation as we traveled over the Dantooine plains and hills. He and the other girl struck a natural rapport and we were barely at the shore when the two of them stripped to their undergarments, dove into the sparkling waters, and broke the surface to lock lips. He beckoned me to join, almost as an after-thought. Feeling out of place, I returned to the Enclave.

    The two apprentices were found dead in their separate quarters the next morning. Healers determined the cause to be brain-devouring ameba in the lake water that had entered their nasal passages. Ever since, I preferred to use Vox's tank for water meditation.

    Vox had obtained a new starship, a duplicate of the original left behind on Ambria. He seldom flew the vessel, keeping it docked within a cavity in the side of a plateau. I jogged to the ship every break of dawn, practicing my acrobatics on boulders, logs, and cliffs (someday I hoped to put my skills to the test and explore every noteworthy cave or tomb on the planet). From morning to noon I floated in the tank, my limbs loosely crossed and my head down. The Force became my source of breath, continually reverting the carbon dioxide in my lungs to oxygen. That had taken a few years of practice until it became automatic. If you believe my mind was far away from my body in those hours, or my spirit had transcended space and time, you'd be wrong. A common misconception. True, there are Force-sensitives who have viewed the future with what turned out to be astonishing accuracy, but I proclaim that they triggered those visions by staying firmly rooted to the present.

    "Now is when destinies unfold," Meetra often said. "The past is the present is the future." The galaxy-changing truths translate to what sounds like gibberish to an outsider, but the Force is more flexible than our stiff tongues.

    I stayed awake last night dreading the test Vox would administer this afternoon. He and I were going to decide my future. Was I prepared to be a padawan? Vox complained daily of my supposed petulance. He criticized my personality out of habit while the other masters and instructors praised my abilities after every training session. Even Master Vrook found his own unique ways of complimenting me, though less intuitive people may mistake it for insult. "It's a wonder you've done so well in your training and that you've managed to not completely fail us."

    I transitioned from light trance into deeper stages of awareness, where sense of self faded and the surrounding world opened to reveal misty forms dotting the landscape outside the ship. These drifting things were indicators of life confined to physical matter. And as I slipped further, I saw and felt the threads connecting them.

    Meetra spoke to a group of younglings. Vox hiked through tall grass, making for his starship. Master Tokare pruned a shrub in the gardens. A couple of apprentice boys wrestled on a mat. A vibroblade match had pit one student against two, their movements predictable to me. A pack of kath hounds used their tusks to tear at carrion in a canyon.

    A Zabrak man in dark robes wielding a red lightsaber leaped out and swiped at... Vox and me.
    I opened my eyes, shocked out of my meditation, and realized I still floated in the tank.

    - - -

    I reasoned the vision as a dream formed by my fears of the Dark Side, but I did not dismiss it on the slim chance the Sith Zabrak represented a literal threat. Dantooine was safe, I thought. I had dressed and brushed my hair by the time the ramp lowered and Vox entered. I stepped out and curtsied to him.

    "I am ready for my test, Master Aben."

    He slid his hands into opposite sleeves and stared at me with his crystalline eyes. "Your soul was a power conduit for the Force, my apprentice. Why did you stop meditating?"

    "I wanted to be at attention when you arrived." My vision was my concern. Masters cautioned their apprentices against overactive imaginings that could lead to delusion. I wanted to present myself as normal and submissive today, fearing Vox might look for a reason to bar me from promotion.

    He hissed. "The test deems today special? How convenient."

    I crossed my arms over my stomach and bit my tongue. On average days I rebuked him for over-analyzing my every choice, but today was in fact special.

    "There is no emotion..."

    I put my arms at my sides, raised my chin, and softly cleared my throat. "There is peace."

    Vox traced a repeating circle around me in the cramped corridor. "Describe your emotions at present."

    Keeping my front facing the entrance to the cockpit, I tried to ignore his efforts to intimidate me. "Emotions? I am at peace, master."

    My master stopped behind me, brought his mouth close to my ear. "Self-delusion. Imagine you answered these questions correctly at a superficial level, but I say that you failed the test. Would you be at peace then?"

    "Doubt it." I shivered. "A student who fails the initiation must review the basics for months until their master gives them a second chance."

    He relocated to in front of me and leaned in so that his ugly squid face almost touched my nose. "Or the master deports their student to a far-away planet where they can live as a lowly farmer for the rest of their life. You've expressed interest in agriculture before, haven't you?"

    I stared him in the eyes, trying to hold back my revulsion. I was halfway successful. "I'm too promising to waste, Vox Aben. Fail me and the Council is sure to countermand you."

    Vox returned to his normal posture, nodded, and turned his back to me. "You hold your breath for extended periods of time while meditating. Promising, but your worth is yet to be truly seen."

    I accidentally released a snort. "Save yourself the agonizing wait, master. Ask a seer to look into my future and find my worth. Shouldn't we move on with the recitation already?"

    Vox pivoted on a heel and glared down at me. "There is no ignorance..."

    "There is knowledge."

    "What knowledge do you pursue on a daily basis?"

    "I meditate in part to learn how people are connected in the Force."

    "Go on."

    I considered how best to describe my personal journey toward enlightenment, and tried to channel Meetra Surik in both my speech and tone. "Thoughts, feelings, and destinies form a web together in the spiritual plain. I want to follow those threads to their beginnings and ends, to discover the pattern of the universe."

    Vox was silent for several seconds, then grunted. "There is no passion..."

    "There is serenity." Though I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.

    "There is no chaos..."

    "There is harmony."

    Vox made to place his hand on my cheek, but then stopped himself. "You spoke of a pattern to the universe. It's outside your perception, yet you sense that it's there. Find it... and you find harmony."

    I felt a flutter of affection for my master.

    He returned to his hard exterior. "There is no death..."

    I took a deep breath and exhaled through my mouth. "There is the Force."

    Vox turned his shoulder to me and waved a hand. "If I were wise, I'd delay your promotion by another year. But when you're a padawan, you'll spend more time training with Meetra and less time pestering me. Very well. I hereby name you a padawan."

    "That's why I respect you as my master." I mentally relieved tightness in my muscles, a side-effect of trapping my more passionate side for so long. "You're willing to overlook your personal doubts when my future is at stake."

    Vox grumbled under his breath and walked for the cockpit.

    I followed him. "Now it's time to construct my lightsaber. I've deliberated on this for days and I've decided a yellow crystal best suits my personality. Do you have the supplies available?"

    He sat down in the captain's chair, crossed his arms, and lowered his head.

    Annoyed at him for so abruptly introverting, I fell back into the co-pilot's seat and knocked my heel on the deck a few times. "This is Bastila Shan calling to Vox Aben. Speak to me, master."

    He made spitting sounds before he spoke. "The Jedi influences the crystal, and the crystal influences the Jedi. You want to grow into a calmer, more thoughtful individual. As your master, I say that you'll use a green crystal."

    I tilted my head and squinted at him. "Excuse me?"

    "And your lightsaber shall be short, to teach you humility."

    My mind whirled with the possible insults I would have to endure from my fellow padawans. He was incidentally correct in that I wanted to cleanse aspects of my personality and become a mature-acting adult. But the restrictions were insane. "Those restrictions are insane. Why are you trying to make me a walking joke of a padawan? Do you truly resent me so much that you would sacrifice your reputation as a mentor?"

    Vox huffed. "The lightsaber is a tool. A symbol. Such a thing doesn't make a Jedi. In fact, if you carry yourself as you should, you'll rarely find need for it and others will rarely find need to laugh at your expense. What truly protects a Jedi is the Force. You'll do well to take that to heart."

    I bit my tongue, screaming on the inside until I was confident I could talk again without ranting. "Fine, then. Let's get on with constructing my rubbish lightsaber."

    - - -

    Stationed at the workbench that folded out from the wall of the crew quarters, I used a hydrospanner to insert and adjust circuitry components within the small hilt. The design was far from my personal ideal, but I was going to make sure that this weapon was the best of its kind. A padawan of my talents deserved better, I thought. I would need to depend on my personal charisma to win respect from people, while skipping out on sparring matches.

    Vox sat at the table in the lounge watching Underground News Net. He would tell me to keep working when he sensed I was paying more attention to the news anchor than my project. I constantly heard reports of Mandalorian activity in the Outer Rim, sprinkled with the name Revanchist.

    I snapped a diatium power cell into place, attached a mounted crystal to the top, and then put the shell of the hilt together, screwing it closed. "Done and done!"

    I held the weapon in one hand and pressed the activation button. An emerald blade emerged, noticeably thin, short, and pointed. Two knobs on the hilt were turned to their maximum; one controlled blade intensity, the second length.

    How could I test my lightsaber? I twirled the blade with my dainty fingers and sliced the wall behind the workbench. The gash sizzled at the edges.

    Vox stepped into the quarters. "Girl, learn to think before you act. The Council was gracious to fund my purchase of this ship and you repay them by scarring the walls."

    I waved my lightsaber a few feet from his face. "Forgive me, master. I had a strong urge to slice something."

    "Turn that off already. The thought of you wielding one of those gives me nightmares."

    Crestfallen, I switched off the saber and clipped it to my belt.

    My stomach then felt filled with fluttering bugs. A sense of longing stretched from there to... a short distance from the plateau where the ship was settled. Meetra Surik was on her way.

    "What are you smiling for?" Vox said.

    I bolted into the corridor and pressed a button on a panel to open the ramp.

    "--- publicly executed the official earlier today..." The news played in the lounge.

    I ran across stone and dirt floor of the docking bay to one end of the wide mouth and turned onto an outdoor path leading down.

    Meetra waved to me from far below.

    I quickened my pace until skidding to a halt on a flat area. The other woman soon stood a few meters across from me.

    "Where have you been this week, Surik?" I put a hand on my hip and arched a brow.

    Meetra put a hand over her mouth to cover a fake yawn. "Mistress Vima invited me to a High Council meeting on Coruscant. We discussed rules and regulations related to newly-appointed padawans." She must have spotted the lightsaber at my belt.

    "Oh?" I drifted closer to her. "And what did you self-important ****ers decide?"

    The woman gave me a look of pity. "You're banished for being too hot-headed." She strolled to me, graceful movements putting Cathars everywhere to shame.

    "Or because someone was jealous of my stunning beauty." I slid my tongue slowly across my upper lip while smiling in the most wicked way.

    - - -

    A week before, I had asked Vox for his opinion on Jedi maintaining intimate relationships, a disguised plea for his blessing.

    "Love is an endless minefield partners traverse hand in hand," he had said. "Trigger but one and you're well down the dark path. You are thankfully too young to have to face trials of the heart."

    "Say you found me kissing a girl. Or boy. Would you discipline me?"

    "The Code is clear. I expected you to possess basic reading comprehension. If you wish to engage in carnal activities, I hope you would have the wisdom to do so far away from me."

    I was stupid to ask that and put him on alert, but the damage was done. Meetra hardly seemed to care if Vox suspected us and told the Council, knowing her prestige in the Jedi ranks would likely allow for a faint blemish on her record. And she could depend on Vima Sunrider to run interference for us.

    - - -

    Vox, Meetra, and I sat at the round lounge table, each with a cup of tea. I preferred to savor the taste of Meetra on my tongue, thus left my cup alone. Quarren black brew was notoriously repugnant to human taste buds at any rate.

    A recap of a swoop race played on the holo-screen next to us. Vox, hating sports, had muted the volume.

    "I find your foot odor sickening," the alien rumbled. "Stop playing at each other under the table and put your stockings back on." His kind smelled through two orifices at either side of the neck.

    I rolled my eyes. "Are you certain it isn't your own feet that stink?"

    "His ship, his rules." Meetra winked at me. We used our practiced toes to help each other slide our stockings back on.

    A minute later, Vox reached up to the screen and returned the volume to normal as the next UNN segment began.

    "--- more casualties than can be reasonably accounted for." A reporter commentated over a scene of an encampment where several humanoids stood in the foreground, each adorned in body armor and a stylistic t-visored helmet that curved from the shoulders toward the neck then up to a point above the head. Sheets of drizzle blurred the backdrop of battered tents, plasteel shelters, and drooping tropical trees. "The Mandalorian occupiers have released a video challenging the Republic to take firm action against them. Be advised. The footage you are about to see is of a graphic nature. It may not be suitable for all viewers."

    As my heart thumped faster, I remembered that I was only fifteen years old and starkly innocent to the wider galaxy.

    My stare flitted to Meetra, whose face I found locked in hard readiness.

    A Mandalorian put a heavy arm around the shoulders of an aged man in torn colonial wear. "Tell the Republic Senate the same thing you told us after we razed your farm to the ground." He sounded. . . joyous.

    The cam zoomed in on the colonial, his face cracked and sickly. "You attacked our world unprovoked." He was a man at the edge of tears, pushing out his last ounces of bravery. "You murdered my son when he dared to speak against you. I fought against Mandalorians in the war with Exar Khun, and they were at least better than your ilk. Well, I'm not standing for it any longer! Let's see if your Mandalorian Code of Honor has any weight to it. I challenge you. Fight me, one on one."

    The armored one laughed and shoved the veteran off cam. "Our valiant hero and his opponent are each equipped with a vibroblade."

    The cam drew back to show a circular patch of soil, crates lining its edges. The old man climbed to his feet, a blade in his hand. His armored and masked opponent entered across the crude arena.

    The two fighters struck repeatedly at each other and blocked or parried in the same motions. But the match lasted a minute.

    The younger, stronger, taller, healthier man amputated the veteran's dominant hand.

    "Die with honor!" The Mandalorian swept the tip of his blade across the old man's belly.

    The defeated fell dead on a pile of his own gore.

    The UNN reporter started talking again as another clip played of armored grunts using pikes to herd prisoners across the camp. "The rule is that if a civilian acts like a soldier, they are to be treated as one. For every poor soul we see here, the question becomes whether they should die in a fixed duel or go on suffering in this Hell." I saw humans, Twi'leks, Bothans, Zeltrons, and even two Wookiees, all with their hands bound in thick rope and their bare flesh or patchy fur wrecked by blood, bruises, and mud.

    I heard Meetra grind her teeth and I looked over to find the beauty's ethereal glow diminished. She gripped the edge of the table and stared at the screen, though I had the sense she now saw past the ship hull itself. I got up from the table and stepped close behind her where I dropped to my knees and put my chin on her shoulder.

    She pressed her cheek to mine. I felt it grow warmer.

    I wrapped my arms around her. She grasped my wrists and leaned her head back, nostrils flaring in my hair.

    "Away with the both of you," Vox said.

    Meetra sighed and readjusted herself in the chair. I let my arms fall to my sides as I stood.

    Vox took our three cups by the handles and went to dump the cold tea in the sink. "Aren't you giving a lecture this afternoon, Meetra? Why do I need to remind a teacher when it's time to teach?"
     
    Admiral Volshe and Ewok Poet like this.
  10. WarmNyota_SweetAyesha

    WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Chosen One star 8

    Registered:
    Aug 31, 2004
    #5 - I enjoyed the observations of the Council meeting and the way they came to a decision about what best to do with Bastila.

    #6 - Hmmm. Interesting turn here.
    Mod edit: comment removed. If you don't have anything nice or constructive to say, please dont say it.
     
  11. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    Yes, there is definite lovebirdage taking place between Bastila and Meetra. :p It's got a not-yet-too-deeply-involved, "teenager in love" feel that makes perfect sense for people of their ages and levels of experience. I'm curious to see how it will continue to go in this very Old Republic, "no attachments" environment. (Is any sort of relationship between them implied in canon, or is it original to you?)

    And then there's Vox right smack in the middle, being an old grump of a specifically Jedi type. I would not want to be taking a test like that with him. But I also wouldn't want to be the one giving someone as backtalky as Bastila a test like that. At least he's sort OK'd Bastila and Meetra's billing and cooing as long as it doesn't take place around him, and I imagine he's OK with Bastila's use of his tank to meditate (very narrow escape there with the amoeba-infested lake!).

    This moment seemed to sum up the relationship between Vox and his student...

    ... and perhaps this explains why she takes the double-bladed route later! :D

    It was interesting to see a hifalutin Jedi like Vox doing something as mundane as watching the news. Kind of humorous at first, until the camera turned to the showdown between the Mandalorian and the old farmer. Some real gumption on the part of the latter to openly challenge his captor in terms of the vaunted Mandalorian honor code. Kind of reminds me of the Italian security officer taken hostage in Iraq in 2004 who shouted "I'll show you how an Italian dies!," though the situation here is kind of the reverse of that—the farmer is challenging the Mandalorian to show him how a Mandalorian fights, even though he probably knows it will mean his death.

    You're doing a mighty fine job portraying the sentient, fallible, not-completely-perfect side of all these Jedi, both teachers and students. In this era that's especially refreshing to see, since the Jedi of the KOTORs often seem so unattainably perfect and detached and off in their own little spirit world.
     
    metophlus and Ewok Poet like this.
  12. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    Knowing how people stereotype LGBTQ relationships, I love the way you handled this. So far, I have not seen a single trace of the problematic "men like lesbians because they turn them on" narrative, or - goat forbid - "rainbows and glitter" kinda stuff. On the contrary, the flirting has been written in a respectful way, with taste.

    I love the little parallel with that predator type and his latest exploit ending like that out of nowhere. :p Not that his behaviour has been very Jedi in the first place, he was taking it, as a friend of mine would say, beyond all possible beyondness. At the same time, a part of me wonders if Vox was involved with their death somehow.

    I agree with Findswoman about showing that each of these Jedi has their own weakness, their own doubts and whatnot. Vox's vulnerability, on top of it all, may be his obsession with order, which further causes him to be manipulative, something that a Jedi shouldn't be. Either way, so far he stands out as the highlight of the entire story and his wise sayings are a great contrast to his actual behaviour.

    "Love is an endless minefield partners traverse hand in hand" - this is GFFA's "Love is a battlefield". :)

    Another thing that stands out bigtime is Basti's youthful playfulness on one and "talking back" and other typical teenage behaviour on the other side. This is one VERY believable fifteen-year-old: curious about world in general, her own romantic and sexual orinentation, questioning the authority and, at the same time, being very ambitious.

    On the other hand, having read about Meeta and her canon story, I wonder how this relationship and any plot point it changes will change the eventual fate of Revan.

    Nothing I would give criticism for this time, abso-totally nothing. Two thumbs up!
     
    metophlus and Findswoman like this.
  13. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Original. @};-

    Bastila and Meetra were contemporarily based in the Dantooine enclave and both women showed great promise in the eyes of the Order. They not only had to have known each other, but they would have been friendly competitors, and in the case of mild AU: lovebirds.

    Classy teen rebellion is the best! :D

    Wow. May that Italian man be remembered.

    I'll make it a goal to continue writing them as believable people.

    There's a time and place for the classic Jedi of legend: in-story legend.
     
    Findswoman and Ewok Poet like this.
  14. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    :)

    Female personalities are more intriguing to me than male. It's especially rewarding for me, then, to pair two females together romantically.

    The incident was pretty convenient.

    Given that he's an OC, that's really high praise! :)

    Haha! I thought that right after writing it.

    Thanks! That does describe a fifteen-year old, doesn't it?

    I hope I can eventually manage a grown Bastila Shan, fully formed into the woman from the game. Every adult carries some kind of drama from their past that might shock even those who know them. Her outward person is often a snooty know-it-all, youthfully cocky. . . yet she can be strangely well-spoken and at times wise for someone so young, even ignoring the rote Jedi Textbook lines.

    Bioware writers created a deep character... mostly by accident.

    Same here.

    Well darn. ^_^ Thanks!
     
    Findswoman and Ewok Poet like this.
  15. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Entry Seven




    I was allowed to change my mind on trivial matters when under the strain of boredom.

    I held my lightsaber and faced human male peer, Prezly Waaren, on a dueling mat in the training room. Zhar Leston, a Twi'lek Jedi Master, refereed. Several other padawans at the sidelines spectated with steely interest on their faces. "Ready."

    We raised our hilts in both hands and activated them at the same time. Hiss and sizzle became a deep hum. "Fight." I stayed in battle stance, my left foot set firmly a pace behind me.

    Prezly ran at me until in reach and swung at my knees.

    I rotated my hilt a sideways one-eighty, pointing the tip to the floor. Our blades crashed on the outside left of my body.

    He pulled a full circle over my head and at my waist.

    I moved my blade to the right and blocked.

    He tried to overcome my strength, pushing for my torso. Our blades singed my robes at the hip.

    I leaned back.

    He leaned forward to compensate. The upper quarter of his weapon was close to the base of my hilt. I had the superior leverage.

    I leaned to the far side in the direction of his push and dragged my saber along. Our weapons separated as I went for the outer calf of his leg and. . . hit.

    Prezly fell and wailed like a shrill infant.

    A few onlookers used telekinesis to drag him from the mat. Zhar raised his hand and closed his eyes for a few seconds, administering a psychic sedative to the defeated padawan, who fell unconscious. "Delgitto and Sidlanger. Go."

    Human male Delgitto came cautiously for my front while holding his weapon in one hand horizontally between us . Twi'lek female Sidlanger, a known devotee of Ataru, rushed me from behind.

    I triggered a burst of Force speed and zoomed, knocking aside his lightsaber in the same nanosecond that Sidlanger launched from the mat and all but flew to the wall behind my current opponent.

    He and I each exchanged a spark-filled blow and locked sabers by the time the Twi'lek kicked from the wall meters above the floor and went like a blaster bolt for Delgitto's back.

    He jumped out of the way. I spun my body to the side and ended up behind the still-suspended Twi'lek where I struck at her feet. . . missing.

    She landed in a front roll, then turned and stood in the same movement.

    I made for Delgitto again and stabbed at his chest. Sidlanger was upon the young man as well, swinging for his left shin.

    He hopped over the Twi'lek's blade, parried my attempted stab, and landed again.

    My temporary ally and I threw a series of powerful attacks at Delgitto, who then used the defensive style Soresu, keeping his blade close to his body.

    Seconds wore on. We went for every exposed part on our enemy, but he rotated his wrists and swept his shining shaft in almost casual movements that frustrated me more and more. When I was wondering if we would ever find a break in his defense, Sidlanger brought her saber straight down for his head.

    Delgitto, perhaps feeling her attack was too powerful to simply sweep away with his blade diagonal or vertical, raised his weapon over his head while tilting it horizontally.

    Sidlanger let her blade "bounce" a few inches off of his, then struck down at his dominant hand.
    He dropped his saber and fell to his knees, crying out.

    I struck at the Twi'lek, hoping to capitalize on the distraction. I feared for my reputation as a duelist, feared that she may be the greater fighter, and I wanted desperately to dash my own doubts and prove my worth. The masters frequently complimented my talents with a blade and my aptitude for deep meditation. To lose this match would mean disappointing them and thus wounding my confidence in the years to come.

    But she blocked. We flew into a heated duel of blurred, risky attacks and precise defenses. The Force and our own hormones pumped through us as we twirled our blades and bodies, each desiring nothing more at that time than to defeat and humiliate the other. My surroundings disappeared. My focus switched constantly to exposed parts of her body that decided my next surgical jab or slice, then to stopping her comparable offenses. Emotions stormed. I felt exhilarated as when Vox and I had descended through the atmosphere of Ambria, but now I could wield and direct those feelings to empower myself.

    The end of the pulse-pounding dance came abruptly. Sidlanger repeated the attack she had performed earlier, jumping and flipping backward out of my reach to a wall, where she bounced off and zoomed at me. She straightened, becoming a projectile, stabbing for my face.

    I parried her blade, then felt weight squeeze between my legs.

    The Twi'lek grabbed my ankle as she shot under me. She tripped me and let go.

    I landed in a push-up position, but my nose nonetheless smacked into the mat. My eyes filled with tears from the shock and pain. Most the students guffawed, clapped, or turned away in an effort to suppress themselves. Shame-fueled anger boiled in my belly, churned up through my veins and muscles, giving me a new sense of focus, purpose, and raw power waiting to be burst out through some show of physical dominance. I glanced up to see Leston close his eyes and extend a hand toward me, doubtless wanting to calm my embarrassment. He could keep his artificial emotions and placating lies, though. I shoved his psychic influence back with my hot feelings. The pink Twi'lek master appeared startled as I climbed to my feet, saber still in hand, and faced Sidlanger who stood with one hip jutting out, twirling her lightsaber lazily and smirking at me.

    "Try to be positive," she sang. "You'll always have those cute dimples."

    I walked for her, shoulders back and chin elevated, fist gripping the weapon at my side.

    Her victorious energy lessened every step I took. She seemed even more startled than our referee, and took on a defensive stance with eyes wide and jaw gaping. My emotions radiated through the room, silencing the students. I was sure I heard Leston telling us to stop, but I would have none of it.

    I raised my blade in both hands and brought it down on the Twi'lek, then pushed our locked shafts closer to her face. "Go back to the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Marry a nice Hutt."

    She growled and twisted her body in a circle, going for my legs before my own blade could close the scant few inches to hurt her. I blocked, and swung for her head.

    She blocked, but more sluggishly than last time.

    We attacked repeatedly. I retained my strength and speed, but Sidlanger had lost her previous vigor. At last I slammed my blade into the side of her face and sent her sidelong into the hard floor, for we had left the mat some time ago.

    My heart beat vibrant victory, and my pride had me feeling the most powerful Jedi that ever existed.

    The feverish madness left me in a flash, though, when I looked down at my fallen foe sobbing on the floor. A red welt scarred the Twi'lek's face. Blood and tears streamed down her cheek and dripped off her jaw bone. I felt a sudden sickness with myself, then switched off my lightsaber and dropped the abomination of a weapon to the floor where I wanted to leave it forever. I turned around to see the many students gathered behind us. Master Leston squeezed past some of them; they had congested their numbers to keep the teacher at bay, perhaps because they craved to witness the violent urges they daily kept trapped inside themselves. A few clapped, cheered or hooted, but others appeared shocked and a few even eyed me in suspicion bordering on disgust.

    "Sidlanger!" The pink Twi'lek man dropped to the padawan's side and gently moved her hand away from her face to replace it with his own.

    "Bastila Shan." An oddly-inflected voice sounded from the doorway of the training room. Master Vandar, an alien who stood a few feet tall, motioned for me. He was humanoid, though I would pause to call him near-human, for his eyes were bulbous and heavily-lidded, his ears were long and pointed, his skin green-brown and leathery, and his tiny fingers ended in claws. It was hard to guess Vandar's age, but it was commonly accepted that he was in the centuries-range, if not shy of a thousand years.

    I swallowed a lump in my throat which traveled down to the growing shame and fear in my stomach, and walked to Vandar, finding it difficult to express my utter humility given I had to look straight down at him when I stopped in front of him. "Yes, master?"

    The alien locked his hands behind him and leaned his head back to study my demeanor. I stayed frozen in place and heard the mutters of gossip among the other padawans.

    "She'll be banished for sure."

    "Friggin' psycho, that one."

    Vandar issued a long groan as he usually did when reaching some disturbing truth. "The Council shall deliberate upon this incident. Until we reach a unanimous decision as to your future here in the Dantooine Enclave, you are to remain on Vox Aben's ship. Leave your lightsaber where it lays. You are dismissed."

    Soon after, I flitted my fingertips across prairie grass. Best to take my time on my journey to the ship, thinking on my best retorts for Vox's likeliest criticisms. Creating mental, hypothetical debates with my masters was a hobby I found both stimulating and annoying. Every padawan brushes the allure of the Dark Side from time to time, I thought. The Council must be understanding toward students who give in to their anger, or else the Jedi Order would be considerably lesser. The Jedi needed their numbers to combat the ocassional uprising of Dark Side acolytes, and depended on racial and cultural diversity to expand on their understanding of the Force through the generations.

    Midway there, I stood on a hill and squinted out at the lake, its rolling waves sparkling like thousands of diamonds in answer to the setting sun. Vandar wanted to frighten me back into my usual submission to Jedi ideals, without realizing that I had done as much to myself when defeating Sidlanger.

    I reached the maze of plateaus where, further ahead, the ship was docked in a land cavity. One kilometer left, then I would bravely face my grumpy Quarren master and give him further reason to resent humans. But deja vu descended on my mind. I halted and waited for the dizzying sensation to pass. I questioned why the present moment seemed a memory from days ago; I had been standing right here, when something relevant had happened on the cliff above.

    "Precisely what I thought," Vox stepped from behind a boulder a short jog in front of me. "Taking a leisurely pace when a reprimand awaits." My master strode at me, glaring.

    I kept in place, trying to piece together the new mental puzzle. And I finally remembered my vision. Vox was almost to me when there was a beast's growl from overhead.

    A Zabrak man in black robes, wielding a double-bladed lightsaber, leapt from the cliff edge a dozen meters above us, aimed to land in our midst.

    I became aware that my lightsaber was back at the Enclave.

    Vox super-sped at me and grabbed me under the arms. The impact painfully compressed my sternum, emptied my lungs. He zoomed us onward, my legs around his waist, and then the Quarren stuck his heels into dirt to slow us down, else my back smack into the wall of a plateau. We clumsily came to a stop and regained our footing as dust and pebbles showered us.

    The Zabrak roared in unadulterated rage and landed in my previous standing spot, the collision so absurdly powerful that the ground shook and a small crater formed about him.

    "Who is he? Why does he want to kill us?"

    "Return to the Enclave." Vox pushed me back and stepped between me and the Zabrak.

    Highly-concentrated spiritual currents rippled in the air and converged on the Zabrak, who gripped his saber staff in both hands and presumably gathered more of the Force in himself to mount another over-the-top assault. His face, tattooed in a wild tribal design and twisted by malice, looked more animal than sentient. Six long, gnarled horns were set on his head.

    "We're partners, Vox." I stepped up beside him and went into battle stance. The Force was my ally, even if my lightsaber was long gone.

    "Remember your place. I bear a responsibility to keep you safe, and I intend to."

    The Zabrak shot forward at us a few inches above the ground, fast as a blaster bolt. Vox Force-pushed me to the side.

    I somersaulted and landed upright as thunder from the sonic boom blasted the air and a mighty wind immediately staggered me. A thick dust cloud sailed past my view of the two.

    Vox had conjured gauntlets of white light that flashed and glowed around his fists and forearms.

    The Zabrak spun and manipulated his staff with fluidity, striking at Vox from multiple angles a second.

    Vox used his gauntlets to block, then punch or chop. He drove his enemy back inch by inch, but relented the same minuscule distance.

    Both fighters called upon an infinite well of power and stamina as with their every motion each came dangerously close to the other's body.

    Vox's fingertips grazed the dark one's face and robes.

    The Zabrak lopped off the tip of a tentacle, sliced a flesh wound through an arm of the Jedi garment.

    A voice spoke in my mind. "Go. . . Bastila. . ."

    I blinked, breaking from the hypnotic effects of watching such a duel. I knew my presence right now distracted the valiant Jedi Knight, stunting his abilities. But I needed to save my dear squid-man. If he should die, I would die next to him.

    "For the Jedi!" I ran at the Zabrak, Force-pulled the lightsaber from Vox's belt into my outstretched hand, and clicked the activator.

    I brought a green blade down at my enemy.

    The Zabrak thrust it away from him.

    But Vox and I attacked, again and again, until the dark one went almost entirely on the defensive.
    Vox chopped off one end of the staff.

    The Zabrak, his style suddenly handicapped, leapt backward out of our reach and yelled out. A Force-push shockwave blasted outward from his body in all directions.

    I instinctively erected a spherical barrier around myself and Vox, protecting us from the booming waves of distorted air.

    The light guantlets vanished from Vox's arms and he groaned, sinking to his knees.

    The barrier collapsed. I crouched down beside my master and pressed a hand to his front to support him.

    "That. . . that is all I have to give, child."

    "Stay put. I can deal with him." I kissed a tip of his diamond-shaped head crown and rose back up.

    I gripped the hilt of my new weapon in both hands and began walking for the Zabrak. "Why are you here?"

    The demonic man, pointing his crimson blade down at his side, frowned at me. He took his free fingers, pressed them to his throat, and shook his head. He mouthed words, but nothing came out.

    I stopped a bit out of his immediate reach. "You are mute?"

    He nodded.

    "If that is so, how did you manage to roar like a beast when you first attacked us?"

    The man reared his head back and roared again. The echo must have carried for kilometers.

    "Let's put our weapons away," I said, feeling some sympathy for him. "You could draw a picture in the dust to explain yourself. I want to learn more about you, if you'd allow it."

    I translated his next look to mean that he was partly mute, but intelligent enough to be insulted at my offer.

    "The Dark Side lures, corrupts, and destroys." I parroted what Meetra had once said to our class. "You may wield anger to great effect, but at the cost of your soul's integrity. Emotions leading to destructive acts exact their destruction first in the heart."

    The Zabrak raised his weapon and grimaced.

    "Turn away from the darkness, friend. For your own sake."

    He growled. . . and swiped at me.

    I leaned out of his reach.

    He huffed, kicked at the ground, and charged, flying into a fit of empty-headed attacks.

    Then it happened. Jedi from the Enclave drew nearer. I felt their promise of relief to come. And somehow I understood that I was taking the right course by physically defending myself and only attacking through words. The truth clouded the Zabrak's mind, overcoming the focus of the Dark Side previously gave him.

    "Your path leads to the final death." I constantly moved my blade in response to his amateurish onslaught, the Force and my own muscle memory automating the defense. "You shall fall into oblivion, lose everything you were or ever would be. Is that worth the abilities you flaunt? The power that fails you even as we fight here and now?"

    The Zabrak suddenly went rigid. His lightsaber dropped from his grasp and deactivated when it hit a rock. My defeated enemy fell backward.

    Sensing a new presence, I looked to the edge of a plateau. Meetra Surik and several Jedi Masters had arrived.

    I clipped Vox's hilt to my belt and bowed at the waist to the rescue team.

    Meetra stepped off the edge of the plateau and floated down an otherwise treacherous height, like a specter at nightfall, her short platinum hair, robe leggings and cloak tail moving as though submerged in liquid. The other Jedi followed her method. She made running motions before her feet touched the ground and a few seconds later we shared a brief hug and pecks on the cheeks. Vandar, floating in a hover-seat, broke from the group with Leston to check on Vox still lying unconscious.

    "Meetra," Vrook said. "How long can you suppress his connection to the Force?"

    "However long it takes to keep her safe."

    "Get started."

    Vrook telekinetically levitated the fainted Zabrak a few feet from the ground and Meetra walked to the alien's side where she raised her head, spread her arms, and closed her eyes, as though a priestess consecrating a sacrifice. An elderly Jedi in the company pointed at a tree, twitched his bony fingers, and summoned vines from the branches which snaked over and began wrapping around our prisoner.

    I made for Vandar, Leston, and Vox. My master now stood and recounted his experience. "He was highly trained." I stopped beside him. He glanced down to the saber clipped to my belt and opened his hand in front of me.

    I relinquished the weapon.

    Vandar made a pleased sound. "Yet Bastila pierced through the Sith's willpower with the blade of truth. You have taught her well."

    In my heart, I gave the credit to Meetra Surik.
     
  16. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    7.5




    HK-47: Amendment. To audience. My mistress is given to hypochondria and histrionics. A medical professional has determined that the pain she suffered at the beginning of Entry Four was a side-effect of constipation, now cured. Master estimates that his wife's sagging, withered body will go on functioning for years to come.

    [BASTILA HOBBLES INTO QUARTERS, DRESSED IN ROBE EMBROIDERED WITH PLANT DESIGNS.]

    BASTILA: Come, HK. Let's continue my story.

    HK-47: Question. How much longer must you torment me with your pedestrian prose?

    BASTILA: That attitude is why you are my editor.

    HK-47: Observation. You veto every edit I attempt.

    BASTILA: Thus far, but we've a long way to go.

    Is this where I listen to you ramble about how I'm wasting your lethal talents? It was adorable at first, but I think it'd tire me now.

    [SHE ENTERS CLOSET, SLIDES OUT OF SHOES]

    HK-47: Declaration. Henceforth, I will insert disclaimers to the audience between entries and list discrepancies in your claims.

    [SHE LIFTS WIG OF LONG BRAIDED HAIR FROM HER HEAD, PLACES IT OVER MANIKIN HEAD ON SHELF. HER TRUE HAIR IS SHORTER AND WISPIER.]

    BASTILA: I suppose that's reasonable. They're subject to deletion at my word, though.

    [SHE WALKS FOR BED. LIFTS GLASS OF WINE FROM NIGHT-STAND IN TREMBLING HAND, TAKES THREE SIPS. RETURNS GLASS. SHE SINKS DOWN ONTO EDGE OF BED, HER SPINE POPPING REPEATEDLY. HOW DOES IT NOT BREAK?]

    BASTILA: Begin recording. The Republic Archive stores bits of deception, however reputable and well-meaning its stewards, that spread across a populace eager to speculate and then believe in what amounts to fables. Some historians uphold that my talents were in the art of seduction, that I often exploited the Force along with my personal charms to beckon warriors, many among the enemy, to valiantly fight for my selfish causes.

    [SHE PUTS LOWER BODY UNDER SHEET AND BLANKET, RESTS UPPER BODY ON PILE OF PILLOWS.]

    The first supposed example happened during the First Circle event on Dantooine, wherein I'm said to have indulged a Sith Zabrak's sexual desires in exchange for classified intel. Brace yourselves.

    I did, in fact, do that. I'm not overly proud of the power I exercised over men and women alike, human or Zabrak.

    HK-47: Interjection. That last entry directly contradicts your psychological profile. Assuming, of course, that creating a self-insert fantasy wasn't your intention.

    Statement. Perhaps my master can clarify this. Though I would hesitate to ask.

    - - - - - - - - - -


    I planned a scene similar to this before even starting on the story, but didn't know how to tackle it. Tonight I was struck with inspiration and typed that out.

    The plot outline remains largely the same, including the point of Bastila's "final choice". But the story feels, at least to me, more in line with KotOR.

    Catch you soon! @};-
     
  17. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    Chapter 7

    The fight scene could have been a complete miss. There are not many authors who can pull out writing almost every sentence on a new line, get the pacing and the action right. However, you did it! I can only imagine the level of concentration necessary, with all the onlookers involved. o_O

    "Try to be positive," she sang. "You'll always have those cute dimples." - If this isn't bitchy, I don't know what is. :p

    "Go back to the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Marry a nice Hutt." - Those would be some very specific goals.

    Seems like these Jedi Padawans are really, really failing at suppressing their emotions. Bastilla herself seems to be on the verge of turning, with her pride and power obsession. A nice parallel to those dreaded deadly sins - with or without a deity, that transcends galaxies.

    A Zabrak man in black robes, wielding a double-bladed lightsaber, leapt from the cliff edge a dozen meters above us, aimed to land in our midst.. - This is where I am stupid. Is this a Protomaul of sorts, or an actual character from the KOTOR era?

    The whole confrontation with the said Zabrak was great. His growls, as opposed to talking, as a representation of anger that led him to the Dark side and completely corrupted him. Bastilla swinging back and forth from Dark to Light. The Nomi-esque Force barrier. Bastilla criticising the Dark side while being Dark herself. Still a kid, still unreasonable.

    And, of course, Meetra appears to use another not-so-light Power.Knowing how Light she really is compared to everybody else from her era in canon and that she used this power on herself, first and foremost...I am even more intrigued to see where this will go.



    Chapter 7.5

    Breaking the fourth wall...that sure came out of nowhere. Loved every single letter of it, every single Bit.

    Master estimates that his wife's sagging, withered body will go on functioning for years to come. - If this is canon in your AU (!), I guess the original pairing is still there. And hmmm...if HK-47 is the one Bastilla is telling her life to, then I guess that's where some extremely cynical moments come from.

    Well-played!
     
    metophlus and Findswoman like this.
  18. bellatroll

    bellatroll Jedi Knight star 1

    Registered:
    Feb 21, 2013
    Meh. I don't like it. Makes it harder to follow the story.

    But otherwise I think it's great. I rather like the Bastila you're creating.
     
    metophlus likes this.
  19. Ewok Poet

    Ewok Poet Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Jul 31, 2014
    I have strabismus and concentration issues, this makes me appreciate beauty of each single line. Things that annoy me in stories are usually said bookisms or any kind of dialogue tags on every or nearly every single line, verb + adverb as the only form of creative writing and purple prose. This story has none of that. ;) But perhaps this is a discussion for someplace else...that style thread we never made.
     
    metophlus likes this.
  20. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    I'm more experienced at writing comic book scripts than prose. Every sentence or two in an action scene is a "panel" for me, translating to a paragraph.

    =D !

    A fun story in the making!

    I agree. It's a miracle or character contrivance that she was still on the Light Side when KotOR begins.

    He's a Protomaul, as you put it. I pay homage to the PT sometimes.

    She lectures to herself as she lectures to others. :)

    Meetra will sadly use an upgraded version of that power on herself before long.

    I would've used Female Revan, but then I'd be alienating people in an already niche readership. *shrugs*

    Thanks for the review, Ewok Poet.
     
    Ewok Poet likes this.
  21. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015

    Please stick around. :)
     
    Ewok Poet likes this.
  22. Findswoman

    Findswoman Fanfic and Pancakes and Waffles Mod (in Pink) star 5 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Feb 27, 2014
    May I stake out this space for a review of chapters 7 and 7.5? Sorry I'm a bit late to the game—I've been traveling—but I hope to be caught up soon. :)

    Edit: And... ready!



    7
    Seconding the praise of the combat scene. I personally had been iffy about the one-sentence to a paragraph approach at first, but I find it actually helps a lot for a combat scene, which in my opinion can get too bogged down if it's just block paragraph after block paragraph of action. Very nice job keeping things moving. =D= Is it true that Bastila's using a bit of a battle meditation-like technique there toward the end to dampen Sidlanger's morale? (Also, cool moments of "insult swordfighting" à la Monkey Island.)

    It's interesting to see Bastila go from her "dirty" ad Dark-Side-tinged duel with Sidlanger to a totally different kind of battle with the mysterious mute Zabrak, where she takes over from the wounded Vox as the mysterious foe's potential redeemer. She may have "pierced [his] willpower with the blade of truth," at least for now, but we shall have to see whether that will hold in the long term, and of course this is probably only the beginning of a new story arc. I bet there's some history behind him and his... nonverbal mode of self-expression, and I am curious as to whether we'll see him again. (Like Ewok Poet, I'd been wondering if he was an OC or a canonical character.)

    7.5
    Hah! HK is such a riot—it's always a treat to read about him. :D And cool to get a glimpse into the process by which this autobiography is being created in-universe. Knowing that he's Bastila's editor/amanuensis does give some new perspective to this whole story. I can't help but wonder whether the Zabrak Sith that Bastila mentions here is the same one that she met in chapter 7—whether it s or not, I'm now a bit morbidly curious about that, um, incident. [face_thinking] And do I sense a bit of a humble-brag in her comment about the power she has over men, women, etc.? :p

    And now just a general question about your approach. You said in an earlier post that you find female personalities more intriguing than male ones, and I'm curious to know more about what that means for you in your writing.
     
    metophlus and Ewok Poet like this.
  23. bellatroll

    bellatroll Jedi Knight star 1

    Registered:
    Feb 21, 2013

    I will if you continue the story :D
     
  24. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Thank you. People do tend to lose track of their place in overly-long paragraphs to begin with.

    I'd call it a form of one-on-one Battle Meditation, yeah. :)

    I've heard of Monkey Island, but never played it.

    We'll see a lot of him in the next entry! And you're right, this is the first major event of the "First Circle" arc.

    His place of origin is important to future stories I hope to write someday.

    You got it! She aged into a self-conceited old woman. But thankfully, HK has helped keep this to a minimum in the manuscript.

    I've been thinking on this for days now. And I'm going to need days more to arrive at the satisfying explanation you deserve. Bear with me.
     
    Findswoman and Ewok Poet like this.
  25. metophlus

    metophlus Jedi Padawan star 2

    Registered:
    Jun 30, 2015
    Entry Eight




    Vandar, Leston, Meetra, Vox, and I stood around our prisoner in the sealed training room. The Zabrak was now bound by his wrists, ankles, and head to a tall cushioned chair where he sat leaning back. Meetra had pointed out that even though she had pinched his connection to the Force, he could possibly steal the information we wanted from him. He mumbled incoherently as he regained consciousness. A medical droid, hovering several feet above, swept a holo-field up and down the Zabrak's body, then used a tool-laden but slender appendage to open his right lids and spray a fine mist on his eyeball.

    He blinked, tried turn his head either way, scowled, and darted his gaze to each of us.

    "Why did you attack a Jedi Knight and his padawan?" Vandar floated in his seat.

    I tried to peer into the Zabrak's mind to detect an image associated with the answer and met with his speedily-erected mental shield that kept me out. I continued pressing my focus. Vandar repeated the question. I felt the wills of the others push against the shield and feel along its surface for cracks as I did the same.

    "Who ordered you to kill them?" Meetra added to the interrogation. "Show us who you serve."

    His feelings of hatred, initially dulled by the chemicals, pulsated like an infected organ.

    A long while passed. We carried on our efforts to intrude upon his mind and heart, softening our offense only when his emotions flared hotly.

    Cracks began to form in his barrier. Mists seeped through and entered my mind. I retained my good sense as I tapped along the telepathic surface and whispered the obvious questions. But more of the mist subtly contaminated my feelings. I felt foggy, tingly, somehow excited.

    I slithered my consciousness away from the other Jedi, fearing they might sense my losing battle. Wanting to taste more of this Zabrak, I pressed against an especially rage-heated spot with a desperate strength, broke through and delved into his soul.

    An alien anger clashed against my desire for power and we poured over into each other. Our two storms boiled, stirred together, became a sinister pleasure that the Sith and I both felt.

    "Trust me. Tell me everything. . ."

    "Why did you attack her?" Meetra asked, a cold edge to her raised voice. "Tell me."

    The Zabrak broke free of his bondage with new-found super-strength and gave a battle cry in both the physical and spiritual plains.

    A most intense euphoria overtook me. My muscles seized for a few heartbeats of thoughtlessness. . . then I slackened and sank to the floor. His memory became my dream, vivid insomuch I felt a phantom viewing events as they happened.

    The familiar Sith knelt in front of a woman dressed in ornate robes and a hood. A cloth covered her eyes. She raked her talons down a horn and set her hand on his scalp. "Survive this quest and I promise you shall lead armies to your home planet in the Unknown Regions to destroy the final great evil of our era."

    The image shifted. The Miraluka stood in a circle of light at the edge of which stood robed figures. "The girl is destined to nurture this masked Dark Lord back to their original power and beyond. Her life is fatal to the Jedi Order, the Republic, the peace of the galaxy at large. The First Circle must act."

    "Jedi Masters guard her every day," the speaker was a male present via hologram. He moved his head and I caught sight of his handsome young face. "It would take months of meticulous planning to exact the assassination and make a clean escape. Someone among us must accept what amounts to a suicide mission."

    "I have cause in my civilian life to visit Dantooine," said a female with a tail of long, white hair set over her bosom.
    "They mistrust you," the Miraluka said. "But perhaps you could act in accordance with your public tasks while at the same time clearing a path for the member who's to kill the target."

    "Most wise, First Seer." The white-haired woman bowed her head.

    "My comrade and I are quite occupied with the war," the handsome holo-man said. "May I suggest our recovering Sith acolyte? He's itching for a duel."

    A Zabrak stepped into the circle of light. "First Seer. I beg you to send me. I want to be the warrior who drops Bastila Shan's head at your feet."

    I found myself sitting on the floor, sweating and disheveled, hair loose at my shoulders.

    The four Jedi joined hands in a circle and Force-pushed the single Sith at their center, creating an invisible bubble that distorted the air.

    I got up and rushed to behind Meetra's shoulder.

    The Zabrak stood atop the chair, his knees bent far, his arms stretched out to either side with hands flat. His robes were tattered from the explosion he had used to break from the binders. Perspiration dribbled down his torso, down rippled muscles, throbbing veins, and tribal tattoos. He raised his horned head and looked me in my eyes.
    I shook my head, pleading with him on the inside to give up the fight.

    He triggered a Force-explosion. Meetra staggered back into me, Leston flew across the room, Vandar's levitating chair spun, and Vox skidded backward on his feet.

    The Zabrak reached out and Force-pulled Leston's weapon to himself while the Twi'lek was still in the air. But as the hilt reached his hand, Meetra had activated her lightsaber and bolted forward. She shoved the blade into his sternum.
    The fight was over and we soon gathered at the body of our dead foe. I looked down at him and felt neausious, freshly remembering the intimate psychic moments we had shared together when he had been so brimming with passionate life. He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open, face frozen in hatred for the galaxy.

    "We wasted hours interrogating it to learn nothing." Vox turned and strode out of the training room, the portal closing behind him as we watched in resignation.

    I had to share a few pieces of the what little I had learned from those hours. "I absorbed a memory from the Zabrak." They snapped to attention, all hooked by my words. "He was doing the bidding of a group called the First Circle, and he had the help of a co-conspirator. A woman visiting the planet, maybe the Enclave itself, while on official business."

    Vrook broke the following seconds of silent confusion. "Odd that you are the only one among us who found this memory."

    Meetra's voice was soft and hopeful. "Why did you say she may have visited the Enclave?"

    "It makes sense that she would try to occupy the masters during the assassination attempt. I'm typically within a few kilometers of what amounts to a Jedi army."

    Meetra became thoughtful and said, "The masters did fill out requisitions forms and bartered some artifacts with representatives from Coruscant. It's an annual affair."

    "Business went as planned." Leston raised his arms in surrender. "Nothing out of the ordinary happened until we collectively sensed a spike in the Dark Side and came running to your aid."

    I cleared my throat and dared to adopt a more commanding tone. "We need to study the manifests of every ship that landed here yesterday."

    Meetra glanced from Vandar to Vrook. "That could be done. Security teams in the orbital stations board and closely search every ship set to land at the Enclave, then send the manifests to us."

    Vrook waved his hands out as if clearing a table of nonsense. "This lead is a waste of time. Do we truly want to search for a co-conspirator that may be imaginary? Say she does exist. She failed miserably to distract the Council." Vrook treated students or newly-appointed padawans as troublesome youth below the concerns of actual Jedi. But I thought he was acting more defensive than ordinary, and when I tried to peer at his spirit, I found his feelings hidden. My enemies and allies alike concealed a great many things from me those days.

    "Bastila's passions flare hotly at times, but she is true to the ideals of the Order," Vandar said. "She tends toward honestly. Let's put trust in her claim and follow this lead to its conclusion."

    I smiled on the inside as I bowed to Master Vandar, appreciative of his reasonable mind.

    - - -

    The time was early morning when Meetra and Leston went outside to cremate the Sith's corpse and I went for my quarters wanting a couple hours of sleep. I lay down and drifted into relaxing emptiness when the clear, distinct voice of a woman sounded in my skull. "Wake, girl."

    "Who are you?" I kept my voice low, for I shared this room with several other girls. I sat up and stretched my alertness to fill the room in order to detect some foreign life waiting in the deep shadows.

    "The Council hides a secret that you deserve to know. Rise and follow your feelings."

    "Why should I heed strange voices?"

    "You sensed the Jedi deceiving you tonight. Go down to the archives and witness the weakness of the Order."

    I slid my feet over the side of the bed and set them firmly on the floor, readying myself for action. "The masters forbid their students from entering the archives. Young minds are too soft to confront the knowledge contained there." A fellow student next to me grumbled in her sleep.

    "Quiet. I opened the doors for you."

    "You used whatever is down there to distract the Jedi, yes?"

    The voice left me. Awake and my senses prematurely sharp, I stepped on the blades of my feet for the door and left into the corridor, keeping low and close to the wall as I made for the archives. While the establishment permitted students to travel the hallways at night and morning, I wanted to stay in shadow in case anything went wrong and a witness could point to me as having been in the corridor at the time. Voices spoke in the courtyard among the chirp of nocturnal insects, but this area was vacant. At least that's what I thought until I spotted a heap on the floor between myself and the archive entrance.

    I crept closer, anxiety growing, and stopped when I found it to be the body of a male human Jedi who I recognized as an exercise instructor. Sinister possibilities instantly polluted my mind. What if the voice belonged to a murderer who wanted to implement me in their crime? I shook away those thoughts and took a deep breath, touching my index and middle fingers to the man's neck. Seconds ticked by with me believing him dead, then at last I felt a faint pulse.
    I stepped over him and jogged for the doors which were indeed cracked open. I slid my fingers into the gap between the dual panels and used my upper body strength to wrench them open far enough for my body to squeeze through. Luckily, the mechanism was quiet.

    I entered at the head of stairs leading into an ink-dark room, closed the entrance behind me, and felt the walls for switch. Finding none while precious seconds left, I sighed and bit my lip. There was one technique for Force-light that I had practiced sporadically in the past years. But I was horrible at sustaining it. Sometimes the brain chemicals brought on stress served as the best meditation aid. I elevated my open, upward-facing right palm a couple feet in front of my face and exhaled my self-doubts, but let the urgency of my situation motivate me. The Force tingled in my stomach, spread to my chest, spidered to the muscles in my arms. I visualized a ball of soft light. And the light sprang into existence a few inches over my palm. I descended the steps, even while my conjured light-source flickered like a flame in the wind.

    Many dozens of shelves lined the space below at either side of an aisle. Hundreds? The way forward was pitch black, and the corners and walls were lost as well. A hover-stand floated in a random spot, used for raising a master to the upper reaches of the library. I drew closer to a shelf and saw categorized stacks of parchment protected by transparent casing. Daring a deeper journey, I passed many stands to a section holding hide-bound tomes, covers cracked and pages frayed. And then further yet I discovered rows of twelve-sided artifacts the size of my fist, made of an alien material that shimmered like water. My Force-light flickered out and I plunged to darkness.

    The voice came from nearby in the cavern, rather than inside my head. "Last evening, the Jedi traded educational tools with the archivists of the Coruscant temple." A new light sparked that made twinkle and sparkle the crystal heiroglyphs on the faces of holocrons. A ghost of a hooded woman, long silver hair framing her robed bosom, held a light in one clawed hand and motioned for me with the other.

    I took one step and my foot crunched on something. A shard. All around me in the faint glow were shattered holocrons and leaves of parchment. A charred scent reached my nostrils. I navigated half-blind through the waste toward the woman, but halted meters in front of her on the chance she would attack.

    "Vrook opened a holocron, believing it to have belonged to a bygone Jedi. It contained the spirit of a Sith Lord, who went on a rampage here in the archive. The masters combined their efforts and banished the spirit into oblivion, only then sensing that you were in danger." She eased toward me, somehow quiet as death.

    "Stay back," I stammered. "I'm renowned as a skilled fighter." Why hadn't she tried to kill me ?

    "They were ashamed at the loss of artifacts containing valuable knowledge." She continued on and stopped within arm's reach. "And so they lied to you."

    I backed away, but tripped on a hard fragment and my butt landed on smooth floor. "Why are you telling me this?"
    She held herself confidently, face cast in shadow, her head bent ever-so down to acknowledge my lower place.

    "Several disciplined minds were needed to contain one Dark Side spirit. Powerful Jedi exhausted themselves on the task. What does that tell you?"

    "The Dark Side is more powerful?" The implication, I told myself, came from my need to tell her what she wanted to hear. I could think of an escape plan while she rambled.

    "No. Light blinds those who walk in the deepest shadows. You would do well to dabble in the whole of the Force before something comes along to put you at an utter disadvantage. Embrace a wider view."

    "You wanted me dead, but now here you are giving me a philosophical lesson." I was well-trained in the martial art of argument.

    "The First Circle wants you dead. Perhaps they are correct and perhaps they are not. We shall see." The light went out.

    I crawled backward on all-fours, then stood, turned, and ran for the exit.
     
    Admiral Volshe and Ewok Poet like this.