Chapter Two
"Don't want bwocolli," Criat, a normally cheerful, bouncy four-year-old pouted at Sammi.
"Well, when I was an initiate, I didn't like broccoli either, you know," Sammi began, a convincing expression on her face.
Criat tilted his head suspiciously at the teenager. "Weally?"
"Really. But Master Amila made a deal with me. She said that if I only ate one piece every time the kitchens served it, I'd still grow up big and strong. And she let me have a cookie for dessert. That's called a compromise."
"A what?"
"A compromise. When two people disagree over something, they decide on a solution that includes a little bit of both people's wishes. That's a compromise. So, in my case, I only had to eat a little bit of broccoli, and I still got cookies, but Master Amila got me to eat some vegetables. Does that sound like a fair compromise between you and me?"
"I think so," puzzled Criat, stabbing a small piece of the hated vegetable on his fork. He sniffed at it, made a face.
"Oh, and, by the way, if you hold your nose and swallow really fast you can't taste it," Sammi added with a bright grin.
In a flash, the little initiate clamped his button nose in one hand and gulped down the piece of broccoli, following it closely with almost an entire glass of milk.
He made another face. "It's still yucky."
"Yeah, but you can have a cookie now, sweetheart. I'm proud of you. That was very brave."
He smiled brightly, pleased at the praise, and Sammi moved on to the other side of the table where the little initiates were messily finishing their dinners. After Amila's frightening revelation the night before, Sammi had tried to push aside her fears and concentrate even more on the crèche and the children in it. As a blue-skinned Twi'lek girl sidled up beside the Padawan, tears on her face, Sammi pushed aside her thoughts to deal with the next crisis.
"What's wrong, Ooshla?" The teenager asked, fishing a tissue from out of one of her pockets to brush at the little girl's eyes. The girl didn't say anything, but held out her pudgy arms in the universal sign for "give me a hug." Sammi obliged, and, feeling the little one start crying into her shoulder again, whispered softly into the baby's ear.
"Can you tell me what's wrong, sweetie?"
Ooshla sniffled. "Don't want to go to bed," she whimpered. As the initiates headed to their cots for storytime and then sleep almost immediately after dinner, they often used mealtime to try and bargain for later bedtimes, but Sammi had never seen any of them cry over it before.
"Why not, honey? Is something wrong?"
"Scary people in dreams," the little Twi'lek explained.
"Oh, you've been having bad dreams," Sammi understood. "Do you want to talk about them?"
"Don't understand them. There's a gold person, and a gray person, and he looks gray 'cause he's dark, but he's pretending to be light and he talks to the gold man and makes him turn all shadowy and then the shadow man turns gold again and the gray man turns into dust and its really scary."
Instantly, Ooshla began sobbing again, leaving Sammi dizzily confused. The little Twi'lek had never shown signs of precognition or prophecy in her Force-gift, but it was highly unlikely that a dream with such strong color metaphors could be anything else. The Padawan sighed, then crouched down beside the little girl.
"Ooshla, sweetie, I think you should go and tell Master Amila about your dream. Tell her just what you told me, and then she can make it go away. All right?"
The girl nodded solemnly and ran off towards Sammi's Master, who was on the other side of the room settling a custody battle over a bright red toy speeder. Sammi saw the girl, sapphire head-tails flapping behind her, approach the motherly Master, heard a soft exchange, saw Amila's brow furrow, apparently coming to the same conclusion as her Padawan had, and watched as Amila drew her gentle hand over Ooshla's temples and focused the Force on the little girl, soothing away her nightmare and her short-term memory of the dream. For that night, at least, the child would not be haunted.
That evening, Sammi met Regan and Ray in her suite as she had the night before. Regan's entrance was considerably more subdued than usual, and the three of them remained silent for a moment as they gathered on the couch, looking out the window to the Temple's highest spire and, beyond that, the vast expanse of city, glittering with brilliant lights. They reflected, each lost in their own thoughts, on what the future held in store for them, then simlutaneously looked up at each other.
Sammi blushed sweetly as she studied Ray's face, seeing as if for the first time the sparkle in his brandy-brown eyes, the clean sheen of his caramel hair, and the warm tan of his skin. His eyes were fixed on her, so neither noticed Regan's lonely smile as she watched her two closest friends fall in love.
All three of them had been told about the Clone Wars; it was no secret in the Temple now that so many Jedi had left on missions and not returned, now that clonetroopers marched in colossal formations just outside the window.
Regan stood up and walked over to the window, deep in thought, leaving Sammi and Ray next to each other on the couch. Terrified that she was being too forward, but even more afraid to do nothing, Sammi leaned over and rested her head briefly on Ray's shoulder. He almost jumped, but then a slow, shy grin began to light up his face and he put his arm around her and began to toy with her silky hair.
The three Padawans sat in companionable silence for several moments, Sammi and Ray simply enjoying each other's company, Regan just watching, half lonely, half overjoyed to see the two people she cared about most find happiness, fearing that the time they would have left together was too short to waste.
All of a sudden, the door to the chambers burst open, and a red-eyed, human girl about Sammi's age stumbled in, sobbing hysterically.
All three Padawans jumped to their feet. "Karina, what is it?" Sammi asked.
"Sammi-I-," Karina, who had been another member of Sammi's old creche group, could barely stop crying for long enough to reply. "Master Sharra," a sob, "was on," she wept, "Geonosis." Karina had barely sobbed out the last word before a storm of hysterical tears wracked her body. Regan and Sammi, who were closer to Karina than Ray, looked at each other, then made the connection in their head and rushed to the crying girl. As Karina collapsed into Regan's shoulder, Sammi heard the door slide open, and a grim-faced Amila glided into the room, followed closely by Master Yoda. Regan gently led Karina to the couch and sat her down; Amila strode across the room to sit beside her.
"Sorry, I am, to come to you with such sad news, Padawan," Yoda began. "Fought bravely, your master did, but little consolation this brings to you."
Karina looked up, her face splotched with red and tear-streaked. She didn't speak, but listened closely to the wizened Master's words.
"Comfort I cannot bring you, Padawan. Powerful, your grief is. But fade, it will, with time." Yoda gave a mournful sigh. "Tried, Master Windu did, to bring only those Masters without Padawans to Geonosis with him, but needed, your Master Sharra was. So sorry for you, I am. Sad times, these are, and lose many more great Jedi, we will, before this war is done."
"Master," Karina started, her voice wavery and weak, "what will happen to me now?"
"Stay with your friends, you may, until another Master can be found for you. Become a Jedi, you still will, Karina."
Amila put an arm around the crying girl. "Karina, you can stay with Sammi and me for now, or with Regan and Master Sacha if you want. Things are bad, I know, but they'll get better."
"Yes, stay with your friends, you should. Comfort, they can bring you, for strong, you all must be."
"Don't want bwocolli," Criat, a normally cheerful, bouncy four-year-old pouted at Sammi.
"Well, when I was an initiate, I didn't like broccoli either, you know," Sammi began, a convincing expression on her face.
Criat tilted his head suspiciously at the teenager. "Weally?"
"Really. But Master Amila made a deal with me. She said that if I only ate one piece every time the kitchens served it, I'd still grow up big and strong. And she let me have a cookie for dessert. That's called a compromise."
"A what?"
"A compromise. When two people disagree over something, they decide on a solution that includes a little bit of both people's wishes. That's a compromise. So, in my case, I only had to eat a little bit of broccoli, and I still got cookies, but Master Amila got me to eat some vegetables. Does that sound like a fair compromise between you and me?"
"I think so," puzzled Criat, stabbing a small piece of the hated vegetable on his fork. He sniffed at it, made a face.
"Oh, and, by the way, if you hold your nose and swallow really fast you can't taste it," Sammi added with a bright grin.
In a flash, the little initiate clamped his button nose in one hand and gulped down the piece of broccoli, following it closely with almost an entire glass of milk.
He made another face. "It's still yucky."
"Yeah, but you can have a cookie now, sweetheart. I'm proud of you. That was very brave."
He smiled brightly, pleased at the praise, and Sammi moved on to the other side of the table where the little initiates were messily finishing their dinners. After Amila's frightening revelation the night before, Sammi had tried to push aside her fears and concentrate even more on the crèche and the children in it. As a blue-skinned Twi'lek girl sidled up beside the Padawan, tears on her face, Sammi pushed aside her thoughts to deal with the next crisis.
"What's wrong, Ooshla?" The teenager asked, fishing a tissue from out of one of her pockets to brush at the little girl's eyes. The girl didn't say anything, but held out her pudgy arms in the universal sign for "give me a hug." Sammi obliged, and, feeling the little one start crying into her shoulder again, whispered softly into the baby's ear.
"Can you tell me what's wrong, sweetie?"
Ooshla sniffled. "Don't want to go to bed," she whimpered. As the initiates headed to their cots for storytime and then sleep almost immediately after dinner, they often used mealtime to try and bargain for later bedtimes, but Sammi had never seen any of them cry over it before.
"Why not, honey? Is something wrong?"
"Scary people in dreams," the little Twi'lek explained.
"Oh, you've been having bad dreams," Sammi understood. "Do you want to talk about them?"
"Don't understand them. There's a gold person, and a gray person, and he looks gray 'cause he's dark, but he's pretending to be light and he talks to the gold man and makes him turn all shadowy and then the shadow man turns gold again and the gray man turns into dust and its really scary."
Instantly, Ooshla began sobbing again, leaving Sammi dizzily confused. The little Twi'lek had never shown signs of precognition or prophecy in her Force-gift, but it was highly unlikely that a dream with such strong color metaphors could be anything else. The Padawan sighed, then crouched down beside the little girl.
"Ooshla, sweetie, I think you should go and tell Master Amila about your dream. Tell her just what you told me, and then she can make it go away. All right?"
The girl nodded solemnly and ran off towards Sammi's Master, who was on the other side of the room settling a custody battle over a bright red toy speeder. Sammi saw the girl, sapphire head-tails flapping behind her, approach the motherly Master, heard a soft exchange, saw Amila's brow furrow, apparently coming to the same conclusion as her Padawan had, and watched as Amila drew her gentle hand over Ooshla's temples and focused the Force on the little girl, soothing away her nightmare and her short-term memory of the dream. For that night, at least, the child would not be haunted.
That evening, Sammi met Regan and Ray in her suite as she had the night before. Regan's entrance was considerably more subdued than usual, and the three of them remained silent for a moment as they gathered on the couch, looking out the window to the Temple's highest spire and, beyond that, the vast expanse of city, glittering with brilliant lights. They reflected, each lost in their own thoughts, on what the future held in store for them, then simlutaneously looked up at each other.
Sammi blushed sweetly as she studied Ray's face, seeing as if for the first time the sparkle in his brandy-brown eyes, the clean sheen of his caramel hair, and the warm tan of his skin. His eyes were fixed on her, so neither noticed Regan's lonely smile as she watched her two closest friends fall in love.
All three of them had been told about the Clone Wars; it was no secret in the Temple now that so many Jedi had left on missions and not returned, now that clonetroopers marched in colossal formations just outside the window.
Regan stood up and walked over to the window, deep in thought, leaving Sammi and Ray next to each other on the couch. Terrified that she was being too forward, but even more afraid to do nothing, Sammi leaned over and rested her head briefly on Ray's shoulder. He almost jumped, but then a slow, shy grin began to light up his face and he put his arm around her and began to toy with her silky hair.
The three Padawans sat in companionable silence for several moments, Sammi and Ray simply enjoying each other's company, Regan just watching, half lonely, half overjoyed to see the two people she cared about most find happiness, fearing that the time they would have left together was too short to waste.
All of a sudden, the door to the chambers burst open, and a red-eyed, human girl about Sammi's age stumbled in, sobbing hysterically.
All three Padawans jumped to their feet. "Karina, what is it?" Sammi asked.
"Sammi-I-," Karina, who had been another member of Sammi's old creche group, could barely stop crying for long enough to reply. "Master Sharra," a sob, "was on," she wept, "Geonosis." Karina had barely sobbed out the last word before a storm of hysterical tears wracked her body. Regan and Sammi, who were closer to Karina than Ray, looked at each other, then made the connection in their head and rushed to the crying girl. As Karina collapsed into Regan's shoulder, Sammi heard the door slide open, and a grim-faced Amila glided into the room, followed closely by Master Yoda. Regan gently led Karina to the couch and sat her down; Amila strode across the room to sit beside her.
"Sorry, I am, to come to you with such sad news, Padawan," Yoda began. "Fought bravely, your master did, but little consolation this brings to you."
Karina looked up, her face splotched with red and tear-streaked. She didn't speak, but listened closely to the wizened Master's words.
"Comfort I cannot bring you, Padawan. Powerful, your grief is. But fade, it will, with time." Yoda gave a mournful sigh. "Tried, Master Windu did, to bring only those Masters without Padawans to Geonosis with him, but needed, your Master Sharra was. So sorry for you, I am. Sad times, these are, and lose many more great Jedi, we will, before this war is done."
"Master," Karina started, her voice wavery and weak, "what will happen to me now?"
"Stay with your friends, you may, until another Master can be found for you. Become a Jedi, you still will, Karina."
Amila put an arm around the crying girl. "Karina, you can stay with Sammi and me for now, or with Regan and Master Sacha if you want. Things are bad, I know, but they'll get better."
"Yes, stay with your friends, you should. Comfort, they can bring you, for strong, you all must be."