Hawk Haven, Salishar, nine years before Phantom Menace:
The sun blazed in a sky of perfect azure tinted with violet, a sky so clear it was almost crystalline. It fell upon the tall spires and domes of sparkling metal rainbowed with a thousand different colors, that comprised the large complex housing the finest company of warriors in seven star systems. They were known as the Starhawks, led by the fearless Commander Ilaren, a woman whose reputation was as deadly and sharp as her vibroblade. The Republic kept the peace in the galaxy, aided by the Starhawks, whose elite battle skills deterred all but the most determined, or suicidal, lawbreakers. The company was held in high esteem, almost the equivalent of the Jedi Knights, for the Starhawks seemed to have uncanny fighting skills, skills that rivaled those trained in the Force.
However, the skills of a Starhawk were not mystical in nature, but rather the result of long, grueling practice sessions every day, sessions that tested the stamina, speed, and reflexes of the warrior to the breaking point. An old saying among the veterans was "Whatever doesn't break you only makes you stronger." Proof of that saying was in the practice field now, a solitary figure gliding effortlessly through the pattern of a fourth-level sword-dance, dressed in the gold and blue tunic of a Starhawk officer.
Her emerald vibroblade hummed as she brought it about in a backhanded slash, making the move seem as natural as breathing. She continued, bringing the blade up and around in a series of maneuvers that had long since become routine. Long honey-gold hair was braided and coiled atop her head, well out of the way of her sword, which could cut through durasteel like butter. A vibroblade was similar to a Jedi lightsaber, save for the fact that it was curved slightly, like a scimitar, and required a longer time to recharge. It was also less costly to make than a lightsaber, but it was just as deadly. Every new recruit learned to handle a vibroblade like it was a feather, albeit a lethal one, by the time basic training was finished. By the time one made officer level the vibroblade became part of them, just like an arm or an eye, controlled by unconscious reflexes that seemed to the observer to be magically quick and accurate.
Eyes that matched the blue of the sky above narrowed in concentration as she reversed the blade, spun it, and caught it in midair. It was a clever trick and also a dangerous one, had she miscalculated by a millimeter the sword would have taken her hand off. But the hilt smacked firmly into her hand as it always had. Lowering the sword till it was parallel to the ground, the girl bowed and switched it off, returning it to the clip on her belt. Only then did she reach up to undo the braid and let the heavy length down to hang past her hips. A faint smile creased her face, which was unusually serious for her fifteen years. Her hair was her one vanity, a thing which her Commander mother often said would get her killed. But Kyranon didn't care. She loved the silky feel of her hair when the wind blew and any enemy that got close enough to snag her hair was close enough to be killed. It had been the first time she had ever won an argument with her mother, Starhawk Commander Ilaren. But not, she thought firmly, the last time.
The young warrior turned to stare out across the misty green hills, hills that cradled and surrounded Hawk Haven from the rest of Salishar, isolating it from the hustling trade cities of Southport and Newsea. She had never minded the isolation before, it was quiet and peaceful here, a good place to practice forms and learn the Way of the Sword undisturbed by outsiders asking distracting questions. She had spent all of her life among the misty hills, content to study the arts of war as only the child of a swordmaster could be. Yet today the sight of the misty green expanse left her feeling hollow, as if the mist had reached in and sucked out her breath, squeezing tighter and tighter until she was empty.
Irritated, Kyranon breathed out sharply. She was being foolish, allowing her mystic side to run unchecked, as her mother would have said, giving into unfounded dread. Except the tightness in her chest was brought on not by phantoms of her imagination but by the very real knowledge in her head. The knowledge that she, untrained, could wield the Force, a talent that no Starhawk had ever possessed, a talent that had long been the province of the Jedi Knights. It was a talent that had been inherited from her father's side of the family.
A father that she had never known of until recently, for custom on Salishar dictated that a daughter belonged to her mother, to be raised as she saw fit, with or without consent of the man she had chosen to be her mate. Kyranon had never questioned the custom until two years before, when strange flashes of the Sight began to awaken in her, disturbing her dreams with their clarity. She had seen herself in a stone building, sparring with a tall man holding a green lightsaber, wearing the clothes of a Jedi Master. Kyra was not sure how she knew this, having never seen a Jedi before, but she did. Even more disturbing was the fact that she now seemed to be capable of summoning a breeze to her, wherever she happened to be, with just a thought. She could also guess what people would do before they spoke or lifted a sword.
Raised in the harsh school of a soldier, Kyra found herself woefully unprepared for these mystic qualities. Dreams and visions had no place in the life of a Starhawk officer and at first she had tried to disregard them. But the dreams had been growing stronger as had the urge to go elsewhere, to the place she had seen so many times in her visions: Coruscant, where the Temple of the Jedi was. At last she had gone to her mother, who had told her that the dreams were a sign of the Force. Kyra had been stunned.
"But how? I'm a Starhawk, not a Jedi!"
Ilaren sighed, clearly displeased by her daughter's newfound talents. "This is not an easy thing for me to explain, but you seem to have inherited your father's gifts as well as my own."
"My father?" Kyra repeated, for the Commander had never mentioned him before, and Kyra had long ago stopped asking.
"He is a Jedi, one of their Masters, or so I've heard. His name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I haven't seen him since before you were born," Ilaren admitted, and her face seemed to soften for an instant, her green eyes gazing at a picture only she could see. Then she became stern again and Kyra wondered if she'd imagined it. "He is strong in the Force, and an outstanding swordsman, one of the reasons why I married him. I never thought you would inherit his powers, you're far past the age when the Force begins to show itself . . ." she frowned in disapproval. Kyra winced under her mother's sharp stare, feeling herself flush in shame.
"What should I do? About these powers?"
"Do? Nothing. Unused, they should fade, as a vibroblade does when not in use." Ilaren replied. "A Starhawk does not need the Force to fight."
"Yes, Commander," Kyra answered, saluting with one fist on her heart. Then she had left, resolving to abandon these unlooked for powers.
But as the days went on her determination waned, for through the Force she discovered things about her world that no one at Hawk Haven knew. In the woods and fields she found plants which the Force told her could help heal injured or sick warriors at twice the normal speed, even better than a medic-bot. She found she could understand the feelings and minds of the birds and animals. Then too, the Force showed her pictures of other worlds, other creatures, things for which she had no name but which fascinated her. Suddenly an insatiable desire to know and learn awoke in her.
It was a desire that had long since been channeled into swordplay and fighting techniques, things which a Starhawk soldier should know, and she especially as the Commander's heir, who would one day lead the company when her mother was gone. Her education in alien cultures and languages had been thorough, if one-sided. She could speak seven languages fluently, could map terrain from land or air, scout and track through woods, fields, and swamp, live and hunt off the land when necessary, in short everything a soldier must know in order to survive in enemy territory. But a Starhawk did not go into the woods and contemplate a flower for its beauty or watch a hawk soaring in the air for the sheer joy of flight.
Yet she could not help herself. She had been trained to be practical and focused all her life, trained to lead and command men. But the awakened Force within her cared not for her skills. Through it she became aware of all living things, not merely to discover weaknesses and strengths should she face them on a battlefield, but as they were connected in a web that stretched throughout the galaxy, each thing building upon something before. For the first time she realized that her life was not, did not, have to follow the narrow path mapped out for her by her mother. There were other things she could be besides Commander of the Starhawks.
Even a Jedi.
The idea made her shiver. It was not that a being a Jedi was wrong, for the Knights were respected throughout the galaxy, and the Starhawks regarded them as worthy allies and swordsmen, though not without a bit of scorn for their more mystical pursuits and their belief that there was more to reality than the here and now. When she had tentatively asked her mother's second, Major Alirath, if he believed that dreams were a sign of things to come, he had looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. "Dreams are just dreams, girl. No mystical sight guides my destiny, not by a long shot. Trusting in dreams will only get you killed. The only thing you should rely on is your Commander and your sword, that'll keep you safe. Most of the time."
To say she found Alirath's answer unhelpful was putting it mildly. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she could no longer follow her mother's advice and ignore her birthright. She must seek training in these new abilities, for she sensed that untrained she would be a danger to herself and those around her. And the only place to find those who could teach her were on Coruscant, more than a week away by a fast cruiser.
I know better than to ask Mother's permission. She'd just look at me with her eagle eyes and tell Alirath to work me harder at practice since I haven't learned that a Starhawk needs no mystical Force to guide her. But she's wrong this time, I know she is. This isn't something that will go away. I have to learn to use it properly or it will end up using me. Maybe my father can help me. It's better than doing nothing.
Kyra knew also that those untrained in the Jedi arts were often sought out by those of the Dark Side, who loved to prey upon those too weak to defend themselves, and made into slaves or worse. I'd throw myself off a cliff before I let one of them use me like that, she thought fiercely. But what if I didn't know, until it was too late? A frission of fear crawled up her spine. A Sith Lord could make me betray the Starhawks, my family, everything I believe in. I can't risk it. Even if it means I have to leave without permission.
She winced. Leaving Hawk Haven without permission from the Commander was a serious offense, equivalent to betraying your commanding officer and dishonoring your sword and House Name. A person who was caught was immediately stripped of rank and sword, and made to serve his former friends as a drudge, after a lengthy questioning session with Commander and her chief officers. And while Kyra knew the Starhawks didn't practice torture, she suspected that an hour or more spent in the company of her mother in a temper would make the offender long for a quick execution. And once so disgraced it would require the luck of the gods to get back into the Commander's good graces, and be permitted to wear Starhawk blue again.
It wrenched at her heart to even consider such a thing, much less do it. All her life she had longed to be one thing, a Starhawk Commander like her mother. She had worked hard to earn the respect of her swordmaster and teachers, to prove that she was worthy of the name Aranell. Still, she knew beyond all doubt that her Force talents could not be denied. Nor, she realized, did she want to set them aside. The gods have given me them as a sign of their favor. It would be wrong to refuse their gift. But Mother will never understand that. She already thinks my daydreaming and curiosity is a sign of weakness, a sign of the tainted blood of my father. But there's nothing wrong with dreams, so long as you have the courage to act upon them.
Once again the vision flashed through her mind, herself, holding a glowing lightsaber, battling a dark figure encased in mist. Determination warred with need, tempered by fear. If she did not defeat the Dark One it was the beginning of the end . . .
Abruptly she regained control, shivering in spite of the warm sun. Her indecision vanished. The warning of the vision was unmistakable. She must be trained in the Force, trained enough to defeat the dark figure of nightmare, else all she held dear would be swallowed by the Dark One and those who followed him. She would go to Coruscant, to her father Qui-Gon Jinn, and request they teach her the Jedi arts. The Jedi would help her decipher the visions, bring balance to her spirit.
Swiftly she headed for her rooms, mentally making a list of what she would need, and the best time to slip out of Hawk Haven unseen. Gods in a circle, make my mother understand that my destiny lies elsewhere, she prayed softly, knowing all the while that she may as well have asked the dead to dance as have her mother forgive her for choosing a path other than that of a Starhawk.
Note: This is my first Stars Wars fic, an experiment if you will, so please be kind when reviewing! Thank you!
