Disclaimer: No, don't own, only borrowing for a short period of time.

I stand in front of the younglings, knowing my fate was sealed from the moment I told Zett to go. Jedi aren't supposed to love. But in a way, I loved him. We grew up together as younglings, competed as Initiates, had a friendly rivalry as Padawans. And now I'm going to die. I relax then let the Force flow through me.

The Force is my refuge. I am at peace with myself. Oh, what's the point? You know, normal beings of my species can live to 500 years. As a Jedi, I stood a chance to live another 100 or so years if I didn't get killed on some stupid mission. I'm 15. And I'll die today. I hear the clone troopers thundering across the corridor and call on my race's natural ability. Suddenly a clone trooper is standing in front of the younglings. The troopers thunder around the corridor and point their blasters at the younglings.

"NO!"

They frown. The commander markings on my 'armour' are clear.

"These ones are to be taken elsewhere."

"Yes Sir."

I hurry the younglings along, heading to the secret passage that the crèche master told me to find. As I run, my body returns to its normal form. Young Shi'ido like me can't hold our forms for too long. I reach the hidden tunnel and open the door. I grab the eldest youngling by his tunic.

"Run. Run and don't stop running. Find…" I cast around for a name and remember one my Master always said was a friend of the Jedi, "Find Senator Organa."

The boy, no more than nine years old, nods his head violently.

"Yes Padawan Huur."

"GO!"

They hurry along the passage way and I close the door behind them. That's the problem. The door can't be closed from the inside. I run down the corridor, desperate to lead the clones away from the younglings. I round the corner and scream.

"MASTER!"

He lies there, surrounded by clone troopers, decapitated clones, clones run through with a sabre. But the blaster bolts took their toll. I feel the bond in my head fading and run to his side.

"Master…"

"Meer…? Run…"

"No Master. I won't leave you."

"Go… Survive…"

"Yes Master."

I feel him block the bond to prevent me having to experience him dying and then I snatch up his sabre and run, pulling mine out of my flexible muscle. Half-way down a corridor my Force sense screams and I change to a clone trooper, Force snatching a blaster from a corpse and placing the sabres inside me. And then Master Skywalker rounds the corner.

I prepare to return to my normal form but then I sense a…darkness around him. He glares at me.

"Are the Jedi dead yet?"

"No Sir. Not all of them."

And then I'm up against the wall, an invisible hand crushing my throat.

"I know you're a Jedi, Shi'ido scum!"

And I return to my usual appearance and draw the sabres before choosing a form that gives me strength. We've all heard the joke. What do you call a nigh-unstoppable two-metre tall Wookiee with a nigh-unstoppable laser weapon that can cut through anything? Overkill. And I'm a nigh-unstoppable two-metre tall Wookiee with two nigh-unstoppable laser weapons that can cut through anything. Master Skywalker laughs.

"Little Shi'ido. Prepare to die!"

I let the Force flow through me, dancing from step to step, going through the kata, pretending it's just a training exercise. It's worthy of a kai-kan. I've always been intrigued by Form II and my Master was one of the best Makashi dualists in the galaxy, second only to Count Dooku. First since Dooku's death on the Invisible Hand.

I let the Force guide my moves. Parry, attack, parry, parry, attack. Skywalker laughs.

"I should have taken you as my Padawan. You are skilled."

I almost, almost freeze up. Skywalker and Tano are like…well, like Kenobi and Skywalker, and Jinn and Kenobi before that, and Dooku and Jinn before that, and from the mission reports I've read, Yoda and Dooku. I narrowly avoid a slice to the arm. Great work Huur! You're going to get yourself killed! My Master's voice, gentle yet chiding echoes in my head.

"You must stop daydreaming Meer. One day, your life will hang in the balance."

I renew my attack, drawing on the Living Force, determined to ride this battle out, determined to kill this man who slaughtered younglings. Then I feel Zett die and I scream and my Wookiee form fades and Master Skywalker swings his sabre right through my chest. And my last thought is Sorry Master. I'm sorry I was never good enough for you.

My name is Meer Huur. I am Shi'ido and more. I am Jedi. I died in my sixteenth year. My death was one of countless. But it was not pointless. My sacrifice allowed eight Jedi younglings a chance to live. This Force Holocron was 'borrowed' from the Jedi Archives and I carry it with me to record my final moments so that people will know that Jedi are not monsters or traitors. We are people, just like you.

A.N. There are actually shape-shifting aliens called Shi'ido in the EU who all have a basic Force talent as they telepathically augment their physical shift to stop people noticing minor discrepancies. This was…odd to write, especially when I knew the character was going to die in the end.