Okay, I would like to make two points here. One: I do not own Star Wars. That would be George Lucas's. Two: This was all originally my friend Brylan Truson's idea. I was orignially just his beta reader, but then we decided to co-author.I have taken a lot of liberty with his fic, and I hope he forgives me. This is my first try at writing fan fic and it probably sucks.We really have little plan for this fic, it's mainly just one big writing experiment. :-P Anyways, please R&R because I will need lots of help on learning to write better.
Title: Pix Harp, the Lone Jedi Knight
Authors: Brylan Truson & Tara Saralonde
Genre: Star Wars
Time Era : Clone Wars, Order 66, Jedi Purge
Chapter 1: Beginnings
"The battle has been raging for over four months now. Our forces are losing ground at an incredibly fast rate. The Seperatists have taken almost all of the command posts near us. Right now I'm at one of the last. They're drawing closer, and we're surrounded on all sides. There's little chance of reinforcements arriving in time, as most forces are off hunting Count Dooku and General Grievious or defending key planets.
My battle is not as important as the rest. Hussnkk is not a key world. Shoot, it's barely known to anyone. But this planet holds a secret. It has to. Why else would the CIS try so hard to get it? I must meditate on this later, but I fear that we're running out of time. Now I have to continue the defense of our last city, Vel Droma. It's the only position that those droids haven't taken. I-,"
Pix Harp sighed as her datapad screen started flickering erratically and shut off a moment later. She tucked it back into her robes, then turned to look behind her as she heard boots crunching on the rubble underfoot. Commander Jest of the Grand Army of the Republic, her second-in-command and comrade-in-arms, made his way purposefully towards her. His standard white clone armor was battle-scarred and coated with dirt and dried mud. It had been days since any of them had been able to rest or take time to clean equipment. The enemies' droids had no need for sleep or food, and you could hear the sound of artillery going twenty-four hours a day."Yes, Commander?" she inquired. She hoped that she wasn't about to hear another report of the death toll on their side. Some thought that clones were like droids: unthinking and unfeeling machines good for nothing but war. Pix knew for a fact that they might all look the same, but each one was an individual living being. She felt a pang of sorrow, as that fact also meant that with every death another person with dreams and hopes and feelings was forever gone from this world.
"General Harp, the Seperatists are being pushed back from the eastern sector of Vel Droma."
"Very good, Commander. I'll be right there," Pix said, relieved. This was good news. They had been trying to break through that sector for a week. Jest saluted smartly and turned back to resume fighting with his fellow brothers.
The Jedi Warrior walked around a hoversled piled with scrap metal and miscellaneous pieces of machinery. Her engineers were now in desperate need of parts to repair the vehicles and weapons that were being rendered useless on a daily basis. Any metal or usable parts were being salvaged now, and piles of usable material could be seen around the command post. In this deperate time of need, they could use all the resources that they could get their hands on, even if it was secondhand and worthless anywhere else. A flat piece of durasteel slid with a clatter off the sled and almost fell on Pix's foot. She picked the piece up and winced at the warped reflection staring back at her.
Pix Harp had never thought herself especially pretty. To do so would be un-Jedi like, as Jedi were not vain or overly concerned with things such as appearance. In normal times, though, some would disagree. Many considered her uncommonly pretty, even beautiful. Her shoulder-length hair was raven-black, contrasting greatly with her pale skin. Her sapphire eyes, which could change from warm and friendly to icy and cold in a moment, were possibly her best features. But this was definitely not a normal time. She had to admit to herself that she had seen better days. Her hair was dirty and uneven, part of it sliced off. She had a close call with a vibroblade the other day... There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, her Jedi robes were torn and singed from blaster fire. The hilt of her silver-bladed lightsaber was considerably more worn than it had been before the war.
She sighed and remembered when she had made her lightsaber. She had been a Padawan then, and had been delighted when she had succeeded on her first try. Recalling the moment when she had first ignited her lightsaber brought back more memories from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. She found herself missing the peace she had found by simply walking through its halls, the laughter of young apprentices and Padawans, the beauty of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the view from the top of the spires... But most af all, she missed art. She could make art out of anything: soft metal, wood, stone. With the more solid materials it was all a matter of using the Force to find exactly where to use the tool, exactly how much pressure to use. She used the Force in a much different way on some materials: she used it to crush and meld them together. Some thought that she was odd in this way. No Jedi made art. Perhaps she did have an advantage over most artists because of her Force-use, but she loved doing it.
She replaced the piece of durasteel onto the hoversled, and hurried to catch up with Jest. The time for reminiscences was over. This was war.
Pix pressed her way through clones, engineers, and medics, all with a different purpose and destination. She finally found Commander Jest amidst the chaos, talking with another clone.
"How are we holding up?" Pix asked, putting a hand on the clone's battered shoulder armor. He nodded to the other clone, who then promptly left, and turned to face her.
"We lost contact with the recon squad about thirty minutes ago," Jest said, reading a partly broken datapad. Pix could see that he was having trouble reading it and smiled at his next remark. "Damn datapads."
"I know, mine has been acting up too. I'm going to take a squad to the Eastern Barricade to see what happened." Jest had long since got used to Pix's way of commanding: being right there at the front lines. She would never ask her soldiers to do something she would not do herself.
Jest nodded. He looked up at the sky as rain started to fall, getting everyone and everything soaked. On Hussnkk it was always cold and rainy, but it never froze. The wildlife there was mostly amphibious, as most of Hussnkk was covered by lakes and swamps.
Pix also glanced up at the sky and raised her hood to protect her face from the freezing water. Unlike the clones, she did not have a helmet to protect her from anything from flying shrapnel to cold liquid. She headed towards a large building, her boots splashing through the sticky mud.
As the Jedi Knight entered the building, the stench of blood and death hit her, making her gag. Injured soldiers were all over the place on cots. Doctors and nurses were racing around, trying to save lives. Sometimes Pix wished she had been a Jedi healer instead of a warrior. Healers faced blood and death too, but they didn't inflict it.
During her early years as a Jedi, Pix use to always try to get out of the healing classes. She had much preferred going to Master Bulq's lightsaber combat classes and perfecting her Form III lightsaber techniques. She knew only a bit about healing, never bothering to learn more after she passed the basic course. Now she sorely regretted it, as it could have come in handy too many times in the thick of battle.
Returning to the present, she quickly walked on past the cots full of dying soldiers and headed towards the back. She stepped through a door, the stench filling her nostrils lessening with every step. A clone walked up to Pix and saluted.
"General Harp, Commander Jest commed and said that you would be coming."
Pix nodded and followed the clone to a side room where an entire squad of elite clones were waiting. Their armor looked new and their weapons were more advanced then regular clones. They all turned their heads to look at Pix when she entered the room. At first Pix had found their unerring unision to be uncanny, but now it reassured her because it was a sign of how quick their reactions were. She continued on to the center of the room where she stood, hands clasped and behind her, facing the men in front of her. She began to speak, amplifying her voice slightly with the Force.
"We are to discover what happened to the recon squad sent out from the Eastern Barricade and why we have lost communications with them. We are on a Level 3 alert after we pass the Barricade. Any questions?"
There was silence. They all understood what they were supposed to do and would follow their orders without question. Pix nodded as she walked to the edge of the room.
"Let's move out."
The young woman raced out of the room followed closely by her clone squad. They headed out of the building and headed for the eastern sector of Vel Droma.