I apologize for yet another long delay and for only a brief segment of a chapter. I've seriously run into a writer's block. The worst part is that I actually have a lot of content lined up and now find the quality of the work is absolutely terrible. I genuinely seek to get some good action scenes coming up, but just haven't had the inspiration to finish anything. I've been considering skipping what would have accounted for three or four chapters and just get Yuthura off RS-159. I'm just not getting this done and don't want to keep this story hanging indefinitely.

I've also been busy with a few other works in progress, but I'm afraid that even those aren't coming out very quickly. And now that I've got other responsibilities to worry about, I really can't make any promises for the future. But I will try my best to keep this going. Thanks for those who take the time to read and review.

Relief

I had formed a good relationship with the mechanics. Although Natasha remained acting as chief, I had been the nucleus of the repair efforts. There were only a few components that remained to be set by the deadline we had been given. Natasha had us put in another hour so that we could replace an engine, a laser cannon, an airfoil, and a few hull plates. The shield generators on two of the ships were intact, but they wouldn't last much more than a few minutes before burning out.

By sunset that evening, all the major components were set in place; my job was done. None of the fighters were operational, but the major hardware was pretty much set. It was in the software that a long series of tests needed to be completed before any test flights could be attempted. I really had wanted to work on bringing the systems online, but was simply too exhausted by that point. RS-159 rotation periods were short, but they felt just as long as regular 24-hour days. What seemed like four days really was only a day and a half.

I had really dreaded taking a student along while I had duties to perform, but found Ross kept busy while on his own. After Natasha let me off the hook, I felt obligated to give him at least half an hour before I went to bed. When I found him, Ross and a repair team were scrapping components from a discarded Sith tank. They appeared to be reinforcing the station's defense perimeter with whatever they could take from the wreckage of enemy vehicles.

Ross probably was the youngest one among the station's personnel, yet he seemed to take issue with being directed by more senior mechanics. He reluctantly did as he was told, but only after the team leader reminded him of who was in command. He used the Force to lift several components, which included laser cannons, explosive rounds, and armour plating, and carefully loaded them onto one of the trailers.

The total salvage from that tank probably only weighed in at half a ton, but loading it still would have taken several minutes by hand. With the Force, the task could be done in only seconds. It was something of a sad reminder of just how weak flesh really was when it came to physical labor. At least we Jedi offered a better substitute than using people as machines.

The vehicles which carried supplies and equipment were called mules. Only a few of the small tractors remained in working condition, but the Akagi transferred half a dozen among the supplies. Although mules lacked the 'pride' of heavy artillery, such support vehicles actually proved to be the most valuable in times like that. Each one pulled at least three fully-loaded trailer cars, meeting the demands placed upon them. Although they could easily pull ten times their own weight and up to a dozen cars, the terrain was unfavorable for such configurations. They didn't hover, which was why they rarely broke down. The drawback was that they needed relatively flat terrain for best performance.

When Ross finally got those components loaded, he signaled the mule driver to take it away. His robe was filthy and his skin glistened in the sunlight from the heat. He wiped his hand across his brow, smearing sweat and engine grease in messy streaks across his forehead. He rubbed off as much grease as he could with the sweat accumulated on his hands, and rubbed it on the lower piece of his robe. It seemed as good a time as any to interrupt what he was doing. "How's it hanging, kid?"

He seemed visibly irritated. Aside from the harsh environment we were forced to work in, it was something else that left him bitter. "Can you believe these guys? We're here to help them and do they so much as consider hearing our ideas? No... they just boss us around and tell us what to do."

Ross obviously needed a little help in learning proper respect, but I wanted to make it very subtle. "Ross, these guys have been here a lot longer than we have. They know a lot more about these things than we do, so we should just respect their judgment and help them in any way we can."

He gestured to the tank he had been working on. "That's what I tried to do. This vehicle's drive track is damaged, but it could easily be replaced and made fully operational... they decided to scrap it instead. I mean... we have so few pieces of artillery as it is! How do they expect to repel another attack when we're outnumbered?"

"Ross, these people are more eager than anyone to get out of here alive. You really should just do as they ask and try not to take offense if they don't heed to your advice."

"But we're Jedi. Why wouldn't they be interested in hearing the advice we have to offer? We're not just here for our lightsabers. And the kind of work they're having us do is better suited for droids. Why are we here at all?"

I put my arm over his shoulder and gestured him to walk with me. I didn't exactly have a place in mind for us to go, but it at least made our little talk more casual than normal. "We're here to assist them in any way we can. I'm sure that they appreciate our opinions, but you need to respect their authority on these matters. If they need advice, they'll ask for it. Otherwise the best thing is to just do as they ask."

"I would rather be repairing these things. I mean... I've got more experience with these kind of vehicles than Belaya, yet she's the one doing the repair work while I'm out here sorting through trash. Anyone could do salvage work. Why am I...?" The boy quickly came to realize how unprofessional he looked by complaining and then restrained himself. "I'm sorry. I just really wished that they could give me something like what you're doing with those fighters."

"Actually, I've been doing just about the same things that you have. Heavy lifting, following orders, and often just standing around for long periods until they needed me. I would've rather been taking a greater role in the repairs, but they needed someone to hold the heavy pieces in place while they fastened them together. Nothing exciting."

He scoffed and waved his hand at a pile of debris that looked more like garbage than wreckage. "Beats this. At least you're putting stuff together. We're just pulling the guts out of these old pieces of junk the Sith put together. It probably wasn't worth its weight to begin with, but now we're being forced to use them... or take whatever we can from the wreckage. At least their cannons are worth taking."

"I was told that they mounting some big guns on battle droids. Maybe they can use some help with that."

"Their mounting weapons just about everywhere. Pretty much everything they're building are makeshift fortifications with whatever is available. They're mounting big guns meant for artillery and mounting them on turrets with the hope they can take out at least one enemy tank before they're destroyed. I'd asked Master Vash if I could help, but she says that this is more important for me to do. If it's so important, then why am I the only Jedi out here?"

I just sighed and nodded. I really wasn't in the mood for talking, so I just remained silent. Maybe it would have been better for me to remain stoic, but I was too tired to notice. When you put someone under a tight timeline to complete an enormous task, she'd be spent by the end.

Ross took notice. "You look almost as bad as I feel."

Now that he mentioned it, I did feel quite terrible. It had been a long night for everyone, but it was probably downing foods one wasn't meant to live on which made me sick. Our repair schedule was so tight that we just ate while on the job. It wasn't until that point when I realized how much I'd eaten.

Despite the real reason, I gave a completely different explanation for why I looked so bad. Maybe it was just too embarrassing for me to suggest I simply ate too much junk and got sick like a child. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep since we landed on this rock. I hope you've had better luck with that than I had."

"I've been given time off now and again. I've had a few hours of sleep a short while ago. I had hoped they would find some more work for me... not just scavenging for parts."

"Every little bit helps. It may not be glamorous, but it needs to be done." I explained, obviously not in the mindset to offer better advice.

"I understand that, but there's only so much that we can do for these people here. We should be taking the fight to the enemy."

That struck me as odd for any Jedi, even a padawan, to suggest. I looked at the sad state of the base's improvised fortifications, which looked more like a scrap heap than a defensive line. Then I looked in the opposite direction and marveled at how many attacks they must have endured over the months, just by the sheer volume of wreckage and corpses that littered the field. "Ross, they're barely holding the line as it is. Our best hope lies in holding off the Sith until Master Kavar's forces arrive."

He gave me a rather foul look and gestured to a group of soldiers who stood ready at their post nearby. "Master, I don't know if you realize how bad the situation is for these people. They've done well in holding this installation, but their morale is has suffered... badly. They can't just go on for however long it'll take for reinforcements to arrive; the Sith are determined to take this station. The only way they can hope to stand against another oncoming assault is if they believe they can win."

"Ross..."

"We have to do more than just helping the wounded and repairing stuff. We need to take on a more active role than what we've been doing..."

It was about then that I really began to feel sick. The queasiness only got worse, and I knew I was about to vomit. It was a disgusting feeling to know you were about to upchuck everything that went down so pleasantly, and I was eager to get it over with.

Ross turned about and tried to help me, but didn't know of my condition. "Master? Are you alright?"

Pushing him away, I leaned forward and let it all come out. Unpleasant as it was, the relief afterwards was worth it. Just to have all that partially-digested garbage out of my system felt much better. It was probably the first time since leaving the Sith that I felt terrible enough to vomit... I've had plenty of hangovers in those days, but nothing like this.

Ross was patient with me and didn't badger me with 'are you alright?' until I finally lifted my head up. Fortunately I didn't get anything on myself, so I didn't have to worry about cleaning up the mess. Softly I answered. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Hangover?"

That caught me off guard; I never told him about my drinking problems. "How did you know about that?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Ross didn't seem to find it very revolting. "Lucky guess? You seemed pretty groggy; I hope you've not been drinking on the job."

I shook my head and stood up to get away from that puddle of vomit on the ground. "I wasn't. I just got sick."

Ross didn't take that too well. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." I said, dissuasively.

"Are you sure?" he insisted.

Maybe I was just under a lot of stress, but I wasn't really in the mood to converse anymore. And after being deprived of sleep for the last two days, I lashed out. "I think I know myself better than you do! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

As I forcibly turned away from the conversation, the boy reluctantly spoke my name. "Master..." I turned about and gave him a very nasty look, as if to let him know exactly how agitated I was. If he thought I might lash at him, he'd just shut up and let me go and get some rest. Ross saw how cranky I was, but he also knew it was wrong of me to shout at him like that. "...with respect, you're the one who dragged me away from my work. I thought you wanted to talk."

It took me a moment, but I was quick to remember the whole point of why I came out there in the first place. I had taken a student under my wing and I felt it was my obligation to teach him a few things while we were on RS-159. But I desperately needed rest, which left me in no condition to teach. "I'm sorry. We haven't spent much time together since we landed on this rock. I've been neglectful of my responsibilities as a master. I just had so much to do."

"You don't have to explain... I understand. We've all got our work cut out for us. My training can wait."

Shaking my head, I took him by the shoulders to comfort his tense nerves. "That's no excuse. I owe it to you to make the time for a lesson or two... but I really need to get some sleep right now. If you like, I can bail you out here. Or can you stand playing Jawa for a while longer?"

"That would be much appreciated. That Ordo guy actually had expressed some interest in 'borrowing' a Jedi for a while. And I'd like to help him with it."

Obviously I wasn't in the right mind set, or I probably would have objected. If he was fine with it, I had no issues with letting him work with Canderous. As his master, Ross told me that I had to approve of any change in his assignment that could potentially place him in danger. I figured that he knew how to take care of himself well enough, so I didn't give it much thought. Little did I know it, but that seemingly minor decision would come to have dire consequences later.