A Jedi Lesson
[Shedu Maad, 46 A.B.Y.]
The girl was worried, as any ten-year-old in her place would be. They were not supposed to break rules at the Academy, and it was most certainly past her bedtime. Not to mention the trespass they were technically committing, by unlocking the training hall out of hours with a Master's security code.
"Are you sure it's okay, big bro?"
"Search your feelings, lil sis. There are things adults tell us not to do, but we do them anyway if the Force tells us they're right and necessary."
The boy's voice, and demeanour, showed the extra years he had on his companion. He activated the spot-glowrod he was carrying, casting some light across the indoor sparring area. It was a familiar one where young Jedi spent plenty of time practising their fighting technique: shedding plenty of sweat and tears in the process, and only a little blood if they were lucky.
"Assume the position!" he crowed in a jokey voice, to lighten her mood.
The girl ignited her blue lightsaber and held it in a ready position. Her hands were firm and steady, her face calm. She was ready for action.
"Breathe," he commanded. "On a scale of one to ten, how connected to the Force do you feel right now?"
She bobbed back and forth in time with her breaths as she weighed up her answer. "Ten. Well, maybe nine." A couple more bobs. "No, ten. Final answer."
"That's good. But we can do better."
"How can I do better than a ten?"
"You'll see." He clapped his hands once. "Show me a longform sequence you're very familiar with, your choice. Run through it, and when you're done, start again. And again. Until I say stop."
The girl plucked a Form II lightsaber routine she liked out of her memory, and began the prescribed set of moves. Like a Twi'lek dancer engaging in a performance she knew inside-out, she placed her mind inside the task to complete bit after bit with purely instinctive energy. Only instead of following music, she followed the crystal-clear notes of the Force.
"Without stopping, I want you to close your eyes. You don't need them, okay? The Force is your eyes, and your ears, and your guide."
She did as he instructed. Despite depriving herself of sight in the gloom, her movements did not change one jot, retaining their speed and grace.
"While you continue, I want you to think out loud. List the joints in your body that give you flexibility when you move."
She sang out suggestions in rhythm with her movements.
"Neck.
"Shoulders.
"Hips.
"Knees and ankles.
"Knees and ankles…"
"A good start. Now add the ones you missed."
She hesitated for the first time. Confused, she did not spot her oversight immediately.
"Come on, lil sis. You missed some obvious ones, to begin with."
"Oh," she blushed. "Elbows, wrists, fingers."
"Right. Go through the revised list in your head now. And keep moving as fluidly as the purest wind across the plains of Shedu Maad."
She did so, and he noted with satisfaction how her saber glided through the air with more precision. Her heightened proprioception transferred seamlessly to her fighting style.
He delved into the Force and connected himself to her, gently, supportively. He let her feel his presence for a minute in silence.
"Pay attention to my additions now. Spine."
Her back grew more limber in the middle of an acrobatic sequence, turning a single backflip into a double with no extra effort. She did not cognitively understand the difference, yet her limbs felt their increased looseness and performed accordingly. The sensation infiltrated her subsequent spins and twirls, boosting their effectiveness.
"Every individual joint in each of your fingers."
The lightsaber clutched in her young hands moved with a new level of precision, guided by its wielder's flexibility. New trajectories, new angles, new extension she was enacting for the first time imprinted themselves on her brain as exciting new possibilities.
"The balls of your feet and your toes."
Her already quick feet became ten percent quicker, as she completed a series of dance-like moves that not just a Twi'lek, but the professional Coruscant Ballet troupe would have been envious of, without even realising she was doing them. Her soles became immeasurably sensitive fulcrums, over which the rest of her body bent and swung in perfect balance.
"Very good. Now for the best part. Ready?"
"Yeah." Her voice was balanced, though her breath was slightly rushed. She was tiring from the novel experience, though the sweat was absolutely worth it.
"Last one." He touched her with love in the Force as he spoke. "Every atom in your body."
The girl began to move at a sustained speed, and with a perfect economy of movement, that she had never attained before. Thrusts and swipes and recoveries that previously took a fraction of a second, now took her a fraction of a fraction of a second. The strain on her muscles fell to near zero, as every cell, every atom comprising her physical mass joined hands in perfect harmony with the Force to boost her performance.
He pumped his fist in celebration, pleased at the result.
"Between one and ten, what's your connection to the Force now, sis?"
She gasped in surprise. "Four hundred…"
"Excellent! You can stop now."
Allana Djo Solo lowered and deactivated her lightsaber – not without a pang of regret as she emerged from such a profound immersion into the Force. But she knew she could not stay there forever, and she knew she could achieve the experience again. The previously irising blast door was fully open now, waiting for her to pass through whenever she wanted.
"Who taught you this, big bro?"
Initiate Kantor Grent smiled in the semi-darkness as he approached his friend. "No one. I learnt it from the Force."
She put a fist to her hip in an incongruous gesture for her age. "Aunt Jaina told me there's danger in learning too much on my own. Because my dad picked up forbidden knowledge that hurt him a lot."
Feeling too tall, he knelt on one knee, placed the glowrod on the floor, and took the young girl's hand in his. "Master Jaina's an amazing warrior. But you're not on your own, Lana. Having others who support you is the best way to avoid the pitfalls even a great Jedi like Jacen Solo can encounter."
She nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "I don't like being on my own. That's why Hapes doesn't feel like home, because there's no one there I trust. Everyone's out for themselves… even Mom sometimes."
"The Hapes Consortium is nice," he quipped, hopping to his feet. "But I have a feeling it could be made much, much better – by the wise Jedi Queen you're going to be."
"Kant?"
"Yeah, sis?"
"I trust you."
He grinned back at her. "I know."
Without needing to say so aloud, the pair knew it was time to go. They had to get back to their respective dormitories in case anyone discovered their truancy; although it had not yet happened, there was always the danger of being caught. And if they were, in all likelihood they would be forbidden any further escapades by a furious Master or two.
Grent switched off the light of the glowrod in his hand as they slipped out into the night. The door slid closed behind them and returned the hall to its rightful silence.
In the pitch black of the observation deck, the two Jedi Masters relaxed and cautiously stopped hiding their presences in the Force. The younglings were gone, and unlikely to search behind them for anyone who might have been spying on their exercise.
"You see, he is most intuitively skillful," commented Cilghal the Mon Calamari with a choked whistle to the human seated alongside her. "And, more importantly, a nice fellow. Empathetic, altruistic, almost like a healer."
"True," acknowledged Kyle Katarn. "But that can go astray. What starts as mentoring a younger kid can turn into a corrupting influence."
"I believe you overreact," snapped the Mon Cal, shocked at his vocabulary. "Do not make a mountain out of a stelmhill."
"Don't be obtuse. They even mentioned Darth Caedus!"
"No. They referred to Jacen Solo the Jedi Knight, not his Dark Side corruption," she corrected. "He was Allana's father. It is entirely normal for her to bring up his memory."
"Whatever. Don't you think this pursuit of new knowledge is dangerous for younglings?"
"All Jedi with any sort of intellectual curiosity know the cautionary tales of the past. When we were apprentices we learned about Anakin Skywalker and Exar Kun and whatnot. Our students will be as wise, and as foolish, as we were."
Kyle shook his head. "Sometimes things can be too perfect, Cilg. That lad came to us late, out of nowhere, at an age where he'd have been rejected by the old Order; but despite starting kilometers behind, he's becoming one of our best students. I have a bad feeling about it."
"Then it is our job to ensure he does not stray from the Path… except when straying is good." The Mon Cal refrained from confessing her complicity in giving Grent her security code, as she enabled his supposed 'straying'.
Her friend got a sniff of her reticence in the Force nonetheless. "You've been doing this for a while, haven't you?" he asked with a sigh. "How many times?"
Her barbels quivered as she considered prevaricating to a fellow Master, as pointless as that would have been. Of course she decided not to.
"Over a hundred fifty times." In response to his incredulity, she cracked a joke. "This is why, you may have noticed, in the last standard year I have often been tired in morning meetings. Lack of sleep takes its toll on us old ones."
Katarn scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "You're barvy, Cilg! Why?"
She pointed a spindly red hand at the sparring area the youngsters had vacated. "You watched this boy teach Allana a powerful Force technique in under half a standard hour, helping her catch up with her studies that have been neglected due to her duties as Chume'da of Hapes. No one told Grent she needed help: he sensed it and sought her out. And he has done similar with many other Initiates." She rolled her large eyes in imitation of a human gesture. "We would be truly barvy, as you put it, to hold back a Jedi with such potential, and desire, to help others as well as himself."
"That can also be dangerous, my dear," reminded Katarn. "It can entail potential, and desire, for evil too."
"Agreed. And that is why we must ensure," she gurgled, "that our pupils never feel rudderless, untethered, on their own, even as they blaze their own Path. We must be there for them with love, and compassion, and understanding… whether they want it, or not."
He cracked a wry smile at last. "Such as the compassion and understanding to not discipline someone for trespassing after curfew… a hundred fifty times?"
"Exactly." The Mon Calamari healer emitted a gravelly noise in the guise of a chuckle. She placed a hand on her colleague's shoulder, signalling gratitude for his discretion. "Younglings will be younglings. And soon they will be adults, taking on the duties we can no longer perform when we are gone, as is necessary under the renewal process of life. We are older than we like to accept, Kyle, and the future is closer than we acknowledge. We must let them find their way, however it manifests itself.
"Fighting new, as yet unimagined battles. Developing new, groundbreaking ideas. Addressing crises and challenges that will rival those we confronted in our time.
"Making the galaxy a better place, in ways we may not be able to fathom, but for which their generation will give their blood, tears and sweat to achieve."
The old battleaxe Katarn remained sceptical as he stood up to leave for the comfort of his bed. "If you say so. I'll believe it when I see it."
"Kyle, my friend," said Cilghal, "I suspect you will not believe it even when you see it."
THE END of the lesson