Chapter Four

Giinkar hung in space, a deep blue ball peppered with staccato islands across the surface of the globe. The sleek Jedi Starfighter jumped out of hyperspace near the oceanic world, slicing through the atmosphere as it prepared to descend towards the capital island Tenaax.

"Jedi Starfighter Ivrin to Tenaax Flight Control requesting permission to land," Saria announced through the transceiver. "Tenaax Flight Control, please respond!"

"Why do they not answer?" Tatl asked calmly. Saria shook her head and concentrated on the island below.

"I don't know…I'm sensing…fear, and malevolence on the island below."

"I guess that means we are not welcome," Tatl responded with a twinkle in her eye. Saria was about to respond in kind when the proximity alert began chiming impatiently. "Master!" Tatl shouted, "We are being fired on!" Saria whirled to check her screen just in time to see two missiles streaking through the stratosphere towards the small ship. Without even thinking, she yanked them out of the way and the two self-guided weapons collided together in the sky, mere meters from the right wing.

They barely had time to catch their breath when two more were launched from the planet below. Several panels chimed warnings at them as Saria piloted them on twisting loops to try to confuse the weapons' guidance systems, but the next two were not that easy to shake off.

"These ones are smarter," Tatl observed, "It's as if they are learning your maneuvers."

"Giinkar does specialize in weaponry," Saria groaned as she banked them in another impossible turn. Tatl felt her stomach lurch within her as the G-forces pinned her to her seat and made the roof of the cockpit closely resemble the floor. "Hang on, Tatl," Saria assured her, "we're getting out of here." Aiming out of the atmosphere into open space, she was about to bring up the hyperdrive for a short jump when suddenly the entire ship jolted violently, causing them to be tossed around like limp dolls.

"We're hit, Master!" Tatl exclaimed. The young girl, despite all her training, sounded positively terrified. As the ship began to nose-dive, Saria did everything she could to level out the decent, so that at least it would be a controlled crash.

"Tatl," she struggled to keep her voice calm and even. "We are going to hit the water." As she said this, she unbuckled her safety belt, motioning for her to do the same. "When we come within a hundred meters of the surface I will open the hatch, and we will dive as far away from the ship as we can." Tatl nodded shakily and swallowed. She quickly began to stuff her utility pouch with emergency rations, and seeing this, Tatl followed suit. The window showed the rapid progression of their decent, and before she knew it, the hatch was blown, and almost in slow motion, both she and her Padewan were diving into an alien ocean, with no sign of land in sight.

Several seconds later, she hit the water, rebreather clamped firmly between her teeth, and eyes shut tightly against the salt water. Dully, she felt the ship crash into the water somewhere behind her, close enough to be felt, but far enough away to be a safe distance. She reached out desperately for any sign in the force of her Padewan, but felt nothing.

There was a long, frightening moment when her disorientation skewed her sense of direction, and words like 'up' or 'down' were meaningless. Fortunately for the rebreather, she didn't have the peril of running out of oxygen. She calmly waited, floating under the waves in an inexplicable calmness, until her brain caught up with her, and her senses finally told her where the surface of the ocean was. Several minutes later, she broke the surface, ripping the rebreather out of her mouth and stuffing it into her utility pouch.

"Tatl!" she cried out as loud as she could, even calling on the force to project her voice further than it would have. "Tatl!" Behind her, the last piece of ship gurgled the release of its final air bubbles and sank into the depths. The momentary distraction was enough to calm her fears for her student, and when she went back to her attempts to find her, it was more methodical, using logic and the Force.

Treading water, she closed her eyes and reached out into the Force, feeling it around her like another great ocean, one of tranquility and peace. She searched as far as possible in every direction, but could find no trace of her Padewan. "No," she moaned, trying again to no avail. Despair began to slowly creep into her heart, but she swiftly and decisively cut it off.

Looking around herself, all she saw was ocean. Quickly, the survival instinct that had been ruthlessly ingrained in her since infancy took over and she began to take stock of her situation. She reckoned she had roughly enough rations to last her a week – a week and a half if she stretched it. Her lightsaber was waterlogged and useless, as was her personal comm. Other things in her utility pouch were useful, provided one was on land. "Great," she sighed.

Then the waves of grief washed over her, knowing that surely her Padewan must be dead. The Jedi are taught to form no attachments, to let go of things that pass out of their lives. The Rangers, however, walk the fine line between the darkness and the light – they have no such restrictions on their emotions, they use them to strengthen their Force-connection, carefully avoiding the seductive call of the dark side. It is this that makes them such unbeatable warriors, but it can also be hell when one looses a dear friend.

"Tatl," she moaned to herself. She did not let the grief own her, however. She grabbed it with her inner hand, studied it, and made it her own, but would not let it rule her. If she did, she would likely follow her apprentice into the Force. Looking up, she caught the slight ripple in the Force of their ion trail and found her direction. After taking one last long look around her in the Force for her Padewan, she reluctantly began to swim towards land.

General Berjiim looked on the monitor that showed the crash site. He wasn't stupid. He knew those had been Jedi he'd shot down – it couldn't have been that easy.

"Commander," he barked at the figure scrutinizing the readouts on another screen. "I want a search party sent to find the survivors."

"But sir," he stammered, "no one could survive such a- "

"Find the survivors."

"Yes, General."