Chapter 18: Tython – World of the Jedi

—« 1: Arrival »—

The Jedi's ancestral home-world of Tython was much like its chosen place of residence; beautiful and peaceful from afar, and perilous – but not less stunning – from within. The splendour of the Deep Core – strewn with stars aplenty and nebulae galore – I was able to enjoy in transit from the comfortable co-pilot's couch. For the planet itself, I had no such luxury.

Whereas the number of charted worlds in any region of the Galaxy was truly astronomical, the Deep Core boasted only thirty-one. The way to any one of the above, apart from Empress Teta and, perhaps, Ojom, was most unappealing to new pilots, so I was able to foist that duty onto Master Adi. Sadly, I had no such excuse for the re-entry into the atmosphere.

Tython's welcome mat to any visitors was its thermosphere. Until then, the journey was quite mundane, perfectly capable of lulling even the most experienced pilot into a state of peace. For those taking the night-side approach as we were, the peaceful effect was enriched by the spectacular flames of the twin polar aurorae that would rival Earth's own.

…And while the pilot was gaping, his ship would be buzzed by the ionic clouds that travelled at a much higher altitude above this strange world. And, not to mention, carried a much higher charge, perhaps enhanced through some trick of the Force, like the perpetual thunderstorms on Dromund Kaas.

The ionosphere was not the planet's only barrier against unwanted intruders. Due to higher than usual concentrations of air molecules in the mesosphere, incoming ships had to take slower velocities and more moderate insertion angles, or risk having their hulls melted straight off.

To my immense relief, the shields aboard the Theta T-2c were, as marketed, quite up to the task of preventing the burn-up of our ship during the second stage of re-entry. Making the evening even better was the fact that, like any of the floppy-wing Cygnus shuttles, the Theta possessed VTOL capability, making the landing a rather smooth one for all involved.

In retrospect, that was for the best. The Jedi built their ancient homes to last, but I highly doubted that the landing pad could have survived anything but a precise landing. As it was, when Masters Adi, Satele and I debarked, we were treated to a twilit view of cracked and scorched pavement, charred weed and singed creepers.

"This place," Satele stated in quiet reverie, "Was once the headquarters of the Jedi Order during the Cold War. It is nice to see it again; I have not been back here in over three thousand years…."

"I know how you feel…" I commiserated, quite unlike myself, giving away details of my past. "This place was your home, you built it. Gives quite the sense of accomplishment, seeing something that you did still there after some years…"

"And sorrow… that you weren't there to see it used…"

"But I thought that you led the Order from Tython?"

"Yes, I did, when I was not off dealing with some crisis or another. I was lucky if I could return to the Temple once a month to meet the council personally."

Three and a half millennia were not kind to the place. Ivy had taken up residence where it could, moss had covered the lower walls, and an oak-like tree had sprouted in the central hall, in between the two sweeping ramps that lead to the upper floor.

Even so, the structure remained sound, awaiting the return of the people whom it was built to serve. In the sagging ceilings and the crumbling pillars, the old majesty could still be seen, waiting for someone to restore it once again to greatness.

"The shuttle is secured," I reported from the door(way) to the Council chamber, our chosen dwelling place, as it was the only room with a solid roof, "It's not going anywhere in a hurry, and neither are we, for that matter."

"Nothing is going to happen, Padawan. Trust the Force…" Master Adi reassured me from her place by the fire. "Satele can always throw a rock at them, if it comes to it."

"After Vandelhelm, I definitely trust the Force…" I mumbled, settling myself against one of the boulders plugging a sizable hole in the western wall. "I also prefer to trust large calibre blasters, when they are in my possession."

"No one but us three and the Council know that we are even here," Satele joined in the conversation, materializing near the opposite wall.

"Yesh," I tried to sound curious, but being in the process of tearing off a ration bar wrapper with my teeth, I was not at all sure if I succeeded, "How did that happen anyway?"

"Very simple actually, we Force Ghosts have a – naturally –deeper connection to the Force, and though our interactions with the physical world are negligible," Satele passed a hand through a boulder to illustrate, "We have a very acute control over the mental aspects of the Force. That is how we were able to arrange your admission to the Order…."

Now I understood, still… "I do not imagine that such a trick would work twice?"

"It wouldn't."

"But how—unless… the Jedi would not want to risk a half-trained individual running amuck, not with the Sith threat revealed. This was your plan?"

"Hide your presence from them until you learned too much to be safely cut loose and let the Council handle the rest? Actually, yes…"

I chewed on my ration bar for a few long moments. From a certain point of view, this was a manipulation, and I really disliked people manipulating me. From another, I could not argue with the strategy, or the results. And besides, there was precious little to be gained from indignant displays et cetera, and a mighty lot to lose. As I so bluntly pointed out, the Clone Wars were rapidly drawing nigh.

"I must commend you on your hearing with the Council. You did well, and proven many of us correct…"

"That hearing, I don't really get it. They hardly asked me anything, I just stood there and fumbled with what to say… I'm still not sure if I did right by telling them what I did."

"Trust me," Satele said, joining our little circle, "You did well, the truth was the only thing you had available, and they will appreciate that in their deliberations."

"Still, I think I expected something more, perhaps a more serious atmosphere… I don't know, I don't know."

"For that I'm sorry, Nomi told us that perhaps, giving you a pre-set view of the Order may not have been a wise decision… Now I'm beginning to agree with her all-the-more."

—« 2: Meet-and-Greet »—

The sun dawned bright upon the forests of Tython. Bright and early. Ashla, the moon most associated with the Light Side of the Force by the early geezers, was hurriedly making for the horizon by the time the first rays of light penetrated some hitherto unnoticed gap and awoke us from our slumber.

Even before my venture into the Jedi life, I was an early riser. Always woke up at dawn and kept whatever hours necessary. This way, I found, you had more daylight to get what you needed done, and had an extra incentive to not stick around for the wee hours of the morning.

My morning exercise – which had gotten a rather excessive addition recently – completed, I gathered some esoteric supplies and headed off in search of our breakfast, well half of it, anyway.

The half after which I was responsible, could be found at a stream not far from the Temple. Setting up a battery of tests to verify that the water was drinkable, the plants were edible, and a few others with unpronounceable names, proved to be an easy – if time consuming – task, which had me return back to basecamp to an almost-cooked meal and a gathered company.

They were, of course, Force Ghosts – which should not have been all that surprising, given the nature and place of our visit, but nevertheless resulted in quite a bit of disbelief on my part.

I was introduced to them by Master Satele, which caused a humorously awkward moment when I realized that shaking hands with an incorporeal entity was…, tough, to say the least.

"Meetra you already know, by reputation if not sight, the same with my Grandmother, Bastila. Revan too, he has had quite an interest in your case," Satele smiled at that point, "It has been long since anyone indulged him in his schemes of training a substitute Dark Lord of the Sith. This is Dam-Powl, at part responsible for your presence here, and her protégé, Lanoree, who also helped out. The others are Biel Ductavis, Ngani Zho – my old Master – Giffis Fane and Belth Allusis."

With Qui-Gon, there was no need of introduction, as I had communicated with him in many times before, that left to last perhaps the most awkward of encounters, one with Nomi Sunrider.

To say that I approached her apparition with confidence would be an utter falsehood. One might wonder the cause of my apprehension, but I should think if obvious, given my local alias. With a gulp and a bow I came near, not at all sure what reception I would face.

As it turned out, a friendly one… "Relax Padawan, I hold no grudge against you. One might even say that I am honoured by your choice, few of your era remember us old timers." It was said with a smile, one that I was able to both hear and sense, and, on this matter at least, I could breathe a lot easier.

—« 3: Roots of the Force »—

"Who were the Je'daii?" I asked of my companion, while taking a brief respite from my clearing efforts. With the assistance of my saberstaff, felling the trees and cleaving apart shrubs was a walk in the park, but the use of near-constant telekinesis to move the severed objects into neat piles began to take a mental – and consequently, physical – toll. It was a good exercise in endurance, and a chance to learn more of the past.

"Quite different from the Order of today," Lanoree Brock answered after a moment of thought. "Back then, we were more a people than an Order, the sole occupants of Tython, living on a world where no one else could survive…."

"Wildlife?" I wondered, "What is this place, Kashyyyk?"

"Not quite, much fewer Wookiees…" my joke was answered in kind, "Though most of the predators are quite vicious, they are not the primary danger. Nay, that falls to the numerous Force Storms and Nexuses that cover the planet. It is as if Tython was made for Jedi, and for Jedi alone."

"I bet that the non-Sensitives were less than thrilled."

"Not actually. Most were quite happy to settle on the other worlds as soon as ships were built. They had their own governments, their own lands, and they could protect themselves against whatever trouble arose."

"Most you say? I take it that one or two little warlords arose, preaching that the Jedi were oppressing them, not letting them exit the system, and were generally the answer to all evils that befell the common folk?"

"How'd you guess?" Lanoree snorted loudly, quite an impressive feat for a non-corporeal entity. "First there was Hadiya, who amassed something like a million fighting men and attacked Tython. She was, of course, soundly defeated, but with a Je'daii casualty count of a hundred thousand. The second was my brother, who – without regard for the consequence of his actions – tried to activate a hypergate. It would have been fine and dandy if he had not risked blowing the system to smithereens."

"I guess that whatever epoch one dwells in, there will be the grossly incompetent, the hopelessly idealistic, and the ridiculously stupid." I could not resist commenting. "So, what happened to them? The Je'daii, I mean?"

"The Rakata invaded the Tython system, creating ten years of war. The Je'daii Order had two major flaws; their naiveté about life outside the Force, and their lack of experience in dealing with the followers of the Dark Side."

"How so?"

"The early Je'daii ideal was to always be in Balance. Neither straying to the Light Side, nor the Dark. Each act of violence had to be offset by either a very good reason, or by an act of kindness. It was a good system, too good in fact. When the Rakata skewed the Balance in favour of the Dark, the Je'daii were too busy fighting a war to regain their equilibrium. Barely had the Order begun to rebuilt, when Rajivari launched his coup. The Je'daii were battered after so many conflicts, and, in their desire for peace, overbalanced in favour of the Light, becoming the Jedi we know now."

"Quite remarkable…." I paused to uproot another unwanted resident, and then continued, "The Galaxy barely withstood the onslaught of the Mando'ade, what effect an entire society of Force-Users would have, I shudder to think…."

"And so you should," Lanoree told me in a solemn tone, "If a Mandalorian depends on his strength, a Jedi has no such restriction. One needs not be a prodigy to be fierce in battle. The Force is a powerful ally indeed…"

"I don't doubt that." I stated, punctuating my words by shifting a thick trunk to the side with but a thought.

"Perhaps not that, but you do have reservations about the War to come…."

"Wars, Lanoree, wars." I sighed, feeling a sudden weight fall upon me, one having nothing to do with the physical realm. "'Always in motion is the future, and many possible futures there are…' says Master Yoda, and with him I agree. Yet in this at least, the future is certain: the forthcoming century will be rife with conflict. How do I fight to the same effect as those who have trained for decades, when I am only starting now? The answer is: I simply can't, and to think otherwise would be folly."

"From a certain point of view, yes. You do not have to compare in power to those such as the Skywalkers, and this you know, but you forget basic physics: with a constant Force, pressure increases when the area is reduced. The Force can be applied on a similar principle, too many Jedi in the modern age forego finesse, and instead seek to achieve their aims through raw strength alone. Not only is that wasteful, but it also levels the playing field for those of less might."

"Yet such proficiency mandates great experience, and that can only be gained through training and practice? The latter should be of no great difficulty to acquire, but where do I come by the former?"

"Right here, Nik, right here…" Lanoree spoke in amusement and relief, as if I had fulfilled some hidden confidence, "We brought you here, and it is our duty – and intension – make certain that you weather the coming storm. And trust me, we will do what is in our power to see that you will."

That promise, I did not doubt.

—« 4: Intricacies of the Force »—

Meetra Surik was a good teacher. Good at her job, definitely, but also a good choice for teaching me what she was. Having severed her connection to the Force as a means of protecting herself against the powerful backlash of numerous deaths, she had spent ten years living a 'normal' life, and then went through the process of re-learning the Jedi path as an adult. Of all those on the Blue Club, she was, perhaps, the one with whom I could most relate, and the one who possessed the necessary perspective to get certain aspects of Force use across to me.

"For a youngling," she had told me, when my training under her had first begun, "mastery of oneself is not only necessary, but the easiest to accomplish. For one more-or-less set in their ways, direct manipulation of the Force should come before such disciplines as Force Speed or Leap." She had, of course, elaborated upon my request, "A young mind is more naturally attuned to the Force, making actions directly influencing the body the most accessible. The older one gets, the more the connection has to be forced, better to do so in a manner which will not result in physical harm."

She did, of course, neglect to mention that telekinesis had the unprecedented potential to cause physical harm when our lessons first began. The results of several ahem, disastrous, exercises involving the levitation of multiple heavy objects – including myself – necessitated the foray into the healing arts, which in turn, required further injury or affliction to be properly demonstrated.

A month of seeking out trouble under the guidance of a long-dead spirit had morphed into an impromptu exercise in Danger Sense and Battle Precognition, both useful skills, but those that mandated some bruises, scrapes and saber burns.

Dealing with the consequences of an exercise which involved a lot of pebbles and dodging, we had discovered a latent talent of mine, that of Farsight. The following week had seen the cessation of all other activities in favour of expanding on this ability, leading to the exercise in which I was presently engaged.

Among Jedi Seers, long-established wisdom held that one should never crave knowledge from the Force, as in this eventuality, one tended to see only what he wanted, at the cost of the picture at large. General consensus was that one should let the current of the Force carry oneself forward, only choosing the initial direction, and not interfering with the 'journey' itself.

Sentient nature resisted such loss of control, making those truly in tune with the Force an infinitesimal minority among their peers. Until such a time when one could learn to quieten the mind and accept the Force's guidance, a common workaround was to occupy oneself with a menial task. For me, that task was to maintain the steady orbits of multiple objects around my person while I awaited to see the journey upon which the Force would lead me.

"A planet…" I thought aloud, as that image coalesced. "One brimming with life, unlike anything I have felt. There is a scar, but it seems irrelevant, diminished somehow… as if it is healing."

"Good…" Meetra coached, "Do you have a name for it?"

"No… but I get a sense as if it is something I should know…" knowing better than to fret, I took a mental breath and patiently waited, while loose rocks, a crate and a canister of some sort serenely floated by. After a few minutes, I spoke up again, "This time it's a plane, trees are far off in the distance… a brook flows nearby. People… I sense purpose, but not apprehension; they are not mustering for conflict. They are… going about their daily lives? They feel, content…. There is something there though, something of significance, but not concern…."

My eyes opened and with a sigh I settled all the aloft objects back to their original places. "Sorry, Master Meetra, there is nothing else…"

Her ghost stood up from its perch and walked over to me, "Than you have learned today's lesson; not everything gained through the Force needs – or even has – completion. Sometimes the Force shows us some place, some time, where no evil is present and where life continues along its peaceful course. In a time of strife and darkness, it is refreshing to see Light prevail in a far off corner of space. " Walking out of the clearing she beckoned me to follow, "I think we are done with visions for a while… Tell me, have you heard of Alter Environment?"

—« 5: The Way of the Blade »—

The strike came when I could least afford it, of course. Coming on the heels of a blistering barrage of slashes and sweeps that left my weapon hopelessly out of position, the ornate rod whistled with the speed of its passage, heading directly for my unfortunate jaw. In keeping with Satele's philosophy of using everything that was at hand during combat, as well that of trying anything – no matter how insane – if it had a chance of keeping me alive, I brought my own hilt up to block.

To my surprise, the gambit succeeded. My weapon was not shattered on impact, nor torn out of my grasp. The millisecond of inattentiveness though, had me gracelessly hitting the dirt as a follow-up strike came within microns of giving me a shave. Apparently, my adversary harboured no doubts as to my combat prowess, which was more than I could say for myself, when going up against one of the Order's Grand Masters. Worse actually, she was the master of saberstaff combat.

"Any chance we can call it a day?" I shouted over the whiz and hum of my saberstaff as it completed an intricate defensive pattern while I retreated to more comfortable ground.

Satele Shan snorted in amusement. "Not a chance, we still haven't matched my duel with Malgus…"

The duel in question, fought on Alderaan during the Galactic War, was today's endurance benchmark. At two hours and thirteen minutes, it was certainly the longest exercise attempted to date, but far from being the most tiring one.

That honour fell to last Zhellday. Satele felt that a break from constant saberstaff drilling was in order, and instead devised a training session where my task was to maintain only Force defences—for six hours straight.

As a positive consequence to many such exercises, my fatigue threshold was vastly increased and I was able to maintain a fluid defence – be it with a saber or a protection bubble – for amounts of time that would have been inconceivable before Tython.

It could be argued that a Jar'kai practitioner was ideally suited for an age of blasters and tight quarters aboard ship; however the reality was that with the use of twin hilts, one forewent the freedom of drawing another weapon or launching Force attacks. A saberstaff on the contrary, even if it was not as manoeuvrable, allowed its bearer to retain the advantage given by the doubled deflection area while only requiring one hand.

That, as Satele told me when she first began my training with the weapon, would suit me well in the conflicts to come. Given our time constraints, it was decided that I would do better to make up with cunning my lack of combat experience when facing superior foes.

But cunning would come later, as situations demanded, for now, our focus was on Soresu, and on defence.

That was not to say however, that Satele did not want me taking advantage of opportunities if they arose. Granted, they arose infrequently, and only as tests of my perceptiveness, but nevertheless, arise they did. This was one such time. Over the course of ten-or-so seconds, I had lost awareness of my surroundings and found myself backed against a tree.

Common wisdom stated that if a combatant was unfortunate enough to find himself in such a predicament, he should try diving to either side, or attempt to push back against his attacker. As my opponent was a Jedi Grand Master, those options would naturally be anticipated and countered. Instead, I chose to go up.

Trapping one of Satele's blades with mine so she would not do a sun djem and bereave me of my weapon, I leapt vertically, using one of Meetra's techniques to rotate myself around my own axis in mid-air, thus bringing the other blade – with considerable momentum – into Satele's from behind, sending it – and hopefully her – into the tree.

Only she didn't. Instead, she pivoted around and sent a powerful Force Wave my way just as I alighted. Instinct kicked in before rational thought could. Instead of ducking for cover and shielding – like a sensible person ought to have, I sent my own wave in return. "Precision over power" Lanoree had said and Meetra had taught. Even though surpassed in raw might, my Force Wave still held against Satele's for a brief moment.

Only for a moment though. A millisecond passed and with the force of a small explosion the two fronts of energy were flung apart.

The first of my protection spheres was set up to contain the blast. It held for no more than a second, but a second was enough for Satele to cover the distance to me with Force-enhanced speed and, now alongside me, deploy a stronger barrier. One that held against the shockwave and the debris that followed.

"Well," I heard Satele say when the dust settled, "Now we can call it a day." She released the illusion and once more took on the appearance of a Force Ghost, a Force Ghost who was extremely pleased with herself. "Good work, Nik. Exactly what I hoped for…. Tomorrow, we start with Ataru, 'more slaughter per swing', remember?"

—« 6: A Ghostly Send-off »—

It was a crisp winter evening, the sun setting behind the western horizon and the snowflakes methodically falling, covering the Tythan conifers and planes in a majestic blanket of white. Strolling along the well-trodden path back to the Cold War Temple, I found myself in deep discussion with Masters Revan, Giffis and Belth.

"Strategically, it makes sense." I mused aloud, "Abregado is on the other end of the Shapani Bypass, easy to get materiel between it and Tallaan, and that is what doesn't sit well with me."

"Oh?" Giffis prodded, "Do elaborate…"

"For something so complex, a simple hyerlane seems too far out of character. I must admit that hiding their messages in cargo manifest files is an inventive trick, but it is the only one of its kind. Everything else is just a little too shallow. No scheme within scheme as we saw with the Vandelhelm business."

"I would say," Revan cut in, "that this gives more incentive for the Council to hit Tallaan – when something does not add up, you should always find the missing numbers."

"Indeed," I answered almost immediately, "That is what I would have advised. However, I would also have advised that command be given to an experienced small unit commander. I am neither experienced, nor a small unit commander."

"No, but you are a tactician and strategist…" Belth Allusis – with whom I had played many-a game of chess – knew all too well what he was talking about.

A wave of the Force that cleared away the snowdrift in our path gave me a two second respite in which to think. "I like to think that I am. Thinking however, in no way grants me actual battlefield experience, and the Council knows this. Which means that this op is a test, a test of my ability to think on my feet and lead, but what else? I do not figure the Council as the type to deliberately set one up for failure. Nor do I see them sending other Knights on – what has a better than even chance of becoming – a high-casualty mission. Which begs the question of what they expect from me…?"

"To me," Giffis propounded, "It seems that the Council has made a favourable decision in your case, and now wishes to know what you are capable of, and what your best use would be to the Order. Treat this as you would one of your solo mobility exercises."

"Well, I doubt that meticulous study of the airbus schedule will be all that is required…" I said with a chortle. "Though I will certainly endeavour to cover that basis…"

Amusement rippled through the Force for the remainder of the journey. Then, as the lights of the somewhat restored Jedi Temple became visible, the mood shifted to that of slight regret and sadness.

For eight standard months had the fourteen of us lived alone on the planet, the Ghosts, Master Adi, and I. At first it had been somewhat awkward – mealtimes spring to mind – but the awkwardness had dissipated, leaving a comradely atmosphere that felt more like a camping trip than a Jedi Training crash course.

Needless to say, some sorrow was present at the time of our departure.

Meetra, who had enjoyed teaching another apprentice for the first time in many centuries, was the first to approach me with sage advice, "Remember the Force," she counselled, "It is a powerful ally, and with it you can achieve that which is thought impossible. Remember it, but do not let it become your only advantage, do not forsake normality and that which you already possess. Remember, the Force is with you most of the time; your mind is with you, always."

I nodded and smiled in recollection of the old in-joke, then, after a moment, turned to Revan. The former Darth was an interesting character, adamant in matters of honour and virtue, and unremitting in terms of morality, he nevertheless advocated a strategy of vicious defence when threatened, and decisive offense to avoid such a need. He was a good man, and a good teacher, and despite his years of war, possessed a wit on par with mine, which often carried across lessons that could not otherwise be taught.

"Remember," he said, "Shatterpoints are for doors, lightsabers are for doorways, the demolitions team is for everything else."

The goodbyes proceeded in this manner, each with some final counsel, or expression of confidence that went a long way toward bolstering my personal morale. As the evening deepened into full night, and all that needed to be said, was, our Cygnus Theta T-2c raised itself on repulsors, unfolded the vast wings and soared off into the skies of the Deep Core.

As I banked to come around for a better exit vector, I could still see the shimmering blue light on the landing pad which we had vacated, and through the Force, a twelve-voiced chorus bade, "May the Force be with you…."

And I did it... well, after going through four drafts, but I still did it.

This chapter, though holding not much in the way of revelation or action, forced me to tare up my original - what there was of it - plot for the story, which in turn caused a sleepless night or two.

The good news is that I have finally fleshed out many of those pesky details, and should be able to bring them together with relatively little effort. The key words are "should" and "relatively" though...

Now some time ago, a reviewer told me that it was strange that Nik was getting training from more than one Jedi Master, and with an extra three active ones - and the other nine of course - added to the story, I believe I should explain.

Examples exist, both in the time of the Je'daii - the Great Journey - and in the time between the Great Hyperspace and Second Great Galactic wars, of apprentices being taught by 'subject' Masters, like what ought to happen in a normal school. So the principle, in itself, is not unheard of. As such, it is logical that the Blue Club will wish to empart their knowledge in the most time-efficient way possible, hence why Meetra does the Force, Satele the saber, et cetera.

Before I go, a quick note on the planet. According to Darth Bane: Rule of Two, Tython is a baren desert. For my purposes, lets assume that the Jedi spirits have terraformed at least half of it back to its old glory, or deceived Bane with soemthing akin to a Fallanasi illusion.

With that out of the way, I would like to thank guest reviewer "saberguy" for his feedback.

On that note, thank you everyone for reading so far, and May the Fiction Be With You!

Clean Word Count: 5010 | Published: 16/12/13, 1030 GMT