ACT TWO:
Rise & Decay
It has been 12 years since the battle at Muunilinst, and the galaxy is in an ever-growing state of decline. What initially seemed like a victory for the Republic was only a small taste of what the cartels had planned.
The seeming success of the bounty hunters in filling the void left by the Peacekeepers did nothing to slow the escalation of criminal activity. The cartels, implementing their own hired hands, posing as bounty hunters, catching their own men, profited either way, whether from bounties or from their own illicit activities. These credits gained were in turn filtered back into the cartels, allowing them to hire more hands and further expand their criminal empire. The Republic, on the other hand, footing the bill for every bounty and every incarceration, began slowly losing funds, leading to an increase in taxes, further diminishing the economy, and causing more citizens to consider a life of crime.
This surge in crime began gradually, but with each passing year the cartels grew more bold, eventually taking worlds and even entire systems under their control. The Hutts and Tekdaemons, working collaboratively, each had their own territories and managed to limit petty squabbling in order to keep their expanding empire intact. The military was forced to intervene on several occasions, but with a lack of Republic funds to bring it up to its former glory, had entered into several losing campaigns on multiple fronts, eventually surrendering many worlds over to the cartels rather than face extensive losses.
A few of the more wealthy landowners had taken it upon themselves to defend their territories, commissioning private armies in order to at least keep the cartels off their land. In some cases, it had proven successful, but in many, it had not turned out well. Eulian Tratzel, successful businessman and technological giant now thought to be the wealthiest man in the galaxy, had actually commissioned quite an impressive army to defend his many holdings on many systems, an army of which no one knew the true size. Gaining back worlds previously claimed by the Hutts, Tratzel's army received much notoriety, and their success led the Republic to take a particular interest.
The Jedi remained active on all fronts, but with the bounty hunters seeming to outdo them at every turn, the Republic's confidence in them had diminished, though there was never any shortage of work in such a chaotic time.
-1-
A busy night club on the Mid-Rim world Mharkhoros, the Sleeping Vornskr was host to a variety of patrons just out to have a good time. Mostly young locals, it was hardly a hotspot for criminal activity like many clubs and cantinas throughout the galaxy. The two bounty hunters entering, then, of course drew immediate attention from a few regulars. A short Gran, followed by a masked humanoid appearing to be female by build, approached the counter, attempting to flag down one of the bartenders. A few females, a Twi'lek, a Gran, and a human, seated at an adjacent table, were looking intently in the direction of the duo.
"Hey, are you a bounty hunter?" one of the females called out, addressing the Gran.
The Gran, looking behind him as if the question was directed at someone else, quickly realized it was indeed meant for him, and replied, "Well, yeah, of course!"
"So what brings you here? Are you on business, or do you have time to buy us a drink?" the Gran female spoke up, flashing him a flirtatious grin.
"Uh, I might be able to... ," he looked in the direction of his companion, who was busy still trying to get the bartender's attention. "Yeah, so... ," he swaggered over to their table, "what are your names?"
"I'm Ihla," said the Gran female, "and this is Yenni and Bre'va." She motioned to the two others respectively. "And you are?"
"Busy!" came a female voice from behind him, slapping him on the back of the head. "Will you focus? This isn't the time to be picking up cantina trash. There'll be plenty of time for that later."
One of the females, the human, hearing this and obviously offended, stood up. "What did you say?!" Slurring her words just enough to indicate she'd already had a few drinks, this could have explained her boldness. She made her way to the masked bounty hunter, staring at her confrontationally.
The bounty hunter took two steps forward, putting her masked face barely an inch from the woman's. "Okay, listen," began the masked one, "I'm not exactly having the best day so far, but it would really cheer me up to beat the crap out of a drunk bimbo such as yourself. In case you're wondering, I'm not afraid to hit a woman," she motioned up and down her own body, "so, if you'd like to put a smile on my face, be my guest, - oh, and your friends are welcome to join in - but if not, I suggest you sit your ass back down. Now!" She pointed in the direction of the table authoritatively as she finished. The female jumped back at this, and, after a brief assessment, decided she did not need to be the one to bring up this bounty hunter's spirits. Grabbing the Gran by the arm, the masked one proceeded to drag him back toward the counter, where a spot had just opened up. "I don't know why you waste your time with idiots like that, Nars," she said, shaking her head.
"I know, Karta, I'm weak," he replied, "and being a bounty hunter anymore is a real chick magnet!"
"Yeah, wish it was a decent guy magnet. There seems to be a shortage of those in the galaxy," she commented dryly.
"What about Ivis? I thought you two were-"
"I don't want to talk about it!" she interrupted. The bartender now stood before them, awaiting the end of their banter. "Uh, sorry... ," she started, then flashed a holo in front of him, a still of a seedy-looking Neimoidian. "Harritz Vesser, you know of him?"
The bartender studied the holo, then gave the club a quick scan. "No, never heard of him. Although, uh, that guy might know something," he pointed toward the back wall. She turned to see a Neimoidian bearing a striking resemblance to the one in the holo. Not saying anything, she pushed away from the bar and rushed toward him, Nars starting after her. Seeing the commotion, the Neimoidian caught sight of the two bounty hunters coming his way, and bolted.
No! They'd tracked this guy for three days already, and had come too far to let him slip away. He merged with the large crowd, pushing his way toward the rear exit. Karta moved quickly, shoving and yanking patrons, using them to gain momentum, or simply removing them from her path. Nars, trying his best to keep up, managed to squeeze in through the temporary walkway she'd cleared. The Neimoidian managed to reach the door, hurtling through it, but Karta was now close behind, with Nars trailing her. He continued down an alley, tossing a few waste receptacles in Karta's path, which effectively slowed her down enough to prevent her from closing in.
"Blast it!" she exclaimed, stumbling over one after successfully vaulting over another. It was clear the thug was not crazy about the prospect of being caught. "I didn't want to have to light you up, but you're not leaving me much choice!" she called out after the Neimoidian, who decided to continue on and take his chances. "Fine," she said with finality.
Aiming for the legs, not out of concern for the suspect but for the bounty, she let off a couple shots. The first whizzed past his leg, while the second fizzled out before it could leave the blaster's barrel, after which the blaster was unresponsive.
"Dammit, Nars, you were supposed to charge the power cells!" she griped.
"Crap! Man, I knew I was forgetting something!"
Out of frustration more than desperation, she took her blaster by the barrel and chucked it as hard as she could at the Neimoidian, not expecting any effect. However, the blaster did indeed make contact with the thug, solidly in the back of the leg, causing it to give out and him to crumple to the ground.
"Yes!" she cried in disbelief, pumping her fist in a small celebration. Karta wasted no time and jumped on the thug's back, pinning him, grabbing him by the tunic and slamming his head and shoulders hard into the duracrete for good measure. "Alright, dirtbag...," she started in, reaching for his hands in order to slap on restraints.
Before she could, however, he managed to get ahold of his vibroblade, plunging it into the side of her left leg. She cried out in pain, momentarily relieving some of the weight from that side, which gave the Neimoidian just the opportunity to rotate his body beneath her, backhanding her fiercely in the face. She fell back, allowing the thug to now move in on her, preparing to stick her again, this time in a vital organ.
"Karta!" Nars yelled, having just caught up to the two. Without thinking, he took out his blaster, pistol-whipping the thug in the back of the head, knocking him out cold. He didn't stop there, though, straddling the thug and striking him a few more times, not about to let up.
"Whoah, buddy! It's okay, he's not getting up!" Karta called. Nars abruptly stopped.
"Sorry, I," he started, panting, "I guess I got kind of upset. I don't like seeing you get hurt like that!"
She shrugged. "Part of the job. Besides, I have you, and you always come through for me in the end." Shifting her weight, she winced in pain as a sharp surge shot up and down her leg.
Nars looked at her with concern. "He got you good! We have to get you back to the ship!"
"Yeah, well let's get this guy rounded up first," she said, tossing him a pair of restraints, which he took and secured the Neimoidian's hands behind his back. Then, out of spite, he gave a well-placed kick to the unconscious thug's midsection. "Jerk!"
Once back aboard the ship, Nars helped Karta to a cot and began tending to her wound. He'd become rather well-versed in the art of medicine, leading the kind of life they had, especially with one of them being a wanted fugitive.
"Ugh, I hate this thing," she said, removing her helmet and shaking loose her long, wavy red hair. Now twenty-eight standard years old, she'd grown to be a stunning young woman, with sparkling blue eyes and a delicate face, hardened ever so slightly by the harsh reality of the world she lived in.
"Sorry I wasn't more help back there," Nars said as he applied an antiseptic to her wound. She winced as the burn set in.
"You were. You were there when I needed you most, and we got him!" she said reassuringly.
"Yeah, I know, but... well jeez, Karta, you're practically a natural at this stuff, and me, well I'm barely second-rate!"
"That's not true," she scolded, "and you know it." He looked to the side. "We're a team, and this team wouldn't work without both of our skills."
Prodding her, Nars asked, "So what are my skills, exactly?"
"Oh, come on!" she protested, but, seeing his glum expression, she went on. "Well, you're a good pilot - when you're focused," she threw in, "you're good at fixing up my wounds." He let out a huff, rolling his eyes. "Hey - you've improved a lot since I've known you, in all areas. Remember that time on Beltrus? You were in top form!"
He did remember that time, and it was true. He'd managed to take out two thugs on his own, when they'd been outnumbered five to two. True, he'd gotten in a couple of lucky shots, but he and Karta had studied a little hand to hand together, and he'd achieved at least a minimal degree of proficiency. Maybe he wasn't horrible, like he felt sometimes, but he just wasn't everything he wanted to be.
"But you know the biggest thing?" she asked. "You're always there for me, and that keeps me going. Wish I could say that much for the guys I've dated."
After living a life of concealment for eight or nine years, she'd finally allowed herself to open her heart a little, and show her face, to a few select individuals. Of course, she'd never told anyone her real name, and she was very cautious about who she engaged with. She mostly regretted it, anyway, the few failed relationship attempts only bringing more uncertainty to her already complicated life. Her most recent interest was fastly turning out to be no different.
"So, you and Ivis are... ," he started, referring to the interest in question.
"I said I don't want to talk about it," she said absently.
"Oh. Fair enough." He hated seeing her down. Ivis had seemed like a really good guy, a former Peacekeeper turned bounty hunter, with no love for the Tekdaemons - or the Hutts, for that matter. It had almost seemed like destiny; they'd both started out on opposite sides but had somehow met in the middle. She'd even remarked about this on one occasion. Still, whatever the problem was, he couldn't imagine it being on her end. He didn't know what it was like to be in a relationship with her - nor did he want to; he'd always thought of her like a little sister - but she could do no wrong in his eyes. "Well, if you ask me, none of those jerks deserve you, anyway, Karta. I mean you're really smart, you have a good heart, and you're really beautiful, for a human."
She smiled at this. "Thanks. That makes me feel a little better." She let out a sigh of resignation. "I guess this lifestyle doesn't lend itself well to long-term relationships."
"Maybe not. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"Neither would I," she agreed, though she couldn't shake the feeling that when all was said and done, something was missing.
Deep beneath the surface of Xadox, a desolate world in the Unknown Region of Republic space, the sounds of a violent struggle could be heard. It was not a battle of life or death - at least not in intent, although if that was the outcome, then so be it. Rather, it was another exceptionally harsh, yet deemed necessarily so, training session of the unknown descendent of the Skywalker bloodline, the biological son of Vhinh Skywalker. The boy in question, barely twelve, stood locked in intense combat with a full-grown man, yet his instructor, none other than Darth Sceptaurus, was quite unforgiving despite this fact. They both wore loose-fitting training robes, but the man wore a mask of chrome, hiding his entire face and only showing a glimpse of a completely clean-shaven head in the back.
"Take the opening, you fool!" Sceptaurus reprimanded the boy, Sada by his side. "Had this been real, you'd have been decapitated by now!"
The training sabers they used, different from those used at the Jedi temples, would emit a mild - though extremely painful - electrical shock upon contact. So, while no limbs were lost, at times one would almost wish they had been.
"Guard, do not go easy on this boy! Take his head off! Now!" he ordered.
The masked guard's moves grew more forceful and abrupt, as the boy strained to defend against the vicious assault. Finally, the guard was able to break the boy's defenses, and came with a sideways slash, contacting right to the boy's neck. The strike, which normally would have left a sizable welt, initially caused his entire head to go numb. That was the easy part, as then he felt a building pressure, and in an instant the pressure had expanded to where his entire head felt like it would explode, like it needed to explode, if only to relieve a fraction of the crushing, throbbing wave of pain. The sensation caused a moment of distraction, and this was enough for his master to exploit.
"More! Don't let up!" he urged the masked guard insistently. And so, the guard continued the attack, striking him two more times in his moment of vulnerability, a slice to the right arm and a thrust to the gut. This proved too much for the boy's insides, as he then hurled his meager lunch, along with a slew of bile and stomach acid, right on to the middle of the training floor. This caused the guard to temporarily step back. At this, Darth Sceptaurus exploded. "Did I say stop?! This boy has shown great weakness, and it must be corrected! Continue!" Sada had been about to speak up, but stood down at the sound of his voice.
And with that, the guard reluctantly moved in for another merciless onslaught.
"It won't go away, boy," Sceptaurus taunted him. "So be in control! Only you can make it stop!" With this, another of the guard's strikes slapped the boy hard across the face, just as the sting from the previous headshot had begun to subside. The brief numbing sensation only serving as a reminder of the agony to come, he vehemently denied this with all his being, so when the first twinge of pain set in, his mind exploded, and he saw only red. An intense anger over-shadowed all other feelings, and now, rather than writhe in pain, he basked in it, welcomed it, in fact, for every ounce of it only served to intensify his anger, which he could feel coursing through his veins, and he unleashed it on the party unlucky enough to have brought it out. His training saber now propelled by his own dark power, two quick strikes sent his opponent stumbling back nearly three meters, and rather than follow through he simply launched the saber at the former aggressor, a square body shot taking him off his feet, then drew it back to his waiting grasp. He then dashed forward and pounced on the fallen guard, following through with a flurry of unrelenting strikes, battering him long after he had dropped his defenses.
The Sith lord looked on with a smile. "And that is how it is done." he remarked to Sada, a faint smile crossing her lips.
"Impressive," she replied.
Allowing the attack to continue just a little longer, he finally raised his hand. "Enough. These men aren't free, after all," he said to the boy, who seemed to have just come out of a trance. "Clean yourself up, then clean up this mess. Then I want you to perform resistance training until your arms and legs are no longer functional. And no rations until morning," he added. "Let this remind you of your failure today." Sada, open-mouthed, blinked slowly as he said this. "Dismissed!"
Two more guards, wearing the same chrome masks and clean-shaven heads, came to gather up the other's body, whether unconscious or dead, it was not evident. Once the room was cleared, save for the two Sith, Sada turned to him.
"He is progressing well, wouldn't you say, my love?"
"Indeed, but he still has moments of weakness. This only stifles him."
She now chose her words carefully. "He is still young. Perhaps we should let it take its course."
He raised an eyebrow at this. "As it will," he said, now turning to study her. "But that wasn't your meaning, was it?"
"Forgive me, my lord," she began, using his formal title, "I only mean to say, perhaps we shouldn't push him so... allow his anger to be misdirected, at you or I. Furthermore, he is still a boy... and he's our son."
He nodded his head slowly, over-exaggerating as if expecting these words. Then he spoke sharply to her. "He is Sith! And he is not my son!" At this, she looked almost hurt.
"But he looks up to you as such," she rebutted, keeping her composure.
"As well he should, for I embody the true way of the Sith. Consequentially one of the last remaining examples, I'm afraid." He looked to her, speaking volumes.
"I am as much Sith as yourself, love," she said with precision.
"Then question your motives, Sada! Your son, yes, but Sith first and foremost. And critical to our plans of conquest! There will come a time to relish in this great union we've conceived, but remember, these are his most formative years! Early adolescence, when emotions are intense and volatile, the best time to nurture these emotions, so that he may reach his full potential. Was your training any different? Or the training you give to our guard? I cannot begin to describe the horrors I've endured in my existence, and you have not seen the extent of my power. Would you deprive our son of that?"
Her eyes shifted down, avoiding his piercing glare. "No, my lord."
"Do not lose sight of our goal. Things may be working in our favor, but many factors still hang in the balance. We cannot afford weakness of any kind. Do you understand?"
"Your words have been well received, my lord."
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must contend with Zabra. He's been very vocal since our guard began pushing the Hutts out of our territory. I suspect this could cause problems for Eulian Tratzel."
Now her face sparked with curiosity. "So how do you imagine Mr. Tratzel will handle this matter?"
He pondered the question for a long moment. "We'll still need Zabra a while longer... perhaps it's time for a demonstration of our power. The Tekdaemon organization are no fools - Zabra knows this. They will not fight a losing battle, nor a long drawn-out campaign if there are other options. So, we make it look good. The Tekdaemons concede, urging the Hutts to do so as well. If, through all this, Mr. Tratzel should have acquired some... personal vendetta against the Hutt cartel - well, the Tekdaemons can hardly be blamed, can they?" He grinned.
"Brilliant, my love," she said, now regarding him with renewed esteem. "So do you think that will end our little 'Hutt' problem?"
"I'd bet our future empire on it," he said smugly.
"How could I have ever doubted you?" she said, now turning to face him, one hand slowly caressing his chest.
"Few make that mistake and live, my dear. However, I'll make an exception in your case," he said, pulling her roughly toward him, preparing to celebrate all their past and future deeds.
"Why can't I go with you, Master?" Jhanopellis Udo asked Jedi Master Vhinh Skywalker, not whining or complaining, but a simple inquiry. Vhinh regarded the young padawan, now fourteen, with the same respect he would give a full-fledged Jedi knight - or anyone else, for that matter; but Jhanopellis's character demanded that type of respect. Already displaying wisdom and maturity beyond his years, there was no doubt Jhan would shape up to be a powerful Jedi in time. If the Jedi master had to name a shortcoming in the padawan, it would be that at times he may have become too consumed in his training. Many times, at the conclusion of one of their sparring sessions, Jhan, upon being told, would stop as if coming out of a trance. When Vhinh would return, sometimes hours later, he'd find Jhan still practicing solo, the look of determination on his face indicating he was exercising his mind every bit as much as his perspiring body.
Jhan was always an overachiever; always looking for more to do. It was also apparent that Jhanopellis yearned to be deployed - much like Vhinh at his age, but not born of the mild streak of arrogance as in Vhinh's case, only a well-earned confidence in his ability and genuine desire to contribute - to serve the Order. The similarities, however, ended there. While Vhinh, gifted with strong force sensitivity by birth, had indeed trained hard, he'd accomplished some tasks with minimal effort that would stop many students in their tracks. As he got older, becoming more consistent and meticulous with his training, he'd reached new heights, already having surpassed many of his masters. Jhanopellis, on the other hand, with only average natural ability for a padawan, had excelled among his peers only through sheer will and dedication.
"I won't put you at risk, Jhan. Not at this stage of your training."
"I know you only mean to protect me, Master, but you place yourself at risk all the time, and sometimes I fear for you. I could help you."
Vhinh gave a warm smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you could, padawan, and you will, when the time comes. Follow the path that's been laid out for you, don't rush things - and you don't need to fear for me, Jhan. No matter what happens, I'll always be with you."
Jhan gave a slow nod, but the disappointment was evident, though he'd never say it. Perhaps a little break from the temple would do him good.
"Hey," Vhinh turned to him as he was leaving, "today's your day off. Why don't you see if Edala wants to go into town with you or something."
The boy did stage a small protest at that. "I planned on doing some research in the archives, Master."
"Being a kid once in a while isn't going to kill you, Jhan. Go on. That's an order."
Jhan bowed his head in compliance, giving Vhinh a wave goodbye as he saw him off.
Maybe his master was right. He knew he'd been pushing himself a lot, and he was getting really edgy. It was just that, with everything going on in the galaxy, he felt it his duty to try to make a difference - and he knew he could, if only in a small way. He almost felt guilty sometimes, partaking in frivolous activities while beings were dying on other worlds. Jhan - and the Jedi, for that matter - couldn't be everywhere, he knew, and it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy a little time off now and then. His life just seemed to lack purpose, and he had so very much to give.
Deciding to take his Master's words to heart, he made way for Edala's quarters. Long time best friends, the two had been almost inseparable since early childhood. Edala, a Mirialan one year older, had made him feel welcome when he'd graduated from the cub level and joined her class at the age of five. Jedi training had gone through many changes throughout the years, and had finally come to a more simplified version of the old ways. A youngling became a padawan once inducted into the order, with no initial trial to pass, but it was up to the discretion of the master to determine at what point they were ready to be deployed, entering combat situations. A padawan's master was their personal mentor throughout their years with the order, at every level of their training and even beyond, but there would be a series of group classes where they would learn the fundamentals of the Jedi teachings, as well as general academic studies, much like in a normal school. The cub level was the first grade level, which had padawans ranging anywhere in age from two to ten, but most graduated this level before the latter. The next level would be Apprentice, and finally Sage. Though it was up to the master when the padawan was eligible to complete the trials, completion of all three levels was a pre-requisite.
Jhan and Edala were both now at the Sage level, Edala in the early stages and Jhan in the more advanced. When he wasn't hard at work, which was rarely anymore, he could be found romping about with Edala. They'd confided in each other things they wouldn't even tell their masters.
Upon reaching her quarters, he patiently waited, though by now he was very anxious at the chance to see her again.
When she answered, she squinted her eyes, taking on a very confused expression. "I'm sorry... do I... do I know you?"
"Aw, seal it, Dal!" he retorted, giving her a playful shove, one she gladly returned.
"So how's the future Grand Master, hmm?"
"I don't know. Feeling kinda useless, I guess."
"Master Skywalker on another mission?"
"Yeah. I could help him, y'know?"
"He knows that too, Jhan, he's just looking out for you. It's what masters do."
"I know."
"Y'know, once we pass our trials, things will be different. You should enjoy this while it lasts."
"I could probably pass the trials today, if they'd let me!" he said with a sly grin, allowing himself to boast a little in front of his friend, a bit out of character for him.
"Woah, look who's getting a big head now!" It was actually a refreshing change from his usual air of humility. "How bout testing that out on some Techmonsters?"
A wide grin spread over his face now, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "Oh, you are so on!"
They took off in a sprint, giving each other playful little force pushes on the way, joking and laughing. Yeah, it would be nice to take a day off.
When they finally reached their destination, Iy'tarmi Plaza, they headed straight for the arcade. Surprised to see the game they came to play open, they immediately jumped on it.
The game in question, Hunters, was currently the hottest game out, played by billions galaxy-wide, due in part to technology made possible by none other than GalaCom. In this game, only 'loosely' based on real-world situations, the player assumed the role of a 'hunter', taking on hordes of 'Techmonsters', hideous creatures with an array of advanced weapons and armor, 'Gunslugs', basically giant four-armed slugs on hovercrafts with cannons strapped to their backs, and a variety of other less-feasible enemies, across a fictional galaxy.
Wearing a special headset, the player was able to control their 'hunter' through the power of thought alone, making them perform virtually any action they could think of, within reason and the limitations of their in-game character's abilities, which could be upgraded as well. Once accustomed to the headset, the game was so immersive the player would almost feel as if they were the character, as the highly intuitive game engine would pick up even unconscious or conditioned thoughts - so walking, for example, required as little mental effort as it would in real life, assuming the player was a biped. The game had three difficulty settings: Normal, Hard, and Jedi, which even force-sensitive individuals would have trouble with, though few full-fledged Jedi ever engaged in such activities.
As the two padawans donned the headsets, a large holo-projection lit up in the middle of the room for all to see, and other patrons began gathering around to watch.
The skills of the duo certainly garnered attention - though the reviews were mixed. Focused intently on the game, they still heard the many comments from the mass.
"Woah, that was so tech! You could be a real bounty hunter!"
"Tuklaktobuk would kill them both in two seconds!'
"Kevilus Rakter would kill Tuklaktobuk!"
"What kinda spice are you on? Tuklaktobuk would tear their arms off before they could reach their blasters!"
"Please! Kevilus has killed plenty of wookies!"
"Yeah, well, Tuklaktobuk isn't just some wookie! He's like a wookie on growth stim!'
"Doesn't matter how big he is! Kevilus could outfight anyone - even a Jedi! He trained in the old school Mando arts!"
"There aren't any real Mandos anymore!"
"Maybe not full-blooded - but they kept the religion alive! Just like the Sith back in the day!"
"The what?!"
As Jhan and Edala listened to the ongoing rants of the young onlookers, they were rather amused, yet saddened, at the apparent ignorance of many of the youths. Was the Jedi academy the only place a child received a well-rounded education anymore? As they got older, each time they came in contact with the world outside the temple, their peers, and many adults, for that matter, seemed to get stupider. Obviously, with all of the budget cuts the Republic had made in recent years, the schools had suffered most of the brunt; and it already showed.
About to beat their previous high score, the pair was interrupted by a sudden commotion from the entrance of the arcade.
"Everybody against the back wall, now!" came the voice of another youth, waving a blaster. "Start throwing down your credit chips! Come on, hurry up!" The youth, who had to be younger than Edala or Jhan, was accompanied by a group of others, looking even younger than himself, also armed. Chaos quickly erupted. The occupants of the crowded arcade, now screaming and panicking, managed to file in line against the back wall amongst the confusion. Except for Jhan. Jhan, who casually stood in the same spot, his onscreen character now standing idle, arms crossed and facing the room, as if taunting the blaster-toting youths, daring them to react.
"Come on, Jhan! What are you doing?" cried Edala, giving a tug on his tunic, as the other youths began surrendering their credit chips.
"This isn't going to happen," was his only response.
"Jhan, don't do this! Just let it go, before somebody gets hurt! They're only credits!" she protested, fearful, yet exasperated.
"They aren't their credits, Dal."
One of the delinquents, noticing the show of insubordination, made his was over to the two.
"Are you with me?" Jhan gave his friend a sideways glance.
Edala sighed deeply. "Yeah, I got your six, but you can bet I'll be kicking it later!"
"Fair enough." The two turned to meet the youth's gaze.
Seeing the lightsabers hanging from their belts, he stoped short, a couple meters away, and motioned for the older youth. "Hey vorn, check it!"
The older youth, swaggering toward them to stand next to his friend, regarded the two.
"What? A couple Jedi? Shee... ," he shrugged nonchalantly, then directed his blaster toward the padawans. "Get in line. I don't care who you are - we're Teks, you don't be messin' with that!"
Tekdaemons?! So young, though - and on Fi'ar'la? In general, worlds occupied by the Jedi temples tended to have significantly lower crime rates, the Jedi's presence being an effective deterrent. This, however, was a double-edged sword. With less crime, property values escalated, making residence on these worlds only affordable to the wealthier citizens. This created a wedge between the Jedi and many of the lower-class citizens, viewing the Jedi as if part of an elitist society - which couldn't be further from the truth. It now appeared even the peaceful world of Fi'ar'la had felt the effect of the ongoing surge in crime, and the Tekdaemons were recruiting younger and younger.
"You need to return the credits and leave while you still can," Jhan said in an even tone, hand now resting on the hilt of his lightsaber. Not a force suggestion, but a simple request that he expected to be honored.
"Man, frag this!" the youth said, now pointing his blaster directly at Jhan and pulling the trigger. But before the bolt reached its would-be target, Jhan had his lightsaber engaged and the bolt deflected with a simple turn of his weapon, all within a fraction of a second. It did indeed make contact now, with the boy's foot, exactly where Jhan had intended.
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" the youth bellowed, grabbing his foot. The wound, if Jhan had calculated right, would leave the boy with a chunk missing from his big toe - no permanent damage, but enough to stop him in his tracks. "Light these fools!"
Unfortunately, his followers were still perfectly able-bodied. Now volleys of blaster-fire rained around the padawans, forcing them into a defensive position. The situation put the two at a loss, as even though the youths were the aggressors, there was an unwritten, unspoken rule the Jedi lived by: Even in self-defense - Jedi don't kill children. Though technically children themselves, the two padawan were still bound by this doctrine.
Jhan, moving with an unseen swiftness, had no trouble rising to the occasion, sending blaster bolts by the dozen harmlessly into walls or gaming equipment. His lightsaber moving in a blur, each maneuver he performed seamlessly fused into the next, like a beautiful stylized dance, almost too fast for the naked eye to distinguish. Quickly taking down another of the assailants with a clip to the knee, he covered a wide area, coming to Edala's aid when the heavy fire was too much for the less advanced padawan to handle. His next retaliation would produce a third-degree burn on one of the shooter's hands, causing him to drop his blaster.
But Jhan couldn't be everywhere - the harsh reality made clear at the sound of Edala crying out. Taking a split-second to visually check on her, he saw a scorched circle of fabric on her left shoulder, revealing a minor burn on the skin below. Painful, no doubt, but she'd be okay, and he breathed a sigh of relief. In that brief moment, however, he'd taken his focus off the incoming fire just enough to misjudge one of his counters - and the deflected bolt hurtled toward one of the frightened detainees, striking the Fi'ar'ii youth right in the chest.
"No!" Jhan yelled in dismay. The shooters abruptly halted their assault, and now all eyes were on him and the fallen Fi'ar'ii.
"Come on, let's blaze!" called the lead boy, and the youths hastily ran, or hobbled, out of the arcade.
Jhan, rushing to the side of the wounded youth, instructed the others to move away. "Dal, call the meds! Hurry!"
Soon, medics, along with a few reporters, emerged on the scene. Jhan had stayed by the Fi'ar'ii's side until the medics arrived, profusely apologizing for causing the injury, and in fact, the entire incident. Why didn't I just listen to Edala? She said they're only credits, and now someone is hurt, all because of me!
The reporters, taking eye witness accounts from the youths at the scene, quickly compiled an assessment of the events that had transpired - which would not look favorably upon the two padawans, or the Jedi, for that matter. Jhan's only concern right now, however, was the injured boy, and he remained silent throughout their entire trip back to the temple.
Notes: Thank you for your continued support! Hope you like the first chapter, more soon to come. I am also working on a new cover for the second act which should be up within the week. Please review!
Star Wars names and concepts are owned by Lucasfilm and used for creative purposes only.
Original names and concepts created by Tony Mancosu. Cover art by Tony Mancosu.