I
Prelude
The Jedi Temple was a place of peace, quiet meditation, and teaching – the home of the group of men and women that the Republic knew as the Jedi. This corps of Force-sensitive beings worked for the good of the people of the galaxy. It was their job to ensure that peace was maintained throughout the expanse of the Republic. They recruited young people across the galaxy to join the forces that maintained the sometimes-fragile peace the galaxy at large enjoyed. Padmé Naberrié was one of those who had been separated from her peers on her homeworld to join the Jedi in their work.
That was eight years ago. She had left her family on Naboo at the age of six at the bidding of the Jedi. Her journey had taken her to the capital of the galaxy – Coruscant – where she was studying to become a Jedi. The members of the Jedi Council spoke quietly about her, saying that she had promise, noting, however that she had not yet been taken as Padawan by a Master.
Chieftains among the Jedi, the council members governed the doings of all the other Jedi. The Councilors directed the paths of their subordinates, but they could not force them to do anything. They were bound by their own code, which stated that they could not compel a person – Jedi or otherwise to do something against their will and that included forcing a Master to take a Padawan they did not wish to have.
It was essential that a Master and an Apprentice 'fit' with each other if the training of the Padawan was to be successful. There had to be bond between them that would hold them together, as they went through the process of learning and teaching. Much to the Council's dismay, it seemed that there was no Master who could find it in himself to teach the young Naberrié, who still remained with the group of Jedi initiates known as Younglings.
Most of the Younglings, who were between the ages of six and eight, spent a brief period learning the basics of the Jedi lifestyle while they waited for a Master to choose them as his Padawan. Padmé however, had waited for eight years and still had not been chosen. She was an outcast among her peers, who distanced themselves from her due to their difference in age – she was nearly twice as old as the rest of them – but also among the Padawans. They treated her like a second-class citizen, teasing her about not being chosen by a Master yet. They mockingly speculated that she was not good enough for any of the Masters to choose her, and she should be sent to join the Agri-Corps, working on farms on the Outer Rim worlds as a civil servant of low status.
The Masters on the Council pitied her and encouraged other Masters to consider her as a pupil. They refused to send her to the Agri-Corps and allowed her to stay on at the temple, hoping that someone would someday choose her, before it was too late, before they were forced to send her into the Agri-Corps. It was only a matter of time before the pressure of the majority of the Jedi would overwhelm their steadfastness in their beliefs that she was still worthy of being a Padawan. She was already far too old by the standards that the Jedi usually so stringently maintained as criteria for a Youngling to be chosen as a Padawan. Going against the wishes of the majority, the Council held firm in its faith in her potential, waiting for the right Master to come for the girl. Until then, they cold only wait for that day to come, and hope that the unstoppable ridicules of the other Padawans would not break her before the appropriate Master happened along.
Padmé Naberrié walked silently down the carpeted hall to the practice room where she intended to work on her saber technique. She looked into other rooms and saw Masters leading their Apprentices in different exercises,
and was painfully reminded that she was still had not been chosen by a Master. Every day brought home to her that she was different from the rest of the Jedi her age – they had been chosen, and she hadn't.
She did not know why she had not been chosen, but she was determined to prove her worthiness to the other Masters. Everyday she came to practice what little she knew with the blade in hopes of attracting a Master's attention, although saber technique was not all that she studied on a daily basis. She also meditated and completed her academic studies diligently. Her grades in her academic classes were stellar, beyond any reproach, but they alone would not gain for her what she so desperately desired – a Padawanship. It was necessary that she exhibit her potential as a Jedi, not only as a scholar, if she wished to be chosen by a Master.
Finding an empty room she took a practice saber off the wall, and activated a remote droid. She cleared her mind, focusing on what was before her, watching the droid circle around the room, hovering at eye level as its systems warmed up.
She relaxed her legs and settled into a ready stance, prepared to block the first shot from the droid. Holding the practice weapon she waited for the droid to make its move.
As she waited she thought about the weapon in her hands – if it could be considered one, which it really couldn't be because it had not been designed to inflict any bodily harm as a true lightsaber would do. This one simply delivered a shock if it came into contact with the body, leaving a red mark which soon disappeared. Padmé longed for the day when she would be chosen by a Master and be able to construct a true lightsaber.
The remote was humming at its full capacity as it fired off a pair of shots. Padmé blocked the first one, ducking the second. She continued to work, keeping her saber in front of her as the remote sent out more volleys of small laser bursts.
"I cannot believe you are still playing with that," a voice said from behind. "You are far too old to still be enamored with toys that the Younglings use."
She whirled around to see who it was and received a sting in the back as the remote's mini-laser found its target. It was Brennen Col, an older Padawan.
"Then again," he continued, "I don't suppose you can do any better than that."
"Brennen…" she said defensively, her voice trailing off.
Col was several years older than her and had been with his Master for five years. He was a tall, thin boy with shaggy hair, which was rather uncharacteristic of a Jedi Padawan. The male Padawans were made to keep their hair clipped rather short. Brennen was an exception.
"You and I both know that you will never become a Padawan learner. I don't see why the Masters let you linger here with the Younglings. You're more than twice their age. You should be sent to join the Agri-Corps straight away," he said derisively.
"Just because I haven't been chosen yet doesn't mean I won't be," she said realizing that the words sounded hollow in her own ears. Despite her dedication she had to admit that she was beginning to believe what the other Padawans were saying was true.
Brennen removed his lightsaber from his belt – a real saber. "If you think you really are Jedi material, then prove it."
By this time a group of Padawans had assembled in the room and were watching the discourse.
Circling her, Brennen ignited his saber, and began his attack. Padmé was overwhelmed by his ferocity and soon found herself struggling to fend off his blows. He backed her up across the room, forcing her to give ground under his merciless assault.
As the fight continued, Padmé felt fear welling up inside her. Brennen's saber was the genuine article, and if it scored a hit, it could deal some serious damage. She forced the fear away, recalling something Yoda had said:
The path to the Dark Side, fear is. Leads to anger it does, anger leads to hate, hate…leads to suffering.
"Are you afraid?" Brennen asked, increasing the ferocity of his blows. Padmé knew she was no match for him, but she was determined not to let him best her simply with words. She would not admit defeat simply because he was taunting her.
"No," she said between ragged breaths as the older Padawan struck down hard against her own blade.
"Well you should be," he said.
For a brief moment Padmé saw in his eyes a fire of darkness burning intensely, which she had never seen in any Padawan before. She immediately knew this was not something which was meant to be associated with the good side of the Force – that this was bad. Brennen had succumbed to the Dark Side, and she didn't know why.
"No!" she replied, practically yelling. "No!"
"Yes!" was Brennen's retort, which was quickly followed by a kick that she had not been expecting. It caught her squarely in the stomach, knocking her against the wall.
She slammed into the wall with a dull thud.
Brennen deactivated his blade, and approached her. She had collapsed on the floor, her breath gone from her lungs.
"Are you afraid now?" he asked, his voice menacing.
She whimpered, but did not reply, lifting herself onto her hands and knees, only to receive another kick, this time to the ribs. Padmé sank to the floor. She was certain that some ribs had been cracked by this last blow. Suddenly, all the Padawans in the room were upon her. She rolled into a ball of misery as the blows rained down upon her.
Soon the room faded beyond recognition, and all that she felt was pain, which came from every direction and angle. Padmé lost conscious as a sonorous voice rang out in the room, calling out for the Padawans to stop.