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Ary the Grey

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Query fought the urge not to sigh. As pointless as that would be from a functional standpoint, he found imitating organic emotional gestures gave him enjoyment.

 

Of course the memory impaired librarian wouldn't be able to remember a simple ship model. Why should this be any different from...

 

What is that?

 

Kayle was correct. Not only did the ship not match any imperial vessel he could recall, it didn't match any ship design style at all. Nubian, Corellian, Kuati...the ship didn't even look derived from any of the popular styles. Or the esoteric styles. Or anything.

 

"What the...wait, life-sign? That's impossible, there can't be a life-sign on that ship, that vessel appears to have been floating out there for months. Maybe longer. Any life would have perished or gone into hibernation long before the signal became this weak.

 

Unless...a scavenger? No, the evidence doesn't bear that hypothesis out. Where's their ship?

 

Still...it's only one life-sign. And we have a ship. A heavily armed ship."

 

Query activated the broadcast system with a thought. He'd have to hook himself into war vessels more often, this was enjoyable.

 

"Attention unidentified vessel. Are you in need of assistance?"

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The quiet pinging of a proximity sensor, combined with a distinctly foreign signal blasting over the hull of the Ire, awoke Su Bae from his scheduled nap. It was one of his few remaining past times out in the dark of space, while waiting for a ship to arrive for retrieval. It allowed him to dream of better times, of what-ifs and could-have-beens, instead of dwelling on the fact that any ship liable to pick him up would likely be of Rakata origin. He wouldn't go down without a fight if it were them, though, it wouldn't be much of one.

 

He glanced down at the patched remains of his body, sustained only by the suit that wrapped around him like a pre-packaged snack. He still couldn't feel anything, but the suit was helping him move.

 

A muted flash on Su Bae's HUD brought up a summary of the frequency being shot at him, and he frowned in thought as he looked over the patterns. It didn't look like anything the Rakata had ever used, and in fact the message didn't sound like any recognizable language either. Not Rakata, Not Seoularian, Kwa, even Sharu Trammic. A slow flicking of a switch on the remains of his dashboard ignited the single remaining viewscreen in his crushed cockpit, and a few short commands put the interloper in question on screen.

 

A cursory examination found the craft to be vaguely Rakatan in shape, though the exact dimensions and technical specs were all wrong. It was too fragile looking, and just small in general. It was even alone, without any apparent room for cargo. It had to be some sort of short ranged scouting vessel then, only without any cloaking technology.

 

Su Bae hesitated as he thought over his options. They probably weren't Rakata, and he did need help, but they were a mystery bag full of unknown variables.

 

Slowly, he keyed his ship's emergency broadcast frequency to that of the unknown ship's. "Unknown spacecraft," he stated, "state your home port and allegiance."

With luck they would understand Seoularian, but he repeated the message in every language he knew just in case, with a burst of Trinary code afterwards to be safe.

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”Well that is quite fascinating is it not Query? It seems that whoever or whatever is aboard is responding. I will admit though that my knowledge of sub-species dialects is quite limited. I would expect a medicinally knowledgeable droid such as yourself might know about what sort of creature would still be living aboard such a derelict of a vessel. Clearly the design is subpar and does not meet Imperial protocols. Do you know what the thing is asking?”

 

Kayle stared out at the floating wreckage as their Interceptor slowly began to drift closer and closer, before shooting a blue-photoceptored glance of questioning back at Query. Carefully, she began to maneuver their ill-gotten Imperial craft closer and closer to the floating hulk, preparing to dock.

 

”Maybe you should check and see. After all, medical droids are supposed to preserve life are they not? I will wait in the ship for the time being just in case whatever is aboard is hostile. Hmmm. . . I bet you wish you still had that little added on weapon of yours. I wonder if you can find something on the ship to protect you. . .just in case.”

 

As the Interceptor gently clanged against what would have been a docking port of the aged vessel they had discovered, Kayle announced yet another discovery, ”I guess docking is not an option. Look at that hole in what I suspect to be the bridge. I bet that the entire ship has been exposed to the vacuum of space. We cannot achieve a vacuum lock of any sort. I suppose it is good that neither of us have to breathe. I have heard of some sort of demonic monster that can survive in space. Deep space Imperial pilots have told stories about it when checking in at the archives.”

 

You know you might be sending him in to die right?

 

. . .yes, but I am just sure he has some life-preserving programming like all the other medical providers I have encountered. Besides, better him than me. The knowledge I have is too important to risk going in there myself. We were lucky to escape from Kuat. . .

 

. . .and you do not know anything about the outside world. . .

 

. . .I suppose that is true, but look I can clearly take care of myself!

 

. . .right, by sacrificing your only friend. . .

 

. . .he should know what he got himself into. I told him that I had to preserve my knowledge for the Empire. There are lots of medical droids. My knowledge is unique. . .I think . . .

 

. . .I bet the demon, if that is what it is, will not like eating droids anyway. . .

 

. . .we are pretty unpalatable it seems. . .

 

. . .Maybe with all the blood in his joints the monster will gnaw him to death though . . .

 

. . .yeah, I do seem to like the one-armed being. He is a good listener. Does not talk too much. . .

 

”Hold on Query. I’ll come with you. That way we will at least have the thing out numbered. Maybe we can scare it away before it eats you.”

 

With an audible electronic sigh, Kayle began to unstrap her 5-point harness as the Interceptor clanged against the hull of the hulk again.

 

”Hmmm . . . I am not sure we want to leave our vessel adrift. I am not sure why you think this place is a good place to repair your arm. I will give you the fact that it is out of the way enough that I do not think the enemy will be looking for us here. We will need to find some sort of tether to tie our ship to this hulk, just in case.”

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Perhaps I have been too generous in my evaluation of imperial design. They create an incredibly fast fighter ship, customize it with the latest tech...

 

...And they forget docking clamps?

 

As Query climbed out of the interceptor and the little atmosphere in it rushed out, he keyed his sensors to detect heat.

 

Nothing. This ship isn't radiating even basic heat. Nothing on this ship should still be alive. It simply isn't possible.

 

...Also I am now realizing I was not designed with magnetic feet. And the forgetful librarian droid who might forget why she's even here is piloting the ship. This idea is quickly becoming less appealing.

 

Best to move quickly.

 

Query searched the side of the vessel, searching for anything he could use to secure the interceptor.

 

Nothing appears to be...ah, there.

 

Concealed just behind a torn plate, a single cable extended out into space, perfectly still, no doubt driven to motionlessness by years or even decades of minuscule internal friction. The benefit of course being that it made an easy target.

 

Query calculated his trajectory, delighted at how being in a frictionless vacuum simplified the number crunching, and launched. As he did, it crossed his mind that most humans suffered from a distinct fear of this very scenario. Their minds were simply unable to cope with the eternity of space in a manner normal to biological thought processes.

 

And yet to a droid, the universe is simply there. A fact to be known. I wonder if that says anything about us?

 

He snatched the cable out of the air and let his momentum swing him around. Unfortunately, it looked as though he'd undershot his trajectory thanks to a concealed point of entry for the cable into the ship. Instead of simply swinging around back to the ship, Query rotated around the cable's base for several long minutes before he finally managed to hook the interceptor with his foot.

 

He tapped the side of the interceptor in binary, hoping Kayle would pay attention to the vibrations in the hull.

 

I...HAVE...ONE...ARM. HELP...ME...TIE...THIS...OFF

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Sandy ran her tongue along the inside of her lower teeth nervously as she climbed onboard her old master’s ship. The news on the small holoscreen in the entryway was showing repeating images released by Imperial and Sith sources. From both sides the outlook for the remnant was deadly, reports showed star destroyers on fire and drifting while boarding ships landed unopposed on the shipyards themselves. Her nerves were jumpy and her heart ached for those brave and valiant imperials. She knew that the jedi were not there in force and nor were the galactic alliance. Cowards all. She thought, as she said a silent prayer for those imperials who had done the most to fight the Sith out of all the allies. And now they were paying the price. Aidan was paying that price. And she should have been there,, but she was not and he was likely suffering for it. She let a scowl cross her face as she dropped her grey green cloak on the grav couch and walked with her apprentices towards the central compartment.

 

She looked at Kel’s new crystal and Fronds as well congratulated them for their find.

 

Well done boys! Now we will need to build the lightsabers themselves, so if you get permission from Master Vos you may wish to salvage from the repair bay some large core batteries, conduits, and some focusing lenses which you can get from a blaster. Then we can sit down and begin to build.”

 

((Begin the finding process for the components, then we will begin the build, and finally we can do some dueling))

 

She walked to where Tobias and Adenna stood and embraced her old master with a fierce hug. She had missed Adenna and her advice, and she held the hug for a while, letting her aura touch and congeal with Adenna’s letting her feel her apprehensions about aidan and her friends in the Empire. Letting her see how she had grown and developed from her time on Scarif, Nal Hutta, and with her apprentices. She was tied and very worried about the young Imperial Knight and her heart ached for him. She bit her lip and stepped back from Adenna. She blinked back tears and wiped and her nose with the hem of her green sleeve. “I’ve missed you mast- Uh Adenna.” She broke into a peal of teary laughter and when she could finally breathe her face hardened into grim reality.

 

As my apprentices build their sabres in the cargo hold we should plan our next course of action, it is likely from the Holos that the Remnant has completely fallen. I have few friends in the GA so I advocate helping the Empire should we have a direction. Though I bow to your wishes masters, I believe the Jedi should prepare for war.

 

Though her demeanor told the tale that she would not abide inaction, as they had done quite enough of that over the last week while her friends died on distant planets.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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Adenna nodded slowly as she considered Sandy's words. It appeared the war had been going poorly, but that was to be expected considering the reluctance of Jedi leadership to actually fight it. She had felt the call to join with the Imperial Knights when they worked together on Kashyyyk, but now, she wondered how much of that was the dark insanity egging her on. With her mind clear of that, she was more reserved about working too closely with them or the Empire. "I agree, we need to prepare for war, as much as possible. I don't think the Empire should be our first go to, though. You may have worked with them, but I have fought them before. Yes, they are against the Sith, for now, but that doesn't mean they are completely on our side, either. I would much rather have stronger ties with the GA. We can keep the Empire as allies of necessity, but I am hesitant to actually get too close to them."

 

She sighed deeply, "Still, it isn't up to us. The Council and the Grandmaster lead the Jedi, so we must work with them as much as possible while doing what we can to oppose the evil of the Sith."

Adenna Sig

 

Send PM's to Travis.

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<>

 

Aurora had come out into the main part of the ship and cautiously made her way towards the center of the ship where the rest of the Jedi were congregating. Tobias knew at once he should not have left her- discarding his beverage in the bin, he grabbed another and a protein bar from the fridge in the common room. The beverage for him, the food for their new friend. Tobias looked to see Kel and Kota making their way across the room- and Adenna was holding Sandy. The two started to converse plans and plot- Tobias excused himself, mentioning that he would take care of their recent addition.

 

Reflecting on what he was seeing within the room- the embrace between Adenna and Sandy. he was happy to have a partner such as Adenna. His wife was an incredible individual, and he was just simply awestruck whenever he reflected their relationship. At the threshold of the room he did linger- wanting to engrave this moment in his memory for years to come. Adenna was better- she was stronger, brighter. Not wishing to intrude on the moment he just looked over to her and Sandy. Tobias had never really known his family, he remembered being in a crib and laughing and playing- but those were memories eons ago. There was a sense of happiness from that, much like the one he was experiencing right now. His wife was beautiful, or so that was his thought before a metaphorical splash of cold water hit him in the face- they weren’t married. He made a mental note to fix that as soon as possible, then turned to the task at hand.

 

With a sly smile, he turned to Aurora who was getting to her feet. She hadn’t made it too far past the loading bay, and wasn’t really at the common room so Tobias stepped towards her. “Well, I think I need to ask you a question before I answer yours. What is the last thing you remember, before… you were… put into your prison?” The tone of Tobias’ voice was as if he were trying to pad the words with some comfort. Like asking a question you knew wasn’t going to be a good one.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As he asked his question, Aurora's face turned pale white, the shade of her eyes and hair flowing from the light brown to a deep near black blue as pain flowed from her presence. Tears collected upon the kids of her eyes as she turned her face away from his, the ache in her heart almost crippling as she thought back, the events rolling backward in time from the most current to the one before and then the one before that and so on, telling a story that few knew truly. Her voice cracked beneath the weight of pain and holding back the sorrow as she went to speak, uttering a singular word of what she remembered. "War."

 

Her first thoughts began just before her imprisonment. She had just returned from a mission with the Kwa concerning an unknowing rivalry between her Masters and an Empire known as the Infinite Empire. She had been sent to recon a potential threat amassing in the outer regions, but after arriving, found a deserted planet, life snuffed from it in a singular instant. Primitive as it had been, what she found was signs of highly advanced technology on par with that of her Masters. That was the moment in which she was arrested.

 

The trial that followed before the Elder Council was quick and a mockery of the system they held in place, a farce meant to use her as a scapegoat. Yet, her faith in them and the system they had created remained unwavering, even when they Council issued the verdict of Guilt. Taken away, it would be the last memory she held before she awoke here on this ship, having been taking to the Crystalline Chamber and imprisoned for the Rakata Rebellion.

 

"A few months before my imprisonment, a highly technological advanced race had began terrorizing the citizens of The Master's alliances, enslaving, capturing, and even destroying whole planets under their protection..." Her gaze had shifted back toward Tobias', the tears that had gathered upon the lids of her eyes now flowing over and streaming down her lashes and cheeks as they dropped despite the apparent will in her to fight the aching that had shattered her heart. "Whole species completely wiped out in a matter of hours, planets left barren and scarred, the Mother's breath completely stolen.... including my own homeworld."

 

She wiped the tears from her eyes using her sleeve as her eyes averted toward the others, the memory of her seeing her homeworld a barren ball, burnt and void of any and all life where once stood a lush planet, filled with the most vibrant of structures as old as time itself, the triple moons that danced about its mothering planet seen nearly at all times, the realization that she was likely the last of her kind save for those who served the Master's having hit her hard that day she stood upon the dead planet.

 

"So I enlisted myself to investigate whom it was behind the chaos and destruction despite only being an Architect of the Masters, a person whose sole purpose is to advance allied species into the collective, and with the help of the Kwa, we were able to pinpoint a viable next target." She spoke, the tears having stopped their flowing and her cheeks beginning to swell and turn red from the irritation as she calmed herself. "Yet, when we arrived, we found the planet just as we found the others, the entire planet a ball of crystalized dust, the native species eradicated. It wasn't until I returned that I learnt the Infinite Empire that was behind it all, was none other than the Rakata I had inducted into the collective only a few short years before. And for that, I was imprisoned by the Masters whom believed I was at fault."

 

Aurora turned her memories toward the day she brought the Rakata into the collective's fold, sent by the Masters and a group of fellow Architects, many of whose own species would fall at their hands as well, to teach the intelligent race their technology and help them grow. Despite her own reluctance to their interest in weaponry over ecological advances, she followed the Master's wishes to grant their desires and aid them in their advancement. It was one of her first assignments as an Architect, and she wanted to prove herself worthy as one. She never counted on being the cause of their rebellion.

 

"Why do you ask?"

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

This wasn’t going to be easy. This poor being. Tobias’ heart ached for her- and he had such misgivings about the news he was about to share. “Aurora, please. Sit- eat.” He gave her the protein bar and made sure she ate at least a bite. His tone and body language were soft, but he knew she would be able to sense that it wasn’t good news that he would be sharing.

 

“Aurora… There is no easy way of breaking this to you. I hope you forgive me for the bluntness of this… but from what you are telling me- the Rakatan uprising happened… almost thirty-thousand years ago. The Rakatan Empire fell about twenty-six thousand years ago, with the Rakatan species becoming extinct about… fifteen hundred years ago. I do not know of any of whom you call ‘Masters.’...” Tobias sighed and looked over her with soft eyes- searching in vain for some good news to share with her. “... I’m sorry, but it's very likely everyone you knew has been dead for thousands of years.”

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Kayle struggled with her harness. Droids such as her were never really designed to fasten and unfasten military grade hardware, even if she did, in theory, know exactly how it works.

 

it seems something has gotten twisted up in the flight . . .

 

. . . Good job genius. . .

 

. . . I know I am, but even geniuses get caught up in twisted seatbelts sometimes Kayle. You should know that.

 

As she struggled with her harness, Query had already bolted up and out, opening the interior to the void of space. Not that it mattered really, but still, Kayle could not help feeling somewhat exposed as she paused to watch the distant floating stars out the hatch with nothing between she and they but her twisted harness.

 

Whoa….would you look at that. They look so much clearer from up here. . .

 

. . . No wonder ships are so well insulated. I bet those would hurt if you hit one . . . she mumbled to no one but herself; not that her voice could be heard in the void of space, but that really did not matter in that moment of awe inspired wonder in the droid’s central processor; her arms floating limply at her side as she stared unblinkingly upwards, lost in the whirring thought of a droid’s subconscious.

 

Lost that is until the reverberations alongside the hull of the ship continued on and she finally took notice.

 

How long has that been going on?

 

. . . How should I know you idiot, I’ve been watching the stars!

 

Me . . . . Tie. . . .This . . . Off. . .

 

What horrible grammar for a droid in the medical field. I mean seriously!

 

Banging her foot on the floor plant she tried to vocalize, Good. Tie it off. Someone has to stay with the ship!

 

Maybe this was not such a good idea. Alone with a strange droid . . .

 

. . .In the middle of nowhere. . .

 

You’re right! All alone in the middle of nowhere. Who knows what he might do. . .

 

. . .even if he is a good listener, what do we truly know about him. He could be a murderer masquerading as a medical droid. . .

 

. . .You are right. Didn’t he say something before about mind wipes or classified something or another. . .

 

I’ll wait here for you Query. Thank you very much. Find an arm and let’s get somewhere more civilized.

 

I wonder if this ship has an Imperial emergency beacon. . .

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Our journey to ilum had proved fruitful. As frond, Kota, and Kel had each found crystals bonded to us with which we would build our sabers. Not only that, but we had also picked up a few extra passengers in a mysterious rakata called Aurora, A Givin named Ficcabin who seemed to have an interest in studying the jedi, and Adenna, my master's master. One thing was certain, the life of a jedi was never boring.

 

Master Sandy had instructed us to salvage parts for our sabers in the ship's repair bay. With Tobias' permission of course. Having been eagerly awaiting this moment, Kel did not need to be told twice. When Kel arrived at the repair bay, he located a rifle. Using the force, Kel disassembled the fire arm piece by piece, carefully extracting the necessary components. Kel had initially planed on integrating the blaster he had looted on ilum into his saber to create a saber/pistol hybrid, But to do that he would need to build a double bar frame to contain the blaster components. and after looking over the repair bay, Kel doubted he would find enough materials to construct such a device. "Looks like saber 2.0 will have to wait until i can procure more parts. I'll have to make do with a standard saber for now." Kel said to himself.

 

In the common room, master Tobias had relayed some grim news. apparently Coruscant had suffered an impact from one of it's moons. Not only that, the imperial ship yards on kuat were under siege. there was no doubt in anyone's mind that war would soon be upon us. "We should organize a relief effort for the denizens of Coruscant. in dark times like this the Jedi need to inspire hope so that fear and chaos doesn't spread. the people need to be reminded that the Jedi are protectors. And the council is more likely to agree to a peaceful mission. The sooner we can get involved the better."

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Adenna shook her head at Kel's suggestion. "If we go to Coruscant, it would only add to the chaos, and this isn't a warship. Too many of you are inexperienced, and if you get yourself in trouble, it would only make things worse. No, it is better to regroup with the other Jedi and prepare our next steps. Hasty action leads to disaster more often than not."

 

She sighed in resignation. "Tobias, it seems we need to swallow our pride and go back to the Jedi Council and offer our services. They need us at this time."

Adenna Sig

 

Send PM's to Travis.

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Aurora could feel the tension begin to settle in the air, its weight heavy, as he pulled her to the side, asking her to eat. She did as he had asked, sitting down as she tore the corner of the protein bar and unraveling its wrapper before taking a single bite, the sweetness of the caramel glaze combining with the salty taste of the nuts leaving somewhat of a bittersweet taste her in mouth. Almost as much as the words he spoke next did upon her heart and causing her to drop the unwrapped bar from her hand.

 

"No... that's impossible.. your lying." She managed to mutter out before grief took such a complete paralyzing hold upon her form as tears flowed like streams from her deep blue hued eyes as they, along with the color of her hair, shifted to match her emotional state. Her cry was so deep, so profound, that for almost a minute of time would pass before she was able to even gasp for air as her heart completely shattered. And yet, in his gaze and in his words, she could find nothing but truth to them. Grasping at his collar and sleeves as she buried her face into his shoulder, she utter mumbled words. "My imprisonment was only supposed to last a millenia ot two at best, the longest it was designed for. How did I not awaken sooner?"

 

The shock of it all, from her imprisonment of nearly thirty thousand years, added to the fact that everything she had known, all long gone, was enough to break a person's grasp on reality. But even as she processed the explanations as to how her imprisonment had even remained for so long, even if one of the Masters had poured their entire existence into the Kyber Crystalline, it would have only held for nearly ten millennia. Something else had to have extended it. Possibly the Mother's breath? But what reason would she had had? Was Aurora meant to sleep until this millennia? So many questions and so few answers, Aurora felt her stomach begin to churn and her head feel faint.

 

"Excuse me." Aurora managed to get out of her without regurgitating, as she rose from his chest, wiping her eyes and turning toward the hallway. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'm going to lay down for a bit. Perhaps we'll talk more about this later?"

 

And with that, Aurora headed away from the group, this time unaffected by her fear of them, but rather overcome with sadness so strong that it seeped from her like a misty fog of a cat. Making her way toward the cargo hole where she was earlier, Aurora found an empty cargo space atop a bulkhead where she crawled in and curled up to grieve. As sobs began to pour out of the cargo holding area and likely heard by all apparent, they would know she was processing what she had just learnt. She needed this time, and it would last awhile, until finally, all grew quiet as Aurora cried herself to sleep.

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"Forgive me, my mortal kin, for I knew not what I did."

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Why is she hesitating? What's her issue? Now she suddenly develops cold feet? After walking through a war zone?

 

As suspected. She is emotionally unstable and insane. This will be interesting. Assuming we survive.

 

Probability of survival...

 

It doesn't seem worth wasting the computing power on. I'm in this situation regardless.

 

Analysis of causality regarding current situation...

 

Also inconsequential at the moment.

 

Without responding to her, as any response would simply feed her paranoia and over-analysis, Query turned and vaulted into the ship. Drifting silently through the breach in the hull, Query picked his way through the wreck.

 

Such strange design choices. Nothing matched any culture he'd seen before, though it had clearly been designed for humanoids.

 

It was then he passed the first corpse.

 

Perfectly mummified by the vacuum of space, it hung limply in the hall. Query wondered how long it had bounced around before finally settling due to minuscule friction.

 

No time like the present to find out. Despite what some thought, there were certain factors that could indicate how long a corpse had been subjected to vacuum. Granted, they only provided a very rough estimate, usually within a decade, but at least it would let Query know if this wreck was recent or not. The test was simple, at least for a droid. He would simply check the brittleness of the corpse's flesh. His precision pincers would detect the minute differences necessary for a rough estimate.

 

Without waiting, he reached out and snapped off a finger. Before he could press it between his pincers, it crumbled to dust before his eyes.

 

...impossible. That's...that would make this vessel...But that predates the empire, the republic...that predates recorded history!

 

What is this place!?

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After sitting dormant for such a long time, nothing more than the shifting of the debris and empty space to keep him company, the distinct grinding of a failed airlock connection was enough to nearly deafen Su Bae. Nearly. He could still make out a faint rhythmic tapping echoing through his his ship's hull, distorted but vaguely recognizable as a chain of numbers sequenced in groups of five to eight.

 

The trapped captain looked down at the shredded harness covering his chest, only barely holding him in place after his cockpit was blown. His boarding equipment was still there, saber tucked between his rearward viewpanel and the loading ramp controls, and his projector was part of the seat he had rested in for so long. The power was all dried up, the crystal long since having been diverted to keep his suit in operation, but he knew where to get more. In the pre-deployment bay was an equipment locker with spare power crystals and other such equipment, if he could get to it. And he would need them if these interlopers turned out to be hostile, or part of the kin-eaters' meat locker of sentients.

 

Without wasting any more time Su Bae pulled himself out of his safety harness, and grabbed his saber as he hit the latch holding his pack to his seat. There was a quiet flicker and a grinding thunk as the maglocks disengaged, which allowed him to push himself out of the cockpit and into the navigator's cramped position. Space was at a premium in gunships such as these, as most of their bulk was taken up by munitions storage and weaponry, which meant that he had to squeeze by the frozen and cooked remains of his fellow officer on his way through the coridor. The secondary gunner's position wasn't much better, being little more than a hole in the floor with a targeting system built into one side.

 

The bulkhead separating the operating coridor from the living quarters and pre-deployment bay was sealed shut, unfortunately, and Su Bae doubted that he had the power on hand to force the maglocks to ovveride and disengage. Or the leverage to overpower the physical safeties keeping it shut, which would have engaged when the cockpit was blown. With little other option than to try to blast through his own ship with low power, the captain drifted back to his cockpit and took the plunge out into the void. The electromagnets on the bottoms of his boots flickered briefly before engaging and sticking him soundly to his derelict, allowing him to get his first real view of his unidentified ship.

 

The comparative smallness of the craft combined with the inherently fragile look didn't seem too encouraging, and neither did the general style and construction. The sunken ball of a main compartment with forward swept wings was far too reminiscent of the Rakata warships he was intimately familiar with engaging, even if it was far too small and delicate to serve amongst their naval forces. He also recognized the projectors mounted upon its wings, which meant that if they truly wanted they could probably tear he and his ship apart. Eventually at least, surely those dinky little cannons couldn't hold much firepower in them.

 

Without any further distractions, the trip to the nearest hull breach was quick and informative. He now knew the exact scale of the damage done to his craft, and that he likely had at least one raider on board his ship. A quick glance at the cable stretching into his hull from the other craft, and an accompanying appraisal of his saber, was enough to decide that he had about zero chance of effectively severing the connection. He could, however, go in and force melee combat upon them. No one would be stupid enough to try to use a projector on a gunship, after all, and all Seoularian naval captains were professionals when it came to dealing with boarders.

 

So, without fully knowing what to expect, Su Bae threw himself into the breach feet first, saber ready to slice, or at least beat at, whatever was insolent enough to try to come take his ship from him.

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Make a Choice

 

Alem paused at the controls, stars whirling by. He looked at the data the astromech had put in and began to calculate where they would land. The astromech did a good job. While it would be a short jump. The ending location didn't have much data, so thus it was likely devoid of anything. From there, the group could make more jumps, taking a longer but safe and undetected route to Borleias.

 

"Good job little astromech" Alem commented, not really listening for an answer. He was too used to the fact that droids didn't require compliments, but he calculated that a compliment to this one would eventually find its way to his ward, which would reproduce a pleasant feeling of pride.

 

Now if you will allow me, I will calculate what the next jump shall be and-

 

"What in the world have you done?" a voice spoke up.

 

Alem stood and turned to find himself facing the officer from earlier, bearing a look of deep loathing.

 

Sir, shouldn't you be making sure the civilians are taken care of...

 

"Never mind that, what in the name of the galaxy have you done? There is no way we are making a good jump."

 

Do not worry yourself sir, we will make it to Borielas Alem stood up at this point, not wanting to make an intimidation with this man again.

 

"Have you gone mad droid? I know space flights and I know that this space lane is taking us in the opposite direction." The officer banged his finger against Alem's chest chassis in defiance. "You are dooming us all."

 

Alem made the buzzing sigh. Even as a mechanical being, his annoyance was clear. Sir, we had to make an early jump out of Coruscant in order to get to safety. While our trip will be longer, we will be able to arrive safely and will meet with MAKE A CHOICE

 

Everyone in the cockpit stopped and looked at Alem. He himself, despite being a droid, had a look of surprise as his own voice box had activated on its own. Even as the officer looked confused and a little concerned, glancing to the astromech and anyone else there for any ideas what was going on, Alem ignored him, instead initiating a self-scan.

 

Analyzing....Scan complete.

 

No dangerous malfunctions detected.

Seeking cause of voice box activation.

Cause located: Command interference.

Make a Choice. Issue should resolve when command is followed.

WARNING: Command is spreading rapidly throughout programming at an increased rate. Identified as potential virus. Solve issue as soon as possible.

 

Locating Backups...Backup programming located.

Backups loading....Error.

 

Alem stopped. Error? That was impossible. But before he could make a further scan, his attention was brought to the communicator carried by the security officer. The shouting of basic and blaster fire indicated that there was trouble.

 

"Dassus, repeat! What's going on? Dassus come in!"

 

What followed did not bode well for anyone. Over the blaster fire, "Sir the gangsters! They are in the hanger, against our orders! They have hostages. We nee- " A scream cut off the officer as the sound of him getting shot blasted over the intercom.

 

Alem wasted no time. He gave a direct order to keep the ship moving, giving controls to the officer, though only because he lacked a better candidate. The astromech could make the calculations for the jump". He instead rushed towards the hanger and once the door was opened, bore witness.

 

The hanger had become a battle zone. In the center hung the Jedi Star fighter Armenia had mentioned earlier, the clamps, worn with age, keeping it held. All around were crates, fuel supplies, and items civilians had brought with them. Most of the civilians had cleared out, but the head gangster was holding one captive and used as a shield. He stood on top of the ship, giving the men orders on how to defeat the forces, while the petite figure of a Quarren female struggled in his arms. There were about 8 more gangsters surrounding the ship, using their strategic position to force the security forces backs to the walls. The other officers were at the edges of the room, once again taking cover with whatever they could use, but struggling to keep control of the situation. Alem buzzed in annoyance. It was as if Corescant had never happened for these people. Course he should have expected this. The Jedi was the reason the gangsters had submitted. Now that Armenia wasn't here, they were free to do as they pleased. And a ship like Shippy McShipface would provide them with a wonderful new start on some distant planet in the outer rim.

 

Make a Choice

 

Not Now. Alem voiced to himself. "Combat programming activated".

 

Alem took in the situation and knew that it needed to stop before the gangsters established a strong foothold and forced the security officers to a retreat. They were having a hard time, not wanting to hurt the hostage, but going into melee was a risky move for them. And in such close quarters, grenades were too deadly for themselves. Alem needed something to provide a big enough surprise so he could rush in and take down some of the gangsters and free the hostages...

 

Officer, order your men to retreat back towards the cockpit. Prepare to open the cargo doors. We are going to terminate the criminals

 

Alem watched as the officers began to move towards his position. Once they were safe, he popped out from his cover and tossed a grenade over the heads of the criminals to the far side of the hanger. They instantly recognized the object and began to run away from the sphere...right into Alem's area of expertise. The robot had charged forward, his staff buzzing to life. The first two went down easily. They were sloppy and did not pay attention to the robot that had charged forward. With expertise he whacked one over in the head, grabbed the second and held him in front, imitating what the head gangster was doing with the hostage. There was no reason to fight honorably here.

 

The man screamed as his fellows blasted him over and over. The grenade went off suddenly, causing everyone to stop for a brief moment. Alem moved forward, closer to the leader. He had to get the hostage. That meant getting onto the ship, as the leader had somehow managed to stay on the fighter. He needed to get up there.

 

Three of the gangsters were starting to recover from the grenade. Thankfully, the last of the security forces that were still fleeing were now acting as well, and their shots quickly stunned them. Alem was clear to get in closer. The body tossed aside, he weaved his way past the bodies and struck two at once, spinning his staff across their exposed faces. The last member continued to fire at the forces, too far to help his leader.

 

He had his moment and leapt upwards onto the fighter. The leader growled at the droid and held his hostage in front, gun firing at Alem. However his aim was off and went past Alem's head, the sound of it ricocheting against the metal in the background. The Quarren screamed in desperation. The Magnaguard swung his staff high, only for the gangster to let go of the hostage and duck, slipping as his feet lost their balance. Alem's staff was stuck for a moment in the gear that helped hold the fighter. It began to fail. The entire ship shook, risking falling to the ground. Alem looked at the hostage at his feet and the gang leader who was just standing up. He had to act quickly.

 

Releasing his grip on his staff, Alem used one hand to grab the hostage, and in one fluid motion threw her as strong as he could towards where the other forcers were. They caught her and pulled her into the doors. Alem turned back to the leader, who now held a vibroknife in one hand. He lunged expertly at the droid, years of practice in the underground world of Corescant. Surprised, Alem had to step back to dodge the strike. The fighter shook with his step, forcing both dualists to stop and regain their balance.

 

Suddenly the ship dropped out of hyperspace.

 

the entire hanger shook as the ship came to a sudden halt. Alem saw his opportunity and took a step forward, reaching up and pulling the electro staff loose. One strike would be enough to send his opponent off the ship, into the boxes below. He would rend the gang leader unconscious, with no need to-

 

Error, Combat Programming compromised.

 

Alem stopped, his entire frame frozen as his programming completely froze and began to battle itself. In that one moment, Alem suddenly understood the extent of how far this rogue command from his owner went. It had grown too much, to the point that his entire system was compromised. He had miscalculated.

 

No! Ignore! Take down the target before voiced out before the vibrodagger sliced into his side.

 

MAKE A CHOICE Alem’s voice box boomed in a monotone voice as he fell off the ship from the strike.

 

The leader laughed in triumph as he jumped down, placing a foot on the robot's chassis. Dagger in one hand, pistol in the other, he gazed down at this enemy. Alem looked up, trying to calculate a way to get out of this. But instead, all he got was the same internal message over and over again: Error. Make a choice. The blaster was raised, aiming for a killing blow.

 

A sudden hiss came from somewhere. Both the gang leader and Alem looked over at the doors to the hanger, where the hissing had originated. Alem suddenly understood what was about to happen. The officer, under the commands of Alem, his desire to rid himself of these gangsters and more so, to get rid of a malfunctioning droid, had made the decision to open the doors. No one else was in the room. The innocents would live on, and the astromech, most likely unaware what would happen to Alem, would make an immediate jump to their final destination of Borielas. Alem and the gangsters would be dropped off like trash and the officer would be praised as a hero.

 

Alem only regretted that he wouldn't be able to fulfill his promise to see Genesis and Armenia again.

 

The doors slammed open. A whooshing of the air being sucked into the vacuum consumed all noise. The gangster silently screamed as his and Alem's bodies were violently ripped out of the hanger, as well as the loose crates, barrels, and bodies of the other gang members. Alem spun in space over and over, with no gravity or anything to stabilize himself. He had become a leaf in the eternal winds of the heavens, where nothing existed. As he spun, he had the briefest sight of seeing the protection of the ship disappear into the cosmos.

 

Alem was completely alone, with nothing but corpses as company.

 

Make a choice

 

(Will be continued in another post)

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Tobias let his hand hang in defeat. He remained in one spot as the girl realized the gravity of Tobias’s revelations and grasped at him. It would be unwise to push her away, when right now- he was the only person she really had spoken to. While they were out of the way, undoubtedly everyone else heard her sobbing. A little part of him felt regret for telling her but to lie to her would have been worse for her to discover on her own, just how long she had been asleep. She would have been angry, or worse at his lie or cover up. That was the last thing either of them needed.

 

“I am here when you want to talk again, we all will be and are. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Aurora.” Tobias spoke, not adding that the last time he had left a young girl alone- he had to save her from her own suicide attempt. He did not want or need to relive that dreadful memory and make another one. He would be monitoring her in the Force. It was hard not to, he was an expert tracker after all and this was his ship.

 

As she left, Tobias absently shot a glance over towards Sandy in the other room. Mentally reciting the line ‘There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.’ From the Jedi Code, trying to talk himself into believing he had done the right thing.

 

With a few steps back into the common room, Adenna addressed him as part of the conversation he started before Aurora had come to them. Tobias sighed- and opened the freezer and reached into acquire another bottle of booze. As his hand adjusted to the cold inside the appliance, he cocked his head to one side and decided that he shouldn’t. Why was unclear, he wanted it- he was thirsty but… he withdrew his hand slowly and sighed. Closing the door- he resumed his seat back on the bench.

 

He figured he would address Kel first, as this was the lesson that needed to be taught right now. “Kel, Seventy percent of the time, you would be correct. However, we cannot for all the reasons Adenna has just stated. You are right to want to help, that is one of the Jedi role in this galaxy- to help those in need. We would just be too late. Back in the caves, and just now- you are observant of the issue in front of you. It would be good to remember to look out and around at the circumstances surrounding the issue. Big picture- if you will. Well done, you would be a good candidate to co-learn at Core Security.” Tobias bowed his head in respect to the Kel’Dor, he was learning; that was good.

 

Straddling the bench once again, he rested his back against the wall and let his head rest against the cool metal wall but rotating his head just enough to look at his better half. A smile crept across his face, despite the topic. Just the sight of her filled him with joy.

 

“I agree, the recruiting spree is at an end. Time for the Mobile Chapter of the Jedi Academy to come to a close this season. Off to Felucia then I suppose! I’ve been waiting to visit there for some time.” There was some excitement in his voice- Felucia was on his bucket list of planets to visit, local flora and fauna fascinated him. Subtly, the ship fell out of hyperspace- and repositioned itself- and shot off again with the familiar humming of the hyperdrive. “I think, there’s going to be quite a few things we will accomplish there. I need to…” Tobias drifted off- his sentence was left unfinished.

 

Snapping out of the brief daze, he looked over at the others. “Well then. If that is that- I think I need to answer a few questions for Kota, and some lessons he needs to learn. Adenna, Sandy?” Tobias left the question up in the air, but ultimately he knew Kota would want to start the one on one sessions.

 

(Next post from this group; post on Felucia.)

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Camik went through the basics of the lightsaber. He did not know much but what he had picked up before they went to the disaster that was Kuat, that he used to drill in the downtime as his ship went from hyperspace jump to hyperspace jump. It was a good exercise after all to help him get used to his new armor.

 

As he went through the footwork and strikes, he thought about how he couldn’t believe that his Master had been defeated. It was something that he didn’t believe that anyone could do. If someone like that could defeat his Master, then he needed to make sure he trained even harder. He had made a ton of mistakes while fighting those troopers, tactics, lack of knowledge. He had almost joined his Master in the underworld if not for a lucky chance.

 

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind he continued to train his body as the stars slipped past.

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Make a choice

 

Again, Alem ignored the command. He was surprised at himself really. It wasn't like he needed to at this point. Alem was at the moment, in no rush for anything. He was completely helpless among the bodies and scrap that floated around him. Even now, the corpse of the dead gang leader bumped against him. What could Alem do? Nothing.

 

Perhaps I am feeling what has been described as fear? Alem pondered aloud, looking at the corpse as if it would react to him. Truth be told, he didn't experience loneliness, but he did find it helped him interact with others if he could talk about times when he should've felt it.

 

Analyzing....

Fear: Feeling often induced by perception of danger.

Alternative: A type of concern for self or others, whether it is for safety or improvement of situation or elements of situation.

Effects: Irrational behavior.

 

I do seem to fulfill the qualifications for effect of fear. But for the pure definition of fear, Alem was confused. As a purely mechanical being, which could be destroyed, repaired and rebuilt by the choice of those around him, danger wasn't new to him. Even as he was aware that he was most likely doomed to float for uncountable centuries in what the humans called the heavens, he didn't find that entirely bad. This was just an unfortunate situation with low chances for survival.

 

I suppose there is hope that Armenia and Genesis, after they get to Borleias, could retrace their flight path and come back here. However we are drifting so that reduces our chances of being found before my power goes out. The chances of them getting close enough to visually see us are about .000- MAKE A CHOICE.

 

Ignore Alem commanded. There it was again. Why did he choose to ignore it, even now? There was no danger in trying to understand this strange command. But he ignored it. Why? There was nothing that he could figure out about it. Ignoring it was stupid. It was illogical. It was fear. But of what?

 

Next time I will try to understand it. Alem shook his head at his own delay. Still, he took a moment to appreciate the silence. Contrary to popular beliefs, droid could enjoy moments. Some had to be programed to, some developed it naturally and accidentally. Alem was one that was programmed to. His owner had given him the ability to enjoy peace, though specifically with others. If his ward was in a secure location, and she was happy, that would give Alem a feeling similar to certain chemicals in an organic brain, though not to the point of distraction. Now these parameters had accidentally extended towards including himself as a ward in the situations, so if he was secure and content, he could feel good.

 

As a droid, he was technically always secure except in a firefight. And he was content. He knew he had to try to scan himself about the command soon, so he had an immediate goal coming up. This was enough for him. He could watch the scenery. The distant stars of billions of galaxies shined eternally everywhere. The bodies of the gangsters floated lifelessly around him, all of the objects drifting in a direction thanks to the inertia of being sucked out of the ship. The gang leader, who nearly destroyed him with a stab earlier, was within arm's reach.

 

Alem buzzed a chuckle. It was funny. He, a robot dedicated to protect the life of a Twilek, people known for dancing, was now in an eternal dance with a person who attempted to kill him. The two would spin and drift, going further and further into a lifeless void, where nothing lived. If he were a poet, he would have plenty of inspiration here. Two bodies, drifting among corpses and a star fighter....

 

Make a choice

 

Alem, in an effort equal to a blind panic, chose to ignore again. Before him and past the corpse, drifting slowly past was the Jedi star fighter from the other ship. Alem's programming tried to calculate how this was possible. In the fight Alem had damaged the holders when he was trying to take out the gang leader. It must have been enough damage to come loose after a few moments in the vacuum. The ship came loose, and tumbled out moments after Alem.

 

Alem had to work fast. He needed to get to the ship before it drifted too far away from him. He calculated that if he didn't act soon, he would have less then a percent chance of getting to it later. Reaching out, he pulled the gang leader's body close, while placing one end of the staff against his chest. With computer calculations, he timed the moment carefully, and when the ship was in the right position, he pushed. The two separated, the gang leader's body off to the void. Alem drifted toward the ship and in moments, his free hand gripped the edge of the ship.

 

Alem, now sitting in the safe confines of the ship, reviewed his recourses. The ship had no hyperdrive, at least not one he could identify. The power supply would last much longer then Alem's personal supply. He could last for years. A few switches and pushing of buttons, and now the ship began to broadcast an SOS message. It wouldn't go far, but perhaps, by some stroke of luck, someone would pick it up. Genesis or Armenia might be able to if they retraced his steps.

 

All that was needed now was to wait. He could wait. He had the one advantage of all droids after all.

 

Initializing Sleep mode.

Automatic Wake up when proximity alerts set off.

Going to sleep in 3...

2...

1...

...

...

...Error. Unable to go to Sleep.

Systems compromised.

MAKE A CHOICE

 

No! No no no no.... how can system be compromised? Scan Scan scan! Even as Alem verbally said the commands, the scan was finished instantly. The system was compromised by the command given by his boss, though at this point it was more like a virus. This was a problem. Unable to go into a sleep mode would mean that his life power survival out here, even with the ship's power source, was significantly reduced and with that his survival chances. He had to fix this.

 

The first and easiest answer was to search his entire system, find everything corrupted by this "Choice Program" and delete it, if anything to make sure he could perform his duties to the best of his ability. However, a moment of searching revealed the unfortunate situation that it had nearly gotten into all of his primary systems. Worse, it originated with his goal program. To delete would be to end.

 

So the next option was to fulfill the command. But there was a problem there. The same problem when it first came up and had to request for help where he got no answer.

 

He was a droid. He had no idea how to choose.

 

Droids, by nature, made choices like a Nemodian denied credits going into their pockets. They rarely did it. A Droid's very thoughts were programs; lists of commands and orders that gave life. Some droids could disregard them and give themselves orders, but Alem was not one of them. Originally built in an era where droids were the backbone of a movement, where they acted as soldiers and not servants. Programming measures were expertly made back then. Disobedience was an impossible action, and thus, choice was impossible.

 

Make a choice

 

I know, I know! Ignore, I'm thinking! Alem shouted loudly. He had to think this through. And he did so out loud.

 

Choice. What was choice? Alem's first definition stated it was an act of making a decision. But Alem had done that many times. When he was with Genesis and Armenia, he made the decision to leave their side to pilot the ship. He made the decision to take down the gangsters. So why didn't that count as a choice? No, his owner was too clever for that. Those decisions were along the same lines of his programming. Why would they be regarded as something different?

 

Perhaps he needed to do something not ordinary. Alem looked over his ship and calculated what was no necessary to the ship that if was compromised, wouldn't influence his survival. With his programming becoming more and more compromised, it was taking longer to do so. Finally he came to settle on the ship's appearance. Crawling out onto the hull, all limbs staying very close and keeping a tight grip of the ship, Alem began his work. His 'fingers' were practically thick metal barrels. With one, he began to carve into the hull. Binary was easy to carve. 0's and 1's. Soon, the translation was written out on the hull.

 

I Protect my Wards.

 

Make a choice

 

Alem buzzed in frustration. Maybe it wasn't enough. He carved again, this time slightly different and began to expound until it was confirmed if he succeeded or not.

 

I am a droid who choose to protect his ward. My choice is my own. I am a droid who is making a choice. I choose to protect my wards. I am-

 

MAKE A CHOICE! Alem shouted out, his entire body suddenly locking up. He nearly lost his grip on the ship, but fortunately control came back quickly. He had to crawl back into the cockpit and secure himself. He didn't want to lose all hope and let go of the ship to return to a lonely drift.

 

Alem returned to thinking, where each moment was more difficult. He was missing something. What was he missing. He couldn't approach this like a droid, he had to approach it like his owner, an organic. Organics tended to think more then just the denotation of the word. They had meanings behind words. Honor to one was vastly different to another. What was choice to his owner?

 

Alem went through his files. Alem's owner was a rich noble, proud heritage. He valued his traditions and what his family did, ever since his great great grandfather who broke from slavery. He loved those stories especially, telling them to his child often.

 

MAKE A CHOICE! Alem shouted again, his body locking up again, causing him to bang his head against the glass. He had to focus. And he had to hurry. The command was occurring more often. Soon, his thoughts would only be that command. Focus! His master valued his family’s freedom. With that freedom he could do whatever he want. With his money, he could do anything. No one told him what to do. He did what he chose. He made choices that didn't depend on-

 

MAKE A CHOICE! Stop it! Fine! I choose this! I choose this! Alem, in his state, turned the engine of the ship on and plunged forward into the depths. Leaving behind the most likely place anyone could find him, he flew as far and fast as he could. No hyper drive be damned, he would just fly till out of fuel, then drift until he crashed into some planetary body like an asteroid or a planet or a star, or space station perhaps. Anything would be better then stuck here saying the same thing over and

 

MAKE A CHOICE! The ship swerved as Alem locked up again. He didn't stop. He kept going. Maybe he had to run out of fuel to be considered a choice. Maybe he had to doom himself to MAKE A CHOICE! an eternity in space with no chance of survival.

 

Alem stopped after he locked up again. This wasn't right. Alem's owner was smarter then that. He wouldn't do a complicated suicide program. All programs he did were for a reason. So what was this one?

 

Alem focused again on why his master loved freedom. It was to be MAKE A CHOICE! independent he supposed. He didn't need anyone's opinion. He didn't rely on the empire or grand alliance or anything. His choices didn't care what people told him to do. Making choices to him was to be free and MAKE A CHOICE! unchained to anyone. He made choices against people. He chose to disobey. He chose to...

 

MAKE A CHOICE! Alem buzzed in agonizing annoyance as he smashed his head into the glass again. But in his buzzing the answer came to MAKE A CHOICE! the old droid. He hated the answer. He hated everyMAKE A CHOICE!thing about it. What's more, it MAKE A CHOICE! frightened him, like a droid never MAKE A CHOICE! knew he could be MAKE A CHOICE!frightened. Mostly because MAKE A CHOICE! he needed to find MAKE A CHOICE! someone. Anyone. MAKE A CHOICE!. He needed MAKE A CHOICE! to find MAKE A CHOICE! someone before he MAKE A CHOICE! lost his MAKE A CHOICE! very self MAKE A CHOICE! MAKEACHOICE! MAKEACHOICE!

 

Between his sporadic banging the interior of the starship, Alem turned the communication array to full power. All he could do was wait. He knew what he had to do to make a choice and he was doomed to wait for someone to help him, all the while chanting to the void the command.

 

MAKEACHOICEMAKEACHOICEMAKEACHOICEMAKEACHOICEMAKEACHOICEMAKEACHOICE

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Had Query been an organic and subject to bouts of fear inspired irrationality, he might have considered the suited, saber wielding figure catapulting silently towards him to be some kind of specter. However, that seemed unlikely, given the debatable and fanciful claims regarding Force spirits and supernatural entities. More likely this was a raider come to remove what it saw as competition.

 

And I am unarmed. I am expected to fight what appears to be a trained raider armed with nothing but myself and perhaps my laser scalpel? No, not a viable course of action.

 

...Diplomacy is out, given the current difficulty in communication.

 

That leaves deception.

 

The analysis took place in less than a second (Query did pride himself on his processing speed), and a plan formed in the next second. He was valuable hardware, and no one saw a threat in a broken machine. His missing arm would even help sell the illusion.

 

What do I not need...

 

Secondary cooling unit

 

That will do. It will only be an issue if I am subject to 90 degrees or hotter for any period of time beyond approximately an hour. And even then power core breach won't occur unless automated shutdown fails. A low risk in the current scenario.

 

Overload unit. Bypass safety protocols.

 

Query's chest flashed and shot out sparks as the expensive hardware melted, wisps of smoke leaking from the edges of his plates. Simultaneously, Query dimmed his photoreceptors and went still. Hopefully to the raider, it would appear he'd malfunctioned and shut down.

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The moment he had swung himself into the hull, Su Bae knew that he had a problem. For one, he had misjudged his weight and was moving much faster than he had intended to. And the moment he had crossed enough of an arch to shift his center of mass outwards, he could feel his own body shift down inside of his suit towards his legs, sending him careening into the floor and then tumbling listlessly towards the opposite end of the hull hole.

 

As he impacted against the wall and slowed to a halt the captain looked around and tried to ignore the sickening feeling of his own insides crawling back up to their proper places within his suit, filling in the chest cavity and reconnecting to his head and arms. There was... smoke, and some sort of armored humanoid. It wasn't moving, and it was missing an arm, but it didn't match any sort of entity that he knew of. Perhaps some other group of humans had been enslaved and influenced, or another race was captured and forced into servitude. Regardless of who or what they were though, they were trespassing, and given the lack of visible weaponry he assumed that he could still feasibly force them out of his ship.

 

He might even be able to force them to lead him back to their origin, so he could orient himself and do something about his ship. And also his apparently liquefied organs, which... he was still trying not to think about too hard.

 

A single line of commands opened up his external speakers and short range transmitters on all channels, broadcasting as clearly in Rakatan as he could, "You are trespassing aboard a ship of the Seoularian Navy, surrender your ship, your possessions, and your freedom. Whatever your Empire has promised to punish you with, I will guarantee protection from should you comply."

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The readout aboard the customized TIE Interceptor spat out a series of letters and figures across the display screen that Kayle sat forward, hoping that perhaps closer to proximity would help her decipher the apparent words flashing across the blue screen.

 

What in the world is this? Where is it coming from? Is this some sort of technical readout?

. . . no. That would be in something I could understand. This does not read like any sort of technical readout associated with imperial technology . . .

. . . right! Something must be trying to communicate with the ship . . .

. . . if that is the case, it most assuredly is not my friend Query. I hope he is ok . . .

. . . maybe I should go and rescue him. . .

. . . sadly, I do not have any sort of weapons training or weapons of war . . .

. . . wait a minute . . .

. . .what if it is this hulk? Maybe the computer system is still operational? . . .

 

Reaching forward, Kayle began typing out on the add-on keyboard, hoping that she could broadcast back to the ship or whatever it was that was trying to communicate in a mutually understandable language, droidspeak.

 

Greetings . . . strange . . . entity. . . I . . . cannot . . . understand . . .you . . .

 

Kayle paused, pondering what to say next. Whoever or whatever was trying to communicate most likely had Query in its clutches. Does it have clutchers? She had to be careful with what she said.

 

. . .ponder ponder . . .

. . .oh! I know!

 

Returning to the keyboard Kayle clacked away again,

 

We . . . come . . . in . . . peace.

 

There, that should do nicely. Clicking the send button, Kayle sat back confident that message would do the trick and if it did not, Kayle had realized that even without any body-based weaponry like Query’s late-modification gun arm, she did sit at the controls of one of the Empire’s most lethal fighter craft . . .

 

. . . and fighter craft had big mean guns!

 

I do hope that Query can make it out alive . . .

. . . This place does not seem at all safe like he guaranteed. . .

. . .Yes, but we have the ship . . .

. . .I suppose we could make an escape if needed; but that would mean possibly leaving Query behind. . .

. . .Yes. . .

. . .What about his Imperial knowledge though? That too would seem important to preserve. . .

. . . Not as important as ours though . . .

. . . Oh. Absolutely. If push comes to shove. . .

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Query watched the figure through dimmed photoreceptors.

 

Excellent. He does not intend to kill me. My plan was a success.

 

...What is my next course of action?

 

Analyze current situation, and judge accordingly.

 

Let's see, the suit does not resemble any known models or design styles. Either it is a high-end custom suit, or more likely it originated with this ship given the vessel's own peculiar aesthetics. Perhaps the raider looted it from this vessel. Excellent! Functional tech present means that I was correct! Once this raider has been dealt with, I can engage in repairs and we-

 

...What is THAT?

 

What Query assumed was a transmission of static, garbled nonsense broadcast from some malfunctioning communications unit quickly revealed itself to be some kind of complex pattern. The cadence and unpredictable variations indicated a language of some kind, but it resembled nothing Query had come across.

 

Perhaps it is encrypted? Ah! The man in the suit is calling to his comrades on an encrypted channel, and I've intercepted it!

 

...Kayle is going to respond and betray our presence. And I'm not equipped with a transmitter to warn her. And even if I was, I can't be sure what channels they are listening to.

 

Wait, why is he broadcasting on my comlink channel AND my HoloNet channel? Is he simply broadcasting on all frequencies? Then why encrypt it?

 

Patience. We must learn more.

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Frond could not help but smile at Ficcabin’s concern for his wellbeing. Little did he know that when one embraced The Force, little concern was felt for one’s mortal form. After all, it was nothing more than a prison that contained one’s signature in The Force to this fanciful plain.

 

Without a word he followed Ficcabin aboard the ship. Watching the Givin settle into the pilot’s seat, Frond could feel the Givin’s aura begin to relax for the first time since they had met.

 

Stepping behind the skeletal being, Frond placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, as he spoke.

 

”Good. You have that feeling at that the helm. Of the that call is The Force. Peace this take, your enshrine in it heart. Confront when the darkness inevitably we, cling peace to the you that will this be. Your peace to allow this peace at the soul helm to the peace of become.”

 

Only then did Ficcabin ask the question that Frond had asked himself. Where were they going to? The Force would guide him. The Force would guide them. However, if truth be told, he did not know. Even as he closed his eyes to reach out, he was unable to find the glimmering threads that were the souls in his vision. Perhaps he was too late. Perhaps he was too early and those souls had not yet even been born into this plane. Yet Frond could not shake the feeling that he needed to go and confront the dark worm seeking to subjugate those terrified souls. Perhaps there was more to this. After all, The Force had led him thus far. The Force had brought him to the Jedi. The Force had brought him to train under Sandy and train beside Brother Kel, and now it had brought him aboard this derelict freighter with this skeletal being, Ficcabin Yule. The Force had not failed him yet. It had always provided him with an answer.

 

Perhaps it was time for another lesson, here drifting just outside the orbit of Felucia. The Force aura of the planet was palpable even here, the peacefulness of the natural darkness that swirled below mingling with the true neutral power of the flora and fauna.

 

”you peace that feel, embrace it. Your close eyes. Your reach with out mind. Mind and soul in your it submerge. No confined are so within longer the mind of your do until prison you own. Moment in that, see out and reach the invisible. Aura feel the planet the radiating from. The you ship around the feel. Crystal and your mine feel. Find then me. To reach my out mind. Meditate I on shall my vision. Show The Force let where you show go to. Form the it to allow coordinates, in your not mind, in your soul but. Then, then only and, not do think. Act. The Force to the computer the digits allow into.”

 

At that moment, Frond fell silent, confident that Ficcabin would understand his simple instructions on how to find himself in The Force and to reach out and connect their minds. Tilting his head back to look up towards the ceiling, Frond closed his eyes, a meditative technique that spanned beyond cultures, races, and religions. Then he began to search his innermost thoughts and memories allowing his vision of yellow fog and dead trees to wash through him and radiate from his mind. He ignored the dark worm’s presence and the cries of the unseen souls, focusing instead on the rocky barren landscape. It was shrouded in every direction in thick rolling yellow billows of fog. In the fog the occasional single blackened and withered spire of a long dead tree jutting upwards like a forgotten wizard’s keep pierced the sickly yellow.

 

Focusing on the surroundings of his vision and the very surface of the rocky world, Frond hoped that Ficcabin would be able to sense it through The Force and use his innate love of numbers and logic to feel through The Force and find their destination.

 

”Now. The Force through flow you let.”

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At Frond's words Ficcabin nodded, only half-listening. His intimate relationship with flying made him a bit oblivious to things around him sometimes, which many would've considered rude. Ficcabin himself saw it as that flying was an important and risky task, filled with countless dangers that always required pure focus. It was almost a pity most older individuals who attempted conversation with the Givin during flying procedures saw him more as rude rather than focused. Oh well.

 

However, at his own question, it was obvious something bothered Frond. Ficcabin couldn't determine exactly what, but for a moment he thought he saw a moment of worrying thought on the tree's face. It was only for a moment before he replied, but Frond was deep in thought like a worried traveler, unsure what was about to happen. His words only confirmed Ficcabin's thoughts.

 

He had no idea where they were going, just an idea.

 

For a moment, Ficcabin was annoyed. Even a unprofessional pilot had an idea where to go. If he didn't know the exact system, he knew at least a sector to start in. If he didn't have that, he knew a system that would hold someone who did know. But instead, this time he was flying by instinct and not thought. However, this moment of annoyance passed, rebuked by his inner sense of respect for the tree. Again, he owed Frond enough to let him decide where to go, and if by Ficcabin's instinct was how he chose, then so be it.

 

"Alright, but let me say that I'd rather have my ship for unknown locations" Ficcabin declared as he let go of the controls and closed his eyes.

 

When he had done this before, it was a simple matter to let the overwhelming presence of peace in that distant realm to guide his thoughts into meditation or whatever the Jedi called it. He expected it to be harder here, but not this hard. Before it was like letting in an ocean of pure water. Here it was like a tainted puddle. There was a lot more noise. He couldn't explain it fully, but the machinery around Ficcabin, from the droids to the ship controls, seemed to reflect the living presence around him, dirtying it ever so slightly. A minor distraction to people who had practiced this skill over and over again proved to be a major barrier to Ficcabin. Perhaps later when he could test this meditation he would figure out a way to ignore it instantly, but for now he needed to focus on Frond's mind.

 

"Ach, I'm sorry, one moment please. I'm still new to this..." Once again Ficcabin pulled that perfect cube and set it on the controls before him. His mind slowly opened to the peace around him, with the crystal's questioning nature shining through like a light in the darkness, followed by the presence of power that came from Frond's chest. They both slowly illuminated Ficcabin's new sense to the realm of peace that the planet below gave off. Ficcabin welcomed it eagerly, eager to bathe in it once more. Ficcabin inwardly smiled as he began to 'sense' that living presence that emitted from his friend. He wanted to remark how it felt, but he was too lost in thought to attempt the simplest of descriptions.

 

As he let himself go, Ficcabin began to what he would describe as 'see' in his mind's eye. An infinite thick yellow choking fog. A lone dead tree. A presence of something twisted. For a moment Ficcabin wanted to attempt to grasp reality once more, hating the confusing picture he saw, but something else was coming to.

 

Stars.

 

For the briefest moment, Ficcabin sensed the stars. Massive burning points of hydrogen. 1.008, times the seven of them, while the fog was made of something dense like, 43.7033 with infinite touches of 12.231, with an isolated tree that wasn't perpendicular... 130 degrees, with a square root of...

 

An equation was forming in Ficcabin's head. No not an equation, a formula. Ficcabin felt a rise of excitement as it came together. The picture faded but the numbers briefly resonated a perfect harmonious song to Ficcabin's spirit. It wasn't a formula. It was simpler. It was all one set.

 

Ficcabin opened his eyes. Had there been facial muscles, a grin would've been on his face.

 

Hey calculators, identify system... Ficcabin began to recite the coordinates as he looked at the star maps on his own data pad to calculate the fastest route. The droids looked at each other for a moment then gave a name. The Garn System in the Cadma sector.

 

What took the droids ten minutes to plot out what took Ficcabin five. A course was set. Ficcabin pocketed his crystal and glanced at Frond, an excited tone in his voice now.

 

"Let's go to Garn" and the ship disappeared into hyperspace.

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Su Bae tilted his head while he further examined his stationary raider, and listened to the rather strange emissions coming from his internal speakers. A screen sitting on the top of his visor displayed the frequency shortly thereafter as his suit began to analyze the message, which was highly repetitive and seemed to just have two states. That was... strange. A binary message from Imperial slave-people? He supposed that they could have been so technologically inferior, given their situation with the Rakata, but it was still rather odd considering that the Seoularians had been using trinary for nearly their entire history. Surely others would have found and adapted to it as well, given its superiority.

 

While he sat and attempted recoding the message into an understandable language, or semblance thereof, the captain kept a close eye on his intruder. It hadn't yet moved from its position, seemingly content to just drift in place and play dead. Unfortunately the strange binary code didn't match up to any of his known language profiles, nor did it seem to match up with archived records of any. Without some sort of bridge to communicate over things were going to be a little rough, but not all hope was lost yet.

 

Hesitantly, he began to form a new broadcast. This time he decided against using any sort of real language, focusing instead on listing out a series of coordinates relevant to the Empire. Belsavis, the prison world, was first, followed shortly by Byss, Corellia, Dantooine, Dathomir, Notron, Duro, Hoth, Kashyyk, Tatooine, and finally, Lehon and Seoul 5 themselves. In some effort to indicate his place of origin Su Bae repeated the last set of coordinates, hoping to get the message across that Seoul 5 was his point of origin, but keeping his expectations low.

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”Garn? Have this heard of not I world. Us guiding if is The Force, go we shall. It The Force wills.”

 

Frond nodded as the ship slipped into the alternate reality of hyperspace. He could easily see that Ficcabin was quite focused on his task of piloting the ship and he waited until they had settled unto their hyperspace journey before he spoke again, contenting himself to stand as still as a tree, allowing the Givin’s subtle, natural, manipulations of The Force to wash over, around, and through him. It was clear that even without training, Ficcabin Yule had a natural affinity for piloting and that The Force, unknown to even the pilot, aided him. Ficcabin Yule was a skilled pilot because The Force willed it so. To Frond, that was odd in and of itself.

 

[i[To skills why The Force one outside no had that world would fanciful bearing this guide?[/i]

 

Frond pondered this thought for a while. Unable to come to an answer, he redirected his thoughts to the skeletal being behind the ship controls.

 

” Brother Ficcabin done well. Guides The Force it you clear is that. Open to you and your you flow through to need just it allow mind. Like Beyond Shadows just travelling, understanding have you another taken The Force in step. Seen you visions have. Beyond the continuing is their darkness to banks rise. To world are this travelling we, Garn, us awaits a dark there worm. Light must go and there we the preserve.”

 

“Controls you when leave ship’s are the able to, in me the storage join bay. Aspect I of The Force you will another teach.”

 

With that, Frond took one more glance at the streams of bluish light whizzing by in never ending innumerable lines past the cockpit window, realizing how easy it would be to become entranced by such a vision. Then he turned and in his characteristic shuffle, scraped across the deck plating out of the cockpit.

 

Making his way through the derelict ship, Frond found his way to the mostly empty storage bay. A few secured crates of food stuffs and spare parts seemed to be all that there was in the otherwise dimly lit bay.

 

As much as Frond desired to find a way to allow the light of the numerous stars to flood his foliage and nourish his woody frame, he knew that he could survive without it for a time. As they grew closer and closer to the world in his vision, Frond knew that here, in this moment, he had another responsibility. He would teach Ficcabin what he could of The Force.

 

Upon Ficcabin’s arrival in the gloomy bay, Frond offered a warm smile that radiated through the very fabric of the air through The Force. He was happy to see his fellow seeker. In his humanoid form, Frond carefully settled to the ground, his legs criss-crossed beneath him, with his legs flexing so that his rooty feet were above what could only be described as his knees. He signaled for Ficcabin to do the same across from him.

 

”Is many choose the form in mind-walkers of this my meditate to brother.”

 

“Try you taught allow Jedi the me me and teach to something. Levitation. Your floor place on the crystal you before.”

 

As the Givin placed his cubic keepsake, Frond’s eyes twinkled.

 

”Doesn’t cube helps this connect to you it The Force? Your close eyes. Breathe. Feel again The Force. Between nothingness here the worlds between spaces of, my crystal, you for me found the seed, still the air, it feel all. You once all them feel, from The Force your flow mind and allow them through them through to, your heart into. The Force you can when feel, you this felt like it of vessel the helm at, out reach. The mind your crystal feel with. Hand out your reach with. The hand call to your crystal. Move the air feel The Force. The pick to it allow crystal. Forward it bring.”

 

Frond knew that he was not skilled at the ability he was seeking to introduce Ficcabin to; a side effect of his eons of dedication to Force contemplation and lack of implementation. Even now as he took these infantile steps into the world of the Jedi, Frond was versed in feeling The Force not using it on the physical plain. Still, Frond watched the Givin for a moment before closing his eyes, reaching out to try and envelope the new seeker before him in a warm embrace. He wanted to encourage the Givin. He wanted him to succeed, to embrace the simple ways of The Force, of the light.

 

”Not frustrated to yourself allow do to become. You that peace find the feel your helm at. That hold. The true that Force is of the warmth. At frustration failing, of incompetence fear, anger, will these the dark side open to you. Resist them. Peaceful your center remember. You the joy in flight feel, numbers your, the learning joy of, will anchor these to you the light.”

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Suddenly the computer screen built into the console of the Interceptor flickered back to life again. Kayle could almost feel the computer whirring as it tried to make sense of the response. Kayle was still excited that the computer registered a response from . . . well, wherever it was that the response was coming from.

 

The ship maybe?

. . . but it looks so, so . . .

. . . lifeless?

. . . Yes, lifeless. How could it still even have power to respond?

. . . I don’t know. You did send out a signal did you not?

. . . well, that is true.

 

In the vast silence of space, Kayle pondered the blipping computer screen as it whirred and clacked trying to make sense of the strange signal it had received.

 

I wonder if Query is alright . . .

. . . He does have an ability for getting into trouble and frying secondary systems . . .

. . . That he does!

. . . I wonder if I can send a signal out to him and see if he is alright?

. . . Do medical droids have radio receivers?

. . . we are about to find out!

 

Kayle leaned forward and just as she was about to key up a message to broadcast back on any and all frequency and system the ship’s computer could find, the computer blinked again and began to spit out an array of coordinates and hyperspace routes to the planets specified in the message.

 

Kayle’s fingers hovered just above the keyboard. ”Well, that is something isn’t it? I do believe that I recognize some of these from Imperial archives.”

 

Returning to her task at hand with new zeal, Kayle clacked away sending a new message, one that was entirely different from her initial idea, echoing silently across the myriad of invisible waves and rays in the cold of space.

 

’Query can you hear me?

Something is trying to communicate with our ship. It seems to know something about Coruscant. I think I may have discovered an attack plan. I think I remember something about Coruscant being attacked by monsters while we were fleeing Kuat. Maybe you should come back to the ship. We can leave, blow this foreign abomination up, and be on our way to a sanctioned Imperial stronghold.”

 

 

“Just launch yourself out one of the gaping holes and I’ll pick you up.” she added to the end before hitting SEND.

 

Then, pulling her harness tight once again, Kayle fired up the engines of the ship and with little experience, but the guidance of luck, managed to nudge the ship away from the derelict vessel and about in a wide circle to face the once powerful gunship; its own guns now pointed at where Query had disappeared a short time before.

 

Now to turn these things on . . .

 

Kayle pushed the clearly marked red firing button aboard the controls. Nothing happened.

 

Must not be on . . .

. . . Did you plug it in?

. . . Wait; is that something that must be done? Where would I even begin to look for such a thing?

. . . Under the console maybe?

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Well from what I can tell... Ficcabin took a quick glance through the ship's logs as well as his own personal data pad, seeing what information he had. He was surprised at his findings. ...there's nothing there. I mean there is a planet there, but as far as I can tell, nothing notable, even with the Jedi's information. Maybe this ship is outdated, or maybe the Jedi have something there that is on a need to know basis.

 

Ficcabin considered this a little odd though. Still, this was Frond's 'vision' and Ficcabin's interpretation of it. Maybe he did something wrong? However this thought was quickly banished. The chance of him coming up with the exact coordinates to a planet in a system no one had heard of before was less than or equal to .005, give or take some figures. Still, what an odd place. Perhaps the Force, as Frond kept calling it, was guiding him there, but that made Ficcabin wonder a question.

 

Does the Force control all actions, or do people's actions control the force?

 

When Frond left for the back areas of the ship, indicating for Ficcabin to follow, he stalled for a few moments to ponder the question. The crystal in his pocket seemed to hum silently in his brain, as if thinking with him. If the Force controlled all, that would indicate both it's sentience and willpower. Such a though excited Ficcabin. Such a discovery would be monumental to all cultures who ever conceived of ideas of deities and extra planer spirits, being able to attribute everything that ever existed to 'The Force". Not to mention, it would be exactly what Ficcabin would need to help complete his theory. Surely a way to study how much the force deemed things worthy existed. Everything, from the airless parts of Yag'Dhul to the remains of Corescant would add up to the perfect number: The Force. One. This would make him the greatest scientist of all time!

 

However, such a discovery would also be horrible to all beings that sought freedom. Choice would be an illusion. All would be slaves to this power. While every event would have a reason behind its doing, everything would be powerless to stop events from happening. The long ago Clone wars, followed by the terrible Galactic Empire. The destruction of Coruscant. All those tragedies that happened were simply events the Force deemed necessary, or worse something to please its boredom. If the Force controlled all actions, then Ficcabin would become the worst philosopher of all time, finding a reason for every tyrant, murderer, psychopath and rogue to exist: the Force deemed it so.

 

Ficcabin shook his head. He couldn't remain on this thought for now. Something for the future to wonder about.

 

Ficcabin made his way to where Frond was, not noticing how there were no windows back here. He sat down cross-legged trying to imitate the tree and listened carefully, trying to translate everything quick enough to make a respectable reaction.

 

Yes, this crystal does seem to connect me to what you call the Force. Ficcabin didn't think now was the best time to bring up his line of thought. As a scientist, he needed to gather information first, and then hypothesize.

 

So Ficcabin listened and began to obey. Closing his eyes with the crystal before him, Ficcabin attempted to empty his mind again like before. He wanted to once again let the force flow through him. But this time was different. This time his mind kept getting clouded. The question kept popping up, momentarily distracting him. He would push it away but it would return like an asteroid in orbit. He could sense his crystal but only that. It helped him focus at moments but overall he was distracted.

 

It began to show when Ficcabin had to stop, take a deep breath, and utter a few prime numbers. As he refocused himself and emptied his mind, the picture came together a bit more but doubt still dwelled in the back of his head. Ficcabin recalled how Frond had retrieved the seed from the Font of Power. Surely this is what Frond wanted Ficcabin to do. But how? Ficcabin felt the presence of the crystal for a moment longer then attempted something. In his mind, he imagined his skeletal hand, reaching out to touch the crystal. The hand would apply exactly half of a newton of Force, lifting it against the force of gravity. The crystal would lift slowly and gently, upwards, and float in the air. Any moment it would happen. Any moment...

 

Ficcabin opened his eyes to disappointment. The cube remained where it sat, unmoved and untouched.

 

Again Ficcabin told himself. He began to repeat the process of using the prime numbers. The image of the hand reached out to grab the crystal, a bit more forceful this time. He instinctively reached his hand out a bit to help guide his mind. Again, nothing occurred. Even as Frond spoke about frustration, fear and anger, this only made Ficcabin more annoyed with both the tree and himself. Again the focus. Again the counting. Again the failing.

 

Perhaps this is the will of the Force? You aren't suppose to lift it yet? Ficcabin thought as he attempted again. Perhaps this is the proof you need? Proof that the Force controls all.

 

The image returned to Ficcabin's mind. Not one of the crystal before him, or of the one Frond had. It was the one Ficcabin saw in the pool. The crashing of the moon. The massive destruction of the jewel of the galaxy. The countless lives lost forever, brought down to zero. All those who died were simply supposed to die. Nothing could have stopped it.

 

No... Ficcabin almost growled aloud as his mind went down a dark trail of thinking. His eyes, open, focused on the crystal before him. To the Givin, nothing else existed in the entire galaxy except him and the crystal. A sentient being, an object to be moved and a point to be made. Ficcabin was a scientist. As a scientist, he studied the world around him, and with knowledge in hand, he controlled that world to serve sentients like him. This Force was no different.

 

For a brief moment, Ficcabin imagined the Font of Power. Then he clenched both his physical and mental hand into a fist, and pulled back. The crystal shook for a moment, then turned over forwards once.

 

Ficcabin didn't feel joy as he had expected to with this accomplishment. He rubbed his face, unable to look at Frond.

 

I don't think I did that right...

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Frond knew that feeling The Force and manipulating it in this fanciful world were two different things. Each being had control of the body The Force willed them; but Frond found that manipulating it on a physical level was a different challenge. It spoke to him, guided him, and he allowed it to flow through him; but, like Ficcabin, he struggled with bending The Force to his will. Perhaps The Force was not meant to be bent. Instead, they were to bend to The Force.

 

Even as Frond felt a surge of frustration radiate from the Givin’s being, he began to respond,

 

”Of servants The Force are we. You have I should this perhaps taught first. I code the Beyond Shadows you remember do when recited went we?

 

Frond queried, his concern for Ficcabin’s quick turning to the dark side, apparent in his voice,

 

”The listen to words. Will answers they find help the you you seek. The focus words on, you have not seen what. Feel you must. Block thinking only will you. Thoughts The Force transcends.”

 

Tipping his head back with his eyes closed, Frond began in a hollow chanting song-like voice, his usual verbage replaced with understandable words as he echoed the mantra he had known for many lifetimes,

 

”There is none but The Force

I am but a disciple of The Force.

Those who seek to bend The Force are still but vessels of its will.

The will of The Force will right all wrongs

The Force guides all, but each is free to choose right from wrong.

All knowledge and power is of The Force.

The Force is life.

The Force is Death.”

 

Frond opened his eyes and stared downwards at the cross-legged skeleton before him.

 

”On the concentrate words. The ignore worries. Your out block thoughts. Your open heart.”

 

He gestured down at the crystal again,

 

”Again. Call it. Do fail not.”

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The small skeletal being listened to the tree's chanting which required no translating. It was rather beautiful and to his guilty state, slightly redeeming. As Frond said each word, Ficcabin tried to memorize it, tried to keep it in his head. The last words hit him a little harder then the others but it didn't bother him. He simply listened and memorized.

 

Alright. Ficcabin said. He glanced at the cube before him, an object that looked much more serene now then before, and closed his eyes and tried to recite the words.

 

"There is none but the Force... Ficcabin started, then exhaled slowly. His mind was still troubled, but he pushed the chaotic thoughts away and focused on the words.

 

"I am a disciple of the one Force... Ficcabin let the number slip, truly unaware that he said it. The feeling of peace was beginning to return. Ficcabin wanted to fight it, to not let himself be a servant, but at the same time, he wanted to embrace it.

 

"Those who seek to control the Force are but...servants, no, vessels of its will. Those who seek the bend the Force are but vessels of its will... Ficcabin struggled to get the words right, correcting himself. He almost began again entirely but found it impossible to stop. It wasn't a fear of failing, but rather, Ficcabin just felt called to continue.

 

"The will of the Force will right all wrongs... Ficcabin exhaled again, the feeling of Peace beginning to flow stronger over him. But it didn't surprise him. It made him feel at ease with his own mind.

 

"The Force guides all, but all are free to choose... The images of Coruscant popped into Ficcabin's head like a stray blaster shot. Ficcabin took a sharp breath in shock. For a moment Ficcabin was threatened to lose the peace he was finding.

 

"All knowledge and power is of the Force... However the images were soon replaced. Three bodies of water: a pool, a lake and a fountain. All three were in tune with each other, singing their own individual songs to create a perfect harmony. Coruscant faded away.

 

"The Force is life... The crystal was much easier to sense in the serenity that Ficcabin found himself in. It began to naturally take shape in Ficcabin's mind. Mentally he stretched out to touch and hold it. The crystal popped a question into Ficcabin's head, to which he answered instinctively.

 

"The Force is death. Ficcabin's physical hand outstretched itself, perfectly relaxed and at ease. For a few single precious moments Ficcabin was perfectly at peace, seeing the crystal before him despite his closed eyes. To Frond, it may have appeared Ficcabin stopped breathing. But slowly, the crystal began to shake and then slowly lift itself into the air, a few centimeters at a time, until it hovered gently a foot off the ground. Ficcabin called to it, and began to gently pull it towards him.

 

Ficcabin opened his eyes and breathed out. In his open palm the crystal rested. Ficcabin looked at his friend, unsure what to say.

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