Timeframe:6 years post TPM
Characters:Obi-Wan Kenobi, Siri Tachi, Garen Muln, OCs
Summary:An ancient lightsaber has fallen into the wrong hands and now it is up to Obi-Wan, Siri and Garen to get it safely back.
The usual disclaimers apply. George Lucas owns it all; I am not making any money on this.
Wild Knights: Grasping an Ancient Fire
Wicked winds whipped frozen moisture violently through the air as the sleek form of a Jedi Starfighter gently glided through the white to the landing pad. The spacecraft shuddered under the gale force winds that sent snow and ice cutting across the canopy as if in a desperate attempt to erase the ship's color that invaded the white world.
Under the ice fogged windows, a figure shifted about but made no attempt to exit the warmth of the craft. Crystalline moisture clung to the fighter's surface but did little to mar the sight of the bright blue eyes that peered out.
The swirling world of unseen drifts that could swallow a full-grown Gamorrean whole seemed to creep toward the interloper. A few days at the station and the Starfighter would be lost in a pillow of white as evidenced by the many surrounding ships under their snowy blankets.
A frustrated growl escaped the single occupant as the deep brown cloak was drawn close and the cowl pulled low. With a muted swoosh, the canopy slid back and opened, revealing the Jedi occupant. Lithely leaping from the cockpit, boots leaving tracks in the gathering ice crystals over the triangular wing and then easily leapt off landing lightly on the snow blown duracrete.
The icy winds attacked the Jedi from every direction, invisible fingers grasping the hood and stealing it way with a yank. Short blond hair shifted about. Gloved fingers fought a desperate battle to pull the cowl close again. A sea of white surrounded the figure as she turned about staring into the permanent storm that wracked the frozen world.
"Arfour, patch me in to the old folks home," Siri Tachi barked into the wind. "I want to speak to Adi Gallia." She mumbled something best left incoherent while the astromech blipped and whistled its compliance.
Although it took precious few moments for the connection to be made, in the harsh environment it felt like the wait of a lifetime. Blue holoimaging splashed across the starfighter's wing forming into the familiar figure of the High Council member.
"This is punishment," Siri barked into the biting currents without preamble to her former master.
"I hardly consider this a punishment," the older Jedi replied as she folded her arms across her chest in an imperialistic fashion.
"You sent me to the coldest, most miserable planet in the galaxy. What did I do to deserve this?"
"Did you make a wrong turn at the Rischi Maze and end up on Hoth?" The master's mischievous grin turned into a thoughtful look before she added, "Selvax is hardly the coldest planet in the galaxy."
"The second coldest."
"Third, I believe." Giant snowflakes rippled through the holographic figure causing it to briefly destabilize.
Siri growled, tugging at her cloak. Even with the thermal suit under her tunic, it did little to ease the miserable frost that cut deep to her bones. "Master, I am sure there are more important missions I could be attending to," she said in a more diplomatic tone.
"This is an extremely important mission, my padawan."
"I mean rescue missions, infiltrating slave rings or chasing raiders. I'll even take a diplomatic assignment." She wanted to scream, well, actually she was all ready doing that to hear herself over the howling winds. "Not hunting relics!" Was she complaining too much? It was unbecoming of a Jedi, but she was cold, very cold. She had been asked to do many things in her young life, all of which were in the aid of those who needed help. The tragedy was that she could be helping but instead has been assigned to a menial task of hunting junk shops for a lost lightsaber. Certainly there had to be someone–anyone–else more qualified to do that. A senior padawan, perhaps?
"Yes, this is a punishment," Adi said shattering the freezing Jedi's reverie.
"I knew it," Siri shot back then realized that she was just being humored. She had lost the argument even before it begun otherwise she wouldn't be standing there.
"Padawan," Adi said seriously, her blue image shifting in the flurries. "The Prak'sha is important. It is a piece of who we were, who we are. It must be preserved and protected."
Hearing the words, or rather the tone in which they had been spoken, Siri knew that it was not just any mission even if she did not understand reasoning behind it. Since when has the Council been entirely clear about anything?
Adi raised a finely sculpted brow.
Ignoring the silent reaction, Siri swore to herself that she would find this lightsaber and bring it back to the Temple where it belonged. Meeting her master's gaze she caught a brief smile caressing the Corellian's lips. Tugging at the edges of her cowl, Siri hid an unhappy look and obediently nodded. "Yes, Master," she replied.
Yes, the Prak'sha was important.
"Have faith, my padawan, at least you are not taking on this mission alone."