The centrifuge sounds benign; whup whup whp whp.

The Twi'lek mumbled; "That's the pilot who can't hold her g's."


G's is a chalky feeling, your insides escaping past your spine, pain.


The TIE Interceptor dove into a spiral toward the rust colored planet.


Clouds whipping past the X-Wing splashed fast color, only exhilarating until the TIE dove again.

R5 scrawled Aurebesh across the screen but the colors were mesmerizing.

Chalky sickening pain rose as

the droid's kicked up the dampeners...


Then memory became a commodity I could not pay for...

Before I scream any louder I punch the brake.

When the white doors open I try to jump out. Try--it turns into a fall. I only want to curl up and implode around my sickness--

I struggled to my feet for whomever it is who is walking by in full flightsuit. Must be someone important at this time...

I managed to not throw up on General Skywalker and frantically hoped that his Jedi mind arts realize this is my current capabilities' version of a salute.

Suddenly he was holding me by the elbow and gravity was restoring my breath and normality. "Sir,"

The general said, "Ratka Ven suggested that you would be here, Blue Seven. Unfortunately he didn't know your real name."

I showed my teeth and straightened up. Now, see, I knew the Twi'lek's name... "Sy Ndakiel, sir, originally of Tiss'sharl." No one had deigned to joke about my reptilian-settled homeworld and I being human; no one bothered me until the dive over Folor.

"Why are you here, Sy Ndakiel?"

"Training for the g-forces, sir. Surely Ratka Ven explained my reasoning."

"I know that there was an accident." He looked at me intently, bluely.

"No accident, sir. My dampeners and computer were calibrated properly for the mission; the standard setting was too much for me. I must practice."

"Gravity is not to be run for your bettering like a flight simulator."

Is this an insult? "I am sorry sir."

"No, don't be. Think about this. Many planets' gravity is different, and life forms on each deal with this in their own ways, and adapt to a new place in their own ways. You flew well until you discovered, entering into the moon Folor's gravity shadow, this weakness. Yet you are still alive."

And incapacitated.

Skywalker said, "Sometimes, when still alive after an accident, a being has the opportunity to find out new things about the accident. I have found something about this one for you, if you wish to hear it."

I nodded.

"During your defense run, I worked on our Treble Base, on the night side of Folor. I was thinking--old thoughts, not enjoyable ones, about the lost Jedi tradition. I know that my sorrow sang to the Force because I heard an echo--from you, just before a different pain as you hit the gravity well wrong, distracted. Did you notice?"

"Not at all sir. Do you mean, I could sense you in the Force?"

"I called out. You answered in a way."

I did not know what to say.

He said, "Star-piloting may not be your skill. But would you mind if being a Jedi Knight is?"

That is why I am here, future Jedi Knights, speaking to you. It is why we are here. Perhaps you were working on the wrong passion. Wait for a master of the overarching arts to look down favorably on you at your moment of surrender; then misfortune will only be an amusing story as if you once watched it in a holo.