Star Wars: The Dark Empire
Episode 2 - JenesisPart 2 - Prophecies and Decisions
Alderon, Jedi Academy
Marka jumped out of his scout almost as soon as it touched down on the landing pad, he was desperate to see how Kaya was doing.
"Hey, am I supposed to park this thing?" Lydale called from the cockpit.
Lydale Halcyon was one of the two padawan learners that Marka had taken up. He was a dark-skinned half-Miraluka who had made a name for himself on the swoop track, a big name. He had won the Coruscant open three years in a row, only the second to achieve that distinction so far, as well as winning countless other races on other planets. Most sentients in the core worlds knew his name, even those who did not follow swoop racing. Some of that fame had gone to his head, and Marka had had his work cut out for him slowly deflating it, which hadn't proven easy sinceeverybody in the galaxy seemed to know him on sight. Lydale had proven a good padawan otherwise. He was very powerful in the Force, so powerful in fact that he mastered all his basic classes when he had joined the Jedi in just over a week, which was when he had caught Marka's attention. With his mixed human and Miralukan blood, he had eyes, but they were blind. So in Miralukan style he kept them covered; either with fashionable dark glasses or, like today, with a coloured band.
Marka slowed down and turned to Lydale, while still following his original direction; nodded, and pointed to the nearby hangar. He then turned back, and increased his pace.
He was met at the entrance to the academy, an abandoned arena the Jedi had annexed for their training, by Laman O'del. Laman was a grizzled pale man in his mid-fifties. He had, not too long ago, been the Equilium, the leader of the Greys. Part of the deal when they had joined the Jedi order though had beenthat the Greys Order disband. The teachings lived on only in the hearts and minds of the few who had once been part of the order, and the ex-Sith that they had trained. Marka slowed down as soon as he realised that Laman was purposefully blocking the exit.
"She's sleeping right now, both of them are," said Laman. "They should wake in a few hours."
Marka quickly checked his bond to confirm, abashing himself slightly for not doing it before. Marka and his wife Kaya shared a bond that had developed without their knowledge during the time she had spent as his captive, back when he was Sith. "Well," he said finally, "I guess that I better inspect the academy."
"Walk with me a bit," Laman suggested. "The fresh air and exercise will be good for you after such a long trip. Besides, we haven't had a chance to catch up in a while."
Marka had to agree. Recently he had mostly been flying from star system to star system, checking on the Jedi and military recruitment programmes. Before, the Jedi order had only accepted young Force-sensitive children into their ranks. Now as a result of the desperate times, they did not have the time to train them from infancy, and would only accept adults. The acceptance age for humans and near-humans was between 16 and 49, although it could be extended a little if they had military training. For alien races it was the equivalent, according to their life spans. One of the biggest problems in recruiting was the terrible reputation that the Jedi had built over the course of the Mandalorian, Sith and Jedi civil wars, and few had the patriotism to join and be in the front line against the Sith, who they had good reason to fear.
They would have feared them a lot more if they knew how much more the true Sith were capable of than the past imitations. And even if they were prepared to join, only a fraction of a fraction had enough Force sensitivity to merit Jedi training. Those not able to join the Jedi were generally recruited for the military, so the effort was not wasted.
Still, there had been enough of an influx of padawans that there were now more than three thousand in the Jedi Order, nearly enough to match the Sith for numbers. Of course, the Sith were fully trained, and would cut through such rookies like a hot knife through butter, so numbers meant little. Training and experience meant everything, and the Jedi were running out of time.
Marka was desperately trying to make sure that they were all ready when the invasion came, and that could not be long now. They set up training camps on dozens of worlds; where small amounts of experienced Jedi, mainly ex-Sith, would train literally hundreds of students. The problem now was that there weren't enough experienced Jedi to train the initiates and padawans. Even out of the five hundred ex-Sith not all were fully trained, and there were precious few Jedi left from the old order.
The Order had been blessed recently, though, with an influx of Dark Jedi and Sith who had served under Malak and were now returning to the Jedi. They were mostly fully trained at least, although not nearly to the true Sith's standards. Marka had spent the last few months travelling between the various academies, making sure that they were up to scratch and that all learners and trainers were progressing in their skills at a fast enough rate. So far, the only academy he had been totally satisfied with was the Taris academy. On many of the academies the trainers forgot to keep up with their own learning in-between teaching classes, and Marka had been forced to make a lot of examples, which he did not enjoy. It was necessary though, for their own good as well as for the Jedi Order and the Republic.
All of the academies had experienced Masters in charge; the larger ones had council members. The largest of these academies was the massive one on Taris. There, Ramon oversaw – with the help of Kaah and a hundred and twenty trained Jedi – the training of over eight hundred. It was almost certainly the best, Ramon was an excellent trainer, better even then Marka. He had far more patience with the day-to-day routine, as well as students who took a long time to learn anything useful. The Telos academies were also very large, with six hundred there spread between four different camps, overseen by Brianna, who had originally founded the first one with Mical. Mical had, for now, been replaced by council member Yarin, with his new duties in the Defense ministry. The Alderon academy here was quite small, with only a hundred and fifty, but Marka planned to grow it. He certainly did not want to send any more to the Coruscant academy in the Jedi temple, and expose them to the obsolete and damaging teachings of Astin Lamar. His academy was the most behind in the training schedule.
Marka and Laman walked along the side of a small river, enjoying the peace, a few moments when they were free from their constant responsibilities. As they walked, they began to talk about recent events.
"Do you think that Korgul is going to come after you?" Laman asked after a while. He had obviously intended to sound natural when he had said it, but hadn't quite managed to keep the fear out of his voice.
Marka's jaw tightened. It was a question that had been bothering him for a while. "It seems probable, so I have to treat it as a certainty until I know for sure that he is not here. Certainly if I was the Dark Lord, that's who I'd send."
Few knew anything about Korgul Juglur, the Dark Lords left hand. He had appeared, apparently from nowhere; exactly a year after the attempted insurrection ten years before, in which three Sith masters and their four apprentices had taken on the Dark Lord with support, while he was alone, and still lost. No one knew what had become of the four apprentices; most suspected that three had been killed while one had become Korgul, after extensive experimentation, mutation and training of course. But that still did not ring true to Marka. Korgul had been putting down even the whisper of mutiny for nine years before Marka had left, and had taken on the most powerful of Sith masters and won, even when his foes had support.
There was absolutely no reason why he should be so powerful, it was a well-known fact that he was Force-dead. He should be no different than any of the phantoms, the elite Force-dead assassins who did his bidding. Yet he was said to be even faster and stronger than one using the deadly Yoshi Ma form. But that was impossible, as he couldn't possibly use the Force to augment his natural strength and speed. Korgul obviously hadn't heard that, he continually bested and killed traitors to the Sith who should have been far out of his league. His other rumoured ability was that he could become invisible, not using the normal stealth-field techniques that could be detected easily enough by an experienced Force-user. The combination of these abilities would make him beyond deadly if the rumours were even half-true.
"What if you're not his only target?" said Laman softly.
Marka nodded, if Korgul was to come to the Republic, most likely he would bring a few score of his Force-dead assassins, the phantoms, and they would be sent to wreak havoc and murder on the leading Republican figures. The problem was that besides warning them to post extra guards, there wasn't too much that he could do. His priority was to make sure that they weren't able to strike at the Jedi Order, because if they did he could lose hundreds, and then many more would desert. After that, they may as well surrender to the Sith without a fight.
"We'll have to hide our training camps from all eyes," he said quietly. "Even our friends. We're too vulnerable now to withstand any blows." Those were their most likely targets. He then told Laman about the decision he had come to about the others that might likely be targeted.
Laman sighed. "I came to that conclusion as well, they'll just have to fend for themselves. These training camps' whereabouts are common knowledge," he said, handing Marka a data pad, "and I've compiled a list of all the planets in systems that are remote enough to remain unseen. I had hoped that the Telos polar academies might be remote enough, but Jezebel knows about one of them at least, and we can't risk her paying a visit."
"We'll leave that one till last. Korgul and his cronies might well be here already, we'll have to move them all within a month," said Marka in a weary voice.
The two men walked along the riverbank, lost in thought. They reached a point where the river widened, creating a small marsh. With the birds and bulrushes, Marka was reminded acutely of the lakeshore on Sedan where he had proposed to Kaya, the place where his father had taken him often as a boy. As his mind drifted onto his father, suddenly he remembered something that his father had said shortly before his death, something he had put out of his mind for over a year.
"There is an ancient Greys prophecy, the one of the hearts of the Force. They will come in a time of unparalleled troubles, death, pain and loss. Even the Force itself will suffer. They will experience everything of life and the Force, and create the longest lasting peace that the Galaxy will ever know."
Turning back to Laman, he said, "Changing the subject entirely, my father mentioned to me a prophecy, the hearts or something…"
"The hearts of the Force," said Laman, his brown eyes hardening to rock. "It's our most cherished and secret belief, or should I say, was. Your father should not have even mentioned it to you!"
"That's all he did," said Marka, ignoring the elderman's annoyance, "but unless I'm very much mistaken, a 'time of unparalleled troubles when even the Force suffer', is now."
Laman snorted, "Maybe it is, but that's for the historians to decide."
"Just tell it to me, and I'll decide if it's important."
Laman frowned. "This secret has been kept by three Greys over the course of a millennia, never more than three. Your father was one of the keepers in his time, so too am I." he sighed, "The Greys no longer exist, so I suppose keeping it secret does not really matter. Actually the disbanding of the Greys was one of the requirements of the prophecy for its predictions to come to pass."
Marka's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline, he was definitely interested now. "So exactly what does this prophecy entail?"
"Most of it was lost over the course of centuries of purges, only a few fragments remain," Laman explained, "We know that it was very detailed, but the little that remains gives us little more than a shadow of an understanding. The prophecy would only come to fruition when the Greys disbanded peacefully, to join what the prophecy calls 'the guardians of peace and justice', which can only mean the Jedi. The Hearts are meant to stand together against the darkness for the sake of the 'bastion of freedom', which most agree probably means the Republic. But much of what we know does not seem to make sense, too little of it remains."
"Who made this prophecy?" said Marka.
"Its not just one," said Laman. "It's a whole collection. It was made by a man who lived during the great struggle." Laman was referring to the hundred years of strife that had covered the Empire after Naga Sadow's death, before the emergence of Darth Messiah nine hundred years before. "His name has been lost, so we just call him 'the enlightened one' or 'the great teller'. He was the one who founded our Order."
"Surely you must have studied them when they were first made, and drawn up your findings?" said Marka, exasperated.
"We did," said Laman, his face pained. "We made scores of copies. Like I said, there were only ever three who knew the secret, the Equilium and two others. But I cannot stress enough how much damage we took over the years from the Dark Lords' purges, and twice all three keepers were killed, without having passed on the secret. Once, only a scribbled note saved the secret. And whenever the enemy found parts and copies of the prophecies, they destroyed them. We lost nearly the entire prophecy many times, only a fragment of a fragment now remains, much of it second-hand; third-hand or more. We came to the conclusion hundreds of years ago that the Dark Lord somehow knew about our prophecy and was doing his best to rid the universe of it, for it was predicting the ones who would stand against him."
"That would explain a lot," said Marka, remembering how hated and even feared the Greys had been in the Empire by the Sith. Even their name had been taboo. "Anything else you can tell me, any specifics?"
"There seem to be four hearts of the Force, most likely Force adepts, but we cannot be certain. They are referred to as the Protector, Swordsman, Prodigal and Prophet. Each of them is vital to victory, in a specific way. We have a few fragments telling of things that these sentients will do, for instance the Prodigal is to stand against the Phantom Master, and know no fear. But he will die unless the One of Loss comes, with mercy at hand. The Protector will have a gift, and will teach it to others. The Swordsman is to face the Consumed One, but he cannot win even with the help of a hundred. The Prophet will have to compromise his love and soul for the sake of the sakeof the 'bastion of freedom'…"
"Wait," said Marka suddenly, his head spinning."What does this mean?"
"The prophecies do not say," said Laman patiently, "and if they did, that part has been lost. We're fairly certain that the 'One of Loss,' the 'Phantom Master' and the 'Consumed One' are sentients, and significant ones, but not one of the Hearts. As to the rest, I have no idea."
"The 'Phantom Master' could be Korgul," said Marka, thinking hard. "He leads the phantoms, and he is recognized as having a rank equal or superior to the Sith Masters. But I haven't a clue as to the others. So, you think that the Hearts are coming?"
"I believe that the hearts are already here."
Marka had the mad desire to laugh at Laman's bold statement, but he had found during the time that they had spent together that the other man had an uncanny habit of nearly always being right. "Any ideas who they are?" he managed finally.
"Some," said Laman cautiously. "I'm not entirely sure. But I am sure that you're one of them, Marka."
Marka stopped walking with a start. "ME!" he exclaimed."Why?"
"Simply because you've had too great an impact on recent events not to be," said Laman, grinning slightly. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that you are the Swordsman referred to in the prophecies. There are clues pointing towards it."
"Explain," said Marka coldly, not quite sure if he liked what he was hearing.
"Well, the swordsman is meant to be incredibly talented with the blades, suggesting more than one, and have 'feet of iron'." Laman took a conspicuous glance at Marka's double-bladed lightsaber and trousers, which concealed his grafted Mandalorian iron feet and ankles, before continuing. "He is also supposed to be 'marked by terror', but will never submit to it."
Marka's left cheek twitched slightly as he digested the information, the movement made his scars itch. Then he remembered that Terantateks were often known as terror-beasts. That was enough truth that he couldn't just dismiss the prophecy as superstitious nonsense. It sounded as though he would likely be killed by the 'consumed one', whoever that was; if the prophecy was true. The knowledge was not pleasant, nor particularly helpful, for he had no idea who that could be. "What are the signs that give away the other Hearts of the Force?"
"The Protector will have given up everything of his soul for the guardians, only to have regained it upon touching the darkness."
"So the Protector is a Sith?" said Marka.
"I did not say that," said Laman indignantly. "Just that he will touch the darkness. There are some fragments that seem to indicate a choice for the Protector, between two of the other Hearts. But I have no idea what that has to do with."
"So it's definitely a man?"
"No, by the way that the prophecies are written, all except the Swordsman could just as easily be women."
Marka nodded, "And the other two?"
"The Prodigal is meant to be the greatest among them, quite possibly the leader. But I can't tell you much else about him, and all we know to identify the Prophet is that he will have mystic dreams."
"There you go with the 'he,' part again," said Marka snidely.
Laman shrugged, "Sorry, its just been a long-time assumption of the Greys that the Hearts would all be male, its because of a particularly obscure fragment that states that the 'brothers of rising light' would stand against the 'Father of all Darkness', which probably means the Dark Lord."
"Father of all Darkness," echoed Marka wonderingly.
"Remember, that most of what we have are interpretations of interpretations, and we have no way of knowing which are original, and how many times each has been handed down. The most continuous piece we have is an old lullaby based on these prophecies, created when we had full access to them. It's obscure, not very good, and we have no way of knowing how much artistic license they used. But it could be our most reliable remaining clue. It goes like this…"
Laman began to sing, and after a few moments Marka joined in. He knew the song well, his father Harn had sung it to him countless times during his infancy. He was suddenly amazed that he hadn't remembered it during his conversation with Laman.
Darkness approaches, do not dismay
Hold fast, stay your course
Stand the light, turn and fight
Twin twin Hearts of the Force
Protector, battle winner
Prodigal, renamed thrice
Swordsman, feet of iron
Prophet, of great sacrifice
Brothers, Sisters, stand
Love to bind you together
Four, three, then two
One path to change fate forever
Stand brave, stay strong
More than they bargained for
Give all, for if you fall
Evil shall reign, forevermore
--
Telos polar region, Jedi academy
Orrin shivered, even though they were now inside the air was still distinctly chilly. At least they were out of the snowstorm that had nearly blown their transport off course, and made them nearly an hour late in arriving. Orrin and the rest of the ex-Military academy students were escorted deeper down inside the compound by one of the students, taking an elevator that seemed to go down forever, and reached a doorway that opened out into a massive hall that seemed to go up and up forever. It had obviously been built for some purpose other than the academy that was now here; it was far larger than their needs. On the ground groups of Jedi were being instructed in classes of twenty or more.
They were greeted there by an Ithorian and a white-haired young woman that Orrin recognized as a Echani. Despite her youth, the way she carried herself left no doubt that she was one of the senior most Jedi.
"My name is Master Brianna Kae, and this is Master Yarin Bleur." She spoke crisply, in a cool manner that, together with her hair and complexion, made Orrin think of the weather outside. "We are the masters in charge of this academy. Welcome to the Jedi Order, and the Telos academy. Here you will be trained, and hopefully imparted with the necessary skills to survive in combat. I see that you have received both basic and advanced military training." Those closest to her made noises of assent, she nodded. "That will stand you in good stead, but far more will be needed. Give your names to Master Yarin here and we'll place you in a class."
They filed up neatly in front of the Ithorian Jedi master and started giving their names, he tapped them into his datapad. The second to give his name was Gerald Frogly, there was a muted giggle from all those behind. The young man in question blushed and shuffled his feet. Orrin smiled, he had heard the name before, but it still sounded just as ridiculously. Frogly, ha, he must have had a really dim ancestor to choose that name.
Master Brianna plainly did not find it funny. Her face did not change, except for her brows furrowing slightly. "We can't have that," she said absently. Reaching into her robes she pulled out a data pad and started tapping away on it. "A Jedi cannot have a name that would be found comical," she said as she worked, "for they are to inspire respect and admiration, not laughter."
She looked up, "Your new name is Gerald Kazraol. All planetary records will be changed to reflect this." The young man in question looked bewildered, but pleased.
After their names had been taken, none of the others needed changing, the Jedi masters left them and they were escorted to their dormitories. They were dropped off in various rooms in ones and twos; Orrin and Gerald were dropped off in a room with two bunks and told to meet at the doorway by the main hall in one hour. Jedi robes were already laid out for them and their small amount of luggage was waiting.
"I wonder who else is here," said Gerald.
The room, although neat, definitely looked lived in. The two top bunks had small items of technology on the small shelf beside them, data clips, a broken blaster and the like. One even had a few small crystals in a corner. There were also spare robes and other clothes hanging in two of the cupboards, and lightsaber casings and parts lying on the small table in the centre of the room.
"I dunno," said Orrin, and remembered that he had never really talked to Gerald before even though they'd been at the academy. If they were to be roommates they may as well be friends. He extended a hand, "Orrin Ithker."
The other took it immediately, "Gerald Fr…Kazraol," he stumbled at his new surname.
Orrin smiled, and started to unpack. "So, whereabouts are you from?"
--
Coruscant, the Senate
"I'm glad you're here with me today, Mical," said Forn Dodonna.
The Jedi Master gave a brief inclination of his head, "It is my pleasure, Defence Minister."
In actual fact he would much rather be on Telos with Brianna. He missed supervising the training, but mostly he missed her. He wondered if she thought of him as often as he thought of her. But the Jedi needed to give a show of support to the Defence Ministry as well as the Chancellor at this critical time, and Mical was the only council member with a fair inclination of Republic politics besides Master Astin, who was with the Chancellor.
It had raised many eyebrows to have so many Jedi Masters in the council at one time, in such obviously prominent positions, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Between Astin and Mical, they manipulated the council into doing more than they would have done normally in decades, the mere presence of such powerful Force-sensitives was often enough to push events their way. But it hadn't been without hiccups. For some reason Chancellor Agripalwas opposing them at every turn, slowing down every proposition they put forward. And he had nearly a quarter of the senate under his thumb.
Today's proposition would nearly treble the amount of credits allocated to the defence of the Republic, increasing taxes dramatically over all worlds. It had nearly been vetoed in the beginning, and Dodonna and Mical had been forced to draw the senate's attention to what had happened to worlds hit by the Sith before. There were a few long-lived members of the council who still remembered the terrible day when Exar Kun had come to the senate and taken over the mind of the chancellor, forcing him to say that the Republic was a relic and stagnant, before leaving him as a mindless, dribbling wreck.
The debate had taken three days so far, and now the votes were finally being tallied. Fortunately for them, in this type of vote (when the security of the Republic was at stake) only a simple majority was needed, they could never have got the two-thirds generally needed. The tallies were all electronic, and appeared on the chancellors monitor as soon as everyone had voted. As the tallies came up on his monitor, Chancellor Agripal raised his hands for silence.
"The votes are as follows" he said, his voice magnified many times over, booming in the massive chamber. In the distance the twitter of interpreters could be heard. "Forty-nine percent in agreement," Mical was shocked, that was not enough, "three percent abstain, and forty-eight percent in disagreement. Which means, since this is a matter of the Republics security, that this motion is now passed." The chancellor glared at Dodonna, and added softly, "Extra taxes for everyone."
Pandemonium ensued with senators cheering and booing loudly, arguing with each other from their different boxes, even some fights breaking out. Mical sat down, relieved. A portion of that money would go to the Jedi Order, which had been battling for funds recently with so many more padawans to feed, clothe and equip. They would especially need the money now that they were relocating a lot of their academies to different worlds. Most of it though would go towards the training of new conscript armies, and building spaceships. For the first time in millennia, a percentage conscription was being exacted from each of the Republic planets, simply because the volunteer armies were not going to be big enough. That had caused no end of outrage in the senate as well as on every affected world.
Mical got up to leave, saying his goodbyes to Dodonna and the other members of the defence ministry. It was highly unlikely that anything more would be discussed in the senate today, so he would not be missed. He had other duties to attend to, not the least of which was giving Brianna a call, he hadn't in the last two days. And last time she had admitted to 'really missing' him. He needed to fight her again, to see if her feelings towards him had changed. That was a bit difficult though, considering he was on Coruscant and she was on Telos.
Thinking about Brianna, Mical automatically opened himself up fully to the Force, and opened his mind to the thoughts and emotions. He wouldn't consciously do it in the council chambers, there were too many raging emotions and devious thoughts to discern anything but a roaring babble. This time, though, Mical could feel something distinct, he turned around to face it; shocked. Despite the emotional babble being loud enough to deafen, there was a massive, seething anger coming from the centre of the senate, where only the Chancellors' box stood. This wasn't just any anger, this was definitely coming from one who was trained in the Force, and walked the dark path. Whoever it was, they were incredibly powerful, the only Jedi Mical knew with more power than that was Master Marka, although Masters Bastila and Ramon were about the same.
Mical scanned the box, who could it be? Council Member Astin Lamar was sitting with a contented smile on his face. Could it be him, a member of the Jedi council? Could they have not sensed a Sith in their ranks? But that didn't make any sense, why would he push for the result, and then be angry at it? Chancellor Agripal was still standing, a livid expression on his face. It certainly looked like it was him, and he had been the one opposing the proposed bill the most, but looks could be deceiving. The consequences if the Chancellor was a Sith Lord would be devastating, perhaps even more so than if it were Astin. The only other one in the box was the Chancellor's aide, who stood passively waiting until he was needed. Mical didn't even know his name. It could be him as well.
The anger was suddenly cut off; Mical knew enough of the Force to know that the other was now shielding his emotions and ability, which had obviously been brought to the forefront by the vote going the way they did not intend. It was like a sluice gate being rammed in the way of Mical's senses, even without the insane babbling racket from all the senators he never would have been able to break through it. Whoever it was, they were in a position where they could do incredible damage to the Republic, and Mical doubted he would be able to take them on, even if he did know who it was. One thing was certain, there was a Sith infiltrator in the Chancellors' box.
He needed help. He needed someone who was strong enough to defeat this Sith, someone whose loyalties were without question and had no ties to Astin Lamar, because he could quite possibly be one of them. In Revan's continued absence, there was only one possibility.
--
Taris, Jedi academy
"Class, I hope you can remember your opening stances, because today I will be showing you the first seven forms. Who can tell me the name of the first form?"
"Shii-cho, master," said one of the initiates, an Aqualish if Ramon had got his species right. He never could be entirely sure. Fortunately this one spoke basic.
It had been quite disconcerting for Ramon in the beginning, coming from Sith space where, besides humans, there were only Arnon slaves, and of course a few humans with noticeable Sith blood. The Sith species had died out ages ago, but some of the hybrids had lived on and their descendants still lived in the Sith empire. The most prominent of these was Lord Delhano Sorge, the apprentice to the Dark Lord; he also had the most noticeable features with his blood-red skin.
"But aren't there only seven forms?" piped in a young human in her mid-teens. She must have only just made the age requirement, with the order only taking adults now.
"The Jedi order used to only recognize seven forms, but the true Sith practice twelve," Ramon told her "if we are to have any chance against them, we must train the way they do, harder than they do."
He stepped out into the demarcated dueling area, a light metal-alloy short staff in his hand. Kaah joined him from the other side, armed with the same weapon. The short staffs were a substitute for lightsabers in dueling, they greatly reduced the chances for injury while allowing the combatants to be far more aggressive in mock-combat than using lightsabers would allow.
Kaah advanced, aiming a vertical blow at him, which he blocked in a classic fashion; creating an X. Ramon would have preferred to use a longer staff, imitating a double-bladed lightsaber, Kaah probably as well. But for the purposes of the demonstration a single-blade worked better, it was what the initiates would be using initially, regardless whether they progressed later or not. Kaah blocked Ramon's attack in a similar fashion. They continued for another minute before Ramon broke away and lowered his blade, Kaah following suit.
"Shii-cho," said Kaah, "basic defense, basic attack, nothing fancy. This is the first form anybody studying the lightsaber learns, it is the first you will learn. But it is not strong enough to stand against any of the other forms, so you would be ill advised to go into battle against a Sith with it."
"It is a study in basic swordplay," added Ramon, "and Master Kaah is right, never use it against a Sith. It can work to stop blaster fire, but there are other forms better suited for it."
They demonstrated forms II and III together since, by its defensive nature, form III Soresu would not work well in demonstration without an aggressive form to test it. Kaah used Makashi, while Ramon had to use Soresu to defend, no easy task. It was his least favourite form, one he had employed only once or twice in combat situations. He was relieved when the demonstration was over, even though Kaah hadn't come close to breaking his perfect defense.
"Makashi," said Kaah, "absolute control, constant offence. It's based on Echani fighting forms, and has a certain arrogance to it. This form can be very deadly to those who don't know how to face it properly."
"It is a study in precision," said Ramon. "Soresu, on the other hand, is a study in patience. It's all about constant defense, waiting for an opponent to make a mistake. This can be dangerous in lightsaber combat, extended combat is never a good idea, but this form is second to none in deflecting laser blasts; so it is imperative that you learn it."
Ramon and Kaah spread apart again, this time further than before. Kaah came in at a run, giving a broad slash at Ramon, who blocked firmly. Kaah then gave a leap to land behind him and aimed a blow at his back, which once again was blocked perfectly. Kaah kept up the offence with long, sweeping slashes, this had been his favourite form before the Sedan escape; Ramon was currently trying to get him to take up a better one. Kaah was trying a lot harder than was necessary for a simple demonstration, he was obviously trying his utmost to beat Ramon. He had been training a lot recently and seemed to be out to prove a point. But Ramon had his pride to consider, if the Twi'lek was going to come at him with the full intent of winning in a show-duel, he was going to respond in kind.
As they broke apart, Ramon said, to halt the other, "That was Ataru, a study in acrobatics. It's highly aggressive, but not as controlled as other forms. It has too many well-studied weaknesses to use effectively in combat against the Sith, but whatever form you end up using, you will probably find yourself at times using Ataru techniques, whether in jumps and rolls or sweeping strikes."
Kaah was gripping his hilt tightly opposite him, his expression one of focus and determination. This annoyed Ramon, and he resolved to teach his colleague a lesson. He was still the superior in swordplay. Form V was Ramon's specialty, and he attacked with force and aggression. Kaah met him head on, Shien was also one of his strongest forms, but despite great improvement he was still nowhere near Ramon's equal. In fifteen seconds he was struck four times, his cheeks were burning with humiliation by the end. They both knew what Kaah had been doing, and he had been caught out and beaten. Some of the padawans were snickering in the background.
"Shien, a study in strength," said Ramon. "This is perhaps the best of the basic forms. Certainly it's the most popular. It is aggressive, like Ataru, but focuses first on a strong defence; moving on to repelling attacks back at the attacker, and striking back firm and fast. Not just lasers, lightsabers as well. About the only time when this form won't work well is when your opponent is noticeably stronger than you."
Ramon smiled as he saw the shocked faces on some of the female padawans, obviously thinking that they wouldn't be able to use it against men. They would figure out soon enough that a Jedi's strength was determined by both physical ability and how much they could fortify it with the Force. Ramon had seen Sith men overpowered by the women in the Empire, making the mistake of thinking that they would never dare to challenge them strength for strength.
Kaah now seemed suitably subdued, and did not try to best Ramon again during the practice session, saving himself a further lesson in humility. They showcased Jisu next, a form that hadn't been seen in the Republic prior to the ex-Sith's arrival. It was a new form, not a particularly popular one, but useful because it filled the gaps that other forms left in the complete study of lightsaber combat. Kaah battled with it somewhat, resorting to moves from other forms. None of the padawans would have noticed, but Ramon did. He would have to train Kaah again some other times.
"Jisu," Ramon explained, "is a study in speed. It is similar to Makashi in that it focuses on stabs and short cuts rather than building force and momentum to deliver a powerful blow. It's not particularly effective in itself, but can be very effective when incorporated into another form."
"You keep speaking about 'incorporating forms,' Master," said one of the initiates. Ironically, for one who had just called him 'Master', he was at least twice Ramon's age. "What do you mean by that?" The others murmured in agreement.
Ramon nodded. "Fair question, I was going to get to it next lesson, but you may as well know now. Regardless of whether you advance to the advanced lightsaber forms, or even master every form, you will have a base form – one that you will open combat with, even if you later choose to change form, depending on the situation. I have one, so do other experienced masters like Marka, all Jedi should have."
There was a sudden babble of earnest voices. "What's yours?" "Marka's?" "Yours Master? "Master Kaah's favourite?" "Master Marka's, please."
Ramon raised his hand for silence. When they quieted, he answered, "Mine is Shien, with elements of Makashi. Marka's is classic Sokan, he denies it but I still think he utilises elements of Shien. Kaah, have you decided on your base form yet?"
"Mine used to be Ataru," Kaah replied, "but now I prefer Shien with some elements of Ataru."
"When you decide on a form, you will most likely not stay with the classic form," Ramon explained. It was interesting that Kaah had chosen Shien, like Ramon, but then he was probably best suited to it. "Everybody's different, so you will likely mix and match until you find your perfect combination. All master swordsmen have plenty of self-styled combinations, as well as a few forms they've created themselves. Remember though: it is essential to always begin a duel your best combination."
"Why not start with a weaker one, and then surprise them with a stronger one?" asked a wiry humanoid. Ramon stared at him for a moment, trying to determine his species.
"And run the risk of being killed in the first few moves? Not smart." It was Kaah who spoke. Ramon hid a smile, he had learned well.
While Ramon and Kaah were both colleagues on the Jedi council, and roughly the same age, Ramon was, by far, superior with a lightsaber and Force power. Not surprising, since he had trained in the Sith empire, often with Marka. He had even been graded in the top-fifty Sith in the empire, but only just. Kaah was his student in that field, and a very good one, but he was Kaah's student in another. For Kaah was a model Jedi, nothing like the soulless model that Jedi had been expected to aspire to before, but everything like a true Jedi, a true servant of the light should be. He wasn't perfect, he never claimed to be, but for Ramon, who had grown up around Sith; being around him was nothing short of an amazing experience. Thus they both grew in each other's presence. Ramon suspected that Bastila might have had that in mind when she'd assigned them here together.
They had spent enough time talking, and it was nearly lunch time, so Ramon asked, "Who knows what form VII is?"
"Is it Sokan?" asked a young man, his eyes shining. He was perhaps slightly younger than Ramon's twenty-four years.
Ramon nodded, realising too late that it had probably been a mistake to mention that it was Marka's favourite form. It was a well known fact that he was the most powerful Jedi, a fact that had been highly publicised a few months ago when Astin Lamar had challenged him to duel as a result of a vote in the council that hadn't gone his way.
The older Jedi had been beaten humiliatingly easily; it had all been caught on tape by some busybody with a long distance lens and had ended up on holo-net. The duel had become something of a standing joke in the Jedi order, one that shouldn't be uttered in Astin's earshot. It had served to make Marka's skill well known, and now would likely colour these initiate's decision as to what form to aspire to. The problem was that out of the first seven forms, Sokan was by far the most complicated. By all rights, it should be listed as one of the more advanced forms.
Kaah had improved noticeably in the form since the last time Ramon had faced him. They squared off with controlled attacks, classical defence and impeccable footwork, constantly trying to maneuver each other into a complicated position. To the casual observer it may have seemed like a subdued version of Ataru, but there was far more to it than that.
"Sokan is a study in positioning," said Ramon when he and Kaah had broken apart. "It's largely a mix between Soresu's defense, and some of Ataru's attack and acrobatics, but on a far more controlled level. A Sokan Master will attempt, if they cannot beat their opponent immediately, to force them into a position where they are inhibited in some way; and can be crushed without a chance of reprisal. It's a powerful form, but can require patience at times."
Ramon noticed how many more of the padawans seemed to be hanging onto his words, so he added, "I must warn, though, to train in this form you must first be proficient in both Soresu and Ataru." That brought more than a few long faces, others simply looked thoughtful, some even ambitious.
Other padawans further away were making their way towards the mess, seeing them reminded Ramon that it was time for lunch. He called the class to a halt, and said goodbye to them. It was unlikely that he would be taking them again, especially with Kaah. Junior Jedi took the initiates classes in-between their own. While Ramon and Kaah made a point of taking each new class at least once, to make sure that the new initiates knew who they were and respected them, they generally concentrated on the most advanced students, who would gain the most by being taught by them.
--
Telos, Jedi Academy, Kaya's quarters
She woke up feeling groggy, was that a word? Who was she, yes 'she', she was a woman, a young woman. She knew that. There was a dead weight across her, what was that? Why did her abdomen ache? Her name was short, simple. I have just given birth!
Suddenly it all came back to her. She was Kaya, a Jedi. A Jedi Master and on the council at that. She was in her quarters in the academy, which resided on her home planet of Alderon. She registered that she was in comfortable pyjamas as she sat up suddenly. The dead weight across her body stirred, but did not wake. She put her hand on his head and ran her fingers through his short hair. It was Marka, she knew. He had come, and must have fallen asleep waiting on her to awake. A feeling of intense warmth washed over her, it had been nearly two months since she had been in his physical presence, busy as he had been preparing the Jedi. She had forgotten what being with him felt like, how everything seemed more…real. Then she remembered the terrible visions she had seen, how in nearly every one he had been murdered. There was only one she had seen that may have had hope, she hadn't even seen it through to the end. But for that one to happen, she would have to…. No, she decided, it was unthinkable. She sighed softly and closed her eyes.
Kaya tried to meditate, determined to reach that level that she'd been at before, but she couldn't even get close. It was like her ability had never existed at all. Maybe it only manifested itself at birth? Kaya shook her head to rid herself of that ridiculous idea. But then why could she not get there again? It did not make any sense. But she was convinced that the visions were real, and now not being able to return to that place of possible futures, she would just have to act on what she already knew.
Gently, so as not to wake him, she slid her legs out from underneath Marka, and got off her bed. A spasm of pain hit her as she tried to walk, Kaya simply poured the correct manipulation of Force into the offending region, and was fully healed in less than a minute. She walked to the small attached room that had been prepared for her, and sure enough, there was the cot with her daughter Belaya in it. Their daughter, she chastised herself, and felt an instant surge of affection for the infant who lay sleeping. She had expected to feel that way, but the sudden intensity of it surprised her. She sighed; she couldn't allow her child, their daughter, to grow up in a galaxy held in the tender-loving grip of the Sith.
Kaya resisted the urge to take the sleeping child into her arms, and hold her close, protect her. She glanced back at Marka, who was still asleep. Kaya hardened her heart, clenching her fists as she come to the most excruciating decision she hoped she would ever have to make. She would follow the only path that might hold hope for the Republic, and her husband. Tears slid slowly down her cheeks, she knew what she would to have to do. She knew what she would lose. Would it be worth it? It had to be. Sighing, she dried her eyes, and started to dress. She knew that she could keep what belonged to her for a week longer, maybe two, if she did something tonight. She steeled herself; it had to be done.
She finished dressing, and bent over Marka to kiss him. "Forgive me, braveheart," she whispered. "I'm doing this for us, all of us." Marka stirred as his wife subtlety manipulated the Force around his head and murmured something in his sleep.
But Kaya was already gone.