As I walked down the corridors to the commander's office, I worried why I had been ordered to meet him at seventeen hundred. I had been out of the unit for two months trying to complete my Jedi training as a padawan, and I was glad to be back. I was disappointed that my master, Jedi Master Feind, had not thought me ready for the designation of Jedi. I had come back to complete the training that I had nearly finished as a youth, but two grueling months and all that I had received as accolades was acknowledgment that I had greatly improved my strength in the Force. I couldn't really bargain with Master Feind when he was training me, but a concession I had gotten out of him was allowing me to have some of my lessons in the Force be in conjunction with flight time, so I would still have my flying skills in peak condition when I went back to my squadron.
He summoned me to his ritual meditation spot, and when I had been expecting to gain the title that demands respect, I got a reproach. I had to go through the calming ritual two times to quell the despair that arose when I heard, "Good job, but you are not a Jedi yet. Go back to your fighter squadron and wait for instructions," from Master Feind. All the grueling mental strain that I had endured from not only the exercises, both mental and physical, and the amount of time required, because I don't like having to wait and Master Feind only taught when he wanted to, apparently worked out for nothing.
That is why I was unhappy, but proud to be back where I belonged. When I entered the commander's office, I was greeted with a shower of confetti and a loud, "Surprise!"
"What's the celebration for?" I queried, realizing that all of the squadron was in the room, "I didn't achieve the title of Jedi as I wanted."
"That is because the appointment should be with friends, not alone with your mentor and the Council, you inexperienced fool!" a familiar voice sounded from the back.
"Master Feind! I thought you were at the temple. Why are you here? I thought that I had failed to-." I exclaimed, not hearing what he said.
"Impatient as always. Maybe I shouldn't appoint you Jedi," he joked, "but you've worked too hard, and have never had a chance to learn that in cases such as yours, we try to have the ceremony performed among friends. The Council simply bestows the title to you, looking at you as an apprentice who finally finished his training." Master Feind then gave me the greatest announcement of my life up until then, "Apprentice Trictop, by judgement of the Jedi Council, you are now to be called Jedi. Let's get this party started! I smell thesera! Oh there it is," a plate floated up from the refreshment table, and he took a sampling of the dish, "Umm, this is good stuff!" I heard him say as he drifted off to the back. As he moved from the center of attention, everybody started to mingle. Terwtwer, dasfaee, jesseot, and weryther! All my favorite foods and drinks had been made. My favorite band, the Pert Pallows, were playing live! Throughout the party everybody attached to our squadron from the support staff to the squadrons we typically flew with came and gave me congratulations for my achievement. After everyone had given me their regards for becoming a Jedi, I started catching up on what had happened while I was training at the Temple.
Recent rumors were that the clones coming from a particular Clone Master were unstable. This could have been that those particular clones were grown too fast, but that was unlikely, because everybody knew of the dangers of growing a clone too fast. Due to my isolation at the Temple, I had missed the reports of clones going insane and attacking. People were getting worried that more psychotic clones could be on the loose. Some were speculating that the Jedi would have to become involved. Well into the party, Master Feind motioned to talk to me.
"Beware the Dark Side. I have foreseen that troubled times are ahead. The Dark Forces are rising and gaining strength. Only use the Force for knowledge and defense, never out of fear of aggression. Remember your training and you will do well. May the Force be with you, Jedi Tricitop," he warned, the last time I saw him ever. He was gone before I could reply.
My commander also wanted to speak to me, but his message was far less dire, and just as much a pleasant surprise as Master Feind's announcement that I had in fact attained Jedi status. He informed me that I had been promoted to Lieutenant and become a Flight Leader. I gave such a cheer at this news that for a moment everyone at the party looked at me in silence in response to my reaction. I told them the news and everyone laughed, the commander had already told them after Master Feind had contacted him and said I was coming back. The pace of the party resumed and I partook in some of the dancing and enjoyed a few of the songs, while I just reveled in being back a part of the family.
I never had really enjoyed the Temple because all the Apprentices were so reflective and young that I couldn't really fit in with them. Most of those my age were already Jedi, and the rest didn't have anything in common with me so the Temple was a lonely place for me and the environment of the squadron was a refreshing change.
In the middle of a song, the commander walked up to the band and they stopped playing. He then took the microphone and his announcement still echoes in my ears, "Attention! I have received news that a group of clones has turned and are attacking using fight and hyp strategies. We have been ordered to make rendezvous with the Clone Master who produced the clones. Intelligence has no idea if this is an isolated group or if it is the leading edge in a galaxy-wide conspiracy. Move it! All pilots to their fighters! This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill! We are going in hot."
The squadron became a flurry of activity. Changing from party clothes to flight suits, final inspections, preflight startup, all done with greatest efficiency. Everyone from the flight crews to the pilots worked together like a well oiled machine. The two months absence evaporated in an instant, and immediately I was back to doing everything required with such practiced ease that thought was not required. We launched fifteen minutes after the commander alerted us to the situation, formed up and then jumped into hyperspace ready for anything at the rendezvous. We had originally been formed as the Green squadron, but due to our responsiveness, and the fact that we seemed to be able to predict the opponents' responses like Jedi, we were named the "Sabers." Passing on through the chain of command, the executive officer told me to pass on that this was going to be a cooperative effort, and that the other three squadrons based with us were going to fly with us.
Our squadron dropped back out of hyperspace and encountered a scene of complete chaos. We were a bit faster than our support squadrons, so we were the first on the scene. Fighters everywhere were attacking a yacht, and support fighters that had to have been based on the yacht. For some reason, I felt this strange pressure in my mind. Trying to figure why I felt it, I remembered a time when I had encountered clones who were working. I called out over the comm-system, "Watch out Sabers, those are clones fighting."
"Saber Leader to Saber Five, is this a Jedi thing or just running on your gut? Tell me why during debriefing. The Clone Master must be on that yacht. Sabers, engage," barked the commander. In combat he always sounded like he had just swallowed a ball covered in spines.
Following chain of command, I called out to my Flight, "Two Flight, stick with your wingman and engage!" The squadron quickly split into two fighter pairs, and made obvious to all observers why we had earned the name "Sabers." Since the battle had already dissolved into the chaos of individual dogfights, there was no formation head to head confrontation. Individual dogfights are wrestling matches in space. It's just you and your fighter against one enemy and his fighter. The fight is just a one on one, and if you run into trouble, everybody else is likely to be so involved themselves that there is no there to help you. The clones were the best pilots that could be grown, so it rapidly became a fight where the weak were weeded out and only the strong are left to battle.
I engaged the enemy, and my wing, Saber Six, stuck like glue. I had a slight edge because of the Force. I could tell what maneuvers the clones were going to do. Unfortunately, with as good as the clones were, that slight warning was only good enough to keep me from getting blasted. I slipped further into the Force, and finally was able to get the clone. I came out of the trance and the tunnel vision that is experienced with using the Force and heard my wing screaming that he had a tail, and that he couldn't shake him. I found him in all of the chaos through the Force. I switched all discretionary power to engines. I barely made it in time. I fired a burst of my lasers at maximum range just to distract the clone. The clone, realizing that I was a much greater danger to him than my wing, then focused his attack on me, but not before damaging Six. I ordered Six to return to Base because if he remained, all he would do is get himself killed. I had just informed the commander when the clone targeted a range blast.
The blast missed, but it shook me up and brought my mind back to the reality of the situation. Blanking out all other distractions of the real world, I set my attention to the job at hand and engaged the clone in the ancient aerial ballet of death, the dogfight. The game of hunter and prey was repeatedly switched. He and I both were using all our experience to box the other in a trap that ended in a fatal blast. Every maneuver that I had learned or seen was like a minor diversion to him, but it was a battle of titans because just as I could not gain an advantage over him, he could not gain an advantage over me. Out of desperation I tried a trick I had performed in flight school. It had prompted a warning and a glimmer of respect from my teachers in its completion. It was dubbed the Swish Slash, but no one outside of the teachers examining me that day know about it because of how it pushes the fighter to beyond its safety limits. If the fighter experiences a malfunction in the middle of it, the best the pilot can hope for is to be disabled and it is more likely to destroy the fighter and kill the pilot. As I said, it's the most dangerous maneuver I can think of, but I was desperate. The pilot starts the maneuver by pushing his fighter to full thrust, as if to run from the opponent. This quickly is transformed into a tight roll that when half completed is stopped and switched to a corkscrew barrel roll. The trail is thus at full trust trying to follow. The lead pilot then cuts all thrust and applies reverse thrust. The lead thus essentially stops and causes the tail to overshoot the lead changing the roles of the hunter into the hunted. My tail was in my sights long enough to allow me a shot, that with guidance from the Force, vaporized the clone in his fighter.
I had just eliminated the clone when I scanned for squad mates. I don't know what happened to the others in my Flight because only I survived. I looked at my scope, and I realized that while the number of enemies had dwindled, so had the number of allies, including everyone from my Flight except my wing and me. Since I had sent him back to Base, this left me alone in a hot zone with out somebody to look after my six.
I pushed this knowledge aside for latter assimilation, but it still left me hollow. I don't remember the rest of the battle because I gave up trying to just pilot and gave in completely to the Force. Through its calm guidance, the rest of the battle became a blur of acquiring an enemy, tracking it down, and eliminating it as a threat. All I know is that I was exhausted and trembling when I finally came out of it.
It was all over, the clones had been routed, but with heavy losses. I wasn't given time to reflect because as soon as it was all clear, a voice nearly drowned out with static called out from the void, "Saber squadron, you are clear to dock in the main hanger."
I wasn't the only one worn out from the battle, because after we got clearance to land, the commander croaked out, "Well, form up. Saber Five you are now have Saber Eleven as wing. Saber Four you have Saber Nine as wing. Time to roost." With that we got in escort formation and entered the hold. As we exited our cockpits, we were greeted by a squad of clones. They were obviously clones because they had exactly the same face. The lead clone informed us that we were to meet with the Clone Master. He guided us through a maze of bulkheads and blast doors to the Clone Master's quarters. Inside was a massing of material wealth I have seen nowhere else. As I peered in, it was as if there was a mound of emotional dung defiling all of the visible beauty. At the center was the Clone Master. He was shriveled, like he had been trapped in the Tatooine desert for days to allow the fluids to be sucked out of him. Though none of the others in the squadron was able to notice, I felt as if I was in the presence of a great evil. I hid my revulsion out of fear for my comrades. I had heard rumors during my training at the Temple of a Sith uprising, and I feared I was in the presence of a disciple of the evil sect.
"Thank you for saving my ship and my life. I am in great debt to you. Those crazed clones almost succeeded in destroying both," he spewed. Each word was as if a piece of refuse was being hurled at my mind. "I was on my way to a Senate hearing. If you would kindly disembark, I could continue on my way. If I need an escort, I will ask."
"Of course. If you need an escort, just ask," echoed the commander. His eyes were glazed over, but I dared not do anything because I dared not interfere with my commanding officer's decisions.
Out of desperation I voiced my advice, "Commander, I recommend we head back to Base. Everyone is exhausted, and we need to rest." This sparked a reaction out of him and he seemed to come back to life.
"Of course, Lieutenant. Sorry, Clone Master Weriop, but my squadron must go back to Base," he intoned, still slightly off center. We were then escorted back to our ships, without incident, but I couldn't shake the feeling of danger narrowly avoided hanging around my head. The rest of the trip back to Base was uneventful. I did send a message back to Master Feind that he should investigate the Clone Master Weriop. I then settled back and tried to enjoy the relaxation of the next few weeks, but between the realization of lost mates and the foreboding sense of doom that came whenever I thought about the Clone Master, the only peace I could achieve came from flying and working with the Force.
Weeks later, my commander asked for me to come into his office. From the tone of his voice I knew the news was bad, but nothing in my wildest fears came close to preparing me for the horror of my commander's words. He inserted a datacard into a holoplate and activated it. A scale replica of Yoda, head Jedi Master of the Council then recited its prerecorded message. My Master Feind had taken my advice and investigated the Clone Master Weriop as I had requested. What he learned of Weriop was not known, because as he investigated Weriop, he was killed during a visit to Weriop's private fortress. This action generated a large amount of fear. Yoda himself had ordered a full investigation of Weriop, to see if he indeed had connections to the Sith. I had been the only Jedi who had had the chance of meeting with Weriop and my services were required. With the message complete, the image of Yoda scattered.
"I'm sad to have to let you go, and even sadder of your loss, but if the suspicions of you and the other Jedi are correct, and this is a matter of the Sith rising again, I have to let you go. I remember stories of the Sith War my mother told me as a child, and I will do anything to prevent that from happening again. Lieutenant, pack your bags. From now on you're just Jedi Tricitop. Jedi matters are more important than the work you do for me," he forced out. With that farewell, I was transported to Courscant to meet with the other Jedi who would make up the team.
There was Preg, the most senior of all of us. He was tall, with dark hair, and piercing eyes. Looking at him, for those sensitive to the Force, was like starring at the sun. No one knew what happened in his past, but it obviously had forced him to become strong in the Force. He was strong with telekinesis, and had the much rarer ability of being able to use the Force to instill in his opponent's mind an illusion.
His best friend and second in command on the mission, was Othou. Othou was a shy individual with sincere hazel eyes. As in a binary system, the two stars balance each other with their gravitational pull, Preg and Othou balanced each other with their strength in the Force. Othou's species was almost human, but he had four arms, allowing for delicate manipulation in all directions. He was the pilot for the mission, and the extra arms allowed him to function as both pilot and copilot in his personalized frieghter. Few other organisms could use it because the control boards were directly opposite of each other.
Even more secretive than Preg was Quath, the third member of our team. Quath had a natural ability with mechanics. It could be anything from a hyperdrive unit to a simple pulley system and he could repair it. He had been born with a birth defect that left his arms undeveloped, but had been provided with prosthetic arms that allowed for micro-movement control. When I had originally been at the Temple, I had accidentally gotten lost and had stumbled into one of his meditation sessions. I had heard rumors that he was to be feared, but instead I found that he was a kind spirit who simply requested privacy.
Finally, there was me closing out the group. I had the most varied of the Force skills, but I also was the most inexperienced. I had strong skills in telekinesis, illusion, persuasion, and even some latent ability in the lost skill of battle meditation. Under extreme pressure, I could sometimes channel energy through me and strengthen my weak skills. My strongest skill and possibly most powerful was the ability to sense danger early. I had also developed a skill with slicing computers, but that came from me having spent years outside of the Jedi. Even with all my skills, because of my inexperience, the only reason I had been brought along was I had come face to face with the evil that we hunted.
"Ok, Tricitop, listen up. We've got a long way to go and when we get there, anything could happen. I want you to rest up and make sure your lightsaber is charged, I don't want to have it fizzle out just when we need it. And like I said, get some sleep, it's a life saver in battle," explained Preg.
"Look, I may not be a veteran Jedi, but I am a veteran fighter pilot. I know that the most important thing to a warrior is sack time," I retorted. Everybody looked down on me as if I was a child. So what if I hadn't had that much experience in action with the Force. I still was a Jedi and I had gotten experience as a fighter pilot.
Quath motioned for me to sit and talk with him, "Tricitop, don't mind Preg, he's just treating you like he treats all Jedi who come to work under him for the first time. He knows that you are a veteran of battle, but he gives everyone the same lecture. New guys just get it more publicly, to impress upon you the seriousness of what we will do here." I still was hot under the collar, but having the rebuke come from Quath, to whom I had nominal ties, made it much more manageable than it would have been coming from Preg.
"Ok, Quath, I'll take it. I just wish I knew more about him. He's just so damn secretive!"
"Don't worry about Preg, he's just got secrets from his past that shouldn't be brought out. He just likes his privacy." For the rest of the trip there I simply made sure that my lightsaber skills were as good as I could get them and slept.
I was in the middle of a nap when over the inter-com came Othou. "Everybody! Get your seatbelts on! We may hit nasties, and I don't want to have to scrape your ugly carcass off my ceiling, so buckle-up. Preg, you man the dorsal gun. Quath, you get the port side, and Tricitiop, you get starboard. Don't power up your guns unless I tell you to, but if I do, look for enemy. We are going for an intrusion here, not a pitched battle. I saw the reports as to what those clones were able to do in their craft. Now button up."
It seemed like eternity before anything happened, but it was like the sky suddenly started raining enemies. "Look out everybody, bogies incoming port side! Looks to be about two squadrons," screamed Quath, as my danger sense flared. That was all the warning any of us got. I powered up and suddenly we were in the middle of their formation. Considering the friend to foe ratio, this was actually the safest place for us, their misses would be in danger of hitting themselves. I opened up, but these were even better than the ones that I had flown against the first time. They had better reactions, and knew their fighters better than any I had flown against. Calming myself, I sank fully into the Force. All senses were amplified and diminished at the same time. And through it all, I could feel the sinkhole of evil that had to be Weriop. A fighter came across my part of sky, and seemed to almost be going slow motion. Pulling the trigger, the blasts of light flew out and intersected with the clone. What was started as an ambush, ended as a slaughter. The clones, though experienced and extremely able, were no match for the combined abilities of four Jedi. No ordinary human can match the reflexes of a Jedi with the Force as his ally. A clone, thinking he was out of range of one sphere of danger, would fly straight into the blast of another. Preg, Quath, Othou, and I linked as one through the Force. As quickly as it started, the battle was over. The only proof that there had been a battle was the debris of two dozen craft.
"We've met the welcome party. Guess it's time to get answers from the Clone Master. Othou, don't bother with stealth, just find a spot to land and do it. Give us time to offload and then disembark yourself. Set the ship for shoot-back. Come on guys, let's do it and go home," ordered Preg. The controlled inflection stated as clear as words how he had earned his role as our leader. The ship shook as it screamed through the atmosphere. No more ships were launched, but I could feel the danger as we touched ground. I could tell no troops were near the ship, which made me more nervous than if we had been surrounded. No troops meant the commander didn't want to tip his hand as to what he had available. We went down the ramp with lightsabers ignited.
Preg's was a yellowish gold blade. Quath had a pink blade that attached to his hand so he didn't have to worry about being disarmed in battle. Othou had two lightsabers, one that had a silver blade and the other had purple, each could double length at the twist of the wrist. My lightsaber was the most unique and had the strangest functions. It was longer than a normal handle by about six inches and had two buttons. It started out with an emerald green normal length blade, but I made it with an option that can come in handy in the chaos of battle. In the middle of my handle is a switch. I could turn this switch and the handle would spit in two and I could then have two lightsabers that were about a foot long. One had an indigo color and the other was navy blue. It was extremely difficult to build, but I felt the advantage earned by having two lightsabers available was worth the effort.
We entered the fortress expecting entrenched forces. Instead we found empty hallways. We advanced, each step anticipating an ambush. At every intersection, the feeling of danger grew more and more intense. The knowledge that the enemy was out there ultimately hindered us. Without warning, the wall in front of us disappeared and a squad of clones opened fire. Strangely, we couldn't sense the clones through the Force. Our inability to sense the clones canceled our ability to block their shots.
"Retreat! I repeat, retreat! We can't hold them off indefinitely. Go anyway you can! I got rearguard," commanded Preg. I knew he was sacrificing himself to save us, but there was no other way. Othou, Quath, and I took off at a dead run while Preg blocked the clones. I ran and I ran taking any passage that offered itself. When I was too tired to run further, I realized that I was alone in what appeared to be a control room. I looked at the displays and found where Quath and Othou had ended up. I then saw that they were walking into a trap that would end up with them surrounded.
I switched on my comlink and screamed, "Stop! It's a trap! Get out of there! You're surrounded by clones!" but it was too late. Just as I was calling in the comlink the clones opened fire. Within seconds the icons that represented my friends disappeared. The weight of the galaxy descended on my shoulders as I realized it was up to me to fulfill the mission.
I wrapped the Force around me like a cloak to prevent anyone from noticing me. I slinked from corridor to corridor, trying to get closer to the presence that was like a trash compactor's stench in my mind. Always like a mouse, hiding in the shadows hoping to remain undiscovered. I seemed to have been overlooked because with each patrol that passed, instead of the feeling that comes with pursuit, I sensed a feeling of boredom that comes with having to be on alert for an attack that never comes.
Whereas I was trying to minimize my Force presence, Weriop was like a beacon. I had no problem locking on to his position, the trouble was to get there undetected. Strangely, the closer I came to Weriop, the more infrequent the patrols. It was as if the clones could sense Weriop's evil, and desired to stay as far away as possible.
I fortified myself as I walked down the corridor that I knew had to lead to Weriop's chambers. He was like an evil pulsar as close as I was and it was nearly overwhelming. I ignited my lightsaber and keyed the door activator. I felt as if I had been whisked back to the first time I had met Weriop, back on his yacht. There he was, sitting in the middle of mounds of visual wealth, but I saw not what came through visual senses. All I could sense was the evil that had permeated the room.
"Clone Master Weriop, I have come with my fellow Jedi to take you to the Jedi Council to face charges of killing my Master, Jedi Master Feind, and my comrades on this venture, the Jedi Preg, Othou, and Quath. I have permission to use any force necessary to attain our mission. You will surrender and allow yourself to be locked in a cell that prevents usage of any control you have over the Force. Any actions that I disapprove of will result in pain on your part. Will you surrender peaceably?" I commanded, overlaying subtle Force mind tricks. All I got in response was a cackle.
"Stupid Jedi! I have dealt with your friends with ease. How do you think a novice like you can command a Master like myself? You are the one who will surrender or suffer the consequences." Then to my surprise he drew out a lightsaber of his own, "You will face pain and torture. Just when you think it could not possibly get worse, I will increase the level, and you will look to death as a friend."
Without warning, he ignited and attacked. He had a ruby colored lightsaber, and I feared what personal modifications he had made. He was well trained, and even with the Force as my ally, I was fighting a losing battle. I was reluctant to reveal the tricks I had included in my lightsaber because as he was Sith trained, his modifications would be different from any I had ever seen.
"You are trained Jedi, but nothing you have learned can compare with the Dark Side. How else do you think I was able to defeat your overrated Master, Feind? I played with him by inflicting only disabling wounds. I had wanted to learn what weaknesses the Jedi had, but all I learned before he impaled himself on my lightsaber is that the Jedi are trying to investigate outside the galaxy. Something called the Outbound flight. My master was pleased with the information, but punished me for allowing Feind to kill himself. I won't make the same mistake with you!" He emphasized this with a powerful slash. At the same time he twisted his handle and his blade doubled in length. I refused to respond because I knew I would lose if he saw how his mental attacks were wounding me.
In my mind, a voice called that I had expected to never hear again, "Tricitop, remember your lessons. This imposter is just trying to cloud your mind and weaken you by opening you to the Dark Side. Don't give in to anger. I gave myself to the Force to protect you and the Jedi. Calm yourself and let the Force flow." My contact with Feind had little effect with the physical battle I was waging, but emotionally I was refreshed. The Force flooded through me, and I sensed that now was the time to use my secret. I triggered the separator on my lightsaber and the locks withdrew. Feind guided my hands as I used the surprise Weriop experienced to deflect his blade with my left blade, and ducked in and slashed him from thigh to shoulder.
Weriop fell to the ground with two wet thuds. I stood over him to counter any tricks he could engage before he died, but he just lay there and stared into my eyes.
"You were good Jedi, but my master is better. His time for secrecy is over, and he is in a position that he can eliminate the Jedi from the galaxy. I was just his pawn. Remember it when you die that I will laugh at your ignorance for all eternity," he gasped with his last breath. As he died and his presence left to the Netherworld, he seemed to shrivel and shrink from what he had appeared to be.
With Weriop dead, his clone patrols gave me no issue. Most were in a state of chaos, and the rest were glad he was gone. They assisted my escape, and informed me of the mistake that had happened. The clones that my squadron had eliminated were a secret group trying to rebel and extinguish the danger he presented. They knew we had killed them out of ignorance. I offered passage for the clones, but they declined, and I hurried to the Jedi Council. Weriop could have been lying, but I sensed that there was danger in our future, no matter what the source.