As before, this all belongs to George Lucas. I make no money, I have no money, and I can give you no money if you sue me. Please just leave me be, because I probably won't stop writing because of it.
Feedback is encouraged and enjoyed. I write for myself, but I love getting those little emails that tell me you've posted. :) Brightens my day.
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Chapter Two - Chosen
There is a certain kind of child who appears in the crèche at the Jedi Temple. They aren't sought by the revered Jedi Masters; nor are they tested before being added to the groups of infants and small children. They are simply added to the group until some disappear in the first 'weeding out' ceremony, when these innocent children are sent on their way to orphanages, the AgriCorps, the Dipolmatic Corps, or some other training program under the awning and budget of the mighty Galactic Republic. Of course, that first farewell ceremony is only the first of many that each group of crechlings will experience, if they choose to be aware of them at all.
The children are collectively called the Jedi Mudlarks, although most will never hear the term until they are Knights put on crèche duties. Once they encounter the term, many wonder if they were ever a part of that group.
Mudlark is a term used within the orphanage systems of the Republic to refer to children left on the doorsteps of various institutions. Its origin comes from Dantooine tradition, where larks are a kind of bird that dwells in urban foliage. The males are a dun color, while the females are an even darker brown. They roll around in the mud that forms from the abundant rain that falls on the planet's surface and creates from the dirt roads and paths, covering their distinctive coloring. The young are iridescently colored, blue for females and green for males. However, they are also indistinguishable from rolling in the mud.
The implication in the Temple is that the Jedi never know what they've received in terms of talent. Some are bright within the Force, although most of the children left to the Jedi are infants so young it can't be easily determined for a few months what their potential is. Of the Mudlarks, over three forths are dismissed from the Order by age seven, and of the remaining forth, only half of them are chosen as Padawans. Of those remaining, chosen to be trained, most never distinguish themselves, although there are a few isolated cases of Knights and Masters who were legendary and also began their Jedi career as a Mudlark.
Although the actual figures aren't widely known in the Temple, the understanding within those who deal with the crechlings is that Mudlarks generally don't stay. There has been discussion within the Council and other influential Masters that perhaps this is a case of self-fulfilling prophecy; by not prohibiting those who teach the young Jedi to know the students' origins, they unconsciously treat the Mudlarks differently than the other students. Perhaps by expecting them to be dismissed, these children are treated differently, which causes their failures and eventual dismissal.
Qui-Gon Jinn was left on the Temple step on his third day of life, although no one in the Jedi Order would ever know that. His mother left him there with a datapad, and a small pendent carved from ebonite, tucked in his meager blanket, listing his name and her origins from the small Mid-Rim planet of Erieane. It also stated that she couldn't keep him but couldn't think of anyone else to turn to; the statement hinted at a deep mistrust of the Republic bureaucracy and institutions. No one ever saw her or heard from her again.
This story was well known to Qui-Gon, who still had the pendent. From the time he learned the story well enough to tell it to himself, he never tired of hearing it from those who watched him. He considered himself a child of the Jedi, one whose entire life, from birth to death, was dedicated to the great Order. His entire existence was wrapped up in becoming a Jedi, one who was respected and loved, one who never turned his back on the tenets of the Code or the spirit of the Order itself. It an oddly haunting way, Qui-Gon Jinn, from a young age, dedicated himself not to the leaders of the Jedi Order, those who were on the Council and those who made governing decisions, not to the revered leaders and wise people of the Temple. He dedicated himself to the ideals of the Jedi. From the first, Qui-Gon was a man of principle.
Five other students in Qui-Gon's age group were also Mudlarks, and they were good friends even though they didn't realize or understand the bond that they shared. Two, Eshe R'vare and Gy'si Keres, were clearly not Force sensitive, two, Kiok Quella and Terc Bisce, were sensitive, and Kiteran Niega was, like Qui-Gon, strongly Force sensitive.
If one were to analyze the crèche Masters and how they behaved towards the group, there wasn't any kind of defining behavior that could be picked out, a glaring transgression between the tested Jedi children and the Mudlarks. However, the slight bias did exist, and the children, as they will do, especially when they are precocious, as most Jedi crechlings are, picked up on it. A group of them acted upon it, shunning the Mudlarks in a most un-Jedi-like fashion, although most of the other crechlings didn't seem to care, not finding the importance in the minor distinction.
Lora Dax was the head of the group against the Mudlarks. She was tall, thin girl with a shock of dark hair and clear gray eyes that resembled the stormy oceans of Kamino. From the outset, she had a strong personality, the kind that attracted weaker people around her under the illusion of being protected. Her family was from the Outer Rim planet of Liat, and the common thought was that her parents were nobles there. There was no doubt, however, that she remembered them with much affection, if not accuracy.
Qui-Gon could take her or leave her, having established between them by the age of five that she didn't intimidate him, nor he her. He much preferred to spend his time with the other Mudlarks, and Kit in particular. She was quieter than the others in the group, which for some reason drew him to her. There was something about the girl that seemed almost hidden, reserved, as though something about her were a prized possession that had been broken but was loved too much to be thrown out. She was a humanoid with complex auburn hair and dark, deep brown eyes which often seem to conceal something that words couldn't explain.
The first of the two dismissals from the Order was a procedure that took place in the spring of the crechlings' eighth year, the second being when initiates were not chosen as Padawans at age thirteen. A few weeks before, the affected students, with the unspoken and incorrect implication that the situation didn't affect the students who remained behind, were to be notified of their imminent departure, a kind of juvenile warning to get their affairs in order before they were sent away.
Master Craylin, the head of their age group in the crèche, had been obviously agitated for a few days before, and the students received a few afternoons off from their regular studies for all of the crèche Masters to confer about the standing of the children.
Qui-Gon, Eshe, Gy'si, Kiok, Terc, and Kit all decided to spend the afternoon at the lake. Kiok, a Nautolan, stripped and dove right in, his head tentacles waving underwater as he pulled himself through. He appeared back on the surfaces, flipping them behind his head before looking at his friends still standing on the sandy beach. "C'mon! I know you're not all from wet worlds, but that doesn't mean the water's bad," he teased, splashing a little bit of water towards them.
Kit raised her eyebrows and gave him an enigmatic smile. "We can't all swim that well," she replied, peeling off layers of her tunics and stretching out on her belly onto the sand, warmed by the artificial sun, in only her underclothes. The lake was set up to mirror Coruscant's sun cycles as they were before the weather had been mechanized. Occasionally, for some variety within the small area, storms cropped up and the skies turned dark with simulated clouds, although rain never fell. Sometimes, lightening even flashed and thunder crashed, as a rare treat.
Eshe shrugged, her lekku twitching slightly. "Is it cold?" the Twi'lek asked, pulling off a few of her tunics to reveal her lavender skin. Jedi children were taught very young to be comfortable without clothing around others. Sex wasn't a matter of secrecy to them, and they would all undergo rituals eventually. Jedi would be poor guardians and mediators if sex held the glamour for them as it did for many other non-Jedi. Terc shoved her gently, making her stumble and splash out into the shallows, and grinned at her.
"Not too cold," the fair humanoid chuckled. He was close to her, like Qui-Gon was to Kit. Rumor had it that they had been brought to the Temple the same day, by the same Master. Kiok, however, just called it love, a word said in the hushed tones, something that the crèche Master must not hear. Even at this young age, they were discouraged, to what degree the children could be, from forming deep, lasting attachments that might be love.
Gy'si stripped and splashed into the water after Kiok, the Mon Calamari enjoying the water as it splashed onto his face. He and Kiok disappeared under the gently lapping waves to search the bottom for anything interesting. The two aquatic ones would appear soon enough after they decided there was nothing of interest there.
Qui-Gon sat in the sand next to Kit, pulling off his clothes as well to soak up the warmth and enjoy the afternoon off. The last few days had been filled with tests of sorts, weeding out the Force strength of each of the crechlings, although they knew nothing of what the information was for. Qui-Gon had felt the growing discomfort of his teachers when they had been near, however, and was confused as to this change. Usually they were confident and warm within the Force, not cold and detached.
Not ten minutes had passed when Lora appeared, a few of her friends in tow, beaming as though she'd just been asked to become a Padawan. She trouped over to Qui-Gon and Kit, blocking their light and kicking a little sand on them. Qui-Gon looked up, his lips curling down before he said curtly, "What do you want?"
"I just overheard something you'll find interesting," she replied, flipping her dark hair out of her flinty gray eyes. Terc and Eshe stopped playing in the shallows to regard the newcomers coolly, although they kept their distance.
"Doubtful," Qui-Gon replied. Kit propped herself up onto her elbows to study that face, her own features having fallen into an unreadable mask that defined Jedi Knights more than thrice her age.
Lora shrugged, her gleeful smile giving away the fact she wasn't as indifferent as she pretended. "This holiday will be some of your pals' last," the thin girl gloated, "so you might get out of it what you can."
The taller boy stood, his hands clutching slightly at his sides. "What do you mean, last?"
"It's a pretty simple idea."
Qui-Gon pushed himself into her face, his foggy green eyes staring hard into hers, not noticing that her friends were gathering closer. Terc and Eshe left the shallows, approaching slowly as Kit eased herself to her feet, standing a little behind and off Qui-Gon's left shoulder. "Then explain it to me," he said slowly, his tone dripping of unsaid desires of what he'd like to do to her.
"Some of us aren't meant to be Jedi," Lora replied airily. "Bye-bye to the Service Corps." She waved and smiled, glancing over her shoulder to visually include Eshe.
"Liar." Over Lora's shoulder, Qui-Gon could see Eshe's face drop. Her lekku fell still, and the lavender tint of her skin began to fade a little, softening into a pinker version of its normal hue. Terc glanced at her then back to Lora, before taking a few steps towards the human.
"You take that back, you bantha-kisser," he asserted.
"Maybe your friend can dance for a living," she shot back.
In an instant, Terc was on top of her, shoving her to the ground. Most of her group stood back, their expressions ranging between confidence in her victory to a desire not to be involved. Fighting among crechlings was no small matter. They tumbled in the sand, Terc managing to shove her face into it before she rolled and gained the advantage. Qui-Gon joined the fray, pulling Lora off of his friend. She took a swing at him, which hissed just millimeters away from the end of his nose. He moved back, stumbling in the sand and falling hard on his hind end.
Lora laughed viciously at him as she towered over. "You wait and see," was all she said before walking away back through the sand. Just before leaving the small beach, she turned back. "I just wanted to be the first to tell you!"
The next evening, about thirty of the crechlings were separated out of the group, Eshe R'vare and Gy'si Keres included, and taken away around dinnertime. Before the groups had been taken, the crèche Masters announced to all of them that there would be a few more final tests the next week before a two week holiday. Then the others were sent to eat in the small cafeteria as they normally did, and Terc, Kit, Qui-Gon, and Kiok had a hard time missing the superior look that covered Lora's face. A quiet, pensive atmosphere fell over the crechlings not taken with the Masters. They seemed to understand what was happening, that the move from crechling to initiate was one not all of them could make. No small group of friends was untouched; even Lora would lose two of her close friends.
After dinner, the crechlings were moved to the large gym where the others were returned to the large group. Normally, this was a time for play, either working on some of the Force games that strengthened their skills or just playing around. However, this evening the atmosphere was subdued. The crechlings divided themselves as usual, and most sat down to play card games or just exist together. The thrum of conversation was quieter than normal, and the afternoon's separation was the topic of choice for everyone.
Eshe walked over to her friends, her arms crossed tightly to her chest. She had retrieved a cream strip of fabric, which she had wrapped around her forehead and bound her lekku together. The tips occasionally quivered, but mostly they were strikingly still. The Mon Calamari walked a few steps behind her, his webbed hands shoved deep into the pockets on his leggings. Eshe walked through the loose circle and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, while Gy'si just looked down.
"Lora was right," was all she said.
Gy'si shrugged, his hands not moving. "The final tests we have next week are aptitude... They're going to use the results to decide where to send each of us. After the tests, we leave the next week."
Silence fell over the group for a few long moments. "Well, maybe we can smuggle you away somewhere. Have you run away and hide you somewhere in the Temple," Terc said finally. "There's got to be some way you can stay here."
"What's the point in running away if no one's going to come looking for you?" Eshe replied. She stood abruptly and staggered out of the group. The Twi'lek walked away before finding a place by herself to sit.
"She's got a point," Gy'si said. "They don't want us, so running away isn't much of a problem." He sat down slowly, making a wet, clicking sound with his mouth, a Mon Cal version of a sigh.
Qui-Gon frowned and got up, picking his way slowly to Eshe. He passed by Lora, who looked up and sneered. "You'd better give up your fascination with pathetic lifeforms. You're better off leaving her alone. She'll be gone in a few days."
His green-blue eyes hardened. "And what of your friends? Why don't you abandon them?"
"At least they're taking it like Jedi."
Qui-Gon snorted. "A skill that does them a lot of good now," he said quietly as he walked away.
Eshe curled away from him when he squatted next to her. "You... You think it will be nice out there?" she said hesitantly. Qui-Gon could hear a tremble in her voice, as well as her unspoken questions.
"It won't be as nice here," he replied. Eshe turned slightly, a grateful look on her face marred by the tears that flowed down her cheeks, onto her neck, and down into her tunic. She curled up next to him, putting her head in his lap. Awkwardly, Qui-Gon stroked her hair, not sure what else to say as her body shook from silent sobs.
"I just wanted to be a Jedi Healer," she said quietly. "Qui, I swear. - I didn't want to do anything amazing like save a planet or mediate the Senate. I just wanted to be a healer."
"You can still do that, Eshe. Most healers aren't Jedi."
"No... but the best ones are... I guess I'm just not good enough..." she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Even the last few words were choked off by a gasp for air and a lump in her throat.
"Don't say that. You've got the heart for it."
"Maybe."
Qui-Gon was at a loss, a little distracted as he watched the same situation play out in every other small group scattered across the floor. Even Lora seemed genuinely upset by the whole situation. Eshe and his friends had gotten to Gy'si to sit, although he still looked completely untouched. He wondered if that was some king of denial, as though the Mon Cal could pretend that nothing was wrong.
He looked down at Eshe's head in his lap, wondering, So what does make you good enough to stay?
A week and a few days later, a group of thirty-three crechlings huddled, talking quietly and nervously among themselves, on a windy landing dock which jutting out from the southern side of the Jedi Temple. Near them stood a larger group, about seventy, of initiates past the age to be chosen as Padawans. Two Jedi Masters stood with them, their arms folded deep inside their robes. To the side, slightly sheltered by an outcrop, stood another small, silent group of three more Masters and two Knights, as well as two new initiates, not even two days used to the title.
No other souls in the Temple were brave enough to witness this little advertised rite of passage for many of the children who passed through the hallowed doors.
Qui-Gon refused to pull up the hood to his outer cloak, which whipped around him. He glanced at the dark-haired girl next to him, also showing the same breed of defiance with her uncovered head and stormy eyes. "I didn't expect to see anyone else here to see them off," he said quietly, unsure of the response that this would earn him.
Lora shrugged, a gesture almost lost in the heavy wind. "I didn't figure they'd get the send-off they deserved. It kind of makes you think, knowing that all of them were loved by someone here..."
He nodded in response, a little shocked but what almost seemed like an admission of weakness, coming from her. "Do you think it's right?" he ventured.
Again, the almost invisible shrug, then Lora spread her arms apart. "Look at this crowd. Do you really think it matters?"
The two watched their former classmates herded onto the ship docked there. Qui-Gon watched as their heads turned around, looking for those faces about which Lora had spoken, the ones of the people who had loved them. Both Eshe and Gy'si found his, although that seemed little comfort as he watched the others' faces slid over his, unrecognizing, uncaring. Then they were gone, all of them, and the ship disappeared from view into the traffic lines that criss-crossed Corsucant.
Qui-Gon couldn't come up with a good response to Lora's question.
Feedback is encouraged and enjoyed. I write for myself, but I love getting those little emails that tell me you've posted. :) Brightens my day.
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Chapter Two - Chosen
There is a certain kind of child who appears in the crèche at the Jedi Temple. They aren't sought by the revered Jedi Masters; nor are they tested before being added to the groups of infants and small children. They are simply added to the group until some disappear in the first 'weeding out' ceremony, when these innocent children are sent on their way to orphanages, the AgriCorps, the Dipolmatic Corps, or some other training program under the awning and budget of the mighty Galactic Republic. Of course, that first farewell ceremony is only the first of many that each group of crechlings will experience, if they choose to be aware of them at all.
The children are collectively called the Jedi Mudlarks, although most will never hear the term until they are Knights put on crèche duties. Once they encounter the term, many wonder if they were ever a part of that group.
Mudlark is a term used within the orphanage systems of the Republic to refer to children left on the doorsteps of various institutions. Its origin comes from Dantooine tradition, where larks are a kind of bird that dwells in urban foliage. The males are a dun color, while the females are an even darker brown. They roll around in the mud that forms from the abundant rain that falls on the planet's surface and creates from the dirt roads and paths, covering their distinctive coloring. The young are iridescently colored, blue for females and green for males. However, they are also indistinguishable from rolling in the mud.
The implication in the Temple is that the Jedi never know what they've received in terms of talent. Some are bright within the Force, although most of the children left to the Jedi are infants so young it can't be easily determined for a few months what their potential is. Of the Mudlarks, over three forths are dismissed from the Order by age seven, and of the remaining forth, only half of them are chosen as Padawans. Of those remaining, chosen to be trained, most never distinguish themselves, although there are a few isolated cases of Knights and Masters who were legendary and also began their Jedi career as a Mudlark.
Although the actual figures aren't widely known in the Temple, the understanding within those who deal with the crechlings is that Mudlarks generally don't stay. There has been discussion within the Council and other influential Masters that perhaps this is a case of self-fulfilling prophecy; by not prohibiting those who teach the young Jedi to know the students' origins, they unconsciously treat the Mudlarks differently than the other students. Perhaps by expecting them to be dismissed, these children are treated differently, which causes their failures and eventual dismissal.
Qui-Gon Jinn was left on the Temple step on his third day of life, although no one in the Jedi Order would ever know that. His mother left him there with a datapad, and a small pendent carved from ebonite, tucked in his meager blanket, listing his name and her origins from the small Mid-Rim planet of Erieane. It also stated that she couldn't keep him but couldn't think of anyone else to turn to; the statement hinted at a deep mistrust of the Republic bureaucracy and institutions. No one ever saw her or heard from her again.
This story was well known to Qui-Gon, who still had the pendent. From the time he learned the story well enough to tell it to himself, he never tired of hearing it from those who watched him. He considered himself a child of the Jedi, one whose entire life, from birth to death, was dedicated to the great Order. His entire existence was wrapped up in becoming a Jedi, one who was respected and loved, one who never turned his back on the tenets of the Code or the spirit of the Order itself. It an oddly haunting way, Qui-Gon Jinn, from a young age, dedicated himself not to the leaders of the Jedi Order, those who were on the Council and those who made governing decisions, not to the revered leaders and wise people of the Temple. He dedicated himself to the ideals of the Jedi. From the first, Qui-Gon was a man of principle.
Five other students in Qui-Gon's age group were also Mudlarks, and they were good friends even though they didn't realize or understand the bond that they shared. Two, Eshe R'vare and Gy'si Keres, were clearly not Force sensitive, two, Kiok Quella and Terc Bisce, were sensitive, and Kiteran Niega was, like Qui-Gon, strongly Force sensitive.
If one were to analyze the crèche Masters and how they behaved towards the group, there wasn't any kind of defining behavior that could be picked out, a glaring transgression between the tested Jedi children and the Mudlarks. However, the slight bias did exist, and the children, as they will do, especially when they are precocious, as most Jedi crechlings are, picked up on it. A group of them acted upon it, shunning the Mudlarks in a most un-Jedi-like fashion, although most of the other crechlings didn't seem to care, not finding the importance in the minor distinction.
Lora Dax was the head of the group against the Mudlarks. She was tall, thin girl with a shock of dark hair and clear gray eyes that resembled the stormy oceans of Kamino. From the outset, she had a strong personality, the kind that attracted weaker people around her under the illusion of being protected. Her family was from the Outer Rim planet of Liat, and the common thought was that her parents were nobles there. There was no doubt, however, that she remembered them with much affection, if not accuracy.
Qui-Gon could take her or leave her, having established between them by the age of five that she didn't intimidate him, nor he her. He much preferred to spend his time with the other Mudlarks, and Kit in particular. She was quieter than the others in the group, which for some reason drew him to her. There was something about the girl that seemed almost hidden, reserved, as though something about her were a prized possession that had been broken but was loved too much to be thrown out. She was a humanoid with complex auburn hair and dark, deep brown eyes which often seem to conceal something that words couldn't explain.
The first of the two dismissals from the Order was a procedure that took place in the spring of the crechlings' eighth year, the second being when initiates were not chosen as Padawans at age thirteen. A few weeks before, the affected students, with the unspoken and incorrect implication that the situation didn't affect the students who remained behind, were to be notified of their imminent departure, a kind of juvenile warning to get their affairs in order before they were sent away.
Master Craylin, the head of their age group in the crèche, had been obviously agitated for a few days before, and the students received a few afternoons off from their regular studies for all of the crèche Masters to confer about the standing of the children.
Qui-Gon, Eshe, Gy'si, Kiok, Terc, and Kit all decided to spend the afternoon at the lake. Kiok, a Nautolan, stripped and dove right in, his head tentacles waving underwater as he pulled himself through. He appeared back on the surfaces, flipping them behind his head before looking at his friends still standing on the sandy beach. "C'mon! I know you're not all from wet worlds, but that doesn't mean the water's bad," he teased, splashing a little bit of water towards them.
Kit raised her eyebrows and gave him an enigmatic smile. "We can't all swim that well," she replied, peeling off layers of her tunics and stretching out on her belly onto the sand, warmed by the artificial sun, in only her underclothes. The lake was set up to mirror Coruscant's sun cycles as they were before the weather had been mechanized. Occasionally, for some variety within the small area, storms cropped up and the skies turned dark with simulated clouds, although rain never fell. Sometimes, lightening even flashed and thunder crashed, as a rare treat.
Eshe shrugged, her lekku twitching slightly. "Is it cold?" the Twi'lek asked, pulling off a few of her tunics to reveal her lavender skin. Jedi children were taught very young to be comfortable without clothing around others. Sex wasn't a matter of secrecy to them, and they would all undergo rituals eventually. Jedi would be poor guardians and mediators if sex held the glamour for them as it did for many other non-Jedi. Terc shoved her gently, making her stumble and splash out into the shallows, and grinned at her.
"Not too cold," the fair humanoid chuckled. He was close to her, like Qui-Gon was to Kit. Rumor had it that they had been brought to the Temple the same day, by the same Master. Kiok, however, just called it love, a word said in the hushed tones, something that the crèche Master must not hear. Even at this young age, they were discouraged, to what degree the children could be, from forming deep, lasting attachments that might be love.
Gy'si stripped and splashed into the water after Kiok, the Mon Calamari enjoying the water as it splashed onto his face. He and Kiok disappeared under the gently lapping waves to search the bottom for anything interesting. The two aquatic ones would appear soon enough after they decided there was nothing of interest there.
Qui-Gon sat in the sand next to Kit, pulling off his clothes as well to soak up the warmth and enjoy the afternoon off. The last few days had been filled with tests of sorts, weeding out the Force strength of each of the crechlings, although they knew nothing of what the information was for. Qui-Gon had felt the growing discomfort of his teachers when they had been near, however, and was confused as to this change. Usually they were confident and warm within the Force, not cold and detached.
Not ten minutes had passed when Lora appeared, a few of her friends in tow, beaming as though she'd just been asked to become a Padawan. She trouped over to Qui-Gon and Kit, blocking their light and kicking a little sand on them. Qui-Gon looked up, his lips curling down before he said curtly, "What do you want?"
"I just overheard something you'll find interesting," she replied, flipping her dark hair out of her flinty gray eyes. Terc and Eshe stopped playing in the shallows to regard the newcomers coolly, although they kept their distance.
"Doubtful," Qui-Gon replied. Kit propped herself up onto her elbows to study that face, her own features having fallen into an unreadable mask that defined Jedi Knights more than thrice her age.
Lora shrugged, her gleeful smile giving away the fact she wasn't as indifferent as she pretended. "This holiday will be some of your pals' last," the thin girl gloated, "so you might get out of it what you can."
The taller boy stood, his hands clutching slightly at his sides. "What do you mean, last?"
"It's a pretty simple idea."
Qui-Gon pushed himself into her face, his foggy green eyes staring hard into hers, not noticing that her friends were gathering closer. Terc and Eshe left the shallows, approaching slowly as Kit eased herself to her feet, standing a little behind and off Qui-Gon's left shoulder. "Then explain it to me," he said slowly, his tone dripping of unsaid desires of what he'd like to do to her.
"Some of us aren't meant to be Jedi," Lora replied airily. "Bye-bye to the Service Corps." She waved and smiled, glancing over her shoulder to visually include Eshe.
"Liar." Over Lora's shoulder, Qui-Gon could see Eshe's face drop. Her lekku fell still, and the lavender tint of her skin began to fade a little, softening into a pinker version of its normal hue. Terc glanced at her then back to Lora, before taking a few steps towards the human.
"You take that back, you bantha-kisser," he asserted.
"Maybe your friend can dance for a living," she shot back.
In an instant, Terc was on top of her, shoving her to the ground. Most of her group stood back, their expressions ranging between confidence in her victory to a desire not to be involved. Fighting among crechlings was no small matter. They tumbled in the sand, Terc managing to shove her face into it before she rolled and gained the advantage. Qui-Gon joined the fray, pulling Lora off of his friend. She took a swing at him, which hissed just millimeters away from the end of his nose. He moved back, stumbling in the sand and falling hard on his hind end.
Lora laughed viciously at him as she towered over. "You wait and see," was all she said before walking away back through the sand. Just before leaving the small beach, she turned back. "I just wanted to be the first to tell you!"
The next evening, about thirty of the crechlings were separated out of the group, Eshe R'vare and Gy'si Keres included, and taken away around dinnertime. Before the groups had been taken, the crèche Masters announced to all of them that there would be a few more final tests the next week before a two week holiday. Then the others were sent to eat in the small cafeteria as they normally did, and Terc, Kit, Qui-Gon, and Kiok had a hard time missing the superior look that covered Lora's face. A quiet, pensive atmosphere fell over the crechlings not taken with the Masters. They seemed to understand what was happening, that the move from crechling to initiate was one not all of them could make. No small group of friends was untouched; even Lora would lose two of her close friends.
After dinner, the crechlings were moved to the large gym where the others were returned to the large group. Normally, this was a time for play, either working on some of the Force games that strengthened their skills or just playing around. However, this evening the atmosphere was subdued. The crechlings divided themselves as usual, and most sat down to play card games or just exist together. The thrum of conversation was quieter than normal, and the afternoon's separation was the topic of choice for everyone.
Eshe walked over to her friends, her arms crossed tightly to her chest. She had retrieved a cream strip of fabric, which she had wrapped around her forehead and bound her lekku together. The tips occasionally quivered, but mostly they were strikingly still. The Mon Calamari walked a few steps behind her, his webbed hands shoved deep into the pockets on his leggings. Eshe walked through the loose circle and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, while Gy'si just looked down.
"Lora was right," was all she said.
Gy'si shrugged, his hands not moving. "The final tests we have next week are aptitude... They're going to use the results to decide where to send each of us. After the tests, we leave the next week."
Silence fell over the group for a few long moments. "Well, maybe we can smuggle you away somewhere. Have you run away and hide you somewhere in the Temple," Terc said finally. "There's got to be some way you can stay here."
"What's the point in running away if no one's going to come looking for you?" Eshe replied. She stood abruptly and staggered out of the group. The Twi'lek walked away before finding a place by herself to sit.
"She's got a point," Gy'si said. "They don't want us, so running away isn't much of a problem." He sat down slowly, making a wet, clicking sound with his mouth, a Mon Cal version of a sigh.
Qui-Gon frowned and got up, picking his way slowly to Eshe. He passed by Lora, who looked up and sneered. "You'd better give up your fascination with pathetic lifeforms. You're better off leaving her alone. She'll be gone in a few days."
His green-blue eyes hardened. "And what of your friends? Why don't you abandon them?"
"At least they're taking it like Jedi."
Qui-Gon snorted. "A skill that does them a lot of good now," he said quietly as he walked away.
Eshe curled away from him when he squatted next to her. "You... You think it will be nice out there?" she said hesitantly. Qui-Gon could hear a tremble in her voice, as well as her unspoken questions.
"It won't be as nice here," he replied. Eshe turned slightly, a grateful look on her face marred by the tears that flowed down her cheeks, onto her neck, and down into her tunic. She curled up next to him, putting her head in his lap. Awkwardly, Qui-Gon stroked her hair, not sure what else to say as her body shook from silent sobs.
"I just wanted to be a Jedi Healer," she said quietly. "Qui, I swear. - I didn't want to do anything amazing like save a planet or mediate the Senate. I just wanted to be a healer."
"You can still do that, Eshe. Most healers aren't Jedi."
"No... but the best ones are... I guess I'm just not good enough..." she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Even the last few words were choked off by a gasp for air and a lump in her throat.
"Don't say that. You've got the heart for it."
"Maybe."
Qui-Gon was at a loss, a little distracted as he watched the same situation play out in every other small group scattered across the floor. Even Lora seemed genuinely upset by the whole situation. Eshe and his friends had gotten to Gy'si to sit, although he still looked completely untouched. He wondered if that was some king of denial, as though the Mon Cal could pretend that nothing was wrong.
He looked down at Eshe's head in his lap, wondering, So what does make you good enough to stay?
A week and a few days later, a group of thirty-three crechlings huddled, talking quietly and nervously among themselves, on a windy landing dock which jutting out from the southern side of the Jedi Temple. Near them stood a larger group, about seventy, of initiates past the age to be chosen as Padawans. Two Jedi Masters stood with them, their arms folded deep inside their robes. To the side, slightly sheltered by an outcrop, stood another small, silent group of three more Masters and two Knights, as well as two new initiates, not even two days used to the title.
No other souls in the Temple were brave enough to witness this little advertised rite of passage for many of the children who passed through the hallowed doors.
Qui-Gon refused to pull up the hood to his outer cloak, which whipped around him. He glanced at the dark-haired girl next to him, also showing the same breed of defiance with her uncovered head and stormy eyes. "I didn't expect to see anyone else here to see them off," he said quietly, unsure of the response that this would earn him.
Lora shrugged, a gesture almost lost in the heavy wind. "I didn't figure they'd get the send-off they deserved. It kind of makes you think, knowing that all of them were loved by someone here..."
He nodded in response, a little shocked but what almost seemed like an admission of weakness, coming from her. "Do you think it's right?" he ventured.
Again, the almost invisible shrug, then Lora spread her arms apart. "Look at this crowd. Do you really think it matters?"
The two watched their former classmates herded onto the ship docked there. Qui-Gon watched as their heads turned around, looking for those faces about which Lora had spoken, the ones of the people who had loved them. Both Eshe and Gy'si found his, although that seemed little comfort as he watched the others' faces slid over his, unrecognizing, uncaring. Then they were gone, all of them, and the ship disappeared from view into the traffic lines that criss-crossed Corsucant.
Qui-Gon couldn't come up with a good response to Lora's question.
