Telesthesia
(n): Sensation or perception received at a distance without the normal operation of the recognized sense organs.
From the outside, everything about the room seemed calm, and in fact it was, to all but the room's lone occupant.
He sat in the darkness with a single candle for light. His pose was motionless, back straight, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap. The only sign of life was the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.
This room belonged to the Nova Base's only Jedi.
In his meditative state, he studied the Living Force that surrounded him. The bustling around of the crew, the tight knots of the communications workers, and the calm of the medical personnel all presented to him as swirling, thrumming, colorful pulses connected by thin strands of white light. After reaching out to the beings in the base, he attempted to extend his reach; an exercise he had been working on the last several months. He found that each time he pushed farther than the boundaries of the base, he could go farther and hold it longer. He knew he should be more careful about pushing his reach with the Force, but it was the only thing he had that connected him to his life before the Empire. It was the only thing that seemed to fill the void in his chest left by the Purge.
Now, he could extend the Force about forty klicks in any direction, today he was trying for forty-five. He pushed, gently, at the boundaries of the Force perimeter he had just created around the base and slowly but surely he could feel the awareness of the animals outside. They brushed against his mind like stiff feathers, soft and pliant but persistent. It brought the smallest of smiles to his face. He continued to push gradually upwards and outwards. He could feel the steady thrum of contentedness from the many avian species that inhabited this planet as they sailed seamlessly through the warm air. With another exhale he reached farther and felt the gentle graze of something distinctly non-animal, it was too complex. The only other explanation was other sentients. This wasn't out of the ordinary as this base was the largest in the sector and ships came and went as they were ordered. He knew each and every pilot's signature in the Force as well as he used to know the signatures of his clan-mates growing up in the Temple. Focusing, he brought all of his willpower to a singular point and attempted to reach for the faint signature of the oncoming craft. His first contact met his subconscious as a bright blue-green hum, he could feel the concentration and steadiness emanating from the Living Force like a cool breeze.
'Naati' So the Renegade had found its way home, and judging from the general lack of malcontent he assumed they had finally picked up their cargo. He pushed a little more and felt the coarse, stalwart, dusty orange of Pyle's slow-burning temper and stubborn resolve. With a small grin, he pushed again.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
A vortex of dark, roiling, raw emotion slammed into his subconscious like a slab of permacrete. It was enough to knock the breath from his lungs and sway him where he sat. The carefully built walls of the Force came crashing down like a pillar of water, stinging his mind and leaving him feeling shaken and dazed. For a moment he simply sat there, unable to process what had just happened. It had only been a fraction of a second, but he could still feel the strong currents of conflict, broken trust, anger, and pain tumbling about in his chest. After a few moments he remembered the proper way to breathe and let the stale, damp air fill his lungs gratefully. Once he was over the initial shock of the encounter, he focused inward to try and balance himself out. He allowed himself a few moments to think on the rather...distinctive Force signature. Although the darker feelings had taken control of the being, there had been some light. There had been a resigned kind of joy- no, no that had been relief- a small swathe of elation, and the smallest pinprick of hope that smoldered at the center of the vortex like a dying ember.
Taking another breath, he rose to his knees and attempted to settle his mind from the backlash of the violence he had just encountered. He inhaled for five counts, waited a beat, and exhaled for six, just as he had been trained. Within a minute, all but the most stubborn tendrils of the Force-storm had been flushed from his system. Outside of his room, he could hear a dull commotion, no doubt the result of Naati's ship coming in. He rose, acutely aware of how unstable the encounter with the Force-storm had made him. He could remedy that with some intensive meditation later, but for now, he was needed elsewhere. He took a steadying breath and padded silently over to the door with a practiced ease achieved only by being hunted for years on end. The door opened and revealed the beings he had only minutes ago sensed through the living Force making their way past his quarters and towards the main hangar. A younger female Borneck stopped and waved to him from the other side of the narrow corridor.
"They're back, Petro." she said, her happiness seeming to give her already bright yellow skin a golden glow. He smiled back and nodded. The girl beamed at him and darted down the corridor, dodging the few figures that got in her way. His grin faltered a little as he remembered the well of darkness that was coming in with their beloved comrades. He sincerely hoped that the storm could be quelled with just friendly faces and the prospect of coming home.
Hello there.
