Chapter Three: Landing
"That's it, Borworken," Ran noted with excitement, checking the scanners. They had just exited hyperspace and were heading inbound over a white-green world.
The winter woodland planet of Mathassi.
"It's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen," Ascera whispered, awed by the breathtaking view.
De-Lanna wiped misting tears from her eyes. "This is the first time I've ever visited another world aside from my homeworld of Senaria and Yavin. I've never seen anything like it. It's like a gemstone or the heart of winter itself. Everything that you ever loved about snow and the winter holidays is given form in that one planet."
Carson huffed derisively. "You're just another space virgin, girlie." Ran noticed De-Lanna's furious blush at being referred to as a virgin. The burly warrior barreled on, "This is just another world like any other. It's got its people, its customs, and its quirks. But it ain't anythin' new." He turned to the Wookiee, whose fur had begun to grow back in the bald spots Ran had cut. "Hey, Clean-shaven, get us some landin' coordinates."
Borworken howled something unflattering to his partner at the jibe, but dutifully searched the topographical scanners for a suitable landing zone.
"What the flamin' Core is this?" Carson demanded when he saw the suggested site. "That ain't a landin' zone, you fuzzball! Not for a ship this size. That's too small. We'd knock off somethin' important."
Ran took a look at the site coordinates himself and skimmed over the readings about the surrounding area. "Actually, I may be able to make that," he said with a touch of pride at having one-upped the burly, sour warrior. "It'll be tight, though," he amended.
"No way," Carson argued, "kid like you ain't got forty years of flight experience like Borworken does. If 'e can't land this sucker there, no one can. And that spot's too tight, I tell you."
"And I tell you I can make it. Besides, I've got better reflexes and you both know it. Experience helps in a lot of instances, but here, its reflexes that'll matter. And these coordinates are close to a large cluster of life-form readings, maybe even a settlement. It's a good spot to land."
Before Carson could protest further, Ran gained control of the ship and sent the transport into a hard, unrelenting, punishing plummet on full throttle. Borworken howled, frightened for his very life; Carson was gripping onto his seat and by the expression on his face, he was trying to keep down his breakfast. There were other screams in the lounge—Ascera and De-Lanna could be heard tumbling around, thrown off their feet by surprising Ran's maneuver.
"Hang on tight!" the green-eyed Jedi laughed belatedly. He drew upon the Force to show him the terrain ahead seconds before he crossed it. Every tree, every stone, every single animal and plant and mineral became known to him with the intimacy of a close friend. The curves and the edges, the twists and the turns…nothing was hidden from his sight. Instinct took over, guided his hands with a sureness he, for all his cocky skill, could never muster on his own.
Mountains suddenly appeared ahead and he hit the brake repulsors. The ship came to a slow, graceful stop, nestling between two arms of craggy rock without a scratch. Ran sighed and let adrenaline and the Force flow out of his hands. The universe became very small in his mind's eye, but a smile dominated his glowing face.
"How was that?" he smirked over at a dumfounded Carson.
De-Lanna looked over a datapad. "Doctor Shemza's research data says that the Jedi Temple should be about a day's hike from here, deep in the mountains to the east."
Ran, Carson, and Borworken peered over the ridge they were lying on, catching their first glimpse of the mysterious settlement below, a collection of primitive huts surrounded by bustling, pale-skinned humanoids. The humanoids had the look of farmers, herders, and gardeners. They were simple country folk who had never heard of the New Republic or even of a hyperdrive engine. There was a pristine nobility to them, Ran believed, a delicate purity that had gone untainted by outside troubles for untold generations. It seemed a crime to set foot upon their snowy world, whose unmarred white plains were as innocent as the creatures below seemed to be.
"That means we 'ave to go through the village," Carson said in a decidedly neutral tone. It was evident to Ran that the burly warrior did not enjoy the idea of walking around alien simpletons.
In truth, he himself did not relish the idea of imposing on those simple, noble-seeming beings. "But the Jedi came to them once before," he murmured to himself, wrestling with the implications. Louder, he said, "Let's go down there."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Ascera asked, kneeling next to him. "We are outsiders, armed. I don't think they'd take kindly to our presence."
"We have three Jedi," Ran argued, "and I don't mean I think we can beat them. The Jedi Knights came here once, Ascera, to have that Temple built. Maybe the Jedi are still revered here. If so…."
The Twi'lek finished his thought, for they were of one mind in this instance. "If so, then there could still be natives trained in the Jedi arts!" Excitement lit her face, which had fully healed from his prank. "Ran, De-Lanna, this means that we might be able to find capable, fully-trained recruits here for the academy! Not only that, but they'd have been trained under the doctrines of the old Order!"
Ran smiled at her joy. He knew well his friend's fascination with the romantic Jedi heroes of the Old Republic. Now, he thought, she'd finally get to meet them. The decision was made, and the party made their way down the ridge to the settlement below.
The trek was trying. Snow crunched beneath leather boots and seeped into homespun and trousers, chilling their legs. Cloaks and jackets were pulled close and tight as a mountain wind cut through their rapidly cooling bodies. Ran fell within himself, eyes half-lidded, compelling the Force to surge new vitality into his numbing limbs. He wondered how Carson was able to stand the environment with such grim stoicism, all without the benefit of Borworken's thick fur. Ran and his Jedi comrades were freezing in the mercenaries' wakes.
But no less than two hours later, they arrived half-frozen before the humble wooden gates of the walled village. Watchmen had spotted them long before, for a troop of the pale-skinned humanoids waited for them with primitive spears and axes in hand. Ran eyed them curiously. They were short creatures, with human builds, but their faces were plated with bony ridges that ran back along their bald scalps. What further intrigued him was their weaponry. Each was emblazoned with the insignia of the Old Republic.
One of the creatures waved a hand to his comrades, and the troop split, circling around Ran and his companions. Carson and Borworken lifted their blasters, but Ascera interceded, laying a staying hand upon the muzzles. Ran and De-Lanna kept their fingers close to their lightsabers but did not draw.
One of the creatures spoke in a harsh, guttural language of clicks and grunts.
"Ran," Ascera said, placing a hand on his arm, "remember what you did back on Gamaraa Three?"
He thought back to that incident. He and Ascera had been sent to acquire the native race's unique machinery, but they had difficulty communicating with them. Ran overcame that obstacle by drawing upon the Force to simulate the Gamarans' unusual mixture of verbal and emotional communication.
The Force filled him, and when he spoke, there was a tinny to it. "We are not enemies."
The creatures were taken aback, surprise evident upon their strange countenances. "You speak our language, as did the Ones Who Came Before."
Ran, Ascera, and De-Lanna exchanged glances, and the green-eyed Jedi voiced their question, "Who are the Ones Who Came Before? The Jedi?"
There was much howling and ruckus at the mention of the Jedi, for the creatures whooped and struck their spears into the air. "The Jedi! The Jedi! They carry their fire swords, see? See?" they shouted to each other. "The Jedi have returned to bring us the Great Change! They have come back at last!"
The three Jedi exchanged another glance and held a brief counsel, huddling close together. "Looks like the Jedi are still popular," Ascera said without preamble.
"They hold the Jedi in high regard," De-Lanna observed. "This may prove advantageous. They may be inclined to help us, since we're Jedi."
"Then I'll ask them about the Temple," Ran said. He declared the creatures, "We are of the Ones Who Came Before, the Jedi. I wish to know about the Jedi Temple that was built here."
A great solemn silence struck the humanoids, and they looked at him almost reverently. "The Jedi have come back to take their own," they solemnly replied with the hint of ritual, "We welcome the Jedi back, and will aid you in whatever way we can."
The humanoids led the party into their village. Carson and Borworken handled their blasters with the readiness of men who were ready to draw on a moment's notice. Ascera tried to calm them, but the battle-hardened mercenaries refused to be placated, even by the primitive lifestyle of their hosts. De-Lanna and Ran strode boldly ahead, both bearing their lightsabers on their belts with dignified airs. If the Jedi were truly respected on this ice world, then the display would only serve them to advantage.
The village was indeed simple, evoking a pastoral innocence amidst the white plains and frozen mountains. All around were excited children and awed adults, some staring, most just watching. "There's so many of them," De-Lanna murmured, "I've never seen such reverence in anyone's eyes before. Whatever the Jedi did before must have been truly remarkable."
Ran looked over at Ascera. The Twi'lek's own enthrallment with the Jedi mirrored the humanoids'. He felt comforted knowing that many, many others shared his friend's feelings. But he also knew that she felt doubt. Her face was drawn, concern glinting in the cool eyes. He knew the source of her uncertainty, and placed a reassuring hand upon her arm. "We are Jedi, Ascera," he said simply, seriously. "We may not be the old Order, but we are Jedi nonetheless. Whatever the old Order did for these people, we can too."
"Yes," she agreed, sounding like she was trying to convince herself. "Of course. We are akin to the Jedi of old. I have full confidence in our abilities." She offered him a forced smile, and that was the most he could hope for.
"I don't like where they're takin' us, Ran," Carson murmured from behind, "We know nothing about these aliens, but I'm guessin' that that hut they're bringin' us to ain't good for us." They were escorted to the wooden doors of the most majestic of the residences: a squat stone structure that was little more than a clay mound with branches for roofing. It seemed quaint and welcoming to Ran's eyes, and he sensed no danger or malice in the Force.
"Lighten up, Carson." The green-eyed Jedi strode confidently toward the clay house. "There's nothing to be afraid of here. Trust me."
"The last time you said that, the furball and I almost got eaten by a krayt dragon on Tatooine," the burly warrior countered sourly.
Ran just shrugged. "Look on the bright side—krayt dragons don't show up in the snow."
The wooden door opened and a thin-limbed old male stepped out, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Wrinkled and gray-skinned, with bony plates over his face that had lone since cracked and chipped to uselessness, the frail creature seemed truly ancient. But he radiated such calm assurance and wisdom that Ran felt weak in the knees, awed by his presence.
"You are Jedi," the old humanoid said in a shaky voice, his breath rattling in his small, withered chest. Ran blinked in surprise, and knew that his companions were similarly astonished. The old thing spoke Basic! "Yes, yes, your language I know. I learned it as it was learned by my father and his father and his father before. I am Zeth'Irak, Speaker of Many Tongues, and the last Speaker of my people, the Mathassar."
Ascera stepped forth and bowed respectfully before the aged alien; Ran, De-Lanna, and eventually even the mercenaries followed suit. "Master Zeth'Irak, we humbly thank you and your people for your hospitality. We came to investigate the Jedi Temple that was built on your world. As members of the Jedi Order, we felt it our duty to learn from the lore the old Masters undoubtedly left there."
Zeth'Irak simply nodded, as if this were already known to him. "I will aid you in whatever way I can, young Jedi. Come, enter my home, and let us discuss your quest for knowledge."
Minutes later, the party were seated cross-legged on threadbare rugs spread across a humble dirt floor, sipping at a hot, peppery gruel the diminutive Speaker offered them. Zeth'Irak knelt before them, his cane set across his legs. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. "I sense that you have many questions about your journey," he said with certainty.
Ascera, the nominal spokeswoman in affairs of diplomacy, replied, "Master Zeth'Irak, if I may. What can you tell us about this world and its people? Why did the Jedi come here in the first place? And what is this Great Change your people spoke of?"
Zeth'Irak chuckled. It was a wispy sound that reminded Ran of crackling paper. "Many questions indeed. We are the Mathassar, one of two dominant races upon our beloved world of Mathassi. We are artists, who teach moderation and humility. These qualities were attractive to the Jedi who visited us, and was one of the reasons why they shared their teachings with us."
"You have a Jedi tradition?" De-Lanna interrupted, surprised and intrigued. Ran, too, was astonished. He had a hard time envisioning the smallish beings in Jedi robes.
The Mathassar shook his head. "Our tradition died long ago; the Force runs thin in our blood." He sipped of his gruel. "The tale of the Mathassar and the Jedi begins two thousand years ago. Back then, our people had not heard of the Jedi or the Republic. In those days, the forests were even more lush, and the ice whiter than the stars. Many Mathassar lived, loved, and died in serenity and happiness. But then came the Angel from Heaven."
Zeth'Irak's wrinkled face drew down in sorrow. "The Angel from Heaven appeared before the Quelsar, our warlike cousins and the other dominant race of Mathassar. He wielded lightning and magic, sorcery and strange enchantments. And he carried a weapon of blazing fire."
"A dark Jedi?" Ran asked wonderingly.
The Speaker nodded grimly. "He was more than that, I fear. He called himself Darth Malice."
"Darth?" the three Jedi intoned in shock.
"The fearsome warrior from the heavens, a demon among demons, was Darth Malice, the demon and the Dark Lord of the Sith. He came and went to the Quelsar. They, in their desire to conquer Mathassi, accepted his vile teachings. Many became dark Jedi themselves, wielding the blazing fireswords of Malice's tutelage. War erupted throughout the ice plains, and many Mathassar died under burning blades and mystic sorcery. But then the Jedi Knights came.
"The Jedi, in pursuit of the demon, found our people at war with the Sith-trained Quelsar. Led by Dalaan Norsh, they fought back and won many victories. They even trained some of our brightest children in the ways of the Jedi. Soon, our people wielded the fireswords that could cut through mountains. With the help of the Jedi, we turned back the dark hordes and sealed them in their valley behind the mountains, where they hide to this day.
"But Jedi Norsh and his fellow Knights were not finished. They hunted down Darth Malice to the demon's foreboding castle, where they did battle with him. Though many Jedi perished in the noble endeavor, Master Norsh emerged victorious, bringing with him the body of Darth Malice, preserved in a chamber of ice."
"Chamber of ice?" Carson wondered.
"Cryogenics, perhaps," said Ascera.
Zeth'Irak continued his tale. "Jedi Norsh and his surviving comrades made to leave our lands, but before they did, he requested that the Mathassar he trained erect a grand Temple, one that would forever house and guard the body of the demon. In exchange, the Jedi would return to deliver us the Great Change—a fantastic transformation of our race, our prophesized ascendancy.
"For generations, the Mathassar Jedi upheld their vows and guarded the demon's physical form…until they all died, one by one. Old age and time claimed them, for even Jedi are not immortal. As the centuries wore on, the Force grew thinner and thinner among our kind, so there were no new Jedi to replace the guardians who passed away. Now, the Temple stand unattended, a place of taboo. None are allowed to venture there for fear of awakening the demon from his icy slumber."
Zeth'Irak ended his saga with another sip of gruel.
Ran saw that Ascera wiped a small tear from her eyes; he could feel her in the Force, feel how moved she was by the story of the old Order's noble deeds. He squeezed her shoulder, fully understanding the effect this was having on her.
"Master Zeth'Irak," Ran ventured, taking over as spokesman, "why did the demon—Darth Malice—come to Mathassi in the first place?"
"Jedi Norsh told our ancestors that the demon sought a nexus of energies that lay on our planet." The Speaker shrugged. "We know nothing of such things, but Jedi do not lie. If you wish to learn more, then make your way up the northern mountains. There you will find the Jedi Temple, untouched for two millennia. It is a sacred place of mysteries to us, for no Mathassar has ever set foot upon its hallowed grounds. All I ask is that once you have learned what you came to learn, you will uphold the promise of the Jedi and give us our Great Change."
"We will do what we can," the green-eyed Jedi promised sincerely. "We are not the Jedi of the old Order, but as Jedi, we give you our word to help bring about the Great Change."
