Chapter 14 – One for all

Iqukejab, Master Daego's Headquarters

Silently, Jenson Daego observed the empty black robes lying on his desk. He thought. And the more he thought, the less sense it all made. Jaxxon's emotions had always been strong and had sent a clear and recognisable message through the Force. They had expressed one thing: fury. It was shrouded in the dark side, as if his actions had been drawn from this particular Force-essence. Master Daego knew this, because he had felt it. He could tell straight away when something was tainted, and he probably understood the fine line between light and dark better than any other Jedi, by reading memoires of old Masters and Sith Lords. It was what had enabled him to save his Padawan to begin with. Now, it might all have been for nothing. But Master Daego refused to believe it. The last couple of months, he had seen the real Dorma. A spontaneous kid who likes a laugh and is eager to learn. He hadn't associated him with the deadly Sith Marauder for a long time. Then again, this was the first time they had been separated ever since his redemption. He feared Jaxxon needed his guidance and counsel to keep him on the path of light. And that was exactly what he was lacking at the moment. And the risk was too great.

Master Daego stood up, slamming the palms of his hands onto the desk. He needed to find him, as soon as possible. He had liberated an entire town, and would love to continue and form an army of rebels like he had promised the Jedi Council, but he needed to prioritize. He needed to know what had happened, so he could alter his plans accordingly. And there was only one way to find out.

He put the robes and the black lightsabre in his wide, deep pockets. He looked at his own two swords swinging at his waist, took a deep breath and stepped out the door.

It was raining outside. Beneris had about the strangest climate imaginable. In the days he had been here, the weather had varied from hot and sunny to cold and rainy. Rain depressed the Weaponmaster. It felt like the planet spat out the digested waste it had soaked up. Like poison is rejected by the liver. And knowing that almost everything was going wrong, Daego had problems letting serenity prevail inside of him. He stepped outdoors, the rain pouring down on his short, brown hair. After half a minute, his robes were already soaked, and he hastily made his way towards the town's outer guarding post he had set up, which was occupied by two Mared. The former slaves had all gladly accepted him as their leader and had absolutely no problems executing his orders. They were obviously grateful, and their faith in the Jedi Order, or in him, seemed great. That was one of the main reasons he regretted leaving. But it had to be done.

“Everything all right, guys?” he asked when he stepped inside, grabbing a nearby cloth and drying his hair with it. He outpost was rather small, a hastily made wooden cabin large enough to hold five people at most. Inside were some chairs they had taken from one of the many cantina's in town, and a small, round table. One large window oversaw the plains next to the village, but due to the heavy rain, they couldn't see far.

The two 'guards', carrying a single blaster pistol and no armour for protection, mumbled something in their language, but the smile on their faces gave away they felt no disdain for the, to them, alien. Master Daego had some knowledge of their language, and translated their reply into 'just the water of the Gods outside, master Jedi'. It was a puzzling answer, and he did not know what to think about it. He decided to inquire further.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, in the stuttering, guttural, clacking language the Mared spoke. It was a funny language, but insanely difficult for a human to speak. Mared had slightly different vocal chords and mouth structures. That meant it was difficult, but not impossible for a human to make himself understandable.

“The Gods are giving us water,” the guard replied. “The essence of life. We are very grateful for it.”

“Indeed,” the other Mared agreed, “without the Gods, we would not be here right now. We owe them everything.”

Master Daego, intrigued by finding such profound religiousness in this small wooden cabin, continued asking questions.

“Which Gods do you honour?” he asked, sitting himself down on the edge of the round table.

“Three,” the smaller one of the two answered, “Mae'r'falts, Lai'k'tsant and Fyyl't'peña.”

“The divine trinity,” the other added. “One to create life, on to take it, and one to manage it. That is how we are guided, master Jedi.”

Master Daego respected the religions certain species possessed, even though he did not believe in anything but the teachings of the Jedi Order. But his own master, the late Jedi Weaponmaster Ulras, had taught him to always keep an open mind about such things. 'It is not our task to instruct a way of life, or impose it upon them. Our only obligation is making sure they have the freedom and self-awareness that allows them to live in a manner that best suits them and their beliefs.' It was a lesson he had always remembered. And he liked to know more about the Mared in general.

“So you have three Gods?” he asked.

“Exactly,” the smaller Mared said, ”Mae'r'falts creates life. It is through her that we are born, it is she who created the air we have to breathe and the planet we live on.”

“Wretched though it is,” Master Daego thought, but he didn't say it out loud. He didn't want to offend them.

“Lai'k'tsant takes life. It is he who decides which ones of us die, it is he who orchestrates wars and crime, plotting schemes against every single creature whose time has come. We do everything we can to appease him.”

“Why appease a God that kills you?” Master Daego wondered, this time out loud.

“So that he might spare you,” was the simple answer. “Lai'k'tsant is not an evil God. He shows mercy if you are kind to him. By creating life, Mae'r'falts also created Lai'ktsant, who makes sure the new lives can live their due time without being overwhelmed or repressed by an immortal, almost uncontrollable crowd. He is as much part of this world as anything other. Our deathgod selects people carefully though. Creatures with dangerous jobs, like soldiers or mercenaries, are on top of the list.”

“Why not Jedi as well?” Master Daego asked, “we have quite dangerous jobs as well, you know.”

“Yes, but you are protected by the Gods. You are chosen by the Gods. Some Mared could envy you for that, therefore not liking you. Call it prejudice if you will. The divine trinity has given you powers that transcend those of mere mortals, enabling you to keep the regular creatures in line.”

Master Daego rather liked this answer. “So we are representatives of your Gods?”

“Yes, but you give another name to the power they have granted you. You call if the Force.”

The Jedi smiled. He had heard loads of religions trying to logically explain the presence of the Force in the galaxy and the power of the Jedi without sacrificing their credibility. But he had to admit the Mared religion did a very good job at it.

“And how do you explain the presence of the Sith, then?” Master Daego continued, not knowing why he was so determined to find a hole in the Mared's thinking.

“Just like Lai'k'tsant opposes Mae'r'falts, the Jedi need counterparts too. Jedi are the representatives of Mae'r'falts, protecting the life she has given us. Sith are the servants of Lai'k'tsant, seeking destruction.”

“So, if you think Lai'k'tsant is not evil, you also think the Sith aren't evil?” the Weaponmaster asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, they are evil to us, of course,” he explained. “They are evil because they try to take away the most important gift we've ever received. But in the end, they do the work of the gods, yes.”

“Then why oppose them? If you oppose them, don't you oppose the gods as well? Doesn't that upset them?”

“No, not at all,” the Mared replied, growing more enthusiastic as the conversation grew. “I told you we try to appease Lai'k'tsant, right? What he values most, is courage, strength and skill. Therefore he created the Sith: ruthless, brave, powerful. If we can successfully oppose them, we are worthy of living on and he doesn't take us.”

“But the Sith haven't always been here. They've only been here for a week at most.”

“Yes, before the rule of risk applied. It all depends on the situation.”

Master Daego sighed, with a slight smile edging his lips. He could start bombing the Mared with facts and questions to prove the alien was wrong, but he had no desire to. He felt it firmly believed what it was saying. And it sounded quite logical, even to a Jedi.

“And what about the third God, Fyyl't'peña?” he continued.

“He controls our everyday actions, and our success at life. It is he who decided we are worthy for a long life by deciding how brave we are, how strong we are, and how many credits we will make.”

“So you decide nothing for your own?” Master Daego asked. He found this last statement of the Mared somewhat disturbing. According to this Mared, they were simple toys of the Gods. That meant a certain kind of oppression, which gave their religious leaders more power than could be right for a democratic society.

“If it is the will of the Gods, then so be it,” he simply concluded. “And even so, we can still shape our own events, determined by the qualities we possess. It's not like we're total puppets on a string, Master Jedi.”

It didn't convince Master Daego. Not entirely. He had seen a lot of societies in his 'career' that were controlled by a group of religious fundamentalists, leading to dangerous situations. But that wasn't what this was about. He came here to tell them about his departure, and to see how they would take it.

“You know,” he began, “I am thinking about heading East. Towards Sheleepolis. I need to find someone there.”

The two guards looked at him with disbelief. Their eyes seemed to get even bigger, which was a ridiculous and funny sight to behold, as they had proportionally and relatively very large eyeballs. Master Daego didn't laugh of course, another benefit of Jedi training. The larger one of the guards, who had held his tongue during the entire conversation about the Mared religion, even pouted. It seemed as if he was told he couldn't have a sweet even though he had been a good boy all day long.

“Are you just leaving us, then?” the taller one asked.

“Looks like it, Mar'r'ka,” the other Mared replied in the Jedi's stead.

“I do not want you to think I've grown tired of you or think you're not worthy of my attention,” Daego quickly said. “It's just that I have lost a lot of time here already. Not that it wasn't worth it. I mean...” He tried explaining himself without hurting the feelings of the Mared. “I can help others, just like I have helped you. And all of you have benefited greatly from my aid. And now you have reached a situation where you can more or less live on without a constant threat above your head, I should seek people who need my help more than you guys do.” Master Daego looked out of the window, and noticed the rain had stopped. He then looked back at the two aliens. “I hope you understand,” he added.

“We understand, Master Jedi,” Mar'r'ka said. “It's just that we're a bit scared. Not only the two of us, but the entire village. We don't know what to do. Don't forget we still have got loads of prisoners locked away in their own basements. What do we do with them? What if we are attacked by a group of Sith? Where do we get food? We've always relied on the Shelee before, who provided us with minimal wages for serving them, but at least it was enough to buy food and have a roof over our heads.”

“You're almost sounding like you miss those times,” the Jedi suggested.

“That's not what Mar'r'ka means,” the smaller Mared replied. “All he's trying to say is that we're in a situation that is new to us. We have to take care of ourselves now, instead of grovelling at the feet of our masters. After the Shelee emancipation, our people has done nothing but serve another race. In some ways, we already were slaves long before they put us in cages. The only thing that was different was that we did not get paid.”

“And don't forget the cages and the lack of food,” Mar'r'ka added.

“Yeah, that too. You see, master Jedi, we Mared were a proud people once. Before the Shelee emancipation it was us giving out the orders. But it's so long ago, almost no Mared alive has been through all of that. The current generation is scared, afraid and lacks dignity and self-esteem. Sure, there are some who managed to escape a life of poverty on Beneris, most of them by migrating to Coruscant or another important Republic planet. But most of us don't really know how to defend themselves from all... this. Lots of people believe Fyyl't'peña has stopped favouring our race. Do you know how it feels like to think that the Gods, those who made you, control you and will eventually take you, have abandoned you? Do you know what it feels like to be lost in a world you have no grip on? It is a nightmare, Master Jedi, plain and simple. And knowing that our souls will simply reincarnate and be thrown back into this mess depressed some of us even more. Not even suicide is a way of escaping the tragedy of daily life.”

“You believe in reincarnation?” Master Daego asked. “I thought you said your lifegod, Mae'r'Falts, gives you life? Shouldn't that mean every single Mared just vanishes after he dies?”

“No, not at all,” Mar'r'ka answered. “We believe there is a finite pool of souls. Every soul is granted a life, until death, upon which he must re-enter the pool. It were the divine trinity who created the souls. What happens from then on, Frr'a'cn has already explained to you.”

“Indeed he has,” the Weaponmaster replied, finally obtaining the name of the smaller Mared. He didn't know why he hadn't bothered to ask their names upon meeting them. But he had learned a lot about the culture of the Mared. More than the holovids in the Jedi Temple had shown him. He stood up. “Well, then I guess I'll just announce my leave to the rest of the village.”

“May you continue to do Mae'r'falts' bidding, master Jedi,” Frr'a'cn said, slightly bowing, with Mar'r'ka following his lead.

Master Daego nodded his head and put on a friendly smile. He walked over to the door, but felt a sudden urge to look back. He peered through the window, noticing a large, black mass on the horizon. He sensed something wasn't right. “Are there a lot of wild animals in these parts?” he asked without looking at the two guards.

“Hmm, no,” Frr'a'cn replied, slightly puzzled by the nature of the Jedi's question. “Mostly birds, and some small colonies of moles perhaps, but that's it.”

“Okay,” Master Daego murmured. His heartbeat increased. “Sound the alarm.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mar'r'ka asked.

“Sound the alarm! And do it quickly!” the Jedi tried to say as loud as possible without shouting.

“But... we don't have an alarm. Just these two pistols you gave us yesterday.”

Master Daego sighed. Of course, he was used to being in more technologically advanced places like this. “Very well, then. I want the two of you to run inside your village, and scream as loud as possible to get everybody's attention. Tell everybody to go inside their basements and make sure they understand they are not to come out again until I personally come and get them. Understood?”

“Yes, but... What is the matter?” Mar'r'ka asked, afraid he knew the answer all too well.

“I think payback is headed our way.”

Just outside Iqukejab

Now that the rain had stopped, Master Daego's robes were quickly drying. The sand underneath his feet was still muddy however, and every step he made produced a squishy sound. The sun shined brightly in his eyes, and he held up his hands to be able to see. Not that he needed his eyes to sense the three tanks and 40 soldiers the neighbouring towns had sent to destroy the village behind him. The tanks looked a lot like spiders. Giant three-legged metal spiders, with three cannons the size of Bantha-horns attached to their body. The soldiers were all Shelee. He stopped, his boots sinking up to his ankles. The small army was about 300 yards away, and the village was about half a mile behind his back. They approached him, and eventually stopped about 20 yards away from him. All soldiers pointed their guns at him, with the three walking tanks right behind them.

Master Daego wondered why they had stopped. He had expected they'd try to blast him to pieces the moment they saw him. His guess was that they were intimidated. A lone man, a human at that, not moving an inch while he was being approached by a battalion supported by heavy artillery was indeed quite odd. It was a clear indication of fearlessness, and one who didn't fear this kind of opposition had to be... special. That, and his Jedi robes of course, which gave away quite a lot as well.

“In the name of Zeborah and Mopaka,” the Shelee in front of the pack, obviously their commander, said, “move out of our way, or we shall blast you to pieces.”

He spoke in the dreadful, slithery language of the Shelee. This was a language he could not speak, only understand. He decided to answer them in the Mareddian tongue.

“Why are you targeting me? I am but an innocent, harmless traveller making my way East,” he lied, deciding to toy with them for a while.

Obviously, they were surprised by his knowledge of the language of their arch-enemies, and the fact he used it. It was a sign of total defiance, and a great insult to these Shelee who considered themselves to be superior to the Mared-race ever since they had enslaved them with the help of Darth Genocid. The fact an alien addressed them in the language of their sworn enemies while he probably spoke loads of other languages as well, was something they couldn't bear.

“Do not speak to us in a language covered in dung, you filthy rodent,” the Shelee commander said, his four lips sticking outwards in furious anger whilst fiercely dribbling. “If you are smart, you shall move out of our way, and be happy we had the decency to let you live, even after having shown great insult towards us noble Shelee.”

Master Daego could barely suppress a grin. “Can't you just... you know, go around me?” he joked, not altering his speech.

“We move for no man, especially not if he's an alien that can't even speak our angelic language,” the commander spat back. “This is your last warning!”

“You know, I'd like to move, but you see... I've got a nasty cramp in my toenails.”

“I think you will forsake your gift of comedy as soon as you feel our bolts destroying you. Soldiers! Fi...”

Before he could finish his last words, Daego took the two lightsabres at his hips, each arm crossing his belly as he took one. Before igniting them, he rolled to the side while unleashing a powerful Force push towards the group of soldiers. The battalion fell apart. The soldiers in front of the pack, the commander among them, were blown off their feet, taking with them those in the rows behind them. It seemed like a human domino. Every soldiers fell to the ground. The tanks started shooting. Huge, purple globes of energy sprang out of their massive cannons, and Master Daego had to jump high into the air to avoid them. He jumped onto the tank nearest to him, which was easily 30 feet into the air. This prevented the other tanks from shooting at him, as they didn't want the thing to explode. On top of the round, central body was a lid. Master Daego easily yanked it open, and jumped inside. There were four Shelee inside: a navigator and three cannoneers. They were so surprised by this sudden break-in that they didn't have the time to react. The Jedi sliced all four of them down in a matter of seconds. He peered through the relatively small windows, and positioned himself behind one of the cannons. He released a shot towards one of the other tanks. It hit it right in the centre, causing it to explode. A huge fireball and large pieces of burning metal scattered, killing lots of soldiers in the progress. The third tank however, knew something was wrong, and it released three shots at the same time, all of them coming towards the tank of the Weaponmaster. Knowing even he could not survive an explosion like that, he quickly jumped through the opening in the ceiling with everything he had in him. It exploded right underneath him. He could feel the heat of the blast, and the fire caught up to him. It burnt his feet badly, and his brown Jedi robe caught fire. The flames spread quickly, and they started licking his shoulders. He got rid of the robe, which was reduced to some bits of burning thread. He stopped ascending, and fell down again, right through the thick cloud of poisonous black smoke the explosion had left behind. He tried not to breathe, but the bump as he hit the ground had such an impact on his lungs that he had to gasp for air. That, and the awful pain he felt in his scorched feet. He inhaled the fume, barely losing conscience in the process. He created a Force Whirlwind on pure instinct, the cloud quickly disappearing. But Master Daego was severely weakened. And there was still a tank and some twenty Shelee soldiers intent on taking his life. Now he had to show why he was a true Weaponmaster. Through the last remains of the smoke, he saw a group of soldiers that tried to find him. Audaciously, he force-jumped right into them, igniting his lightsabres as he flew. He caught them by surprise, and because he was in the centre of a group of enemies, the last remaining tank did not attempt to shoot him. When he landed, he stretched both his arms and spun around his axis, becoming a deadly whirlwind of bladed energy. Six of the soldiers were killed instantly, their throats cut open, their entrails exposed, or a clean cut from the waist up. The few that miraculously survived open fire. He deflected their shots with ease, sending each bolt back to the soldier that had shot it. The smoke was completely gone now, and Master Daego was completely exposed. The tank took another shot at him, but he dashed forward and avoided it completely. The blast did knock him off his feet however, and it left him vulnerable for another shot. Luckily for him, the tank moved slow, and the Shelee soldiers that were still alive were terrible shots. He tried to cover himself by yet again leaping into a group of adversaries. He succeeded, but this time they were ready. He managed to deflect most blasterfire, but he received one bolt in the leg. He stabbed the surviving soldier, not quite so vigorously as before, and turned his head to look around. He saw the tank about 50 yards away from him, its cannons faced towards the Jedi. Underneath the tank, the rest of the soldiers hid. About ten remained. He gripped one of them with the Force, and threw him into the others. He force-jumped towards them yet again, only this time much faster than before, even though he had a blasterwound in his leg. He managed to cut them all down before they got up, and underneath the tank he was safe from its fire. He held his left-hand lightsabre up. It touched the central sphere of the tank, and he formed a circle, creating a nice opening for him to jump through. With a force push, he blasted the armoured durasteel into the sphere and jumped through. He landed inside the cockpit and spread his legs as he landed, so that he didn't fall down the hole again. He force-gripped two of the cannoneers and smashed them into each others. Then, he gripped the navigator and the other cannoneer and did the same. The tank quickly lost its balance, and Master Daego abandoned the tank seconds before it crashed by leaving through the opening he had created. He was victorious, but he had paid his victory with great physical pain.

Now that he had a chance to overlook the massacre, the pains and strains of battle washed all over him. His leg felt like it was on fire, his feet seemed like they were reduced to charcoal, his shoulders were entirely blistered, and he fell into a coughing fit that lasted over two minutes. He fell to his knees, then laid down on his back. It was then that he decided to return to Iqukejab, and remain there for a couple of days longer.

Coruscant, The Jedi Temple. Jedi Mess.

Zorn Quolyg-Naryn scooped a large portion of Iridonian beans in his plate, followed by a steak and a small bottle of ice cold Twi'Lek Tea.

“Seriously,” Maela said, who was right behind him, “ I don't know how you can eat that stuff. It's disgusting,” she added, comparing it to her own plate that had chicken breast, lettuce and a glass of water.

“We Zabraks have a solid stomach,” he explained, trying to excuse himself for his rather disgusting meal as they made their way towards a table. “Besides, these beans may look rancid, but they're incredibly good for your vision. You don't seriously think they'd serve unhealthy food in the Jedi Temple, do you?” he asked as they said themselves down.

“I don't know,” Maela said. “I'd be stuck with intensive diarrhea if I ever ate that.”

“Hmm, I like it when you talk dirty,” Zorn joked, as he put a handful of beans in his mouth.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Maela rebuked him. “And stop chomping like that, it sounds as if there's a horde of Bantha's at the table!”

“Hey, I can't help it if I have a healthy appetite,” the Zabrak replied with a grin. “What you need is culinary refinement.”

“What you need, is a couple of mutes when you're eating,” she bit back.

“Says the girl who snores like a Gamorrean,” Zorn laughed.

“I do not!” she cried embarrassed.

“Yes, you do. When we returned from the Glory you were snoring so loud I thought the hyperdrive was about to blow up.”

“Shhh!” Maela hushed. “Watch what you're saying,” she continued in a low voice. “We were never supposed to be there!”

“Indeed you weren't!” a voice from behind Zorn said. Maela's heart skipped a beat, but as soon as she recognised Zaeyn, she calmed down. The gigantic Zabrak sat himself down next to his brother, carrying a platter full of food. His lunch had the exact same composition as his little brother's. The chair almost collapsed under his enormous weight. “You should be more careful of what you say.”

Zorn sighed, said, “What are you doing here, Zaeyn? Can't you go and molest someone else?”

“I could, but it wouldn't be as much fun,” was the answer. “Besides, I needed to talk to you anyway...”

“Okay,” the Padawan said with an annoyed tone, “out with it, then.”

“Two things,” Zaeyn began while putting a heap of beans in his mouth and happily chewing while he continued, “fiwst 'f all, Mast' Kwaenos infom'd me dat you will wet p'moted tomoww.” He swallowed. “Then you'll finally be a Jedi Knight! Cool, huh?”

“Indeed,” Zorn replied, though he didn't feel as much joy as he had always believed he would. Ever since he was a little Padawan he had looked forward to the moment he would become a true Jedi Knight. And although he was already a Jedi in being, it was always nice to see it confirmed and recognised by an official rank and title. He was proud of being granted this honour of course. But he didn't feel anything. No tingling sensation, no prickling joy, no big smile on the face. He suspected it was because he had never truly completed his trials. Zaeyn had completed them for him. And although what he and Maela did aboard the Glory was worthy of a Jedi Master, it all seemed shady. He realised it was too late to turn back, but he couldn't bear the thought of having to live with this kind of lie for the rest of his life. And the fact it was his big brother that had put him in this situation only added to the frustration. He knew all too well Zaeyn had the best intentions and that he genuinely cared for him, but it seemed so typical of him and so contradictory with the Jedi Code. Everything Zaeyn did seemed so un-Jedi like, yet the Masters themselves would lick his heels in awe. And although Zorn realised his brother controlled a power greater than he could fathom, he felt the Masters feared him instead of respected him. Keeping him, training him, encouraging him was all part of their instinct for survival. For if Zaeyn would ever walk the path of the Dark Side, Zorn was certain he could wipe out the entire Council. And that was something he feared as well. He thought of Zaeyn as too emotional, too reckless, too violent; all qualities that had dark tendencies. Yet Zaeyn himself despised and criticised those qualities in others. The hypocrisy in this had infuriated Zorn more than once. He had often thought about how the galaxy would look like if Zaeyn wasn't a Jedi. And it hadn't been happy thoughts. Just like he had caught himself imagining how a lightsabre duel between Zaeyn and Darth Genocid would be like. He definitely admired his brother's abilities. But he disliked his personality at times, and his sometimes blatant disregard for the Jedi Code. To be a part of counterfeit Jedi trials, something that went against everything the Jedi-concept of purity and valour stood for, was something that didn't sit well with him.

“So,” Zorn said, “then we’ll finally be equals, huh, Maela? Two knights.”

“Three knights,” Maela added, nodding towards Zaeyn. “And besides, we’ve always been equals. Every Jedi is equal to one another, whether he’s a Padawan, apprentice, Knight or Master.”

“Don’t think so,” Zaeyn replied.

“What?” Maela asked, slightly confused. What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Zaeyn continued, “if you had a young Padawan and someone like, say… Master Kae in a Force Chamber and you had to electrocute one of them so that the other might live. Who would you pick?”

“I, erm. I don’t know,” Maela hesitantly said.

“Of course you do,” Zaeyn replied, slightly grinning, “you’d save Master Kae. Because she’s much more powerful and much more useful to you. We’re all selfish hypocrites inside, Maela.”

“Yeah, and you’re living proof of it,” Zorn said. “Besides, it’s a ridiculous example. First of all: Master Kae would never be captured. Secondly, she would gladly give her life for that Padawan. And…”

“Possibly,” Zaeyn answered, “but you have to know two things: she is not invincible and she does not hold the power to execute on of them.”

“Yes, yes, we understand your point,” Maela intervened, sensing the two brothers were about to argue again.

“But it’d take a truly powerful Sith to capture and imprison Master Kae, though,” Zorn added, ignoring Maela’s attempt at restoring peace and quiet.

“I know a lot of people who could do such a thing,” Zaeyn replied. “Genocid, Prime, Jannays, Dorma, Daego,…”

“Okay, now you’re going insane. First of all, it’s Master Daego and him and Jaxxon aren’t Sith Lords.”

“Well, first of all, one of them was and who says only a Sith can defeat a Jedi? Other Jedi could, too…”

“GUYS!” Maela shouted. “Haven’t you noticed this discussion is totally beside the point now!? Look at the two of you, you’re like two babies crying over a Blob Candy! I mean, you should listen to yourselves! You start talking about things that aren't even relevant because they're never going to happen. You're both too damn proud to give the other an inch of breathing space, and... Ugh!” she let out, sounding a bit disgusted. Zaeyn and Zorn kept silent. They both stared at their laps and eventually resumed eating their meals. Maela also calmed down, and chewed on a bit of lettuce.

“There's, erm... Something else,” Zaeyn said after a couple of minutes.

“What is it?” Maela asked with a sigh, hoping Zorn wouldn't use this to start fighting again.

“Master Kraenos said they're strongly considering me for promotion as well,” he declared. He grinned faintly. “Become a Jedi Master.”

“What?” Zorn sceptically said, to which Maela rolled her eyes. “Why? Why now of all times?”

“Well, because they thought my actions of the 'Glory' deserved a promotion. They were extremely impressed with the information I provided them with, and of course how I managed to escape the starship.”

“Oh, that's just great,” Zorn said, gritting his teeth. “We do all the hard work, and you get promoted to Jedi Master! Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well,” his big brother replied, “I just thought you should know. And besides, it's not as if I don't deserve it,” he added and he ate another mouthful of beans.

“Maybe,” Zorn answered, “but if that's the reason they're initiating your promotion, then Maela should be promoted as well.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Zorn,” the female Knight said, “I haven't been a Knight for a year, and I'm way too young.”

“Even I am almost too young to be even considered for promotion,” Zaeyn agreed. “I'm only 26 years old, you know. I'll be one of the youngest Jedi Masters in galactic history at this age. And Maela's 4 years younger than me.”

“What difference does age make?” Zorn complained, “I'm 20 years old, and I've been a Jedi for almost 19 years. That means I've got 19 years of experience.”

“Were you that young when they took you?” Maela asked, slightly amazed.

“Yep,” Zaeyn replied in his brother's stead, I was 7 years old when my master told me my little brother was being brought to the Academy. I was so excited back then, I still remember the feeling. I even remember the first time I saw you, Zorn. With your tiny headspikes that had barely sprouted. So cute!” he added with a wide grin. Zorn couldn't help but grin also.

“How old were you, then, Zaeyn? When the Jedi took you, I mean,” Maela asked.

“'Bout the same age,” Zaeyn answered. “How about you, Maela?”

“I was about four years old when they brought me to an Academy. I studies at Tython up until my eight birthday. Then Master Daego chose me as his Padawan and I moved to Coruscant. But I was older than you guys when I first became an apprentice.”

“Zorn and I were very, very young when we first arrived,” Zaeyn agreed. That also explains why we're two of the best Jedi around.”

“We're not two of the best,” Zorn brought in. “Far from it. Master Kraenos, Master Kae, Master Lumenos, Master Daego, Master Ahas, Master Masdet,... They're all extremely powerful.”

“With all due respect to our Masters, Kraenos and Daego in particular, but I am at least their equal in skill and combat,” Zaeyn said with a cocky expression. “It may sound arrogant, but it's true. That's why they're promoting me, you see? Master Quolyg-Naryn. Quite a mouthful, innit? Maybe Master Zaeyn would be better. And you, my dear baby brother, have more potential than you realise.”

“Oh come on, I can't even hold a lightsabre properly.”

“Your datapad is more deadly than any lightsabre,” Zaeyn smiled. “You're the best pilot in the Republic. You have a very strong connection to the Force.”

“It's true,” Maela agreed, “you were able to sense Jaxxon's faded life-force all the way from Beneris. Even the Council couldn't distinguish it properly. You probably saved his life by doing so. Otherwise Master Daego would never have been granted permission to return there.”

“What?” Zaeyn said, looking confused. “You convinced the Council to let Daego,... I mean, Master Daego return to Beneris?”

“Erm, yeah,” Zorn nodded.

“Hmm. That means they put a lot of faith in you, baby brother.”

Suddenly, sprang to Maela's mind. “Hey, Zaeyn. You claimed to be the equal of Master Kraenos and Master Daego in skill and combat. How about... You know,... Jaxxon?”

“Dorma?” Zaeyn spat the name out, as if he had received a spurt of Sandman diarrhoea in his mouth. “Why'd you want to know?”

“Well, he's also very powerful... Isn't he?”

“I could slaughter him without even having to try,” Zaeyn coldly said.

“You think so?” Maela asked, already regretting she mentioned Jaxxon's name.

“Definitely. I mean, he was defeated by Master Daego, by a bunch of Shelee and he collaborated out of fear for his new Master. Not exactly what I call a valorous warrior...”

“It wasn't fear that made Jaxxon join us, but enlightenment,” Zorn said. “How many times have we had this discussion, Zaeyn? 50 times?”

“Possibly. Still, I could slice him in half if I wanted to.”

Both Maela and Zorn sighed, and the three of them finished their meals in silence.

Beneris, just outside of Sheleepolis

“Stay together, guys,” Jaxxon shouted so the entire group could hear him. They had been running for hours, first escaping the prison, then rushing through the streets of Sheleepolis, only avoiding capture and patrols thanks to Jaxxon’s Force-sensitivity. He had guided them to the edge of the primary hostile territory and for the first time since Jaxxon had defeated the Shelee-guards, they could slow down a bit. The entire group was panting, except for the young Jedi, who, as the rest sat themselves down, was looking for someone.

“Kieran!” he shouted, “where are you?”

“Over here, rudeboi!” Kieran replied, holding up an extremely long arm so Jaxxon could spot him right away. He had carried Lara throughout the entire escape and now laid her down as softly as he could manage with his triple-jointed arms. “She be mad cold, ya kno’. Strong woman she is to be fightin’ dem pain and bloodloss. Dese be some vex bloodclot injuries, seen?”

“Yeah…”, Jaxxon said in return, wondering what Kieran had just said. “You know, I do understand Mareddian now, so you could just speak that if you want to,” sincerely hoping he’d accept the proposal.

“Nah, star, me havin’ great time wiv Basic and ting, sight? We ‘ave to unite wiv dem Republic. One love and ting.”

“If… you say so,” the Padawan mumbled, and bent himself over Lara, carefully inspecting the extent of her injury. It was a gashing wound, but luckily not yet infected. It went deep, though, and she would be in a lot of pain if she hadn't been unconscious.

“Can I and I fix her up, ras?” Kieran asked.

“I don't know,” Jaxxon truthfully replied. “I'm not exactly a very good healer. I know Jedi who could probably fix this in a couple of minutes, but... I can barely heal myself, let alone someone else. I couldn't properly fix my wound, so I've got this huge scar right now. It's strange, though...”

“Strange?”

“Yeah. See, Kieran, I used to be quite good at it, but then I had some sort of... alignment switch, you see?” the Padawan explained, not telling his friend he used to be a Sith. “And now I can't seem to properly heal myself or anyone else, while I am supposed to be better at it now than I used to.”

“The I don' understand, bredren,” Kieran confessed. “Can ya heal her or not?”

“I told you,” Jaxxon sighed, “I'm no healer! I will try to help her, but I'm not promising you anything.”

“Then may Lai'k'tsant help her,” Kieran mumbled.

“Wha?” Jaxxon asked confused, raising his eyebrows towards the Mared.

“Nuttin',” Kieran answered, shaking his head. “Mared religion an' ting.”

“I see,” Jaxxon said, turning his attention back to the fallen Twi'Lek. He softly stroked her wound with his index finger and focused. He could feel the corrupted energies and the life-force slipping out of the cut organs. But he couldn't manipulate them, let alone reverse them. And with every single second, he felt Lara become weaker and weaker. It was frustrating for Jaxxon: being able to see the cause and consequences of his friend's injuries, but not being able to do a damn thing about it. And he should be able to. He should be. He was a Jedi. If he couldn't help a single woman from dying, then how could he help an entire race? He closed his eyes, concentrating deeper, trying to remember how he had healed people back when he was a Sith. And then, he was the soldier on The Brittanica again. He healed him from his wounds, so he could continue to torture him and extract information. He nearly saw it...

“All gwa'n well?” Kieran suddenly interrupted.

“You know,” Jaxxon crossly replied, taken out of his focus, “it'd be much easier if you weren't poking your nose in my affairs every single damn second, Kieran! I ain't no fucking healer, it takes a while, got that? Now leave me alone for a moment, damn it!”

Kieran remained silent, and held both his hands in the air, slowly backing away. He seemed quite surprised by this aggressive outburst, but Jaxxon was too occupied to notice or care. He laid his hand over Lara's wound again, but couldn't retrieve the necessary focus, no matter how hard he tried. “Damn it!” Jaxxon shouted, slamming his hands into the ground. “Why!!??” The Padawan felt a tear forming in the corner of his left eye, and added with a whisper, “Why can't I save you, Lara? There has to be some way...” He bit his lower lip, thinking about alternative medicine; but to no avail, he couldn't think of anything else that could help his friend.

“Lara,” he said, bending over her so he could whisper in her ear, “I don't know if you can hear me, but... I'm not sure whether you're going to make it through the night or not. I've done everything I can, and I'd gladly sacrifice myself to save you, but...”

And then suddenly, the young Jedi knew what he had to do. “Hang on a second... Maybe I can!” He remembered an old technique he had once learned from Darth Morlan when he was just a little boy. A variation of the Death Field-technique.

“When commanding an army,” the old Dark Lord of the Sith had taught his apprentice, “you can rip the life-force from the opposing party, and insert it into those under your command.” It was a very advanced dark-side technique, but Jaxxon had pulled it off nonetheless, albeit in smaller quantities than entire armies. It was a long time since he had done it, but he was certain he could pull it off right now. The only problem was that he couldn't sacrifice anyone else right now, so he needed to rip his own life-energy out. And that could become quite painful. And dangerous. But he had to try. He had to do this, to prove he could save both individuals and entire populations. It was a self-imposed test of which the outcome could have extremely fatal or extremely rewarding results.

“Here we go,” he murmured and he placed one hand on his chest. A red glow emanated from his hand and it soon evolved to a maroon spark. Jaxxon became instantly light-headed, but kept going, draining the life out of himself. And when he thought he couldn't take any more, he directed his hand towards the blue Twi'lek. It hit her right in the chest, and as Jaxxon heard the high shrieks of a woman feeling pure life shot into her, all became black in front of him.

Next chapter: Kieran becomes the new leader of the group of Mared and is instantly burdened with problems both menial and serious. In the mean time, Master Daego is nursed back to health by a group of willing Mareddian girls and the Quolyg-Naryn brothers are both promoted.