Thanks to reka1207 and TheMacUnleashed for reviewing!

I would like to point out that everything so far except the characters is canon. Miraluka are canon. Myrkr also is. According to Wookieepedia, not much happened there between 300 BBY and 9 ABY, which probably leaves me as safe.

***

Chapter 2

“What the ---- did you just do?” shouted Kanis from one of the bunkrooms. The older Jedi ran out to the main room. Irik stumbled behind, yawning. The jump to hyperspace had interrupted their sleep.

Jián stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and a fierce expression on her face. “We’re going to Myrkr.”

“Are you crazy?” Kanis demanded.

“My impression is that you can’t be crazy and pass your trials, let alone become a master,” Jián snapped back. “But, otherwise, yes, quite possibly. We all are. We can’t not be after what happened. But we are going.

“Why?” asked Renhu.

“We’ll need more food and some clothes, so we have to go somewhere. We’re fugitives, so we’ll fit right in there. It’s full of fugitives.”

“It’s full of fugitives because Jedi don’t go there!” Kanis argued.

Jián bared her teeth. “Precisely. It’s perfect.”

“But the ysalamiri!”

Jián shrugged. “We avoid them? They live on trees, not in cities, and they can’t be taken from their tree alive.”

“But we could accidentally – or don’t they create a big region of –” Arishe said. “He’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

“Well, we’ll have to watch out for – where is Vinka?” Jián realized that the Miraluka had not come out of the bunkroom. Jián stuck her head in there. The girl seemed to be sleeping.

“She woke up when we jumped,” Arishe told Jián.

“I’ll leave her for now. I don’t have enough energy to talk to her,” Jián whispered to the knight. Returning to the others, she spoke aloud. “It’ll be fine, if we don’t land in a city that’s affected by them and we’re careful and don’t try to use the Force too much there.”

“Insane,” Renhu grumbled.

“Too late. We’re going.”

“We can’t float forever,” Adan admitted. “We might as well be dead as we are. We need to choose one or the other – life or death – not this half-life.”

Arishe nodded in agreement. Renhu also nodded after an uncomfortable pause. Irik looked up at Jián with wide, admiring eyes. Kanis scowled.

“All right. How much money do we have?”

None of them had much. They weren’t given a lot of money even for missions, and they carried even less around during normal times. Kanis and Irik didn’t have any at all.

“We need water,” Jián decided. That went quickly on a ship that was lived in. “We also need a second set of clothes. How much fuel do we have?” she asked R7-H3.

It was enough. “Clothes first, then as much water as we can afford or can fill the tanks. More food if we have anything left over.”

“Then what?” Arishe asked.

“Then… we find a way to make money.”

“How?” asked Adan.

“Does anybody know how to play Sabaac?”

They all stared at her.

She attempted a smile. “We’re Jedi. We can find a way.”

“Yeah, right,” Kanis muttered.

***

Guess what, Merrek? After all those times you said that I was going crazy, I’ve actually done it! I’m going to Myrkr, and I’m taking six other Jedi with me! Can you believe it? Imagine what would happen if we did land in a city that was affected by ysalamiri. We’d all die of fear!

There was a reason why Jedi didn’t go to Myrkr, which had led to the planet’s distinction as a haven for smugglers and fugitives. That reason was called ysalamiri. Ysalamiri were furry lizards that had the ability to neutralize the Force around them, essentially creating a bubble in which it would be impossible to use the Force. When they gathered together, the field of neutral-Force could stretch over a huge area – enough to cover a city.

It would be dangerous to use the Force, anyway. It’s just Vinka that I’m worried about. She needs the Force to see. Actually, I don’t think she can leave the ship in Myrkr at all. Anyone who realizes she is a Miraluka will know that there’s something weird about her being there.

Jián decided to check on the girl again. Arishe, Renhu, and Adan were in the control room with her, but Kanis was hidden in the males’ room with Irik, who was sleeping, and Vinka still hadn’t come out.

The Miraluka was lying on a top bunk. Jián could see that she was breathing, but otherwise, she wasn’t moving. She couldn’t even tell if the girl was awake or asleep.

“Vinka?” she whispered. She said aloud, “Vinka, wake up, please.”

There was no response.

“Vinka! I need to talk to you. Wake up!”

The girl still didn’t move. Jián shook her gently. Finally, a hand lifted and pushed her arm away.

“We need supplies. We’re going to Myrkr. We’ll make sure to be careful, okay?”

The hand reached farther out and met Jián’s collarbone. She didn’t push hard, but the purpose was clear.

“If you’d say something so I knew you understood I’d go away.”

The pressure against Jián increased. She finally took the hint. “Okay. I’ll be back later, though.”

The hand returned to the body, and the girl turned over so her face was to the wall.

Jián didn’t have anything to tell her.

Oh, Merrek, what am I going to do?

***

The older younglings were having a lightsaber tournament. Knights and masters who wanted a padawan often watched things like this to see if any youngling caught their eye. There was nothing interesting in the first or second round. Initiates won with lightsaber maneuvers, trickery, or brute force. Jián doubted that watching this would help her any in her search. All the initiates seemed alike.

The first two battles of the third round were the same, but something changed in the third. Two Humans, a boy and a girl, were dueling. The girl, Jián had noticed, was a bit arrogant and relied on her Force abilities. The boy had won his battles by lightsaber prowess, but he seemed a bit slow.

The girl had noticed this, as well. “What are you, a sandcrawler? I can’t believe you’ve gotten this far. A four-year-old could move faster than you.” She continued to taunt him as they circled each other, parrying, waiting for a mistake.

The boy never responded. The girl became irritated. Her taunts became more personal, more cruel. Finally, the boy looked her in the eyes and said, “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

And he disarmed her with one lightning stroke.

Jián could never define what had attracted her to him. He had pretended to be slow for two-and-a-half battles. He had not risen to bait. And something about his statement – the pure confidence of it – had impressed her.

“Who is that one?” she asked the teacher after the tournament was over. The boy had been beaten in the fourth round.

“Merrek Razati.”

Jián had asked him that day.

***

Padawans. Jián had trained two before Merrek. Her first had died in the Battle of Geonosis with so many friends, classmates, acquaintances, and teachers. With everyone. With – Jián saw it through the bitterness of too much loss and shock at once – the Jedi Order. Her second padawan probably was dead, too. He had been offplanet. Jián thought of all those clones. And Merrek, a teenaged boy, had joined them.

There was more to think about, though. There were three padawans and a youngling on the ship, and Jián was the only master. She had to do something about them.

She wasn’t ready to think about that yet. Not about training. But she could handle Adan’s situation, she thought.

“What happened to your master, Adan?” Jián asked, turning her head towards the young man in an image of innocent curiosity.

Adan shrugged. “He – we were trying to run a blockade. I mean, the government of a planet had cut off one city, but they’d done it well. Air, land, space – all cut off. The people were starving, and someone had to do something about it. The Confederacy wasn’t going to step in. It was the planet’s right to punish a city – you know how they are. They were helping, actually. Someone had been bribed. So we were supposed to go in and bring supplies and do what we could. My master’s ship was shot down.” He looked down. “And I had to turn back, so there wasn’t even any point in his death. I don’t know how many more people died because of it. I try not to think about that.”

Jián nodded. Arishe winced. “So you’re a good pilot,” Renhu commented.

“I’m not too bad, but not great. Not like Anakin Skywalker or somebody.”

“I wonder what happened to him,” Jián murmured. “I hope he and Obi-Wan Kenobi lived. They could save us all.”

Renhu snorted and turned away.

“What?”

The Zabrak shook his head. Jián knew that many people didn’t like Skywalker’s arrogance, but he was a hero and one of the only Jedi that the public held in esteem anymore.

This probably wasn’t a good subject, so Jián changed it. “What were the Masters going to do with you?”

“They were deciding. They weren’t sure if I was ready for my trials yet.” His face, which had showed only mild sorrow before, fell. “I don’t know what’ll happen now.”

“What do you think should happen?”

“Is this a test?” His gray eyes searched Jián’s face.

“It might be.”

“I think you have the right idea. Figure out how to live, then find the other Jedi, then find some way to fix things. I don’t know what should be done about me. It doesn’t really seem like the galaxy’s going to care one way or the other right now. I just like the way you’re treating me right now. Like I know what I’m doing, even though I’m only eighteen.”

“I’m only twenty-three,” Arishe pointed out. “Five years isn’t so much.”

“Twenty-seven,” Renhu offered.

“I do feel old,” Jián said. And that was terribly wrong. She was still so young and inexperienced compared to the group that most Jedi had referred to as the Masters for centuries. But Kenobi was younger than she was, and he was – or had been – on the Council. Things were changing. “Thirty-six.”

“Ancient,” Adan agreed with a weak smile. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

That was enough for Jián. If he could joke about something in a time like this – and then recognize how terrible it was – he had what was needed. She stood up.

“Okay. I have no authority to do this, but I am the only master on this ship, and until the Council regains charge of the Jedi, I am the only person who can act on this situation. Stand.”

His face full of apprehension, Adan stood to face her. Renhu followed, then, slowly, Arishe. Jián flicked her lightsaber onto its lowest setting and ignited it. Renhu, then Arishe, did the same.

Jián licked her lips. She was miserable, dirty, and, if the Force had any sense, she would have been bloodstained, too. She was standing in an old ship with two knights and an astromech droid for witnesses. This was not the right place. She had never been on the Council. She had no right. And she had the strong feeling that it had become wrong to use a lightsaber carelessly, use it for anything but fighting. Everything was wrong.

“By my right as the only master available, and by the will of the Force, I name you, Adan…”

“Hanijki.”

“Adan Hanijki Jedi Knight.”

“Of the Republic,” Arishe whispered.

“Of the… Of the Galaxy.” Jián swept her lightsaber close to Adan’s face, and his sandy padawan braid fell to the ground. He had blinked, but barely flinched, she noticed approvingly.

The blades disappeared. “If I ever have to do it again, I’ll prepare for it first,” Jián grumbled. “You! Droid. Are there any scissors around here?”

“You did fine,” Adan said.

“You say that because you’ve never seen the real ceremony.” And might never.

“I liked that – Jedi of the Galaxy.”

Jián shrugged, took the scissors from R7-H3, and trimmed Adan’s burned hair. Arishe sat again.

“No, really. I think it was good.”

Jián shrugged again and put her lightsaber away.

***

“We’re really going on a mission?” Merrek asked. “Really?”

“Do I ever tell you something that isn’t true?”

“Not yet.”

“I won’t. Ever. We’re going on a mission.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating the idea. “What’s it like?”

“What?”

“The galaxy – outside of the Temple.”

“That depends on where you are. How rich the people are.”

“Why do people need to be rich?”

“They need money to buy food and clothes and everything else. If they don’t have it… You’ve had history class.”

“You don’t have money.”

“I have the Jedi. We pay for everything together.”

He nodded, satisfied. “I’m glad I’m a Jedi. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I wasn’t.”

“Neither can I,” Jián murmured.

But she suddenly had to.

***

“Has it occurred to you that we have no way of making money?” Renhu asked. “We’ve learned the Jedi skills, but unless we can convince someone to give us a hundred credits, what good will that do us? It’s not as if we can admit to being Jedi.”

“We can bet. The Force can tell us what to bet on. We can cheat on gambling games using the Force.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“We can protect someone.”

“With what? Our lightsabers?”

“Our bodies. We don’t need lightsabers to fight.”

“And that won’t be a giveaway?” Adan asked. “How many people really know martial arts?”

“Enough. Do any of you know a language besides Basic?”

Adan and Arishe shook their heads. “I know enough Rodian to keep me from being shot,” Renhu offered.

“Translate. Is anyone good at fixing things?”

Arishe shook her head. “Hopeless.”

“Not better than the mechanics that would be in a city,” Adan pointed out.

“True. Fortune telling?”

“Oh, please,” Arishe sighed. “You expect anyone to not connect us with Jedi if we try that?”

“One or two people, I’m sure.”

“What?” The three other Jedi stared at Jián. “Then why did you suggest it?” Arishe asked.

Jián shrugged. “We’re able to do it.”

“When that boy asked it, I thought he was being mean, but now I think you might really be insane.” Arishe said. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right. We all are.” Jián knew that, as she became more frightened, the brave face she put on became stranger and stranger to onlookers. Her apprentices had commented on it time after time. They had probably thought that their master had been insane at times. “There’s some way. I know it. We’ll have to act as underworld operatives, but it’ll be good practice for the rest of life.”

“The Jedi are not all gone,” Renhu stated. “We will overcome this. The Jedi can’t be destroyed.”

“I’m sure they’re not all gone,” Jián agreed. “And we’ll do our best. And see.” She turned to the droid. “Are you good at anything?”

His answer was similar to Adan’s response to the idea of being mechanics: no better than anyone else. He was probably right.

Jián’s breath caught in a split second of anticipation, and then a scream tore through the ship.

***

A cliffhanger? I’m becoming one of those evil authors that ends chapters on a cliffhanger?