Chapter Two: The Code Is Wrong
He sat, cross-legged on the floor, in darkness. His eyes were closed, and he was concentrating. He intoned the words Master Gos had so long drilled into him.
"There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity."
A candle hovered ]above his head. Sweat stood out on his green skin as he focused on the wick, directing the molecules around the cotton. He had to resist an urge to force heat to it. Instead, he followed his Master's instructions. Nudging the surrounding molecules to gradually speed up, to create the heat of their own accord.
The candle lit.
"There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death…"
The floor shook, the walls rattled. His concentration was broken, and the candle fell onto him.
He cursed as his robe caught fire, shedding the garment and beating out the flames on the floor. Master Gos would scold him for such a spectacle.
But it wasn't his fault. He had been doing well, right up until…
The walls shook. He heard blaster fire, screams.
What was happening?
He tossed the burned robe back over his shoulders, grabbing his wooden practice blade as he moved toward the sound.
The first thing he saw were the bodies. The faces were those of people he knew. Some were fellow padawans, others were instructors. All twisted and lifeless.
A dark-robed figure pointed at him. "There's one!"
The voice was harsh, guttural. Black-robed figures came toward him, wielding lightsabers, with blades of crimson.
He took a defensive stance, holding his wooden training sword before him. He made his mind clear, as his Master always instructed.
The figures were coming from all directions, but they would not all reach him at the same time. The figure on his left was closest. He had one strategy – Disarm that man and take his lightsaber.
He would only get one chance, one swing of his pathetic wooden blade. He calculated the man's approach. It was heedless, careless. He was just a student, no threat. The race was not to surround him, but to see who would be first to claim his scalp.
He aimed his blow at the attacker's wrist, swinging as fast and hard as he could. The assailant cried out, the lightsaber dropped. He caught it its the shaft, bringing it up and cutting through his enemy in a single motion.
Not pausing, he turned to face the onslaught. They had been unprepared for his skill, and he cut his way through half of them before they retreated to regroup.
The survivors encircled him. Now they were organized. Now he was a threat.
He felt his lips draw back in a fierce grin as he held the red lightsaber in a defensive stance. Waiting to see whether they would be smart enough to close in together, or whether some brave soul among the enemy would move first.
It was the latter that occurred. A single robed figure lunged forward. The attacker was smart, and avoided signalling the move. He was forced to backpedal two steps. But the attacker was so focused on speed, control was forgotten. He sidestepped the lunge, then brought his lightsaber down on the back of the robed figure's neck.
The attacker's head dropped to the floor. He pushed at it with his mind, and the severed head rolled to the feet of the remaining enemies.
He adopted a defensive posture once more, waiting for them to make the next move. He was starting to enjoy this. He made a motion with his free hand, gesturing the group to come toward him.
This time, they came as one. But he was able to sense their attack, and he leapt over them. His lightsaber making quick work of the group. Seconds later, he was the only one left standing.
"Caecinius!" It was Master Gos's voice.
He looked up, saw his Master running toward him, directing Force blasts to enemies on all sides. The black-robed figures had been joined by others – Troopers in dark gray armor, some mercenaries, and Mandalorian bounty hunters.
Caecinius felt his heart slow as he realized for the first time what was happening. This was a Sith attack!
He and his Master were beside each other, back to back. They worked their lightsabers, cutting down the enemies around them, edging step by step toward the Temple's entrance.
A figure waited on the bridge that connected the Jedi Temple to the city. This man was different than the others. His robe was lined with scarlet. His hood was thrown back, and his angular face radiated arrogance.
The man's cold eyes took in the slaughter that surrounded the two Jedi. "You have done well. Would you do me the honor of single combat?"
The question was directed to Master Gos, who stepped forward.
"Allow my student to walk free," he said.
The Sith Lord inclined his head, a cold smile on his lips. "Agreed. So long as he does not attack me, or my men, he may pass unmolested."
He made a gesture. The Sith forces parted, creating a human passage.
Caecinius glanced at Gos. His Master nodded. "Go, Padawan," he urged. "This is my fight."
The student sheathed the lightsaber. He passed through the enemy rows. With each step, he expected treachery, braced himself for a fatal blow.
No such blow occurred. When he reached the end of the surrounding forces, he looked back to see Master Gos approaching the Sith Lord.
The two exchanged a formal bow.
"I am Master Gos of the Jedi Order," Caecinius' master stated.
"I am Darth Thanaton." The Sith Lord smiled thinly. "I will be your executioner."
Then their lightsabers activated, and the duel began.
They circled each other, each man testing the other's defenses. Master Gos was skilled, his movements expertly timed and absolutely controlled. Thanaton was equally adept, coldly deflecting every thrust and countering with probes and jabs of his own.
Then they went after each other in earnest, the two opponents assailing each other from all directions. Thanaton Force-lifted debris from the invasion, letting it rain down on Master Gos, who countered by diverting the debris back to Thanaton. The Sith Lord dodged, then lunged forward.
Master Gos saw the blow coming, tried to raise his lightsaber to deflect it. He was just a millisecond too slow. Thanaton's blade struck true, plunging into the Jedi's abdomen.
Caecinius heard the scream several seconds before he realized that it came from his own throat.
Thanaton's blade moved upward, splitting Gos' chest. Then he turned away, not even glancing back as his opponent as he crumpled to the floor.
"Disappointing," he murmured.
Caecinius ran toward his Master, heedless of his own safety. He clutched the lifeless body, weeping openly.
Thanaton made a motion to his men, who parted around him. Leaving him behind as an irrelevance.
Thanaton himself remained, extending a hand toward him. "Rise, young Jedi. Your tears can do him no good now."
Caecinius felt a surge of pure hatred. He reached for his lightsaber.
Thanaton made a gesture, and the weapon sprang into the Sith Lord's hand. He activated it. Now he held two blades, one in either hand.
Caecinius glared at him, braced himself for the finishing blow.
The Sith Lord knelt beside him.
"I made a promise to your Master," Thanaton told him. "You will not die today. But you are a student, are you not? I think I will leave you with a small lesson."
The Sith swung the lightsaber he had taken from Caecinius, halting its arc just short of the padawan's face. He made a cross with his own blade and the one he had just taken. Then he pushed the blades forward, so that they seared the surface of the young man's skin. His eyelids didn't so much as flicker as Caecinius howled in agony.
Thanaton stood, leaving the young man whimpering next to the body of his Master.
"Remember in future, boy," the Sith Lord sneered. "Never challenge an enemy unless you are prepared to defeat him."
He turned his back and withdrew
Unconsciousness threatened, but Caecinius fought it back. He would not lie here helpless. He struggled through the pain, drawing himself to his feet, pushing himself toward the exit.
As he stumbled out into the city, he saw that the destruction was not just confined to the Jedi Temple. The Sith and their allies were everywhere, firing on soldiers and civilians alike. Smoke and flames blocked out the sky. Enemy ships emerged from that smoke, firing at buildings - businesses, residences. It made no difference.
The Jedi Code had it wrong, Caecinius realized. There was chaos; it surrounded him. There was death; it was everywhere. There was passion, and there was emotion; the heat of his hatred burned more intensely than the mark Thanaton had left him with.
An enemy soldier noticed him, fired on him. By instinct, Caecinius took charge of The Force energy surrounding that bolt. He turned it back on the soldier, letting it pierce the gut of the man who had fired it.
It was a mortal wound, but not instantly. The man lay whimpering pathetically on the ground. Caecinius strode to him, lifted his blaster.
His eyes flickered down to the dying man. He was young, his skin pale. His eyes were filled with fear and anguish.
"I could kill you," Caecinius told him calmly. "But I'd just be doing you a favor."
He left in search of more enemies to kill. The larger battle might be lost – But that didn't mean he couldn't repay some of the damage they had inflicted.
There is chaos, but I can impose my will upon it.
There is passion, but I will make it my servant.
There is death, but I will visit it on my enemies.
The Sith will rue the day they let me live.
Thus endeth the lesson.
Far from the planet, the crew of the Siren witnessed the devastation in horror. They had emerged from hyperspace too late to give warning. They were helpless to do anything but listen to the flood of distress calls coming through their communications system, while watching the Sith ships orbiting the Republic capital.
"They must have coordinated the attacks," Mira realized. "They probably hit here at the same time as the monitoring station."
"We have to get down there," Satele urged.
"No chance," Mira said flatly. "Flying into that isn't going to help anyone. We'd just be adding our names to the dead."