Chapter 4

Another drop of stagnant, stinking fuel landed in Stass' lap. Her nose wrinkled at the scent, and she brushed it off the thick cloth. She glanced up at the roof, peering through the red glare of the emergency lights at the foreign jumble of numerously coloured and sized pipes and wires which twisted together to form what she could only assume was some kind of complex fuel system to feed the engines. Her padawan's bare feet sat on the headrest beside her, the boots long abandoned on one of the rear passenger seats. He currently sat upside down in the pilot's seat; back against the seat and legs sprawled over the reclined headrest. His unruly mop of dark blonde hair was hidden underneath the control board as he fiddled with some wires or conduits or maybe even the complex circuitry hidden there.

The ship they had 'acquired' was parked in a debris field three hours sublight from Hala. After finally losing the Pyke starfighters, Caloc had determined that they needed to make repairs before jumping to Coruscant. They would risk exploding if they attempted it now. Stass stared at the asteroids hovering and spinning outside the canopy, and she held out her hand, mentally imagining herself holding one between her fingers. She resisted the temptation to use the Force to move it. Hiding in the middle of nowhere was boring for her, but she knew it was essential.

"You had to pick the rundown freighter.", Stass muttered quietly, trying not to be heard.

"Stop your complaining, Master.", the muffled voice of her padawan filtered through the control panel, "This ship is amazing. The only problem is whoever owned it last. Whichever smuggler we took it from did not look after their freighter properly. I mean, how hard is it to put your ship in to a maintenance station every now and then."

Stass rolled her eyes, "Did you find the problem yet? Can we get into hyperspace?"

"Relax, Stass.", the chair spun around in place to show her student's blue eyes staring up at her. "This ship has been through a lot of modifications, even before whoever currently owned it modified it for speed. The PT-6073 is an amazing freighter. They were used on Utapau first, transporting those really rare minerals found in the underground caverns. After that, they were retrofitted to be Mandalorian troop transports. During the Mandalorian civil war, they were one of the most elusive ships. Instead of paying for additional shields, the Mandalorians would refit the wings with Beskar, then use shields the crew compartments. Lately, these beauties are pretty obsolete. Collectors pay millions to get their hands on one, but most were stripped for their Beskar. This one should be an antique: unflyable. No idea how this pilot found it, but he modified it to be fast. Also, there is gear here to completely scramble ident codes and fool recognition systems. If I had to make an educated guess, this is one of the few that survived the wars of Ryl, when the people there converted these ships into blockade runners."

She stared at him for a moment. Caloc normally fell behind in his studies, but that seemed like an encyclopedia's worth of information on one ship.

He spun beneath the console again, "I've wanted a PT-6073 ever since I saw that one on Rodia during my youngling days."

Swinging her feet up onto the dash, Stass let out a contented sigh, "Any other intriguing details while you work?"

"Sure.", Caloc's head was under the controls again. "When we were trying to escape, one of the Pyke cannons hit one of the rear power convertors. It's a tricky design, only sourced from Mandalore or Sykaracs. Both are controlled by Mandalorian clans. That makes this part very had to replace."

That caught her attention. "Wait, so are we stuck out here?"

A wrench skittered out from under the controls. "Normally, yes. But there is one thing that I could try. This ship was built for speed and modified to run blockades. With the limited cargo in the relatively spacious hold, I have to assume that it is either a racing ship, or a smuggling ship. Either one will be equipped with an energy bypass ring for emergencies. That should get the hyperdrive working again."

"Tell me when you find it.", Stass answered, wriggling impatiently in her chair.

She watched another tool rise on its own and float to the tinkering padawan's waiting hand. He mumbled something that was muffled by the metal console between them. With nothing else to do, Stass thought back to the day before. It had been a hard day for her and still seemed surreal. The time between then and now seemed like a crazy blur. One minute she had been standing outside the council chamber, and the next she had been reading theoretical theatre in the Pyke prison cells.

Stass stood in the center of the Council chamber, staring at the single occupied chair in the room. Master Yoda stared back, unmoving. He could have been a statue if not for the childish energy in his wizened eyes. His hands gripped his walking stick tightly. The stare-off continued for a few more minutes before the old, wrinkled Master spoke, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "Good day, Master Allie."

She bowed in return. "Master Yoda."

"Wonder why you are here, do you?", he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"I do.", Stass answered, slightly taken aback by the question. It was rare for the Grand Master to request a private audience. The last who had was her Master, during the first year of her training. It had not gone well. So, she was not only curious, but a little concerned for her own position within the Jedi hierarchy.

"Of course you do.", Yoda let out his annoyingly high-pitched giggle, "About your padawan, this is."

A family of butterflies suddenly appeared in Stass' stomach, trying to beat their way out through her skin. Swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling, she nodded slowly. Nine months earlier, Caloc's left arm had been seriously damaged during a mission when it was skewered by a sword. The resulting actions taken afterwards had torn a six-centimetre piece of bone from the arm.

With the nerves irreversibly damaged and unable to perform regular surgery, Rig Nema had been approached by the boy's father. The man had proposed an unorthodox experimental procedure. Without any other option, Nema and the other doctors had been forced to adapt the experimental blood transfusion to heal the bone. Now a dangerous mix of bacta and Klipton fuel pumped through the limb, attempting to heal the nerve damage and dull the near constant pain while allowing her padawan use of the limb.

The fact that the father had been made aware of his ilk's injury had caused a ripple of anxiety through the Order. The Jedi had practically shunned Caloc to the isolation wards, and sent Stass around the galaxy on what seemed like pointless missions. Then there was Devaron, another disaster mission where Caloc had fallen prey to a cave-in and barely survived. His time in isolation had doubled, and he had spent the last nine months alone.

She raised her head to look Yoda directly in the eye. "Is he alright?"

"In danger, the boy is not.", the aged Jedi answered, "Almost healed from Devaron, is his body. But action, he craves. Trained under many Jedi, he has in recent days. Trained to be the best student for you, I sense. But influenced by each teacher, he has become. Muddled, his skill and mind could become. Remind him of who he is, you must. Remind him of his purpose."

Stass frowned, "And how do I remind him of who he is? Caloc has always been a free spirit. He is reckless, he is unpredictable. Most of his characteristics comes from his experiences in the arena and during his clan years."

"Is his purpose found in this?", Yoda's ears wiggled in curiosity.

Sensing either a test or a trap, Stass thought about her answer carefully. She answered slowly and deliberately, "No, but his character was forged by it. I don't know if it is wise to let him train that way again."

"Then don't", the doors swished open and another figure walked in.

"Aayla!", Stass grinned and embraced the Twi'lek Jedi. "What are you doing here?"

Aayla laughed lightly at the warmth in her fellow Jedi's movements, "You and I both know I was one of Caloc's regular duelling partners while he has been recovering. He is a seriously skilled duellist. When I heard that the Council might be discussing his fate, I thought I should be here."

"How were you training him?", Stass asked. Even though Aayla was a good friend, the fact that she had essentially taken over Caloc's training was… a bit unnerving.

"Caloc and I spent a couple of months together after I took a bolt to the leg.", Aayla answered. "He suggested that we practice together to be at our best when called back to duty. I heard about his actions of Devaron. He did good work, even if he did need more time in the tubes."

Stass let out long sigh, "I am proud of him. But what did you mean before? Do you have a suggestion about how to train Caloc?"

The Twi'lek looked over at Yoda for permission to continue. He nodded briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly and she took a step back. A holographic image appeared before them, flickering uncertainly in the morning light. It appeared to be a recording, most likely from a high end droid camera, if the quality was anything to go off. Stass didn't recognise where it was from, but she knew the figure displayed in the centre of the hologram.

"Caloc snuck out about a month ago.", Aayla said, pointing to the shadowy form, "He went to the Coruscant Underworld, Level 1943, where he found this man."

Stass watched as her padawan climbed up and down a section of pipes, leaping from tiny foothold to tiny foothold as he followed a white-furred Gigoran down below him. They seemed to be in one of the less than savoury areas of the Level, with shadows crawling up the walls. Suddenly, he leapt down, landing on the beastly figure. Much to her surprise, she recognised the surgical scars around the man's eyes. It was Tivia, a dangerous arms dealer who stole weapons from the Republic's military suppliers and sold them on the black market. As she watched, Caloc locked his arm around the massive gargantuan neck

"You may notice the skills your padawan uses in the next few minutes.", Aayla excitedly shook Stass' shoulder.

Indeed, Tivia easily pulled the padawan off him and threw him to the side, but Caloc landed nimbly on his feet, flipping at the last second to land with the grace of a cat. He swept out his foot, knocking the huge Gigoran to the ground. Tivia turned the fall into a roll and launched himself at a nearby sewer grate, trying to escape. He was stopped as Caloc stretched out his hand and pulled the him back with the Force. He left the arms dealer hovering off the ground, upside down. A conversation of some kind pursued, and Aayla paused the recording.

"Caloc released Tivia.", she smiled, "But he also came to us with a lead."

That caught Stass' attention, "A lead for what?"

Another hologram appeared, a still-frame of a video she had been forced to watch a thousand times. Yoda spoke up again, "Familiar with the Pantoran bombings, I believe you are."

"Of course.", Stass answered, "It is a tragedy that I wish we could intervene with. But I was under the impression that we couldn't do anything to help them. There was political red tape around the whole system."

Aayla's smile widened. "Yet Caloc has managed to help them, at least in a small way."

At Stass' confused gesture, she explained further.

"Caloc somehow received information that Tivia had traded a crate of helox power cores to the Pykes. From our analysis, that is exactly the piece used in these explosions."

"So now I supposed you need someone to go and talk to the Pykes?", Stass asked.

"No.", Yoda smiled, "Talk to the Pykes, you will. And your padawan. Go with you, he shall. Deserves it, I believe he does."

An exuberant cry brought Stass out of her memory. Her eyes flew open and she glanced around, startled. Caloc was dancing around the frigate's cockpit, holding a twisted hook of metal. It took a moment for her to realise that the lights were back on, the bright white illuminating the cockpit. She sat up abruptly, grabbing her padawan's attention. He threw her the piece of metal.

"We can leave now, Master.", he grinned, "I managed to get around the power converter and activate the bypass ring. I think it's time to go back to the Temple."

Hey guys.

This story is getting interesting, right? The PT-6073 is my personal design. I love the design of the ship, and it will be incredible in future stories. Right now, it is a little bit of a mess.