The village elder was a woman who had traveled the wide galaxy and in her old age told tales about what was beyond Alek's little village of Squinquargesimus. All of the children were required to listen to the elder and her lessons before they could mature into elders themselves. They learned about the history of Quelii, about their culture, about the wider galaxy—about the dangers in the galaxy. About aliens with strange appearances. Humans that were more alien than aliens.
One of the lessons was about the Jedi.
Alek rarely paid attention to the elder's stories, yet he always listened to the ones about the Jedi. Years ago there had been a terrible war against a corrupted Jedi named Exar Kun. He took a tribe known as the "Manda" and tried to destroy their planet. Even though they were out of reach from the Republic, the Jedi saved them.
They were wizards—magicians. They used their mind to move objects, wielded swords of light that cut any substance, but most importantly they could read the souls of others. Some of the elders thought them to be children of the gods if not gods in their own right.
After that lesson, he imagined what it would be like to be a child of the gods. He ran into the swamps with his friends and for a few days after they pretended they were Jedi.
Now, he was too old for stories.
It happened the day Alek was to become an elder. That day, his tenth birthday, was when he went through the "trial of elders." That morning, his Father marked his forehead with two blue paint stripes above each eyebrow. It was a symbol of transition—the four blue moons of their world. It was a symbol that a boy would become a man.
His trial had been set.
The plains were hot and muggy beneath the Quelii sun. The swamps may have been far away yet he could still smell the eggy stench even from here. Alek groaned as he pulled a bantha through the long grass towards those swamps. Father gave him his blaster that afternoon and told him about his trial. He needed to kill the beast.
Kela wasn't happy about that. Oh no.
"Do you really have to kill it?"
His younger brother returned from listening to the village elder's stories. When he heard about Alek's trial, that he had to kill a bantha, Kela volunteered to go with him. His annoying brother dragged his feet at Alek's side and his long dark hair blew in the harsh winds. Alek stopped pulling the bantha with a huff.
"Yes, Kela. I need to do it to become a man. Father said so."
"You don't have to listen to him." Kela's face puffed up into a pout. "Just let it go free! He won't know!"
"Do you ever listen to the elders? Life begins in light and so it must end in darkness. Elders accept death. I want to be an elder."
Kela rarely listened to Father or Mother or the elders. When he was told to work on the community garden once, he ran off into the swamps instead to play. Lazy and disobedient children were usually punished with the swatch but not Kela. No. Kela could have burned the garden down and they would have patted him on the back for it. Why? Because Kela was smart. Kela was better at everything. Kela could do no wrong. Ever.
Alek continued pulling the bantha towards the swamps while muttering this to himself. Kela whined in his ear.
"But he's not gonna die yet, idiot! He has so much life left in him."
"So?"
"So, let him go! It'll roam free. That isn't bad!"
"Sure, and tomorrow it'll be killed by hounds and I'll fail my trial because you think you know better than the elders."
"Shut up, who cares about the elders? Who cares about your stupid trial?"
"I care."
"Please!" Kela grabbed the reins. The bantha moaned as he tugged on it too tight. "Please don't kill it!"
He paused when he saw tears forming in his younger brother's eyes.
"Why do you care so much?" he asked. "It's just a stupid bantha."
"I…" The tears finally fell down his brother's face. "Because…because I played with him all the time. He's my friend."
Alek rubbed his forehead of sweat while gazing out towards the swamps. Some of the blue pigment from his elder markings accidentally rubbed off.
"Kela, let go."
"No!"
Alek yanked back on the reins.
"Let go!"
A strange sensation. A ripple. A buzz. It was familiar. It was in his hand.
Power.
Kela was pushed away as if Alek had the strength of the bantha. He froze after his younger brother soared then landed feet away from him. Tears dropped down Kela's small chin. Then, after a moment of silence, his tears cleared. Kela pulled something out of his pocket—a red cloth bandana. Large enough to fit around the bantha's neck. Kela threw it away and then sniffed. More tears fell down his face.
"I hate you!"
With that shout, his small brother scrambled to his feet and ran back to the house while rubbing his tear-stricken face.
Alek bent down and picked up the bandana. It blew in the light wind.
The swamps stretched for miles beyond their village—all the way to the next. Some said ghosts haunted it at night, hidden in the mists but only little kids believed that. Alek tried to yank the bantha further yet the mud grew too thick for him to walk. The sounds of the swamp, the insects, the birds, the crawlers, was the choir that went with his trial. Alek threw the reins to the muddy ground.
Alek flipped off the safety, just like his father showed him, and pointed the blaster at the creature. It would take two blaster bolts to the face to kill it. For a moment, though, he hesitated. Would Father even know if he let it go? He could lie—say animals ate the corpse. He really didn't want Kela to be upset, even if he was wrong. It was just a stupid bantha, after all.
He strengthened his grip on the blaster and then placed his finger on the trigger to shoot.
A flash.
A mechanical whine blasted high above. A whistle. Boom! Alek fell as the ground shook beneath his feet. Orange and red flashed in the distance—mechanical beasts twice the size of banthas swarmed the skies like comets. He was frozen as he watched fire rain down upon his home. The grass burst into flames. The barn burned to ash. The mechanical beasts didn't even stop to watch the carnage as if they had merely scorched the dirt for a campfire. They flew off—away. Towards his village. The booms rocked the ground again as the mechanical beasts continued their bombardment.
Alek forgot the bantha. He ran to his home. Black smoke clouded the blue sky. The fires raged—no one survived. Vaporized in an instant. Nothing was left. He fell to his knees as the heat made his face sweat, and he didn't even have the energy to scream.
It happened that quickly. In a blink, everything burned to the ground. Mother, Father, Kela—dead. The village was gone. Burned. Destroyed by faceless monsters.
All that remained was the bandanna.
Alek didn't remember what happened after that. All that he remembered was that he survived.
When the Republic ships dropped them off at the Taris spaceports, the sight of the tall, reflective structures had Alek gaping so much he was afraid his jaw would fall off. The tallest building he saw back home had been the elder's temple—it was as tall as a tree. But this…the buildings didn't have an end. And it was an entire forest full of them.
A red-orange armored officer marched up to their small group. It was one of the Republic soldiers. Out of all the people that lived on Quelii, Alek guessed only a few thousand of his people survived and a hundred or so were orphaned children like him. On the ship ride to Taris, he heard the soldiers whisper about something similar happening to the neighboring planet. One complained about "policing" the Outer Rim systems. Apparently, the only reason the Republic stepped in to help was due to who attacked them.
The Manda. Or the Mandalorians, as the soldiers called them. One of the enemies from the last war.
Alek stumbled after the soldier who led them to a stern-looking woman with a droid. There, she recorded their names and—since they didn't have a "last" name—their village. With a cold glance, they gave him a tag to wear around his neck. He was now Alek Squinquarguisimus. Ridiculous, yet a name was all he had left other than his brother's bandanna. He kept it tied around his arm
One of the children, an older girl, asked where they were going. The Republic soldier pretended like he didn't hear her. Alek knew that he didn't say anything because where they were going wasn't a good place.
The Lower City of Taris—named due to being below the high skyscraper tops—was a dank, musty, dark place. It smelled worse than the bogs. There the soldiers led them to what they called "the camp." All of Quelii's refugees were to wait in the camp while the Taris government and the Republic senate decided on what to do with them. The camp was in an abandoned building in the Lower City—the heat was stifling and there wasn't much room for them to walk around despite there not being many of them. The soldiers directed them to their temporary home—makeshift tents that could have been blown away if there had been actual wind down there.
After they arrived at the camp, the days blurred together. The markings on Alek's forehead had long washed away from rain and sweat. Destroyed along with his home. He didn't bother putting the paint back. The trial didn't matter anymore.
Food was scarce even though the Republic fed them two meals a day. Illness spread throughout the camp and the soldiers could barely afford to give them medicine. Thieves took valuables, murderers and abusers killed in the night. The orphan's tent, although small, was the most protected.
Every day, Alek listened to the holonews with the other children. The Taris news claimed that the Mandalorians attacked Quelii out of vengeance for what happened in the last war. That is why the Republic chose to help those that survived. The Tarisians were angry that the Republic and the refugees were there. The Republic for threatening their independence. The Quellians for taking resources. The Tarisians said they would become criminals or join the swoop gangs if left alone for too long. They wanted them gone.
Alek wished he could leave. He hated it there. Yet there was nowhere for him to go.
At night, as he lay in his cot, he tried to hold back tears. Yet he couldn't. I hate you. Those had been Kela's last words to him. If he let the bantha go, Kela wouldn't have run back home that day. He wouldn't have died. Kela didn't deserve to die. Alek deserved to die.
A month passed of living in the camps, surviving, when something finally changed. Alek coughed as he stumbled past dirty beggars and crumbling tents. Fatigue weighed on his small form due to his wandering—he hated sitting around doing nothing so he walked around the camp. He arrived at his tent home that evening—the other children crowded around the back, listening to the half-functioning holoprojector the Republic gave them. The other children shot him dirty looks as he stumbled in. He had to push his way toward the holo to see what the fuss was about.
"…senate has made a decision today to pull all funding from the Quelii refugee efforts effective immediately. Since the planet has been abandoned by the Mandalorian raiders, the senate sees no reason to continue providing aid. The refugees will be returned to their world by the Mercy Corp and the Tarisian government will be recompensed."
Some children, the younger children, were overjoyed at the prospect of going home. Yet a dark bitter feeling sunk within Alek's stomach. There was nothing left for him on Quelii. His entire village had been destroyed by the Mandalorians. He knew no one. He was no one. Alek was the only Squinquargusimas in the camp.
He stopped listening to the broadcast and sat on his bunk, alone, and took off Kela's bandanna.
And he cried. He dreamed of being someone else. Someone stronger.
The Mercy Corp arrived the next day. The Republic soldiers shouted for them to leave their tents as they entered the camp. The Mercy Corp soldiers wore long robes and had serious faces—so unlike the other soldiers that lazily brought order to the camp. At first, that's who he thought the Mercy Corp were—soldiers. Only that changed when he spotted the strange weapon on their belts.
It was a silver, intricate cylinder.
Jedi.
Alek remembered the tales the great elder told—of silver hilts that created beams of light. These people were those Jedi. The heroes from the stories.
Alek was stunned. So stunned he didn't hear the Jedi call for them all to line up to leave on the ships they brought with them. They were to give them supplies—food, water, clothes, credits. Any injured were to speak to the Jedi at the front near the station. Alek was so slow to process this that he ended up being in the line for the injured even when he wasn't in need of aid at all.
His heart beat in his chest and time slowed to a crawl as he approached the Jedi. Maybe going home wasn't going to be so bad if the Jedi were there to help them? The one passing out the medical supplies, a young woman, frowned as the refugees slowly limped away with the soldiers. They actually cared about them. They cared. Of course they cared, they could see into their souls.
It was Alek's turn.
The Jedi eyed him with pity as she passed him a bag of medical supplies. Yet, unlike the others, he didn't move on. Instead, he asked—
"Are you a Jedi?"
She raised a brow, then smiled.
"Yes, young one."
"Can…" His words were small. "Can I be a Jedi?"
If he was a Jedi like the stories, then he could save others. He could have saved Kela, his mother, his father, if he was a Jedi. If he was strong.
The Jedi frowned and looked to the side.
"I…I'm sorry, but you need to be Force sensitive."
What?
"Force sensitive?"
"Um…" She seemed nervous. "It's—"
An elder Jedi stepped away from the door and approached them, interrupting the young woman. He was of a different species—one with those long head tails. A Twi'lek, maybe? He was giving Alek a funny look.
"Who are you, child?"
He hesitated. Almost didn't speak.
"A-Alek."
The elder Jedi's dark eyes watched him for a moment. It was otherworldly—a ripple of either anticipation shivered down his spine. A buzz. Was this the Jedi's doing? Was he using his powers? Eventually, the elder Jedi bent down so that he was eye level.
"Tell me—what did you feel just now?"
Alek blinked. "Um…" He looked away to the ground. "It was something…something in the air. Like a muggy day but—"
Cold.
He shivered.
"I sense great fear in you, Alek."
He was right. He was afraid…of the future. Afraid of being alone. Alek shook his head to hide his shivering.
"I-I'm just cold is all."
"A Jedi cannot fear. If they fear, they will fall to the dark side. The Force is a great power—terrible if used the wrong way."
Alek shook his head. "No, I don't want that. I want to protect people like you."
"Sometimes the desire to protect others is what drives one to seek power. Is that not what you are doing by asking to become a Jedi?"
Alek's head dipped.
"I…" He wanted to lie. Yet, he would know. "Yes. I am. Sorry."
The Jedi was right. He wanted the power to protect others. It was a foolish hope then. He wasn't good enough to be a Jedi. He would never be strong enough.
The older Jedi didn't speak for a moment. Only watched in silence. Then, there was a small chuckle.
"It is a rare day for a youngling to admit their faults so quickly. Even older Jedi are too stubborn to do so."
The young woman stepped forward.
"Master Zhar, you don't mean—"
"What you desire isn't wrong, young Alek. Sometimes, strength is needed to protect the weak. Yet, not physical strength. Strength of will."
Alek tilted his head. "What does that mean?"
"It means you are Force sensitive. You could become a Jedi if you wanted to."
Alek's body lifted—the fear that had always hung within the back of his mind went away. For the first time in a month, he smiled. Maybe as a Jedi he could belong. As a Jedi, he could become someone.
The old Twi'lek Jedi raised his brows as he looked down at him.
"That wasn't a promise. You will be tested. Life as a Jedi is hard and full of sacrifice. Only those who are able to follow our code can join the Order. But…I have faith in you."
Alek frowned as the fear once again crawled up his chest, yet he pushed that fear away. So, it would be like the trial of elders. He would do anything. Anything to become a Jedi. If he had to follow their rules, their code, so be it.
Better than returning to a home that no longer felt like home anymore.
The first thing Alek noticed about Dantooine was the smell. It was like perfume yet…it wasn't synthetic. A natural, relaxing smell like in a garden only the garden back home was nothing in comparison.
The shuttle landed in the Dantooine port and Alek shuffled after Jedi Master Zhar Lestin. His student, a teenage girl named Loana, spoke to him about the ways of the Jedi as they traveled on the ship. He listened attentively while munching on the sweets she provided.
She liked to talk—a lot. She told him about how one should keep their emotions under control using "meditation." How excessive use of the Force could lead one to the dark side. She told him about the Jedi Code (that he already forgot) and how uncontrolled emotions could lead one down a dark path. Alek tried to appear interested only…he was starting to think Loana thought he was daft. He wasn't a child—he was almost a man when he was back at his village. Yet, he doubted she would have believed him.
She pushed him along by the shoulders as if he couldn't walk.
Master Zhar's soft voice barely rose above the quiet of the enclave as he spoke to one of the engineers at the port. It was so quiet. Too quiet. Alek wanted to clap his hands just to make some noise. He was so used to the city bustle and the encore of insects from the swamps that anything less was distracting.
Zhar led them through the halls until they arrived in a wide open space. Containers filled to the brim with plants and flowers Alek had never seen before and fountains sprayed clear water into old, crumbling statues. Only rich, well-to-do people had all of this. The elders told stories of a utopia that the good ones went to when they passed into the afterlife. Alek wondered as he stepped through the gardens if he had died and gone to that utopia.
Some children that were his age sat in the grass close to the flowers. They were levitating like a speeder.
Zhar and Loana became distracted by another Jedi, an old geezer, so he snuck away before they noticed. The floating children were sleeping or…something. The grass crunched beneath his boot yet that didn't wake them up.
Were they dead?
There was only one way to find out. He poked the cheek of one of the children, a small boy. The boy floated to the ground and glared up at him with dark eyes as if he'd done some horrible crime.
Alek glared back.
"What?"
The boy let out an annoyed huff.
"What do you mean what? You poked me."
Alek blinked. "So?"
"It's rude."
"Rude? Sorry, but you're weird. How were you…floating?"
"I'm meditating."
"Meditating?"
Before he could ask the boy to explain, Loana snatched his arm and pulled him away while scolding him about bothering the other students.
They left the gardens back into the cool hallways. The floors were so waxed Alek could see his blurry reflection. Cleaning droids swept the area.
"We will be meeting with the Dantooine Jedi Council, young Alek," Zhar said as he walked by his side. "There they will test you."
He didn't like the sound of that. Yes, he would do what the elders told him to do as he had in his village, yet he had no idea what these elders wanted from him. He had no idea how the Jedi manifested their power using "the Force." In the quiet of the night in his bunk on the ship, he tried to make Kela's bandanna float. Yet nothing he tried worked. Was he truly Force sensitive? What if Zhar was mistaken? He wanted to live in the utopia. He didn't want to leave.
The Twi'lek must have noticed his worry. He stopped and bent down so that they were eye level.
"Relax." He patted his shoulder. "Whatever happens…we will make sure you are taken care of. Promise."
That made him feel at ease. Slightly.
The Jedi Council were similar to the Council of his village only they weren't all made up of elders. Some were young, some were alien—one was an imp-looking creature he'd never seen before in his life. They spoke mostly to Zhar about what happened on Taris and Quelii while only occasionally asking him questions about his home. He told them about his parents and his brother. They were very interested in them for reasons unknown to him.
Then, after the questions, they made him sit uncomfortably in the middle of the room. The sun beamed down on his head from the glass window ceiling and it made him sweat rivers. This lasted for a long time. So long, his mind began to wander…
Kela chased after him, begging him not to kill the bantha. Father smiled and nodded as he passed the blaster to him. The night cooled his skin. Flashes. Fire. Death. Everything gone—
"Enough."
One of the Council members, a dark-skinned older man called out. Alek opened his eyes and stared at the Jedi with a worried look. Had they seen his mind? Did they not like it?
"He hasn't let go." The imp-Jedi hummed. "Troubled. Full of fear. He isn't suited for Jedi training."
"Yes." A grumpy, pale Jedi nodded. "And he is too old. Too attached. I'm sorry, Zhar, but while he is strong in the Force, he wouldn't last through the training. Not without falling to the dark side."
"I-I…" Alek's voice shook. "Can't you teach me not to do that? Could I be a Jedi then?"
The other Jedi hummed as if contemplating his words. Zhar took a step forward and waved a hand at him.
"The boy has just been through a traumatic experience. Perhaps time and healing could allow the young one to learn," he said. "May I suggest…a month. Let the boy live here among the students. Give him a chance."
"We gave Exar Kun a chance." The grumpy Jedi narrowed his bird-like eyes. "The Council on Coruscant decided that only those young enough could be trained because of it. How can you not sense this one's fear?"
"I sensed it but…it can be overcome."
The imp-Jedi leaned on his staff. His round eyes watched Alek carefully.
"I will give you a chance, Alek," the imp-Jedi said. "If you do one thing."
He straightened and nodded.
"Yes. Anything."
"We can sense that you are still attached to your home. A Jedi cannot remain attached even to those they have lost. You will learn from the teachers here for a period of time. They will help you process your pain. In a month you will be evaluated again."
"But—"
Alek stopped talking once he noticed that the Jedi Council was watching him. Expecting. He looked to his right to the bandanna tied around his arm. The bandanna helped him through the long, tough nights in the camp. He imagined Kela by his side—he wanted nothing more than to be there again.
Yet, if he was going to learn how to protect those like his brother…he had to let go.
He nodded.
"Alright. I'll try."
The imp-Jedi smiled. Yet Alek wasn't sure if he could.
Zhar Lestin told him over dinner that he would be leaving for Coruscant. Alek stopped eating the fish on his plate.
"What?"
Zhar sighed. "My place is at the Academy there, young one. I have other students. Perhaps one day we will meet again—if you are accepted as a Jedi."
Alek would have been lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. He hoped that Zhar would have helped him during this month-long trial. Yet, it seems like he underestimated being a Jedi—it wasn't easy at all.
The next morning, after he dressed in his new robes, one of the teachers of the Jedi school led him to the lesson halls. The woman was younger than his mother and was very beautiful. As he walked beside her, he noticed her eyes were milky white. Blind. Yet, somehow she acted as if she could see him. The Force? Had to be.
The blind Jedi told him that she taught history, social studies, art, literature, and philosophy to the younglings. The Council decided it would be for the best if he started with something familiar. Something like the old lessons he had back home with the great elder. Only he would learn far more about the galaxy from the Jedi.
"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself." The blind Jedi smiled. "I am Arren Kae. You may call me Master Kae if you wish."
They entered the lesson hall. Children of all ages sat at desks with in-built data screens. All of them stared at him like he was a strange pebble found in the sole of a boot. He spotted that same dark-eyed boy he poked yesterday sitting in the back, absorbed in the holo diagrams. The boy didn't look up as he entered.
Arren Kae told the group his name and nothing else. Nothing about where he came from or what he'd been through, but that was to be expected. As a Jedi, none of that was supposed to matter anymore.
His jaw clenched.
Master Kae showed him to an empty desk in the back beside a young girl with a tan complexion. She smiled at him when he sat down…he smiled back. Kae returned to the front near a holoprojector.
"Since Alek is new to the Order, I believe it would be good practice for you all to teach him what you've learned this year." She eyed the boy in the corner. "Padawan?"
The boy with dark eyes, the Padawan, answered Kae.
"Yes, Master?"
"Can you go to the Archives and bring some datapads—namely the ones detailing Jedi doctrine and methods."
"Of course, Master."
The boy left—as he left many of the Jedi children watched him. Alek could tell they looked up to the older stoic boy.
In the meantime, the Jedi children introduced themselves and shared what they learned with Alek. Most of what they talked about went over his head—all of it sounded like a foreign language. There were only some things he actually picked up on. One boy, a Twi'lek named Rhaef, spoke about the different aspects of the Force—not only could someone pick up things with the Force but they could use the Force to control others. Another, the girl that sat next to him named Myla, explained how to sense life in the next room.
They were almost at the fifteenth child when the boy returned with a stack of datapads in hand. He placed them onto Alek's desk then, without a word to him, the boy left. To where? Alek had no idea. He turned and whispered to Myla.
"Who was that?"
"Oh, him?" She paused in thought then shrugged. "That's Master Kae's Padawan."
"No, I mean, what is his name?"
"It's—"
"I should hope that you are helping Alek with the lesson, young Valaut?"
Myla Valaut flinched at the sound of Kae's voice. Her eyes flitted back down to the desk then nodded without a word. No one else in the room had ever been sternly talked to by Master Kae yet (even those who had been overly excited with the lesson). Alek thought this was…odd.
Fortunately, Master Kae didn't linger on Myla for long. She went ahead with explaining the code to him…and, honestly, most of it went over his head. Again. She spoke about how emotions like anger caused darkness to twist and corrupt the Force. How in order to use the Force the correct way, he needed to let go of those emotions.
She demonstrated by lifting the datapad with the Force. It spun and hovered towards him and then was placed on his desk gently. He was then asked to use the Force to lift the datapad himself.
All eyes were on him. Sweat built on his forehead and he closed his eyes. Focusing. Focus. In the darkness, he tried to erase all of the emotions he had about being there. His loneliness, his fear, his anger. A buzz wavered within his mind—he sensed it, there! That had to be the Force.
Yet…when he tried to reach out…it slipped away from his grasp…
A sigh.
"It's alright, Alek." Master Kae's voice was terse. "You have only just started."
And so Alek spent that afternoon meditating. Focusing. Feeling that buzz yet never grabbing hold of it. The sun beat down on his head and more sweat ran down his face. When he tried to focus on the Force, and failed, Vandar tried to reassure him too. Yet, he felt that bitterness…the bitterness of failure…crawl up his chest. Every time he could see…Kela shouting at him.
Hating him.
That failure lasted a week.
Day after day, Alek could not focus on the Force. In the mornings, he would go to Master Kae's lessons where he made fast friends with Myla Valaut and another young boy named Orto. In the afternoons, he would go see Master Vandar who tried to help him use the Force. Most of the time, Vandar tried to make him forget the past. Forget his parents. His brother. Yet, still, he couldn't. They had been everything to him.
One afternoon, the small Jedi gave up on meditation and instead placed him in a sparring class with others his age. The sparring instructor, a Jedi Knight named Quatra, lined them up and gave him a wooden staff. Instead of teaching him how to hit things like the other students, she had him hold the staff in various positions. The entire time.
In the middle of one of the painful forms, he noticed that boy, Kae's Padawan, fighting a white-haired girl (an Echani, he remembered). The way they fought…he could barely keep track of them. The girl defended each of his blows with the staff yet he could tell she was starting to tire. Meanwhile, Kae's Padawan hadn't broken a sweat.
"No." Quatra touched his shoulder. "Your focus has broken. Only focus on the Force, not your surroundings."
Yet, how could he? How could he focus on the Force when he didn't know how it felt?
The lesson ended with him being less closer to using the Force like his peers. Kae's Padawan offered the Echani girl a hand, a small smile touched his lips. The girl scoffed.
"I told you, I don't need your help. I'll ask Quatra before I ask you."
The boy tilted his head. "Huh? But I thought arrogance wasn't the Jedi way, Atris?"
With a huff, the girl, Atris, ignored his hand and stormed out of the training room. Kae's Padawan lowered his hand. Yes. That was it. Help. He needed to ask the other students how they learned how to use the Force. Maybe…maybe they could help him. The Masters were far too experienced and used to the Force to understand how hard it was.
He watched Kae's Padawan leave and he didn't wait for Quatra to release him.
All of the rocks that had been lifted by the Force fell with a thump.
"Ah! Um…sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Alek had followed Kae's Padawan for a half hour at least…until he'd stopped at this lake. For a few minutes, he peered out and watched the young boy…lift rocks with the Force and throw them into the lake. It seemed pointless, really, yet at the same time…it looked fun. If he had the power to do that, he would have juggled his kickballs from back home into the air too.
He'd wanted to approach and talk to him, ask him for help, yet he was so focused that he started to feel guilty about it. Why would he want to help him? Why would anyone want to help him? Fortunately, or unfortunately, he'd been so entranced that he forgot he'd been walking…and stepped on a branch.
This made Kae's Padawan turn and, just like that day he poked his cheek, he glared. So, Alek was quick to try to explain his suspicious presence.
"S-Saw you wander off after the sparring lesson and I was…" He blinked. "Um, what are you doing?"
The rocks started to hover and some skipped across the water. Like he was ignoring him.
"Practicing."
"Oh." Ah, right. Of course. What else would he be doing? There was another awkward silence. The rocks fell with a plop. "Practicing what?"
"Control."
"Right." More silence. Gods, how was he going to approach this? "Do you…always practice?"
"Yup."
"By yourself?"
"Sure."
Silence.
"Why?"
The boy huffed, Alek could tell he was feeling frustrated by these questions.
"I need to focus. People like you are distracting."
Alek felt a pit of rage in his stomach. So much so, he narrowed his eyes.
"People like me? What does that mean?"
"It means, 'Go away.'"
The rocks once again lifted. Yet, before they shot off—
"Do you ever take a break?"
The rocks fell again.
"Break?"
"Yeah, you know…like to play a game? Used to do that back home after work and studies. We kicked balls around and…well, that was before my planet was..." Alek tried to get the words out yet…the fire. The flames. He stuck his hand in his pocket where Kela's bandanna was. The boy lowered his arm and gave Alek a strange look. Right, he probably looked crazy. There was a brief moment of silence before Alek gained enough courage to continue. "The Masters told me not to talk about home anymore, but I can't stop thinking about it. They just…destroyed everything."
The boy frowned. "Everything?"
"Yeah." He sniffed. No. Stop. "The Mandalorians. Destroyed everything. Killed my parents." Alek couldn't stop though. Tears flowed down his face. And the boy just…stared at him. Almost as if he was…disturbed. Yet he didn't protest so Alek rambled through his tears. "We were just farmers. Just living without bothering anyone. We…me and my friends used to go into the forest. We played…stupid games. Like we'd pretend to be heroes and villains. Chase each other around with sticks till the heroes won. Then we'd switch it up and be soldiers, smugglers. Jedi, Sith…you know—"
"Who are you?"
"Oh!" Alek wiped his eyes. How stupid. Finally, eventually, the tears were gone. "Uh…I'm Alek Squinquargesimus. From Quelii."
"Squiniqaurt…what?"
"No, no. Squinquargesimus. The new apprentice."
"New apprentice?"
"Did…did you forget already?" He waved his hand. "I was right there in front of you when Master Kae introduced me! I've been here for a week!"
The boy scratched his chin. There was a smile on his face. This bastard. He knew who he was. He was making fun of him!
"Sqweeny-guar-guess…"
"Squin-quar-gesimus." Alek narrowed his eyes. "It's not that hard to pronounce, stupid."
The boy raised his brows as if shocked. A moment of this shocked look passed before…a whoosh of wind and the lack of gravity sent Alek off his feet and onto the ground.
"Wha—hey!"
The boy shot him a sneaky look as he rubbed his head.
"A Jedi doesn't play games, Squinty."
"S-Squinty? How…that isn't—!" Alek got onto his feet and then stopped flustering when he saw the smirk stuck on the annoying boy's face. "Don't call me that."
"What, Squinty? But…isn't that your name?"
"No. It's not actually—"
"Squint?" The annoying boy bonked the back of his head. "Oh, whoops. My bad, Squint."
Alek tried not to narrow his eyes but he couldn't help it. Not when the annoying boy was so…annoying.
"You really think you're funny, don't you?" Alek marched to his side and then sat down, crossing his legs. "Well, who are you then? Are you stick in the mud? Rock face? Dumb-dumb?"
The boy closed his eyes with a grin.
"Hmm, Dumb-dumb doesn't sound half bad. Squint."
Alek huffed. This boy…wasn't acting at all like he had back at the Enclave. So, had it all been a facade? He only pretended to be nice around the Jedi Masters? What a fake. He doubted this boy could help him.
"They said the Jedi were supposed to be nice, but…but you're just mean."
The boy rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. It's just a name, Squint, stop taking it so seriously."
"Yeah, but that isn't just my name. It's…it's the name of my village."
"So?"
"So?" Alek shouted. "So? My village was destroyed! My parents are dead. My name...who I am is all that I have left!"
"There is no emotion, there is peace." The boy closed his eyes as if feeling the sensations of the Force in the cool air. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony." He opened his eyes. A frog sat on a lily pad. Eating flies. "There is no death, there is the Force."
Alek gaped at him after he finished reciting the Jedi Code. He'd heard the code before yet until now…he hadn't bothered to try to understand it. Before he could ask any questions, the boy elaborated for him. "As Jedi, we aren't supposed to become attached to others. Your parents, your friends, your village. Otherwise, you'll succumb to passion. Succumb to the dark side. What's done is done, Squint. Who you were before doesn't matter. There is no death, there is the Force. Move on."
The boy lifted his hand and the rocks soared across the water. Almost yet never quite making it to the other side.
Alek shivered. "You really think that?" Sadness crept up his chest. "I can't just…just move on like their deaths don't matter!"
The boy sighed.
"That isn't what I said, Squint."
"It was!"
"They matter. But you still have to move on. Easy."
"How long have you been a Jedi?" Alek asked. "What about your parents? You must have cried when they died or when you left them too. Unless you didn't care."
The boy stopped. His expression dipped and Alek almost felt…no he did feel sadness in the air.
"Dantooine is all that I've known," the boy finally answered, stoic, cold. "It's better that way."
"What?" Alek couldn't believe it. "So, you don't know your parents? You…you've been here your entire life?"
"Yes." The boy stared for a moment at nothing then shrugged. "I have no attachments so it is easy to keep to the ways of the Jedi."
"Then how do you know?" Alek muttered. "How do you know that it is easy to move on when you don't have anyone to care about?"
The boy looked over his shoulder. Alek's tears had long since dried and he tried to make himself appear less pathetic. Less emotionally driven. He would be a Jedi. He had to be. The boy wasn't convinced unless...unless he actually listened to him, he would never be a Jedi.
So, with a shout, he took Kela's bandanna out of his pocket and threw it into the lake. The red cloth was consumed by the lake and a moment later it was forever lost in the depths.
Eventually, after a long moment of being studied by the boy, the boy pointed at a rock.
"You wanna try? I've been trying to get it to the other side but…well, it hasn't worked."
"Uh…" Alek was stunned by how nonchalant he was acting. "I don't know. I only recently started to use the Force. I can barely lift anything."
"Come on, it's easy." The boy pushed his small body around. "You have to trust in the Force. Feel it like an extension of your body and soul. If you don't believe you can do it, you never will."
Alek rubbed the side of his face. After a moment of staring at the rock, he closed his small eyes and raised both hands up. The air vibrated with a hesitant power, quelling both of their bodies. Below his hands, the rock jostled as if there was something alive inside. It lifted a centimeter off the ground…
Alek collapsed with a huff. The power disappeared and the rock thudded into the mud.
"See?" He groaned. "It's no use. I'm so far behind everyone already. I mean—you could fling these so easily. I don't even know why the Jedi took me in… Should have just left me in the ruins of my homeworld."
The boy frowned. "But I sensed it—you could have thrown the rock if you wanted to."
"I do want to, stupid."
"Do you?"
Alek blinked and gave the boy a thoughtful look. Then, he raised his hands over the rock again. The air stirred with the Force only now it felt more confident. Purposeful. Alek wanted to prove that he could do it. And, strangely, he could tell that the boy wanted him to succeed too.
But the rock fell again. It almost hit the ground—
It didn't!
In an instant, the rock shot across the water and then fell into the lake with a plop!
Alek jumped onto his feet and smiled. He waved at the lake. His excitement caused a spike of joy to flow through his veins.
"That—that was amazing! I did it!" Alek shouted.
The boy gaped, then hesitated.
"Sure…yeah…you…you did it."
Alek frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's weird."
The boy's smile fell and he returned to his Jedi stoicism. To control.
"Nothing. Keep practicing."
The boy returned to lifting the rocks and shooting them across the lake. Alek sat next to him again, focusing on the rocks with the Force. They spent the rest of the day by the lakeside and for many days after. Eventually, their practice turned into childish games. Where one pretended to be a Sith. The other a heroic Jedi.
Weeks later, Alek, with the boy's help, officially became a Jedi apprentice. Because of that, Alek couldn't imagine not being loyal to him. For that reason, the games by the lake never stopped.
He didn't want them to stop, and yet…eventually after the boy took up the name of Revan and after he took the name Malak, they did.