Chapter 12: Training
Dawn breaks over the desert as the Mantis rises off the pad at the spaceport and turns toward the low mountains in the east.
"Why are we coming out here?" asks Ilyana from behind the Captain's chair.
"We're looking for a place to set down so we can train without being seen," answers Cal from the co-pilot's seat while managing the sensors to help Greez navigate up and down the dry, rocky ravines. After nearly an hour he points towards a wide, flat outcropping and asks, "What about that?"
"That'll do it," says Greez, flipping buttons on the controls then swings the ship around and heads back to the outcropping. With practiced skill, Greez masterfully lands the ship with barely a jerk.
Earlier that morning, shortly before dawn, Cal and Merrin had gone to the courier's office to ask about the boy. Unfortunately, they were told that he had been sent out on a call and would not return for several days, leaving Cal dejected and worried that he had missed his one chance to help this kid. However, once the Mantis touched down on that outcrop he felt his spirit rise again. Training with Ilyana would be good for both of them. They would get some practice in and it would give him something else to focus on for a while.
"Come on," Cal says to Ilyana on his way out of the cockpit. He unlocks the weapon mount, taking her staff down from the wall near the holotable where it has been stored and leaves the ship.
Outside, his boots crunch on the dusty red rock as he walks halfway out into the open space then turns to face Ilyana and tosses her the staff.
"I seem to recall you saying you would win if we fought."
Ilyana shrugs, "It's a possibility."
"Time to find out," he says, drawing his lightsaber and igniting both of the blades. Ilyana activates the dual emitters of her electrostaff in response and Cal is immediately struck by the change in her demeanor as she readies for combat; the focus and singular intent on her face. Again, the person he had laughed with in the cantina disappears. Now only the Purge Trooper stands before him, ready to fight.
She's not going to make this easy. How far will she take it? How far will I have to go? Maybe Cere was right and all of this was done to get me off guard.
The questions flash through his mind in the instant before she raises her staff. She quickly closes the distance between them and swings. Cal blocks her attack with one end of his lightsaber then swiftly shifts his balance to bring up the opposite blade and strikes back at her. She responds in kind and they parry and counter several times in quick succession.
I almost forgot how hard they hit. Cal thinks at the shudder running through his blade with each strike. For a while now they had managed to stay out of sight of the Inquisition so fights with Purge Troopers have become something of a rarity, but with each strike his past experiences come back to him and he adjusts his techniques.
Sparks fly as the blades of his lightsaber make contact with the emitters of her electrostaff. She had been moving backwards slightly over the last few strikes but now she sees an opening, slipping her staff past his guard and slamming into his chest. Cal is thrown back a few feet and as he recovers she launches the end of her staff directly at the center of his chest again, but with greater force but Cal raises his hand and uses the Force to push her, narrowly preventing her from making contact.
Purge Troopers are trained to withstand force attacks so instead of being thrown off her feet as a stormtrooper would have been, she bends her knees, lowering her center of gravity, and slams the end of her staff into the ground. The electrostaff may not be as strong as an electrohammer nor as fast as electrobatons, but it does have the advantage of counterbalance, which she takes advantage of now. With one end of the staff still firmly embedded in the dirt, she lunges forward using the staff to launch herself forward toward Cal faster than she would otherwise be able to. As she does so, she pulls the end out of the ground and swiftly flips it up and brings it back down in an overhead strike at Cal.
Cal side steps slightly and parries the strike, sending down it toward her forward foot and throwing her balance off just enough to give him an opening he needs. He spins toward his back foot and sends the other end of his lightsaber out behind him directly toward her ribs but stops its advance mere inches before it hits her.
They both stand there frozen for a moment, eyes locked, till Ilyana nods, conceding the defeat.
"Not bad," says Cal as they both step back from each other and deactivate their weapons, "Again?"
"Again," Ilyana agrees enthusiastically. Despite years of training she has never before fought a Jedi; to finally have the chance is exhilarating.
Ilyana lost count of how many times they fought but each one ended the same; she lost. Eventually, finally, she has enough.
"Dammit!" she yells, tossing down her staff and seething with fury.
"It's okay," says Cal, "You just need..."
"It's not, Jedi!" she yells, completely losing her temper, "Dammit, Lanue!"
"Okay. Who is Lanue?" Cal asks.
"My instructor," she answers, frustratingly running her fingers through her hair and begins to pace as she continues. "The man who trained the Purge Troopers. He defected and we were sent to track him down. When I found him he told me that they lied to us, that the Inquisitors were afraid of us. They were afraid we might become strong enough to be a threat to them so they held us back; limited our training. We were lied to. We were set up to fail, again! From the first time they dropped me onto the battlefield with that junk armor and a faulty weapon, I was supposed to fail. I was only ever meant to die!"
Cal had watched as she paced back and forth talking furiously, then she dropped down to the ground at the edge of the outcropping and stared out over the rocky ravine. He puts his lightsaber away and joins her. They sit silently for a moment watching the sun sink towards the horizon and catch their breath.
"I knew it was true," she finally admits, "but I didn't want to believe it. Honestly, I don't know why it bothers me so much. I never wanted to be a part of the Empire."
"I think it's important for people to feel wanted," Cal offers.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Well, if it's any comfort," he adds, "I can promise you, you're definitely wanted by the Empire now."
Ilyana rolls her eyes at him and laughs, "Oh, that was terrible but thank you."
"What happened to him, your teacher?"
Ilyana shakes her head, "He died."
"Do all your stories end that way?"
"Probably," she answers, then nudges him in the arm with her elbow, "but I hope this one ends a little differently."
"Me too."
They sit quietly at the edge of the outcrop till the sun blinks out over the horizon and the sky changes from a mixture of yellows and golds to dark purples and blues.
"He wanted me to go with him," she says, seemingly out of nowhere. "Lanue. He wanted me to leave with him and join the rebels."
"You refused?"
"No, I didn't get the chance to answer," she says mournfully, "I think I might have said yes though."
Something about her tone made him ask, "Did you love him?"
"No. I don't know. It's difficult to get close to anyone when you're hiding"
"I know what that's like," says Cal, thinking about the years he spent hiding on Bracca. Just making friends was nearly impossible when he had to keep who and what he was a secret, much less any relationship more than that.
"Especially when they're Imperial," Ilyana adds, "but maybe if we had made it out..." she trails off.
Cal looks over at her and can see that she isn't looking at anything around them but rather at her memories.
"What about you?" she asks, "Do you have anyone special?"
"No. Not at the moment. Not really." Cal stutters and looks away.
Ilyana is not at all convinced by that answer but decides not to push further.
Cere had been watching them train from the ramp of the ship, vigilant and ready to step in in case Ilyana decided to actually try to kill him. While she watched, she could not help but feel a swelling of pride at the sight of Cal fighting. His abilities had come so far since he first came aboard the Mantis as a young man, somewhat clumsy with a lightsaber after years of disuse and terrified by the unexpected pursuit of Inquisitors. Initially she had questioned if he could ever become a Jedi again, after all he was barely more than a child when the purge happened with his training cut short, but she had also worried that the trauma of witnessing the clones' betrayal and the murder of his master would hold him back.
In time, however, he had proven not only his skill with the lightsaber and with the force but something deeper: The ability to manage his past and control his emotions to keep them from controlling him. To watch him now, maintaining patience and focus in a one-on-one fight with a Purge Trooper who has been trained to rely on anger and rage in combat was fascinating.
On a technical level they are almost equal, Ilyana might actually be slightly better but she continues to lose. Why? Just as the question flickered through her mind she knew the answer: Patience, or rather Ilyana's lack of patience. By all rights, Ilyana should have won most of these matches but she strikes just barely too soon and leaves herself open. Developing patience would likely be her greatest challenge.
When Ilyana lost her temper and threw down her staff, Cere felt a rush of superiority. The way of the Dark Side will always fail in the end. But as Ilyana continued to speak, her pride quickly turned to shame. She could no longer deny how much Ilyana reminded her of Trilla, the apprentice she had failed. She had often tried to imagine what Trilla had gone through that turned her into an Inquisitor but she had not considered the pain Trilla must have felt every day after that as well: To fight and bleed for an Empire who even considers someone as powerful as an Inquisitor to be disposable.
This is what they do. The Empire takes people, uses them up and discards them. They used Ilyana. They used Trilla. They destroyed Trilla.
Cere still does not trust Ilyana but she cannot help but wonder if this one can be saved.
Greez hangs his head out the door and calls to Cal and Ilyana to come in to eat. Cal, Cere, and Greez take the three seats at the table in the galley and Ilyana and Merrin sit on the sofa in the common area.
"This is really good, Greez." says Ilyana after trying a bite. "Thank you."
"Really!?" he asks.
"You've obviously never eaten in an Imperial mass hall," she replies sincerely.
"Well, no. I can't say I have," says Greez flatly, unsure if she meant that as an insult.
"The food there will keep you alive but that's all it does."
"You know," Cere says reflectively, "Sometimes I find myself missing the food served on the old Republic warships."
"Me too," says Cal, exchanging a coy glance with Cere.
"Hey, my food is so much better than all of that. Ask Merrin. She can't get enough," Greez shoots back defensively.
"Yes, Greez," says Merrin.
"See!"
"Well, Merrin did spend most of her life alone on Dathomir," says Cere.
Cal laughs quietly at the confused look on Ilyana's face and wonders if she had had even one casual friendship while in the Empire or if she really spent the whole time as a recluse.
"Fine!" says Greez, throwing two of his hands up and pushing his chair away from the table.
"Where are you going?" asks Cal.
"I am going to sit over there," Greez says defiantly, grabbing his plate and walking out of the galley, "with the ladies who appreciate what I do for them, unlike you two Jedi." Merrin moves down the sofa to make room for Greez.
Too far? Cal mouths to Cere but she just shrugs and goes back to eating quietly and Cal cannot help but smile at the confused look on Ilyana's face.
