Feb 26th
It was past two am when they left the Dallon home and started walking, their thoughts stuck, twisting and turning in their mind, trapped in a labyrinthian knot of unsettled emotion and turmoil.
The Sith. It always came down to the Sith. Well, there were no Sith here to whisper poison in a scared man's ears. There were no Sith to orchestrate grand wars and genocides. No Sith to corrupt the Republic into the Empire amidst cheers and admiration, a sight that burned in Ripplescale's mind. No Sith to turn the greatest Jedi Knight on the battlefield into a mechanical monstrosity and little better than an executioner of Jedi. There were no Sith at all, only humans ever being human, squabbling over a single planet as the end ticked ever closer. An end they all knew was coming. They gave a bitter, mocking laugh at it all. The galaxies 'dominant species' couldn't even get off its own kriffing planet, stuck by alien megafauna they simply had no technology that could deal with.
Well, that should change soon enough. A simple hyperdrive on a stick pointed and aimed correctly should kill an Endbringer. It would also happen to destroy everything around the Endbringer, so there were definitely situational uses for such technology. But simple gravionics and Surface-To-Space Planes should be enough to escape the prison of Earth Bet's gravity well. Enough to establish bases on the Moon and Earth-Moon libration points. From there, simple hyperdrives will turn the Solar system into Earth's backyard, and nearby stars possibilities. The Simurgh was dead, and the Solar System free. It would be the beginnings of a Golden Age, after the decades-long Parahuman Nightmare.
Then their thoughts traveled back to what they had seen. And what they hadn't needed to see.
The Younglings.
They dry heaved at the thought, at the blood spilt for absolutely nothing, their dinner having long been thrown up when they first realized what was going to happen. An embarrassing and humiliating experience that paused the movie while the Dallon's cleaned up and Ripplescale emptied their stomach into the closest toilet, their agitated tail whipping knocking over personal grooming supplies. They were sure they had burned any goodwill with Mark they gained from boiling away the depressive fog that hung around the man, as he had mopped up their sick, giving them a look of frustration and confusion. It had made their skin burn with shame thinking about it still. They'd always had a weak stomach, even as a clutchling, they just hadn't thought they would need to worry about it and eaten their fill of the underseasoned meat. Foolish. They should have expected something like the massacre.
Oh, Ripplescale knew why the massacre of the Younglings happened. Understood the horrid, awful logic of it all. If Anakin could do that sickening act, he could do anything, anything the Sith desired. He had been free, and he went right back to a Master, became a slave and all for nothing. He had killed his own wife, for the Light's sake. It was all so pointless and tragic, and most of all; it was preventable. No, Anakin was not the only one who failed. Yoda failed Anakin. Obi-Wan failed Anakin. The Order failed Anakin. And when push came to shove, he fell and fell harder and faster than any other, always the one for grand statements. A harsh bark of laughter tore itself from their lips once more, startling a nightbird into flight over the empty street. It was all they could do. If they didn't laugh, they would mourn. If they mourned, they would shiver and wail a high keening sound, between low barking coughs, a noise that unsettles many a sentient, especially humans.
How many of Ripplescale's future students will fall, they wondered, flashes of yellow eyes haunting them as they walked through the night. How many will they have to kill? Instinct, or the Force, tells them it'll be more than one. Their heart feels heavy already, full and near leaking. Is this truly what they have to expect? For a moment, everything is silent and they listen. Its early or late enough that some birds have started chirping.
And then, oh then, there was the 'New Hope'. After being neglected for nineteen years, Anakin's son was presented with a lightsaber and given the directive to terminate his own father, Darth Vader. What were Master Kenobi and Grandmaster Yoda thinking? Had things truly gotten so desperate that they forced patricide on the shoulders of their last padawan, an untrained farmboy? Perhaps so. Perhaps if Ripplescale had survived Captain Jax and fled to the Outer Rim, they would have turned as gnarled and bitter and twisted as those two old men, and sent off young men to their death with the same ease.
Perhaps that's what too much sorrow does, twists and gnarls you until you don't recognize yourself anymore. Ripplescale could barely comprehend surviving the death of the Jedi Order. They cannot imagine what it was like for the Grandmaster, to lose everything, and live, when so many died. Perhaps that explains his choices. Certainly explains Master Kenobi's abject failure to do anything to connect or teach the boy, until far too late.
Unlike in the Prequels, the absence of non-humanoid aliens in the Original Trilogy had a distinct and unresolved quality that couldn't be easily dismissed as humans lacking the proper talent or imagination. There was something the Force hinted at, yet shied away from explicating. Something terrible happened in those nineteen years. Ripplescale's awareness of the profoundly unsettling and enigmatic event was limited to subtle suggestions conveyed through the Force. Flashes of images of high walls and camps, and a strange black angular shape like a cross where each arm bent, forming a clockwise pinwheel on a circle of white and a rectangle of red. They would have to ask what such a symbol meant, but they were certain it meant nothing good.
As their stomach twisted at distant implications, they found themself in front of a park, empty this late. The park was lonely and cold in the faded yellow lights of streetlamps, yet a place of life inside a grey, decrepit city, a green space to get their head back on straight, to settle their aching, weary heart. It was something they desperately needed.
For an hour Knight Ripplescale simply lay on the grass staring up at the unfamiliar stars, and slowly went through their emotions, acknowledging them and releasing them into the Force. They were right to feel everything they felt. Justified in their despair and anger and fear, their disgust and confusion and soul-deep weariness, and most of all, their sense of betrayal.
Death had been a constant companion these past years, but that didn't mean seeing Ki-Adi-Mundi, Mace Windu, Shaak Ti and so many others perish didn't affect them, even if they were being played by humans in bad costumes. The Force had sung with the truth of the matter. Order 66 was very real, Ripplescale had experienced it firsthand.
But wallowing in such feelings wouldn't help Ripplescale or anyone else on Earth Bet. They had to be understood and released. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly enough. They wanted to hit something or scream, still. Wanted to shake Grandmaster Yoda and throttle Master Kenobi.
So they stood and ran through the Form I katas, slowly, glacially, feeling every movement of Shii-Cho in their newly healed limbs and taking tens of minutes. Then again, faster this time, moving through at a regular pace. Then again, lightning quick, feeling the Force flowing through them as they wove their body through the sinuous motions. Then they did the same with Form II, Makashi. By the time they reached Form V, Djem So, the sun had been up for an hour and a crowd had gathered on the edges of the park, filming them. Ripplescale did not mind. Let the public enjoy the spectacle. They had a lot to work out. If they imagined it the elder Skywalker against their imaginary blade sometimes and themself winning, it was an indulgence they let themselves experience.
Of course, eventually the PRT showed up. Battery came out of the van alone and walked over.
"So you didn't come back last night, after leaving the Dallons. Made a few people worried," she said carefully.
Ripplescale bristled a little at the implication they had done something wrong, feathers fanning their face. "I believe I have the right to spend my days and nights how I please," they said stiffly, "but I appreciate the worry. I am not without defenses, however."
"What are you doing, if you don't mind me asking?" she questioned in a curious tone.
"I am working out my feelings and then releasing them. I find moving meditation quite helpful with anger and frustration."
"Do you mind if I watch? These people aren't bothering you, are they?"
"No, of course not. Let them watch and film to their heart's content."
Observing from a nearby bench, Battery witnessed the completion of Form VII. Ripplescale had knowledge and experience in both Juyo and Vaapad, but they considered the idea of consistently utilizing either form, particularly without the guidance and monitoring of other Jedi, to be unwise. Therefore, they opted for the only somewhat safer alternative of Vaapad and ultimately returned to practicing Shii-Cho. When they finished with the Form I set, they stopped, and knelt on the grass, facing the sun and meditated once more on the Jedi Code, finding themselves lingering on the Initiate's Mantra, the former Jedi Code.
A code from a bygone era, when the world was less complicated. A code Parahumans could reasonably adhere to. A code lonely Jedi could follow with any amount of reasonability. They nodded, accepting the choice easily. There was a time for tradition and a time for change. This was a time for change.
Battery knelt in the grass next to them, brimming with curiosity, excitement, doubt. "Legend told me," she said quietly. "I don't mean to interrupt, but would you mind teaching me what you're doing? How you are meditating? I… You said before, you would choose me. I want to know why."
They opened their third eye and rolled their head over their flank to gaze at her. "It is good to ask questions. Do you believe Legend?"
"Well, yes. The circumstance in which he spoke to me almost guaranteed it must be the truth. He says you know about them. About Cauldron." The last is whispered dead quiet.
"I am aware of their activities." It was said a tad bit colder than they intended.
Her heart beat faster. "You don't approve?"
They let out a whistling sigh. "There are reasons why I must tolerate them. But if you knew only some of what they've done… But that matters not, today. So you believe. I presume Cauldron asked you to spy on me."
She nodded. "And so did the PRT."
They let out a sibilant giggle at that. "Ah well, I suppose you are fit for the task, then."
"What, uh did that noise mean, Knight Ripplescale? If you don't mind me asking."
"Please do, I will not be offended. I am a nonhuman on a human-dominant world. I shouldn't expect you to be able to read my body language. That was a giggle, for humans."
"Oh! You think its funny. That's good. That's good. What task?"
Ripplescale smiled closed-lipped at her. "I'm working on updating what it means to be a Jedi in this world, and I wanted to run by a potential Jedi Code you would be following."
"Oh, a, a new code? That you expect me to follow?" Battery asked, sounding surprised.
"Yes," they nodded. "If you are going to be a Force User, you will follow the Code. The Dark Side is very real and very dangerous. Any and all defenses against its insidious nature will be required of you."
"Of course, I'm still just trying to wrap my head around all this being real, and needing to be considered. But go ahead, let me hear the Code," Battery said, curious yet uncertain.
"Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force."
To her credit she considered it for over a minute before speaking. They would have liked a little longer thinking, but this was not the Temple. These people had lives to live, and things to do outside of philosophy. Unfortunately, it was practical philosophy that would save the lives of new Force users.
"I don't think I quite understand it, but I don't see anything wrong with it, necessarily. But how can one be ignorant, yet knowledgeable?" Battery asked, confused.
"You can be ignorant of the dangers that lay around you, yet knowledgeable that the Force will guide your step. The Force is in all things, and the Force is all things. With the Force to guide you, all things are possible. And so, even in our ignorance, we have the knowledge of the Force."
"I think I need to have the Force to actually get it," admitted Battery. "That doesn't seem possible."
"With the Force, the impossible is possible. But you must experience to believe, and believe to experience. That will come later. You foresee no insurmountable difficulties adhering those maxims?"
"I… No, I like to think I keep a cool head, even in battle. Have to. Having to stand still to get your power to work, just watching others go in, makes you have to consider and think. The part about death, that's… both harder and easier. To know there's something genuinely good after all this, is freeing. But I think, I don't know how I'd handle certain people's deaths, even knowing."
"Death is always hard. Never easy. Not even three endless years of them made them any easier. Life will be different for you, having the Force. It is not a power you can turn off. You can adjust your focus, your attention, but its always there. You'll read people's emotions and mental states, maybe even their nature, just by passing by them. You'll feel the city when it mourns and when it fears and when it celebrates, as if it were a great lumbering beast or a storm system. You'll feel the grass growing and the birds in flight, the intricate wonders of nature, the interconnectedness of us all and this planet, and the stars beyond. It is a heavy burden and a wondrous miracle, the Force."
"That sounds… Legend made it seem like a dream. But I suppose you get the good with the bad. I can't imagine how New York City must feel. Makes me worried, about how Brockton Bay feels."
"We shall have to make sure we awaken you in a green space, far from people. Cities can be overwhelming," Ripplescale noted.
"You still haven't said why you chose me," Battery asked carefully.
"You have a heroic disposition and a calm, rational demeanor. You are familiar with learning how to use powers. Instinct."
"Instinct," she repeated, disbelieving.
"Trusting your instinct is very important. It is one of the method's the Force uses to deliver intuition. Yet you must not rely on them solely. Of course, that for much later. For now, though, simply consider the Code, while I finish my meditation. I shall not be much longer."
"Take your time," Battery protested. "If I'm needed, they'll let me know."
They finished after a half hour, feeling much more settled. "Thank you for your patience. I'm ready to leave now." The crowd had ebbed, but some still lingered, watching, as the two left the park together.
Ripplescale could fit inside the van with Battery, though probably not many more could without things becoming cramped, given their size.
"How was the Dallon's?" Battery asked into the silence.
"The Dallon's themselves were a delight. The evening was wearing and long, though. We watched Star Wars. The Prequels and the Original Trilogy."
Battery's eyes widened. "Oh. That must have been… difficult and strange."
"Your depictions of aliens are far too human-centric, and your lightsaber combat is silly. But to know it was all a Sith trap from the very beginning… That the entire Order fell because of the actions of a Sith given the levers of power…" They shook their head and ruffled their feathers mournfully. "We were blind. Buffoons stumbling in a dark room, never sensing the assailant coming closer. We were fools. Worst of all, we were arrogant. We had thought our enemies long dead, and we forgot and it cost us everything."
Battery's mouth moved a couple times, before she settled on, "I'm sorry. I truly am. But there's more than just the movies. There are books. They call it the Extended Universe. There's a whole new Jedi Order, lead by Luke Skywalker, the son of Anakin. The Jedi Order lives on."
"There is some comfort in knowing that. Less that I'd like. That doesn't change the Younglings."
Thinking about it made their heart ache fiercely, made their stomach seize and their throat burn. They had been glad for the comforting presence of Amy laying against their bulk in that moment, even as they had thrown up all over the Dallon's wooden floor from the stress of understanding the sheer horror of what Anakin had done. It didn't matter that the vid's scene had been quiet and bloodless. They had been sick because they knew it was true. They had needed and still needed the touch of another being or to hit something, or both, but they kept themselves calm, focusing on the moment and releasing their frustration.
Battery winced, her face paling as a rush of understanding washed over her like icy water. "I understand completely now why you needed to work out anger." The van rattled over a bump, before smoothing out.
"I will need to work on it regularly. Is there a green space near the PRT building I can use?"
"My husband would probably make a joke about Tai Chi right about now," she said with some fondness, "but yes, Cavalier Park is two blocks west, and open 24/7."
"Good, I was thinking about making a regular ritual of greeting the morning sun. Work out my anger and frustration through katas. Keep myself regulated and maintain my combat effectiveness, while preparing for teaching my own… Initiates," they said, deciding that certain words had become taboo.
"I'm sure that will be perfectly fine, but PR would love to film you if you let them know. I know you're not a member of the Protectorate, but I don't think it would matter. Might be interesting to do sometime. They'd probably want to interview you though."
Interviews… They'd probably have to explain their nature as a Jedi in Cape terms again, like they had at the Dallons, not wanting to turn dinner into a spectacle. "I am familiar with interviews. I do not mind giving one. I have been working on a backstory that is true but palatable for Earth Bet, before I am ready to reveal to all and sundry I am truly a Jedi."
"Oh, let me hear it," Battery asked excitedly.
"I am not a simple Case 53. I remember my life before I arrived on Earth Bet. I was a member of an order of militant Parahuman monks who followed the Light of the Path. We believe that there is an energy field that bind all life together, from the smallest bacterium to the grandest animal, and all people as well and empowers one's power. This energy field, this Path of Life has two directions; to bend to the Light, or fall to the Dark. I was wounded in a war against an order of Darkness, before suddenly appearing in the skies above Canberra."
"Militant Parahuman monks, huh?" Battery mused.
"Carol Dallon seemed to find the remixing of the Hero/Villain dynamic into spiritual warfare par for the course for another Earth. Of course I never told her I was from Earth, she simply assumed. And I told her Legend joined my new Order I'm establishing. She didn't believe it, of course."
Battery snorted. "Of course she didn't believe it. It sounds ridiculous despite being true. We'll have to get proper names down for your backstory, some more details, maybe a couple stories from your life remade into Earth-Ripple."
"I'd rather not lie, so maybe no stories. Or only war stories, sanitized." The face of Captain Jax, cold as he discharged his weapon into Ripplescale's chest. Order 66. So many dead in three years. The light of the galaxy going out, never to return. A lonely Luke Skywalker, the last of the Jedi; a half-trained weapon meant to kill his father, not restore the Jedi. They pushed the images from their mind and let out a whistling sigh, rustling their feathers. "Or maybe not that, even. I'm fine with being secretive."
"It's not like they can do anything more than ask. You are entirely in your rights to not answer."
"Do you know of symbols? The Force gave me one. If I described one to you, would you recognize it?" they asked Battery.
"Maybe," she hedged.
They described the symbol, and the high walled camps, with barracks and smokestacks. Battery took a moment to place what they are talking about, but slowly explained an event called the Holocaust. A little over 70 years ago, a government began the mass killing of an entire ethnic group of humans, called Jews, after a long period of persecution. They made work camps, concentration camps, for them, working them to death. When that wasn't fast enough, they gassed them and burn them in ovens. They killed two-thirds of the local population before they were stopped.
With this revelation, Ripplescale comprehended the full extent of exactly what had transpired across numerous worlds in the former Galactic Republic, the Empire, affecting not just one, but possibly hundreds of sentient species known to the Galaxy. They had thought they were done, that they were finished with the heartbreaking knowledge that made them want to do anything but understand and accept.
"Why... why do you ask?" Battery questioned, finally, after she finished her macabre tale.
They took a deep shuddering breath, unable to stop a low keen. "I... I was curious, I suppose." A pause. "The Force showed me that symbol when I questioned why there were no aliens that didn't follow the human body plan in A New Hope."
Battery takes a moment to realize what that means, but she gets it quickly enough. "You think... you think the Empire killed them all?"
"I don't think, I know. The Force showed me that symbol and those camps for a reason. The Empire is committing genocide. And instead of being somewhere I can help, I'm here. On Earth Bet." Disdain leaked into their voice, and they had to throttle it.
Battery still caught it. The rest of the ride was quiet, as they chased their tail in their mind, imagining the shining urban jungles of Sauryx empty, or worse, filled with just humans. It was an image they couldn't get out of their mind. They needed something to do, something to distract them.
The van gradually decelerated, coming to a gentle halt. They stepped out into the cramped confines of the smaller garage on the Rig, the Protectorate Headquarters. The converted oil rig now stood as a formidable fortress, adorned with a shield generator emitting a faint hum and strategically placed missile emplacements.
"Your workshop is fully ready now, so Armsmaster wanted to walk you through," Battery told them. Armsmaster met them halfway there, and took over, greeting Ripplescale with enthusiasm, and not a little Tinker worship. Apparently his own recreations of the power pack were turning out to not be Tinkertech, at least as far as the strictures of the PRT went. That meant the power packs didn't need to be turned over for examination and approval, they could be used in the field at any time. Armsmaster was ecstatic. They tried to match their energy and just couldn't.
They recognized all the tools, as versions flitted through their brain, ancient versions to Ripplescale yet far more advanced than these. And it would be easy to make them as well, while Armsmaster had spent so much making sure they got the best tools. "Armsmaster, would you be offended if I used these tools by taking them apart to make new tools?"
He laughed heartily and clapped their flank. "That's the point, Ripplescale. You truly are a Tinker. That's why I got you the best ones. Should give you a step up, maybe even skip a few steps. Any questions? Any additions you need?"
"Thank you, Armsmaster. This is truly a gift and I appreciate you doing it on such short notice. Crystals actually. All kinds and geodes, natural if possible. I need samples of metals and different gasses. I have the ability to convert common materials into tinker materials," they said as they began to tear down the first tool in front of them, eager to escape thoughts of the Empire and Anakin.
"Crystals, geodes, metals and gasses. The Protectorate would be glad to provide. Anything else?"
"Be sure to send my blueprints to your Dragon. I believe she can get much from them."
"Already have. She's fascinated by your power pack. Claims it could scale enough to power her mecha, so you already have a fan," Armsmaster said with a soft grin.
"Good, I am aware of the good work she does." And will need to make a trip to Newfoundland to deal with some horrible people, before they decide to pull the trigger.
"I'll be sure to tell her."
Armsmaster left them to get to work.
They meticulously worked on the tools, carefully transforming them into their Corsuca equivalent. The clanging of metal against metal reverberated through the workshop as they skillfully crafted each blueprint. Hours slipped away as they focused intently on the task at hand. Their dedication to detail was evident in every stroke of the hammer and every twist of the wrench. With precision and expertise, they shaped the tools, ensuring that each one mirrored its Corsuca counterpart flawlessly.
The rhythmic symphony of clanging metal filled the workshop, resonating with a sense of purpose and determination. Time seemed to lose its grip as they immersed themselves wholeheartedly in the art of crafting. Each blueprint was meticulously followed, bringing the envisioned design to life. Hours slipped away, unnoticed, as their concentration remained unyielding. They were consumed by the task at hand, their focus unwavering. Every tool was honed to perfection, every detail meticulously attended to. Finally, as the last stroke was made, they stepped back to admire their work. The tools were now in the style of the Ancient Corsuca Galaxay, their transformation complete. With a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, they knew that their efforts would bring them one step closer to ending the Endbringers and finding a solution for the Worm.
As they delved into the realm of lightsabers, a sense of disappointment washed over them. The name itself seemed inadequate when they observed its reliance on a modified power pack and cable, hindering its mobility and range. It lacked the essence of a true lightsaber, resembling more of a protosaber. Undeterred, they set their sights on crafting a sleek handle specifically designed for the effortless maneuvering required in Form I and Form II, Shii-Cho and Makashi. With their scaled and feathered hands coated in grease and sweat, they toiled throughout the night, constructing the casing and intricate focusing mechanisms. The air was infused with the tangy scent of metal and the crackling hint of ozone, as they diligently utilized the power pack they had already created. Immersed in their work, their thoughts were consumed, shielding them from any intrusive distractions.
Only in the moments before sleep did the weight of their contemplations seep in, haunting them like a relentless pack of feathered pyx-hounds. The Sith and their machinations, the Worm and its inevitable turn, the exhausted, rundown city they found themself in, and the dying world they were stuck on, the Empire and its plans, and what they could possibly do about it; these and more ran through their head. Finally, they found fitful rest, their body exhausted from a night of tireless labor.