Finding a Way
"Who we are never changes, who we think we are does."
The harsh, dry wind whipped across his face, and he squinted his eyes as the gunship descended through the air. The rumble of the drip ship's engines dopplered through their heads and bodies.
"Two minutes from the drop zone!" the clone pilot said through everyone's comm systems. The clones all had their helmets on, the blue skinned Jedi Padawan had small earpieces in. The craft began to rock with flack detonations around them. The clones looked at each other.
"Nothing we haven't seen before gents," he heard Commander Gray say through the comms circuit. The interior was suddenly lit with orange and yellow flashes as the gun ships on either side of them were hit with ground fire.
"Hold on back there!" the pilot's voice said over the comms line, "we're taking evasive action." The clones held the over grips tight as the gunship swung back and forth hard. Everyone felt in the pits of their stomachs as the gunship descended rapidly, very rapidly. Before they knew it, the overhead light turned green, and the sides of the craft slid open. The Jedi Padawan jumped out and the clones behind him. Before long, all twenty-four were on the ground behind him, and he was assessing the area.
The red dust flew into Mit'teem's face as the drop ship lifted back off. Missiles streaked through the sky as the clanker's anti-air fire intensified.
"Commander Gray, we need a tank on the ground to provide counter-battery fire!" Mit'teem said calmly into the comms circuit.
"Copy that, Commander," the clone trooper responded as he put his non-firing hand up to the side of his helmet opening a comm channel to the landing force. Mit'teem looked to the sky and saw a landing carrier taking heavy fire. There were blue flashes against its hull as the blaster artillery bolts wore its shields down.
Suddenly, one of its engines exploded in a flash. Mit'teem squinted his eyes as he saw the massive hyper drive engine detach from the bottom of the ship.
To his left two tank lifters descended and dropped a pair of AT-TEs. The six-legged tanks got their bearings as the lifts raced away at a low altitude.
"Commander! Get the coordinates for the Separatists' artillery positions and coordinate with the tanks. We have to silence those guns. The last thing we need is starships falling out of the sky on our position!"
"Yes, Commander. Right away."
The ground all around them rumbled. They looked toward the catacomb super structure in the distance, and it looked like a thousand green bolts rose into the air. As their ascent slowed, they could all tell the bolts were nosing over. This was artillery.
"Take cover behind me!" Mit'teem shouted. He drew his lightsaber and activated it. A bright yellow beam lanced out from the skeletal hilt. The clones piled up behind him as the bolts approached them at an incredible speed. As the bolts slammed into the ground and hurled chunks of dirt of all sizes into the air, Mit'teem forcefully deflected the ones he could. These were no small-time blaster bolts. This was field artillery. In order to counter their impacts, he swung his lightsaber like a hammer.
Over and over, he powerfully swung his blade deflecting the bolts to the side. The clones tucked their heads as the ground was turned into shrapnel. Dirt and rock shards danced off everyone's armor.
After fifteen seconds, the rain of bolts stopped, and Mit'teem lowered his blade and began to catch his breath. He looked to his left. One tank survived. It aimed its main gun into the sky at an angle and began returning fire.
Mit'teem felt something in the Force calling to his right. He looked over his right shoulder at a tall dirt spire. The sides of it crumbled, and bug-like creatures crawled out of it. Geonosians. Before he could warn his troopers, they flew down toward them with, armed and unarmed. He turned and shouted a warning toward his men, but it was too late. One of his troopers was impaled six feet from his right, and blood sprayed across his face.
Mit'teem shook awake. Without a lightsaber. Without armor. Without an army. In his bed, totally on the sidelines.
The glow of Coruscant poured into the windows of his dorm room. He sat up and cleared his eyes, their soft red glow bright in the low light as they did on Geonosis. He pivoted on the bed and put his feet on the carpeted floor. He hung his head slightly and let out a sigh. He wondered how long the dreams would persist.
"Here and now," he said out loud to himself. "Here and now."
He remembered it was nearing midterms for his first semester. He was in the last week of class before dead week, the week where there was no class, instead just time to study. He stood up and stretched, flexing his entire body. The light of Coruscant fell over his muscular, blue torso. He let his arms fall to his sides and approached the window. He opened the slatted blinds all the way and looked out over the city's majesty. He took a deep breath and gazed over it. The city planet never ceased to amaze him. He ran his hand through his hair and began getting ready for his morning physical training before class. He pulled a light shirt on and strapped on his running shoes. He put his school ID card and room key card in a small, plastic sleeve and slid it into his pocket. It was back-day.
He stepped up to the door, it slid open, he stepped through. It closed behind him, and he held the key card up to the sensor, and the mechanism locked with a click.
It had already been six months since he left the Jedi Order. He made his way through the building to the massive courtyard where he began to run. It was only a five-minute run to the gym, but it was enough to get him warmed up.
He slowed to a walk and opened the door to the gym. He scanned his ID at the entrance and walked through the turn-style. He walked through the lobby and went straight to the functional fitness room in the gym. After making his way through the hallway, he entered the room he was looking for. To his gratification, it was empty. He stretched his arms and back before he jumped up on a pull-up bar.
Grasping the bar with an over hand grip, Mit'teem pulled his chin up to the bar again and again. He pulled his body weight with only the use of his muscles. There was no aid of the Force. It was just him…and it felt good. He strained with the last as he gritted his teeth and reached his chin over the bar. Thirty-one. He slowly lowered himself down until his arms were locked out, and he dropped off the bar.
He was not going to lose the strength he had gained waging the war against the Separatists. While he was no longer part of the Grand Army of the Republic, he was plotting a way forward. He was a civilian. He no longer was able to fight, and he was no longer able to use the Force.
His Master…his former master…had made it clear to him that if he would use the Force, he would be brought up on charges and prosecuted by the Jedi Order.
He lifted his right elbow over his head and grabbed it with his left hand and began stretching is side muscle. Force or not, thirty-one pull ups was no small feat. It begged cramps! He was three months into studying the science of astrophysics. Nothing like a Jedi Master, but he understood the Force well for his age. Now, he wanted to learn about the physics of the universe. His education in the Force was more on feeling and navigating an internal urge. Now, since he was closed to that, he was interested in to how the universe could be quantified and analytically understood.
He moved over to a cable machine and sat on its bench and set the weight to ninety-kilograms. He put his feet on foot pads, grabbed the hand grips, straightened his back, and began pulling his elbows behind his back. He repeated this twelve times as he thought about his academics. His political science professor was an interesting one. She seemed to sway between pro Republic and pro Separatists as if she were reading a script. After he did this five times steadily increasing the weight, he wondered where she would rest when the war ended.
He stepped off the bench and walked to the cardio vascular room and get his ID card and towel down along the wall. He approached a hanging punching back and began a punching routine Plo Koon had taught him years ago. He hit the bag over and over again striking it with this fists and elbows. His aggression grew. He clenched his jaw and bared his teeth and he struck harder.
How could they? Without a warning. Without an ounce of correction. Without a mention of anything…they kicked him out? He tore the bag with an elbow strike. They shunned him? He creased the bag in half with a punch. They stole the past decade of his life?! They didn't even try to correct him! Where was the mentorship they espoused so greatly?! The hate filled him, and he swung hard.
He punched the bag right off its mount. He staggered forward as his fist carried him forward. The bag hit the ground and slid across the floor and sprayed sand across the wood planks.
He stood up straight and breathed deeply, catching his breath. He clenched his fists tight, flaring the cord-like muscles in his forearms. Then…he pushed the frustration back and down.
Regardless. He was done with that. It was gone. It was away. He could not go back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was only forward. He stared at the ruptured bag. That's no good. That one might get him barred from the gym.
"Hey, man!" a voice echoed through the room. Mit'teem looked over toward the voice in the door. He saw a man under two meters tall and gray skin. He has bright yellow irises in this eyes and long purple hair. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and leaned his muscular build against the door frame. "You okay?" the stranger asked. Mit'teem closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath.
"Yeah, thanks." He looked up with a smile. "Just have things on my mind, you know."
"Mid-terms?" the guy asked. Mit'teem rolled his eyes and nodded.
"Mid-terms."
"You look like you have pretty good game. You mind if I spar with you?" The injustice of the Jedi Council drained away. The man walked toward him and extended his hand. "My name is Dramin." Mit'teem outstretched his hand to meet this stranger's. They didn't meet each other's hands, instead they met each other's forearms. That told Mit'teem that this guy was serious.
"My name is Mit'teem."
They locked eyes.
"Good to meet you, Mit'eem," Dramin said with confidence.
Mit'teem smiled.
"Good," Mit'teem said. "It's good to meet you."
The two of them held their locked eyes.
"Do your eyes glow?" Dramin asked. Mit'teem smiled.
"It seems so. Yours?"
"They do," Dramin said with a smile. They both released their grip and stood up. "What art do you practice? I am interested in what you're doing. You just punched that bag right off its mount. It looks pretty effective."
"Thanks," Mit'teem said, "I fought when the Separatist Army came to my world. Droids are tough."
Dramin looked with interest.
"No kidding?" Dramin said. "I didn't fight in the war but my world suffered the rule of a dictator. The government sided with the Separatists. Then the clone army arrived and drove the Separatists from my planet. Then our government changed. What did you do?"
"Sounds like the same as you. The war came to my world. Then the Grand Army of the Republic came." He walked a little as he thought and then looked back at Dramin. "They recruited us and trained us to defend our world. The clones gave us training I never expected." He waved his hand. "But they liberated us, and I was afforded a scholarship here. I put down the blaster rifle, and picked up a book," he said with a smile. "Now I'm learning about astrophysics."
"That's awesome," Dramin said. "Are all of your people like you?" Dramin asked. Mit'teem shook his head.
"No. I was adopted," Mit'teem laughed. "They called me the blue wonder. It's a long story," he said dismissively. "You?"
"Yes. Grey skin, yellow eyes, purple hair, funny tattoos. I'm sure you know. It's a little difficult to get a fair shake around this place."
"Yeah," Mit'teem said. "We just have to outperform." He decided to change the subject and tipped his head up in an inquisitive gesture. "What's your athletic history?"
Dramin laughed.
"Oh, you know. Sports. Gymnastics," he paused, "and a little fighting."
Mit'teem frowned and nodded his head.
"Good. You asked to spar. What do you have in mind?"
Dramin looked at the heavy bag laying on the ground.
"Let's go about," he paused, "forty percent."
"Okay, forty—" before Mit'teem could finish his sentence, this new comer had already speared him, jumping at him and catching him in the hip with his right shoulder. The two slammed down on the pads hard, and Dramin mounted Mit'teem.
He was careful not to use the Force. Mit'teem crossed his hands at the wrists and shot his left arm right across his chest, twisting his torso. He hooked his elbow around his opponent's rib cage and twisted them both to the left. Mit'teem torqued him to his left and slammed Dramin onto his back brining Mit'teem on top. With speed, Mit'teem controlled Dramin's wrists with his right hand and pressed all of this weight across Dramin's neck with his left forearm.
Before Dramin knew it, his neck was being crushed by the blue creature.
"Is forty percent good for you?" Mit'teem asked. Dramin laughed.
"Yeah!" he said with a grunt. "Forty percent is good."
Mit'teem relieved the pressure and stood. He helped Dramin up.
"Now, a double leg take-down is pretty novice. Do you have a standing game?" Mit'teem looked at Dramin's bright yellow eyes.
"I might." Dramin took a formed stance, and Mit'teem stood squared up to him. Dramin threw a series of punches at him. In a combination of dodges and blocks, Mit'teem kept him at bay. They traded a few blows, then then Dramin jumped and spun a mid-air roundhouse kick at Mit'teem.
This was the opening Mit'teem was looking for. He ducked and let Dramin's leg fly over his head. As Mit'teem stood up, he stepped half a step forward and crossed his wrists as he reached toward Dramin. As Dramin landed his foot, Mit'teem closed the distance. With crossed wrists and a left leg forward, he grabbed Dramin's forehead with this left hand and put his right hand on Dramin's right shoulder. He twisted his torso to the left and pivoted Dramin over his left thigh, throwing Dramin's back onto his left thigh and him off balance. Shocked, Dramin was bent upside down over Mit'teem's left leg barely able to keep himself from falling limp. His feet stuttered to keep his hips up. Struggling to keep from falling, Dramin breathed is staggered breaths.
"Hmmm," Mit'teem said looking down at his challenger's neck bent over his leg and completely exposed. Dramin could tell he had lost in the worst way. This was a kill position. Vvulnerable, Mit'teem thumped Dramin's exposed adams apple earning a grunt from him. Mit'teem patted the base of Dramin's neck twice. "I think that's enough for today," and let Dramin roll over onto the mat and regain his balance. He stood up straight and studied Mit'teem with a confused look.
"That was a kill shot," Dramin said. Mit'teem nodded slightly. "How long have you been training?"
"A long time," Mit'teem said. There was a pause as he formulated what species Dramin was. "Your home planet suffered from a civil war, and you know how to fight like that. You're a Kage, aren't you?"
Dramin smiled and nodded slightly in respect.
"I am."
Mit'teem smiled.
"That's why you're so good. I've heard stories about your people." There was a long pause between them. Mit'teem checked his wrist chrono. He grabbed the heavy bag and dragged it to the corner. "There aren't very many of us here, especially at this school," Mit'teem said as he sat the heavy bag in the corner.
"Aliens?" Dramin clarified.
"Of course," Mit'teem said. Then he closed with Dramin and extended his arm with a smile. The two clasps forearms. "I think we both have to get ready for class."
"We have a fighting group here on campus," Dramin said. "I think you would make a real contribution if you'd like to try it out."
Mit'teem nodded.
"Thank you. I will give it some thought, Kage Warrior." They shared a look at spoke volumes. Mit'teem could tell that Dramin had indeed fought in the war…or some war that is. They nodded and parted ways.
"It's good to meet you, Mit'teem."
He wasn't as alone out here as he thought.
