The Outsiders, The Forgotten
Chapters 19 - 25
Chapter 19 : Training With Sticks
Wolff is having a tough time. He and Kelpa practise their stick fighting, just outside the bunker in the late afternoon sun.
Kepla's mind is focussed as he effortlessly evade Wolff's attacks, stabs and hits.
It seems to Kepla, as if Wolff is trying to make it easy for him... In reality Wolff is fighting with all his might. Kepla is just that much better than he is.
The sticks clap as they hit in midair. Then, Wolff signals Kepla to stop.
"Wha desa bein masta Wolff?" Kepla demands to know.
"You've mastered the basic technique. Very good. But you should always be mindful of other factors in a fight too..."
Wolff makes a gesture.
Kepla is thrown backwards. He falls back and lands on the palms of his hands. He jumps to his feet and demands to know, "Bombad! How yous be doin dat?"
"You do it by focussing on the subject... It's almost like lifting something using the force, except for one little difference."
Kepla dusts his hands and enquires, "Wha bein dat?"
Wolff explains, "A being is capable of resisting the force... up to a point. You have to surpass that point to be able to throw him... Come on... try to throw me!"
Kepla frowns, but obeys. He concentrates hard, but nothing happens.
"You see Kepla, I can resist your throwing me when I'm concentrating... Now, try again, this time during combat."
Kepla and Wolff pick up a moderate stick fight.
After a couple of moments Kepla makes a gesture and Wolff is thrown off of his feet, quite vigorously. He lands on his backside in the red dust.
Wolff rises, smiling, "You see Kepla, when we are standing still, I am stronger with the force than you are, because of my experience... When we fight, I have to focus my concentration on the fight, it makes me susceptible to influence."
Kepla nods in understanding, "My see."
Wolff continues, "Remember this, my padowan... When you're mind is preoccupied, you are much more susceptible to influence than otherwise. Keep this in mind when you are in a fight. Stay as calm as possible."
He takes a breath, "The same goes for emotion too, the more emotional you get, the more susceptible you are to influence... Emotion is good and necessary, but you should be careful of where and when."
Kepla nods in understanding, "Desa berry interesting!"
Wolff pats the dust off of his uniform as he continues, "That is all for today... You've learnt a lot. Let's go inside and have supper."
Kepla follows Wolff indoors.
Chapter 20 : Last Time At The Shooting Range
One of the main pastimes on Akrillia apart from drag racing, is shooting with long rifles. A conservative estimate is that every second person has more than two guns in his possession.
Wolff is the only one still using chemically propelled projectile weapons. The other use either blaster- or electro magnetic propulsion weapons.
He always caused a big scene when we came to shoot with the other. The other could never comprehend his weapons' simplicity, but they appreciate the immense dropping power, none the less.
Except for his prize shotgun, Wolff had salvaged several arms from junk dealers around the solar system. He restored the rifles with the care and perfection he could manage.
The R1 automatic rifle had replaced his four gauge as his main weapon of combat when he is out on his missions.
The rifle is almost identical to the one he had in the EDF army. He often wonders about where the junk dealer had gotten it... Wolff would sometimes reach the point where he thought that, maybe, somehow, some of his people are still alive... Usually at that stage, he would fall hardly back to reality, shake is head, sigh and carry on with his work.
Wolff used to shoot a lot, but the financial crisis had brought this to an end too. He now only shoots on special occasions and when he trains Kepla.
Wolff now only visits the range on some weekdays, since he doesn't want the people to see his gungan apprentice.
***
He and Kepla stand under a flimsy steel roof, a hundred metres away from a row of unmatched steel cans.
A barren dry landscape surrounds the shooting range. The two jogged here, carrying the rifles on their backs.
Wolff takes the small rifle out of Kepla's sweaty hands and loads five more rounds into it. He hands the rifle back to Kepla, saying, "This is your last five shots... See if you can hit the second one from the right."
Kepla lies down, the rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder. He squints as he takes a careful aim. A shot bursts out. A can topples as the small bullet penetrates.
Kepla looks up.
Wolff nods.
Kepla reloads and the spent cartridge flies from the smoking chamber.
He takes an aim and quickly discharges the four remaining rounds into the can as well. "Ding! Dint! Denk! Pew," the battered can flips and rolls from the stinging bullets hitting it.
Kepla is very pleased with himself. This had been a good day for him... He had only missed seven shots.
Wolff takes the small rifle from Kepla and places it on the ground next to him. Kepla stands up, dusting his uniform.
Wolff smiles sinisterly as he loads a shell into his four gauge and takes a standing aim. Kepla cups his hands over his haillu.
The deep thunder of the four gauge tears across the landscape. A large 100 litre oil drum is blast to ribbons and flies backwards over.
Kepla peers enviously. Wolff is tough built. He can handle that kind of power. The four gauge would sever Kepla's shoulder if he tried firing it.
Wolff breaks open the four gauge. He sighs as he pulls out an expired shell rim and the shred cardboard casing from the right barrel. "That's his last shot..." Wolff agonises as he throws the smoking cartridge onto the ground.
Wolff puts down the shotgun and takes his automatic rifle. His capable hands quickly grasp a clip of ammunition from his belt and he hooks it into the rifle's gaping chamber. He pulls back the lever.
He pauses, steels a look at Kepla and burns loose on another oil drum. The drum dents as it is perforated by the mighty rifle. Dust puffs up from around the target as two stray bullet bleat and ricochet off into the sky.
Kepla watches in admiration. He would never touch that monster gun in his life. Then, A question pops into his head.
He asks inquisitively, "If yous be havin desa bombad wepons, why yousa be fightin wi dat cato sabre?"
Wolff explains, "A rifle is just a weapon. It's a fact of life, any fool can pull a trigger and hope to hit something. The sabre is the weapon of the jedi. It's much more than just a weapon, it's a tool. A tool of combat, a tool of the force."
Kepla doesn't understand, he asks, "Ba why yousan still be usin desan wepons den?"
"I was properly trained to use them, Kepla. As I said, I've used this kind of weapon for the best part of my life. It kind of grows on one... Just because I'm a being of the force, doesn't mean that I cannot rely on the laws of physics from time to time."
He continues, "I've taken good care of these rifles, still, everything has a time and a place."
Wolff sighs, "My ammunition supply is slowly drying up and the explosive powders are becoming harder to get every day. Some day, these rifles will be little more than memories of an era past."
He ads, "When you become a jedi, you will not be taking anything of the kind with you... True jedi aren't allowed to use ranged weapons."
Kelpa nods.
Wolff remove the locks out of the guns and pack them into his bag.
Wolff praises Kepla, "Oh, and I have to congratulate you. Your aiming has improved dramatically. I'm proud of you. Despite your dislike of these weapons, you kept on trying. You are busy reaping the rewards."
Kepla feels flattered, "Tankyousan, Masta Wolffe."
The two take on the sturdy jog home. The sun is blazing down now. This makes Kepla very glad about the sun-screen he has on.
The two figures progress slowly up the rocky mountainside until they reach Wolff's bunker, just in time for lunch.
***
Wolff spent the rest of the day working in his garage. He didn't want the gungan to see what he was doing there and told him to stay in the bunker. Kepla's curiosity nearly had him insane, but he obeyed his masters request and stayed indoors for the rest of the day.
Chapter 21 : Reloading
Wolff sits at his small reloading table in his garage. He stares haplessly at the spent .308 cartridges in the plastic bowl. They have been reloaded many times before, many more times than they had been supposed to.
He agonises as he throws five of the ten into a trash can, "Now, where on Kati...huu...Akrillia will I be able to buy more of these..!?"
Wolff sighs despondently.
"Oh well, at least I have my sabre," Wolff tries to uplift himself as he slips on his goggles.
He carefully weighs off five loads of propellent. With great care, he pours the powder into the cases.
He presses on the bullet's tips.
He continues doing this until he had reloaded all his whole cartridges. He now has fifty two in all.
His shot shells are at an absolute premium. He has only got ten left. All of which had been re-loaded more than seven times over.
Wolff pities himself, "Now, this is what happens if you insist on sticking with the technology that you trust and know!"
He takes off the goggles and stretches himself. He yawns.
Then, he smiles slyly as he takes an oblong object from his drawer. He leaves the garage for the bunker.
Chapter 22 : The Gift
Kepla sits on his bed, deeply meditating... His mind is in perfect harmony... His muscular gungan body focussed in perfect concentration. The dim light above him casts eree shadows on his for forhead.
Kepla's lips move, as if he is saying something. He senses something is about to happen. He leaps up, just as Wolff enters the room.
Wolff smiles, "You're sense of perception is outstanding... I'm impressed."
Kepla asks, "Masta Wolff, yous wants to spake to mesa?"
Wolff takes the oblong object out of his pocket and throws it at Kepla. He nimbly catches it in midair. His eyes widen as he realises what it is.
"Is desa dein mesa cato sabre thingy?" he asks excitedly.
Wolff replies calmly, "That is your sabre, Kepla. It's the weapon of the jedi."
This makes Kepla feel warm inside. Finally, his master trusts him with his own weapon. About time too! Kepla had been fighting with sticks for the last three years of his life.
He takes the sabre in his right hand and squeeze the switch. It ignites with a hiss. A white beam arcs outward, casting a long solid beam of energy. The glowing splendour fills the room and the heart of the young gungan. He waves it around in delight.
The beam bends slightly as he waves it near the steel frame of his bed. He shuts it off. Wolff looks at him, swelling with pride.
"Thankyous Wolff, desa be mening a yot to my..."
Wolff promptly gives him a small lecture, "The weapon you are holding is your weapon of the force... Use it to serve the good cause of the jedi and you will never fall at the hands of evil. Never use it for your own gain, never use it as a tool of punishment."
Wolff takes a breath, "Use it wisely and with discretion... May the force guide you in this, for your training here is almost at an end..."
Chapter 23 : Sabre Confrontation
Padowan and master stand facing each other under the fading evening sky. Their faces serious, their eyes squinted. They seem unaware of the cold wind blowing and their jackets flapping relentlessly in the wind.
This time round, there are no sticks. What used to be a painful hit, has now become a fatal stab... They prepare to battle with real sabres.
Wolff breathes deeply as he stares coldly at Kepla, with an expression of aggression on his face. Kepla is unmoved by this and stares ahead without expression.
They brace as one. Two cathode sabres ignite and they engage each other aggressively.
There is a mighty flash as the two sabres hit in midair. There is a loud crackling as Wolff presses on hard. Kepla bites his teeth as he resists the push.
Wolff throws Kepla backwards using his brute strength. The agile Kepla falls back but retains his balance.
Again the sabres meet. This time Wolff fights aggressively, dashing forward and stabbing at Kepla's unprotected stomach. The gungan evades Wolff's attacks with precision and care, but doesn't strike back.
The fighting is furious. Bright flashes of light periodically spark as the two sabres clash in midair.
Wolff makes a gesture with his right hand. Kepla squints and resists the throw. This makes him open for attack. Wolff's sabre swoops through the air. Kepla gets a cold shock as he blocks.
"Wolffe's tryin to kill my!" Kepla secretly agonises inside his mind. He cannot dare loose his concentration now... He is fighting a being of the force. Losing one's concentration usually means losing one's life.
Kepla tries his best to stay calm and controlled throughout. There is a break in the attack and the two stand staring at each other, sabres crackling away at their chests. Wolff is sweating and breathing hard.
Kepla's face is slightly worried, almost begging Wolff to stop this lunacy.
The two fighters engage aggressively once again. Kepla makes a gesture, throwing Wolff off of his feet, having him land on the cold, hard soil they are fighting on. He fakes injury, but Kepla doesn't rush to help him. The force tells Kepla that it is a delusion.
Kepla stands patiently await as Wolff rises, peering angrily as he re-ignites his sabre.
Again the two beings of the force engage in furious battle. Kepla feels a knob building in his throat. Wolff is indeed trying to kill him! His master and friend he loves so dearly is trying to kill him!
With this realisation, Kepla focusses all his energy and throws Wolff. This time mercilessly, sparing all pleasantries. Wolff hickups as he is thrown off of his feet and hit the hard soil. His sabre falls from his hands and he is genuinely hurt.
Kepla swiftly approaches Wolff with his blazing sabre. Wolff quickly sits up, with a scared expression on his face. He lifts his left hand upon high, in line with Kepla's blazing sabre. He is begging for mercy.
Seeing this, Kepla's serious face turns sad. He kills his sabre and stands pitying, angrily.
Wolff's breath is racing. He has badly hurt at his ankle in the fall.
"Ey!!! Whatsay yous doing dere! Yousa getn my killed!" Kepla demands to know.
Kepla bites his lip and agonises, "Mysan almost killen yousan! Bombad! Yousa be losin it?!"
Kepla throws his arms into the air as he continues, "My toght wesa come ear to practice... No! Wesan trying to keel eacatha!"
Wolff seems to ignore Keplas complaining and moans, "I'm hurt Kepla... please help me inside."
Kepla hesistates, no quite at ease with Wolff's sudden change in heart. But he eventually concedes.
Kepla's strong right arm lifts Wolff to his feet.
Wolff limps.
He walks, staggering, slowly along, held upright by the gungan. He bites his teeth to suppress the pain, as he is taken indoors, and to his room. Kepla lets him sit down on his bed and then leaves to go and fetch the dropped sabre.
***
Wolff hears the front door close.
A few minutes later, Kepla enters his small room, sulking. He drops Wolff's sabre down onto the table in front of his bed.
Wolff lays with a white bandage he tied around his ankle. He is tired, but smiles meekly as Kepla sits down in a chair aside his bed.
Wolff speaks out, "Thanks for your help..."
Kepla is still angry and confused, "Masta Wolffe, yous be tellin my... how."
Wolff continues, "I've never seen anyone fight the way you did back there. You fought with your whole mind, your whole body, your whole self."
Kepla looks up from the bandage. His cyan eyes are sad, still longing for a reasonable explanation. Wolff sees this and apologises, "I'm terribly sorry to have put you through that. I feel very bad. I could see into your heart, you truly believed that I was out to kill you back there."
Kepla admits, "My being berry sacred, but mysan be supressin mysa fears. Like yousan tellin."
"You make me proud my padowan. You not only demonstrated your skills in fighting, but also kept your emotion well out of the fight... That lead you to victory."
Kepla feels better at hearing this. Seems that his earlier fears had been irrational and nonsensical. He then feels bad about it, and readily apologises, "My berry sorry for letn yousan get ouchie..."
Wolff shakes his head, lifting both of his hands, "No, please don't apologise. I'm the one who should be apologising. What I did to you was far more painful."
He sighs and promises, confidently, "I promise, Kepla, I will NEVER put you through such an exercise again."
Kepla smiles as he hears Wolff's warming words.
"Don't worry about me now, Kepla. I'll feel better in the morning."
Wolff ads, as an afterthought, "You can go now, if you like."
Kepla doesn't get up. He much prefers sitting down aside Wolff's bed. In the past two minutes, he has acquired newfound respect for his strange master. He feels warm and safe at his bedside.
***
Wolff sat reading, several hours into the dark windy night. Kepla eventually fell asleep in the chair after sitting for too long. For although Kepla found victory, the fight had tired him out.
Wolff sighs as he takes a last longing look at Kepla, before killing the light. He troublesomely covers himself in sheets and sighs, "Yea. That's life. Good night Kepla Rass, my padowan."
A few moments of total silence and darkness pass and then Wolff seems to ask the dark, "How will I break the news to him... What will his reaction be!"
Indeed. The time for Kepla to leave Akrillia has arrived. After tonight's fight, Wolff is convinced of what he had been suspecting for quite some time now... He cannot teach Kepla anything more than he already knows... Kepla now needs the guidance of a true jedi, to complete his training.
He sighs.
Kepla's snoring doesn't bother him and he quickly finds his own rest.
Chapter 24 : The Truth
Two jogging figures move up to winding path up on Signal Hill. Their dark silhoettes are highlighted by the setting sun.
Four long years had passed since Kepla started his training. He had grown from a frail gungan to a strong padowan, skilled in the use of the sabre and strong in the ways of the force. He runs up straight, like a soldier : his brown uniform folds comfortably around his sweaty body.
His green skin glistens. His haillu tied to his back, the cloth pocket hopping up and down as he leads Wolff up the hill.
Wolff lags behind. He is now almost fifty years old and this is showing. He has had a long and active life. Been a soldier, he has fought in many great wars and seen much death. He has been a nomad and has traversed two giant solar systems. He fought in an epic war... has become a warrior of the force and has trained his apprentice, Kepla Rass, to the point of being his own superior.
At the top of the hill, Kepla comes to a standstill. His breath barely rushing. Wolff stops behind him a few moments later.
Kepla asks deeply concerned, "Masta Wolff? Yous being okey-de? My be sensing dersa somethin makin yous feel berry sad today."
Wolff answers calmly, "Not sad, Kepla... But your feelings are correct... I'm not feeling as good as I would like to."
"Wesa spake bout dat?"
"Kepla, it's been almost four long years of training... Though it felt like a lot less."
Kepla feels gravely concerned, he has never heard his master speaking in such a tone before, "Wolffe?"
"I've trained you to the best of my ability... And it's with great admiration that I admit, you are my superior, both mentally and physically. The only thing that stands between you and being a true jedi, is a few months official training and a couple of tests..." Wolff pauses and smiles meekly, "Neither of which will pose a challenge to you."
Kepla feels honoured, but still has a bad feeling about Wolff's temperament. He sighs, and turns towards the cliff edge.
The two gaze out over the horizon. It is the exact same sight that greeted them so many years ago when they went on their first jog. Akrillia has changed little... true, old Epsilon has died of age, but the same small town still stands amidst the same red hills... The same lone railway train runs to and from town every day. The same lonely bunker stands on the same barren platau.
A chilling breeze is blowing and sand whips their backs. Wolff speaks again, "Kepla, the time has come for you to go your own way. You have to embrace your destiny some time very soon..."
Kepla didn't really expected Wolff to say something like this. It makes him feel utterly insecure. He sais, asking, "Yous sayin my be leavin? Bombad! Wha my be doin without yous?!"
Wolff's gut wrenches as he readily admits, "Akrillia has no more to offer you, Kepla."
Kepla pleats, "Ba wesa be goin togetha!"
Wolff smiles longingly, "For a while Kepla. I shall stay with you until you are ready to go on your own." he sighs, "I am getting old Kepla... I am okay for the time being, but I cannot stay with you forever."
Kepla frowns, "Yousa being no more dan fifty! How yous be tinkin of retirin!"
Wolff understands this gesture. Gungans can get up to two hundred years in age... Humans don't. Wolff's race, especially, isn't known for their longievity. They usually live no more than seventy five.
"My race doesn't live that long, Kepla. You gungans have been blessed with long fruitful lives. We recidians live short hectic lives. It's just the way it is."
Wolff ads, almost bluntly, "Blame evolution if you like."
Kepla didn't know what Wolff had just told him. This saddens him dearly.
Wolff had been a father and a teacher for the best part of his life... The idea of going on without him is inconceivable. He drops his head in grief.
Wolff places his left hand on Kepla's right shoulder, trying to cheer him up.
Kepla, going against all military law, gets very emotional at times. This had been one thing Wolff could easily, but wouldn't take away from him. Wolff had suffered enough, not being able to express his own emotions in times of sorrow.
Whenever Kepla felt sad or cried, Wolff watched sympathetically. He had taught the young one to work negative emotion out of his system with meditation and rationalisation, rather than suppression and rage.
"My be..." Kepla starts, but stops and shakes his head.
The sun had almost gone down now.
The two jog back without speaking a word. They reach the front door just before darkness engulfs the landscape.
***
Kepla didn't want to eat that night. Wolff felt guilty, almost responsible, for Kepla's grief. Still, he knew that he had no choice. He had to tell him. One way or the other.
Kepla went to bed early. At the first light of day, they would pack his bags and take the sturdy jog down to the airfield, to fetch the Javelin.
Chapter 25 : Departure
The flying field is particularly busy today. Small craft take off and land at leisure. Large tanker ships stand docked at the fuelling point, taking Akrillia's precious fuel to sell on other planets in the system.
Though sad, Kepla stares in awe. This had been the first time Wolff had brought him to the flying field on a weekday.
Today, it doesn't matter of the other see him. To them, Kepla might just as well be day visitor, somebody lonely enough to come and visit ol' Hermit Eghbar on the barren plateau behind the 'first hill.
Wolff and Kepla often came here on weekends to practice his flying. Wolff knew, that if something had to happen to him, Kepla would need to be able to fly this flagship of his people's ingenuity, the Javelin. Wolff trained Kepla accordingly.
The two enter the barracks where Javelin stands stationary, ready for takeoff.
Wolff had fled his home planet in one of these, shortly before his people died in a terrifying storm of fire and radiation. This happened more than twenty six years ago.
Wolff was very proud of his craft and kept it cleaned and fuelled. It provided him with transport for the many years he had been a nomad... until it was shot down and destroyed by the Trade Federation over Naboo, on that fateful day that changed his life forever.
After the battle of Naboo, Wolff successfully sued the Trade Federation for compensation. He used this money to have his Javelin rebuilt, down to the last exacting detail. The Naboo Aerospace Corporation found building this boxy craft a breeze, to such an extent that Wolff could retire with the remaining credits. They added a hyper-drive and touches of chrome to the tail wings, as a token of gratitude in him helping them fight in the great battle.
Kepla helps Wolff get into the cockpit, before he jumps in himself. He shuts the space locks and takes a seat.
"Would you like to fly, Kepla?" Wolff asks, offering Kepla the pilot's seat.
Kepla turns down this offer, "My no be feelin so goot... Yous go ahed..."
Wolff nods understandingly, and takes a seat. After putting on his seatbelts, he flicks the many toggle switches needed for takeoff.
The Javelin is an ancient craft, missing many of the finer touches seen as standard on modern craft. For one thing, it doesn't have a visual comm link. People communicating with Wolff often find a, "No Visual Carrier Detected" message plastered on their fancy holographic displays; often to their intense frustration.
The Javelin is one of the last space craft to use the ultra-high-energy liquid fuel dehethrium, making it incredibly powerful and fast, but also very vulnerable to attack. In offense, the Javelin is equipped with twin discharge cannons and two EM chainguns, no blasters whatsoever. Blasters require a different kind of engine and a different kind of pilot, one willing to aim.
The engines roar as the Javelin leaves to the barracks and lifts off into the air. Wolff flies lowly, so that Kepla can take a last look at Akrillia.
The young gungan looks, longingly, down over the wing as Akrillia's red soil and rocky mountains roll by beneath them.
Minutes later, they land close to Wolff's bunker.
It is a sombre day for Kepla. This is the last time in a long time that he was to see the lonely bunker that has been his home for the last four years. He sighs deeply as he loads his rugged bags into the craft's baggage compartment.
Wolff had packed him several tough uniforms, as well as a couple of odd little things... Like a pot of sun screen, a piece of rope, a polished 4.5 mm round and a photo he had taken of Kepla when he had just arrived.
"Is that the lot?" Wolff asks.
Kepla replies sadly, "Yea... Dissan bein all... My just take one more looksee... Okey-do?"
"No problem."
Wolff sits patiently as Kepla takes a last longing walk around the bunker. He sighs, almost greeting the place, "Itsa bein nice... Maybe my be sein yousagin one day...?"
With this, Kepla climbs into the cockpit. The space locks engage as he shuts the opening.
The Javelin roars as Wolff pulls it into a steep climb... Soon, they surpass the atmosphere.
The red mining planet of Akrillia fades in the distance as Kepla stares longingly out of the back window of the cockpit, deeply wondering what lies ahead for him.