Chapter 29
The Restored Triumph - hyperspace
Blue and red light clashed together, their auras dancing across the room before they deflected against each other. The light dissipated into bright sparks of orange that fell onto the ground, burning out in an instant. The tiny floating attack droid eyed the boy before it cautiously. Far more cautiously than he had before. This was not going how the droid had planned.
It hovered back and forth, clacking loudly with each movement. Each movement sent the droid about a half-metre in a random direction. If he had been able to see the droid, Caloc could have easily predicted each attack. But he wasn't able to see. A thick blast-shield covered his eyes, hiding the garish green paint that had been added to the droid's shell. Nor did he notice that as he continued to deflect the droid's attacks, the automatic doors slid open, and he stepped into the circular hallway that made up a majority of the Triumph's structure.
The droid launched another rapid volley as it followed the padawan into the corridor, and he deflected the three bolts away with his blade. Another clack as the droid moved again. The sound came from behind him and he spun, slashing the blade across to collide with the bolt. It bounced away, and he heard a loud shriek as it collided with the wall.
"Deesix, paused the training session.", he ordered his astromech. He waited a minute, then heard the training droid clatter loudly to the ground. Pulling the lip of his helmet up, he removed the blast visor from his eyes. A familiar figure stood two metres away, staring at a pock mark in the corridors wall. He grinned sheepishly at her, "Sorry about that."
"Why are you doing this in the hallway?", Tellerant asked, her voice shaking a little. "There are bigger rooms… like the commissary."
He glanced around him, seeing that he was indeed in the spacious corridor, it's walls filled with cargo crates secured to the walls by only nets and ropes. Caloc stared up one way and then down it, "Huh. Why am I in the hallway? Deesix, care to explain?"
The astromech peeked around the doorframe of the room and spun his dome, beeping an excuse.
"Do not blame the automatic doors!", Caloc knelt by the stubby droid and rapped against the metal of his dome. He looked up at the lieutenant. "As for the commissary, it seems to have been invaded by the ever so kind and thoughtful of Senator Torn."
Telle scrunched up her nose, furrowing her eyebrows together. "I offered to give him the captain's quarters. They are bigger than anyone else's and comes with a private study. Why has he taken over the commissary?"
The commissary was in the centre of the oval corridors that formed the centre of the cruiser. Caloc had gone there looking for jogan fruit before they jumped into hyperspace. Instead, he found the entire space overrun by Pantoran guards and the Senator's handmaidens. The doors were guarded by the three Senate Commandos, their blaster's held at the ready despite them having no one to attack. Trav-iss Torn had clearly made himself at home. The entire commissary was crowded with bags, politicol holograms and even an ancient filing cabinet stuffed full of papers.
"Something about a wardrobe.", he gestured towards the nearest entrance to the central room, currently locked.
How the illustrious Senator had smuggled his entire garish wardrobe onto the Restored Triumph, no one knew. How he had managed to smuggle a filing cabinet on board was even more mysterious. By the mess the commissary was in, it would have seemed that the Senator had lived in the ship for half his life.
"Have you seen the Senator's First Aide? Her name is Agatha.", Telle asked, "I need a copy of the Senator's schedule for when he is on Coruscant."
Caloc stared at her for a moment. "Yeah. She is in the commissary with the Senator. They have been given express orders not to be interrupted. I know that, because I am still hungry and jogan-less."
"Did you interrupt them?", her eyebrow quirked in amusement. Clearly the Senator's pompous behaviour had also irked her.
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I was only going in for another jogan. I brought some on board and then found the Senator stuffing his face with them. It's not like he couldn't get his own before he left."
Telle laughed at that. Her usually ridged face cracked into a grin that bore a melodic giggle with it. As she tried to smother her laughter, the spines on her forehead elongated to about five centimetres. He smiled at her. Chan Tellerant Lawell was one of his best friends. Stass had once stated that friendships were forged in fire. Caloc definitely believed that. His friendship with Telle had been forged during the battle of Malastare Narrows.
They had a lot in common too. Like him, she was struggling to be respected by the heads of the organisation she served. Granted, she was trying to be promoted to a higher position in the Republic Defence Alliance, while he was trying to stop being babied by the higher-ranking Jedi Knights who were worried about his recent injuries, but still.
He stared at her, noticing the dark rings around the lower half of her eyes and the redness of her irises. Even though she still portrayed the confidence she always did, there was clearly something nagging at her. Was it the burden of leadership? Was it the idea that she had finally earned that respect? Was it simple the responsibility of this task? She noticed him staring and stared back in question, though a small smile relentlessly tugged the corners of her mouth upwards.
He nodded towards her face, "You look tired. Did you sleep at all last night?"
The Calacran rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to run a ship here, Caloc. We arrive in the Shili System in under two hours. With the path that we need to take and this ancient relic of a ship, we will be lucky if we arrive on Coruscant before we die of old age! I can't exactly have eight hours of sleep when I'm trying to run this dump."
"No, but you should.", the padawan replied easily, not bothering to feel offended by her words.
"I can't.", she insisted, her voice still soft and melodic, as though she were attempting to explain something to someone half his age.
He rolled his eyes. She was also sounding like a little kid, in her own way, "Is Antilles at the controls?"
She nodded.
He bent down to stare into her golden eyes, "Can he handle this ship without you for a moment?"
"I suppose.", she mumbled in response.
A grin stretched across his lips and he snatched her hand, dragging her down the hallway behind him. "Great, now come with me. It has been so long since I was able to properly train and you are going to help me."
"What?", she tried to tug her hand away, "But I need the Senator's schedule."
"They won't let you in at the moment. Trust me. I couldn't even get one of my own food from there. Deesix will go and try to get the schedule for you.", Caloc called over his shoulder, then continued pulling her down the curve of the corridor, "Now come on, before I use the Force to make you fight me."
"Fight you?", Telle asked, ripping her hand from his grip. He spun, finding her staring at him with horrified eyes, "Why would I fight you?"
Caloc gestured to the green practice droid at their feet, "What, you expect me keep training with that thing after he nearly shot you? Clearly he is defective."
"You nearly shot me.", Telle held up a correcting finger, but finally relented and let herself be dragged towards the padawan's quarters.
The Calacran people were almost as mysterious as the Mandalorians. Everyone knew their species, but it was mostly in legends as assassins and warriors. No one really understood how rooted in tradition the Calacran culture. Millenia ago, they had divided into clans, each taking charge of one large area of the planet. Quite a few of the clans were at war with one another. Or they had been, until the Republic had arrived and put a stop to the infighting and invited them into the Senate. That had been an insult in the Calacra government's eyes.
On the bright side, the indecency of the Republic 'invaders' had united the population. Unfortunately, their unition had led to three long years of relentless, bloody war, led by Admiral Torsan Yularen, and then after his assassination by Calacran extremists, his son Wullf Yularen.
During those years, the formerly tranquil northern pole of their world had been converted into a quagmire, while the Northern hemisphere took on more acrid cloud layers. Once the Republic had been forced to evacuate though, the Elders had come together and agreed that they would need a representative in the Senate to speak for them as an unaligned system. That war had united the clans for good.
But they still had traditions.
The Calacran's still followed their beliefs, dividing into their clans when they came of age. The young would be raised in the caves of each region, kept out of the light to discourage the neighbouring clans from raiding and kidnapping them. Several clans had been wiped out by such attacks before the Unition.
Each clan had a different weapon of choice. They would still learn as many weapons as they could in attempt to try and combat every opponent they came across. But they were each trained to wield a specific weapon with dexterity and skill above all others. When a Calacran survived nine moon cycles, or about eleven years by galactic time, the youth would gather at an ancient monolith. There, they would choose which clan they went to. It was a clean decision, allowing the child to choose to stay with their parents and clan, or to move on to another. Every clan understood that the choice was final, and the decision was respected.
Chan had never had the chance. No, Chan Lawell had been a victim of the war, abandoned during the battle by her father at only seven years of age. She had wandered for days, hiding from other Calacrans, hoping that one might be a fellow clan member but never being brave enough to confront them and ask. Instead, she had wandered into the Republic camp, fully expecting herself to be shot. Instead, she inexplicably found herself being adopted into their clan – becoming an outcast to her planet.
Chan had never had the opportunity to choose her weapon. So she learnt them all. Her adopted father owned a complex on the forest moon of Necluff. The residence was a large property that had access to nearly everything she required to train. A pool to learn swimming, a rock garden for her martial arts, a library full of military and historical knowledge, and a dojo that contained all the weapons of her people. Before she had been accepted into the Naval Academy, she had spent another seven years there, training.
So when she saw the array of weapons that the Triumph's smallweapons cabinet held, she frowned at Caloc, "You want me to use that?"
Caloc spun the cabinet's single bo-staff around his back, flicking the hardened head at her. Instinct made her adrenaline spike, and her spines extended their full twenty centimetres in response. She held her forearms parallel, crossing the spines to block and catch the staff between them. Then she forced her forearms up and to the side, wrenching the thick wood from his hands. It slapped into her palm, and she easily flipped the weapon around her forearm, grasping it horizontally across her body in a single fluid motion to test the balance. It was… surprisingly well-balanced.
Caloc grinned at her familiarity with the weapon. Two shorter wooden batons, most likely used to imitate stun-pikes, flew from the cabinet and smacked into the padawan's hands. He gave her a grin as he adjusted to the weight. "Shall we?"
They were standing in the centre of the oblong hallway's intercect point, where it branched off towards the maintenance hallways and the crew showers. A small audience of astromech droids and a rather enthusiastic Senate Guard gathered around them, forming a loose circle that would be the limits of their duel. Realistically, she knew, they would also be there to stop anyone from wandering into the duel and becoming a casualty.
Caloc nodded at the guardsman. "You alright to referee, Talos?"
Talos grinned, nodding enthusiastically, "It's an honour to be asked. Truly."
He was young and eager, Telle noticed. A good soldier but one who hadn't been tested fully yet. Probably capable but without the years of experience to guide him. Still, a Senate Guard was a Senate Guard. They were the best of the best.
She focussed on her opponent. "Why are you insisting that we do this? I told you how busy I am."
"We can always stop.", he replied, standing straight and lowering his weapons. "You allowed me to drag you down here. But I will admit that I am looking forward to this. Be nice to see you do something other than stab me through the chest."
She winced, remembering the hole she had forced through him in the aftermath of Malastare Narrows. "That saved your life!"
He brushed aside the fact with a shrug and raised the batons again. "You could at least show me how good a fighter you are. Now attack me, please."
Stamping forward, she jabbed the staff in a short, sharp strike at the padawan's head. The heavy hardwood was flicked aside easily by the two batons. The short sticks continued their motion, figure-eighting to tangle into her legs as Caloc stepped forward. He pulled the sticks back quickly, flipping her over so she slammed shoulder-first into the floor. She rolled back to her feet, staring at him with venom.
"Sloppy.", he rested the batons on his right shoulder, marching around her like a nexu stalking its prey, "I can't believe that this is all I get from you, daughter of the moon. I want you to ATTACK!"
The shout – and the refence to her past – galvanised her, and she spun the staff around her head, slamming it left and right into his defence. But said defence seemed impenetrable. He moved with nearly impossible speed, the two batons not stopping any of the attacks, but instead simply sending each a centimetre or so to the side so it missed where she had been aiming. Instead of the resounding crack, a series of creaking scrapes filled the halls as the wood rubbed together.
Caloc's eyes flittered about as he watched her carefully, and when she executed an overhead swing to try and get more power behind her attack, he crossed his weapons in an X-shape, catching the staff. Just before it jarred to a halt, he slid his feet forward and slipped between her legs. Fully expecting the staff to halt in the crossed weapons, she didn't realise until too late that her enemy was behind her. She belatedly tried to step away from him, but his legs had already wrapped around her waist. The padawan threw his weight to the side and released his leg's grip. The momentum threw her off-balance, and she slid across the floor again, coming to rest at the magnetised leg of a C-series droid.
"You need to stop thinking by the book, Telle.", he was somehow already back on his feet, "Get creative. Think differently. Vary your methods. Relax. You seem more wound up than a Lothcat in high grass."
She let out a grunt, but forced herself to calm down. Control was key to this fight. It was time to fight like a Calacran, not like some sloppy Lutrillian with an unbalanced blade. Leaping up, she flicked the staff around her opponent's legs. He stumbled slightly at the speed of her assault, but managed to turn it into a tumble to the side. He easily rolled back upright, balancing again on the balls of his feet. Damned Jedi reflexes.
Caloc watched her carefully for a moment as she circled. He threw one of the batons away to the left, while simultaneously swinging the other at her. She blocked attack, but a loud clunk from behind her caught her attention. Spinning, she found herself looking into the blunt end of the first baton, which had rebounded off the wall behind her. The heavy wood slammed straight into her chin. Pain exploded across her jaw, and she fell back to the floor, slightly dazed. One thing that did register in her mind was that the attack had been a cheap move, a cheat.
She collapsed to the floor, the staff rolling from her grip. She felt the thick end of the other baton pressing into the back of her head.
"If you were really focussed, really relaxed and ready for this task, Telle", she heard Caloc whisper into her ear, "You would have easily beat me by now."
Her anger bubbled over, and her spines extended to their full length – the three that poked out of each arm about twenty centimetres, while the one down her back about forty. She blocked his next strike with her left arm, her teeth bared back in a snarl. Her incisors gleamed in the light, and she snarled out a guttural hiss as she leapt forward.
She had practiced her people's techniques, and found that many of them needed to be motivated by anger or rage for the spines to be effective. Kicking the bo-staff from the floor to her hand, she launched a high swipe into his right side. He blocked, spinning the single baton around and using his forearm to support it against her attack. Pulling the other baton back into his hand with the Force, he flipped it in another side jab, swinging it into the back of Telle's leg. She fell down, kneeling on the ground again.
"You are letting your anger get the better of you.", the padawan pulled out his lightsabre and ignited it, the sapphire blade resting inches from her throat, "That makes it easy to use it against you."
She froze before the glowing plasma, eyes locked on it. That weapon could easily slice her head off. If they had been fight for real, she would already have fallen. The threat and the meaning behind it was obvious.
He pulled the blade back, extinguishing it and clipping the hilt to his belt. She got to her feet and shoved him backwards. "One more time."
"Very well.", he frowned, unclipping the lightsabre again and throwing it to Talos. Clearly, he felt that he would struggle to not use it again. He dropped the batons and grabbed a battered piece of metal that could have once been a shield from his satchel. "Let's try this. The first person to land a hit, wins."
"My favourite game", she grimly chuckled, her grin widening. It was her favourite game. First Hit had been played a lot at the Naval Academy.
The two circled each other: his shield held out across his chest, her spines ready and waiting for him. She slashed forward, the razor edges of the spines snaking faster than her body. But they didn't make contact. He dodged the attack, stepping back and dropping his arms so her spines passed harmlessly by. She growled again, launching another attack. And another. And another. Each time Caloc took a step back, moving further and further down the hallway, and closer to the line of droids. Soon, Telle was drenched in sweat, and she hadn't landed a single blow. But she remained focussed.
Caloc suddenly switched tactics, kicking out with his leg towards her gut. If it wasn't for her reflexes, Telle would've been hit. She bent back, throwing out a hand to stop herself collapsing on the floor. The leg passed just above her head, and she hesitantly reached her free hand up. The resounding slap echoed around the hall as she hit his boot. Then there was nothing by silence.
Telle straightened up as Caloc made a sound similar to a deflating innertube. Raucous laughter exploded from the padawan's mouth, and he fell to the floor, laying on the slick metal as he shook violently with amusement. She stared at him while she massaged her delicate flesh of her now red palm.
"Nice work.", he choked out through the laughs, "You used my overconfidence to your advantage, just like I used your anger against you. Well done."
"Are you okay?", she asked. A wave of exhaustion swept over her, and she placed a hand to her head.
The laughter stopped immediately, and she felt Caloc's hand lay gently on her shoulder. "Go and rest, Telle. I can look after the ship while you do. And with all due respect, you look like you need it."
She went to argue, but another wave of exhaustion swept over her again. Damn, he was good at breaking down her resolve and finding ways that she could not say no. That training session had broken through the thin sliver of resolve she had that kept her focussed on her work. She gritted her teeth, forcing out a reluctant, "Fine. But I want this ship in tip top shape when I wake up."
"Good.", he clicked his fingers at one of the droids. "Tee-five-are, make sure she gets there, would you?"
"Understood, temporary captain.", the protocol droid stepped forward, it's conical head spinning with amusement, "I will ensure the true captain is safe."
Talos walked over as Telle walked down the hall towards her quarters. He nudged Caloc's shoulder, adding a bit of effort to make the padawan tumble forward. "Can I have a go?"
"At duelling me?", Caloc studied the young, and clearly eager commando, before shrugging, "Sure."
"How do you know that this would get the lieutenant to rest?", Talos asked.
Caloc didn't answer for a moment, bending to pick up the bo-staff instead. He would be using it this time. "I went to see her last night when we got back from Dunlain. She didn't even notice me for twenty minutes, just kept pouring over star charts and reports. She had to be exhausted, and if there is one thing that Stass has taught me, it is that an emotionally draining duel can be exactly what someone needs to finally begin taking care of themselves."
He thought back to the first duel they had after his removal from the bacta tank. He had been forced to see several weaknesses he still obtained after such a long time underneath.
Talos nodded, grabbing one of the short, carved swords from the cabinet. "I will never again question the deviousness of a Jedi, then. If you would excuse me, I need to go and look after the men."
Riyo peeked around the corner of the corridor, careful to stay out of sight as the two men began their duel. Her hood was pulled tightly over her head, hiding her blue skin in the shadows. A strand of purple hair fell across her eyes and she brushed it aside, tucking it behind her left ear.
"So, what are you looking at so intently?", Miriam appeared over her shoulder, and Riyo had to stifle a scream with the soft part of her palm. The older Pantoran followed her gaze and shook her head slowly before she fixed Riyo with a disapproving look, "You know that Jedi can't date, right?"
Riyo softly jabbed her unofficial sister in the ribs with her elbow, "Don't you dare even go down that road, Miriam. I simply wanted to thank him for what happened on the landing pad."
"Sure.", Miriam replied. "He is still a Jedi, Riyo. He was just doing his job."
She shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable in by the statement. "He seems to be the only one my age on this ship. I simply want to say hello."
"Should I be offended, girl?", Miriam pulled back the hood, "I am one of your only friends in the aides, and you want to find someone else to hang with?"
Riyo spun to stare at her, "Did you come here just to tease me?"
Miriam mimicked the younger girls eyeroll. "Trav-iss wants us. He is going to go over the speech. But don't worry, go and talk to the kid. His high and mighty senatorship probably won't even notice if he's missing a single servant."
She had drawn out the word 'servant'. Miriam had very interesting views on the difference between what a handmaiden was supposed to do, and what they ended up doing for Trav-iss. Mumbling out a quick thank you, Riyo turned to walk away, but her vision was impeded by some thick fabric and leather.
"Take that.", she heard after her, "It compliments your hair."
She turned and made a shooing motion with her hands, only to find she was giving it to an empty hall. Looking down, she found herself staring at the jacket that Miriam often wore when they were allowed outside the Senate district. A very stylish leather, dyed a deep maroon. She stared at it for a minute, then quickly shrugged it on.