Chapter Eight: Training Montage with Music

Thane woke with a smile the next morning. Unlike the last several times he had woken (blaring sirens, falling out of bed, falling off a bench) this time everything was quiet and he was in a large and comfortable bed that was in a room he only had to share if he so chose. And despite the many offers he had received from the female population of the Conclave, Thane had chosen to just sleep instead of participating in any nighttime activities (such as capture the flag, hide-and-go-seek, sardines…)

His fears about the sparse population of Dannon were instantly nullified when the people of the Conclave flocked to him. He didn't know how they knew who he was or why they treated him like he was some kind of a hero or celebrity, but he loved the attention and reveled in it. They followed him around the Conclave as the Masters gave him a tour, swooning, cheering, and offering favors. Children wanted to hold his hand, men wanted to shake his hand, and women wanted to, well…

The only thing that seemed strange about the previous day was how easy everything had been. The Masters had wanted to test him on a few basics—lifting rocks with his mind, catching things while blindfolded, picking people out of a lineup (blindfolded)—all of which came to him as naturally as walking in a straight line did while sloshed. Today he was to go even further, some of which meant stretching his brain in ways he didn't know possible and others of which meant stretching his body in ways he was proud of.

The general population of the Conclave was surprised to see him receiving training from the Masters. As far as they knew, he was already a Knight of the highest caliber and, sure, he had disappeared for awhile, but that wasn't terribly unusual. Jedi went away all the time following dreams of becoming the mysterious and silent hero who swoops in when he's needed and disappears before anyone quite realizes he was there. A sort of Dark Knight, if you will. But it was almost as if he was trying to push them all away now that he was back; as if he was too good to associated with them. In reality, all Thane wanted was their attention.

What really irked everyone was that he knew his name, and he had basically the same personality but, as some of his former friends quickly found out, he didn't know who they were or why they were talking to him in such a familiar tone, as well as laughing in their faces when they told him he had once been a Jedi. And if there was one thing Smuggler Thane didn't liked, it was when strangers spoke to him as if they knew him and told him fantastic make-believe stories. It only led to trouble. The Jedi all saw that he was the same man—the same humor, the same voice, the same intolerable beauty as their former hero—but there was something about him that was different. Some who didn't know any better would say smug.

So, as it came to be, the Conclave quickly stopped following Thane from place to place. The other Jedi and pupils distanced themselves from this man who claimed to not remember them (who also claimed to never forget a face) and Thane became miserable and reluctant to continue training. Brazilla, Garth and company grew concerned by the big man's depression. It wasn't like him. He was made of sunshine and had irrevocable machismo, so to see him slink around without boasting about something was strange.

Brazilla was also concerned that Thane was heading down the road to remembering that he had been Darth Relevant, Super-Bad Villain Extraordinaire in a former life, so she set about trying to find some way to cheer him up. Garth was taken aback by her sudden change of heart and slight change of character, but was not terribly surprised in the long run. Thane was the kind of man you couldn't help but like, so when his depression resulted in a slumped posture and forlorn glances over his shoulders, even the coldest of cold hearts like Brazilla's melted a little. Thane was, after all, acting like the saddest of all pound puppies.

So, the Amazonian Jedi started by telling people that Thane had been terribly injured and that all of his memories had disappeared in a massive amnesic episode. In fact, she told them, when Thane woke up, he came to think that he was someone else and none of Brazilla's persuasions could convince him otherwise. That being the case, the Masters had chosen to retrain him in the ways of the Jedi rather than allow him back into the world with a fledging understanding of the gifts he had quickly discovered he possessed.

"Does he know all of that?" asked a pretty young woman. She was standing in front of a fair sized group of people that Brazilla had gathered to tell Thane's woeful and mostly-false tale of a misplaced identity.

"No," said Brazilla, tucking a magnificent lock of hair behind her ear, "and none of you had better tell him. He is already having enough difficulty with the person he thinks he is; we don't need to open up a channel that might allow his real personality back through. I don't think his mind could cope with the two consciouses."

Besides, Brazilla added to herself, that would mean the death of us all.

"Oooh," the group said as they turned to look at Thane, who had just appeared in the courtyard. He was wearing a grey sweat suit and had red sweat bands around his wrists and forehead. A towel draped around his neck took care of the rest of the sweat not otherwise covered. He had been outside the Conclave doing some kind of heavy physical activity, which was made even more obvious when he removed his shirt as if to show off his gleaming muscles; he had the body of a swimmer. Every woman (and several of the men) swooned despite being upset with him. When he looked up, however, they all looked away. Only Brazilla saw the big man's shoulders slump as he put his shirt back on. Even his ever effective tricks were becoming ineffectual.

"Excuse me," she said to the crowd before nimbly ducking away and running to Thane's side. She touched his arm to get his attention and could barely contain the shiver that shot down her spine.

"What do you want?" he asked. "What were you telling them?"

"I'm just trying to convince everyone that you're not an arrogant bastard," she said. "It's proving difficult."

"Gee, thanks." He pressed his lips together. "Do they realize that I've shown amazing constitution by not visiting Val's Hall since the first night? I'm even risking my health by not getting drunk every night."

Brazilla slid her hand down his arm and lifted Thane's wrist to look at the BAR.

"Your blood-alcohol ratio seems to be holding out. It hasn't dipped dangerously low, yet."

Thane looked at her. "You almost sound as if you care."

She looked back at him for a moment before pushing his wrist away. "Well, I don't. It must be the Conclave and all of this good will towards men that's hanging about in the air."

"You're growing soft, honey. I can help you out with that." Thane actually managed to waggle his eyebrows. "I'm becoming pretty well versed in the ways of the Force."

"You disgust me."

"Aw, c'mon. You need to learn to appreciate a little bit of well-placed innuendo."

"I do appreciate well-placed innuendo. I don't, however, appreciate straight out sexual invitations."

"Who said I would actually go through with it if you said yes? I'd probably be too flabbergasted to get going."

Brazilla laughed a real laugh. "I think you're looking for some kind of validation."

"Hey, I just want people to know I'm relevant, lovely." Thane smiled his killer smile and Brazilla paled slightly. The big former-smuggler figured he was getting his groove back—which proved to cheer him up quite well—when in reality…well, Brazilla's change in complexion really doesn't need much explanation.

After that, Thane's mood was noticeably better. People still didn't treat him like they had when he first arrived in the Conclave, but they no longer turned their back on him, either. Their unexplained sympathy was starting to get annoying, but Thane was not at a lack for company and the children once again cheered him as he ran by. It made Thane feel good.

--

Only a handful of weeks went by before the Masters announced that Thane was ready to enter his trials. Thane, who was under the impression that Jedi training took years upon years of study, was quite reasonably surprised.

"I'm sorry?" he said, addressing the four gathered Masters. "Do mine ears deceive?"

They looked at each other without looking at each other. It was quite a feat to behold.

"We believe you are ready," Adoy said.

"You have proved yourself to us," Czar continued.

"And we need you out on the front lines," Nixon concluded. "Fighting the good fight."

The fourth, unnamed Jedi Master simply nodded. Thane was beginning to suspect the man was a mute.

"Yeah, but I've only been at this for, like, twenty-three days. You sure you trust me with one of your lightswords?"

The Masters grimaced in unison. "Master Czar has repeatedly told you that the lightsaber," Adoy enunciated, "is an extension of your being, not some flimsy thing made of willpower and steel."

"I still think a blaster is more effective. Gimme a blaster any day…"

"The blaster is a clumsy weapon."

Thane rolled his eyes and wondered if there was any originality left in the galaxy.

"I still don't think…"

Czar cut him off. "You must admit that you've made leaps and bounds."

"Well, I suppose…"

"And you have advanced well beyond even our most advanced students," Adoy continued.

"I have always been more talented than most people…"

"And once you return from your trials, Brazilla will accompany you when you leave our Conclave. She will be our eyes and our ears," Nixon said with shifty eyes of his own.

"God dammit," Thane muttered. Brazilla elbowed him. "Ow…!"

The Masters looked down on them from their dais. The room was silent until Brazilla whispered something in Thane's ear. He cleared his throat.

"So what do you want me to do?"

Brazilla's lips pursed.

This time, ominous silence fell.

Finally, the mysterious Master without a name spoke in a deep and booming voice.

"We need you to run an errand for us."

"You're shittin' me. Ow…!" Brazilla elbowed him again, causing Thane to pronounce even the punctuation in his groan.

"But this isn't just any errand," the Task Master went on. "We need you to bring light to a darkened place where anti-light has set in."

"How many Jedi does it take, eh?"

The Task Master lifted his brow and smiled without moving his lips. "The Force will guide you, Thane Sunrider."

--

"The Force will guide me," muttered Thane as he, Garth, and Brazilla left the Conclave. The others opted to remain behind in the Pigeon and play games rather than go on some damn fool expedition for the Jedi Masters. "The Force will guide me. What the hell does that mean?"

He shot a glance at Brazilla, who shrugged. "You'll find out in time."

Thane snorted. "What kind of an answer is that?"

"One that follows my strict no-helping contract with the Masters. Garth isn't allowed to help, either."

"Then why are you two coming with me?"

"To keep you alive. It doesn't count as helping, apparently," said Garth, who looked like he was thinking. "Life is a gift, Thane, so allowing you to stay alive is more of a present we're giving you than it is a helping gesture."

"And the Masters want you alive," Brazilla said.

"I can take care of myself. Watch me."

Thane promptly fell flat on his face as he missed a step. Brazilla grinned as she kneeled next to him, grabbed a handful of his tunic, and flipped him on his back. "Don't need help, hmm?"

"Easy, honey," Thane said. "Not in front of the kid." Brazilla rolled her eyes. Garth didn't seem to notice.

"Up you get. We have to get past the merchants right quick; otherwise we might get trapped for hours only to leave with a few knick-knacks feeling used."

"I don't like being used," Thane said, standing. "Most of the time."

Brazilla ignored him and told Garth the plan of action. Without giving the soldier a chance to argue, Brazilla took off at top speed, the two men at her heels.

As they approached the jungle of mobile shops, the merchants perked up: new blood. They cleared their throats in one intake of air that suffocated several small birds in the area and started to speak at the threshold of pain. Thane put his hands over his ears, his new Jedi training abandoning him in fear of the shopkeepers. He even started to run with his eyes closed, swerving around children and short people in a wild gallop.

Overall, it took no more than a minute to run the gauntlet, even though Garth nearly didn't make it. A banjo salesman had been present and the deals were almost too good to be true. It took both Jedi to drag him away from the stall, their senses screaming out in pain.

"But I need one!" Garth said, struggling.

"That's not the banjo you're looking for," Thane said.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Garth looked about ready to cry until Thane shoved cotton in his ears. Then he just looked indignant.

After that, however, there were no real distractions (except for the shiny objects in the last stall that caught Thane's attention but nothing more) and they only truly allowed themselves to stop once they were out of sight of the shops. All three bent over their knees, gasping for air and basking in the lack of sound. Thane's ears were ringing and his brain was buzzing. By the look on his companion's faces, they were experiencing the same thing, even Garth who was digging the wads of fluff out of his ear canals.

"That has to be the single most terrible thing I have ever experienced," Thane said, straightening. Both Brazilla and Garth gave him blank stares, though the soldier's eyes seemed to be asking him where the hell he had been for the last four years of terror to think that had been terrible. The large smuggler-turned-Jedi furrowed his brow. "Right. Let's get this thing over with. This task has got to be a piece of cake compared to that."

His Jedi senses tingled. Thane wasn't sure if he liked that feeling showing up in the back of his mind. "Something's behind me, isn't it?"

Brazilla and Garth nodded in unison.

"Shit," Thane said, turning around.

It was a probiotic. The large hyena-like brown hound seemed to be studying them, almost as surprised to see them as Thane was angry to see it. The Master's hadn't allowed him to carry a blaster, which meant he would have to deal with this thing with an unfamiliar weapon. He'd show them which one was clumsy…

Drawing his lightsaber and activating it, Thane narrowed his eyes in a way that only he could. The probiotic seemed to regret its decision to approach these tasty morsels but was driven by whatever force drives a hungry creature (probably hunger) and leapt at Thane. The thing was, Thane's new weapon could cut through virtually anything (except his great-aunt's fruit cake, he would later remember) and the probiotic's head quickly found itself moving in a very different direction than its torso.

"Whoa," Thane said in a breath. Maybe they had been right. This thing was pretty damn efficient, not to mention its pleasant green glow and minty fresh scent. A small memory woke up in the back of Thane's mind at the new lightsaber smell and the big man smiled.

But Thane didn't have much time to muse about his new best friend before the dead probiotic's friends showed up. And they looked angry.

"I might need y'alls help after all," he said, staring down the throat of the pup's mother. Damn, she was big. Big enough, in fact, for Thane to ride like a tauntaun.

Ye-haw.

A/N: Well, I've started playing the game again, so hopefully I'll quickly catch up to where I am in the parody so I can actually do a decent job at it… Though, I've also started playing Mass Effect again, so, yeah. The graphics might convince me to spend my time playing the 360 game more.

Oh, and because I'm a fan of giving credit where credit is due: In the previous chapter, I paraphrased the Boosh (the made of sunshine line), used them again for the title of this chapter, and borrowed some Led Zeppelin lyrics from the Immigrant Song ("they come from the land of the ice and snow" etc) for those who are familiar with all that jazz. And in many of these chapters, I paraphrase Star Wars some more. Just covering all my bases here.