Title: All
Those Who Take the Sword
Author(s): Lady
Irelynne
Timeframe: Jedi Purges
Characters: OCs,
some mention of Darth Vader
Genre: Action, Romance, Angst,
Drama
Keywords:
Summary: A Jedi Padawan is badly
injured and on the run, having lost her friends and her Jedi Master.
What will it take in order for her to love or even trust
again?
Notes: This is from the JC Title Challenge (http:boards. FanFictionResource/ b10304/16954123?86- remove spaces in link).
And so it begins...
Feet pounded the duracrete streets as Alina searched vainly for a hiding spot. She dared not go back to her old haunts, couldn't risk any of the medwards or clinics. Where could she go?
Booted feet echoed simultaneously, and she tossed a frightened glance over her shoulder. Her terror coiled in her belly, slithered along her spine, and made her heart beat erratically. Her breath shallow, she fought to demolish the fear, but couldn't it, and she could feel its icy tendrils creeping into her mind.
Dead, all dead. Jasken, Fete, Veli. And, Her breath caught and she tripped, scraping her knees along the harsh ground, ripping open her dark pants. Master Delesaka. She moaned quietly with pain and staggered to her feet, her hand catching on the side of the building. She pulled it away seconds later, and stumbled along the road, not noticing the red handprint that defaced the dark cream of the wall.
The wall she was leaning against as she staggered along the pathway all of a sudden disappeared, and she collapsed in a pile in the alleyway. "There she is!" She could hear the deep voice of one of the men chasing her, and she fought back the fear that threatened to freeze her whole body. A Jedi knows no fear, Alina. Her master's warm voice echoed in her mind, and the girl relaxed, then levered herself off the ground. Her body protested the abuse, but she forced it to the back of her mind as she began running again.
She'd been running for weeks now, racing along the countryside, cowering in the cities of Corellia. She was exhausted, wounded, hungry, and cold, but she couldn't stop. The mandate was out- all Jedi were to be exterminated, along with anyone who aided "those vile creatures". Stupid bloody Sith-lovers! her mind muttered ferociously.
Blast bolts whined above her head, and she automatically ducked and rolled into the near alleyway. Her lightsaber remained on her belt as she drew one of her two remaining blasters and checked the power pack. Half-full. It would hold for at least twenty more shots. At least, she hoped it would.
Stop filling your mind with useless hopes, girl! Pay attention to reality, or you'll end up with a vibroblade between your ribs because you hoped you could convince some hardened murderer to not to turn you in! Fete's voice echoed in her mind, and she sniffed, wiping away snot and tears, and blood.
"Damned 'troopers!" she spat suddenly as blast bolts dug into the corner of the plaster near her head. A handful of other curses continued the thought as some of the plaster landed on her head, which was still recovering from the concussion she'd gotten several days ago.
Focus Alina. You can do this. You can beat them. She took a deep, calming breath, and focused her mind, letting it drop into the ever-flowing river of the Force. Four life-signs showed on the street, separated from her only by the corner of the building she was leaning against. Keeping their position locked into her mind, she gathered the energy, bracing herself for the pain, and threw herself out into the middle of the road, blaster out. Rolling, she snapped off six shots, noting that all but one of the soldiers were down now as she collided with the other building.
Ignoring the protests of her ribs and bruised body, she flipped herself onto her feet and fired three shots at the soldier. He didn't have a chance, and slowly flopped down into the dust and debris covered street without even a sound. Alina stood there for a minute, feeling lightheaded as the last week began catching up to her. Think, Alina! You need food, rest. You need to heal. Where did Master Delesaka say you could go if there was trouble?
"Something on Retan Street." She cursed. She had no idea where she was, or how to get there. Map, dummy. "Right. A map." Only she had no idea where to find one. Come on, Alina, think for once in your miserable life. You know you've got blood still pumping to your brain, now use that bundle of nerves!
Staggering down the street, leaving an obvious bloody trail behind, she slowly made her way to the intersection, and noted the various speeders lined up in front of the buildings. A plan began to formulate in her mind, and the Jedi Padawan crept stealthily along the sidewalk. Seconds later, an engine was revving, and then she was off.
Somehow Lady Fate seemed to be enjoying the irony of her situation, for she had stolen what was probably the only speeder in the galaxy with a computer that had a smart-aleck attitude, but a map built in. "Did you somehow forget the passcode to the bike that you stole!" the stupid thing wailed. "I'm going to lose all this expensive lacquer, and it's only a week old! Watch that corner! Where did you learn how to drive a luxury speeder like me? You're going to ruin me! You must certainly did not possess any sort of speeder license unless you got it on some forsaken backwater planet!" The thing wouldn't shut up!
Finally, he-it!- took her to Malken Street, which was right next to Retan Street, and she dumped the thing. "Thank the Force," she whispered. Do you remember anything Master Delesaka told you about this man? Like his name, for instance? Or maybe the number of his house? an acid-laced voice in her mind demanded.
"Shut up!" she hissed quietly. "I'm trying to remember it, and you're not helping!" That seemed to quiet the voice, and she concentrated all her memory on trying to remember the information her master had passed on when they'd fled Coruscant.
A strong hand latched around her arm at that moment, breaking her concentration, and affectively hiding her from sight. A skinny, black-haired man stood there, fixing her with a blue glare. "Are you trying to get me killed?" he spat furiously, even as he began punching a complicated sequence of numbers into the keycode station next to the door.
All in a rush, the name came to her. "Wiltive Daleby," she whispered.
He eyed her through his curly shock of hair. "That's me. Who are you?"
"Padawan Alinketa Vepos," the Jedi wearily replied. He started turning fuzzy around the edges, then swaying back and forth. "Stop that," Alina commanded. "You're giving me a headache."
"I've got to get these numbers in before the soldiers come back," he informed her, giving her a quizzical glance before turning back to the fuzzy black object that was beeping
She huffed a sigh. "Not that," she condescended. "Stop swaying. It's making me dizzy, and I've-". Abruptly, she swallowed as bile began rushing up into her throat. "Please forgive me. I'm not feeling too well." And then she could feel her body heaving as she folded over.
"Dammit! Not here! Not where they can get a sample!" The door slid open, and she could feel his hands on her body, dragging her through. It hissed quietly behind her, and when she opened her eyes, she could see nothing but a wild kaleidoscope of color, exploding in various patterns that made her head hurt even more.
"Make it stop," she moaned.
"No! Not the shoes! Oh, why do I always get the hard cases?" she could hear Daleby complain, right before a needle was stabbed into her arm and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
Her first thought when waking was that she had fallen into the hands of the Empire. She could hear sophisticated medical equipment whirring and beeping all around her, and when she concentrated, one of those beeps sounded in sync with her heartbeat. A blanket had apparently been tossed over her body, and she could feel its gentle heaviness cocooning her lightly against the bed she was lying in. Her second thought was to wonder why they were trying to save her life, instead of killing her.
"She's awake," a soft, feminine voice announced to the room Yeah, why not invite everybody else to join in the torture? her mind demanded caustically.
"Why hasn't she opened her eyes?" a quieter, masculine voice demanded. So that I can pretend that this is all a bad dream, why else? her mind shot back, even as she kept her face as smooth and expressionless as an empty pond on a windless day.
"Padawan Alinketa Vepos, you may open your eyes. You are among friends." The third voice was masculine, but old. Very old.
"Kid, wake up." The fourth voice she recognized, and her mind summoned up a picture of a dark haired man cursing as she puked all over his boots.
"Sorry about your boots Daleby," she said. Her eyes flew open when it came out as little more than a rasp, scorching her vocal cords. A glass of water was pressed into her hand, and she nodded a thank you to the woman who had brought it to her, a long blonde braid swinging with every step.
With each sip from the glass, she looked over the group crowded around her bed, and her surroundings. The blonde woman had to have been the first speaker from when she had originally woken up. The white haired man next to her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, dark eyes staring straight into Alina's, had to have been the old man she had heard before. She recognized Daleby from before, which meant that the brown haired, green eyed man standing on her immediate left was the other man from before.
Her bed, with its warm blanket, was crowded into a cramped room, filled with another bed, some machines she recognized from her various stays in medwards, and a bank of computers. "Where the hell am I?" she demanded, noting to her satisfaction that the words came out stronger this time.
"Our home," Daleby informed her. "I'd like you to meet my father, Malen Daleby, my younger brother Jorgeham, and Felja."
"What relation?" Alina asked.
Wiltive blushed, as did Felja. "My wife. She's been keeping people like you alive."
"People like me?
The quiet, brown-haired man- Jorgeham- spoke up. "Jedi. Or did you think that you were the only one?" he demanded caustically.
Emotion began welling up inside of her, and she jerked her gaze to a spot where she couldn't see anyone. Only one? How could I when I saw my friends blown apart before my own eyes? When Master Delesaka was killed as we ran?
"That was uncalled for, Jorge," Malen admonished quietly.
"Don't worry about it," Alina turned back to them, pulling her body upwards into a sitting position. Cuts and abused muscles screamed, but she ignored them as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "I'm used to it by now."
There was no need to reply to that; they all know what she meant. Felja rushed forward to push her back on the bed when she started to put her weight on her feet. "No! You're not healed yet! You need more rest!"
"How long have I been out?" Alina demanded through gritted teeth as she transferred more and more weight to her legs and began to stand up straight. I'll have to go into a healing trance later.
"Three days. It would have been the fourth in two hours," Jorge told her quietly.
Her head spun around to stare at him in shock, and she lost her grasp on the tenuous control that had allowed her to try standing. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, whacking her head painfully against the wooden edge of the bed.
The Dalebys rushed to help her back into bed, but she waved off their hands, not wanting to show weakness. Finally, after several minutes of grunting and opening wounds, she gave up, and simply sat there, blood staining the plain gray shift she wore. Felja swore, and sent Jorge on a mission to retrieve something- Alina didn't catch what- and the remaining Dalebys lifted the Jedi up. They placed her gently down on a cold metal surface, and she flinched.
"Sorry," Felja apologized, bustling over with a metal basin of water, some bottles, and several clothes. "We're going to need to get these clothes off you, so you don't leave stains." A hissing door signified the Dalebys retreat to give her privacy, and Felja helped her into a sitting position.
The woman began unsnapping the back of the gown. "When Wil brought you here, I could hardly believe you were still alive. You're lucky to be, you know."
The gray cloth fell forward, exposing her to midwaist, and Alina looked down at the white bandages- rapidly turning red- that kept her modesty. And then that covering was gone. The bandages disappeared into a basket, and the blonde woman ran a cloth gently over the bleeding wounds. "How did you get so badly hurt, anyway?" she asked, dropping the cloth into the same basket as the bandages, and wetting another in the bowl.
"Running. First, trying to save-" Alina cut herself off sharply, the memories hurting. "I don't want to talk about it."
Felja nodded, seeming to understand the Jedi's reluctance to talk to a near stranger about the horrific incidents that she had been through. Alina looked down at herself as the woman began cleaning her back. A blast wound disfigured her shoulder, but that would heal quickly, especially with a trance. A long cut swiped between her breasts, then cutting to the right, along the bottom of her rib cage. She brushed a gentle hand over it, remembering the soldier who had given it to her, right before she'd killed him.
The smoke crowded the small intersection, slowly dispersing, but not quickly enough. Jasken was back to back with her, and she could feel his muscles shifting as he twirled his lightsaber, blocking blast bolt after blast bolt. Fete and Veli were in the same position; she could see her green lightsaber and his blue one clearly, even through the haze crowding her eyes as dust and smoke billowed.
"Reinforcements coming!" Veli shouted, desperate to be heard over the whines of shots, and the screams of frightened civilians as they were cut ruthlessly down by the stormtroopers. We should save them, Alina thought desperately to herself, even as her arms ached with fatigue. They'd been running for the last three days, ever since her Master had been cut down.
A scream caught her attention, and she spared a quick glance over to see the green blade of Fete disappear, the black-skinned girl collapsing to the ground. No! Stop this! her mind screamed, even as she blocked shots monotonously.
"They're coming in!" Jasken shouted, and then they were rushed. Backs pressed tight together, Alina's heart ached for Veli, who was partnerless, forced to watch both his back and front. It would take a miracle for him to survive this conflict. Forget a miracle to save him- it'll take a miracle to get any of you out of this alive, her mind cruelly reminded her.
Her green blade, bluer than Fete's, cut through waves of soldiers, slicing through flesh and metal like they were nothing, a mere blur in the conflict. Fete was nineteen, the oldest of them. Jasken was turning that age in a month, but both Veli and Alina had more than a quarter of a year to go before they reached that oh-so vaulted age. And now none of you will, some deceitful part of her mind whispered. Not unless you embrace it.
"No!" she screamed. I won't do it. I won't turn to the Dark Side.
Your choice. You could save all your friends, that cruel voice whispered.
And become their worst nightmare? I don't think so!
Your choice, the voice whispered, lingering for a second, then disappearing. Alina shook off the uneasiness that threatened to overwhelm her, and focused on defending herself and Jasken.
An agonized cry came from her side, and she watched, horrified, tears streaming through blood and dirt, as Veli crumpled and his blue lightsaber extinguished. Calling it to her with the Force, Alina concentrated once more on the soldiers attempting to rush her.
But her moment of distraction cost her, and she felt a burning pain along her torso as a young soldier who couldn't have been more than a handful of years older than her rammed the sharp bayonet of his gun into her chest. Gasping with pain, she pulled away, her body twisting, and ripping the point down her chest and along her ribcage.
She hit the ground, and she could feel the butt of his gun displace air as it came crashing down on her spine. She screamed, but rolled, her back not broken thank the Force, then whipped her lightsaber up. It cut through flesh and bone easily, and then met no resistance. The boy collapsed, and she wanted to stare at him, to scream at the person whose stupidity had led to this whole mess, but she had to fight. Blaster bolts were cutting through the air all around her.
But then Jasken's fingers wrapped tight around her wrist and he was jerking her into an alley. No soldiers followed them, and he was parting the edges of her torn jacket to look over her wound. "No time for better care," he told her as he ripped off his jacket, and then his shirt. The jacket was flung back on, but Jasken quickly ripped the cream colored shirt into strips. "Help me out here, Alina," he barked, and she started, then lifted her arms. He pulled off her jacket, then began wrapping the make-shift bandages around her chest and midriff. His long fingers wrapped and folded quickly, then he was jerking her bloody jacket back over it and dragging her to his feet.
Booted feet echoed even in the alley, and they raced towards the high fence at the other end. Jasken helped her ove-
"Oh, bloody hellfire!"
Alina was jerked out of her unpleasant memories when a harsh male voice interrupted them, and she stared with incomprehension at Jorge, who had just entered the small room, a pile of gray cloth in his hand. He stared back at her, a deep blush coloring his tan cheekbones, and then the Jedi remembered. "Oh!" she cried, scrambling for the cloth of the gray shift she had been wearing before and jerking it over her exposed midriff.
"Sorry," he muttered, looking away when she was covered and handing the cloth to Felja.
The woman murmured apologies as well, then hurried him through the door. "I'm sorry about Jorge bursting in like that," she began quietly, helping Alina put her arms through the corresponding holes in the new gray shift Jorge had brought.
"Don't worry about it," Alina reassured her absentmindedly. "Growing up with a bunch of guys means that I'm used to people bursting in on me." Tears began to well up as she thought of her friends, and she hastily batted the emotion away, asking, "How badly was I hurt?"
The blonde woman seemed to understand the need for another topic, and informed her, "You broke your right ankle- I used a bacta batch on that- and four of your ribs. I used another bacta patch on them, and wrapped them. You were covered with blood when you got here, but little of it was yours. The bit that was yours was mostly from that cut on your chest, the one on your hip, the three across your back, and the cuts along your thighs and calves, but nothing too serious. You have a severe concussion, three cracked ribs, and some very serious bruising. On top of that, you were malnourished, dehydrated, and exhausted."
"How long until I'm off your hands, completely healed?"
"Three months, at least, if you want to get back into the condition that you were before this started. We'll hide you," Felja reassured her.
"No, I'll just get you killed," the Jedi replied grimly. She sighed, burying her face in her hands, then met Felja's blue eyes. "I want you to get me back into fighting shape as quickly as possible," she ordered. "But first," she quirked her mouth in a wry smile, "can I have something to eat?"
