Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.
Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.
Author's Notes: I know what you're thinking…
"You missed the report on the Outer Rim sieges."
"I'm sorry; I was held up. I have no excuse."
I'm very sorry for the long delay, and the only thing I can say in my defense is that I was overtaken by multitudes of pre- and post-prom activities. Hopefully, this long chapter will make up for it.
On another note, bold italic sentences indicate training bond communication.
Revenge and Regret
By Kekelina
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Chapter Eighteen: The Chosen One
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Form VII was a powerful and dangerous tool, intended to strengthen the warrior by making him or her embrace the darkness within him- or herself. Only two were able to wield its destructive power. It was ironic that both were Jedi.
Vaapad was a recently acquired lightsaber combat form for the Jedi Order. Created by Jedi Master Mace Windu, it played to his strengths and tested his will. Only the strongest and most powerful Jedi could wield a lightsaber under Form VII. It should be no surprise that the other Master of Vaapad was Mace's own former Padawan Learner, Depa Billaba.
Alone, they were devastating warriors, able to dismiss an enemy in half the time it took Masters of Soresu to achieve. Together, on the other hand, they were an almighty force to be reckoned with, blades moving so fast that they couldn't even be seen at times. No one survived against the Windu-Billaba team. No one.
That standard held true as they disposed of clone after clone, the combat more like a mildly strenuous exercise than a fight for survival. The clones, trying extremely hard to remain a safe distance away, even seemed reluctant to fire at the Jedi team, for all the bolts that shot from their blaster pistols were discharged right back to their senders. It seemed like sheer madness to attack the deadly Masters.
Mace wouldn't complain. It made his job easier.
Another soldier collapsed in half, having managed to connect his stomach to the pulsing electrum blade of Mace's lightsaber. He smirked.
The problem that most Jedi found in Vaapad was in its function. Of course, being a lightsaber form, its function was to kill/maim/protect/etc., but that was only its manifest function. Its latent function, on the other hand, was far more disturbing and far less accepted by the Jedi: the wielder of Vaapad had to want to kill. In order to fight, Mace had to desire to harm the soldiers. This bloodthirst, as many called it, grievously contradicted the Jedi Code, which preached peace and serenity instead of emotion and passion. As a Jedi, Master Windu was supposed to fight only in detachment and kill only in the direst of situations. As a warrior, Mace Windu teetered on the edge of the Dark Side.
But he always pulled himself back. That was what made him a superb candidate for Vaapad. Not only did he have the strength to embrace the darkness and fight with it, he could also let it go. When others would fall prey to the allure of the Dark Side's power and have greed overtake them, Mace Windu could resist the seductive power.
Depa, graceful in every movement, Force-pushed two of the armored soldiers back, causing them to collide with several other members of their squadron. He spared the Chalactan Council member a glance. Although Depa was now a Jedi Master and a wise member of the High Council, the camaraderie between the two felt the same as it had during Depa's apprenticeship, when she and Mace had traveled across the galaxy promoting its welfare.
He made to comment on this nostalgic moment when thousands voices in the Force cried out in terror and were ripped away suddenly, leaving a giant vacuum of nothingness in their place. The effect made Mace stumble and momentarily lose his focus. The clones, much more intelligent than the disassembled Separatist's army of droids, quickly took advantage of the situation and began a barrage of laser bolts that he and Depa (who had also felt the pain of ten thousand lives disappearing) struggled to deflect.
Something terrible had happened, something that had the ability to change the fate of the Republic forever. But what?
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Jango had always enjoyed a challenge. He despised taking jobs that were too easy and only did so when he was in need of credits. His favorite jobs, it should be no surprise, were Jedi.
Trained nearly from birth to fight the many "evils" of the galaxy, Jedi were highly skilled warriors who could get out of more tight situations than Jango could name. Many Jedi had slipped through his fingers over the years.
Then there had been Kenobi.
Just prior to being hired by Palpatine to capture the Jedi Knight, Jango had learned the secret to making Jedi surrender. Jedi weren't stupid beasts; they could calculate the odds of survival in the blink of an eye. Therefore, in order to get them to surrender, one had to put them in a situation where the odds were impossibly stacked against them. Depending on the situation, one could make a Jedi do anything from giving up his or her lightsaber to throwing him- or herself into death's face. One would find that most Jedi would give up their lives if they felt that the lives of their companions were more important than their own.
Of course, Jedi could also be stubborn creatures. If they felt they had even half-a-percent chance for both their companions and themselves to survive, they would fight for their lives until either death proved them wrong or they conquered their foes.
It seemed that the Jedi were going to be stubbornly foolish this time.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Three Jedi children (Padawans, were they called?) fell under the wrath of his precision pistol.
"Serves them right," Jango muttered to himself, "for straggling behind their group." No doubt, their group, led by a female Jedi, was headed to safety, either to be locked away in one of the many rooms of the Temple or to be stuck on a ship headed towards some distant planet. It didn't matter. No matter how many children they saved, without older Jedi to teach them, they might as well be saving Bantha droppings.
Better to be safe than sorry though…
Jango beckoned the nearest clone. "Follow those kids."
The clone saluted ("Yes, sir!") and scuttled off to ensure the demise of the future of the Jedi, while Jango stalked around the Archives, looking for his next unknowing victim. He stepped carelessly over the body of the Archivist, an older woman who had put up a good fight – much better than what he had been expecting.
He had to give respect to the Jedi for their skills. They were worthy opponents.
Swift movement from a dark shape blurred the edge of his vision. Jango became very still, having found his prey. He crept as it (or rather, he or she) carefully maneuvered the aisles of the Jedi Archives, moving in a pattern that only seemed random.
The Jedi ducked down another aisle, skipped the next two, then hastened to the other side of the room with Force-enhanced speed. Jango trailed the elusive Jedi, catching glimpses of his next victim as he or she continued to move throughout the extensive room in this manner. All he had to do was watch long enough, then he could predict his or her next move.
Then he would have the opportunity to strike.
A flash of robes. A brief glimpse of olive skin.
Pass the third aisle…down the next…over…across…up…skip…skip –
Now.
Jango threw a vibroax at the Jedi, a young Mirialan female, letting it soar through the air in its own chaotic wobble towards the girl. The apprentice, taken by surprise, spun in a dizzying circle, lightsaber blazing to life with a snap-hiss, deflecting the vibroax at the last second.
Distracted, the Jedi didn't sense the Merr Sonn 1126 rocket until it was too late. The blast caught her in mid-jump, slamming her against a shelf with the sickening crack of all her vertebrae shattering. Limp as a piece of flimsi, she crumpled to the floor and was soon lost under the mountain of debris and fire the rocket had created.
A job well done.
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Is that all you've got?
In a dizzying array of acrobatics, Shaak Ti landed in front of a very surprised clone and sliced the enemy in half, following that astounding move with another equally mind-boggling combination of two double flips and a lightsaber throw, effectively jamming her lightsaber through the heart of another trooper from twenty meters away.
The Togruta Jedi's head tails twitched lightly in comfortable rhythm with her deadly aerodynamics.
Shaak Ti was ready to take on the whole army by herself.
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Garen had been just a young boy when he had first traveled to the caves of Ilum to create his own lightsaber. It was the first test of his career as a Jedi, for the caves were not ordinary caves. They were strong in the Force, and only those with trust in their training and themselves could navigate their winding passages and Force-induced hallucinations. His own had almost caused him to fail.
In it, he had seen himself – much older and more ragged – wounded and slowly dying from his injuries and lack of nutrition. Hopelessness and heartache had festered around him, a slowly simmering stew of regret and betrayal. The image of himself had frightened him and, moreover, had made him feel inadequate to be a Jedi. He had struggled to overcome the delusion, fought against his desire to return to his Master's side in shame, a weaponless Padawan unfit to even best a hallucination.
However, in the end, he had overcome it, and he had walked out of the caves with his head held high, clutching his lightsaber proudly.
If asked, Jedi Knight Muln couldn't explain why such memories returned now, as he cut down his enemies. He didn't even have the same lightsaber anymore. But, perhaps, on second thought, there was a reason the memories returned – one reason.
Though he had never admitted it to anyone, even his Master, Garen had always wondered why? Why had he been hiding in the caves of Ilum? Why hadn't he returned to the Jedi Temple to receive treatment from its skilled Healers? Why hadn't he commed for help?
Though his adolescent brain hadn't been able to comprehend it at the time, with age he had begun to suspect that if the vision had been true (the illusions were usually just that – illusions), it had been the product of something far more sinister than a simple mission gone awry. Something that affected not only him, but all Jedi in the galaxy:
The extinction of the Jedi.
Somehow, that possibility seemed quite a bit more likely now than it had a month before.
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"Sithspit, they're everywhere!"
Under normal circumstances, Jedi Master Ry-Gaul would've chastised his young protégé for such language, but obviously the situation was hardly normal.
Master, I can't – there are too many!
After cleanly slicing a head off, causing it to soar through the air as its owner crumpled to the floor, Ry-Gaul sent a supportive wave through their training bond.
Focus, my Padawan. Don't panic.
And whatever you do, Ry-Gaul silently prayed, don't do anything rash.
Though a seemingly quite man, Ry-Gaul was a fierce warrior and a cunning diplomat and had been known to assist in many "aggressive negotiations." He infinitely preferred non-aggressive negotiations best.
"Time to say goodbye, Jed – " The sentence ended with a shriek of agony as another trooper fell victim to his silver-bladed lightsaber, a rare color among Jedi.
"Goodbye."
While he was well known for his silence, he was perhaps best known throughout the Temple for his patience. He rarely became flustered when required to use his lightsaber to bring about an end to situations, and it was gossiped among the ranks of the Jedi that his patience rivaled Master Qui-Gon Jinn's stubbornness.
His Padawan, however, was a very different story.
It did not surprise Ry-Gaul that Tru had become friends with Anakin Skywalker. Both were very social, rambunctious Senior Padawans with a love for action and the aforementioned aggressive negotiations. While it seemed that Tru had not learned much patience from his Master, he was hardly arrogant of his skills. Tru knew his limits, and he knew when to ask for help.
And that was why Ry-Gaul was worried.
Over the nearly eight years of their Master-Padawan relationship, neither had ever battled an enemy with numbers of such magnitude. Not even as an apprentice himself had Ry-Gaul encountered such a reckoning force. If he was having trouble keeping up with the barrage of blaster fire, vibroshivs, and other such gadgets, he could only imagine how Tru was coping…
He sent a burst of strength to his young learner.
Instead of it being returned with a wave of gratitude, there was a burst of pain from Tru's end of the bond.
His Padawan collapsed to the floor, moaning and clutching his stomach. His lightsaber lay off to one side, deactivated and useless.
What followed seemed to go in slow motion for Ry-Gaul…
Abandoning his battle with the clones, he turned and began to run to Tru's side, fear clutching his heart, as the majority of the troops aimed their blasters at the silver-skinned boy.
No!
Terror gripped the Jedi Master. No matter how hard he pushed, his feet refused to speed up.
The clones began to pull their triggers.
In desperation, Ry-Gaul threw his lightsaber at the squad, killing two instantaneously. Their single-minded determination to kill rested on him, blasters re-aiming as he fought his way to his wounded Padawan's side.
"Tru – !"
Something small and alloy clattered to the floor near his feet.
A thermal detonator.
Ry-Gaul locked eyes with Tru for the briefest of seconds, then roughly Force-pushed him out of the way.
His world exploded in fiery pain.
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"...And in the time of greatest
despair there shall come a savior,
and he shall be known as:
THE SON OF THE SUNS."
- Journal of the Whills, 3:127
Anakin Skywalker awoke to a chaotic world, a world he had dreamt about – no, not dreamt. Seen. He had seen all of this before – the soldiers, the death, the destruction. He had witnessed all of it in his vision, had been consumed by the fire, the pain. The pain of every single Jedi. Every scratch, every death, every heartache…he knew them all.
Something had happened. He wasn't the Jedi he had been. He was stronger, more powerful…
The Chosen One.
But was that truly possible? He himself only believed the prophecy to true half the time. How many times had Yoda told his fellow Jedi not to judge someone's abilities based on size or appearance…
…Or midichlorian count?
Twenty-thousand meant nothing. It was his choices that would determine his path. Everything began with choice.
"But I never chose this…"
Yes, you did, a gentle voice replied. You chose it the moment you lowered your lightsaber and collapsed into Qui-Gon's waiting arms, when you resisted temptation to remain true to the vows you pledged to your Master and the Jedi Order, when you sacrificed revenge for your mother's death to continue pursuing your future as a Jedi Knight. You chose every single day, even if you did not realize it.
A whisper: "What if I fail?"
The Chosen One cannot fail. Even when all hope seems lost, when there appears to be no light left in the universe, the Force is still at work. It will not abandon you, Anakin Skywalker. It will never abandon you.
"What do I do now?"
Fulfill your destiny.
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The Other Author's Notes: So, despite many predictions I've received about Obi-Wan being the true "Chosen One," it is, as it has always been, Anakin's task to bring the Force back into balance. I would like the point out that there is some controversy over whether or not the prophecy of the Son of the Suns is actually referencing Anakin or Luke. For our purposes, since it has not truly been determined and still fits in the context of this story and the basic canon universe of Star Wars, it references Anakin.
On a completely different note, I was wondering if any of you could refresh me on the full quote in Secrets of the Jedi when Obi-Wan holds his lightsaber to Magus and says "But I am not like you." My SotJ book is MIA, and it's really bugging me because I can't, for the life of me, remember. Any help would be much appreciated.
Back on the subject of JT III, I've decided to make a little poll question. Which, out of the three, would you rather see die: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, or Anakin. Keep in mind that your answers will not affect the story in any way. I'm just settling my own blasted curiosity.
Stay tuned for Chapter Nineteen: The Jedi Fight Back. Don't hesitate to review!