Jaster grunted under the weight of the heavy cargo-trex container; lifting it with effort up to his armored chest and trudging awkwardly up the ramp to the Academy cruiser's tiny cargo compartment in the cramped spaceship's interior corridor. Azekel followed him up the metal walkway; carrying his box easily to place it next to Mereel's with an effortless toss. Jaster nearly jumped before he realized the cargo-trex container had floated gently down next to his own. Jakome gave him a patronizing smile.
"You are gifted with the force, apprentice," He said, patting him on the shoulder as two more of the heavy containers floated up the ramp behind them to join the rest in orderly rows. "It would be a shame not to put that gift to use."
Minutes later the small stack of supplies and tools the Jedi would need had been transferred up to their tiny spaceship, and the Master and apprentice were ready to take off on their journey. Azekel joined Master Skywalker and one or two other of the Jedi high council, while Jaster slipped away to Lena, who waited patiently but with some anguish near the droid deck on the Temple's main hangar deck. Renak, having already said his brief goodbye to his roommate, waited impatiently on the nearby elevator.
"I'll be gone maybe two weeks, tops." Jaster began, seeing the girl's long face.
"I don't care how long it'll be, I just care that you come back, in one piece!" she replied, not comforted by his words.
"Hey, you've seen first hand what I can do to those lousy Sith; as long as Jakome over there doesn't get in my way, I should be able to handle anything they've got to throw at me!" Lena cringed; she remembered what Jaster had shown himself capable of, though it was obvious she wishes she hadn't, even though he had saved her life, probably. Azekel, as if sensing his apprentice's remark, turned briefly to frown at the two before returning to nod emphatically and reassuringly to his superiors.
"If anything happens, you must listen to Master Jakome, Jaster," She pleaded, as usual taking his sarcasm and bravado too heart, "He knows so much more about the Sith and how to deal with them, if you run off and do something stupid …"
"That's not going to happen, Le-le." Mereel got serious, "According to whatever those eggheads over there have planned, Jakome and I are on stealth recon detail; we should never have to even come near any Sith. We're just going to try to lock onto the signal of that getaway ship and nose around any systems it might have come near, try to weed out any planets the Sith might be hiding on, then come back here to report. The big guys will handle the real dirty work. This is a milk run, I promise."
"I know that's what they say, but what if something happens? What if you get ambushed or something? With the landing site they found off campus grounds so clearly marked it's a wonder they didn't draw a map for you!" Mereel thought about that for a second, his long hair blowing slightly in the gust of air released by the cruiser's cargo ramp mechanism.
"With the amount of Jedi following that last guy out, and with what happened to his buddies before him on his mind, it's a wonder the Sith-scum was even able to work the controls. I'm sure we'll be fine." He reasoned, comforting the woman somewhat, "Besides; Jakome and me have got a certain chemistry; I'm sure we'll do fine out there as long as he keeps his big mouth shut!" He laughed, happy to see Lena crack a smile; brief though it was.
"Jaster!" Azekel's voice called out over the increasingly loud hum of the cruiser's engines. The Mandalorian looked back to see the Jedi Masters dispersed and the Knight waiting on the steps to the cockpit impatiently. "No time like the present."
Mereel turned back to Lena, leaning in quickly to peck her on the cheek curtly, and went to go off for the ship. She grabbed his arm and turned him back around.
"Goddamn it, Jaster!" She exclaimed, pulling him down to kiss her lips, "And don't forget your ridiculous helmet!" She concluded, thrusting the Mandalorian armor into his gloved hands. "Good luck."
He smiled in reply, and ran to join Azekel in the cockpit corridor, waving over his shoulder at Lena and Renak, who grinned back and shouted something Jaster couldn't catch, but knew to be typical of the Rodian as Lena frowned and punched him on the shoulder before returning to wave excitedly from the elevator.
"Smooth, slick." Jakome smirked, "Why with the helmet? Expecting a meteor storm?" The Mandalorian adjusted his helm proudly, the comfortable visor giving him instant readouts of room temperature, object distances, major heat readouts and even confirmation of his armor's weapons systems: a wrist-mounted blaster, knee-cap knock-out darts, another wrist-mounted grapple/trip wire, and an elbow-positioned rocket or two.
"This helmet," he explained in a haughty voice as he buckled into the co-pilot seat, is a proud weapon handed down to me by my proud people and it stands for a legacy of tenacity in combat, mercenary honor and the final craftsmanship of the Mandalore people." Jakome scoffed before his apprentice added, "plus, chicks love a man in armor."
Shortly after the Jedi Knight and his apprentice had settled into a pleasant discussion about Mandalore history, the apprentice allowing his Master almost unprecedented politeness as he explained the various markings and insignias on his worn yet sturdy chest plates and visor, which he had removed just after takeoff, and having checked the ship's vitals readings at least four times because he didn't quite trust the Jedi to maintain a truly standard ship; they relied too much on the mental state to enhance any material possessions.
"And what is that one for? I think I've seen it before." The Jedi Knight prodded curiously, turning a moment from the ship's outdated tracking system to poke the scratched metal emblem on his apprentice's shoulder brace.
"You probably have, either in books or in real life, if you'd ever been unfortunate enough to run into Boba Fett while he was still around." Mereel told him with solemnity, "It's the insignia of Fett's father's own clan of Mandalores, who fought most viciously in the wars before the race itself was nearly annihilated."
"Fett, eh? Perhaps Skywalker has mentioned that design before then; he is always wary when speaking of that bounty hunter; though I swear he's claimed the man still lives on several occasions." Mereel shrugged.
"It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. I've never met him, I am almost too young, but I've seen my fair share of impersonators. You can tell them by the obviously fabricated texture of their armor; they usually go for a thicker, stronger alloy, one of the new ones, rather than what Fett used, which was archaic by even Master Skywalker's childhood standards, but he made up for armor with sheer ferocity, I'm told." Jakome shook his head.
"He was a cold bastard, that's true." He agreed, "I'd give him more space than a drunk Tydorian star cruiser." Jaster laughed.
"Speaking of drunk Tydorian star cruisers …" And began telling his Master about that one time he ran afoul of the gambling circuit off the Erekine system.
Light years away, a low moan resounded off the walls of a vast, cavernous room somewhere deep under the ground of some planet. Footsteps where heard by ears sore from laying on cold, rough surfaces.
"What are you moaning about, you damned rebel?" demanded a low, growling voice, "You think it's time for his beating again, yet?" An invisible pair had walked up to the prone man. A booted foot kicked him roughly in the sides, and he coughed in the blackness.
"No more!" He croaked, "Please, please … kill me …" He begged, and he meant it, he realized, with an odd feeling. Months ago he'd been abducted, and darkness and sharp pain had been the only constant things in his life since that moment. He was living in hell, and he wanted to die.
"Why the hell are we keeping him around anyways?" Asked the first voice, "Look at him; he's coughing up blood! If we're looking for servants, let's at least get healthy ones!"
"You want to kill him?" Laughed the other voice, "I personally wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, who knows what diseases he's picked up down here?"
"I'm not going to touch him with any pole, I've got something better." The other voice cackled evilly, and a sudden crack and explosion of bright red light assaulted the man's senses; he saw the men standing above him in the eerie light of the lightsaber, and he turned feebly onto his back, pushing off the ground weakly with a shoulder to meet his fate. "Look! He wants to fight!" the laughter rang hideously off the high walls as the laser blade swung high and back over the hooded man's twisted and evil face.
"Fool!" Shouted a third voice, and the second captor leapt quickly away as a sickening buzz erupted next through the cavern and the first man with the lightsaber cried out terribly and fell to the earth next to the captive. A second red light illuminated a third form behind the would-be-killer.
"You would undermine the Master's orders, you useless weaklings!" the newcomer spat with an oddly metallic voice. "The Master wants this man alive, and we will keep him alive until we are told otherwise."
"Yes, sir." The second voice responded from somewhere high above. "Of course, sir."
"Good." Hissed the killer as he strode silently up to the captive, the lightsaber he held evaporating into complete darkness again as he spoke up again, "Now get down here and clean up this mess; I'm going to take this captive upstairs … it's his time for reeducation."
"Yes, sir!" replied the second man again, a pair of heavy boots thudding loudly on the stone ground somewhere off to the captive's right. A pair of rough hands grabbed him and he cried out piteously, his beaten arms flinching weakly against the impossibly strong grasp of the man who had just killed so that his suffering may continue.
"Stop struggling, you worthless rebel! You've been selected for the most prestigious reward we can give to the enemy; the opportunity to become born again!" The voice accompanied a rough strike to the man's skull, and the captive lost all consciousness as he perceived a distant thought flitter through his mind briefly before darkness … it was a name … his name … Mereel …