Before the Saga Schism--Complete

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If there was any doubt, now we're sure that the enemy is not only well-organised, it has also been planning and building forces in the shadows. I wonder if the fact that they knew about Tython means that there's a mole/spy within the Jedi temple, and who that could be

And Hilaal's ghostly premonitions that she can't put her finger on... There's something larger at work here. Hopefully we'll soon find out what it is.

 

Read through the whole thing. Great, Great stuff.

Keep up the great work!

 

Have to start somewhere, right?

Indeed! Thanks for reading!

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

I wonder too! Well ok maybe I don't wonder as much as the rest of you.

Life events include a new job! I haven't had a new one of those for a very long time. Thanks for the well wishes!

Thanks for slogging through this thing! I know it's not a short read. We're just over half way, now.

Okay! Moving on!

“This is a nightmare,” Rameera exclaimed. She had taken the explanation of the last week’s events with stoicism, but she was as unnerved as everybody else at the violent trail behind them. She was in shock at the death of many Jedi, unable to put her horror into coherent words.

“I’m sorry about your eye, Master Rameera,” Hilaal told her.

She waved the concern aside as if it were of no consequence. “I have the Force, Padawan. I don’t need my eyes.”

Suddenly distracted by a loud beeping from the cockpit, the five of them headed there together, almost as if afraid to leave each other alone.

The ship reverted to realspace as they all arrived.

Ceding the last chair to Antho, Hilaal leaned over the navigator’s chair to get a closer look at her home planet. The light green vegetation seemed to cover every square kilometer of the large, equatorial continent. Light blue oceanic water enclosed the landmass on three sides, though the western most portion of it was on the far side of the planet still.

Oddly enough, that’s where Hilaal’s eyes immediately were drawn. Her epiphany, so close to the surface, was now even closer. Just one more little clue and the whole puzzle would put itself together right in front of her.

“Master, can you fly us that way?” she asked.

Grii shrugged, seeing no reason not to.

She was able to predict the general shape of the continent. Her eyes went immediately to a tiny zone that seemed to be a slightly different color than the rest of the surrounding countryside. “There, can you magnify that?” she asked, pointing at the small area.

Pelt complied, glancing back at her oddly. “It’s probably just a farm. There is a local population down there, you know.”

“I know,” she answered automatically, taking in the oddly-shaped building she had discovered. “But that’s so familiar to me somehow…”

“Surely you wouldn’t remember your own home,” her Master said comfortingly. “You were found a long time ago.”

Something clicked in her mind. “I don’t think that’s my home,” she told them. “Bring up the image of the Jedi Temple on Tyvoth.”

“Who died and made you captain?” Grii joked, doing as she wished. He was the first person to let out a little gasp, though.

“That’s not my home,” she repeated. “That’s our home.”

“The main building is exactly the same!” Pelt exclaimed. “Though on a much smaller scale than the Temple on Tyvoth.”

“The Padawan is right,” Rameera agreed, turning back to give her a warm smile. “It’s not big enough to be a Temple, but that building must have been related to the Jedi somehow…an enclave of some sort. It looks like someone has added several buildings onto the main structure, though. Additional houses, perhaps.”

Master Grii didn’t waste any time gawking. With more enthusiasm than they had sensed from him since the whole ordeal began, he sped the ship towards the enclave.

“I hope whoever lives down there is friendly,” Pelt muttered, pleased to have found a standing abode for the Jedi, but skeptical.

“What?”

“Look,” he told them. “Someone has maintained the building. Otherwise it would be just as overgrown as the Temple on Tython. It’s inhabited.”

All conversation ceased, leaving each sentient in their own private thoughts for the ten minutes it took to bring the ship down to the surface. They landed about a quarter of a kilometer away from the enclave, in a clearing that looked fairly recent—made within the last few years, anyway.

As Hilaal followed everybody else down the boarding ramp, she was struck by a sudden sense of familiarity. The smell of the foliage was comforting, yet unique, different than anything she had been exposed to even during her frequent travels as a Jedi youngling on field trips. The wind whispered a homecoming into her ear, causing an expectant tickle to caress the back of her neck, as if her hair were standing on end. Even though she understood logically that she was coming home, Hilaal couldn’t have predicted the powerful emotions that the planet would dredge up. It wasn’t just the planet that brought familiarity, either.

By the time the five of them had their boots on the spongy ground, a tall and skinny yellow haired man in his early forties waited for them by the path leading towards the enclave. His slightly dirty, simple clothes and supple hide boots marked him instantly as a farmer, but the pride with which he carried himself was unmistakable.

“We were wondering when you were going to come back,” he said, fighting a silly grin. There was no sense of hostility about the man at all. In fact his presence was welcoming and soothing at the same time.

“We didn’t know about this place until just now,” Master Grii answered. “But thanks for the welcome.”

The man’s demeanor slipped for a moment as confusion crossed his features, but then he suddenly understood. “Right, I had forgotten this was an old Jedi enclave. Our family has lived here for so many generations that it’s hard not to think of this place as the home we built.

“But I was talking to Hilaal. Welcome home, daughter.”

Pelt was there to catch her before her knees gave out.

Of course! That explained why the man was so familiar, Hilaal thought to herself as she regained control of her legs. Something made her put her arm around Pelt’s waist anyway, less to steady herself, since she didn’t need it anymore, but more to reassure him. The spike of jealousy he sent along their bond was very hard to ignore.

“Aren’t you pleased so see your father again?” Mr. Yuchee asked, his expression crestfallen. “Your mother would have come too, but she’s organizing a homecoming feast. For you.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” she said after a moment. “Jedi rarely see their parents after being given up. After the last two weeks of hell, my biological family has been the least of my concerns.”

Pelt looked at her suddenly, knowing her well enough to understand that she wasn’t crippled by the usual bout of shyness. While she wasn’t reacting to this man’s revelations with hostility, there wasn’t much happiness, either. None of the Jedi party missed the pointed bitterness in her voice either.

“Well, maybe we deserve that,” Mr. Yuchee replied, his face looking more like a trusted pet had turned on him. “We didn’t really have a choice. Your Force powers were under developed, compared to the rest of the family’s. As you aged, it became apparent that we couldn’t teach you what you needed to know to fulfill your destiny.”

A blind man would have been able to sense the shock emanating from Master Grii. “You’re Force sensitive?”

He nodded. “Everybody in the family is.” He shook his head distractedly. “Where are my manners? Come! Everybody, please come. There will be food, there will be dancing, and after we’ve had our fill of pleasure, there will be conversation. Our daughter and the Jedi are always welcome in house Yuchee.”


The woman whose appearance was so similar to Hilaal had practically bowled the young woman over with a mighty hug before dissolving into tears and incomprehensible gibberish. She resembled Hilaal so much that it was impossible not to think of the woman as Hilaal’s mother. She politely accepted the woman’s embrace, but Hilaal didn’t hesitate to remove her hands once the hug was over. She could see her withdrawal had hurt her mother deeply, but Hilaal wasn’t sorry.

What right did her mother have to be hurt when it was her mother who had abandoned her to the Jedi in the first place? Ten years of intense work and hard love was not a fair trade for being abandoned by a loving family. The time spent with Pelt was a tremendous lift on her spirit, but he could hardly erase a decade of unhappiness in a matter of weeks.

The five of them were taken to a massive dining area set up in the middle of a wide circle of open air in the normally enclosed house complex. The normally closed ceiling lay open, letting the brisk outdoor air caress their skin. Different hallways branched off to a numerous series of apartments, accessed through a sort of ring that connected them all together like one long, round hallway. They learned that there were a dozen extended families all living inside the enclave, all totaling about five hundred people.

As people crowded around her, names and relations were listed off in rapid-fire fashion, all of which were almost immediately forgotten. Barely given enough time to wash up before dinner, they were ushered into seats of honor, near the head of the table next to Hilaal’s great-grandfather, Jeb.

The old man was almost completely blind, though he still retained much of his hearing. His warm handshake surprised Hilaal as the most welcomed embrace she received over the course of the evening. As the elderly were so fond of doing, he launched into an amusing story of how precocious Hilaal was as a child, and the startling frequency at which she caused adorable (though sometimes disgusting) mischief.

For Hilaal, the food was good, and just as obliquely familiar as their hosts. Parts of the enclave were so recognizable that she immediately thought of the now-demolished Jedi Temple when she saw them again. Perhaps part of the similarity was because both buildings were firmly based in Jedi occupation; but the longer she thought about it, the more she wondered if she hadn’t been thinking about the Temple at all…that those rooms belonged only to this enclave.

The communal dining area was a hubbub of activity at any point during a day. When there was a special event, the quantity of people made the large area seem downright tiny, as was the case now. Despite the cold air drifting through the open roof as night fell, the retractable roof was left open. Otherwise the room would have been stiflingly hot from all the bodies crammed in there.

Hilaal and the other Jedi were treated with the utmost respect, but they couldn’t let their guard down completely. On a couple of occasions, Grii looked like he was on the verge of telling stories of his own—whether they be Jedi related, or tales at how Hilaal hadn’t really changed over the years, but then he would remember what had brought them all here, and the smile would suddenly die on his lips like a shadowmoth combusting in an open flame.

“Friends and family,” Great-Grandfather Jeb said, struggling to his feet. “We thank you for your welcome of our lost one. But now we must speak with her alone.”

Hilaal and Pelt’s chairs were the first ones to scrape back as they stood, but soon all of the Jedi, along with the Yuchees were standing to leave. There were sincere well-wishes all around before Jeb’s steady legs led them into the Yuchee’s apartment.

“Please, sit,” the old man said, easing himself into his favorite chair. “I’m sorry there’s not enough room on the couches for everybody.”

The Jedi insisted that it was no big deal for them to sit on the floor. Though there was room between Hilaal’s mother and father, she chose to sit next to Pelt on the soft rug covering a well-smoothed wood floor. Two of her older brothers stood near seats until it became clear the Jedi would be comfortable on the ground, then they sat next to their parents on the long hide-covered couch.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” Jeb announced. “Hilaal, we sent you away to the Jedi because we couldn’t train you, not because we didn’t love you. We know you must have felt that nobody cared about you, once you were old enough to realize your family let you go, but that is simply not true.”

“I mean no offense by my interruption,” Pelt said. “But what do you mean you couldn’t train her? I’ve seen people from several families utilizing the Force almost as well as a Jedi Master.”

“The Force just requires practice. We live a hard life as farmers out here, so we have lots of time to hone our skills.” Though he couldn’t see out of them, Jeb’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Several of the sentients living here have trained with the Jedi as well, myself included.”

Master Grii cocked his head sideways. “So why did you leave?”

“I left for my family,” Jeb answered. “The high and mighty Jedi do a wonderful service to the galaxy, but at what cost? Being unable to associate with a biological family, rather than just Jedi is a terrible failing, as far as I’m concerned. It leaves an empty place in a man’s soul to not experience love and the frustration that comes from a relationship. Or watching the birth of your children, and your children’s children…or your children’s children’s children,” he said, glancing fondly at the floor where Hilaal sat. “Or of watching your son and daughter grow up and die of old age before you do. It’s a hard thing to do, to leave that family behind.”

“As you said, the Jedi provide a needed service,” Grii answered, slightly defensively. “But you’re right, it is a hard thing to do.”

“You may see a few familiar faces around the enclave, but I’m asking you not to look too closely. Or, if you discover someone you think you know, honor their decision to stay here, with us. Don’t try to convince them to head back to the Jedi.”

Grii looked like he wanted to object, but Hilaal forestalled him with a question. “What does all that have to do with me?”

“Well, we can teach you to a lot of things with the Force…move heavy objects with your mind, refresh the land, empower the crops to grow and reproduce, heal our livestock’s wounds, predict the weather—all that stuff and more. But what we can’t teach you is swordsmanship. As non-Jedi, we’re not allowed to carry lightsabers, nor do many of us even want to. But when you were barely able to stand, you were twirling sticks better than I could, even after my years of training at the Temple. As your other Force abilities lagged farther and farther behind, I knew there was something unique about you that wouldn’t be uncovered unless we sent you elsewhere to learn.”

“That didn’t mean we didn’t want you, Hilaal. We loved you because you were our daughter, because you were special,” Hilaal’s mother said.

Jeb gave an irritated glare in her direction before turning back to face the seated Jedi. “You were very special to all of us, and not just the Yuchees. Everybody was sad to see you leave, but we had to.” He held up a hand begging patience while he coughed for a moment.

“I’ll get you some water, Grandfather,” one of Hilaal’s brothers said.

As he continued his wet cough, Jeb nodded his appreciation. He finished sputtering just after the carved wooden container of liquid was in his hand, taking a couple of sips to force the mucus down his throat.

“Sorry. I know you want me to get to the damn point already, but I wanted you to know that it wasn’t really our idea to send you away. Shortly after your second naming day, the entire farm began having visions of you, locked in lightsaber combat against massive numbers of foes. It was like the Force was insisting that it was vital you be sent off to train with the Jedi. As the premonitions continued, they became stronger and stronger until everybody who lived with us woke up to blinding headaches that they couldn’t shake. After a few days of that, some folks wanted you gone. A few weeks later, it became obvious that, as much as it hurt us to let you go, it was in your own best interest, as well as everybody else’s. The Force was strangling us slowly until we finally gave up. It was then we called the Jedi for help on an unrelated matter, and it was then that your mother and father left you at the foot of the Jedi’s starship. We tried sending you letters, but the Jedi wouldn’t deliver them—we knew they wouldn’t, but we wrote them anyway. There are copies kicking around here somewhere, you can read them if you wish. We hated ourselves for sending you away, but many of us suspected that you’d be back. And…here you are, though I didn’t expect you to bring so many Jedi with you.”

“I’m afraid we’re not here on a holiday,” Grii told them.

“Oh?”

“The Temple on Coruscant has been destroyed.”

Every eye was suddenly on Master Grii with that announcement. The Yuchees had shock written all over their features. Master Rameera and Pelt were both staring at him like he had lost his mind. It was typical Jedi nature to tell the outside world nothing of what went on inside the Temple, maintaining the mystery of the Order. To have a Master come right out and tell complete strangers of the catastrophe went against everything they had been taught.

“Master Grii,” Rameera warned.

He waved aside her concern. “We’re not here accidentally, Rameera. The Force brought us here. If I guess right, I’d say there’s an ample supply of resources stockpiled, as well as several empty apartments that could house displaced Jedi.”

Hilaal’s mother and father looked at Jeb, fear plastered all over their faces.

Jeb gave a soft laugh. “I’d guess my grandchildren are begging me not to say anything right now, but the truth is—”

“Grandfather, no!”

“The truth is you’re exactly right,” he said, speaking right over the top of their objections. “Now are you asking if we’d be willing?”

Hilaal thought it amusing that her parents were looking at Jeb almost in the exact same way that Pelt and Master Rameera were looking at Grii—in abject horror. She doubted her observation would be well received though, so she said nothing.

“I am.”

“Then tomorrow I’ll bring the proposal before the elders. To be honest, I don’t know what they’ll say, but we’ve never sent away anybody in need.”

“Thank you, Elder Yuchee. We are grateful for your assistance.”

“I didn’t promise anything,” he snapped crankily. “But I said I’d try. It’s past this old man’s bedtime, though. You’re welcome to stay with us for the night.”

“That’s all right. We should head back to our ship. We don’t want to impose. Will it be all right if we send some transmissions from our ship over the holo-net while we’re here?”

“If you must.”

“Thank you. We’ll get out of your hair for the night, then.”

The Yuchees offered half-hearted attempts to get them to stay overnight—especially Hilaal—but they all declined and marched wordlessly to the ship. Once the ramp was up and locked into place, the Jedi made up for their silence in earnest.

“Master Grii, are you crazy? If the whole galaxy finds out we’re in trouble, our other enemies could well multiply.”

Grii’s reply, though loud, was lost in the muffled rustling of her robes as she left the small group arguing. She was too distracted to listen to their bickering anyway.

I have a family who loved me. So why in space did they let me go so easily? Before she knew what she was doing, she was sitting on the ground, leaning up against the ship’s landing strut, running her fingers through loamy soil. For the moment, she wasn’t worried about the grease from the landing gear, or the dirt gathering on her robes. All she could think about was the sudden appearance of her family, and that they loved her—or said they did, anyway. Yet they still sent her away.

And that vision…how could it be possible that she would be a warrior? While she had noticed her robes becoming shorter over the last few months, she was far too small and slender to intimidate anybody. Hilaal supposed she did all right during the lightsaber competition, but that was in a controlled setting against people who didn’t really mean her harm. How could she be expected to battle the tides of enemies that had suddenly washed up? None of it made any sense.

“Are you all right?”

The sudden voice made her jump. Hilaal reached for her lightsaber and before she knew what she was doing, she had managed to unhook it and settle into a combat stance. Then she recognized her Master, standing in front of her. When she saw the concerned expression on Pelt’s face, she tried to relax and resume her previous position against the strut.

“I guess.” She watched him watching her for a few moments before she couldn’t take the scrutiny. “How’s the argument going?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I couldn’t hear much of it over the turmoil of your thoughts. I figured you needed me more than Master Rameera did. Was I wrong?”

“Probably not. But I don’t really want to talk about it.” Thinking about it is hard enough, she thought to herself.

“Okay.” The way he said it made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. That impression was supported by the way he slid his back down the other landing strut, so he could face her. “I’ll just sit with you until you’re ready to talk.”

“What, that’s it?” Hilaal demanded. “You don’t have any Masterly advice for me? No…parable to relate my problems with someone else’s?

“Nope. I could probably make one up, but it would sound pretty lame, even by my standards.” Pelt shot her a wry grin, which she couldn’t help but return mildly.
Together they sat, staring at each other, lost in their own thoughts until a sturdy set of boots pounded down the ramp.

“Master Grii convinced me,” Rameera said without preamble, as though the admission was painful for some reason. “We’re going to make contact with AgriCorps survivors. Want to listen in?”


Pelt glanced at her, obviously deferring to Hilaal’s decision. As she realized she wasn’t going to make any headway in her personal conflict, she nodded at last.

 

That's a surprise

 

Excellent tht they found a restful place to resettle. Superb jumble and tumble of feelings as Hilaal is reunited with her birth family. Very understandable that she would not take them instantly at their word about their motivations & very realistic that even with the niche and caring she found with Pelt - the earlier "rejection" still stings.

 

Thanks everybody, for reading! I didn't realize how long that post was. I'll go shorter this time.

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The next few months passed with amazing speed. Hilaal’s Great Grandfather Jeb had been true to his word. The farm had voted in a surprising show of unity, allowing the Jedi to bring as many survivors as they wanted. There were well over a thousand Jedi still standing after the disaster on Coruscant. While most of them continued on with prescribed missions, hundreds returned to the shattered Temple to help look for survivors and retrieve the broken pieces of the Order. Others weren’t content to stay on Coruscant, though. Over the course of the first two weeks, dozens of Jedi arrived on Dantooine, including Irith, all the students from AgriCorps and of course Naan Chudo. The awkward tension between the young man and Pelt was palpable by Jedi and non-Jedi alike. Pelt chased Naan around the farm whenever Pelt wasn’t busy with Hilaal or doing the chores that the Elders had assigned to him. Every day, by refusing to speak with him, Naan managed to upset her Master a little more, but Pelt wouldn’t stop trying to talk to the boy.

Hilaal spent all the daylight hours—and some of the dark ones—under the demanding and watchful eyes of many Jedi, learning more lightsaber techniques and practicing the ones she had nearly mastered already. Initially she worked only with Antho and Master Grii, but as more Jedi arrived, some of them were more than proficient with their lightsabers. When someone had produced some training weapons, she got to practice against different fighting styles and different levels of ability.

It wasn’t until someone suggested she try wielding two lightsabers, one in each hand that she really became comfortable in combat. Once the second blade was ensconced in her hand, she began to understand deeper aspects of her latent talent, and her abilities began to truly please her. During the hundreds of hours she practiced, whether forms or sparring, she became more fluid in attacks and defense. Eventually, even the Jedi blademaster Grii couldn’t reliably penetrate her defenses and found himself overwhelmed by her swordsmanship. So he brought friends. At first they engaged her two-on-one, but the figures escalated to three and four. She didn’t always win against the stacked odds, and the more opponents she faced, the less likely her victory became. But she continued on anyway, pleased with her progress and delighting in the way she could temporarily forget about her ongoing confusion relating to the sudden appearance of her biological family.

Hilaal spent as little time as possible with her mother and father. They were exceptionally nice people, but there was an awkwardness to all of their conversations that made speaking with them almost painful. Her Great Grandfather Jeb was another story. Often he would come and listen to her spar with the Masters, shouting encouragement from the sidelines. Occasionally he offered suggestions, but Jeb was no warrior and most of his thoughts were naïvely rooted in inexperience. Hilaal still found his input heart-lifting, and his spoken support pleasantly welcome.

While some of the Jedi still worked in the Temple’s ruins, they also left a series of eyes and ears behind to secretly watch over the remains. The bodies of hundreds of Jedi were found, many of them the broken husks of respected Masters and loved companions.

Every day on Dantooine, the memorial by the cobbled-together communication array grew as the rubble from the Temple was lifted away, revealing more bodies and adding more names and more heartache. Among those Masters who were still unaccounted for were Masters Yoda, Pul, Hruuvokka, and the head of Jedi Archives, Master Davip. Those names were foremost on the list of hopes that one day they might step out of the shadows and come out of hiding. The deeper the recovery effort dug without finding the bodies of those four key Jedi was another day of growing optimism, in the Republic and throughout the Order.

Though the Jedi were supposed to be above sorrow, having so many lives lost brought many to uncontrollable tears. They tried not to let the farmers see their pitiful sobbing, but after losing friends and teachers to such a senseless event, emotions were too raw. Over the months, all the Jedi shored up their tender passions, returning to balance and the compassionate serenity demanded by the Order. Some were unable to do so on their own; some resorted to the physical reassurance of close friends, sharing beds and unsanctioned intimate moments. Though such couplings were an anathema to the old Order, and despite being displeased with them for their actions, the temporary Council now lead by Master Grii couldn’t bring themselves to stop it. Better to let it happen now than to destroy their fragile emotional states permanently. In the future there would be punishments and repentance, that was a given. For now, it was a necessity of their situation that they must remain united, for a divided Order would surely fall.

While there were no overt signs of Sith remaining on Coruscant, not even the most optimistic Jedi believed they were gone.

Though Master Grii had never told her, she knew that soon all the Jedi would return to Coruscant and join their brothers and sisters in picking up the pieces of the Temple. Every Jedi’s senses tingled with apprehension at doing so, for what would they find? Would they uncover Master Yoda’s broken body? Would they have to endure another assault from their enemies? And would that attack come sooner or later? Nervous worry ate at all the Jedi as they contemplated their future.

War was contrary to the Jedi Code, but the survival of the Order was paramount for all the civilized systems. With the Jedi, there could be peace throughout the galaxy. The tales left behind by the Sith left little doubt of their barbaric natures and the brutal regime that would encompass the galaxy, should they be left unchecked. Those who weren’t keen to bring the fight back to the Sith were willing to support the Jedi from the sidelines, offering to be a part of supply transportation or healing the wounded, or scouting.


Battle was coming, no matter what preferences the Jedi might have held. There was a growing percentage of those who were excited by the prospect of war. Though there were very few Jedi truly motivated by revenge, the Masters spent a great deal of time reaffirming their self-defense only stance. These Sith must be destroyed, they insisted, but not at the cost of each Jedi’s good intentions. They were reminded to embrace serenity and compassion, but not to shirk their duties as gardeners removing the murderous weeds.

____

It was well past midnight when Hilaal found herself unable to sleep. Moving as stealthily as possible to keep from waking up her bunkmates, she eased herself off the hard floor, out of her stifling hot blanket and tiptoed her way through the winding corridors of one of the apartments the Jedi had been given. As she softly sat on a stump to put on her boots, she glanced around. There were few others stirring at this time of night and she was able to speed her way through the common area of the enclave. She had hiked over the flat farmland for almost three kilometers before deciding she was far enough from anybody to interrupt their sleep with her form work.

She ignited her trophy weapon, the one she had earned at the lightsaber tournament all those centuries ago. The viridian blade shot forth, permeating the still air with a crackling hum and a soft green light. Blue illumination joined the verdant as she activated her original lightsaber, the one she had illegally built over the course of years and finally been able to finish with Pelt’s sanctioned help. Hilaal blinked away the comparatively pleasant memories of the past and began her kata.

All thoughts drained instantly from her mind as each blade moved in bright arcs, tracing vibrant patterns into the night’s sky. The smell of clean air mixed with organic fertilizer faded away, as did the soft chirping of insects. Eyesight was unconsciously acknowledged but not utilized as each of her blades tore through the stillness of the night, banishing silence as well as the invisible enemies she was soon to face. Her motions became more furtive and much quicker as she pressed her body beyond its mortal limits. Time slowed, her perceptions were expanded as she more deeply committed herself to the Force.


She could well have spent hours practicing before Hilaal’s senses detected the human sentient sitting fifty meters away. Her blades fluidly stopped mid-form, and the tip of her blue lightsaber whipped upwards towards the intruder.

 

Nice and plausible progress on recovery, both literal and figurative. Nice details on the various coping strategies, definitely necessary after such a large devastating loss.

Interesting too how Hilaal still feels awkward with her birth family, although not a surprise.

 

Thank you!

On with the show!

________________


“Who is it? What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice flat from irritation at being interrupted.

“Nothing,” came the young man’s answer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Naan?” Hilaal asked, discerning the young man’s identity. “What are you doing here?” she repeated, unsure of what to say or do. Hilaal hadn’t spent any time at all with Pelt’s first choice of apprentice. While Naan Chudo hadn’t picked on her any more than her other crechemates, he definitely had given her a hard time when she needed it the least. That being understood, though, she felt sorry for him. To be rejected after being all but promised a position with the Jedi must have been heartbreaking, and Hilaal understood heartbreak all too well.

Naan’s civilian clothes rustled together as he shrugged. “I wanted to watch you.”

“Watch me?” she asked as she closed down her weapons. With a practiced hand, she shifted away the spiky branches of a blba tree and leaned her back against it, watching the dark outline of Naan from ten meters away.

“And talk with you, I guess.”

“About what?”

There was a hesitation, as though he had more than one topic on his mind and he didn’t know where to start first. “Pelt,” Naan finally said, bitterly. “He won’t leave me alone. Every time he sees me, he’s in my face telling me how sorry he is for not choosing me, how he let me down. And he did, you know. He couldn’t have surprised me any more if he had stabbed me.”

“I was just as surprised as you were. I expected to be the one in your position.”

Hilaal could see Naan drop his head to look at his fingers. “Well, I guess he made the right decision. I’ve overheard some Jedi saying how you’re one of their brightest hopes for the future.”

Instinctively she had understood her importance, but she ignored it, never paying any attention to her supposed destiny. To have it said aloud made her sound as arrogant as Pelt seemed, as far as she was concerned. “I never asked to be chosen, or to have any responsibilities. I wonder if I would have been happier if I was the one in your position.”

Naan didn’t answer.

“Then again,” she continued. “All the students at AgriCorps wouldn’t be alive, if their lives depended on me. My Force abilities aren’t as developed as yours are. I hear you’re the one who got the survivors out.”

He nodded, though she sensed no arrogance from him. “I just knew they were coming.”

“See?” she said. “Besides, even if I did sense them coming, I wouldn’t have had the courage to tell anyone.”

“You have that courage now,” he noted softly. “You’ve grown into a worthy Jedi. I’m sorry I picked on you so much when we were younger.” The way Naan held his head, she could almost sense the wry grin of his expression. “And no, I’m not just saying that now because you could beat me to a bloody pulp with your hands tied to your feet.”

That brought a smile to her face. “Thanks.”

“So what should I do about Pelt?”

It was her turn to shrug. “Talk to him. I know how much you meant to him, and how much it hurt him to pick me over you. I don’t know if he’s told you or not, but he didn’t pick me by choice. The Masters forced him to.”

That got a reaction. “They did?”

She nodded, knowing he could barely see her.

“But why?”

“Apparently I’ve got a destiny,” she muttered, unable to hide the bitterness from her voice. “I guess the Masters couldn’t let someone with my abilities go. Especially not now. And who cares what I want.”

“You don’t want to help the Jedi?”

“Well, I didn’t mean that. I’d rather be out of the spotlight, helping transport food or the wounded. Being their front line in a war? I don’t know. The prospect excites me, but I’m worried that I’m excited about that, you know?”

“I guess. For what it’s worth, everybody speaks of you with awe in their voice. I can’t believe how far you’ve come. It’s a big change from being the timid little girl hiding in the corner to the one everybody’s relying on for the battle to come. Pelt has done a good job. I’d guess he did pick the right Padawan.”

Hilaal didn’t know how to handle that statement, so she ignored it. “I’m sure he would have done equally as well with you. Just…talk to him, let him explain. He hid his emotions well enough, but I know how much he’s been hurting because of what you think of him.”

“All right.”

Hilaal sensed Naan as he heaved himself back to his feet and began walking towards her. When he was close, he crouched low and put a hand on her knee. “While you’re too much of a Jedi to not forgive me, I’ll just tell you how sorry I am anyway. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, nobody who tortured you does. But I’ll try to find a way to earn your respect someday. Thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”

With that, he stood again and hurried away. It seemed like Hilaal could still feel the pressure of his hand on her leg in that familiar gesture. The sensation left behind excited her, and at the same time terrified and irritated her. She suddenly felt almost as odd around Naan as she did with Antho.

Antho. She shook her head amusedly and out of her pocket she pulled the stuffed sand panther he had given her. Antho had been her shadow, trailing her whenever he could get away from his own Master. Given his abilities with a lightsaber, Rameera had insisted he spend as much time as possible with Hilaal and her trainers. From his diligent hard work, Antho had become almost as good of a swordsman as Master Grii. In another circumstance, away from her presence, Antho would have astounded the whole Order with his skill. Even now, he was able to take her down, though on rather rare occasions.

Hilaal shook her head to herself, puzzled by the conflicting emotions she had. From the moment she had met him, Antho had been nice to her. That rarity in itself was enough to make her fond of him. He never talked down to her, even though he was three years older than she, and far more experienced in life and utilizing the Force.

Occasionally he provided her with surprisingly insightful comments, either about the Force, her bladework, or one of the Masters teaching her. His intentions towards her were questionable, sometimes treating her like a close friend, others as though she intimidated him in some fashion. Every time he touched her, it seemed awkward, like he wasn’t really in control of his own body. No, that wasn’t it. More like he didn’t know how to touch her in the way he wanted to. Or maybe he was afraid of getting a limb sliced off.

Still rather shy, Hilaal hadn’t been able to initiate first contact, either. While she tried to accept Antho’s advances openly, she wasn’t sure how well she was doing, or if she should be enjoying the sensations at all. The Jedi Code was a constant thorn in her side that made her ungainly interest in him even more foreboding.


A powerful yawn cracked her jaw, reminding her she needed to sleep. Not quite banishing the thoughts of Antho, she leaned her back and head against the tree behind her and wrapped her arms around the stuffed sand panther and closed her eyes.

 

Terrific! Just wonderful and candid between Naan and Hilaal. Even though Pelt didn't have a choice in his selection, he made a good one indeed and I think their relationship has grown big time from the "I don't wanna be here" stage that it started with. She certainly knows he isn't as arrogant as he either used to be or appears. Woot on the Antho musings. Definitely a mixture of emotions there, looks like on both sides.

 

love her talk with Naan. And Antho? Thoughts of a Jedi in love?

 

This is just a quick note to say that I'm still here, still reading and still hooked, even if I don't quite have enough time to leave proper reviews right now. And sooo many exciting developments in these last three chapters! All this is an awful lot for Hilaal to process: family, destiny, boys... No wonder she feels a bit overwhelmed. I love how, in the middle of all her being special, you still show her to be a normal teenager with her questions, her doubts, and even that streak of childishness when she hugs her plush and goes to sleep

 

Welcome to adolescence. When confusing gets confusinger and never turns around again. I know I haven't figured much out since.

Maybeeeeee

No problem, Chyn. I know how time flies. And you don't even have to be having fun.

Thanks for reading, everybody! Next post...now.

Hours later, a gentle hand shook her awake.

“We wondered where you were,” Antho said, relief awash on his face as he crouched close by her side.

“Hnh?” Hilaal started, arms cramped from holding the panther so tightly. As her blue eyes met his, she couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here and exhausted myself too much to walk back.”

“You still take that thing everywhere?” he asked, running his hands along the panther’s soft back.

She blushed and shrugged, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, Antho and Pelt were the only two who knew how attached to the panther she was, and her Master didn’t know who had given it to her.

Antho stood and held his hand out to her to help her up. “Come on. They sent me to look for you. Apparently there’s big news.”

She stuffed the animal into her pocket and accepted his hand. “Thanks,” she told him as she accepted his assistance and rose.

When he made no move to let go of her, she didn’t try to shake him off either. Together they walked towards the communications relay, perhaps slower than necessary, silently enjoying each other’s presence. He squeezed her hand before regretfully letting go, just as they rounded the corner that brought them into view of a dozen Jedi.

“Hilaal! There you are,” Master Grii said. “Finally we have some good news. We found Master Davip, alive and relatively unharmed. He’s advocating all Jedi return to Coruscant as soon as possible to reestablish the Council there.”

Her heart soared initially, but then her countenance fell back to normal. She had hoped they had found Master Yoda. Even Master Hruuvokka, or taciturn old Pul would have pleased her. Though she hadn’t thought of him for months, there was something that Hilaal didn’t particularly like about Master Davip, despite his friendly indifference to her.

“Master Davip managed to save the Archives before the Temple crumbled. Don’t ask me how, because I spent as little time in the Archives as possible, but apparently there was some kind of contingency in place that sent our sensitive data several kilometers under ground. So it was undamaged by the explosions.”

“Yes, Master,” she told him.

He noted her neutral tone, but didn’t comment. “We’re gearing up to leave. With any luck, the ships will be prepped by evening and we can go home. As unofficial liaison between the Jedi and the Farmers, I’d appreciate it if you let them know that most of us are leaving. Soon the Jedi will regroup and then we’ll take down these bastard Sith aggressors.”

Being able to go back to Coruscant sent another spike of uncertainty through her body. Odd as it was, she had begun to think of Dantooine as home, even if she hadn’t figured out what to make of her parents yet. “Yes Master,” she repeated. Grii turned away, freeing her to leave.

The whole way to her family’s apartment, Hilaal tried to figure out what she was going to tell them. She had been subjected to their presence several times, mostly because it would have been impolite for her to leave. The longer she had been forced to talk to them, the less they felt like the strangers who had sent her away. Between Pelt and her parents, it was impossible to not feel loved on all sides. And there was little room to doubt the sincerity of the Yuchees’s affection towards her, or their true sorrow at having to send her away. Though there was no way for them to know it, Hilaal was beginning to like them.

“Good morning, Hilaal,” her mother said, greeting her at the door with a warm smile.

She tried to hide her surprise. How did she get to their apartment already?

Hilaal gave the woman the best smile she could manage. Though she feared it was going to be fake, she realized that it was a true grin that reached her eyes. “Hi…Mother.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she reached out to hold Hilaal, though when Hilaal didn’t step into the embrace, she dropped her hands to her sides swiftly. “And to what do we owe this privilege?”

“The Jedi are headed back to Coruscant,” she answered simply. “And I have to go with them. Would you tell Father that I’m leaving?”

She shot Hilaal a motherly glare. “I’m sure he would rather hear this from you.”

Hilaal nodded. “I know. But the longer I stay, the less likely I am to leave. I…kind of like it here.”

The admission sent another gambit of emotions coursing across her mother’s expression. “Well we’d love it if you came home, child. We all miss you.”

“I was taught not to miss you,” Hilaal answered, fighting a grin. “But I might, anyway. Tell Father for me, and my brothers?”

“All right, Hilaal. Will you ever come home again?”

She intertwined her fingers together and glanced down at them, fighting the blush that threatened to creep across her features. “I…I’d like to. I’ll do my best. But I have to survive, first. Something tells me that might be a lot harder than it sounds.”

More moisture welled up in her mother’s eyes. “We know, Hilaal. We know. You’ll always have a home with us.”

Hilaal fought tears of her own, unsure of why her emotions were running so rampant today. “Thanks,” she said, stepping in to accept a firm hug. Afterwards, she turned around and strode out of the room. Before her mother could close the door, she stopped. “There…might be some Jedi who aren’t planning on leaving,” Hilaal said.

“We suspected, daughter. I’d say there were more than a few unsanctioned babies made here.” The amusement in the woman’s voice was blatant, but sympathetic. “All Jedi are welcome at our farm at any time. Especially you.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, Mother.”

“Goodbye, child.”

As Hilaal raced away, beginning the search for Pelt, she realized she really was sad to leave her home. Maybe she would come back one day, though the danger she felt lurking in the back of her mind since landing on Dantooine hadn’t had a chance to dissipate. In fact, now that she knew they were leaving, her mind’s warning voice was louder than ever.

Still, she planned on holding onto the promise. If she survived, she would come home, at least for a little while.

__________________________

It took a full hour of traipsing around the farm before she found Pelt. Hilaal was about to call out to him, but she noticed he was deeply concentrating and in hushed conversation with Naan Chudo. She quickly turned to leave, but Naan saw her and stood, beckoning her over.

“Hilaal, wait.”

“Sorry,” she replied, slowly coming to stand with the two men. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all right,” Pelt answered, breaking into a warm smile. “We were just discussing something that concerned you too, so it’s good you’re here.”

Hilaal nodded dumbly. “What is it?”

“I’ve asked Naan if he’d like to be my unofficial apprentice, at least until you’re promoted.” He saw her wide-eyed expression and hastened to explain. “I figure, with the current state of the Temple, they can’t afford to ignore potential apprentices and let them slip away. Besides that, I’ve seen more romantic trysts in the last week than I have for my entire life in the Temple, so if they’re ignoring one serious breech of protocol, they shouldn’t bother me with mine. The Order doesn’t really need to know. I wouldn’t dream of doing this without your permission, Hilaal, and we both agree that you shouldn’t feel any pressure to accept this.”

They say they didn’t want to put pressure on her, but they sure did. She probably should have expected Pelt to do something like this to her.

On one hand, there was no real reason for her to refuse. Pelt had given her enough self-confidence to get through most days, even after the fall of the Temple. Over the last few months, most of her time was spent training with the weapon masters anyway. But for some reason, she felt like she would be sharing her Master with another and she didn’t want to do that.

After another moment, she realized she was being selfish. If she wasn’t deriving anything from Pelt other than his company, then how could she deny Naan the chance to learn from him and become a Jedi?

“All right,” she agreed. “I haven’t been much of an Apprentice anyway. You taught me how to dress nicely and do my hair, and after that I’ve spent all my time with other instructors…”

“Don’t say that. You’re ready. You’ve been a very attentive Padawan, and you’ve learned everything I’ve tried to teach you. You’ll do very well as a Jedi Knight.”

“What?” she demanded. The way he said Jedi Knight, it sounded like she wasn’t a Padawan anymore, or wasn’t going to be one for much longer.

“You forgot that part, Pelt. What he meant to say was, he’s going to recommend your promotion.”

Pelt looked confused. “Didn’t I say that?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh. Well I meant to. Hilaal, you’re more than ready to be a Jedi Knight.”

Her heart leapt for joy. If Master Grii agreed, she would be the youngest Jedi Knight in at least four generations. Though her martial training was intense and as complete as possible, her other abilities weren’t very advanced. While her inherent ability with Force powers was small, there was definitely room for improvement. Doubt took hold of her, causing Hilaal to realize the Masters probably wouldn’t agree.

In the case of Naan, though, she had convinced her heart to agree with her mind.

“Naan deserves a place by your side, Master, he always has. I won’t tell anybody you’re training him, whether or not they accept your suggestion.”


“Thank you, Hilaal. I couldn’t be more proud of you for the adult way you’re laying aside your emotions. Come on, let’s go.”

 

Super duper post. Her mature way of reflecting and putting her emotions to the side shows she's ready. And that she's learned quite a bit besides dressing nicely & doing up her hair fine. Reminds me of "My Fair Lady"

 

Love Pelt and his different views on the Jedi way. They should have adopted them in later years. And Hilaal sure is growing

 

Thanks you two! Sorry this is late. I can't believe it's Thursday night.

This one's big, sorry in advance. Hope you enjoy!

____________________

“Are you kidding?” Grii asked, incredulous. “She’s only thirteen.”

“She has shown great wisdom, Master, and learned everything we could teach her,” Pelt argued.

He looked contemplative. “I’m not sure she’s ready. She hasn’t had a lot of experience.”

“Be that as it may, I think she’s ready to be a Knight.”

Grii rubbed his chin with his forefinger for a moment before shaking his head. “No, sorry, not yet.”

“I urge you to reconsider,” Pelt replied firmly. “Don’t make me resort to blackmail.”

Stormclouds built across the Master’s features. “What do you mean by that?”

Pelt shrugged. “Promote her, or I’ll tell her to kick your ass, Master.”

Slack-jawed shock greeted this statement for a couple of moments before Grii finally broke into a deep belly laugh.

“Your point is well made. Hilaal Yuchee, you are promoted to Jedi Knight. Congratulations.” He turned his stern gaze onto Pelt, pointing his index finger at him threateningly. “And don’t think I didn’t see through what you were trying to do. You may take Naan as your Padawan learner, but if his head starts getting as big as yours, we’ll poke holes in both of your skulls to deflate you and we will sever your partnership. Agreed?”

Pelt and Naan bowed as one. “Yes, Master. Since I might not be able to see the forest for the size of my head, I only ask that you tell us if you notice that happening.”

Grii nodded. “I can do that. Now, get on board. We’re almost ready to get out of here.”

The three bowed together and began walking up the ship’s ramp.


Hilaal’s chest was beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. Just like that, she had been made a Jedi Knight! No longer an apprentice, her options had been opened wide. She couldn’t wait to tell Antho.

___________________________


The small host of Jedi transports simultaneously blinked out of hyperspace over Coruscant space and began heading for the landing pad near the Temple. As an indication of their support, the Republic sent a handful of antiquated fighters to meet them at their hyperspace egress point, escorting them the entire way into the spaceport that had been cleared for Jedi use only.

Newly promoted to Jedi Knight, Hilaal walked confidently on Pelt’s left side, just behind Master Grii. Rameera and Antho were closely spaced on Pelt’s right. Waiting just beyond the exit of the spaceport was a wildly cheering crowd, welcoming the hundred or so Jedi home with holo-banners and gleeful chanting. From his place in front of the crowd, Master Davip sat awkwardly in a hover-chair.

He looked a little the worse for wear. According to his report, he had been trapped between the recessed Archives structure and the rubble above, left with only a few square meters of living space for months. Having called on the Force to support him, he was able to withstand the time alone with only a tiny air hole, which he had somehow made himself. He was forced to rely on beetles and other insects that found their way into his prison for nourishment, and an incredibly deep suspension trance to keep his body alive.

Despite his starvation, he didn’t look as badly as Hilaal expected him to. There was definitely something different about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But was there any wonder why, after all he’d been through? The man’s face was still as wrinkled as ever, looking like it could melt off his skull on a warm day. Bright eyes twinkled in barely disguised glee in the yellow sun.

Davip stood and reached his hand out to the approaching host of Jedi. All his limbs seemed perfectly steady, a sign of the man’s inner strength. “Master Grii, welcome home.”

Grii bypassed the hand and went straight in for a back-pounding hug that flipped the old Master’s much longer-than-it-used-to-be white hair about. “Good to be back,” he said, thumping firmly. “Congratulations to you for surviving your ordeal. I doubt I’d look as good as you do, if it were me in there. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Davip replied, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ve had a few dozen good meals since my rescue, enough to put more padding on my waistline again.”

Many people began chuckling, but the laughter was brittle. Hilaal couldn’t convince herself to join in.

“Come! See how the craftsmen have done in clearing away the rubble and rebuilding our Temple!” With that, the ancient Master sat back down, turned his hovering chair around and started threading his way through the streets of cheering civilians. The Jedi all but ignored them as they solemnly marched towards their former home.

The loud celebration continued as they walked, preventing any real conversations. That was all right with Hilaal, for she had a lot of turmoil rolling around in her guts. It didn’t make a lot of sense, either. They were back on Coruscant, they were home. Why should her danger sense be having a full-blown panic attack?

Her eyes flickered back and forth across the crowd searching for anything that could threaten the Jedi again, before she realized it they had rounded a corner and now stood in full view of the damaged Temple.

Mountains of crumbled permacrete and debris left over from metal framing were piled hundreds of meters into the air where the statues of Jedi had once stood on normal approach up the stairway. Each stack was huge, perhaps slightly above the limits of safety. As they passed, the debris shifted slightly, causing a soft echoing cascade of smaller rocks inside the debris mountain. The welcoming red carpet that once lead to the grand entrance had been replaced, though it was littered with little fragments of stonework and crushed white powder. The air was full of dry gritty dust, the irritating lungs of everybody who didn’t cover their breathing orifices.

The Temple itself was vastly improved from the holos taken after the explosion that Hilaal had seen. Gone were the broken circular foundations of all five towers, and the kilometers high pile of destruction that had littered the Temple’s main structure. Instead, repulsor-powered scaffolding was in place, climbing hundreds and hundreds of meters into the air. There were four new towers under construction, climbing kilometers above the initial foundations being laid again.

Sensing the solemnity of the situation, the crowd fell silent as the Jedi gazed upon the beginnings of their home. All seemed lost in thoughtful memories. Some couldn’t hide their sorrow at what had been lost, but most were more optimistic, ready to begin again.

Master Davip dismounted his hover-sled, standing firmly on his own feet and spoke, finally breaking the spell of silence. “We were able to get some over-powered repulsor sleds in position to lift the Archives back up to main floor level, but the engineers were unable to mount them onto the main structure. With two dozen of the most powerful Jedi, we should be able to lift it enough to give the engineers a chance to slide them underneath it.”

Grii nodded, agreeing.

“I waited for you, old friend, because I knew you’d want to be a part of it. Otherwise, I’ve chosen the other Masters to help us.”

“Thank you, Master Davip. I’m honored.”

Davip gestured and twenty-three other Jedi broke away from the hundreds that stood a respectful distance away. Master Grii nodded as each drew close enough for him to make out who they were. He agreed with each selection, for each Master was indeed among the most powerful and most influential Jedi who had been accounted for.

“Come, my friends,” Davip said, turning to face the makeshift entryway. “Today we’ll take another step to return our Order to its rightful place of glory.”

As the twenty-three other Jedi followed Davip, Hilaal followed Master Grii who was bringing up the rear. She had no intention of doing so, but her legs moved of their own accord.

Immediately sensing her, Master Davip turned.

“I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “There isn’t any room for Apprentices today.”

“Hilaal Yuchee has been made a Jedi Knight on my authority,” Grii replied. Davip stiffened suddenly, his eyes hardening along with his body. Master Grii didn’t seem to notice, as his attention was still on the young Jedi. “But I don’t remember hearing your name called to be a part of this, girl.”

She offered a meek shrug of her shoulders and met his eyes firmly. “Masters, I must be a part of this. The Force will not permit me to remain behind.”

“I cannot vouch for your safety, child. The construction isn’t entirely stable yet. I strongly urge you to turn back.”

Hilaal bowed slightly. “I can’t. The Force is very clear in what I must do. I’ll take my chances within.”

Davip scowled and looked like he was going to object further, but Master Grii put a restraining hand on the ancient man’s shoulder. “She’ll stay out of the way. What harm can she do?”

With the murmured agreement of a handful of the other Jedi, Davip unwillingly relented. “As you wish. But if anybody else approaches the site, I’ll punish them myself,” he said. His comment drew laughter from the crowd, but Hilaal could sense no humor behind the words. “Come.”

Together they walked through the unfinished halls, with scraps of stonework and metal piled in neat bundles in preparation for use. There was only the outline of roof work with no actual flooring in place above them, allowing the warm sun to filter through the scaffolding, lighting their way.

Soon they stood in front of a great hole in the floor. It was a massive gap, stretching hundreds of meters in all directions. There was no construction directly above the Archives, allowing the many floors of the building to be integrated with the current rebuilding process. Though there was nothing in place to serve as the replacement floor for the Archives, the repulsorlifts would do until they could rebuild the mechanism that had allowed the Archives to break away from the main Temple, should another disaster strike.

“My friends, please take your places.”

Twenty three Jedi spread out through the Archive’s landing-way, some situating themselves equidistant apart along the walls, with others taking up stances in the corners of the room. Small sealed rooms, presumably ‘freshers or supply closets separated many of the Jedi from each other as they each began focusing, finding their centers. Davip took up position right next to Master Grii. Unwilling to leave Grii’s side, Hilaal stood to the Master’s left.

Davip brought out a comlink. “Are your men in position, Master Foreman?”

“We’re ready, sir.” The com signal was fuzzy, due to the fact that the men were far underground. “As soon as the building is lifted, we’ll slide the repulsors underneath it. I’ll leave our comlink open in case there are any troubles.”

One by one, each Jedi closed their eyes and held out an arm, indicating their readiness to begin. “I will lead the flows,” Davip called out, his voice firm and loud. “Stand ready!”

Suddenly there was an impossibly powerful surge in the Force as all twenty-five Masters exerted their will on the Archives. Strain showed on each Master’s face as they lifted the immense building in concert with their fellow Jedi. Construction scaffolding on all sides groaned from the power being wielded.

The crackling comlink erupted in astonished shouting. “Great space, they’re really doing it!” the construction foreman exclaimed. “Hurry! Hurry, slide them under!”

Force energy wobbled out of strain as the twenty-five Masters tried to hold the building up and steady enough for the workers to do their bits. It seemed like minutes were passing, though Hilaal couldn’t be sure of that, but eventually the construction crews were able to do their part.

“We’re done, Masters,” the foreman panted, his breath heaving as if he had single handedly lifted the thing. “You can let go.”

Hilaal saw each Jedi sag with relief, obviously drained from the experience. The only one who didn’t seem as tired was Master Davip, though there was still exhaustion there. Though she briefly wondered why, a powerful anticipation drove all other thoughts out of her mind.

“You may begin raising the Archives,” Davip said.

Meter by meter, the structure began its long return to the surface. The higher it got, the more Hilaal’s unease grew. She glanced about at her fellow Jedi. Unable to see the facial expressions of the Masters on the far end of the gap, she turned her gaze to the ones she could see. Naked hope was plastered on all faces, human and alien alike. They lacked any sign of the terror she was beginning to feel.

Hilaal’s hand brushed the stuffed sand panther in her pocket as she unconsciously reached down to stroke the hilts of her lightsabers.

As she concentrated on the other Masters’, the only one who noticed her prying glares was Master Davip who grinned at her.

It was not a nice grin at all. Hilaal was suddenly assaulted with the realization that such an event should have some sort of ceremony. There wasn’t even a single journalist or holocam buzzing about.

Worthless, you are worthless, undeserving of life at all. Death won’t even welcome you to his oblivion, but he will take you because the Force will not. You’re so pitiful, so weak.

Hilaal swayed dangerously, nearly taking one step that would have sent her on a fatal plunge. No! she cried to herself, dismayed. After all that time, how could the voice be back? As her head wobbled limply on her neck, she saw Davip looking at her, his expression missing all traces of compassion. His stare was mocking to the point of laughter.

She offhandedly realized that none of the other Jedi had reacted to her stumble. They were so focused on the Archives building it began levitating back to the surface that there was no room in any of their conscious minds for anything else.

Just like there was no room for anything inside her head other than that jeering voice. Her balance reeled again, nearly pitching her face first into the hole, but the combat instincts drilled into her over the years allowed a subconscious steadying footstep, dropping her into a firm stance.

At that moment, there was a hitch in her inner taunting voice, as if whatever was controlling it had been brought to the limits of their power.

Hilaal’s unfocused eyes roved over Master Grii’s awe-struck expression as he stared down the hall, before gliding unsteadily over to Master Davip’s snarl.

Hilaal’s mind surged with understanding. Davip was the one who had been trying to destroy her mind from the inside—today and from the years past. He was the one who had always been present or nearby when the worst of her self doubts struck. He was the one who had been trying to take her out of the picture for almost a decade.

Finally having a source to defend against, Hilaal’s mental shields snapped into place. With a much steadier gaze, she looked up at Davip again.

Gone were all traces of his multitudes of wrinkles, along with any compassion his brown eyes might have once feigned. Though his expression radiated surprise, it swiftly changed to anger and hatred.


The inhuman screech that shot from his lips sounded like a rancor’s war cry. Though they were still a dozen meters from resurfacing, the roof of the Archives rippled with movement. As ten humanoid figures leapt out of the hole they held bright crimson lightsabers clutched in human or alien fists. The sealed doors to the ‘freshers and supply closets banged open discharging more humanoids. The red flashes of rapid blaster fire smattered into the inattentive Jedi, cutting a dozen down where they stood before anybody could react. Though obviously firing, the blasters made no noise, as if someone had found a way to disguise the unmistakable sounds. Dark Jedi moved in pairs to engage those who managed to evade the first volley. Still pinned down by the soldiers firing at them, the Masters were caught off balance, stuck in a position that wouldn’t let them defend themselves effectively.

 

Wow. Just. Wow. A wolf in sheep's covering! Right there!

 

Davip sure is evil

 

Nothing like the in-laws coming to make you forget what day it is. Gotta zip, but lemme throw this up. Thanks for reading everybody!

Hilaal’s lightsabers cleared their hilts at the same time Davip’s blade sprang to life. As though utterly stupefied, Master Grii hadn’t reacted yet. Davip’s weapon arced towards Grii. Unable to Force-propel him away quickly enough, she leapt in and side-kicked him through the doorway. Her foot and Davip’s blue blade met his torso at the same time. The pungent smell of ozone and broiled flesh struck her lips as Grii flew back, but Hilaal had no time to worry about him.

Davip struck at her with a form she did not know. Quick footwork and instincts born out of months of hard practice barely turned the blow aside, but still allowed her to counter with both her blades. Davip snarled and his strength was suddenly amplified, as dark hatred coursed through his veins. His size over her, combined with this new, brutal muscle allowed him to pound her blades out of position. Reacting quickly, she evaded his counter-strike and let her weapons fluidly return to a guard stance, pasting blue and light green glows on the now-raised walls of the Archives. Their once wide-open space was suddenly much smaller as the stone walls were lifted into place, penning them in between old and new construction.

Dodging another series of attacks, she countered once again, anticipating when Davip would turn her strikes aside. She let the strength of his parries increase the momentum of her blows while taking power from the Force to accelerate her movements to strike at him.

Davip deflected and struck with an impossible speed in a blinding series of attacks that should have penetrated her defensive blade screen, but her lithe figure and innate talent was just enough to turn the onslaught aside. Hilaal stepped towards her sudden enemy, attacking with all the fluidity she could muster, driving him back. Sweat began to bead on his brow, but she was beginning to tire, too.

Davip engaged her again in a series of attacks that required a great amount of effort to turn aside. “Kill him!” he shouted as their three blades collided again and again, sending sparks flying wildly, digging deep tunnels in new and old stonework with each miss.

Suddenly understanding what Davip had meant, Hilaal disengaged, flipping gracefully backwards towards the archive room’s exit. Her blades a blur, she bisected two blaster-toting soldiers before they could raise their rifles. Two lightsaber wielders moved to engage her as she held control of the doorway, preventing a clear shot at the wounded form of Master Grii as he slowly tried to sit up.

Compared to the brutal skill of Davip, those two Dark Jedi were paper warriors and lasted only seconds. Hilaal stepped forward to challenge Davip again, but he had leapt away, powerfully twisting his body in arcs to land hard on top of the Archives’ roof with his lightsaber still ignited.

“Come, girl,” he beckoned, flourishing his weapon. “Grii is dead, or will be soon. It’s time you met your destiny.”

The sound of tromping feet came from either side of her. For a moment her heart soared at the prospect of reinforcements, but then she realized the soldiers and Dark Jedi pawns that had struck down the other Masters were hurrying around the corner, racing for her.

She could escape to the relative safety of the duel against Davip, but doing so would spell certain death for Master Grii. She hesitated and the choice was taken from her as the soldiers opened fire.

Hilaal’s small frame filled the doorway as if daring the dozen warriors to pass her. As she deflected blaster bolt and lightsaber strike, Davip’s mocking laughter assaulted her from dozens of meters above. Her blades were a blur as she was forced to focus on her defenses, able to take only infrequent attacks at her enemies. Minute by minute and one by one, her opponents fell, but that was when another worry took hold. While she barely had the attention left to notice, it seemed like the Archive was rising again.

Able to spare only the slightest glance upward, Hilaal thought she saw a massive transport above her. As her body fought off the invaders, her mind processed the image more closely. Huge cargo bay doors gaped open and a faint blue light encompassed the Archives, originating from a point somewhere inside the ship. Slowly, the building began to edge further upwards, beyond the designated level.

The sounds of her battle with the soldiers and Davip’s laughter were slowly overpowered by the whine of powerful repulsorlifts as they grew closer.

With both of her blades twirling swiftly, she stepped forward and cleaved three of the remaining four enemies. The final Dark Jedi, knowing there was no way to win, sprung backwards, jumping onto scaffolding and taking a mighty leap onto the roof of the still-rising Archives building.

Knowing her limits, Hilaal didn’t try to match his maneuver. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. She watched with slack-jawed horror as the Archives continued to rise. The building was almost a hundred meters off the ground now, only a few dozen meters away from being completely engulfed in the ship’s cargo hold.

From far above, there was an agonizing cry, barely audible over the sounds of the ship overhead. “You!” A small object flew from the top of the building. Capturing it with the Force was instinctively done, bringing it into her hands.

“What the hell is going on up there?” the device squawked.

Davip’s comlink! “Decrease the power of the repulsorlifts!” she ordered. “They’re trying to steal the Archives!”

As the foreman did as she commanded, there was a creaking moan from the starship overhead as it tried to fight gravity.

“Decrease a little more, but don’t cut the power! If the ship loses hold on the structure, we don’t want the Archives to be destroyed.”

“Yes Master,” the foreman replied, confused by the sudden change of commands, but complying.

A small explosion rocked the enemy transport, causing the hovering Archives to begin falling, with the barely-powered repulsors only slowing gravity’s pull slightly. Hilaal felt like her stomach was falling with the building.

“Reengage the lifts, now!” The building began tilting hard to one side, but the construction workers were able to level it out fairly quickly. “Bring it back to surface level.”

Blue ion trails were all that marked the abrupt departure of the starship as it raced away from the temple construction, blasting her ears with the power of the engines. For the moment, she was content to let it go. Her primary concern was to save the collection of knowledge gathered by the Jedi.

As the Archives came to rest where they would be amalgamated into the rest of the Temple’s structure, a small figure leapt off the roof. Hilaal immediately ignited one of her lightsabers, prepared to defend herself again, but the hilt nearly dropped out of her hand when she recognized the sentient.

“Master Yoda!”

Tattered robes and fresh wounds marked his green flesh, but his large eyes were bright and alert. “Destroyed, I did, the tractor beam. But back underground, should the Temple Archives go for now.”

Hilaal nodded firmly and complied.

“As you wish,” the foreman said, voice ripe with irritation.

“Master Yoda!” Hilaal repeated, amazed. “We thought you were dead!”

“Greatly exaggerated, the reports of my death are,” he answered with a very small smile. “But tired of losing Jedi, I am!”

Sympathetic sorrow briefly gripped her mind, but worry of another kind took over. “We need to help Master Grii! He’s injured.” Hilaal raced back through the doorway to help support the coughing figure of Grii, who was holding the painful-looking stab wound in his side.

Before she could start tending to him though, Yoda was already there with a three-fingered hand on the man’s chest.

“Relax, you must,” Yoda told him, helping the man to lie back down flat. “Serious this wound is, damaged his lung is.” Grii’s body rose under the control of Yoda’s Force energy. “Hurry.”

Together, the two of them ran pell-mell through the labyrinthine Temple reconstruction. Hilaal deactivated a hidden force field that had kept other Jedi from joining in the sudden melee, allowing the two to gently bring Grii’s floating, wounded frame out. Cheers greeted Master Yoda as he emerged from the building first, but they were quickly overridden by confusion and worry as the prone body of Master Grii followed. Everybody began simultaneously demanding to know what was going on.

Master Rameera and Pelt quickly reached Grii’s side, unable to convey the pleasure at seeing Yoda again with their friend so grievously injured. Jedi who had taken over the Healer roles began racing over as Yoda spoke softly to those gathered around.


“Betrayed us, gone to the dark side, Davip has.” Yoda ignored the startled objections of his companions. “A plan I have, but hurry we must.”

 

Love to see Yoda helping and coming with a plan

 

Yay for Yoda and of course he has a plan. And is there anything sadder than someone from their own ranks turning traitor?

 

Yoda's amazing, for realz, yo. Thanks for reading! Next entry...now!

“Betrayed us, gone to the dark side, Davip has.” Yoda ignored the startled objections of his companions. “A plan I have, but hurry we must.”

“But Master, we don’t know where they’re going!”

As the Healers muttered medical jargon together and started carrying Master Grii away, the Jedi could only spare them a momentary glance.

Wise eyes glanced over at Pelt. “Entrenched on Tython, they are. Seen their base, have I.”

“Then we’ll need to gather warships, fighters.”

“Need those do we not.” Pointing out Jedi from the crowd, one by one, Yoda selected them to accompany him. Hilaal’s heart surged as she became his first selection, followed by Rameera, Antho, Pelt, and a handful of other Jedi Hilaal whose names she didn’t know.

With his followers in tow, Yoda raced towards the starport, explaining his plan as they ran.

Pilots hired by the Jedi to stand by crowded around them as they arrived, asking how they could be of service. After a few moments questioning, Yoda ascertained which pilots were the best, and which ships were the fastest and most maneuverable.

Quickly, Yoda separated the Jedi into three ships. In the first ship, he selected the Jedi who were known for their blade work, again beginning with Hilaal. Antho and three other Jedi she didn’t know were added next.

“Under Hilaal’s command, this mission is.” Startled expressions clearly displayed all the Jedi’s shock, since two of the three were experienced Masters she knew on sight from their reputations, and should have normally been in control. “For all of you, this is,” Yoda told them, passing Hilaal a data cube. “It is the Temple’s blueprints and footage of Sith, training at their academy on Tython.”

Hilaal’s eyes opened wider. “Thank you, Master!” Learning the basis for the enemy’s combat forms would be a great help in defending against them. “But why me?”

“A true warrior do we need leading. The Force will be your guide, but Hilaal, follow your instincts you must. At close hand, your destiny is.”

Unable to say anything else, she could only nod. The Jedi who were supposed to be under her command—with the exception of Antho and a Rodian—gave her unreadable glances.

“May the Force be with all of us. Go!” Yoda and the other Jedi divided themselves among the two other ships. Rameera cast a worried glance at her apprentice before hurriedly following Yoda.

Hilaal took a deep breath and addressed her team. “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.”

As she raced up the ramp to the ship that had been selected for her, she wasn’t sure if any of the others would follow. Why should they? Though she had been promoted, Hilaal still thought of herself as a Padawan. Soft doubts began niggling at her in the back of her mind, but she gave a mental shrug and forced them away.

Hilaal should have expected it, but Antho was directly behind her. He was her shadow, as he had been since Dantooine. A handful of meters behind, the other three Jedi hurried into the ship, their plain brown robes flowing behind.

The ship began to rise the moment they were all on board, rising to go join the other two craft as they raced towards the edge of the atmosphere. Hilaal sat in a large round crash couch with a holo-emitter in front of it. They should all be able to watch the Sith training footage together. Her stomach knotted up as she tried to shake away the shyness that had suddenly returned. Why did it seem to go in waves?

The four Jedi joined her, buckling themselves in as the worst of the atmospheric turbulence began rocking the ship. Three elder Jedi stared at her, making no secret of their curiosity. Two humans, both men in their late thirties or early forties looked more unconvinced than the middle-aged Rodian who seemed to be harboring a knowing smile.

“Will you follow me?” she asked them all, nervously.

The blue-skinned Rodian Jedi was quick to answer. “We don’t doubt Master Yoda’s wisdom, Hilaal, though there are times I doubt his sanity,” he said with an amused smile on his proboscis-like mouth. Big black eyes blinked, and he nodded, sending his antennae bobbing slightly. “He chose you for a reason. That’s good enough for me.”

The two other Jedi nodded thoughtfully, perhaps not entirely convinced, but unwilling to go against Yoda’s orders.

She nodded. “You know who I am, but I don’t know you. This is Antho,” Hilaal said, touching the young man’s arm lightly.

“I am Jyruk,” the Rodian replied.

They waited for the other two to introduce themselves, but they didn’t seem interested, so the Rodian did it for them, shooting each an irritated look.

“And these two talkative humans are Bennelag and Gervais.”

“That’s Master Gervais to you,” the black-haired man told Hilaal firmly.

Jyruk’s irritation intensified. “Look, we don’t have time for a pecking order. Either heed Yoda’s orders and follow her, or stay behind.”

Perhaps ten years younger than Gervais, Bennelag nodded after a moment’s thought. “I’m in.”

Gervais sneered. “I’m not going to let some thirteen year old lead me to my death.”

Hilaal couldn’t really refute the charge, but Jyruk retorted immediately in her stead. “Now you listen here, Master Gervais. She’s the best swordsman in the Order, trust me when I say that. You heard Yoda’s plan. We can’t let any of the Sith escape and Hilaal’s our best chance at taking them all down. I’m sure she’ll listen to suggestions, but she has the final word.”

With a self-depreciating shake of his head, Gervais acceded. “Fine. But I don’t have to be happy about it.”

“No, you don’t,” Hilaal replied quickly. “Let’s just watch the holo, okay? We’ve

got a lot to learn.”

 

Very realistic bit of vying for dominance there and ego-bruising there The Rodian is a good and sensible ally.

 

Hilaal sure can lead

 

I can't believe I missed so many amazing updates, and so much happened while I wasn't reading! Hilaal was promoted, Davip's plot was revealed, Yoda turned out to be alive all along, the Sith tried to steal the Jedi archives... Just wow.

Hilaal has come such a long way since the beginning of this story -- she is able now not only to take on a full attack force of Sith, but she is also able to set aside her doubts and accept her family, accept Naan as Pelt's student, chuck Davip out of her head and even lead a group of Jedi into battle. That Master Gervais needs to bring down his ego by a notch or two, by the way.

Yet in the middle of all this, she is still so very much a child carrying a stuffed panther in her pocket and touching it for luck before a climatic battle. It's so cute!

Plot-wise, there were a few interesting details in these chapters as well. First of all, Davip knew that Hilaal has a special role to play, as did Yoda, but of course he used that knowledge for different purposes, obviously. Second, it was interesting to see that the plan of the Sith wasn't only to destroy the Jedi, but also to steal their knowledge -- and who would be better placed to do that than the man in charge of the archives? I sense that there's an intriguing bit of backstory for Davip here. And, lastly, what has Yoda been up to? Apparently, he hasn't only been busy surviving, but he also managed somehow to sleuth around and gather information about the Sith.

Can't wait to see how Hilaal manages her mission. Methinks that Master Gervais is going to get a run for his credits!

 

I figure you gotta have at least one helper on every team! Thanks for commenting and reading!

Thanks.

Thanks for stopping by and for your nice compliments! Life sure has changed for our intrepid little warrior.

....NEXT!

The many hours of training that Yoda had managed to record were almost up by the time they dropped out of hyperspace. All five of them spent most of their time in front of the emitter, absorbing every little nuance about the Sith’s techniques that they could, often pausing the playback to recreate their movements with their own lightsabers in the middle of the starship’s common area. It was during that time that Gervais begrudgingly admitted that Hilaal was probably better with a blade than he was. Getting him to admit to it was like trying to suck marrow out of bones without breaking them first.

The five Jedi now sat in the oversized cockpit with the pilot. They were scheduled to come out of hyperspace within moments.

“If Yoda gets us killed before we can land, remind me to file a protest against his plan,” Gervais said, his dry tone making it unclear if he was joking or just being fatalistic.

Jyruk chuckled, choosing to take the comment as a jest.

“Here we go, Masters,” The female pilot announced, a second before throttling back.

As one, the three ships entered realspace, quickly moving into a triangular-shaped formation and pouring on the ion thrusters. As per Yoda’s plan, they raced towards the massive debris field that surrounded the blue planet.

Their scanners bleeped an alert. “I have two capital ship contacts right behind us. Looks like they’re moving to close.”

“Maintain speed and heading.”

A tense minute followed as the ships continued their escape. “They’re gaining on us,” Hilaal’s pilot noted.

“Worry not,” Yoda said over the comm. “To safety we will make it before intercept, they can. Besides, want them closer, we do.”

Obviously still nervous about the plan, Hilaal’s pilot began muttering to herself.

“A hundred kilometers until we’re within the debris field.”

Bright red trails of enemy laser fire followed them, though the extreme range took most of the accuracy and damage potential out of their shots.

The closer the Jedi got to the huge ring of starship hulks, the more Hilaal noticed the debris’ steady tumble being altered. When they were a scant kilometer from the field, not only was there an opening for the three Jedi transports to shoot through, wreckage began making arcs towards the enemy starships. Few by few, chunks accelerated towards the capital ships. From the way some of the debris was suddenly nudged away, it was apparent that there were Force-users on board, but they weren’t able to turn all the projectiles away.

“Cover you, we will,” Yoda said to Hilaal. “Capture Davip if you can.”

“Yes Master,” Hilaal answered. “May the Force be with you.”

Yoda didn’t answer. Instead, they heard one of the other pilots reading data off their scanners.

“Master, three more capital ships are coming around from the planet’s far side. They’re launching fighters. What do you want to—” The transmission suddenly surged with static as Hilaal’s ship penetrated the edge of Tython’s atmosphere.

“I’m surprised they don’t have defensive batteries on the ground,” Jyruk commented, noting the lack of anti-aircraft fire as they approached the previously abandoned temple.

Nervous enough already, Hilaal was glad nobody had mentioned that before.

“I’ll have you on the ground in a minute,” the pilot told them.

“Ha!” Antho said. “No wonder we thought the temple was overgrown with foliage from space. They painted the temple’s walls.”

Now that they were only a kilometer away, they could see the hastily done color job.
“How many Sith were in there?” Bennelag asked anxiously.

“Dozens. Possibly hundreds, according to Yoda’s report.”

The Jedi Knight shook his head. “And he sent five of us to deal with them all?”

Gervais shrugged. “Better to send five rancors than five hundred womp rats.”

Hilaal let the small grin cross her lips. “I like that analogy.”

“All right, time for you to leave,” the pilot said, her words punctuated by the soft bump of the ship hitting a flat space on the temple’s roof. “Are you sure you want me to take off?”

The five Jedi hurriedly unbuckled themselves from their restraints. “We’re sure. If you don’t, someone will undoubtedly come for you, and I’d rather have my escape vehicle in one piece.”

Hilaal was the first one out of the cockpit, but she still heard the pilot’s shouted encouragement.

“Good luck, then. Signal me when you’re ready to go.”

After the Jedi filed out, the ship began rising, accelerating quickly towards the relative safety of the ships full of Masters. A trio of fighters suddenly materialized and began chasing after the transport, but Jyruk and Gervais acted quickly to slam two of those ships into the center one, destroying all three.

Hilaal was already half way through slicing a hole in the ceiling. Another few seconds brought the loud clatter of durocrete dropping heavily onto the floor, followed quickly by the five Jedi.

“Which way?”

Hilaal consulted her datapad. “This way, towards the main council chambers. That’s where Master Yoda figured Davip would go.”

Gervais gave a careless flick of his wrist and spoke in his typical dry tone. “Carry on then, brave leader.”

Keeping both her weapons unignited but in her hands, Hilaal shook her head and raced on, doing her best to ignore the flit-flies cavorting around in her stomach. She had hoped there wouldn’t be any resistance until they made it to the old council chambers, but she knew better. After traversing only about a quarter of the way, blasters whined, sending dangerous bolts of energy towards them.

Instantly, lightsabers snapped to life and began reflecting fire at the soldiers. Unwilling to take cover, the Jedi advanced in a careful trot, batting blasts harmlessly away from themselves and back towards their foes when they could. Occasionally, reflected blasts would hit the crouched enemies, but their jet-black armor was potent enough to absorb a blast or two before giving way.

Jyruk walked behind Hilaal, letting her take the brunt of the attacks. That allowed him to concentrate on yanking the blasters out of the soldiers’ reach. One or two at a time, weapons went skittering across the smooth wooden floor, including the enemy’s secondary blasters and holstered pistols.

Finding themselves suddenly disarmed with Jedi practically on top of them, the dozen soldiers charged, planning on hand to hand. That idea was not a good one, for they were all struck down in seconds by the Jedi’s whirling blades.

Hilaal looked down at the three soldiers she had killed, expecting to feel the emotional pain of taking a life. Almost every Jedi she had ever talked to had admitted that killing, even in self-defense, had shook them to their core. As defenders of life, it was the Jedi’s duty to preserve every sentient being’s existence, even those who wanted to kill others. Killing was used only as a last resort. Rather than feeling that pain, however, Hilaal felt only numbness. Perhaps she would regret her decisions later, when she was capable of actually thinking again, and her adrenalin wasn’t flowing so freely.

They took a quick moment to catch their breath before continuing their run. The next couple of corridors were blessedly unguarded, but the next one held what seemed like an entire regiment of troops. The excessive amount of blaster fire winging towards them was far too dangerous to try to wade through.

“Now what?” Gervais demanded, glancing at Hilaal as he deflected fire away from the small portion of his body that wasn’t covered by durocrete.

“I don’t know,” Hilaal answered, worried, but trying to feed her fears to the Force. Her mind raced, but no solutions came quickly.

Three grenades bounced into view, rolling to a stop just in front of the Jedi’s positions.

“Well that makes life easier,” Antho said, hurling all three spheres back into the crowd of soldiers. “Guess they’re not as bright as I expected.”

Before they could explode, an unseen force hurled them back.

“Or not,” Antho retorted, redoubling his efforts to heave the grenades away from them. “Help!”

Gervais, Bennelag and Jyruk were already there, supplementing his control over the devices with their own focus. With a carefully orchestrated heave, the spheres bounced once and went off three dozen meters away obliterating walls and soldiers alike. The shockwave was still potent enough to knock Hilaal off her feet and scramble her thought processes for a moment, but as Antho and Bennelag helped her back up, she shook her head clear of the worst of the ringing.

As they hurried up that corridor, they found soldiers who were on hands and knees, trying to blink through the powerful stunning effects of the concussion grenades. Decisively, the Jedi cleaved their way through the prone soldiers, making sure they wouldn’t have any enemies at their backs once they reached the temple’s chambers.

“How much farther?”

Hilaal nodded towards the way they were going. “Just another fifty meters.”

“Then let’s hurry.” With Force-assisted speed, the five of them ran through the hallway, through a crossfire that the Sith had set up at the hallway just before the council chamber’s great doors.

Energy zipped by, narrowly missing the Jedi as their speed was unexpectedly quick. The soldiers didn’t stay hidden for long. Dozens upon dozens of warriors poured out of either side of the corridor, forcing the five of them to pedal backwards, reflecting highly concentrated blaster fire away from their bodies.

“Antho and I will face Davip. Can you hold them off?” Hilaal didn’t know where the words had come from until she saw everybody’s surreptitious glances at her. She didn’t remember speaking at all, but apparently she had.

“No problem,” Jyruk lied. To punctuate his point, half a dozen crimson lightsabers sprang into view, deflecting the deflected fire the Jedi were sending back.

“Are you sure?” Hilaal asked, realizing how heavily outnumbered they were.


“Go!” Gervais insisted. “You need to take the head off the serpent.”