Chapter 7

Coruscant

The two blue blades clashed together, then split apart in rapid secession, sending a flash of orange sparks through the air with each collision. Lozzan felt her grip on the lightsaber loosen slightly as the other blade pushed against hers, and tightened it to compensate. Before her stood her Master, tall and imposing as always, his own lightsaber held before him in a two handed grip. His blue, horned lekku swung with each step he took, and his cranial horns quivered menacingly. Every now and then she saw his forked tongue dash out and lick the moisture from his lips. This was one of the harder duels they had fought together, and yet it was all for show.

Standing on the side of the training ground, a dozen younglings were transfixed by the spectacle, their teacher on the end of the line. Lozzan wasn't sure how to feel about a performance in front of the younglings, but Tia Sil'o'can had insisted that they demonstrate their individual duelling styles. But it just didn't feel real. The difference between this act and a real duel was simple – Lozzan wouldn't know another opponent's technique. She wouldn't have trained with them for days on end to perfect the techniques, or been on mission where she could watch her Master first hand. This was all… untrue.

She blocked a high overhead strike, then countered by slipping her blade out before it could get locked in a crosscut. She kicked out with her right leg. Predictably, Tia dodged the attack. Over the past two years, he had learnt her own preferred style entirely. He knew that she preferred fighting with two hands, that she relied on surprising her opponent with kicks when they weren't expecting it… that she often used the Force to move her opponents aim slightly away from where they had been aiming. All which was now useless, because he was using his techniques to avoid falling for her traps.

She brought her weapon in front of her and managed to block another sudden strike, then another. At least the students seemed to be enjoying themselves. They were watching, enraptured by the spectacle. It was rare for them to see anyone but their teacher, she knew. So to see how a Master and a Padawan trained – to see their future, for most of them – was fascinating. And then the chime sounded to signal the end of the duel.

As one, she and her Master took a step back, held their lightsabers upright before them, and flicked the toggle to disengage the blade. Then they hung the hilts to their belts again, and turned to observe the younglings.

"Thank you, Master Sil'o'can, Padawan Karen.", said Elsa Trunat, the Crocin Tribe leader bowed to them, gesturing for the younglings to do the same. "Your techniques are something to be admired."

"It is always a pleasure to teach the newest generations of the Jedi, Master Trunat.", Tia smiled at the diminutive Jedi. "And it is the duty of all to pass on the knowledge you gain to those who are learning."

"Were there any questions for our demonstrator today?", Trunat asked her students.

And thus began the questions, most of them trivial or previously answered. Lozzan answered those directed at her and let her master answer the rest. After about thirty minutes, they waved goodbye to the younglings. She exited the training hall behind her Master, trying to keep her head low and avoid being spotted by any of the younglings who might recognise her.

"Are you alright?", Tia asked when they were safely in the hall. It was not the calming tones of a parent that she had heard other masters use with their padawans. It was the gruff surety of a teacher, mildly concerned with their student's performance. "You seemed distracted in there. Your mind was elsewhere."

Lozzan shook her head to clear it. "I guess I'm just missing a task, Master. We haven't gone anywhere since that debate on Mustafar. This is the third practice duel we've done for the youngling classes. I'm feeling like the Council has forgotten us."

Tia's booming laugh echoed through the halls. "The Council is too occupied with Pantora and the crisis there to worry about your boredom, Lozzan. I spoke with Master Fay yesterday, and she told me that they are still debriefing several of the survivors." His tone went darker, "And I hear that the preparation's for the burial ceremonies is taking a while too."

Lozzan felt suitably chastened, "I apologise for my impatience, Master. I guess I just feel like we should have joined the hunt for the terrorists that fled. Or joined the search for Stass and Caloc."

Tia's brows drew together as he considered that, and opened his mouth to reply, when a shout from down the hall caught their attention. Turning, Lozzan saw a young Envoneze running towards them, six arms thudding beside their green skinned torso. "Padawan Karen! Padawan Karen!"

Both Jedi turned to look at the boy, probably another youngling, though older than those they had just seen. Lozzan knelt to rest her hand on the small form's shoulder, studying his eager face. "What can I do for you…"

She paused, unsure of the youngling's identity. He quickly supplied it for her. "Groshan, ma'am. You have a call, padawan. From one of the ships in orbit. It's waiting for you in communications room five."

Lozzan looked at her Master, who stroked his blue chin and flicked out his tongue in consideration. Finally, he nodded, "You go ahead, Lozzan. I will be in the Library should you require me, trying to find you a… distraction."

Lozzan nodded her thanks, and hurried off down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned the corner, and she knew he would stay watching the hallway for some time after she was out of sight.

"Hello?", Lozzan asked the blank screen console. "Is anyone there?"

The youngling, Groshan, had left her at one of the three communications consoles in Room Five: a large, round table with an ancient, but reliable, holographic display terminal. The rest of the room was otherwise deserted, though it was clear people had been here recently. Tapping at the keys, Lozzan tried again.

"Hello?"

With a fizzle of static, the image appeared above the platform, particles coalescing into the image of a boy sitting on a medical examination table, cords and sensors taped across his body. His shaggy blond hair had been slicked back with moisture, and his padawan braid hung over his bare right shoulder. In the background of the shot, a tall 2-1B medical droid could be seen fussing with several monitors. It moved closer to the camera, and the image shook as it zoomed in on Caloc Tiac's torso and head.

"Lozzan!", he grinned widely at her, the scar on his cheek somehow looking more prominent than the last time she had seen him, like it had been freshly opened.

For a second, she couldn't believe her eyes. Not three days ago, she had heard the news that Caloc Tiac and his Master, Stass Allie, had been lost in the depths of space between Shili and Pantora and Coruscant. A few probes had been launched to find them, and a dozen or so had reported false idents found, which had indicated the ship they had been travelling in might have broken up in hyperspace. She had wanted to travel to find him – had even lodged a request without her Master's knowledge – but was yet to hear anything from the Council. The lack of information had been frustrating. She had almost given up hope of seeing her friend again.

Come to think of it, perhaps that was why she craved leaving the Temple. She wanted to have an adventure to celebrate Caloc's life and the career he should have lived.

And now he sat before her, alive and well, apparently being checked over on a ship in high orbit. Her eyebrows creased together in anger and she said the first thing that came to mind, "What is the name of the Old Force Wielders are you doing making me worry like that, you worthless piece of Menachi meat?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and though she immediately regretted the insult, Caloc only laughed. "It's good to see you too, my friend. Are you well?"

She flushed, ashamed that her anger had gotten the best of her. She was a Jedi. She didn't bow to her emotions. She mastered them. Taking a deeper breath, she tried again.

"How are you alive?", she flicked her forefinger through the hologram's artificial ear, but it coalesced around her appendage. "We all assumed the worst!"

"So I heard.", Caloc's smile faded slightly as he winced. Whether from regret or pain, she couldn't tell. "I can explain everything later. Right now, I need to get off the Scythe. Any chance you could come up and get me? I would come down there, but Stass and the Pantoran delegation have already left, and I don't want to bother any of the pilot's here."

Lozzan was still trying to grasp the simple fact that her best friend was alive. She didn't think even really hear the request, and it was only when he grinned back and said something that she realised she had been nodding. She smiled like she had heard his every word and said her goodbyes, promising to hurry.

The holoprojector sputtered off and Lozzan numbly turned away from it. She looked down at her arms, wondering if she had been hit during her and Tia's duel, and was in a coma dreaming this. But no, everything seemed too real. Caloc was alive, and had asked her to come and get him. Prioritising that, she began towards the turbolift. From it, she could reach the north-facing hanger. Who was in command there for the month? Technician Shrew, the Mimbanese who had helped Lozzan prepare her fighter on more than one occasion. She could get a ship from the bays there and fly up into to collect her friend from whichever ship he was on.

And finally, the waves of uncertainty disappeared. For the first time in three days, Lozzan felt joyful. A real, honest grin crossed her face, and she broke into a run. What an excellent day this was. She wanted to find Caloc and punch him for making her worry and hug him until his chest exploded. What a glorious day indeed.