Entry Seven
I was allowed to change my mind on trivial matters when under the strain of boredom.
I held my lightsaber and faced human male peer, Prezly Waaren, on a dueling mat in the training room. Zhar Leston, a Twi'lek Jedi Master, refereed. Several other padawans at the sidelines spectated with steely interest on their faces. "Ready."
We raised our hilts in both hands and activated them at the same time. Hiss and sizzle became a deep hum. "Fight." I stayed in battle stance, my left foot set firmly a pace behind me.
Prezly ran at me until in reach and swung at my knees.
I rotated my hilt a sideways one-eighty, pointing the tip to the floor. Our blades crashed on the outside left of my body.
He pulled a full circle over my head and at my waist.
I moved my blade to the right and blocked.
He tried to overcome my strength, pushing for my torso. Our blades singed my robes at the hip.
I leaned back.
He leaned forward to compensate. The upper quarter of his weapon was close to the base of my hilt. I had the superior leverage.
I leaned to the far side in the direction of his push and dragged my saber along. Our weapons separated as I went for the outer calf of his leg and. . . hit.
Prezly fell and wailed like a shrill infant.
A few onlookers used telekinesis to drag him from the mat. Zhar raised his hand and closed his eyes for a few seconds, administering a psychic sedative to the defeated padawan, who fell unconscious. "Delgitto and Sidlanger. Go."
Human male Delgitto came cautiously for my front while holding his weapon in one hand horizontally between us . Twi'lek female Sidlanger, a known devotee of Ataru, rushed me from behind.
I triggered a burst of Force speed and zoomed, knocking aside his lightsaber in the same nanosecond that Sidlanger launched from the mat and all but flew to the wall behind my current opponent.
He and I each exchanged a spark-filled blow and locked sabers by the time the Twi'lek kicked from the wall meters above the floor and went like a blaster bolt for Delgitto's back.
He jumped out of the way. I spun my body to the side and ended up behind the still-suspended Twi'lek where I struck at her feet. . . missing.
She landed in a front roll, then turned and stood in the same movement.
I made for Delgitto again and stabbed at his chest. Sidlanger was upon the young man as well, swinging for his left shin.
He hopped over the Twi'lek's blade, parried my attempted stab, and landed again.
My temporary ally and I threw a series of powerful attacks at Delgitto, who then used the defensive style Soresu, keeping his blade close to his body.
Seconds wore on. We went for every exposed part on our enemy, but he rotated his wrists and swept his shining shaft in almost casual movements that frustrated me more and more. When I was wondering if we would ever find a break in his defense, Sidlanger brought her saber straight down for his head.
Delgitto, perhaps feeling her attack was too powerful to simply sweep away with his blade diagonal or vertical, raised his weapon over his head while tilting it horizontally.
Sidlanger let her blade "bounce" a few inches off of his, then struck down at his dominant hand.
He dropped his saber and fell to his knees, crying out.
I struck at the Twi'lek, hoping to capitalize on the distraction. I feared for my reputation as a duelist, feared that she may be the greater fighter, and I wanted desperately to dash my own doubts and prove my worth. The masters frequently complimented my talents with a blade and my aptitude for deep meditation. To lose this match would mean disappointing them and thus wounding my confidence in the years to come.
But she blocked. We flew into a heated duel of blurred, risky attacks and precise defenses. The Force and our own hormones pumped through us as we twirled our blades and bodies, each desiring nothing more at that time than to defeat and humiliate the other. My surroundings disappeared. My focus switched constantly to exposed parts of her body that decided my next surgical jab or slice, then to stopping her comparable offenses. Emotions stormed. I felt exhilarated as when Vox and I had descended through the atmosphere of Ambria, but now I could wield and direct those feelings to empower myself.
The end of the pulse-pounding dance came abruptly. Sidlanger repeated the attack she had performed earlier, jumping and flipping backward out of my reach to a wall, where she bounced off and zoomed at me. She straightened, becoming a projectile, stabbing for my face.
I parried her blade, then felt weight squeeze between my legs.
The Twi'lek grabbed my ankle as she shot under me. She tripped me and let go.
I landed in a push-up position, but my nose nonetheless smacked into the mat. My eyes filled with tears from the shock and pain. Most the students guffawed, clapped, or turned away in an effort to suppress themselves. Shame-fueled anger boiled in my belly, churned up through my veins and muscles, giving me a new sense of focus, purpose, and raw power waiting to be burst out through some show of physical dominance. I glanced up to see Leston close his eyes and extend a hand toward me, doubtless wanting to calm my embarrassment. He could keep his artificial emotions and placating lies, though. I shoved his psychic influence back with my hot feelings. The pink Twi'lek master appeared startled as I climbed to my feet, saber still in hand, and faced Sidlanger who stood with one hip jutting out, twirling her lightsaber lazily and smirking at me.
"Try to be positive," she sang. "You'll always have those cute dimples."
I walked for her, shoulders back and chin elevated, fist gripping the weapon at my side.
Her victorious energy lessened every step I took. She seemed even more startled than our referee, and took on a defensive stance with eyes wide and jaw gaping. My emotions radiated through the room, silencing the students. I was sure I heard Leston telling us to stop, but I would have none of it.
I raised my blade in both hands and brought it down on the Twi'lek, then pushed our locked shafts closer to her face. "Go back to the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Marry a nice Hutt."
She growled and twisted her body in a circle, going for my legs before my own blade could close the scant few inches to hurt her. I blocked, and swung for her head.
She blocked, but more sluggishly than last time.
We attacked repeatedly. I retained my strength and speed, but Sidlanger had lost her previous vigor. At last I slammed my blade into the side of her face and sent her sidelong into the hard floor, for we had left the mat some time ago.
My heart beat vibrant victory, and my pride had me feeling the most powerful Jedi that ever existed.
The feverish madness left me in a flash, though, when I looked down at my fallen foe sobbing on the floor. A red welt scarred the Twi'lek's face. Blood and tears streamed down her cheek and dripped off her jaw bone. I felt a sudden sickness with myself, then switched off my lightsaber and dropped the abomination of a weapon to the floor where I wanted to leave it forever. I turned around to see the many students gathered behind us. Master Leston squeezed past some of them; they had congested their numbers to keep the teacher at bay, perhaps because they craved to witness the violent urges they daily kept trapped inside themselves. A few clapped, cheered or hooted, but others appeared shocked and a few even eyed me in suspicion bordering on disgust.
"Sidlanger!" The pink Twi'lek man dropped to the padawan's side and gently moved her hand away from her face to replace it with his own.
"Bastila Shan." An oddly-inflected voice sounded from the doorway of the training room. Master Vandar, an alien who stood a few feet tall, motioned for me. He was humanoid, though I would pause to call him near-human, for his eyes were bulbous and heavily-lidded, his ears were long and pointed, his skin green-brown and leathery, and his tiny fingers ended in claws. It was hard to guess Vandar's age, but it was commonly accepted that he was in the centuries-range, if not shy of a thousand years.
I swallowed a lump in my throat which traveled down to the growing shame and fear in my stomach, and walked to Vandar, finding it difficult to express my utter humility given I had to look straight down at him when I stopped in front of him. "Yes, master?"
The alien locked his hands behind him and leaned his head back to study my demeanor. I stayed frozen in place and heard the mutters of gossip among the other padawans.
"She'll be banished for sure."
"Friggin' psycho, that one."
Vandar issued a long groan as he usually did when reaching some disturbing truth. "The Council shall deliberate upon this incident. Until we reach a unanimous decision as to your future here in the Dantooine Enclave, you are to remain on Vox Aben's ship. Leave your lightsaber where it lays. You are dismissed."
Soon after, I flitted my fingertips across prairie grass. Best to take my time on my journey to the ship, thinking on my best retorts for Vox's likeliest criticisms. Creating mental, hypothetical debates with my masters was a hobby I found both stimulating and annoying. Every padawan brushes the allure of the Dark Side from time to time, I thought. The Council must be understanding toward students who give in to their anger, or else the Jedi Order would be considerably lesser. The Jedi needed their numbers to combat the ocassional uprising of Dark Side acolytes, and depended on racial and cultural diversity to expand on their understanding of the Force through the generations.
Midway there, I stood on a hill and squinted out at the lake, its rolling waves sparkling like thousands of diamonds in answer to the setting sun. Vandar wanted to frighten me back into my usual submission to Jedi ideals, without realizing that I had done as much to myself when defeating Sidlanger.
I reached the maze of plateaus where, further ahead, the ship was docked in a land cavity. One kilometer left, then I would bravely face my grumpy Quarren master and give him further reason to resent humans. But deja vu descended on my mind. I halted and waited for the dizzying sensation to pass. I questioned why the present moment seemed a memory from days ago; I had been standing right here, when something relevant had happened on the cliff above.
"Precisely what I thought," Vox stepped from behind a boulder a short jog in front of me. "Taking a leisurely pace when a reprimand awaits." My master strode at me, glaring.
I kept in place, trying to piece together the new mental puzzle. And I finally remembered my vision. Vox was almost to me when there was a beast's growl from overhead.
A Zabrak man in black robes, wielding a double-bladed lightsaber, leapt from the cliff edge a dozen meters above us, aimed to land in our midst.
I became aware that my lightsaber was back at the Enclave.
Vox super-sped at me and grabbed me under the arms. The impact painfully compressed my sternum, emptied my lungs. He zoomed us onward, my legs around his waist, and then the Quarren stuck his heels into dirt to slow us down, else my back smack into the wall of a plateau. We clumsily came to a stop and regained our footing as dust and pebbles showered us.
The Zabrak roared in unadulterated rage and landed in my previous standing spot, the collision so absurdly powerful that the ground shook and a small crater formed about him.
"Who is he? Why does he want to kill us?"
"Return to the Enclave." Vox pushed me back and stepped between me and the Zabrak.
Highly-concentrated spiritual currents rippled in the air and converged on the Zabrak, who gripped his saber staff in both hands and presumably gathered more of the Force in himself to mount another over-the-top assault. His face, tattooed in a wild tribal design and twisted by malice, looked more animal than sentient. Six long, gnarled horns were set on his head.
"We're partners, Vox." I stepped up beside him and went into battle stance. The Force was my ally, even if my lightsaber was long gone.
"Remember your place. I bear a responsibility to keep you safe, and I intend to."
The Zabrak shot forward at us a few inches above the ground, fast as a blaster bolt. Vox Force-pushed me to the side.
I somersaulted and landed upright as thunder from the sonic boom blasted the air and a mighty wind immediately staggered me. A thick dust cloud sailed past my view of the two.
Vox had conjured gauntlets of white light that flashed and glowed around his fists and forearms.
The Zabrak spun and manipulated his staff with fluidity, striking at Vox from multiple angles a second.
Vox used his gauntlets to block, then punch or chop. He drove his enemy back inch by inch, but relented the same minuscule distance.
Both fighters called upon an infinite well of power and stamina as with their every motion each came dangerously close to the other's body.
Vox's fingertips grazed the dark one's face and robes.
The Zabrak lopped off the tip of a tentacle, sliced a flesh wound through an arm of the Jedi garment.
A voice spoke in my mind. "Go. . . Bastila. . ."
I blinked, breaking from the hypnotic effects of watching such a duel. I knew my presence right now distracted the valiant Jedi Knight, stunting his abilities. But I needed to save my dear squid-man. If he should die, I would die next to him.
"For the Jedi!" I ran at the Zabrak, Force-pulled the lightsaber from Vox's belt into my outstretched hand, and clicked the activator.
I brought a green blade down at my enemy.
The Zabrak thrust it away from him.
But Vox and I attacked, again and again, until the dark one went almost entirely on the defensive.
Vox chopped off one end of the staff.
The Zabrak, his style suddenly handicapped, leapt backward out of our reach and yelled out. A Force-push shockwave blasted outward from his body in all directions.
I instinctively erected a spherical barrier around myself and Vox, protecting us from the booming waves of distorted air.
The light guantlets vanished from Vox's arms and he groaned, sinking to his knees.
The barrier collapsed. I crouched down beside my master and pressed a hand to his front to support him.
"That. . . that is all I have to give, child."
"Stay put. I can deal with him." I kissed a tip of his diamond-shaped head crown and rose back up.
I gripped the hilt of my new weapon in both hands and began walking for the Zabrak. "Why are you here?"
The demonic man, pointing his crimson blade down at his side, frowned at me. He took his free fingers, pressed them to his throat, and shook his head. He mouthed words, but nothing came out.
I stopped a bit out of his immediate reach. "You are mute?"
He nodded.
"If that is so, how did you manage to roar like a beast when you first attacked us?"
The man reared his head back and roared again. The echo must have carried for kilometers.
"Let's put our weapons away," I said, feeling some sympathy for him. "You could draw a picture in the dust to explain yourself. I want to learn more about you, if you'd allow it."
I translated his next look to mean that he was partly mute, but intelligent enough to be insulted at my offer.
"The Dark Side lures, corrupts, and destroys." I parroted what Meetra had once said to our class. "You may wield anger to great effect, but at the cost of your soul's integrity. Emotions leading to destructive acts exact their destruction first in the heart."
The Zabrak raised his weapon and grimaced.
"Turn away from the darkness, friend. For your own sake."
He growled. . . and swiped at me.
I leaned out of his reach.
He huffed, kicked at the ground, and charged, flying into a fit of empty-headed attacks.
Then it happened. Jedi from the Enclave drew nearer. I felt their promise of relief to come. And somehow I understood that I was taking the right course by physically defending myself and only attacking through words. The truth clouded the Zabrak's mind, overcoming the focus of the Dark Side previously gave him.
"Your path leads to the final death." I constantly moved my blade in response to his amateurish onslaught, the Force and my own muscle memory automating the defense. "You shall fall into oblivion, lose everything you were or ever would be. Is that worth the abilities you flaunt? The power that fails you even as we fight here and now?"
The Zabrak suddenly went rigid. His lightsaber dropped from his grasp and deactivated when it hit a rock. My defeated enemy fell backward.
Sensing a new presence, I looked to the edge of a plateau. Meetra Surik and several Jedi Masters had arrived.
I clipped Vox's hilt to my belt and bowed at the waist to the rescue team.
Meetra stepped off the edge of the plateau and floated down an otherwise treacherous height, like a specter at nightfall, her short platinum hair, robe leggings and cloak tail moving as though submerged in liquid. The other Jedi followed her method. She made running motions before her feet touched the ground and a few seconds later we shared a brief hug and pecks on the cheeks. Vandar, floating in a hover-seat, broke from the group with Leston to check on Vox still lying unconscious.
"Meetra," Vrook said. "How long can you suppress his connection to the Force?"
"However long it takes to keep her safe."
"Get started."
Vrook telekinetically levitated the fainted Zabrak a few feet from the ground and Meetra walked to the alien's side where she raised her head, spread her arms, and closed her eyes, as though a priestess consecrating a sacrifice. An elderly Jedi in the company pointed at a tree, twitched his bony fingers, and summoned vines from the branches which snaked over and began wrapping around our prisoner.
I made for Vandar, Leston, and Vox. My master now stood and recounted his experience. "He was highly trained." I stopped beside him. He glanced down to the saber clipped to my belt and opened his hand in front of me.
I relinquished the weapon.
Vandar made a pleased sound. "Yet Bastila pierced through the Sith's willpower with the blade of truth. You have taught her well."
In my heart, I gave the credit to Meetra Surik.