[Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or any characters from it, nor do I pretend to.]
Chapter I: Magnus
The once green hills of Cir'ruilin had been blasted into a wasteland of black craters and smoking corpses, both men and droids. Merryl frowned at it. The destruction seemed so unnecessary. The war had to be fought, but did the Separatists really have to bomb everything?
"Merryl? Merryl!" Came the voice of her master, Saesee Tiin. The Iktotchi's orange features were almost purple with exhaustion. His face and horns smothered with soot. The same face which had terrified her more than any droid would when he chose her as his Padawan.
"Yes, Master." She replied, turning away from the desolate landscape.
"Ready your men. There are more transports inbound." His voice was gruff. Tired. It worried her.
"More droids?" Merryl looked at him in disbelief. "How are they getting through the blockade?"
"Stay focused, young one. Fight now, ask why later." She nodded, and Saesee turned to Commander Haethe. "Where is our artillery, commander?"
"Destroyed, General." Even the battle hardened clone sounded tense.
"Do we have anything?"
"Only the crawler." Haethe jerked his thumb back where the top of an AT-RT could just be seen lumbering towards them.
"It'll do. Tell your men to fall back. We're too exposed here."
"Yes sir." The clone saluted, and Saesee turned back to his Padawan.
"You too, Mer." He only called her that when there was a chance they might die. She began running down the frontline, the most tattered part of the battlefield, to the makeshift trench her squad had dug.
"We're falling back to the crawler." She called. "More droids are coming."
"Force preserve us." One of the men sighed. "Will the Seps ever run out?"
"When they do," Merryl tried to sound positive. "We'll all have a holiday."
There were several murmurs of agreement, and the clones crawled from the trench and began jogging towards the walking tank. To Merryl's left, her master and the rest of the clones were doing the same. Somewhere above them, the roar of engines grew louder. Merryl listened more closely. Something didn't sound right. She turned her head, and caught sight of several grey CIS ships. But not transports. Gunships.
"Master!" She shouted. They were nearing the AT-RT now, and Saesee didn't hear her. Before she could call again, three pulsing red laser beams hit the ground, burning black lines into the dead earth.
"What the-" One of Haethe's men stammered, seconds before a laser blazed through him, cutting him in half at the waist. The AT-RT was right in front of them now.
"No! Stop!" Merryl screamed as loudly as she could, too late. As helmets turned to see why she was shouting, the distinctive humming of Confederate missiles was heard. Merryl saw the pale blue trails of the missiles, twisting together like coloured ribbons. When they hit the walker, the shockwave lifted Merryl and all the clones off their feet as if in slow motion, throwing them backwards. The noise seemed to come only afterwards, but the pain took even longer. Air rushed from her lungs as she hit the ground. Choking and gasping, she-
"Merryl." A voice said. "Merryl? Are you sleeping?" Someone shook her shoulder, and Merryl looked up in surprise at her friend and fellow Padawan, Catiene Cora. She was standing over Merryl, who was sitting cross-legged in the meditation chamber atop Tranquillity Spire. The skyline of Coruscant could be seen out the window in the twilight.
"Catiene?" Merryl said groggily.
"You're supposed to reflect in here, Mer." Catiene smiled mischievously. "We have beds for sleeping."
"Sorry." Merryl grinned happily. "Reflection and exhaustion don't mix well. I didn't know you were back on Coruscant. Didn't Master Kolar take you to Cato Neimoidia to scrap some metal?" Catiene's Jedi teacher was an intimidating looking Zabrak.
"We got back a few days ago." Catiene gave Merryl a hand and pulled her to her feet, before embracing her tightly. When she let go, she continued: "Master Plo Koon stayed to clean up any bolt-heads left. But what about you? When'd you get back from Cir'ruilin?"
"About an hour ago, depending on how long I slept. Master Tiin's having the med droids look at him."
"What happened?"
"Long story." Merryl waved a hand dismissively. "We were blown up."
"Shouldn't you see the meds too?"
"I wasn't hurt too badly. Besides, Master insisted I meditate on the mission."
"So you slept?" Catiene smirked again and pulled on her arm. "Never mind that now, Mer. You haven't even eaten yet. Let's go get something from the dining hall. I have so many stories to tell."
"Don't you usually eat with Master Kolar?"
"Yeah, but Agen won't mind."
"Agen?" Merryl raised her eyebrows.
"What?" Catiene looked defensive. "He doesn't mind that either, so long as I call him Master in front of the others."
"Oh really? Are you leaving anything out?"
"What? No! Don't be daft, Mer." Catiene laughed. "He's old enough to be my father. But you have to admit," she added conspiratorially. "His head spikes are pretty sexy." Seeing the look on Merryl's face, she burst out laughing. "I'm joking, Mer. You're too serious."
Merryl put a hurt expression on, and readjusted the single braid tucked behind her ear. Her hair was a proper mess, a wild mass of mahogany tangles, but it couldn't be helped. Catiene's raven black hair wasn't much better, but she preferred it that way.
Even with so many Jedi fighting on distant worlds, the Temple still bustled with activity. Some younglings were being instructed by robed masters, while others endured guard duty as punishment for one or another offense. Merryl and Catiene had been initiates as well until a few years ago. When Kolar had approached Catiene, Merryl had been overjoyed for her friend, but jealous at the same time. Saesee Tiin had chosen her within that same month, though, and a weight had been lifted from her chest. Most younglings knew that by the age of fifteen, the chance of being selected and becoming a Padawan was slim, and Merryl and Catiene had been a mere year short of that.
"Merryl!" Called a happy sounding Darenn Givvot, who'd been their peer as a youngling. Darenn was one of the unlucky ones. He was the same age as them, seventeen, but still no Jedi had expressed an interest in apprenticing him. Most people knew that Darenn would probably never become a full Jedi, but no one had the heart to say it out loud.
"Darenn." Merryl smiled and returned his hug. "How have you been?"
"Fantastic." He bubbled. "Training is brilliant; Master Drallig has been giving me advanced lessons. I know he announced long ago he wouldn't be taking any more Padawans but I reckon if I impress him enough, he might change his mind. After all, Masters Tiin and Kolar said the same thing before they chose you two."
Merryl didn't exactly how to answer that. Darenn's endless optimism often put her off balance like this. After a second, Catiene stepped in.
"Of course he'll choose you, Ren." She said smoothly, giving Merryl a look. "When he sees cut a droid to ribbons, you'll be in for sure."
"I hope so." Darenn looked slightly less sure of himself. "But there are no more practice droids. We broke the last ones, and none have been captured intact in a while."
"It makes sense," Merryl added without thinking. "The Separatists are getting desperate. All the droids we fought on Cir'Ruilin were more aggressive than usual. It makes them hard to capture." Only when she'd said it did she realise how stupid she'd been. Telling Darenn about all the action she'd had in the field? While he had to stay here with the younglings? What was she thinking? Once again, Catiene leapt in.
"We're going to get some dinner, Ren, want to join us?"
"Thanks, but I have to sort through some of the holocrons in the Library. Master Drallig said there's one on Form II fighting which I should see."
"That's great. Good luck." Merryl said awkwardly as Darenn scurried off. When he'd gone, she buried her face in her hands. "Oh krayt." She cursed. "I'm an idiot."
"Yeah." Catiene agreed with her. "But don't stress about it. Only makes it worse."
"Why isn't it awkward for you too?" Merryl asked. "I mean, we're both Padawans while he's still a youngling."
"Because I'm not the one who let him kiss me before our Murkhana mission and then told him we could only be friends, Mer."
"But that was last year."
"Hey, he's obviously over it. You're the one who's still fidgeting."
"It's not allowed, Catiene! Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments."
"If you say so. Let's eat, shall we?"
"Yeah."
Catiene grinned when she saw her friend wolfing down the food. She herself had been back from Cato Neimoidia for long enough to take the Temple food for granted once more, but Merryl was eating her first proper meal since leaving Coruscant.
"So they had gunships." Catiene said. "What happened next?" She had to wait for Merryl to swallow before she got an answer.
"They blew the walker sky high. That's when Master Tiin was hurt." Catiene found it amusing how Merryl always referred to her teacher so formally.
"But not you."
"Just scratches. The med droid on the ship back took care of it."
"So how'd you still win the battle in the end?"
"We didn't, funnily enough. The droids all shut down."
"Shut down?" Catiene raised an eyebrow. "By who?"
"No idea. We disabled them so they wouldn't get back up again later and left. The Sep ships outside our blockade were a ghost fleet. No activity whatsoever."
"What did you do?"
"We weren't needed anymore, so we left. The clones stayed to disable the ships too and figure out what happened. Probably a malfunction."
"Don't you wish those happened more often?" Catiene laughed.
They finished eating and left the hall, still talking animatedly. Catiene was relating the story of how the Seps on Cato Neimoidia had fractured one of the planets great stone arches, and sent the entire battlefield to who-knows-where along with a lot of clones and even more droids."
"Like I said." Merryl said. "They're getting desperate. Even Master doesn't think the war can last much longer."
"It's no surprise, I suppose." Catiene said. "Dooku is dead, Grievous is dead."
"General Grievous is dead?"
"Yeah, Master Kenobi killed him on Utapau."
"Well then all they have left is the Separatist Council."
"Or," Catiene whispered dramatically. "The Sith Lord behind all of this pulling the strings."
"That's just a rumour." Merryl said. "Dooku's 'Sith master' probably doesn't exist."
"That's exactly what a Sith would say! Is it you?" Catiene laughed, punching Merryl softly on the arm.
"That's not funny."
"C'mon Sith, I can take you."
Catiene's joking was cut short however by the approach of Saesee Tiin. Both Padawans bowed their heads in respect.
"Master?" Merryl asked. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Bed, young one?" Tiin said, smiling. "I'm tougher than that. And I must meet with the Council."
"But we already gave our report."
"New and urgent business calls. Master Windu needs my assistance with something. I may be late back to my apartments."
"Should I prepare the Endoran tea?"
"Please." He looked to Catiene and nodded. "A pleasure, Padawan Cora."
"Likewise, Master Tiin." Catiene said, and the horned Jedi left them. She turned back to Merryl. "Looks like we have a free evening."
"Where's Master Kolar?"
"He went to see Windu too. What do you want to do now?"
"You have that look in your eye again." Merryl told her.
"What look?" She replied innocently, but didn't wait for reply. "Should we sneak out the Temple?"
"I knew it. I'm hardly back half a day and you're already trying to get us in trouble."
"Oh come on. It'll be fun. You could do with some fresh air."
"The fresh air is here. Out there it's just smoke."
"Figure of speech, but that's not the point."
"No."
Catiene sighed theatrically. "Fine, then how about we go watch the younglings train? Always fun to see a good duel. We good even join in."
"Fighting isn't supposed to be fun, Catiene. Master gets angry when he thinks I'm enjoying it."
"Well he's no fun either. What should we do, Mer?'
"How are your brothers doing?" Merryl asked, and Catiene's face immediately lit up.
"They're great. Paetyr's almost ten, growing faster than a womprat and pretty handy with a lightsabre already. Yannis' all solemn and serious, even at six. It's adorable. And they're even in the same clan, so they train together."
"Shall we go see them?"
"No, they'll still be busy training, and I'll never hear the end of it if I embarrass them in front of their teacher or friends."
"Later then." Merryl stretched her back and thought for a second. "Let's actually go down to the arena for a bit. I've been cooped up in a ship all the way from Cir'Ruilin, I could do with a bout or two."
"Perfect." Catiene beamed. "I've got some new tricks. Think you can beat me this time?"
First Mate Azmo Tann had been a pirate for years. Almost as long as he could remember. He'd served under Captain Fennlee the Face for most of that time. But in all Azmo's time raiding the trade routes, he'd never seen this. In the hanger of the Jagged Dawn, a Separatist transport had landed, and battledroids were exiting. Battledroids whose rank colours could not be seen under messily applied black paint, smeared on the droids in strange symbols, almost like tattoos. Azmo unconsciously looked at Fennlee the Face, whose hideous features were buried under tattoos as well, hence his name.
"What the krayt is this?" Fennlee demanded. The Federation had approached him before and offered to sponsor his raiding of Republic space, but these droids didn't look like Confederates. At least not any more.
"Remain calm." One of the droids said. This one had what looked like a skull painted on its chest.
"Are you in charge here?" Fennlee asked. The droid ignored him, instead looking towards the transport where a droid taller than the others was stepping off the ramp. The magna guard's eyes glowed an unsavoury purple. In one hand, it carried a shock staff, and over its shoulders rested a white cloak. In fact, it looked no different to any other of Grievous' personal body guards when Azmo had seen them during their deal with the Separatists.
"What is the meaning of this?" Fennlee asked again, this time to the magna guard.
"This is your ship, human?" The droid sounded different to the battledroids. Its voice more guttural.
"Yes, this is the Jagged Dawn."
"You have a name, human?"
"Captain Fennlee the Face. Who the krayt are you?"
"You may call me Magnus."
"Since when do droids have names?"
"That is irrelevant. Take me to your bridge. I have a proposition for you."
Fennlee the Face's face lit up, and he nodded for the unusual droid to follow. Azmo kept pace, followed by several of his own men and three tattooed droids. The bridge was not luxuriously large, but the central walkway and technician bunkers made Fennlee feel like a Republic Admiral in his own capital ship, even if the Jagged Dawn was only a frigate.
"What is your proposition…Magnus?"
"This is an effective ship."
"Yes. It-"
"Fine engineering, if poorly maintained."
"Poorly maintained? What in kray-"
"I want your ship, Captain."
"What?"
"I want your ship."
"What in krayt's name do you want my ship for? The Federation has plenty of ships."
"The Federation will not give me a ship."
"But you're a droid."
"The Federation is finished. It will crumble shortly. I want your ship."
"But you can't have my ship. It's mine."
"You may continue to work on it. Your time will not go unpaid."
"Why would I give away my ship in exchange for a job on my ship?"
"Because if you do not, I will kill you."
Right on cue, the battledroids raised their blasters. Two of Azmo's men were knocked unconscious before they had time to turn around. Azmo himself heard a click fearfully close to the back of his own head, and froze. Fennlee reached for his own blaster, but found himself staring at the business end of Magnus' buzzing staff an instant later, and dropped his weapon.
"This is a krayt-forsaken hijacking!" He swore. "You're a bloody criminal. I have a ship full of men right behind me."
"Do you accept the deal?"
"I don't negotiate with terrorists you rusted bucket of-"
Magnus drew a blaster pistol with his free hand and blasted Fennlee the Face point blank. One of the men made a wild grab for his own blaster, but the Magnus turned and shot him too. The droid looked questioningly from Azmo to the other remaining man, as if waiting to see if they would ask for death too. When they did not, he turned to Azmo and spoke.
"My name is Magnus. This is the Apocalypse-class frigate, Triumphant stolen from orbit over Naboo twenty-two years and sixty-six days ago. The dead
captain is Fennlee Borra, born on Coruscant and wanted by Republic authorities on charges of piracy, murder and slavery. You are Azmo Tann, First Mate to the deceased captain, born on Naboo, wanted by Republic authorities for suspected association with Fennlee Borra and possible counts of piracy, murder and slavery."
Azmo glanced down to where Fennlee the Face lay, a gaping hole in his face.
"A-all correct." He said in a near whisper.
"Do you accept the deal?"
[Thanks for reading. This is my first Star Wars story, so as always, don't be shy with your reviews.] -Rubaiyat