Before the Saga Schism--Complete

Woohoo, she's so goood! And as a hugger myself, I can relate to the squeezing the breath out of a person! I think Hilaal's won some new friends and not a few honest admirers.

 

I know, it's so good to give real hugs. Not that I give them out to just anybody. But I can't stand the fake "OMG we almost touched chests while I limply patted your back!" Well, unless I don't like the person. Then it's ok. Thanks for reading!

You get an update today because I've got a small trip tomorrow. Thanks for reading everybody!

The crowd roared as she climbed to the top of the stage once again. She did her best to ignore them and spent the time trying to refocus herself. Her eyes barely focused but she was able to make out the banner above the other fan club. They had crossed out “Anyone but Hilaal Yuchee” and someone had scrawled in “Grotto Ghuuthic” along with some stylized lightsabers. She smiled, glad that some things at least, would never change. As long as she was alive, someone wasn’t going to like her.

Hilaal plucked her training lightsaber hilt from Master Grii’s grasp and took a few deep, calming breaths that centered her. She was still surprised to be at the final duel. Honestly she hadn’t expected to make it this far.

“Hilaal, are you ready?”

“Yes Master.”

“Grotto?”

The young man seemed far less nervous than she was. Still, he ran a hand through his shaggy hair as he spoke. “I’m ready too, Master.”

The old Jedi nodded and raised his hands for silence, which he promptly got. “My friends, it’s time. I recommend getting your high-speed holo-cams ready, because this is going to be something you’re going to watch over and over. Would the duelists please take their positions!”

Hilaal and Grotto took their places about five meters apart and bowed deeply to each other. As he extended his orange blade, she remembered how skilled a combatant he was, and how easily he had vanquished his other opponents. She forced herself to relax, suddenly glad that their weapons weren’t the real things. Purple energy shot out of her lightsaber as she prepared herself for a difficult battle.

Grotto charged in, his blade a dizzying whirl of orange light as it stabbed and circled around her. For several minutes they traded blows incessantly, falling into an unpredictable pattern of attacking, evading and counterattacking. He stepped in closely and launched another incredible series of blows that taxed her defenses to the extreme. Nearly desperate to keep up with the multitude of attacks, Hilaal blocked and evaded, finally forced to take a long step backwards. She sensed he was going to follow, so she tensed her body as though ready to leap backwards again. She reversed the hold on her lightsaber so that the butt of her hilt was forward and the blade was parallel to her elbow. Instead of leaping away, as he leapt towards her, she ducked low and jumped towards him, blade perpendicular to her body and the butt of the hilt supported by her left hand.

He was stupefied when her blade tapped firmly into his rib cage. It happened so fast that only those directly in tune with the Force or those with high visual acuity even had the chance to see what happened.

“Point, Purple!” Grii shouted, beginning a massive rumbling of cheers.

She barely heard them at all. Hilaal’s chest was heaving as she fought for breath and against exhaustion. She was only somewhat mollified to hear Grotto sucking wind almost as badly as she was as he went back to his starting place.

“Begin!”

Her body was nearly spent. Even the high-calorie meals she had eaten between bouts weren’t enough to replace the energy she’d used in the duels. At the moment, she was standing on adrenaline only. As soon as that faded, she was going to fall directly onto her butt. Using the energy while she still had it, Hilaal decided she better be the one who charged in this time.

Soundlessly she leapt into the fray using the sand panther’s leap. He countered, and she had to throw herself sideways to avoid Grotto’s retaliatory sidekick. Hilaal ducked under his outstretched leg and into his plant foot, blocking a lightsaber strike at the same time. However instead of pitching Grotto heavily onto his back, he used her momentum against her and rolled across her spine, able to sneak an attack into her chest before she could stand upright to avoid it.

“Point, Orange!

Again the crowd roared, many sentients stamping their feet to make more noise and cause the entire stadium shudder ominously.

“This is it, you two. Next point wins! Take your positions.”

Both of them were breathing even harder than they had been before. Hilaal grabbed the bottom of her tunic and un-tucked it from her pants, using the edge of her shirt to fan herself a little cool air, too tired to care that thousands of sentients could see a little skin of her stomach. Sweat drenched her entire body, even making a slick layer of moisture inside her boots despite her thick socks.

Grotto pointlessly wiped the forearm of his tunic across his forehead, not realizing until it was too late that his shirt was just as wet as his face.

Almost simultaneously, both combatants wiped their sweaty hands on the driest part of their pants that they could find. Realizing they had done the same thing at the same time, they shot each other a sympathizing grin before returning their hands to their training lightsabers and returning to a guard position.

“Go!”

Hilaal’s adrenaline was starting to fade, now, and she felt like she had no reserves left. As Grotto approached her again, his blade seemed a little less fluid than before. She deflected the blow, but doing so expended more effort than it had previously. Her tired arms wanted to let the blade drop. Sensing her flagging strength, he redoubled his effort on offense. As the attacks rained in, Hilaal could barely block them, able to counterattack with the most meager parries. Dodging seemed more and more difficult as she was forced to shift her body in awkward ways, but she was unwilling to give in to her weakness.

Hilaal received a surge of strength from deep inside her, enabling her to attack in earnest. After a particularly wily blow that she blocked with parting the waterfall, she threw herself completely into the river of the Force. Almost of its own volition, her stances shifted, becoming more solid. Her arms that had been shaking with effort suddenly felt a little energy flow through them. She launched into a brutal pair of hawk-bat’s flights, striking at alternating shoulders—left, right, left, right, left. As she lifted her purple blade to strike again, she feinted, causing him to automatically protect the right side. Instead, she drove her weapon down on his left shoulder. Though there was only a moderate amount of strength behind the attack, it was sufficient enough to drive Grotto onto the ground with a grunt.

The last of her surge of strength gave out and she followed him to the floor, practically landing on his lap.

“Final point to Hilaal Yuchee! She is this year’s winner!”

The crowd roared into action, hooting and hollering, clapping appendages together more loudly than anything she had heard thus far. To Hilaal’s eardrums that had been in pain all day from the enthusiasm of the crowd, that was saying quite a lot.

Master Grii was shouting something to the stands, ignoring both of the exhausted students as they struggled to extract themselves from their unresponsive and tangled limbs. They didn’t even have the strength to speak; all they could do was exchange embarrassed smiles and struggle limply to retrieve their body parts. At the moment she didn’t care that she had won. All she wanted to do was stand on her own two feet and stop looking so helpless.

Finally, Grii noticed their difficulties and hauled both of them to their feet. When he let them go, their legs were so wobbly that they staggered around for a couple of steps and accidentally collided together. Even though they were mortified to be stuck together again, they realized that they weren’t going to be able to stand without each other’s assistance.

Grotto grabbed Hilaal’s hand and lifted it to the sky, proclaiming her victory for her, sending another surge of cheering from every sentient in the massive building. Unable to stand the embarrassment, she wrenched her hand free. Though it almost dumped her onto her nose, she bowed very low to her opponent, and then again to Master Grii.

“Do you have anything to say to your multitudes of fans?” Grii asked her, shoving a voice amplifier into her face.

“Um. Thanks, I guess.”

There was a burst of laughter from all sides.

“By all rights, Grotto should have won, he fought so well. Uh, honestly I haven’t figured out how he lost, I’m still in shock.”

He hobbled forward to object. “My opponent is too modest,” he announced to the crowd, prompting another bout of chuckling. “You beat me with pure ability and hard training, Hilaal. You deserved the victory.”

She blushed furiously, trying to hide her face. “You honor me too much,” Hilaal said. “I don’t know what else to say.” Completely flabbergasted that she was doing it, she reached over and hugged the huge figure of Grotto, her nose coming barely to the middle of his chest.

As his arms wrapped gently around her, the crowd clapped on.

Master Grii left them to their friendly embrace and addressed the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. At tomorrow evening’s banquet, we’ll honor all this year’s competitors and award Hilaal with her trophy blade. Make sure you tune in to the holo-network for the tournament’s closing ceremonies.”

As the crowd screamed in pleasure again, Pelt came running onto the stage and practically tore his apprentice out of Grotto’s arms and raised her as high as he could. Suddenly the stage was beset with Hilaal’s fans as they lifted both Master and Padawan onto their shoulders and carried them out of the coliseum. As they marched away from the stadium, the size of the crowd snarled land traffic, creating an impromptu parade along the streets leading back into the Jedi Temple.

 

Superb conclusion and sincere responses from the combatants and audience. I can just believe Hilaal will sleep for a week now!

 

Oops, I fell behind on reviewing again

I loved how, in the last two entries, you built the two groups in the crowd -- those cheering for Hilaal, and those opposing her out of respect more than anything else. “The little Jedi who could” has such an awwww factor, and Antho is really, really a good kid and at the same time, it's nice to see Hilaal grow in self-confidence and understand that those who cheer for her opponents don't do so out of meanness.

I also loved how tiny little Hilaal was able to nearly crush Pelt with her hug. She's a lot stronger than she thinks

The other bit I loved in the duel with Grotto is how, at the moment when she feels she is about to collapse, she realises (consciously or unconsciously) that she can rely on the Force in addition to her swordsmanship skills. I suspect that this was the point of the whole exercise for Yoda and the other masters -- that she needs to understand that she should have confidence in her Force abilities as well, as "limited" as she may think they are.

She learned a lot today. And, well, she's just so good

 

Thank you very much! And...it's funny you should mention that, since the next chapter sorta starts out as you said...

I really appreciate your words here. It's awesome, it gives me desire to write more. Hilaal is tougher than anybody would ever have thought, even a few months ago. And she's gonna need to get a long stronger to make it.

Here we go, next chunk!

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Pelt said, shaking her shoulder lightly.

Fully encased in her warm sheets, Hilaal still felt like she could sleep for a week. “Go away,” she murmured, though her vocal chords were so muddled, her words probably came out incomprehensible.

“C’mon.” He wrenched the sheets out of her hands and flung them off of her, exposing her to the seemingly cool air. “You’ve slept long enough.”

She glared daggers at him as she remained curled up, trying to keep in all the body heat she could. “Twenty minutes is long enough?” She punctuated her outrage with a jaw-popping yawn.

“Twenty minutes?” Pelt laughed and crouched beside her head. “No, Young one, it’s been sixteen hours. It’s only two hours until the start of the banquet in your honor. I would be a terrible Master if I let you miss out on your fifteen minutes of fame.”

The shock of being asleep for so long was enough to make her sit up suddenly and start rubbing the grit out of her eyes. “Sixteen hours? No way.” She glanced at the chrono on the wall that verified what Pelt had just said. “This has to be some sort of trick.”

“No trick,” he announced, grinning. “Though your fan club has come by several times to show you the decorations they’re adding to your table.”

Hilaal groaned. “I thought I’d go back to being anonymous.”

“Not yet, my Padawan. Not yet. Maybe in a couple days after the ceremonies, if you’re lucky. I wouldn’t count on it, though.”

She grunted as she dropped her bare feet onto the carpet and stiffly shuffled into the ‘fresher, dragging clean clothes on the ground behind her. When Hilaal unlocked the door half an hour later, she was just starting the process of getting her hair to stand up straight.

“I’m going to need to see Horhey soon, my roots are starting to show,” she said, sensing Pelt working on something at his desk.

She heard him chuckle warmly. “Nothing would please him more, I’m sure. Something tells me that his business is going to boom beyond any hairdresser in all of Coruscant when word gets out you’re his client.”

“Give me a break,” she scoffed, still concentrating on making her hair just right.

When she finally finished, she stood in the middle of their small room and held her arms out straight for inspection. “How do I look?”

Pelt grinned as he circled around her once. “Real good,” he said, brushing a tiny piece of lint off the forest green fold of her tunic. He caressed her matching trousers with the Force, taking out some barely visible wrinkles. “What about me?”

She rolled her eyes, taking in the light brown folds of his wraparound tunic. “Isn’t tan a little too…mundane for you?” Even the dark belt was rather ordinary, though it was Jedi ordinary, which meant that it was dotted by various pouches containing survival gear. And of course his lightsaber dangled comfortably from his left hip.

He shrugged. “It’s my new image. I’m going to let my Padawan do all the showing off from here on out.”

“You look fine,” she told him, shaking her head slightly.

“Good. Here’s the finishing touch to your outfit.” He handed her a long belt made of what seemed to be reflective scales. Every time the scales caught the light, they appeared to be a different shade of either purple or green.

“Wow, this is neat. Thanks!” she said as she buckled the heavy thing around her waist. It took more effort to make it sit right, because the various pouches seemed to be full of typical “just in case” equipment, even though the belt probably hadn’t been taken out of the Temple for hundreds of years. She fingered the lightsaber fasteners at both ends briefly before hooking her weapon into the left loop.

“So what happens n—” she began asking before being interrupted by a knock at the door.
“You get it,” Pelt told her. “It’s probably your fan club anyway.”
She rolled her eyes at him again, hoping it was anybody but them.
“Good evening, Padawan,” Master Grii said as the door slid open. “And to you as well, Pelt.”

“Master,” Hilaal replied, bowing.

“If you’re ready, it’s time to head to the banquet.”

Hilaal glanced at Pelt, who nodded and handed her the midnight blue robes she liked the best, draping the matching one around his own shoulders. “We’re ready,” she said as she shrugged into the robes. “Let’s go.”


The three of them stood in front of the two polished wooden doors that lead into the hall. The giant doors were closed as they usually were, but they seemed even more foreboding than usual.

She didn’t realize how big the banquet hall really was. She had passed the room many times, since it took up nearly an entire floor on its own, but she never stopped to think about it before. It easily stretched hundreds of meters from one end to the other.

“I will go in first,” Grii told them. “Hilaal, you’ll be behind me, with Pelt where he belongs at the back of the line.”

Pelt grinned with a shrug. “I didn’t do anything, so I’m honored to be included at all.”

Master Grii gave him an unreadable glance before turning his attention back to the door. With a heavy hand, he pounded hard on the wood causing a trio of reverberating deep booms to echo through the hallway.

The doors were opened smoothly by the power of the Force. As they soundlessly swung outward on their hinges, Hilaal saw the row upon row of Jedi, at least six deep on either side. They were all standing at attention on both sides of the rich brown carpeting, creating a wall of primarily humanoid bodies that made a direct path to the far end of the giant room. On either side of the strip of brown carpet, beyond the first row of Jedi, the flooring changed to a much lighter tan color, though was still just as luxurious. After a quick examination, it seemed Jedi were the only ones permitted at the banquet.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of tables dotted the room in a highly organized fashion, with ten chairs surrounding each round table. Fancy tablecloths and napkins made to look like animals sat perfectly at each place, flanked by intricately made silverware. Chrome pitchers dripping little globes of condensing water sat in the middle of the tables. Some of the pitchers steamed, suggesting warmed wine.

“The champion of the tournament requests access!” Master Grii shouted to the back of the room.

“She may come,” Master Pul replied, his voice carrying despite his softer tone.

“Follow me,” Grii whispered, beginning the long walk to the end of the room.

Hilaal was close at his heels, doing his best to keep from turning red. As they walked, hovering holo-net cams circled her, each trying to get a better view of her striding down the carpet. She got dizzy trying to keep her eyes on the blinking drones, so after a few dozen steps she ignored them.

The whines of their small repulsorlifts were almost the only sounds in the entire room. Try as she might, she could barely hear the breathing of all the sentients around her, with the soft exception of the non-oxygen breathers who had positioned themselves and their loud breathing apparatuses in the back of the rows, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

At the end of the two hundred meter walk, there was a gathering of Jedi, with Yoda standing in the front. Several Masters that Hilaal didn’t know flanked the small green Master, wearing their finest robes and supportive smiles. She bowed, generically trying to acknowledge them all without having to bow to each of them individually. As one, they nodded serenely, accepting and returning her earnest respect. Surprising her by stepping out of the crowd, her final opponent from yesterday’s contest moved to the forefront of the line, standing with his back towards her.

Master Yoda withdrew the ceremonial lightsaber from his robes. Slowly it levitated towards Grotto who bowed deeply before accepting it gently like a piece of ancient treasure.

“Your Jedi family congratulates you for your courage, your steadfastness, and your victory.” Grotto fell to one knee, holding the hilt over his head for Hilaal to take.

Just as carefully as it was being held, she picked the weapon up using both of her hands, cradling the warm metal delicately. At that moment, she felt pride in herself, more than she had ever felt before. Realizing that, she immediately blushed and tried to banish her pride, vowing to herself that she would not become as arrogant as her Master was—or seemed to be.

When Grotto didn’t immediately return to his feet after she had taken the hilt, she grew more uncomfortable. Though her face reddened even further, she forced herself to speak. “Er…please stand. I do not deserve such respect. Not from anyone, but least of all from you.” When he still didn’t move after a few moments, she held the lightsaber over her head with both hands in thanks and then bowed deeply to Grotto. Awkwardly she tried clipping the lightsaber to the right side of her belt. It felt odd having a counterbalancing hilt dangling on her right hip. “I am not worthy. Please.” She placed her small hands over his shoulders and tried to lift him to his feet. Fortunately he cooperated by standing, because there was no way she would have been able to budge him, if he didn’t want to be moved.

Grotto stepped back and began the applause that cascaded into a thunderous cheer and went on for several minutes. The entire time, it took Hilaal’s self control not to put her hands over her eyes in embarrassment, trying to disappear. She couldn’t stop the tears that dripped down her face, or the sudden sense of accomplishment she felt. Hilaal knew that she had worked and trained very hard. She didn’t understand how her scant training were enough to defeat those who had studied and practiced for far longer. Truly, it didn’t seem fair to the other competitors she had beaten yesterday. As the clapping continued, she began to worry and revisit the self-doubts that she had struggled with for as long as she could remember.

Why me? I’m nothing special. I deserve to be ridiculed, not praised.

The expressions of the Jedi around her were ecstatic…happy for her, oblivious to her emotional turmoil. But from behind came a presence that somehow sensed and understood her conflict.

Pelt put a big hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassurance.

~You deserve every accolade you ever get, Young one. You are my treasure, the only thing I truly have to be proud of.~

The tears dripped down her face more quickly as she felt the warm mental embrace of her Master, trying to give her strength. She cherished his support, doing her best not to start crying in earnest.

Finally, the applause died down. Yoda stepped forward, parting the Jedi who stood with him. “To the seat of honor with you, Padawan. For what remains of today, a member of the Jedi Council you are.”

As she followed the inviting arm of Master Yoda, she found her spot at the table. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she saw the pile of gifts heaped between two seats. There were two tall stacks of flimsiplast cards, at least a dozen small stuffed animals—most of them purple, of course—and as if memorialized for the ages, the wide, banner that had been hastily scrawled during the duel was draped behind her seat.

“Go Hilaal Yuchee! The little Jedi who could.” Wherever there was free space on the banner, names were neatly scripted down the side, beginning with Antho’s.

“Quite a fan club you have, hmm?” Yoda said, laughing to himself.

The Master’s voice, though quiet, sent another surge of embarrassment through her body. “Master, I’m sorry, that wasn’t my idea.”

Yoda laughed again. “Insisted I did that the banner be hung. Blame me, you should.”

Wanting to give a witty reply to Yoda’s joke, she was unable to speak around the lump in her throat and her shyness.


“Come. Now time it is for celebration.”

 

Awww, wonderful details of the acclaim and banquet. Love the banner. Pelt's warmth and support are growing I think Hilaal's blend of humility and talent will stand her in good stead. She appreciates everything she receives.

 

Catching up again and loving Pelt's and Hilaal's growth

 

Great story Love it, please let me know when you update this. Love seeing a softer side of Yoda

 

Wow, Hilaal was tired, wasn't she? Although she's probably the only one who didn't quite realise how badly tired she was.

Unmistakable signs of Peltification here

There's again a Hogwartsian vibe to the scene here, with the fancy banquet hall and the formal-yet-cheerful ceremonial touch.

Hmmm. Methinks she's finally realising that Pelt has more going for him than that first impression of pretentious vacuity.

Awww. That's so sweet! And the scene with Grotto not standing up was very touching. But this:

I absolutely love how you write Yoda in this story. It's really nice to see more of his mischievous side

 

When you have little, it's easier to appreciate the things you get. Tnank you!

Thanks EB!

Will do, thank you very much for reading!

Thank you! We knew Yoda had a mischievous side based on what he did to poor Luke's supply kit. What if he hadn't been so jaded by his experiences? It's fun to portray him in a less serious manner. And...Peltification. Awesome.

Moving on, sentients! We're about to change gears again. Or was that, change horses while riding...?

____

The food was absolutely wonderful. With Yoda sitting on her left side, and Pelt sitting on her right, she spent the next couple of hours stuffing her face and poking through all the gifts her admirers had left her. She received dozens of letters, each one written by a sentient at least a few years older than she, begging for lightsaber instruction. There were other notes, some of simple congratulations, others were long flowing poems. Hilaal did her best not to roll her eyes at most of those.

Bolstered by the food in her belly, she was able to speak with almost all the Jedi who came to congratulate her while she ate. Not good with small talk, her replies were often short, but everybody seemed to understand. The only detractions to the meal were the occasional irritated glares that Yoda gave to the empty seat at their raised table.

As she picked through the stuffed animals, she was mortified that they thought her childish enough to want something like that. Yet at the same time, she was secretly pleased. The Jedi didn’t advocate playing with dolls, but she did have one, years and years ago. Like many of the nice things she had ever been given, it had been taken and destroyed by one of her crechemates.

The purple bantha was cute, as were several of the others. But the one she liked the best was a very soft, tan-colored sand panther about the length of her forearm. It was crafted with exquisite details, including plush big fangs, black tufted ears and fully extended claws. Despite the ferocious appearance of the beast, it was very soft and huggable, which she did once when she was sure nobody was watching.

Soon, a hundred tables were cleared away to make room for a dance floor. A dozen musicians took the stage and began playing catchy tunes that made her feet tap in time to the music.

Pelt was the first one who asked her to dance, but she was far too embarrassed to. Her Master was polite enough to ask if he could go find someone else to dance with before he left.

Afterwards, dozens of Jedi came by her table and asked the same question. She refused them all, and after the twentieth request, she found a writing implement and wrote “But no, she won’t dance” on her own banner, underneath “The little Jedi who could.”

Almost four hours into the celebration, Hilaal grew antsy and tired of sitting so she excused herself. Sensing her desire to be alone, the Jedi left her to her own devices for a while as she wandered through the tightly-knit series of tables towards the far wall. She stood in front of a giant window, looking out at the multi-colored foundations of a hundred different skyscrapers. Clouds and the buildings’ sheer height kept her from being able to see more than a third of the way up the immense structures. After a few moments she gave up trying to follow the towers and switched her focus to the quickly moving pattern of speeders as they raced overhead. After a few moments of watching sky traffic, she transferred her gaze to the streets below. As the ground cars raced by only a few meters underneath the window, she began to relax a little, only to have a powerful feeling immediately grab her mind. It was a strong impression of danger, but the more she tried to focus on it, the slipperier it became, and her concern became more and more nebulous until soon she wondered why she was worrying about anything. A sudden distraction didn’t help her concentration either.

“Hi,” Antho said, coming to stand next to her, pretending to be as engrossed at the outside as she was.

“Oh. Hi.”

The silence was awkward for a few moments before he spoke again. “I went to your table to see if you’d dance with me, but you weren’t there, and I guess I already know the answer.”

“I don’t dance,” Hilaal replied softly.

Antho gave her a wry grin. “Neither do I, but I figured for you I’d make an exception.”

Her face turned bright red again and she couldn’t make herself reply.

“Did you like all your gifts?”

“What? Oh, yes, they’re very nice.”

“I organized that.”

She was able to look over at him and smile, though the blush still made her face warm. “Thank you.”

He was still pretending to look outside, even though she could feel his peripheral vision on her.

“I gave you the sand panther, but I didn’t see it at the table with the rest…”

Somehow she knew that Antho had picked the panther out. Hilaal glanced around to make sure nobody was looking before reaching into the pocket of her robes and lifting the animal out, just enough for him to see it.

For the first time, she saw Antho blush. “Oh. I guess that means you like it.”

“It’s wonderful,” Hilaal forced herself to answer, blushing more deeply because of Antho’s growing redness. They lapsed back into uncomfortable silence, both of them trying not to spontaneously combust.

The niggling feeling tickled the back of her mind again, this time more powerfully than before. “Do you feel anything?” Hilaal asked, turning to face her companion.

“Full.”

Her face scrunched up into an expression of irritation. “That’s not what I mean. I mean through the Force.”

“Oh.” He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. “Sort of,” he replied after a moment.

“Feel something, I do,” Yoda said, appearing out of nowhere to stand on the other side of her. “Powerful anxiety. Secrecy. Danger. Very strange, this is.”

The longer she blankly stared out the window, the more strongly the impression of danger amplified. Few by few, Jedi stopped dancing on the floor, much to the consternation of the musicians. Picking up on the concerned emotions of their Masters, Padawans subconsciously returned to their mentors’ sides, worry creasing their young features in a reflection of the elder Jedi’s unease. Eventually someone barked an order for the musicians to stop playing.

Antho began to fidget. “I should go find my Master.”

“I’m here, Antho,” replied a strikingly tall human woman with dark brown eyes, coming to join her apprentice. She wore pure white robes with a thin trail of silver trim around the edges and along her cuffs. Her long silver hair was braided in a single tail, reaching below the middle of her back. Hilaal guessed Antho’s Master was only a few years older than Pelt, who was standing at the female Master’s side, as though they had been dancing together.

“What’s going on?” Pelt asked, directing the question to Yoda.

“Cancelled, this party is,” Yoda loudly told them. He pitched his voice to reach as many people as he could. “Evacuate the Temple!”

“The whole bloody thing?” Antho’s Master asked, incredulous. Her objections were repeated at least a dozen times.

Yoda’s response was to grab hold of the Force and hurl out a few of the transparisteel windows. Three meters below, they clattered onto the pavement, causing horns to whine angrily and tires to squeal as the vehicles outside tried to avoid the sudden obstacles.

Immediately, Masters Grii and Pul rushed to Yoda’s side, with Hruuvokka’s furry head racing through the crowd towards them.

“Master Grii, with Pelt and Hilaal must you stay.” The two shared a concerned look that nobody besides the two of them really understood. “Evacuate everybody, we must.” He turned to Master Pul. “The alarm you must sound, and located, Master Davip must be. Hurry!”

As Pul raced through the banquet hall towards the main entranceway, the little green Jedi was hopping quickly, close by his side. “Where are you going, Yoda?”

“To the top of the tallest spire,” Hilaal heard him answer. He began to say something else, but his next words were completely drowned out by Antho’s Master’s Force-amplified voice.

“You heard Master Yoda. Everybody out, quickly! Get to a safe distance away from the Temple!”

The building’s mortar complained as more windows were shoved out. Immediately, Jedi poured out if the openings, running into the near-darkness of Coruscant’s night for all they were worth. Grii and Pelt, on either side of Hilaal, grabbed one of her elbows and leapt out of the window with her. The three of them made a somewhat gentle landing that jarred her teeth upon impact and began running again, once their eyes had gotten used to the change in illumination.

A pair of long school speeders lumbered down the street from around the corner, heading directly towards them. Fearing them full of students, Grii raced forward and tried to wave the buses out of the area.

“Move away!” he shouted.


In response, the primary door hissed open and several armored figures crowded out. Before anybody could really make sense of the scene, the newcomers withdrew blaster rifles and began to open fire at the host of Jedi as they fled the Temple.

Hilaal’s hand immediately went for her lightsaber.

“No!” Grii shouted, restraining her with one arm and using the other one to aid in his Force manipulation. The giant speeder rolled onto its side, crushing the soldiers as they tried to disembark, then it crashed over onto its roof before being hurled at the second speeder that was just starting to disgorge occupants of its own. As the two collided, there was a terrible shrieking of metal as it compressed the two vehicles together, completely pulverizing whatever was inside.

A trio of triangular shaped starfighters zipped overhead. Hilaal didn’t recognize the design, ruling out any support from Republic Security forces. As they began firing deadly sprays of laser blasts into the fleeing crowd, her stomach sank and her guts roiled in fear—not for herself, but for the rest of the Jedi.

“You take the ship on the left,” Grii said to Pelt before turning to Antho’s Master. “You get the right one. Squeeze them together!”

As the three concentrated, the starfighters’ forward motion stopped. Despite the resistance of powerful engines, the three of them crashed together, loudly creating a jumbled mass of sparking metal. The three Jedi were panting slightly as they heaved the destroyed craft harmlessly out of the way of friend or bystander.

Someone from far behind them let out a dismayed cry. “Grenade!”

Grii looked back at the dark shadows behind in horror before grabbing Hilaal’s arm. “Go!” he shouted, dragging her with him. “Go, go go!”

“We’ve got to do something!” Antho’s Master objected as she ran side by side with Pelt and her own apprentice. “We can’t just leave them!”

He ducked the five of them into a hidden alleyway, slowing their pace only slightly before replying. “There’s too many of us in too small of an area. We could all be shredded by a grenade if we’re clustered too close together!”

Even though they were several hundred meters away from the Temple, Hilaal could still hear the screams of pain and anger coming from Jedi and aggressor alike. Small arms explosions seemed to echo from all around, even though there wasn’t any evidence of attackers in front of them.

Another twinge of danger rocked Hilaal’s mind as she caught sight of a completely spherical starship passing overhead. Its engines left behind bright blue ion trails as it accelerated, racing into the war zone rather than away from it.


Grii saw the ship too. He slowed to a complete stop as the ship raced by. “By the Force. No!”

 

And that's action. What's happening to the Jedi?

 

Jedi_Perigrine - wow just wow!

I was so touched by the details on the plushies Hilaal got especially the panther and her talk with Antho was making me go all awwwww! When rip-roaring action.

You're super duper at action let me tell you. worried about what the threat could be to the Jedi in this time before the machinations of Sidious.

 

Wow, what a change of tone and atmosphere! We start in the middle of a proper celebration where Hilaal realises that she's gained increased understanding from her fellow Jedi, and then it all goes to the dogs... Although a small indication that something was amiss came early on, with Yoda's irritated glares towards the empty seat. Where was Master Davip during dinner?

The sand panther and the awkward dialogue with Antho were really cute And I'm interested in knowing more about Antho's master, I imagine we will see more of her?

But of course, what I want to know above all is the identity of this mysterious enemy, and if he/she has something to do with the dark presence in Hilaal's mind at the beginning of this story.

 

That's some confusion that'll take time to sort out! Thanks for reading.

Thank you very much for the lovely compliments! I like to keep my readers guessing as to what's happening next, too. But I think you might have noticed that.

Aha! The game's afoot. Interesting theory there. I guess I'll just force you to keep reading to find out. Thanks for reading!

___________

Shaking with fear and becoming more concerned by the moment, Hilaal analyzed the ship’s destination. “The Temple!” she cried, realizing the ship was on a collision course with the honored edifice and wasn’t slowing down at all.

“Down!” Pelt’s heavy frame landed hard on top of her, sending both of them onto their stomachs. One by one, their companions hit the deck as well.

Hilaal never heard the explosion. Instead, she was suddenly caught up in a massive shockwave that pummeled her with dust and debris, sending her sliding up the street. After almost a full minute of being completely deafened and hopelessly disoriented, she finally gathered enough of her wits to slide out from underneath Pelt’s prone body. Hilaal felt warm wetness running down the side of her jaw. When she put fingers to it, she discovered blood oozing mildly out of her ear. Quickly running fingers over the rest of her body, she found only shallow scrapes and bruises, finding herself relatively unharmed. Hilaal glanced about, taking in her position and that of her companions before discovering she was at least twenty meters away from where she fell.

“Pelt!” she wailed, becoming even more afraid as she took in the way his cloak had been shredded in places. She fell to her knees, shoving aside the torn fabric trying to see if anything had punctured his skin deeply. Hilaal didn’t see any evidence of head trauma, though he was bleeding from his ears, just like she was. There were a few hunks of stone that seemed embedded deeply in his flesh, and while none of them seemed serious, she didn't really know enough about anatomy to hazard a guess at his condition. “Master!”

Though her ears were still echoing painfully, she heard stirring from just ahead.

“Master Grii! Are you all right?” she asked, running to the figure's side.

“Agh!” he moaned, groaning in pain. “I’m okay,” he said, not very convincingly as he struggled to his feet. As he finally stood, he held his left arm at an awkward angle. “It’s only dislocated. Here.” He held the injured arm out for Hilaal to take. “Hold it steady. I’m going to pull on three. Give me as much resistance as you can. One…”

Before she could object, her body immediately obeyed, tensing, getting ready to provide the support he needed. Fortunately he didn’t give her much time to be horrified by what he was about to do.

“Two…Thr—” he twitched hard and cried out in great pain for a second before regaining control and forcing the pain away. “There,” he told her through clenched teeth. “Better.”

Hilaal watched with a sick feeling in her stomach as he moved the arm back and forth, wincing from the effort. She turned her attention back to Pelt who still wasn’t responding to her mental queries. Her heart continued pumping madly, as though she had just sprinted several kilometers, and she broke out into a cold sweat as she worried about the man who had taken her in.

Grii knelt beside Hilaal's Master and rolled him over, exposing a giant bruise forming on Pelt’s forehead. After a moment, he gave a relieved sigh.

“He’s all right…just unconscious, though he might have a concussion.”

A ground vehicle screeched to a stop just in front of them, and a Rodian male got out, concern written all over his features. “Hey, are you all right over there? What’s going on?”

“Don’t know,” Grii answered, heaving himself to his feet though still favoring his left arm a little. “Some sort of attack on the Temple.”

The male slipped off into Rodese, spitting words that sounded disbelieving curses. “How can I help?”

Master Grii nodded his appreciation. “We need a ride to the nearest starport.”

“Not the hospital?” the Rodian asked.

Hilaal wondered the same thing.

“No, we must get off Coruscant.” He turned his gaze from the helpful sentient and glanced over at Hilaal, as if she would be the one making the decision. “The Jedi must scatter to preserve our numbers. When we’ve gathered our strength, then we can return here.”

Not really knowing what was expected of her, she simply nodded, but that didn’t hide her disappointment.

“Get Pelt into the speeder. I need to check on Rameera and Antho.”

Emotionally numbed, she tapped the Force and heaved her Master over her shoulder. As carefully as she could, Hilaal laid him into the back seat, thankful at least that their rescuer drove a four-door vehicle.

“You’re pretty strong, little girl,” the Rodian complimented, his stance hesitant, arms held out awkwardly as though he had wanted to help.

Despite the horror she had just lived through, she felt her face warm in another stupid blush. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Here,” Grii beckoned. “Come get Antho.”

She followed the Master’s instructions immediately. As Hilaal draped Antho over her shoulder, she thanked the Force that he wasn’t as heavy as Pelt was. When she turned, though, she caught a glimpse of Rameera’s bloodied face. Hilaal fought down nausea, trying not to gape at the woman’s severely damaged eye. Oozing blood and a disgusting white milky substance tinted exposed bone and tendon along the right side of her skull and down along her jawbone.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” Grii demanded of the Rodian.

“No, Master Jedi, I’m sorry.”

Even as Hilaal was laying Antho in the seat next to Pelt, she heard Master Grii sigh, and mutter. “Might not have made any difference anyway.”

While Hilaal didn’t really know what Grii meant, she knew it couldn’t be good. Tears started trickling down her cheek as she tried not to think about anything at all.

“Don’t look, Youngling,” Grii told her, gently laying the too-still body of Rameera in the seat next to her apprentice. “It’s not pleasant.” Quickly, he threw open the passenger’s side door and climbed in, motioning with his hands for Hilaal to sit in the front seat with him.

Complying, she wedged herself inside.

“Hurry,” Grii said, urging the Rodian back into his vehicle. “We need to move.” Before the sentient could situate himself behind the controls, there was a distant snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited, followed quickly by two more.

Through the white mist of dust and smoke, shadowy figures and three red glows coalesced from the darkness, making a living barricade of flesh and lightsaber.

The moment Hilaal saw the figures, her senses were assaulted with emotions she had spent her whole life rallying against. Hatred and anger blazed inside her, but those feelings were not her own. It originated from the figures that were slowly closing on the speeder.

“Just when I thought this day couldn’t possibly get worse,” Grii swore to himself. Extracting himself from Hilaal, he exited the vehicle and climbed on top of it. The ceiling bulged dangerously above her as he shifted his weight slightly.

“Master, what are you doing? I can help!” Tired of doing nothing as hundreds of Jedi died around her, she was almost looking forward to battling some enemies face to face.

Hilaal could sense the indecision as he pondered his next move. “You can help,” he agreed. “Hilaal—drive.”

“You can have my speeder,” the Rodian said, heaving himself out of the driver’s seat.

“Then run. If those men catch you, you’re dead.”

That was all the motivation the Rodian needed before he took off at a dead sprint around a corner, disappearing behind a skyscraper. Shattered transparisteel crunched under each of his footsteps, swiftly fading into the night.

“Roll down all the windows,” the Master commanded. With only that warning, the windscreen popped off, as did the rear window. “If they were to break, they can use the shards against us,” he said by way of explanation.

A menacing voice suddenly broke the relative quiet of the night. “Come out and play, Jedi!”

Grii’s upside-down face poked down from above, looking into her eyes seriously. “If I give you instructions, do exactly as I say. Try to keep the speeder as steady as you can, but let the Force control your instincts. Now, drive. Floor it!”

Never having driven a speeder before, it took her a moment to find the throttle. Once she did, she made the engine give her everything it had.

The way the roof shifted over her head, she sensed Master Grii had stood up. “Keep going straight!”

Hilaal kept the controls as straight as she could, doing her best to shield her eyes from the sudden violent burst of blue lightning that erupted from several of the men in front of them. There was an electric crackling groan as Grii’s lightsaber intercepted the storm, though the tendrils that missed blackened the speeder’s hood and roof.

Somehow being able to split his concentration between defense and telekinesis, Grii had gathered a bundle of shredded transparisteel and sent a windstorm of sharp shards at their opponents. Some of the angry men did…something and banished the shards, but others weren’t so lucky. A pair of figures went down while the others broke ranks and retaliated.

The Force told her to turn left at the exact same time Grii did. Following her instincts as the Master had told her to, she swerved left so suddenly that the man who was suddenly in front of them didn’t have time to do anything except get impaled by the speeder’s nose. His body landed on the hood, spread-eagled, clinging by one hand and his toes. Grii’s swift slash from above cleaved the man in two. While the lower half slid off, the top half slid into the vehicle, still clutching its lightsaber.

Hilaal did her best to ignore the smell of scorched flesh, boiled fluids and half-cauterized body organs, but it wasn’t easy.

Another torrent of electricity arced towards them, but their sudden evasion had taken the speeder out of their range. Grii remained on the roof for another minute or so before reaching into the passenger’s side and tossing the human’s severed remains into the space in front of his feet.

“Can’t we get rid of that thing?” Hilaal asked, more than slightly queasy.

“Sorry, this may be the only clue we get to who’s behind this travesty.”

She followed the practically empty road, hoping all those traffic signs meant what she thought they did. “Do you want to take over?”

He looked at her and grinned wickedly. “You’re doing fine. Keep going. Take a right at the next intersection.”

Not used to driving at all, Hilaal turned a little too sharply and sent their unconscious passengers on a bumpy ride. “Sorry!”

“You’re doing fine.” The man repeated, still had the gall to remain smiling. “Just make sure you signal next time…that switch there.”

Hilaal gave him an irritated glare. “I’m three years too young to be driving anything, I’m behind the controls of a vehicle that’s been involved in a hit and run, I'm still speeding, and we have no windows. I’m sure signaling will be the least of the security forces’ concern.”


“Be that as it may, if you’re going to learn to drive, you’re going to do it properly.”

 

The pursuit continues! I can just picture Hilaal madly dashing towards the star port LOL about learning to drive properly. No time for safe driving lessons

On a more serious note, the saboteurs are not only persistent but being able to pull off an attack like that - speaks of being well-organized and highly connected.

 

Hilaal escaping and hope Pelt will be alright too

 

Ooh, a whole gang with red lightsabers? This can't be good

And poor Rameera... I was hoping to see more of her, but not like this -- and it does sound like this is the end of the road for her.

And now I assume that she's going to finally acknowledge the bond she's formed with him?

Soooo Jedi. The world may come down crashing, but the Padawan still needs to learn something

 

Wow!! Brilliant update! You write action very well indeed, Love the humour through the chase sequence as well. Great update

 

Indeed! It's not just anybody who can pull this off. Read on for more, and thanks for your loyal readership.

Guess you'll just have to keep reading. Thanks EB!

I liked the Rameera in there too.

Knowing Hilaal, she'll be shy and won't admit it. But you never know! Thanks so much for reading!!

I appreciate your reading very much, thank you!

I forgot to update last week, didn't I? Oops. Sorry about that! But....on with the show!

_____________

“Be that as it may, if you’re going to learn to drive, you’re going to do it properly.”

“Yes, Master.” Now that the battle was far from where they were, and they appeared to be relatively safe, Hilaal’s hands started shaking as she clutched the yoke. There could be little doubt that that giant ship had crashed into the temple. How many Jedi had been lost in that instant? Helplessness began to set in. “Master, what are we going to do? I…I felt all those Jedi die. The pain of it all is…heartbreaking. It feels like I’m dying with them…”

“I know, Hilaal. I feel it too.” He sounded exhausted and in as much pain—more mental than physical—as she felt herself. “We can’t concentrate on that right now. We need to get ourselves to safety first. Then we can make plans to find the others.”

I didn’t seem right to her to leave the other Jedi behind, but she didn’t feel she had a choice. Grii’s calm leadership was a powerful river and she found herself unwilling to swim to shore.

“There’s the spaceport. Park out front, I’ll see if I can find us transport.”

She did as she was told, throwing the vehicle into park. As Grii rushed inside, Hilaal stood up and leaned over the seat to check the status of her passengers.

Pelt’s bruise had turned a brilliant shade of red, but otherwise seemed okay. Near as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with Antho at all. The only one who seemed like they were in danger was Rameera. Seeing skull sticking out from underneath her skin and tissue was horrifying, as was her popped eyeball. She wished she had any knowledge of healing. As it stood now, Hilaal couldn’t even assess her overall health. But the Jedi woman’s chest rose and fell with encouraging regularity.

A few passers-by glanced in the speeder curiously, probably wondering a whole host of things; the most obvious of which being, why there were the dents of footprints on the roof, or where their windscreen went, or why the thing was smoking in various places. When they tried to stare into the speeder, Hilaal would glare at them and adjust her Jedi robes. That seemed to convince people to mind their own business.

Finally, Grii returned, followed by a man in a dark, expensive suit. He opened the passenger-side door and leaned in. “I found a spare Jedi transport and a physician.”

“Great space!” the man swore, seeing the dismembered body of the dark Jedi packed into the footrest in the front seat. “I can’t fix him, he’s dead!”

“I know, I killed that one,” the Master retorted sarcastically. “I need you to help the ones in the back.”

“Oh. Right then.” He took tools out of a small black bag he carried, checking each of them closely. “You know, a hospital would be able to do far more than I can. Are you sure you can’t—”

“Master,” Hilaal whispered, watching a dark figured man cradling what looked like the hilt of a lightsaber as he peered around the spaceport. “Is that another…?”

“Huttspawn!” Grii said softly. “How many of those guys are there?”

Two more of the black-clad enemies came around the corner, heading to confer with the first.

“Well, there goes the easy way. Doc, are you sure you can’t come with us?”

“I’m sorry, I have a patient on Corellia that I really need to see. If you’ll give me another hour I might be able to stabilize her…”

“There’s no time. Get out. Leave us what supplies you can.”

He took a couple things out of the bag and tossed the rest into the back of the speeder. “Good luck, then,” the physician said, stepping away as Grii got inside.

“Okay Hilaal. Drive in.”

“Master?” she asked, surprised. “I thought you wanted me to follow the rules of the road. I’m pretty sure driving into a spaceport isn’t legal.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. But we’ll never get past them if we have to drag the unconscious forms of our friends with us. If they were able to walk on their own, I’d come up with another plan, but right now, this is all I’ve got.”

Hilaal took a deep breath, shaking her head at the same time. With an obnoxious squeal, the tires hopped the curb. As quickly and carefully as she could, she drove into the spaceport’s main hallway. Sentients of a dozen different species swore at them as they drove by, weaving their way through the thickest pedestrian traffic and accelerating along the clear straightaways. She was as careful as she could be but she grazed a couple people. Finally they came to a fork in the hall.

“Which way?”

He climbed out his window and settled back on the roof again. “Left. Head to docking bay 49.”

“Okay.”

With Grii on the roof shouting for people to move, they made much better progress.

“Here we are. Padawan, turn.”

“I don’t think the speeder will fit,” she told him, looking at the doorway, estimating the width of clearance.

“Sure it will, just aim for the center. Go.”

Hilaal took another deep breath, took a couple of tries backing and angling forward, trying to get the vehicle as close to the center as she could, then she gave it a little throttle. The door hissed open and the ground speeder snuck through, main hull just barely missing either side. The two side mirrors snapped off, clattering to the metal floor loudly.

Grii didn’t seem to notice. “Good. Now get as close to the loading ramp as possible. The less we have to carry them, the better.

“Where are we going?” she asked, dropping herself into the copilot’s seat, once she finally had everybody safely stowed in their medical bay beds. While she tried to figure out how to use the automated MD droid, Grii had spent his time firing up the engines and doing pre-flight checks.

“First, to AgriCorps, then Tython. There’s an old Jedi temple hidden there. It’s our emergency meeting place, should anything ever happen to the Temple on Coruscant.” He shook his head sadly. “I never expected to have to go there, though.”

Under Grii’s control, the ship rose off its landing struts. “How are our friends?”

“Surprisingly stable. The droid agreed with your assessment of Pelt having a concussion. Master Rameera doesn’t seem to have suffered any permanent damage, excluding her eye, but she may not be as pretty as she used to be. The droid is doing the best it can for her wounds.”

Master Grii nodded, flying in silence for a few minutes. “What about Antho? You didn’t say anything about him…”

She shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, besides a small bruise on his forehead.”

“I’d guess he’ll probably wake up when his Master does. Those two had a pretty close bond and I’d wager she accidentally pulled him into her healing trance.” He gave her an assuring glance. “The good news about that is, with both of them powering her healing process, she’ll wake up as good as new in no time.”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

He looked relieved at not having to answer that question when the comm system buzzed. “It’s a voice-only emergency transmission on a Jedi-only frequency,” Grii told her, toggling the switch to hear it.

“This is the Jedi vessel Perseverance, Master Grii speaking.”

“Master Grii! It’s great to hear a friendly voice.”

“Irith?”

“Yes Master.”

“What are you doing away from AgriCorps?”

“We were attacked. Our whole….whole outpost was destroyed.”

Grii pounded his fist on the console in front of him. “Damn! The students were supposed to be safe, there!”

“Sorry Master. I was able to escape with several, but not all.”

“Do you have Naan Chudo?”

Hilaal whirled around to see Pelt, leaning forward and bracing himself against the back of her chair by his elbows. She was irritated with herself for not sensing him coming. Distractions weren’t an excuse.

“Naan is the only reason we escaped. Somehow he sensed them coming. Who’s that?”

“I am Pelt Quar.”

There was the sound of something fragile being broken and a muffled curse that a lot of pirates wouldn’t repeat.

“Let me guess,” Pelt muttered. “That was Naan.”

“Yes sir. He…doesn’t have many nice things to say about you.”

________

“He has every right to feel that way. I tried explaining things via letter, but I’d guess he probably never read any of them.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. We’re setting a course for Coruscant now.”

“Don’t bother,” Master Grii interrupted. “The Temple on Coruscant came under attack too. It’s…pretty well slagged.”

“They can’t have destroyed all the Jedi there,” Irith said incredulously.

“No, I’m sure there are survivors, but I have no idea how many, or where to find them. There were dark Jedi among our attackers.”

“Dark Jedi?” Pelt repeated, slumping exhaustedly and horrified into the seat behind Hilaal. “Did I miss something?”

“You were napping at the time,” Grii said, turning slightly to look him in the eye before facing back out the main cockpit window.

“Napping. Right.”

“Well what’re we gonna do now?” Irith demanded worriedly. “If Coruscant is gone, and our AgriCorps base is gone…where does that leave us?”

“We were headed to Tython,” Grii told him.

“What’s on Tython?” Irith asked, confusion filling his voice completely.

“The Jedi used to be based there. It’s always been our secret, tertiary backup base, but it’s so old that we’re not sure how much of the structure is left.”

“And how do we know that Temple hasn’t been compromised as well?”

Grii looked as if he were going to argue that it would be perfectly safe, but then his features fell slightly as he reconsidered. “Good point.”

“We’ll just have to do a flyby,” Pelt recommended. “If someone shoots at us when we get close, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“I’ll leave that to you Jedi types,” Irith said. “I’m just an administrator, I’m not cut out for being shot at.”

Master Grii chuckled darkly. “Most people aren’t. How are you for supplies?”

The three of them listened to mumbling as Irith discussed the matter with his shipmates. “I think we can hold out for a couple weeks. More, if necessary.”

“Well don’t starve yourselves,” Grii told the man. “I’m sure you can get food from any civilized world, just use the Jedi account. But I do have instructions for you. Stay out of hyperspace for as long as you can and keep this frequency open at all times. We’ll go check the status of the Temple on Tython. If you don’t hear back from us in a week, assume that Tython has fallen as well.”

“Great,” Irith said sarcastically. “What then?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see what we come up with. May the Force be with us all. Grii out.”

Hilaal and Master Grii swiveled their chairs to look at Pelt, who shook his head sadly.

“This has not been a good day,” he muttered.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Grii scoffed, adjusting their heading away from the proscribed takeoff corridor provided by Coruscant’s air traffic control. An angry voice shouted obscenities at them, but Master Grii quickly switched the comm off as he headed towards the wreckage of the Jedi Temple.

When it finally came into view, the three of them could only stare dumbly. The majestic building had been reduced to smoking rubble. The four towers marking the cardinal directions were gone, their masonry completely shuffled in with the rest of the debris. The largest spire was gone as well, though here and there evidence of intact transparisteel littered the top of the collapsed structure. Even at their altitude of several kilometers, Hilaal thought she could see a small portion of a Council Member’s chair, smashed to bits. It didn’t seem like there was a piece of the temple left bigger than a door.

“I don’t believe it,” Pelt exclaimed, his face agape with horror.

“I didn’t imagine it would be this bad,” Grii agreed.

Master Yoda, she thought to herself, unwilling to say the words aloud.

“I’ve seen too much,” Grii announced, steering their ship straight up, heading out of the atmosphere and resuming the path that Coruscant’s flight authority had dictated.

They sat silently in dismay as the ship flew itself into the blackness of space. “Here,” he said, activating the autopilot before heaving himself to his feet and heading towards the ship’s main cabin. “I want to check on our injured.” The Master glanced back to take in Pelt’s pained expression and shook his head slightly. “Our unconscious injured.”

With that, Master and Apprentice were left alone.

“Sorry about disguising our bond, Young one, but I didn’t want you to feel the way I do right now.”

Hilaal shrugged, her emotions too raw to really care about the slight, or anything else for that matter.

“How do you feel?”

She shrugged again, glancing down at her intertwined fingers. “Sick,” Hilaal answered at last. “It feels like a nightmare, Master. Did that really happen? How could we have let it?”

Pelt leaned forward and put his hand on her knee, brushing at some durocrete debris he found there. “The Jedi like to believe they’re in control of everything, but really, we’re just along for the ride like everybody else. It is odd that nobody sensed this coming until it was almost too late, but for the moment, pragmatism and the Jedi Code will be our ally. So long as there’s one Jedi alive, the Order will not die. I suspect our losses won’t be as bad as they seem.” He ran both hands over his face, pausing to rub at his temples as if they were causing great pain. “But losing a single Jedi is a tragedy.”

Hilaal rushed forward and embraced her Master in a desperate hug. Pelt’s words reflected exactly the way she felt, but he was far more eloquent than she at saying so. As his arms wrapped around her, she sobbed softly into the shredded collar of his robes knowing that as much as he would like to cry too, he wouldn’t because she needed him to be strong. That just made her cry all the harder.


“We’ll get through this, Young one. Trust me, and trust the Force.”

 

*gulp* The secondary base has been attacked too! Whew, love the consoling exchange between Pelt and Hilaal. Grii is very composed and clear-thinking as someone needs to be, but I know he's as floored as the rest. Reassured about Rameera and Antho though. They should eventually pull through.

 

yes escape but now what. Are they the only survivors and where is Yoda?

 

Wow, that was really a coordinated attack on all fronts, wasn't it? The baddies are waiting for them at the spaceport, the AgriCorps base is gone too, and who knows about Tython...

It's good to hear that Rameera will make it. After the description in the previous chapter I thought she was a goner.

And Naan Chudo is back, uh? In a way I guess that all this is good news for him, it allowed him to show his true worth and he might be pulled out of the AgriCorps now, because the poor kid didn't deserve that. Still, there's going to be an awkward moment down the line.

To focus for a moment on a small detail, I love how you made the vehicle they use a groundspeeder with tires and mirrors. It's a clever way to show that all this is happening several centuries before TPM.

EAGERLY waiting for the next update!

 

Thank you all for your replies. I'm currently in the midst of a medium sized life change, so I don't have time to respond individually. Sorry.

But at least I can get my post done before I move on to the next life event!

______________

“We’re out of hyperspace in thirty seconds,” Grii said rather unnecessarily. Hilaal and Pelt were both next to him in the cockpit, though Hilaal was now sitting in the navigator’s station, letting her Master sit in front of her in the copilot’s chair.

They waited out the time in silence, already having discussed their options in the hours-long hyperspace jump. Each of them had tried to surrender their anger and helpless frustration to the Force in accordance with the Jedi Code, but the magnitude of their suffering was far too great. The best they were able to do was to bury their feelings deeply and hope negative emotions wouldn’t sneak through any of the cracks in their nearly shattered façade.

Finally they dropped out of their hyperspace corridor, the bright blue and pale green world of Tython hanging majestically in front of them. Dark swirling clouds covered most of the southwestern continent, but otherwise, the planet was bathed in warm sunlight; a boon to raw spirits.

Several hundred kilometers over the surface lay a ring, but it wasn’t a natural phenomenon. Thousands of hulks of old starships and the remains of ancient orbital platforms told of a history fraught with conflict.

“As far as we know, nobody’s visited here with the occasional exception of salvagers and even rarer Jedi scout or historian, tracing back the journey of the Order,” Grii muttered. “Here.” His hands tapped in a few commands and their view of the planet was suddenly magnified several times. The outline of a small oval structure filled the monitor. Obviously constructed walls were over-grown with teeming plant life of all colors, blending into an oddly textured drapery that covered the old Temple.

Something about the building’s shape stood out in Hilaal’s mind. But just like the Force’s vague warning back on Coruscant, the harder she tried to remember, the slipperier her memory was.

Pelt seemed to be ignoring everything. Instead, he was focused on his hands as they flew over the controls, scanning for any form of power reading or sign of unnatural movement. “I think we’re in the clear,” he said.

Pilot and navigator had only enough time to breathe a sigh of relief before Pelt contradicted himself.

“I have eight fighter contacts, right behind us!”

To drive home the point, the ship shuddered under the pummeling of laser blasts, causing the cockpit’s illumination to dim briefly.

“How did they find out about this place!” Grii demanded, whipping the ship around in an unpredictable arc, dodging some of the fire. “This place was supposed to be secret!”

The other two didn’t have an answer for him.

There was a loud clatter from the rear of the ship as something broke free in the tumult. With each evasive maneuver, there were successively louder crashes as the loose item smashed into walls and bulkheads.

Hilaal immediately started plotting in another hyperspace jump, trusting the Force and her fingers to find them a place of safety.

“Can you at least try to dodge some of the fire?” Pelt demanded.

“I am!” he countered. “This thing doesn’t exactly have military grade engines.”

“Or shields.”

“Shut up, Pelt, I’m doing my best, here.” Grii pitched his voice behind him. “How’s that jump coming?”

“Fifteen seconds, Master,” Hilaal answered.

“I’ve picked up additional contacts! Capital ships are closing on our position from the left.”

Much larger bursts of green laser fire streaked above and below them. Despite missing by dozens of meters, each shot caused their ship to bounce around turbulently.

“If one shot so much as grazes us, we’re atoms.”

“I know, I know!” Master Grii shouted, closing his eyes, trying to fall into the rhythm of the Force’s control, counting on that split-second warning of danger. He slalomed the ship left and right, causing his two passengers to grab hold of their safety restraints, and more damage to the aft compartment from the shifting debris. He pitched the ship downward before wheeling it up and around in a sloppy loop that managed to confuse pursuers for a few more seconds.

“It’s ready! Go!”

The three of them were pressed hard into their seats as Grii manipulated the hyperdrive levers, launching into the security of a hyperspace bubble.

Grii’s white knuckles finally let go of the control yoke before he shook out the cramps wracking his hands and grabbed at his shoulder restraints in relief.

“That wasn’t fun. I think the next idea should come from someone besides me.”

Pelt smirked and patted the old Master gently. “We’re still alive, that counts for something. Where are we headed, Young one?”

Hilaal suddenly realized she wasn’t sure where they were going. “Uh…” she stalled, glancing over her readouts.

“You mean you don’t know?” Grii demanded.

She blushed and shrugged as she scanned through the data. With a start, she looked up suddenly.

“What is it, Padawan?”

“We’re headed for Dantooine.”

Grii grinned wryly. “Well. At least one of us is going home.”

Home, she thought awkwardly to herself. Dantooine hadn’t been home for eleven years, if indeed she had ever considered it such. Still, the vague premonition hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had only gotten stronger, though she still wasn’t able to zero in on whatever it was.


The three days of hyperspace travel quickly brought the three of them into a routine. Having fought exhaustion and depression for so long, they all spent time recovering their equilibriums in deep meditation. Sleep was their next most time-consuming endeavor, though they spent a fair amount of time eating and sewing up their damaged robes. While none of them would win any Jedi fashion shows at the moment, at least they were recognizable as robes again. They were able to take quick showers to stay clean, but their resources weren’t limitless. Hilaal hadn’t been able to do her hair properly since their sudden retreat from Coruscant. The purple streaks were beginning to fade in with the rest of her hair.

A buzzing alert from the MD droid sent all three of them rushing into the medical bay in time to hear the soft, simultaneous groans of Rameera and Antho as they finally awoke from their deep slumber.

“Ugh,” said the striking Jedi woman. Thanks to the bacta bandages and her own accelerated healing processes, her face was only a mess of pink scars instead of exposed bone. Her ruined eye had a fuzzy cloth patch over it, mostly because Pelt got queasy every time he looked at the damaged soft tissue.

“Where are we? Why aren’t we at the Temple?”

Temple. The word resonated strongly inside Hilaal’s mind. The answer was so close, it seemed she could reach out and touch it. It was maddening to be perpetually on the verge of an epiphany.

Grii put a comforting hand on her shoulder, preventing her from sitting up right away. “There’s not much left of the Temple, Rameera,” he told her as gently as he could.

Stronger than she had any right to be after her long injury, she shook his restraining hand off. “Who?”

“We don’t know. We were only able to gather one clue, but he hasn’t said much.”

Rameera followed Grii’s eyes to the half-a-body floating in another bacta tank. Aside from his human DNA, they hadn’t been able to ascertain anything about him. Hours spent analyzing his lightsaber and clothing had provided no details whatsoever.

“Dark Jedi?” she exclaimed, surprised. “Is that a Sith?”

Grii started laughing. “It can’t be.” All at once, his mirth stopped and his mouth dropped open. “Can it?”

“What’s a Sith?” Hilaal asked, watching Antho as he sat up. He seemed just as coherent as his Master was. Apparently the time he’d spent helping her heal hadn’t taken too hard of a toll on him.

“If legends are to be believed, the Sith were the opposite of the Jedi. They focused on their own raw emotions to give them their power through the Force. Most of the Sith listed in the histories were arrogant, egotistical tyrants who wanted to rule the galaxy to prove their power. But nobody has heard from a Sith in centuries.”

“True as that may be,” Rameera told them. “That doesn’t mean the Sith are no more. I’ve been gathering data on them ever since I obtained Masterhood and was able to browse through the more secret of the files in the Jedi Archives. The Sith have disappeared before, and for a longer period of time. They always come back.”

Grii looked skeptical, though he nodded. “I think I liked it better when you were asleep.”

She rubbed her forehead in dismay. “I think I did too.”

Taking quick advantage of the lull in conversation, Hilaal tapped Antho awkwardly on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

He gave her a tremulous grin. “I’m fine, though I’d rather be in the Healer’s ward.”

“Where are we?” Rameera asked again.

“We’re on our way to Dantooine.”

“Why there?”


Master Grii looked at Hilaal. “I think we better start this story from the very beginning.”

 

Dantooine and the old Jedi-ruins? Interesting place to go to.

 

Yikes, there was someone lying in wait at Tython. Dantooine - looking forward to what further happens there and am glad that Rameera is lucid and very much able to contribute information, etc. to the discussion and figuring out what or who is behind everything that's happened.

~!

Hope your life events are tipping the balance toward the exciting/joyful.