*Note to all- This story is not dead, just in a bit of a coma. A new site will be up soon to replace the one in my sig. Here is a segment set after the last part posted.*
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Jedi Master Puurlaris sat aboard the silver Jedi shuttle as it made it’s way into the Dagoban atmosphere, his four skinny tendrils hanging over his light purple neck. The Ukarasi Master was ordered by the Jedi Council to take his Apprentices and oversee the shipment of Quorosan slaves being sent to Dagobah as a sign of alliance between the two planets. His mostly humanoid face, excluding the blue, glaring eyes and bony ridge going down his temples to his nose, stared at his Jedi Apprentices in pride. He felt this mission would greatly increase their Jedi abilities, and bring them closer to their advancement into possibly being a Padawan, and soon, into Jedi Knighthood.
Marisha Thou was greatly progressing in her training. She has a strong sense in the Force, a sense that Puurlaris felt when he first took her as his Apprentice. She was strong in mental abilities, like healing, persuasion, and a few others, and preferred a non-violent approach in dangerous situation. Marisha had learned to use a saber with marginal talent, but only carries with her a small light-dagger if it fighting is really necessary.
However, her brother, Korush Thou, was more in tune with the offensive form of Jedi training. He was a good thinker, yes, but at times realized that sometimes the easiest, and sometimes the best way out of a situation is with a saber. When he is being threatened, he waves it off and is prepared to fight. He is also good with mechanics, and enjoys working with speeders, ship engines, and other mechanical devices.
Then there was Z’xarus. He was a Duros, and wasn’t as attuned with the Force as his fellow Apprentices were. He was at times too violent, and had a problem with controlling his anger. He looked up to Korush, whom he felt was an example of what a Jedi should be. He disliked Marisha, however, whom he looked at as weak. Z’xarus was younger than the other two, who were both around sixteen, but with a few more years of training he would be a much better Jedi than he is now.
Puurlaris had great faith in all of them, and felt they would make great Jedi Knights. He greatly admired the process of taking three or more Apprentices under his own care, training them and letting each other train the others as well. That’s why he feared the new Padawan system that was beginning to be wider spread in the Jedi Order. He didn’t like the idea of having the students trained all on Coruscant, and then having a single Apprentice chose by a Master as his Padawan. In that process, the Apprentice doesn’t have the advantage of not only learning from the Master, but from the other students. The process would also decrease the number of Jedi in the galaxy, which would be a bad situation now in this time of galactic unrest. All of his students were around the age of fifteen, but if he couldn’t use the current system of numerous Apprentices, he would have lost them many years ago, and they wouldn’t be with each other.
Despite those worries, the Padawan process was an option, and an option every increasingly chosen by Jedi Masters in search of Apprentices. He feared that soon the Jedi Council would declare that the required practice, due to the fact that it gave more attention to the individual student. Yes, it would cut down on the occasional ‘bad’ student, but its disadvantages should outweigh the advantages.d
Meanwhile, Z’xarus was practicing his saber skills with a remote near the back of the long cabin. He was doing quite well deflecting the bolts of the circular floating droid, until he deflected a shot that hit Marisha in the arm.
“Oww!” she complained. “Z’xarus, watch what you’re doing!”
“Lighten up,” he replied, squinting his red eyes slightly. He deactivated his saber and held it at his side. “It didn’t hurt that much.”
“I’d rather not be shot in the arm on this trip, okay?”
Puurlaris cut in, “Enough, you two. Z’xarus, try controlling the blasts better. Try aiming for that chronometer on the wall.”
The Duros nodded, and his saber made a snap-hiss as it came back to life, casting a faint blue glow surrounding him. He began deflecting the bolts again; ignoring the glares he was receiving from Marisha.
She eventually stopped glaring at Z’xarus and resumed the conversation she was having with her brother. They were discussing the mission they were undertaking in a while, and Korush was only half listening.
“I really don’t care. The Quorosans won the war. They can do what they want. Killia isn’t even a member of the Republic, so the government doesn’t have the right to do anything anyway.”
“How can you say that, Korush? They enslaved an entire planet!”
“Not quite. Only those who supported the war effort. Innocent bystanders were free to go whenever. On both planets.”
“Well, whatever. Slavery is just plain morally wrong. I don’t think it’d be that bad of an idea if we let some rioters free the slaves. Why do we have to protect them from being kept from forced labor?”
“Because it’s our job and it’s not our place to decide either way. Jedi are supposed to fight for good and preserve peace in the galaxy, not meddle in political affairs. We are supposed to keep violence endangering anybody’s lives, including Quorosan slave drivers.”
“They are technically servants,” spoke the Ukarasi spoke. “There won’t be any slave drivers.”
“Yes, master. However, the fact remains. We are on a mission on which our own opinions should have no effect on our actions.”
Marisha shook her head. “I think morality should be considered a higher priority than what we have the ‘right’ to do.”
Korush simply shrugged. “Fine. I expect you to take the blame when Master Puurlaris receives a scathing from the Council.”
“Master, how do you feel about this?” Marisha asked, ignoring the comment made by her brother.
Puurlaris sighed. “Like your brother, I don’t have an opinion either way.” Korush smiled at Marisha, and she scowled back at him. “However, I have different reasons for making that decision.
“You see, in my opinion, we are all slaves in one manner or another.”
Marisha frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“We are all subject to some kind of superior being or motive. The Jedi is slave to the will of the Force. The occasional Dark Jedi is slave to his own lust for power. The civilian is slave to the law, and the law enforcer is slave to his sense of duty, and how he enforces the law. The politician is slave to public opinion. Slavery to an actual master is simply a representation of real life. It’s been a part of life for a very long time, and is certainly nothing new.”
“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“Thank you for respecting my judgment to such great extent,” the Ukarasi smiled.
Marisha looked down. “Sorry, master.”
Puularis ignored her and looked out the transparisteel window. The shuttle was entering Dagobah’s atmosphere. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom saying, “We’ll be landing on the surface in two minutes. A squad of Republic troops will be in the city shortly. They took a stop at Ferj’ka City for a while and started moving again recently. Please strap yourselves in.”
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The silver, cylindrical-shaped shuttle flew to the landing pylon by the Dagobah City Capital Tower, escorted by two red arrow-shaped Republic-style fighters modified for Dagoban use. The large transport carrying the Killians had already landed, it’s large brownish-gray triangular body covering most of the platform. The Jedi shuttle landed on the platform directly to the right of the transport, and the ramp lowered in time for the Jedi to watch the slaves exit the transport.
There were about thirty of them, their gray, hairless heads looking down. They didn’t seem distressed, as Puularis could tell, but instead they seemed to be trying to ignore the large, screaming crowds in front of them. They wore drab, gray attire with black, shiny boots. Four Republic soldiers wearing blue suits and helmets and carrying long rifles accompanied the slaves.
The city had large buildings with green-beige bricks and stone. The Capital Tower was much larger than the other buildings; it’s numerous sharp spires reaching up to the sky. In front of the Tower was a large podium below the two platforms, and in front of the podium was a large courtyard with nearly two thousand or more yelling Dagoban citizens.
The crowds screamed and yelled at the sight, whom were all standing in front of the raised podium in front of the platforms. The Dagoban Governor was preparing to speak. The audience was composed mainly of Dagobans, split between supporters and those deeply opposed to the slaves’ arrival, dressed completely in black in a sign of depression and anger. The two groups seemed to be separated, with the supporters on the right and the protesters on the left. Puularis saw that the Governor was preparing to speak, and another politician introduced him. Holding the voice amplifier to his mouth, he cleared his throat and spoke:
“My good people of Dagobah, I present you Governor Vura!”
The crowds yelled louder than ever, mixed between excited cheers and hateful insults. Vura approached the podium, and the guards keeping watch over the crowds started to become worried as the Dagobans began to get more restless and seemingly more violent.
“Fellow Dagobans,” he spoke proudly into the amplifier. “Today marks an important date in our proud planet’s history. Today we proclaim our allegiance and support for a planet fighting for freedom and their rights as a member of the Galactic Republic. Today we proclaim proudly that we are not a planet supporting the infringement of basic rights for a planet, but support the fundamentals that make the foundation of the Republic.”
Puurlaris winced as he felt a sudden rush of emotions. He felt the inevitable happening. Violence would soon erupt.
Focusing his attention, he felt one emotion the most strongly. Uncertainty, worry, and determination all mixed together, and suddenly a feeling of aggression and fear took over. Letting the Force guide him, the Master pushed the Governor lightly away with the Force, jumped in front of the podium, and deflected a blaster bolt coming out of nowhere with his saber back up to a window in a nearby building. In a moment, a body fell out of the window, carrying with him a long sniper rifle.
That did it. All chaos broke out as the crowds immediately beat down the guards. The people roared up to the podium, running to the Killians standing by the transport. Summoning most of his energy, Puurlaris closed his eyes and extended his hand. Suddenly, a bright orange wall erupted out of the ground, extending up past the top of the Capital Tower. The wall surrounded the podium, casting an eerie glow around the crowds. The people stopped, frightened by the pure Force energy. One brave protester stepped up and touched the wall with his fingers. He screamed as his fingers were burned off his hand.
Puurlaris was amazed he had the ability to make such a wall. It was a method not possible by many Jedi, and constructing such a powerful wall for such a long period of time was quite an achievement. However, he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he would be able to hold it up, and he was beginning to feel weak.
Marisha could apparently sense that her Master wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Yelling to the soldiers, she said, “Get the Killians inside! Get out of here, now!”
The soldiers hurried into the transport, the Killians hurrying close behind. The ramp closed, and in a few moments the transport was in the air. Suddenly, five fighters came out from behind a building. The fighters had pods with a cockpit inside, with two wings protruding from the top and bottom of the pod. The fighters lashed out at the transport in a flurry of laser fire. One of the engines exploded in a hail of debris, and the ship spun down to the surface directly into the Capital Tower. The ship was engulfed in flames, and sections of the transport and the building splashed against the Force wall. In a few moments, the wall finally collapsed.
Puurlaris also collapsed, exhausted, and breathed heavily. When he saw the waves of angry protesters approaching, he forced himself up and ignited his red lightsaber. “Get into the shuttle!” he yelled to his Apprentices.
Korush stayed where he was as Marisha calmly ran into the silver shuttle. “I’m staying, Master. I don’t want you to get killed.”
“Get out of here!” Puurlaris yelled in reply.
“You leave! I’ll hold them back! Marisha and Z’xarus need someone to train them. They don’t need me.”
The Ukarasi did not want to go, but he knew that his Apprentice was right. Puurlaris felt almost as if something was intimidating him. He felt as if something was pushing him or persuading him to do this. The decision didn’t seem natural, yet he acted on it all the same. With a tear in his eye, he nodded to Korush, and with the Force he said, The Force will be with you, my Apprentice.
Marisha turned to Korush before she ran up the ramp.
Thanks, Korush thought.
You’re welcome.
Puurlaris ran onto the ship, with Z’xarus close behind him. The shuttle began to rise, but just before the ramp closed Z’xarus stopped and leapt out of the shuttle. He landed on his feet, his saber already ignited. He ran over to Korush, who was standing against the Capital Tower building. The Governor had already had run into the building.
Korush frowned. “Z’xarus, what are you doing here?”
“You can’t fend them off by yourself. I had to help you.”
“Z’xarus, I’m going to die anyway by staying here. I realized that when I stayed here. Now you’re giving up your own life. Was that really necessary?”
“Was it necessary for you to stay down here?”
Korush ignored him. The first of the rioters stepped up, who were currently frightened off by the previous Force wall, and now the glowing lightsabers. They were beginning to put that aside and were becoming violent. One protestor ran up to Korush with a club, yelling wildly, but a blaster fired from the crowd deflected from his saber and into the man’s stomach. He topped over, and another wave of protestors followed after him. Where are the Republic soldiers? thought Korush. I thought there was supposed to be some here…
More blaster bolts came from the crowd, meaning some had brought along small pistols, but most wielded only small clubs and swords. The two Jedi deflected the bolts at the attackers, cutting down those who came too close. They had to find a way to stop these people from attacking, and cutting them all in two wasn’t the best solution. The attackers started becoming more violent and aggressive, and Korush was starting to get rather tired. He had to think of something fast, because he was sure he wouldn’t survive long. Z’xarus was getting almost too aggressive, screaming at the attackers and cutting them up with his saber angrily. He had to do something quickly, but his mind was blank.
An attacker swung a wrench at Korush, but his saber cut the wrench in two, hot shrapnel flying in the attackers face, burning his stalked eyes. A quick kick to the stomach sent him flying back. Looking up, he saw some Republic and Dagoban fighters flying overhead, and the Jedi shuttle was almost ready to leave the atmosphere. The fighters seemed to be heading to the north… Suddenly Korush saw a huge wave of almost forty of the pod fighters. They seemed to be heading after the shuttle.
He stopped looking up as another attacker dressed in black ran up. A quick slash with a saber sent the assailant’s arm flying in the air. Korush noticed that there weren’t too many people attacking he and Z’xarus. Looking over the crowd he saw the mobs of black and brighter colors fighting each other viscously. There was around thirty soldiers there attempting to knock out the rioters, but they were vastly outnumbered. Where the heck were the Republic reinforcements?
Looking up again he saw that the shuttle was nearing the atmosphere, but the enemy pods were closing on. Half of the squadron broke from the group to intercept the Republic and Dagoban fighters engaging the pod fighters. Suddenly the main group let loose five bright torpedoes at the shuttle. Korush felt Master Puurlaris have a sudden feeling of dread, and then give a sigh of resignation. The torpedoes made contact and the shuttle exploded into a beautiful fireball. Debris flew from the ship as the remains fell steadily down to the surface.
Korush stared in disbelief. He couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to survive and he was supposed to die. Now they would all die over a senseless and stupid dispute. They died over petty differences and protests.
And it wouldn’t be long until he died as well.
Beside him he felt Z’xarus swell up with rage. “Calm yourself, Z’xarus. Don’t get angry. It only leads to pain.”
The younger Apprentice ignored him. He stared up at the sky, and then looked down at the crowds again, cheering at the explosion. To Korush’s surprise, Z’xarus relaxed. He turned to Korush and said, “We’ve got to find a way to stop this. It’s really getting out of hand.”
Korush nodded. But what should he do? What could he do? The waves of attackers running up constantly to the podium kept him from thinking clearly. Something had to be done…
Suddenly a small field closed around the two Jedi, much resembling the field Puurlaris constructed a few moments ago. Korush looked to the younger Duros to see him with his red eyes closed and in deep concentration. Slowly he opened his eyes, but he still seemed to be under some strain.
“How did you do that?” Korush asked puzzled.
“I took a few lessons from Master Puurlaris. It should last a while. Now you try to figure something out.” He smiled weakly and closed his eyes again.
Now the rioters couldn’t harm him. Korush could now focus his attention on trying to stop the mob, or at least until the Republic soldiers came. Hey! Suddenly he thought up an idea. Stretching out, his eyes carried past the riots and past the city. His mind followed a large road passing through the swampy country. He floated past until he saw the troops.
They were in a pair of floating tanks slowly moving through the swamp. The originally glossy silver armor plating was now caked with mud, and the large warhead launcher protruding from the front of the tank was clogged with damp leaves. They were having trouble moving through all the dense foliage, and they seemed to be having engine problems. That would explain the delay. But how could he get them to get here faster.
He sighed and moved into the tank; inside the power conduits themselves. Stretching out farther than ever he pushed the engines. They glowed a bright orange as their power increased greatly. The tanks plowed through the swamp, flying past the trees at amazing speeds. He guided the pilots to navigate carefully through the foliage. Before long he saw the city from the tank portal.
He opened his eyes and his mind returned to his body, and he immediately collapsed to the ground. Soon afterwards the Force wall fell to the ground and Z’xarus sagged against the wall. The tanks roared into the courtyard and immediately Republic soldiers wearing gas masks stormed out of the rears of the tanks. Large pellets shot out of the launchers, and a gas spread through the crowd. The people began to moan as they became weaker. Rifles slammed against the backs of rioters as they fell to the ground.
The gas hadn’t reached the tower yet. Korush looked to his side and saw a rioter run up to Z’xarus beat in the chest with a thick club. With eyes half closed eyes he said quietly, “Goodbye, Korush.” The club slammed into the Duros face, and Korush heard the sickening crunch as Z’xarus’s nose bone sliced into his brain.
He looked in front of him to see a screaming Dagoban dressed in black with his rifle raised. The butt slammed against his head, and the bitter taste of blood filled his mouth. Suddenly he felt his neck snap, and then peace.
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It may be hard to read, but I'm too lazy to make it all neat.
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I'll have it up on the new site after Christmas, so keep in touch around that time. Until then, be sure to check out the forums in the site you can find on my sig.
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The Deridian War- Witness the struggle that tore the Old Republic apart.
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Self-righteous people are more sinful than I am.
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