The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

[Goudeauboywade]

I ship it

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 7: Perhaps I Killed A Jedi​

Nerim nervously looked at Jianno from the corner of his eye as she cleaned the scorch mark from her gauntlet, wary that he'd get a bolt in the back at any moment. He knew he shouldn't be: They were in the temple. Anyone who attacked a Jedi in here would be beset by five hundred more. Yet he also somehow felt like that wouldn't necessarily stop Jianno.

"Nerim?" Arwain's voice snapped him out of it.

"Yes, Master?"

"About telepathy. Were you trying to contact me?" She raised an eyebrow.

He frowned. "Uh, yes. I was being beset by an assassin. I was trying pretty hard to get your attention."

"Oh dear. That's not a good sign," she mumbled, before speaking up more clearly, "we should work more on that. I didn't sense anything from you."

"...What, you can sense my emotions only when I don't want you to?"

She tried to hold back laughter. "No, no. I'm not sure exactly why, yet. But we should find out, for our future safety."

"I would also feel safer if I had a lightsaber that could actually cut anything," he complained.

Jianno raised her head up. "What?"

"Nothing!" He quickly said, raising his hands defensively.

"Nerim, you must wait until you can construct your own. It will only be a little while, but until then I don't trust you with a blade," Arwain replied, oblivious to his concerns.

Jianno's helmet stared blankly at him, and then she returned to cleaning her armor, cursing silently.

"Ugh," Nerim rubbed his forehead, anticipating a beating some time in the future. "Okay, but it would be really helpful if we got that worked out. I can carry a blaster, so why am I not trusted with a lightsaber?"

"It's a different beast," Arwain brought hers out and displayed the handle gently. "Not only is it more dangerous to yourself than a blaster is, but it is a symbol of our Order. To wield it ineptly is not only shameful, it also undermines the reputation we have carefully crafted. We want civilians and military personnel alike to respect our ability to handle situations when they see the blade ignite. To keep morale among our soldiers, to calm panic in our wards, and to intimidate foes out of fighting us. If a brandished lightsaber meant anything for our enemies other than graceful disarming or certain death, this would cease being the case."

"So why can I carry a training blade, then?"

She turned her back to him, sheathing the lightsaber once more. "Because I forgot to tell you to put it back in storage before we went out."

Slowly he found his hands pressing against the side of his head, as if his body was reacting to the outrage before his mind could. Finally he settled on asking, "How could you possibly forget that?"

She turned back and nervously grinned. "Perhaps the Force guided me."

"No," Nerim flatly dismissed.

"Perhaps! Perhaps not. Still, you are my first Padawan, allow me to make some logistical mistakes."

"Y—" He began to reply, before stopping himself in surprise, "Wait, I'm your first Padawan? How did you become a Master without knighting a Padawan?"

"There are other ways to be deemed a Master," she shrugged modestly.

"As in?"

"To make it so that there are no reasons for you to not be a Master," Arwain smiled another one of her cryptic smiles.

"We can talk about it some other time. The point that I must emphasize is that you require more training, in multiple avenues."

"Alright," he sighed, "So what do we work on first? Do I choose a lightsaber Form or something?"

"Hah," she chuckled, "Were it so easy. No, you don't, not right away, and especially not when we have more important things to work on. Come, sit down with me. I want you to think of things—shapes, colors, numbers, what have you, and try to broadcast them to me."

Nerim grimaced, desperately wanting to work on anything but telepathy. It felt incredibly awkward to him, sitting down and being told to play make believe until it stopped being play. Every time he was told to 'close his eyes and meditate', it left him sitting there asking himself—

"How long is this gonna take?" Jianno piped up.

"Yeah, same," Nerim mumbled.

"What?" Arwain tilted her head. Jianno was the one to answer.

"I'd like to eat dinner if possible, since you kind of interrupted it for me."

"That does sound like a good idea," Nerim chimed in.

Arwain squinted at him. "You're just saying that to get out of training."

"Oh, see, now you can read my mind!"

----------

Jianno looked with some amount of disgust as Nerim fiddled with his blaster rifle. He had at some point followed her into the shooting range only to miss several shots, fiddle with his sights until they were obviously misaligned, and use the wrong fire settings for the distance he was trying to shoot.

What's worse is that she knew exactly what he was doing, because she had done it herself a hundred times as a child. Step 1 of being a young Mandalorian: Do things deliberately wrong in front of older Mandalorians, so that their obsessive perfectionism forces them to teach you how to do it right.

Her eye twitched as he fiddled with the charge pack, trying to slot a new one in backwards. She glanced to the side, to a Jedi Sentinel who was watching the two of them with some mild interest. Jianno nodded towards Nerim, and the Sentinel shrugged as if to say "Not my Padawan, not my problem."

Finally in frustration she grunted and snatched the charge pack out of the young boy's hands, flipping it around and slotting it in. "You have it backwards," she grumbled.

"Oh, thank you," Nerim said meekly, taking the blaster back in his hands. "...Can you show me how to sight it?"

She glared at him. "You're a Jedi, you don't use blasters."

He lifted his arms up and spoke to the ceiling, as if addressing the room itself. "Why do we have this, then?" his words echoed.

"Vanity," she snorted, "And because the Republic built it for you."

"Yeah, well I use blasters, okay? That's how I won the tournament," he said, puffing his cheeks out slightly in the way he did when he was annoyed.

She grabbed the rifle, sat down, and started sighting it. "What tournament?"

"Every year, we have a dueling tournament among the younglings, to show off so a master will pick us as a Padawan. I won this year. Well, I...didn't lose, might be more accurate."

"You shot the other younglings?" Jianno asked, brow raised.

"Well when you say it like that, it makes me sound like a psychopath," Nerim huffed. "But yes. With stun bolts, obviously!"

"How'd you manage that? They don't teach you to reflect shots until you're twenty or something?" She idly asked, firing a bolt from the rifle to see how far off the sights were.

"Well, the first guy I caught by surprise during a lightsaber clash. He didn't know I had a blaster. Second time I didn't actually hit anyone, I just made us reflect it back and forth until I got close enough to take a swing while they weren't expecting it. It...didn't work."

"How'd you win, then?" She turned another screw.

He shrugged. "Psyched my opponent out, I guess. She was so worked up to get me that she stepped out of bounds, and I won by default. She woulda killed me if it was a real fight."

"Sore loser talk," Jianno scoffed and fired another bolt. "Every fight has its own circumstances. If she failed under the circumstances, then she just failed. Is what it is."

"I guess," Nerim shrugged, "But it certainly didn't make me look good, in a broader context."

She handed the rifle back to him. "At least helps my ego a bit. I had trouble with the tournament champion, not some random Padawan."

Nerim grinned as he took the rifle, lined up a shot at about a dozen meters, and missed the mark. He frowned. "I'm really not good with these things."

She sighed, knowing full well she was trapped now. "You're closing your eye. You shouldn't do that."
"What? How do I aim with both eyes open?"

Jianno shrugged. "You have to learn to see through both eyes simultaneously for what they are. Take the different information from both and form a single 3D understanding of the world. Why do you think you evolved two of the damn things?"

He tried it out. It was worse than the last.

"You'll get used to it," Jianno said. "Unlearning bad habits is harder at the beginning than getting skilled with bad ones, but it's worth it."

"Deja vu," Nerim mumbled.

"So where's the sword? The real one, not the training saber."

He lowered the rifle. "Haven't been to Ilum yet. That's where we get the materials we need. Only a Jedi Master talented at astrogation can navigate there, so all the new Padawans have to wait around until one is ready to take us as a batch. It will likely be another couple weeks."

She snorted. "Like waiting for your first beskar."

Nerim smiled at her, and then felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Hearing the doors to the range slide open, he turned to see Arwain.

"Good news, Padawan!" She grinned. "Ship to Ilum leaves tomorrow."

He furrowed his brow. "How do you do that?"

"You'll get it," she chided, "Just keep yourself open to the Force. In the meantime, Jianno, it's time for us to set out for Cato Neimoidia. There's a particular slave trafficking ring that I want to take down, and it has ties to some Hutts you might find interesting."

"Finally," Jianno's shoulders slumped in relief. "When do we head out?"

"Mm," Arwain hummed in thought, looking vacantly up at the ceiling. "Well...Now, seems good."

"Wait," Nerim raised his hands, "You're not coming with me to Ilum?"

Arwain laughed. "Padawan, no one is coming with you to Ilum. They're going to set you down in front of a cave and tell you to figure it out."

"Wha--" Nerim jumped from his seat, blaster rifle forgotten on the mount. "What do I do?! You told me I didn't have to study for Ilum!"

"I said you shouldn't study for Ilum," Arwain corrected, finger raised. "You should figure it out when you get there."
"What if I don't?!" Nerim said, running his hands through his hair.

She shrugged. "Then you don't get a crystal, I guess."

"If I don't get a crystal, I don't get a lightsaber! Then what?"

She smiled and pointed behind him. "Practice with the blaster more, is my advice. Good luck, Nerim, and may the Force be with you."

"I..." Nerim's mouth hung open, at a loss for words. Jianno slapped him on the shoulder and walked out, and Arwain laughed again.

"Young Nerim, calm is your ally. You are following in the flow of hundreds of thousands who have come before you. When you let go and open yourself to the Force, it will come to you. I promise."

He took a deep breath. "I will try, Master. But could I at least have a hint?"

She walked up and ruffled his hair. "No, you can't. To be frank, I have no idea what will happen when you get there. This is one of those rare things you have to figure out on your own. Good luck!"

Nerim watched her walk out of the room—what was, for all he knew, the last time he was going to see her before he became a complete and total, certified failure. After a moment, he turned to the Sentinel. "Was your Master this obtuse when you were a Padawan?"

The Sentinel opened his mouth, then closed it, and thought for a moment.

 

[Wretcheddskyz]

Nope not for me. The "weak in the force but uses tricks" mc is the oldest most unoriginal starwars fic cliche and it's never interesting or well done in my experience. Non force mc's are only slightly more original/interesting and that's only because they can be occasionally well done.

Click to shrink...

Damn bro a little quick, don't you think? God forbid there be a little character development first. Lol

 

[War Sage]

Considering time period am excited for this.

Ehh if the mc dosen't find a crystal on Illum there are other planets in the galaxy where other crystals can be found, heck there are more then a few of them floating around the galaxy or even alternatives to kyber crystals.

 

[RadFoxUK]

Considering time period am excited for this.

Ehh if the mc dosen't find a crystal on Illum there are other planets in the galaxy where other crystals can be found, heck there are more then a few of them floating around the galaxy or even alternatives to kyber crystals.

Click to shrink...

Fails Ilum, specialises in fighting with a blaster, later fights Sith, wins through unconventional blaster based tactics and abilities, gets tainted crystal...

Jedis' when the failure has a purified white saber.

#surprised pikachu face#

Would be funny to me at least.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 8: A Fine Addition​

Looking out the window as the Jedi transport ship tunneled through hyperspace, Nerim wondered if he might freeze to death. According to the archives, the entire planet of Ilum looked to be one giant snowball, and while they were landing near the equator it would be of little comfort.

The ship was full of newly-minted Padawans, including all of the former-Initiates who Nerim had defeated in the lightsaber tournament. The ship also contained four Knights and two Masters, all of whom were particularly tight-lipped about the upcoming destination. It was pretty significant to have this many Jedi in once place outside of the Temple, and none of the Padawans' masters had boarded.

The human girl Nerim had defeated in the final moments of the tournament glared at him, her Padawan braid hanging at her shoulder. It wasn't an angry glare, so much as an intensely focused one. She had, evidently, not expected to see him here. She scanned him up and down as if he were about to pull out a blaster pistol again, while he pretended not to notice.

The only Padawan that was brave enough to approach him was the Nautolan, Tzai. He did that thing which Jedi often did, which was to simply approach one another and smile. Apparently, Nerim gathered, the greeting of two Jedi was often made through the Force—something he was not exactly privy to. Nerim nodded to him. "So, what's your master been like?"

He grinned. "Very wise, Nerim. Kayn-Shoon has begun instructing me in the arts of the Guardians, and I'm excited to get my own lightsaber to continue the training. It's a very new experience, to be the only student in the room."

Nerim scoffed. "Yeah, it's a lot of pressure."

"Absolutely, but it's also a lot of opportunity," Tzai nodded. "And what about yours?"

He shrugged and leaned against the window to the blue-streaking hyperspace outside. "Arwain has made more progress than most masters who've tried to teach me, I guess. I'm not sure how confident she is in me, though."

"Oh? She chose you as her Padawan—she must think you have what it takes."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Nerim sighed, "She thinks I can handle 'it', but I never know what exactly it is, and she never seems to be in a hurry to tell me."

Tzai closed his eyes and took a breath. "Hm. That is a difficult question. Sometimes I struggle with it too. I'm sure that it will present itself when we are ready, however."

Nerim rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You're gonna make a great Master one day, Tzai."

The Nautolan would've blushed if he could. Then they both looked back into the interior of the ship, seeing Padawans milling around, meditating, comparing stories. "You shouldn't write them off, you know."

"Huh?"

Tzai turned to him. "I can sense you've written your cohorts off. You never try to interact with them, and there is a noticeable gulf of distance in the Force between yourself and us. Perhaps because you believe they've written you off—and I wouldn't say that you're entirely wrong in that observation. But everything is an opportunity for learning, growth, and mutual improvement. You shouldn't give up on them."

Nerim pursed his lips. "Maybe."

Tzai smiled again. "'Maybe' is all I ask."

---------

The surface of Ilum was freezing cold, especially given the lack of winter-wear beyond their Padawan robes. However, as they entered the Crystal Caves, flanked on either side by Masters, it became curiously tolerable. Not warm, their breath still fogged in the glow of their flashlights, but not immediately painful. It was surprisingly crisp too, fresh and almost fragrant, like it had just blown through a meadow, not a damp cave.

After a short journey, the Masters instructed them to turn their flashlights off, and allow their eyes to adjust. True to their word, there was ambient light in the cave, if only barely. Crystal formations and bioluminescent moss covered their surroundings in a dim glow, though faces were hard to distinguish. Then, somehow simultaneously ceremoniously and unceremoniously, the Masters simply told them to...wander off.

Wander off spelunking through a cave system in the dark. 'Honestly', Nerim thought, 'It's a miracle most Padawans make it out.'

Not having any idea what to do, Nerim stood in place for a moment and looked down to think. By the time he looked up, he realized the rest of the Padawans had immediately gone their own ways, and he was standing alone in the antechamber with the Masters and Knights. Most seemed to be meditating, enjoying the aura of the caves from their youth, eyes closed and serene smiles on their faces.

However, one of the Masters, Gendi, observed him with a bemused look on his face, visible mostly by the slight glint in his eyes. Nerim huffed in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It does not escape me," Gendi said with mirth while scratching his chin, "That for once, you are the one sitting and meditating while the others rush off ahead."

That got a halfhearted chuckle out of Nerim, and the boy closed his eyes for a moment to decide on a plan of action, and then started walking. He figured without any guidance from the Force, he ought to just take every left turn he could, so he would know how to get back out again. So Nerim wandered forward down a narrow cave, towards the darkness. "Remember the mantra," Gendi called after him.

The tunnel was narrow enough that Nerim could almost feel it scraping his shoulders, and turned pitch black for a time before exiting out into another cave full of crystals. Nerim's mind was caught in a loop, over and over analyzing the situation before coming to the conclusion that he had no idea what to do, and repeating. Heaving an annoyed sigh, he figured that he might as well recite the gathering mantra, given it was slightly more pleasant than the existential dread of not knowing who you were or where you were going.

'The crystal is the heart of the blade', he thought to himself, taking a quick glance around the room. Every crystal looked like every other crystal. Nothing stood out to him. He took another left.

'The heart is the crystal of the Jedi', he continued. This tunnel wound in a spiral, causing him to crawl up it and then slide down the other side. He was thankful that he never experienced claustrophobia.

'The Jedi is the crystal of the Force', it went on in his head almost unconsciously, fading into the background. This hollow was practically identical to the last. Shimmering blue, green, yellow.

'The Force is the blade of the heart.' Another left, another tunnel, this one much wider than the rest. Above him, he saw a somewhat rare sight; a purple crystal. He kept moving, unsure what to do.

'All are intertwined; the crystal, the blade, the Jedi. We are one.'

'We?' He thought. 'Who the hell is we?' He entered another hollow, exiting right next to a massive colony of blue crystals about as tall as he was. He flicked it, and it hummed harmonically in response. Maybe a little off-key. 'I'm one with this thing?' He asked himself. 'Sure doesn't feel like it.'

Another left. He entered a grand chasm. Looking around, he realized he was in the same antechamber they had all entered at. A loop. That complicated his 'always turn left' plan. He had a feeling there were a lot more loops in store, too.
He sighed in frustration. One of the more annoying things is he had no idea what the crystal he was supposed to be gathering would look like. He couldn't simply snap one off the wall and assume it would work; it required a specific shape, a specific composition, and a specific age, or else it would just explode. He had attempted to study beforehand, but the differences were microscopic. You were supposed to just know.

He walked to the front of the antechamber. "Masters, I don't think this is going to work," he grumbled, echoing in the open air.

And yet no one responded.

Turning on his flashlight and pointing it around, he found himself in an empty room. Nerim frowned in confusion, and spun around once more, scanning the room. Perhaps they had gone back to the ship? No, they were enjoying it in the caves. Did they go deeper in? They shouldn't, the Padawans are supposed to be alone for the ceremony.

His mind raced with possibilities, before snapping to the most likely conclusion. Something had gone wrong, and they went deeper in to confront the danger and save the Padawans. If danger had come from the surface, the Jedi would still be here, protecting the entrance; so it must have come from below. And Nerim, like always, had no telepathic skill, and was unable to contact anyone.

Logically, then, the best course of action was for him to return to the surface, and enter the Jedi starship to wait for further instructions. He jogged as quickly as he felt he could without tripping over a stalagmite, and jumped out the lip of the cave entrance.

He found himself in another unfamiliar chasm, this one with more obvious stone structures of the kind that existed in the opening. He had somehow gotten lost. He turned again and traced the walls with his fingers, trying to remember the way out. A twist, a turn, he was back in the antechamber, and took the way out.
And found himself in another chasm.

Back and forth he started running, until his lungs were burning and several minutes had passed. Meticulously tracked, he realized; every path lead deeper in. Either he was more lost than he could comprehend, or the cave had changed. It wasn't unlike the Jedi to do this sort of thing during training. Many training rooms in the Temple could rearrange themselves at the will of the Masters, forcing students to use their connection to the Force to find a way through. But he somehow doubted this sacred and natural cave system would be modified in that way.

So Nerim began looking for seams in the walls, control panels, clues left behind, footprints, broken crystal structures, anything that could hint at sentient life. Nothing. He sat down, hidden as best he could in a alcove in the wall, and tried to catch his breath—tried to decide what to do next. But his mind couldn't provide any answers.

He sat until the fear of possible dangers started to subside. The caves were empty. An entirely new fear set in. Isolation.
Nerim stood out of the alcove and began walking again, taking every left once more. But there were no familiar caves, no sounds beyond his own breathing and footsteps and the occasional crinkle of crystal. Eventually he tried shouting, and yet his voice didn't even echo back to him. He was, as far as he could tell, alone. Utterly, intractably alone.

He finally came to his last possible resort. He sat down on his knees in the middle of another chamber, closed his eyes, and tried to think as loudly as he could towards his master. There he sat for minutes—maybe hours.

Then, a sharp pain off his forehead, the sensation of ricochet. He opened his eyes and looked down, to see a small glowing green crystal. Then his eyes raised, and his breath caught in his throat. Across the room from Nerim, stood Nerim.

The mirror image of himself crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, as if waiting for the real him to say something.

The boy on his knees opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The one standing reached for another crystal on the wall, snapped it off, and tossed it at him, bouncing off his cheek hard enough to make him check if he had started bleeding. No, thankfully.

"Do something," the thrower demanded.

"D-do what?" The sitter asked incredulously.

"Anything!" The other Nerim said. "Just take one!"

"But I don't know which to take," Nerim pleaded.

The other one huffed, and in place of a verbal reply simply snapped another crystal and tossed it again, causing Nerim to raise his arms to deflect it. The cold made his skin more sensitive, rippling with pain as the sharp crystal clattered against him and then to the cave floor.

"Wh—what, this one?" Nerim asked, picking it up off the ground, rapidly approaching his emotional limits.

"ANY of them!" The other groaned in frustration, putting his hands on his head. "Take any of them! I'm practically throwing them at you and you're not taking them!"

"I don't know if it's the right one!" He protested, his voice cracking. "It has to be the right one or it won't work!"

"Of course it will work!" The standing one said, walking to another random crystal, pulling it off the wall and gesturing with it. "They're made for you, and you're made for them."

"It just—it doesn't feel right," Nerim said, close to sobbing. "It's just a rock, like any other."

"What do you mean it's just a rock?!" The standing one asked, on the verge of shouting.

"S-someth—I, I..." Nerim stuttered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "There's supposed to be a crystal meant for me. There's supposed to be something I have a connection to..."

"No, Nerim!" Nerim finally shouted, echoing off the walls. "They're ALL meant for you!"

He blinked, tears falling as fast as he could wipe them away. "B-but I'm supposed to know. I'm supposed to look at one of them and just know it's special..."

"It's all special!" The standing one said, approaching him and taking a knee. "Everything in this universe is special. You can pick any of them. You can decide, and then you will know."

"T-that's not how it works for everyone else. The other Jedi say...the crystal chooses them."

The kneeling one sighed. "All are intertwined. The others say that the Jedi and the crystal must choose each other. For most, the crystal may make the first move. But not all."

"S-so what?" Nerim said, taking a shaky breath through his tears. "I can do whatever and it will just work?"

"Yes." Nerim replied, firmly.

"Well, can I just break the rules and take two then?!" He asked rhetorically.

Nerim looked down at him, and smiled. "...From a certain point of view."

-------

Nerim's eyes snapped open, and he clutched his head. There was a single point of pain at the top of his skull, and a tink as something hit the ground.

His first instinct was to gasp for air, as if he hadn't taken a breath in hours. He glanced around wide-eyed at his surroundings, breathing heavily. The Jedi were there; Gendi, and the other Master, Knights, and most of the Padawans. Tzai blinked at him with curiosity, holding a blue crystal in the upturned palms of his hands as he sat cross-legged on the floor.

Nerim looked down to find himself sitting on his knees, and lying in front of him, a crystal. He turned to one of the Knights, who looked up at the ceiling with great interest. Following his gaze, Nerim saw a crystal formation directly above him, from which the crystal at his knees must have fallen. It was a color in between green and yellow, hard to place as either.

"Well, I'll be," Gendi said with a chortle. "Do you imagine that's the one?"

Nerim reached down and held the crystal between his index and thumb, looking at it. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say, but then he decided. "Yes."

"Didn't even have to leave the antechamber," the Knight remarked. "That one must have had a strong connection with you."

Nerim thought wordlessly to himself, gazing into it and letting his emotions settle.

With time, the rest of the Padawans re-entered the antechamber as if waking from a dream, blinking bleary-eyed and each holding a crystal of their own. With everyone rounded up, the Jedi took a moment to meditate on the gratitude they felt towards the Crystal Caves, and then surfaced into the freezing blizzard once more to enter their ship and return to the Galaxy.

The process of constructing their lightsabers was to be done on the trip back. For this, unlike almost every other facet of the Order, there were no rules; a Jedi's lightsaber was their creation, first and foremost. Most of the students had brought along components they expected to use, and there was a large store of potential backups onboard.

While the Masters focused on astrogation, the Knights assisted the Padawans. Most of the components were surprisingly simple and easy to find in myriad variations throughout the Galaxy; the difficulty of lightsaber construction was not its components, but rather how they fit together. A lightsaber could only be constructed from within, with extreme precision, necessitating the use of telekinesis. Small-scale telekinesis, that which a Padawan could comfortably perform, but telekinesis nonetheless.

Nerim had experimented beforehand from time to time with handles and grips, and had found specifications that had pleased him, so he knew roughly what he wanted the lightsaber to look like. He had studied schematics and formulated his own, and presented it to a Knight who gave him an appraising look and then a nod of approval. Now all that he had to do was actually put it together.

By the second day of the journey back to Coruscant, Nerim wanted to smash his head against the workbench, and by the third, Nerim was the only Padawan that did not have a working lightsaber when they landed at the Temple. As they lined up and walked down the ramp to exit the craft, he made no attempt to hide his sullen expression. Each Jedi and the Padawans split up to go their separate ways back to whatever duties they had waiting for them, proudly wearing the lightsaber on their hip, save three.

Nerim stopped at the entrance to the temple, leaning on a pillar and letting the breeze of the open air blow across him before he cloistered himself away in yet another metal can of a room to do yet more fruitless training. The air of Coruscant was home to him, dingy as it might seem. It had a noticeable metal twang to it, and in the lower levels it seemed to leave a thin coat of grime on your face if you looked into it for too long, but by the heights of the Temple it was merely thin, cool, and humid. Rather than hard to breathe, the air was almost over-oxygenated, being closest to the Atmospheric Reclamation Dampeners which recycled carbon dioxide to ensure the planet-city didn't suffocate.

Stopping beside him were two other Padawans; Tzai, and the girl whom Nerim had defeated in the tournament. Tzai looked at him with mild concern, while the girl looked at him with mild interest.

"Fear not, Nerim," Tzai said with a comforting smile. "You are more talented than you know. You've already proven it several times already; the tournament, the gathering...Don't count yourself out."

Nerim gave him a tight-lipped approximation of a smile in return. "Thanks."

"Perhaps you should meditate on why you gained the particular crystal that you did," the girl offered with only a hint of condescension. "Each crystal has its own implications."

"Yes!" Tzai agreed, gesturing to her. "For instance, Chey-Linn and I both received blue crystals, hinting at our nature as future Guardians. Perhaps your crystal contains such mysteries."

'Huh,' Nerim thought to himself, 'So that's her name.' He was awkwardly avoiding having to ask what it was for quite some time now, having forgotten it at some point. He, of course, spared no thought at all to the actual substance of their suggestion.

Tzai clapped a hand on his shoulder and nodded. "I have faith you'll succeed before you even know it."

-----------------

Spoiler: A/N

Definitely the longest and most experimental chapter thusfar. I was quite unconfident in writing the 'Star Wars vision quest' scene, which is largely the reason why I decided to write it. In the immortal words of George Lucas, ' I may have gone too far in places. [...] Hopefully it'll work.'

 

[Goudeauboywade]

I like the whole "there is no secret. Just choices and opportunities" very different from how it normally goes in these fics lol

 

[War Sage]

I have to say curious on why the lightsaber won't work as there could be a few reasons but I'm curious about the components.

 

[Goudeauboywade]

I have to say curious on why the lightsaber won't work as there could be a few reasons but I'm curious about the components.

Click to shrink...

he's just shit at telekinesis. Which happens a few times in the old legends continuity

 

[RadFoxUK]

I like the whole "there is no secret. Just choices and opportunities" very different from how it normally goes in these fics lol

Click to shrink...

Yeah the whole, you are a chosen one with secret mysteries revealed to you alone!

Thing gets old real fast since so many works use it...

I much prefer this style, you aren't a chosen one ya numpty, you've got a touch of the tism and see shit from another angle most don't, also you're not deficient, just psyching yourself out.

God am I ever annoyed by the Divergent, young adult, style of hero, it was fine the first 20 times I saw it used.

 

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

Despite my general extreme dislike for everything introduced in the The Clone Wars (not to be confused with the Clone Wars cartoon) cartoon, I actually do quite like the idea of Raxus Secundus, so I've adopted it into my canon. Although I can only give half-props to the The Clone Wars, because it seems pretty obvious to me that they were not actually intending to make Raxus Secundus a thing, and this was just another instance of Filoni randomly reaching for a name and attempting to overwrite some bit of canon, and we were saved by later auxiliary material insisting it was a different planet than Raxus Prime.

Chapter 9: The Ability To Speak​

It hadn't been a week, and Nerim was already in another starship. The yacht they traveled in was certainly ostentatious, with its sleek hull shined to a gleaming white and accented with the venerated deep red of the Republic. It was no cruiser, there was only space for a dozen or so—but there were only three regardless. Nerim, Arwain, and Jianno.

As Jianno safely left Coruscant's Mass Shadow and kicked the hyperdrive into gear, Nerim felt that sudden lurch he always had whenever they passed the lightspeed barrier. Raxus Secundus was their destination, a glittering utopian world of the Outer Rim. Owing to its central location on the trade routes, political stability, beauty, and multi-species population, it was selected as the headquarters of the Trade Federation, and the place where negotiations between the Federation and the government of Cathar would take place.

"Hence, our mission," Arwain explained at the end of a rather long and circuitous lecture on the political history of the Outer Rim. "If Cathar were to pull their support from the Trade Federation, it would essentially result in the entire Quelii sector seceding, and that would have a knock-on effect which would likely result in much more skepticism from the northern Outer Rim."

"So we just stand around and hope the Trade Federation does everything for us?" Nerim asked. He was already getting a headache from the fact that the system, planet, and species all shared the name 'Cathar,' and that the plural and demonym of all of the above was also just 'Cathar.'

"Not exactly. We have reason to believe that someone—"

"The Hutts," Jianno cut in.

"—We have reason to believe the Hutts," Arwain corrected herself, "are interested in ensuring that Cathar does indeed withdraw itself from Trade Federation protection."

"Why?" Nerim asked.

Arwain tilted her head. "There are so many 'whys' that you could be referring to."

"Why do we care, why do the Hutts care, why do the Cathar want to secede?" Nerim listed as efficiently as a droid. Arwain smiled.

"The Trade Federation formed the Trade Defense and Exploratory forces in an attempt to solve the perennial issues which cause the Outer Rim to lack the commerce that ensures the prosperity we experience in the Core and Mid Rim systems. That is, a lack of hyperspace lanes, piracy within those few existing hyperspace lanes, and constant conflicts between squabbling petty governments. It has done surprisingly well in this time, and done so in a democratic and harmonizing manner, so we want it to continue. Hutts, meanwhile, thrive off of parasitic actions. Piracy, slave trafficking, obfuscation, and so on. Their interests are in direct competition, and whatever weakens the Trade Federation will strengthen the Hutts."

"Okay," Nerim scratched his head. "So why would Cathar want to leave?"

Jianno snorted and craned her neck around from the pilot's seat. "Your Master was bending the truth a little about the Trade Federation doing its job well."

Arwain nodded in acknowledgment. "It has generally done its job well. However, there have been numerous slave raids in Cathar territory that the Trade Federation has failed to rebuff. If the issue cannot be solved, the Cathar will retract their membership from the Federation and reactivate their own System Defense Force to deal with the issue themselves."

"...Do you think this is a solvable issue?" He asked with a noticeable tone of pessimism.

"Of course, Nerim. The Trade Federation has simply been overextended, and have ramped up production of patrol ships in response, but the construction process takes time, and negotiations must be made with the Republic to bypass Ruusan Reformation laws on standing navies. Indeed, the patrol fleets are already on their way to Cathar, it is simply further guarantees and reparations that are needed to soothe the situation."

"So we stand around and hope the Trade Federation does everything for us," Nerim repeated. Arwain reached forward and pinched his nose, causing him to yelp more out of surprise than pain.

"Pay attention, Padawan," she chided. "Our job is to ensure the Hutts do not somehow sabotage these talks. The Trade Federation are a bureaucratic and naval organization, not the Senate Guard. If anything—anything at all, were to happen to the Cathar diplomats, then the Cathar's sense of honor would demand drastic action. Especially in light of this entire problem starting because of the Trade Federation's failure to protect them. In short, we will be the Cathar's bodyguards."

"So I stand around and hope that you two do everything for us," Nerim sighed.

Arwain couldn't help but chuckle, and placed a reassuring hand on his head. "Nerim, my troubled apprentice, you do not need a functioning lightsaber to prove yourself useful. And beyond that, your main role here is to be mindful and learn."

Arwain then stood up, and moved to the mini-fridge to grab a luminescent green drink of some sort. "Also," she added, "Jianno will not be accompanying us directly."

"Why not?"

Jianno pulled a lever to allow her seat to slide out and rotate towards the two. "Around three and a half thousand years ago, my ancestors beat theirs in a war. They haven't gotten over it."

He frowned. "That's a long time ago, to still be mad about."

Arwain pursed her lips. "Jianno is...bending the truth a little bit."

"Wha?"

Jianno shrugged. "Killed around six billion of them. There were a couple thousand leftovers. Think Darth Revan ended up taking them as pets?"

Nerim blinked. "By the Force..."

Jianno checked the time on her watch. "Yeah, they would not be happy to see me on their team. Gonna go out on my own, see if I can track down any Hutt activity. We found some Cathar slaves on Cato Neimoidia while you were getting your magic crystals, so we know the Hutts are involved in the attacks already. And if anyone is on Cato Neimoidia, they're probably on Raxus too."

Nerim took a deep breath.

----------

Raxus Secundus truly was beautiful, in an understated way compared to the Core Systems. Much of the planet was still agrarian—it was the most in the way of plants that Nerim had ever seen outside of the Room Of A Thousand Fountains, although the plants of Raxus were mostly brownish yellow rather than deep rainforest green.

Stepping out of the ship, he was quite surprised to feel the warm wind rushing against him. Throughout most of his life, wind was only cold; from the heights of Coruscant to the caves of Ilum. Warmth was something you found inside, next to industrial equipment, not tracing its way through the air and filtering through savanna grass and sparse dry leaves. It struck him as silly immediately afterwards, but until now, he hadn't quite imagined that there could be such a thing as a hot wind. Cities on Raxus Secundus were meticulously planned, much moreso than the utterly labyrinthine sprawl of Coruscant. They were glittering white circles which extended superhighways in every-which-way to connect to the other circular cities, endless farmlands between them. Even within the cities, there were many patches of green and yellow where parks and public works sat.

Jianno quickly broke off from the pack, disappearing into a crowd of technicians and dockworkers at the spaceport. Nerim followed closely behind Arwain, attempting not to lose her while simultaneously swiveling his head around to catch any sights he could. It was not long before they had entered a train, and he could finally sit down and focus on observing the world around him.

Arwain was not wrong; there were many dozens of different species on Raxus Secundus. He was used to that, having lived on Coruscant and in the Temple, but he had read before that was something of a rarity. The train was luxurious and comfortable; deep blue upholstery and silver walls with gold trim between them, surrounded on either side by windows displaying the cultivated beauty of the city.

The passengers mostly ignored the two of them. Jedi robes were humble, generic—not at all out of place on the Outer Rim, and although some might raise an eyebrow at what such lower class people were doing in the capital of Raxus if they had spared it a thought, most were too busy with their own lives to think of doing so.

Nerim's brow furrowed at the concept. He was, quite frankly, never that busy with his own life, and he wondered what they must be thinking of. It did not occur to him that they thought about their families, their jobs, their plans for the day, their favorite shows and entertainment, their homes. The Jedi were discouraged heavily from such worries, so as to always live in the now.

A sudden flash of light and an explosion caused him to jump in place. Arwain chuckled. "Relax, apprentice. It's just the rain."

"The rain?" He blinked. "It rains here?"

Arwain turned and looked out the window, towards the cloudfront rolling in. "Apparently, yes."

Nerim smiled. He had never seen rain before. He knew it existed, obviously—had read poems about it, at the very least—but the atmospheric management of Coruscant was so efficient at recycling water for the city that it very rarely made it to the point of rain. As far as he knew, it had been decades since the last storm reached the "surface" of the city world, where the Temple was.

The train came to a stop practically inside the capital building, and Nerim did not have to risk entering the rain—which he hoped was not as unpleasant when the water was liquid and warm, as opposed to frozen in a blizzard. When they entered an elevator and began to rise, Arwain spoke to him without looking.

"Now, Nerim, the Cathar are a proud and ceremonial people. Often, that means they will come off as rude, silly, and/or unintelligent. In the case of the Cathar, they generally lean on the first third of the equation. Especially now, given the circumstances."

"I'll try to keep my cool, Master."

"Good," said Arwain in a slightly uncertain tone, "That is what I meant of course, yes, but also, do not let them bully you. Remember, you are a Jedi, not a retainer. They do not have the authority to issue you orders, and be mindful of how your actions will reflect upon the Jedi."

"Right," Nerim nodded. "Uh, how do I address the diplomat?"

"Elder Jarroa," she replied. "His family are referred to as Highkin by other Cathar of his clan, but you ought not use that title, it's overly familiar for you. Just refer to them by their names, or sir or ma'am."

"He brought his family?"

Arwain nodded. "Yes, it's seen as a sign of great disrespect for an Elder to not take his immediate family with him on diplomatic missions. It would signal distrust. Don't worry, it's just two of his brothers, his wife, his child, and five servants."

"That's...a lot of people to protect," Nerim sighed in exasperation. "Especially with one lightsaber between the two of—"
He quickly closed his mouth as the door opened. The room was almost like a penthouse suite at the top of the Raxus capitol, luxurious beyond measure. Several Cathar sat in a circular couch speaking lowly to each other, and turned to the Jedi as the doors opened, falling silent for a few tense moments.

"That's why I gave you the blaster, Padawan," Arwain gave a delayed reply, filling the silence and stepping in. "Hello, Elder Jarroa. I am Jedi Master Arwain Ash-Kan, and this is my Padawan learner, Nerim."

One of the Cathar stood up, and all the rest immediately stood up with him. He walked over and reached for a handshake. Arwain carefully returned the gesture, and Nerim noticed Jarroa's claws. Cathar were similar to Bothans, it seemed, but far more catlike, almost like walking tigers with uncannily human faces. He couldn't quite tell at first if they were covered in a very short fur coat, or simply had patterns on their skin.

"Welcome, Jedi," Jarroa replied in a growling, deep voice that rumbled his ribcage. "We have great reverence for your kind, but with all due respect, I wish to know—why are you here?"

Arwain smiled. "To ensure the negotiations are uninterrupted, and to protect you in particular."

Jarroa's hard, predatory eyes stared at her with disbelief. "I have been on a thousand offworld diplomatic missions before this, and never have I even seen a Jedi. Why this time?"

The Master thought for a moment how much to reveal. "The Order has reason to believe that there are dissident elements that have been particularly targeting the Trade Federation, and your world..."

While Arwain explained the situation, Nerim glanced at each of the other Cathar. More began emerging from doors in the suite, prowling out and sizing up the Jedi. All were quite tall, and aside from one fat brother, were fit and carried weapons. Blaster pistols and stun rods. There were only two females; Jarroa's wife, and also the child, who looked to be about the same age as Nerim but a foot taller than him.

He had read that the Cathar were a martial species, infamous for their short tempers and physical prowess, and almost universally underwent a trial by combat as a coming-of-age ritual. Duels were common, though rarely lethal. It painted a rather intimidating picture, one that prompted Nerim to attempt to display all the confidence possible in response, so as not to appear as a juicy target. He crossed his arms and looked back at them. This was apparently the wrong thing to do, as they began approaching him.

Still, there was no backing down at this point. Nerim jutted out his chin as the younger girl crossed her arms to mirror his body language. "Nerim, is it?" She asked. "You're a bodyguard?"

"I am a Jedi," he responded.

"A Padawan," she clarified, much to Nerim's chagrin.

"Padawan, yes," he admitted. "You are well read on Jedi?"

She quickly breathed out through her nose. "Our kind were saved by the Jedi, most of us are schooled in the basics of your Order. I was under the impression that Padawans were supposed to be learners, not active warriors."

Nerim quickly glanced to the others, wondering why he was being addressed by the child. Perhaps, his intuition told him, he was 'below' the station of the adults, and not to be addressed so casually. The other child seemed to be the only one free to speak to him. "Generally, yes. I wouldn't call myself Knight material just yet," he said, "But I did win the Initiate dueling tournament."

She tilted her head in surprise, obviously quite curious. "Is that so? You are a lightsaber duelist? May I see it?"

Nerim heard Arwain stumble over her words mid-explanation, trying to hold back laughter. He tried his best not to look at her, because it would be obvious he was shooting daggers. He was suddenly very aware of the incomplete lightsaber hanging from his belt under his robes. "We do not draw our lightsabers unless we plan to use them on something, or someone," he said.

She narrowed her eyes, and nodded in understanding, as if he just said something wise instead of covering his ass. 'By the Force', he thought to himself, 'Is this what Arwain is doing all the time?'

 

[War Sage]

Oh this is gonna be fun.

Huh.....from what I recall around this time the Trade Federation is nothing like the one from the clone wars era.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 10: D'ya Want A Cup Of Jawa Juice?​

Nerim entered the negotiation chambers with little idea of what was happening—but he was a quick learner. By the end of the session, he had surmised that the Cathar were requesting a formal apology, reparations to be paid to the families, the dues Cathar owed to be suspended for a year, and a permanent station above that which other systems of equivalent economic activity received. The Trade Federation was somewhat amenable to all these requests, but not to the degree the Cathar wanted.

The formal apology that had been requested, which included things like 'admittance of ineptitude', would be politically inconvenient for the Trade Federation which was trying to entice other Outer Rim worlds. They had the wealth and will to forgive the dues and pay the reparations in full, and had only minor complaints about the amount of warships Cathar wanted permanently stationed around it, and the command structure under which they would operate.

It became clear to Nerim that this was, indeed, a solvable problem, but one that both sides were going to drag out for at least a few more days to extract as much as they could out of each other. However, they—blessedly—had decided to break for the day, and get back to it tomorrow. The Cathar were invited to enjoy the sights that Raxus Secundus had to offer, and the Trade Federation ambassadors bid them a good evening and excused themselves.

Nerim quickly glanced at the rooftops as they exited the building, halfway expecting to see a sniper. The rest of the Cathar had stayed behind in the suite, while only Jarroa, his fat brother, and a servant had attended the meeting. They walked between the Jedi with Arwain on one side and Nerim on the other.

"There is a wonderful orchestra playing tonight, I have heard," the fat brother suggested.

Jarroa snorted. "I suppose I could care less."

"Oh come now, surely you don't think I suggested we do something fun together," the brother laughed. "When was the last time you ever wanted to do anything? I was suggesting it because it would make your wife happy."

"Mm...Maybe," Jarroa considered as they stopped and waited for an airspeeder.

Nerim leaned forward and grimaced at Arwain, who looked back at him with a slightly concerned furrow in her brow. The speeder landed, and they flew back to the suite, which had its own small landing pad.

As they disembarked Arwain gestured for Nerim to follow inside, while she fished the communicator off her belt and called Jianno for a report. Nerim entered and sat down by a window, scanning the evening skyline of Raxus. There were mountains in the distance, and many glowing lights leading up to the city between. He glanced through the nearby windows of skyscrapers and frowned at how open they were. He had been assured the glass of this suite was reinforced to reflect blaster bolts, but tapped impatiently on the sill regardless.

Arwain entered, and sat next to Nerim. "I sense disharmony in your mind, Padawan."

"It's this mission. I never realized how impossible being a bodyguard would be. Protect a group from all possible sources of harm? I don't know how I possibly could without taking them into deep space."

Arwain smiled. "You're right, it is an extreme disadvantage to be on the defensive in this scenario. That is why it is better to take proactive steps against possible dangers. Jianno has reported that she's made contact with elements of the underworld, and while there are Hutt agents present here, they seem to be common drug smuggling operations. She will be casing the opera house to ensure its safety."

Nerim frowned. "We're going to the symphony?"

Arwain just grinned and nodded her head towards the Cathar. Jarroa finished drinking a tall cocktail and turned to his wife. "So, I was informed there would be a rare orchestra performance tonight..." He trailed off, and they watched as the wife's face lit up.

Nerim rubbed his forehead in annoyance, and Arwain chuckled. "He made up his mind the moment his brother suggested it."

"So what do we do?"

Arwain sat and thought for a moment. "First, we'll get Jianno to try her best to make some plans to assassinate the Cathar. Then, you and I study how to stop her. We have about two hours, now you find some blueprints and I'll fetch some refreshments."

----------

Nerim disembarked from the airspeeder once more, this time outside the opera house. He quickly glanced to make sure everything was safe, and then turned and offered his hand to assist the Cathar out of the craft. One by one they piled out, ignoring his offer as he felt increasingly awkward, until the young one grabbed his hand and dropped out.

"Thank you," she said flatly.

"You're welcome, Miss," he said, attempting to keep a polite face.

"Aesha," she said, finally introducing herself. "Do not take the adults' refusal as disrespect. It is dishonorable for an adult to accept assistance in battle from a child. They are uncomfortable about your involvement."

"It's not a battle yet, Miss Aesha," Nerim replied, somewhat pleased his hunch was right. "Hopefully, it will never be."

She scowled. "Just Aesha."

"Right," Nerim nodded, turning away as it swiftly became too awkward to maintain eye contact, and moving towards the opera house VIP entrance with the rest of the family. The sky cracked again, and drops began falling behind him just as he shuffled in through the entrance.

Several minutes were spent waiting as the Cathar excitedly chattered among themselves, but as the show began, Nerim felt a chill tingle up his spine. The music was interesting—enthralling, even.

There Nerim sat, gently swaying back and forth, trying not to make it too obvious he was enjoying himself so as to avoid castigation from his Master, when Aesha stood up and began to shuffle out back towards the hallway. Nerim quickly glanced to Arwain, who nodded in her direction as if to tell Nerim to accompany her, and so he stood up and followed the Cathar out.

Her ear twitched, and she turned turned around to see him following. "Problem?" She glared.

"Is there?" He asked in reply.

She leaned on the wall. "No. Just hungry. Don't like neoclassical that much. Prefer jatz."

"Jatz?"

She raised an eyebrow. "The...music?"

"I've never heard of it. How does it differ?"

Aesha scoffed. "How have you not heard of it? It practically plays in every corner of the Galaxy."

Nerim frowned. "We do not listen to music in the Temple. At least not very often, and never music from the outside world. Music is generally meant to excite the passions, which is forbidden."

Aesha stared at him for a moment, and then turned and continued walking. Nerim quickly jogged until he was walking by her side, and then spoke. "Hey, where are you going, anyways? It's not like there's a concession stand. Trust me, I checked."

"There's a diner across the street."

"What?!" Nerim said, slapping his hands to the top of his head. "You're leaving the opera house?!"

"Yes?" She smirked rather smugly at him.

"We did not plan for this!"

"Improvise."

There was a pit in his stomach, something cold and slimy that crept up his viscera. "I have a bad feeling about this. Are you out of your mind? You realize there's a reason we were sent to guard you?"

"Then guard me, Jedi."

"We are trying, but this is harder than it looks!" He protested. "When you're out in the open, there's no way I can possibly cover you from every angle."

She rolled her eyes and continued walking, and Nerim's face lowered from a frown into an outright grimace. He had heard before that the children of nobles were impetuous, but having grown up in the ever-obedient Jedi Order, he could scarcely have imagined this level of foolhardiness. His mind raced back to what Arwain had told him: 'Do not let them bully you.'

He raced in front of her and stuck a hand out, stopping her in her tracks. "Hold it right there! I can't allow you to leave. If you absolutely must have something to eat, you can have some of my rations, or I can go pick something up from a place nearby, but you can't leave the building."

She blinked in surprise, and then slowly, one sharp tooth at a time, she grinned. He was once again unaware that he had made the exact wrong move; challenging a Cathar over the pursuit of food.

Nerim felt that shiver race up his spine again, this time much faster. "Don't try it," he warned.

As soon as the words left his mouth, she bounded past him, shoving him aside and laughing as she sprinted down the hallway. Cursing under his breath, he began running after her. Her much-longer legs kept her leaps and bounds ahead of him, and when she reached the staircase, he realized he had no chance of catching up to her.

Turning to the side, he saw another set of balcony seats. He rushed onto the balcony—startling a group of well-dressed Neimoidians—and jumped off the side, grabbing onto a column and sliding down it. His comlink crackled to life and Jianno's voice whisper-shouted over it. "Nerim, the hell are you doing?!"

Once he hit the ground, he started running for the side entrance he guessed (and hoped) she was going for. He grabbed his comlink and pressed down the transmit button. "Aesha's making a break for it!"

"She's WHAT?"

Nerim slid sideways on the highly polished marble floors and entered the hallway which lead to the bottom of the stairs, just as Aesha was scrambling down them. The exit stood between them. They stood still and stared at each other for half a second.

Arwain's voice carried calmly over the comlink. "I told you not to let her bully you, Padawan."

"I'm trying damn it!" Nerim shouted, running towards her—but she was already out the door.

He scrambled out into the dark evening, almost jumping in place in surprise as he felt the heavy raindrops begin to careen into his face. Aesha turned back and grinned at him again, before dodging between parked airspeeders and beginning to scramble over the short fence that separated the parking lot from the wider street. Nerim chased after, jumping up onto the hood of an airspeeder and deftly jumping from cabin to cabin, and leaping through the air over the fence just as Aesha cleared it; she had the speed, but he had the agility—much to his surprise.

He came almost within arm's reach of her as she took off again, immediately widening the gap once more down the sidewalk. They ran until one of the crosswalks turned green, and she cut to the side to cross the avenue. He seriously considered shooting her (with a stun bolt), but worried that falling at speed would cause her to concuss herself on the pavement, and so instead he followed after, losing more and more until she quickly slinked in through a set of glass doors. Drenched in rain, he burst in afterwards, gasping for air only to find her sitting at the bar of what appeared to be a diner, laughing.

"Nice try, Jedi boy!" She grinned proudly, also breathing heavily.

Nerim quickly scanned the interior. There were only a handful of patrons—five, four of which were staring at the two of them with rather concerned expressions, and the fifth was out cold on the table next to a half-empty mug of caf.

A moment later, the doors to the kitchen swung open and an Ithorian wandered out, his eye stalks twisting slightly in suspicion of the two rain-soaked youths that had entered. Nonetheless, he politely greeted them, and Aesha ordered a Bantha burger and potato wedges, before they both turned to Nerim.

He blinked and shrugged, staring at the menu completely disorientated. "I've never had any of this before," he mumbled, feeling a strange emotion. It was like something was slithering across him, but not in an altogether unpleasant way, and perhaps like a bird was trying to escape from his chest. "What is this noise?"

Aesha glanced up at the speaker mounted on the top of the bar, and then looked back at him. "Jatz."

 

[Scholar of Time]

"What is this noise?"

Aesha glanced up at the speaker mounted on the top of the bar, and then looked back at him. "Jatz."

Click to shrink...

Disney can say what they like, it will always be 'Jizz' to me.

 

[Hyenanon]

Disney can say what they like, it will always be 'Jizz' to me.

Click to shrink...

Hah! Jatz and Jizz are actually two separate genres, funnily enough. Or at least, it was in the old EU. I don't know how/if Disney has brought it back, I would not be surprised if they changed Jizz in the nu-canon. But in the EU, Jatz was a precursor genre of music that popped up in the Darth Plagueis book, and iirc was considered outdated by the time of the movies, hence why I picked to use it here. I don't recall there being any actual description on how it sounded or if it was related to Jizz at all. I imagine it to be very disco. But that's because I like disco and it fits the bill of being considered outdated.

 

[RadFoxUK]

Hah! Jatz and Jizz are actually two separate genres, funnily enough. Or at least, it was in the old EU. I don't know how/if Disney has brought it back, I would not be surprised if they changed Jizz in the nu-canon. But in the EU, Jatz was a precursor genre of music that popped up in the Darth Plagueis book, and iirc was considered outdated by the time of the movies, hence why I picked to use it here. I don't recall there being any actual description on how it sounded or if it was related to Jizz at all. I imagine it to be very disco. But that's because I like disco and it fits the bill of being considered outdated.

Click to shrink...

If you're including EU stuff, what's the expected life span for humans and near human species?

Because humans were meant to live a while longer than IRL thanks to the Force and advanced medicines, but they changed it to the IRL ~70 years, as they made more movies and actors aged 'too fast'.

 

[Hyenanon]

If you're including EU stuff, what's the expected life span for humans and near human species?

Because humans were meant to live a while longer than IRL thanks to the Force and advanced medicines, but they changed it to the IRL ~70 years, as they made more movies and actors aged 'too fast'.

Click to shrink...

I'm pretty comfortable with 100~120 year lifespans for humans, and significant boosts for powerful Force Sensitives. Not to say every Force User is going to live to 200, but I always imagined they could age slower than a normal person if they really focused on being healthy and were lucky enough to not die or be horribly injured in combat/accidents.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 11: It May Be Difficult​

Halfway through his Bantha burger, Nerim was convinced he had to leave the Jedi Order. The conscription of his person as an infant was perhaps forgivable, but deprivation on this scale was not.

"This is amazing," he said. The Ithorian puffed up proudly.

"You've really never been to another inhabited planet before?" Aesha asked, leaned over the bar.

He turned and looked out the window back towards the opera house. "I think this is the furthest I've ever been from another Jedi before."

"Don't they take you on some sort of quest to get your lightsaber crystal?" She tilted her head.

He wrinkled his nose at remembering his incomplete lightsaber, and nodded. "Yes. My crystal was in the cave entrance itself."

She frowned. "That must be frustrating, to have your chance to prove yourself cut short."

Nerim didn't quite have it in him to agree. He simply took another bite of his food.

Aesha tapped her fingers on the counter. "I have been awaiting my trials for ages. This trip has only delayed them further. I know I am ready, yet it will likely be months before I am recognized as an adult."

He gently elbowed her. "Patience, Aesha. At least you're confident you'll make it. I was pretty certain I would fail my Initiate Trials, and they came all too soon."

She tilted her head. "You were? But aren't you the best duelist of your generation?"

Each time Nerim's victory was brought up to him, he got a stronger urge to laugh in disbelief. "There's more to being a Jedi."

She looked down at her drink pensively for a few seconds. "Is it true that all Jedi are found at birth?"

He really did chuckle this time. "There's no such thing as a Jedi baby. To be a Jedi is an affiliation with the Order, and a belief. Infants can only be Force sensitive."

"I see...but are they all found at birth?"

Nerim took another bite and thought. "Not all. Anyone born outside of the Republic, or who didn't take standard blood tests at birth can fall through the cracks. There are also some species that generally refuse to give up their Force sensitives," he said, gesturing to the Ithorian behind the bar, who nodded. "It's unknown just how many Force sensitives never join the Order."

"Is it possible I could be a Jedi?" She asked.

"No," Nerim replied instantly, only realizing a split second later that he might have crushed her. He flinched and looked at her, but she seemed to stare at him unaffected. "No one can join the Order after they're old enough to form memories," he quickly clarified, "Not that you should even want to. It's not as pleasant as you would think. It's a life without burgers or music, chasing strange Cathar through rainstorms for reasons you don't quite understand, and on top of all that it's quite thankless."

"Well," the Ithorian rumbled, "Thank you."

Nerim smiled at him. Aesha nodded slowly in understanding before speaking. "But...could I use the Force? If I tried?"

Without warning, the diner slipped away. Nerim rose out of his body, and he was back in the Crystal Cave of Ilum; surrounded by cold, glittering lights, and a breeze that felt like the breath of the world. Just as quickly, he snapped back to the diner, and without quite knowing why, he replied to her. "You already are."

Before she could respond, Nerim felt the crawling sensation again, this time much stronger. In a burst of thoughtless adrenaline, he leaped over the bar and drew his blaster—in the same instant, the doors burst open. He pointed his blaster at the figures entering, his every instinct telling him to pull the trigger; but he hesitated in doubt. By the time his eyes had decoded the information before him, it was too late.

Four aliens entered the establishment, simultaneously reaching under their long coats and pulling out blasters. Three were Weequay, their gaunt and wrinkled hides wrapped around their pronounced cheekbones and temples, each with two glints of light in their sunken eye sockets. The fourth was a Gran, three-eyed goat-like being, quite obviously bearing the marks of exile from his homeworld.

Nerim fired his blaster on stun, which burnt through one of the Weequay's coats and revealed armor underneath that absorbed the blast. The other two fired in a synchronized volley, sending stun bolts directly into Nerim's chest and Aesha's back.

Nerim fell to the ground below the bar as the Weequay began barking orders. His entire body convulsed, straining every muscle he had while playing out a kaleidoscope of colors across his eyes as his photoreceptors misfired. The Ithorian immediately dropped to one knee next to him, attempting to stop him from banging his head on the floor in his convulsions; he noticed the Ithorian also subtly pickpocket the incomplete lightsaber off of his belt, shoving it into his apron.

"Up!" The Weequay who had just been shot shouted at the Ithorian, who raised his hands and slowly raised himself while Nerim lay gasping for air on the floor. One of the shooters slid across the countertop in a fluid motion, pointing his blaster at Nerim's semi-conscious form. He opened Nerim's robe and bared his teeth as he began disarming him.

The Gran leaned over the counter and rolled all three eyes. "Didn't know that Cathar royalty kept such low company," he scoffed, while the Weequay hissed at him. The Gran then activated his comlink. "Targets pacified."

"Good," came a voice through the static, "Detain them and provide backup ASAP, it's gone loud over here."

"...Detain thems?" The Weequay asked. "Detain thems in what?"

The bounty hunters were silent for a moment, before the Gran turned to the Ithorian and gave him a sickly yellow smile. "Have a freezer?

The Ithorian huffed, staring down the blaster pointed at him as if considering if he would rather be shot than have a bunch of dirty bounty hunters stumbling around his kitchens.

Nerim drifted in and out of consciousness as he was searched for weapons and valuables, his utility belt stripped off, and then his body dragged into the back. He was attempting to blink the stars out of his eyes, propped against the wall while the Ithorian began attempting to open his walk-in freezer, when a kitchen droid spun through the doorway and banged into a wall. The bounty hunters jumped and turned to the commotion, while the Ithorian opened the door, slipped a hand under his apron, and quickly threw the lightsaber in. It clattered on the icy floor, no louder than the droid's screams of fear as it had three blasters pointed directly at it.

Upon realizing it was a droid, the Gran breathed a sigh of relief, and one of the Weequay grunted in annoyance and shot it anyways, blasting it onto its side and leaving it spinning its wheels in the air as it screamed louder. A different Weequay grabbed Nerim by his hair and dragged him into the freezer, while the third tossed Aesha in.

Nerim groaned in pain and looked out the doorway, awkwardly attempting to regain control of his limbs. He saw the Gran give the Ithorian a friendly smile and hold out his hand. "The key, plea—" He cut off, his voice interrupted by another blaster bolt, and further droid screams. His smile instantly disappeared as he snatched the key from the Ithorian, and then turned around and shouted "AIM NEXT TIME, BESH!"

Another blaster bolt, and the droid stopped screaming. "Quiet, beast," he heard a Weequay's voice, "We shoot and you not, so have no right to complain about we aim!"

The Gran slammed the door shut, and their arguing became muffled. Nerim closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself up onto his hands and knees, coughing up phlegm and shaking the static electricity out of his digits. His hand reached out and found his lightsaber, and he hooked it onto his normal belt, thankful to have at least not lost that one thing, however useless it was. When he opened his eyes again, rubbing his hands together in the cold, he looked to Aesha who was still on the floor. "Can you move?"

"Gllgkht..." She replied through involuntarily grit teeth, writhing her numb limbs until she had rolled on her side to face him.

He held his breath and stood up, allowing the pain to flow through and out of him as he had been taught. The room was lit only by a dim, low-power teal fluorescent light on the ceiling, and they were surrounded by boxes of meat and other assorted food items. There were no windows, or vents that looked large enough to crawl through.

Moving to examine the door, he found that it had no safety release from the inside; something that probably would not have been allowed in the more coreward regions of the Republic, but safety regulations were always tacitly accepted to be quite lower in the Outer Rim, even on the more developed worlds—and especially in the Raxus system.

"We're stuck," he said dumbly.

Aesha attempted to scramble up off the freezing floor, forcing more bloodflow through her numb limbs. "Digh—Hrgn!" She coughed in pain and at the sudden discomfort of the icy air in her lungs. "Did t-t-they tagh all your equipmehh?"

He shrugged. "Practically."

She managed to rise to her knees. "Call your hgh-lightsaber! Jedi can do t-that? I have read that their lightsaber always comes to them when they call."

Nerim fought the urge to bang his head into the steel door. "Not exactly."

"Damn! It happened so quickly," she mumbled to herself, rubbing her arms as her fur began to stand on end. "I do not have any technology on me. They took my datapad, my blaster, my stunrod...Only my claws remain."

"And your brain, I hope?" Nerim said, beginning to move boxes around to look for something—anything. A drain, a control panel, even a power outlet that he might be able to short out to cause some sort of emergency release.

Aesha glared at him, scowling with all the anger of which she was capable. Slowly it broke in bits and pieces; her brow wavered, her lips turned down, her eyes were unable to meet his comparatively dispassionate gaze. Rage replaced all too quickly with grief. "What a fool," she muttered, curling into the fetal position. "Perhaps I don't."

Nerim crossed his arms, unimpressed. "I told you I had a bad feeling about this."

She looked up at him, with liquid eyes and trembling whiskers. "I am sorry, Jedi. I did not think we were truly in danger."

He instinctively resisted the tugging sensation he felt in his heart, continuing to stare blankly at her. "We can only hope our counterparts are doing half as well as us," he said sarcastically, recalling something the hunters had said about 'backup.'

Her eyes widened. "M-my parents? They'll be okay ri—..." She stopped, the breath caught in her throat. She jumped to her feet and began pacing, alternating between gasping for air and keeping her windpipe shut to stop herself from devolving into tears. The nervous, useless energy of constantly circling thoughts radiated off of her and almost visibly saturated the room, even to one who wasn't all too sensitive in the Force.

Eventually, Nerim's resolve broke. 'Don't let them bully you', he repeated in his head in a parody of Arwain's voice. "Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands up and beginning the basic procedures for calming another's mind that he had learned in the Temple. "Calm down. Center yourself, breathe deeply. Take in your surroundings. What do you notice?"
She stopped, took a few deep breaths, and wrapped her arms around herself again. "It is cold," she spoke in a small, unsure voice.

Nerim gave her a tight smile and nodded. "Yeah. I can tell you're not used to it. Here," he said, pulling off his robes and gesturing for her to take them.

She hesitated for a moment, and took them with no small amount of reverence, as if she was being handed a holy artifact. He chuckled. "It's just linen."

She managed a weak, broken smile, and began to drape it over herself like a blanket when she looked down at his tunic, and gasped. "Your lightsaber!" She said, her jaw remaining dropped afterwards.

Hanging at his hip, the lightsaber was mostly smooth, with much of the metal tinted to a dark brownish color which reminded her of wet tree bark. It diverged most noticeably from the others she had seen in pictures with its slight curve, an arc across the entire hilt meant to fit the palm more comfortably.

And it was the coolest thing she had ever seen, because it was a laser sword.

Nerim frowned, internally kicking himself for not realizing that taking off his robe would reveal the incomplete weapon. "It's non-functional."

She blinked. "It broke?"

"It didn't break, it's just—ugh," he sighed heavily, sending a wave of fog in front of himself. "It's misaligned. Only the Force can align it."

Aesha practically bounced in place, grinning at him and shivering. "Great! You can use it to cut a way out of here!"

He stared at her, in much the same way he imagined her father must have stared at her when he was trying to tell her that her coming-of-age ritual would be delayed for the Trade Federation negotiations. Without a hint of reservation, she continued toothily grinning at him.

Unable to bring himself to say no, he decided to sit down and try one last time before giving up completely. She sat down next to him, wrapping herself tightly in his robe, her previous tears of panic beginning to freeze on the tips of her fur.
He held the lightsaber in his lap, and took a deep breath, reviewing the schematic he had memorized in his head once more. Each circuit, each and every transistor—they were surprisingly easy to memorize for him, even in comparison to his peers, and yet he had failed at the last leg of the journey so many times. He did what he was assured was called 'reaching out', and attempted to commune with the Force.

'Hey, Force,' he thought to himself, 'Can you help me out? I'm really trying here.'

Nothing. As his mind bounced off the task once more mere seconds in, a sinking feeling found itself in his gut. He opened his eyes, ready to quit, and looked to the side to see Aesha, still smiling at him, observing his every movement.

Something somewhere deep inside Nerim came to a realization, which bubbled up from his core to the front of his mind. She believed he could do it. She believed in him in a way he had never experienced before; for all the certainty of the Temple instructors and Arwain, there had always been certain allowances in their belief. 'At some point', they believed, he could accomplish such things.

But with Aesha, there were no such conditions, no reservations. She believed he could do it; she believed he could do it with the snap of his fingers if he wanted to.

Nerim closed his eyes again. He didn't understand much in his life, but in that moment, he understood that he did not want to let her down. He reached out, to tap into that belief she had. Another deep breath in, with a resolution that he was not going to let it go until the job was done.

He felt her confidence: In her eyes, he was not trying, he was doing.

Even in the frost, sweat began to trail down his brow, as he felt the lightsaber shifting and clicking in minute movements in his hands. He didn't dare to allow himself to wonder whether it was truly working or if he was just shivering. The schematic somehow started to come together in his head, the image moving without his direction, changing in reaction to the lightsaber itself.

When the last component slid into place, he let the breath go, steaming the air in front of himself and opening his eyes. He lifted the hilt in his hand, feeling its weight. Somehow it felt so much more balanced than it had just a moment ago. Its curvature perfectly fit his palm, and the frosted metal felt warm in his grip.

His index finger wrapped around the small trigger he had installed near the bottom of the emitter, and pulled. In a brilliant flash of yellowish-green, a blade extended its full length, slightly more than 3 feet long.

"I don't believe it," Nerim muttered.

"Amazing!" Aesha cooed in wonder. Then she blinked. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"



----------------

Spoiler: A/N

And this marks the end of the pre-prepared content I had already made. I expect updates will have significantly more time between now; I truly have no idea how long between. I can write a chapter in a day or two, the main issue is just having the time to do it. I'm already a writer in the gaming industry, and I have other writing-heavy creative activities like CYOAs I like doing, so finding a day where I'm not pooped on writing and spending it on this may be few and far between. Week or two between chapters, maybe? It will be irregular.

 

[War Sage]

Lol oh this explanation should be interesting.

But still it's works

 

[TheHoneyPot]

Very interesting angle to approach a force sensitive star wars fic with.

I am absolutely thrilled with this novelty. As well as increadibly frustrated that I have reached the end of published chapters thus far.

Awesome work.

 

[MaximusDM]

Another scrumptious Star wars fic. Watched

 

[chiefnewo]

This was very enjoyable to read. Nerim's attitude to the force makes him feel as if a normal person had been dropped into his role - sure the force exists, but does it really exist for me?

Thread watched, hopefully you have some more time in the future to write for this.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 12: Where The Fun Begins​

"Take cover," Nerim ignored her question, "This is gonna get a little hairy."

She nodded and stood to the side, tying his robe's arms around her waist—seeing as it was too small to wear.
He took a deep breath and visualized cutting the door. He had never actually used a full-power lightsaber before, much less fought with one; the closest he had gotten to cutting something was holographic exercises with the other younglings.
Of course, when there wasn't any alternative, such drastic measures were a little easier to consider doing. He briefly thought about cutting through the wall to escape out the side of the building without instigating a fight, but they weren't the only hostages he had to rescue.

He stepped forward, and in two quick slashes freed the door from its rapidly-melting frame. He kicked it forward, causing it to topple forwards, and caught his first sight of the hallway. The Gran was standing opposite the door, apparently leaning against the wall when the stainless steel Nerim had just freed burst forwards. The door was just tall enough to reach from the doorway to the opposite wall of the narrow hall at roughly neck level with the Gran, landing on his collar while he yelped in surprise.

The Gran began to push the door away from himself to slide it off. Nerim thought fast and jumped on the door, slamming his whole weight into it with a stomp of a landing. It clattered downwards, slamming into the Gran's feet and causing him to cry out in pain, crumpling over sideways onto the floor. Nerim glanced to either side, to see nothing to his left, and the storefront to his right.

"Take his gun!" Nerim called back, moving towards the entrance. Quick as lightning, Aesha leaped from the entrance and landed on top of the Gran, grabbing the blaster off his belt and placing it directly into his back and firing a stun bolt.
Nerim took another few tentative steps forwards, when a Weequay slid around the corner to see what the noise was about, gun drawn. Even the Weequay's sunken eyes seemed to bulge at the sight of the approaching lightsaber wielder, and he raised his blaster pistol and fired; this bolt was blazing red, capable of blowing an arm off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Nerim instinctively swung his lightsaber to the side and caught the bolt, blasting it back into the floor in front of them and sending a number of tiles scattering. He felt a rattling breath escape him in surprise and relief, his hands buzzing at the sensation.Aesha raised the Gran's pistol and fired it back, this time set to full power. The bolt sailed right by Nerim's side and hit the Weequay in the stomach, punting him backwards onto the ground.
Nerim ran forward and held the lightsaber down at the squirming hunter, quickly slashing his weapon in half to render it inoperable. He looked around the front, and found a dozen eyes of the civilians staring back at him—minus the patron who was still passed out on his table snoring.

"Any more?" He asked.

"No, they went across the street," the Ithorian said with a heavy, resonant exhalation of reprieve.

Nerim deactivated his lightsaber, and Aesha ran in, handing Nerim his utility belt back while she quickly put her own holstered pistol back on. "We have to get to the opera house," she hissed. Then she quickly turned to the Ithorian, his robe making a crinkling noise from the frozen rainwater inside it, and tossed the Gran's blaster on the counter. "Take the blaster and keep your eyes on them until the police arrive."

The Ithorian picked up the blaster, visibly uncomfortable at holding the weapon.

Nerim ran to the entrance and pulled the door open, stopping briefly to turn to the Ithorian and hold up his saber's hilt. "Oh, and thank you for this. Claim the damages with the Republic, they'll reimburse you."

The Ithorian's eyes turned upwards slightly. "Thank you for the patronage, Jedi."

Nerim nodded, and then ran out with Aesha into the warm rain once more. When they made it back to the parking lot, they were confronted by a panicked stampede of well-dressed citizens rushing out all the exits.

"Not a good sign," Nerim muttered, looking around. "Half the airspeeders are already gone, they've been evacuating for two or three minutes already."

Aesha made a low whining noise and hopped in place for a moment like an anxious animal, before sprinting forwards and scrambling up a wall, attempting to climb up towards the second floor landing where their airspeeder was. Nerim took a quick look to the push of the crowd through the doors and then decided to follow Aesha's lead, analyzing the easiest way up.

He hopped up to a branch on a nearby tree, climbing up it until he was high enough to jump sideways off of it and land on an awning. He slid for a moment before finding purchase on the fabric, and used it to climb up a light fixture and from there grip onto the railing and pull himself up and over onto the roof, rolling under the safety rails. He noticed their airspeeder was still parked, and stood up just as Aesha hopped over the railing herself.

They shared a glance and nodded, and then ran towards the VIP entrance—just in time for it to open in front of them. Nerim slid to a stop on the rain-slicked roof and activated his lightsaber, and Aesha raised her pistol, as a heavily-armored Mandalorian exited the building.

"Oh," Nerim sighed in relief, "It's you—"

Aesha fired a bolt at Jianno, which bounced off her breastplate and slammed into the concrete roof, creating a crater and sending rubble flying.

"Wait!" He yelped, holding a hand out to Aesha as she fired another round and Jianno dodged to the side. Nerim stepped between them. "She's with us!"

Aesha lined up a third shot and then froze, not letting her eyes leave her target. "...You're working with a Mandalorian?!"

Jianno shook her head. "You two damn fools," she grumbled, looking back in the hallway and gesturing. Shortly afterwards, the Cathar family stumbled out, weapons drawn. Seeing their daughter, the parents rushed forward.

"Aesha!" Jarroa called out in a sharp voice, stepping around Nerim. "Are you hurt?"

Aesha shook her head. "Nothing serious. Are you—"

"We're leaving," Jarroa said, grabbing her by the shoulder and leading her to the airspeeder. Arwain was the last to exit the building, lightsaber lit and suspiciously glancing around, then setting sights on Nerim and straightening up in surprise.

"Padawan! Your lightsaber!" She shouted over the rain and the din of evacuation, walking towards him. She glanced to Aesha as she was shepherded into the airspeeder, then back to him and smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, Nerim. I'm proud of you. Now, let's leave."

They all boarded the speeder and felt it lurch as it took off, Arwain in the pilot seat. It was a tight fit; Nerim sat on the floor, as there were no more seats left with Jianno onboard, who sat opposite the family along with the noticeably-shaking Cathar servant. Arwain opened a link with the local police, who arrived on scene mere a split second after they took off. As she explained the situation to the authorities and requested air escort, Nerim turned to the Cathar family, who nervously glanced between each other and Jianno.

After a few moments, when they were certain they wouldn't be shot out of the sky, the mother began fussing over Aesha, checking her for damage. "What happened to you?!" She asked.

Aesha attempted to bat her mother's hands away. "I'm fine, mother! I was stunned."

"What?!" Jarroa hissed, leaning forward.

"We were both stunned," she clarified, gesturing to Nerim, "But the Jedi got back up very quickly and used his lightsaber to free us! I shot two of them!"

"Three," Nerim corrected, nodding to Jianno as she grumbled and brushed at the light soot on her breastplate.

Aesha frowned, and turned to Nerim. "Why are you working with a Mandalorian?"

Nerim turned to Arwain. "Master, why are we working with a Mandalorian?"

Arwain laughed at him passing the buck. "Who better for the job?" She simply stated in a rhetorical question. "Besides, I didn't expect her to actually have to jump in. It's a miracle no innocents were badly hurt. Such an attack is unprecedented—a multi-man firefight in the middle of a crowded city? That's very nearly a declaration of war."

Jianno nodded. "They must have been desperate. My bet is the Hutts had them on a short leash and it would have been very bad for them if they didn't kill or kidnap at least one of the Cathar. Even odds that the police will open them up and find slaver bombs implanted in their spines. When they saw these little idiots run off," she gestured to Nerim and Aesha, "They figured there was never gonna be a better chance."

"Desperate indeed. Good job drawing them out, apprentice!" Arwain said.

"T-thank you?" Nerim said, nervously turning the rather unhappy-looking Cathar family. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

Jarroa made a sound that was somewhere between an exhalation and a growl, addressing Arwain. "It was an attack that investigations will find to have been undertaken by disconnected, lone-wolf elements, I'm sure."

His wife glared at Jianno alongside him. "Indeed. There would be no action to be taken against such a nebulous foe, just like all the others."

Jianno silently returned the stare, her expression unreadable beneath her helmet. Arwain shook her head. "I wouldn't be so sure, Elder."

Nerim sat up. "Surely the Trade Federation must do something? Even if the Republic as a whole will not be roused against the Hutts, this is a major blow to the Federation's credibility that they cannot afford to leave unmitigated."

Jarroa ignored him, speaking to Arwain again. "And how did this happen under the Trade Federation's nose? How is it that the Republic was so well-appraised of the threat that they sent a Jedi Master to defend against it, but the Trade Federation—a body of the Republic—was so unaware that they let it slip through their fingers!"

Arwain gently corkscrewed upwards in the air to gain altitude in the lead up to their tower landing. "The Jedi Order is aware of many things that the wider Republic finds dubious. We have been conducting our own investigations, not directly related to your case, which have hinted at Hutt interference with the Trade Federation. The evidence that they would strike at you in particular was..."

"A hunch," Jianno said.

Jarroa bared his teeth, his claws noticeably extending in anger. "An entire squad of armed hunters from Hutt space in the heart of the Trade Federation, and the only indication is a Jedi's hunch?"

Nerim frowned. "It's not like being armed is a sure sign. You should well know that it is legal to carry blasters in the Raxus system, as all of us in this speeder do--"

"It is a disgrace that we had to use them!" He replied sharply, standing and exiting the craft the moment it touched down on the landing, then storming into the suite. The others followed after, but Jianno simply leaned against the speeder and looked out over the night. Nerim stopped as he felt his Master's hand on his shoulder.

"Nerim," she spoke gently, "May I ask how you finished your lightsaber?"

He thought for a moment. "We were detained in a freezer, and had no other way out. I found the strength to do it, but...it didn't come from within. I drew from the needs of those around me. I think it was Aesha's confidence in me which made the difference."

Arwain smiled. "Good. Very good. A Jedi draws strength from acting in accordance with the world around him. Remember this, Nerim. The key to the Force is going with the flow."

He looked down at the city. "So often I feel as if the Temple has directed me to go against the flow."

She hummed. "Nerim, do you remember your survival courses? The sailing one, in particular?"

"Vaguely," he answered, confused.

"Good. When the Jedi tell you to go against the flow, they're trying to ask is for you to sail into the wind. You are not expected to sail directly into the incoming wind—or at least, you shouldn't be, if the Masters know what they're doing. You are to move at angles, arcing towards your target, sometimes in circuitous and apparently impossible ways, but always utilizing the natural world around you. You angle your sails and make use of the water to push forward, if also a bit sideways. There are times where you are not allowed to go backwards, but you may always go sideways, and that is often where you will find your answer."

Nerim looked back down at the city and thought for a few moments, and then Arwain pat him on the head. "But, forget all that. You have a lightsaber now, so you're fully equipped to ignore all the important parts of being a Jedi."

Unable to stop himself, Nerim snorted with laughter.

 

[KneelPoultry]

Good chapters!! Looking forward to the next one!!

 

[Quinn Porthos]

"But, forget all that. You have a lightsaber now, so you're fully equipped to ignore all the important parts of being a Jedi."

Click to shrink...

That. Fucking brillig.

 

[grime]

Tzai jumped to his feet as he usually did from strict obedience to the masters, but then stopped for just a split second to doubt himself, as to why he felt so compelled to do such a thing. Nerim contained a grin, having not even planned for that.

Click to shrink...

He def used dun moch there

even Dun Möch

Click to shrink...

Nvm lol, that being said, isn't Dun Möch considered a Sith technique? Would the Jedi even know about it? Well I suppose a Master would likely.

I ship it

Click to shrink...

You are so real for that.

This story is fucking excellent so far, a real gem. I also love that the Mandolorian is cool and deadly, but not to the point of fanboyism, she's obviously no match for a Jedi Master in combat. I love the Mandolorians, but so many people huff pure copium and delusion when it comes to them, Kotor, and the books proved that non force sensitives have extremely limited and shitty options when dealing with a space wizard. During the Mandolorian war most "Jedi" they killed were little better than padawans who followed Revan, while actual masters and even knights absolutely butchered them most of the time.
I'm also not trying to shit on Mandolorians ofc, I love their culture, traditions, and clannish nature in Legends.

I'm also hoping Nerim takes this last example to heart that he does have the force, and to stop overthinking things or doubting himself. So far he's proven it to himself several times already, I'm hoping he continues to make real progress in the next chapters.

 

[Alok]

It Is ok plotwise. Hope it improves in the future.

 

[Darkarma]

Okay so I love this story, I needs more chapters. Brilliantly written. Also more future Aesha? She has a good chemistry with Nerim.