ForceFusion

*** Obi-Wan Kenobi propelled himself through the depths of the black water using limbs and enhanced strength in the Force. He could feel Otah-Gunga in the distance, though the dim light of the Gungan city wasn't yet visible over the reef he was skirting. He was cold and tired and wondering if he was as deep in his tasks as he was in the oceans of Naboo. If he was, did he have a metaphorical breather to keep him alive? The Force was a good answer to that question, but the Padawan wasn't entirely certain of it at this point. As the reef started to descend deeper into the ocean, Obi-Wan saw the lights of the Gungan capital and was, once again, taken by its beauty. The gentle yellow and red lights coming from the orb-like buildings back-dropped by the pure black of the deep sea made for a one of the most beautiful holo-paintings he could imagine. As he suspected, once Obi-Wan got past the first few rings of the city, he was stopped by a swimming guard, on whom he used the Force to nudge them towards guiding him to the central-most government buildings. Once he stepped through the membrane that kept the water from the oxygen, Obi-Wan noticed that the beings in the building were hustling around in barely control chaos. ”œCaptain Tarples,”

Aerec reacted with shock at first. Someone had put out a bounty on him? A Sith? But then he thought, as Darex spoke. Yes, Sith probably always had bounties out on the Jedi. And Aerec probably had plenty of minor bounties out on himself in the day when he was thieving around Coronet City. Darex radiated competence and comfort, and Aerec was able to laugh it off. He even got a bit of an ego boost out of it. Hey, my name is on the HoloNet now! That thought caused him to grin, and he wondered if Darex had picked it up. "So, I guess we better get to Ilum, huh?" Aerec prompted, still anxious to get on with his training. Especially now that he didn't know exactly what he'd be learning next. When he'd thought he would train under Faust, he at least had an idea that he'd be learning brutal combat techniques. Now...well, the Jedi and the Force and Master Darex was all still a bit mystical. He could wait to gulp it all in and become a Jedi Knight, out on his own doing...Jedi things. He still wasn't entirely sure what "Jedi things" were, but he sure was looking forward to them.

***Chapter Twenty-three Theed City was burning. It took every morsel of strength for Padmè not to weep and collapse into a heap of a pathetic teenage girl. A sixteen year old should never watch her home being burnt to the ground, much less feel the responsibility for saving it on her shoulders. Yet this was the weight settling into Queen Amidala's chest as she stared out the viewport of the Elegance in disbelief. Swarms of droid starfighters chased their Naboo counterparts, yellow N-1 fighters, over the city, outnumbering the defenders by more than three to one. Naboo's ships were faster and more maneuverable, but were outmatched for weapons. The Trade Federation fighters had almost free reign over the city, those not pursuing a defending pilot dropping missiles on the once bright marble buildings of Theed. On the streets, Padmè could see small moving figures, the residents of the city, running terrified down the streets, usually in clumps herded by the light brown form of battle droids, occasionally shooting red blasts into those crowds. In that moment, she felt the pain of her people, and she knew the heartache of failure. But she did not allow a single tear. Not here, not in public. She was the leader of an invaded nation, and it would not do to show weakness. She was not alone in her quest. Beside her sat a competent Jedi padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the Jedi Master Stass Allie. Her longtime friend Captain Panaka piloted her ship, and on their wing was a powerful young man, Anakin Skywalker, and his unpredictable pilot friend Vel Taph. With this small band of heroes assembled, surely they could turn the tide of this battle. She hoped. ”œYour majesty,”

*** The cargo hold of Jango Fett's Slave I was dark and cramped with Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura crammed inside. As far as the Jedi Master could tell, the ship hadn't moved in the time they'd been captured. And he couldn't figure out just how long that time had been. All he knew was that occasionally he still felt the pain of headaches resulting from the stun blast to his face in the confrontation that had led to his capture. More importantly, though, Aayla had completely recovered from the blast that had knocked her unconscious and into the depths of the sea from which Kit had saved her. There was, of course, one thing missing from the puzzle: the Force. It had come as a frustration, though not much of a surprise, that Jango Fett had a Force-quieting ysilimir somewhere near the cargo hold. The ysilimiri were one of the few species to have developed a protective ability that blocked the power of the Force, projecting up to ten meters in diameter where a Jedi could not access or feel the Force at all. Luckily for Kit, he'd trained with the wretched things and had experienced them enough that he wasn't overly affected by the absence of his mystical ally. Aayla, however, had woken up screaming from her unconsciousness, and though she did not show her inner feelings, it was obvious that the first few days ”“ or what Kit assumed to be a few days ”“ had been very difficult for the young apprentice. Occasionally, she still tossed and turned with nightmares. They passed their time attempting to come up with escape plans or theorizing as to Fett's connection with the mysterious underwater facilities that were rumored throughout Tipoca City and how that might be connected to the assassination attempt on Senator Organa's life that had started this whole mess. But they developed nothing solid, nothing that Kit was satisfied with. Escape was difficult when you were locked away and stripped down to only your robes, which had been thoroughly searched and rid of any useful items. They were left with only their own bodies and the cloth of their robes and were trapped behind bars of Mandolarian iron, one of the toughest substances known to the galaxy, even rumored to withstand a blow from a lightsaber blade. Jango was the most successful bounty hunter in the galaxy for a reason: he'd thought of everything his captives could do to escape. He delivered their food in full armor with his thirteen year old son Boba as backup and saw them at no other time. They relieved themselves in a can which was taken out and replaced only at meal times, and always at blaster-point. Neither Jango nor Boba said as much as a word to help their event-connecting theories, either. Though Kit's mind was always working, he found himself spending more time in silence. He'd felt the subtle weight of hopelessness settling on his heart as more and more of the ideas he and Aayla vocalized became less and less plausible. Most of his thoughts now were spent on figuring out just what Jango Fett intended to do with them. Ransom them back to the Jedi? Keep them as a prize? Was he auctioning them off to the highest bidder, the most spiteful enemy of the Jedi Order? The stress of the unknown was creeping into his muscles, and without the guiding and comforting hand of the Force, it was difficult to keep himself hopeful and right-minded. It was a struggle, but he managed. The clanking boots of Jango Fett and his well-trained son could be heard now elsewhere in the ship and headed toward them. Odd. It wasn't time for another meal, unless Kit had lost more time in his thoughts that it seemed. He prodded Aayla awake before the two Fetts became visible. She was alert in a moment. Jango was carrying something, not a meal tray. Boba was, too, but it was wrapped around his shoulders and wriggling. It was surely the ysilimir. Jango, in the hand opposite his blaster hand, had what looked like a communications device. At a second glance, Kit recognized it to be a Jedi long-range comm unit, the one he'd been carrying with him on this mission. ”œUp, Jedi,”

For me it sadly comes down to one thing: time. When I had free time this summer, I made an effort to read and critique a lot of different stories. However, I'm also a pretty harsh reader. So harsh that if I think a story or its writing in the first few paragraphs is rubbish, then I don't bother to read it. People don't really know this, but to get even a comment from me is a compliment (unless the thing was really really short, and even then it might not have been worth commenting on.) That, too, is because of time. And unfortunately now, getting my bearings in a new country with a new job, I just don't have the time. That also sorta goes for revising. I've been posting two projects here: my full length novel Converging Fates and the Third Sith War series. Converging Fates is a finished manuscript because it is the result of a project from college. I turned the project in and don't really have any plans to do anything with it. So, while I love critique, even harsh critique, it's not going to apply for that particular story. The Third Sith War is a different situation. They are all first drafts. For most of them, I sit down and write them and if I like what I'm writing enough, I'll finish it and post it. If I don't, I scrap it and try again another day. If it gets to the posting level, I read it over once for spelling, punctuation, and other minor crap (most of which I miss). They are all the epitome of first drafts. Critique may actually result in significant changes for those. Eventually. I have many other serious writing projects in my head and on the page which don't make appearances here, and unfortunately TSW stories don't really have priority. All that said, I've never gotten any really harsh critiques on this site for any of my stories, unfortunately. Anyway, yeah, I'd love to give back, but it's not very high priority and I'm pretty busy.

***Chapter Twenty-two Darth Maul flipped high into the air, almost kicking the tall ceiling of the practice chamber in which he'd isolated himself. Just centimeters below his jumping form swept the thrumming blade of what could have taken his life. Currently Maul was honing his deadly skills by fighting against five specially programmed duelist droids, four of which were armed with practice lightsabers. It was the Sith apprentice's tradition, though, keep himself on edge, practicing as if his life depended on it, and so he'd adopted the tradition of arming one of his opponent droids ”“ a different, secret one every time ”“ with a real blade that would do more than the simple electric shock the practice blades dealt. Lord Sidious would surely approve of this practice: after all, it was common place for a Sith to toy with death. Maul landed and with one side of his dual-bladed weapon blocked a blow coming from behind without sparing the droid so much as a glance. While ducking under another swipe from a third steel exoskeleton, he pushed out with the Force, to knock away the first two of his opponents. For the few moments it would take the droids to recover, he would only be concerned with the three remaining opponents. Using the extra space wisely, Maul side-stepped a blow coming from his left, moving with the grace of a jungle feline, and roundhouse kicked to the side of an opponent's steel head. That victim stumbled, giving Maul an opportunity to thrust his lightsaber into what would have been a stomach on a flesh-and-blood enemy. The droid fell, twitching into electronic unconsciousness. After the duel, it would be able to mend itself. The droids that had been pushed out of the way now re-joined the fight and Maul's two blades whipped and whizzed around him with blinding speed, blocking everything that came his way from the four blue weapons. As the attacks became more intense, forcing him to block high and low and back and front almost instantaneously, the apprentice realized he would fall if he continued to allow himself to be surrounded. With a great leap, he was above them, changing his course slightly by pushing off with a foot from one droid's metal skull. That one stumbled back and another one found Maul's lightsaber gouging through a photo-receptor. Two down, three to go. The remaining droids rushed at him, forcing him back and back to the corner of the perfectly empty cube of a room. Their programming caused them to up the skill in their attacks as more of their partners fell. He ducked under an attack which scored a burn on the wall behind where his face had just been. Simultaneously he blocked two low blows from the other attackers. Instinctively he kicked around in an attempt to swipe their feet from under them, but all three of the droids stepped easily over his attack. For an ever brief moment, Maul thought the unthinkable: he may not be able to handle the pressure the three opponents represented. He may fail. There was a chink in his confidence since his failure on Tatooine. Lord Sidious barely communicated with him now, and no new missions had been assigned since his return to Coruscant. That wretched old man of a Jedi Dooku seemed to be the object of the Sith Master's eye. Had Sidious discarded Maul in favor of Dooku? Was Maul's life forfeit, a failed project, worth nothing? Would it affect the galaxy one iota if he gave into the attacks of the artificial enemies which now had him cornered? Hatred. Hatred of himself, of Dooku, of failure, of the Jedi, of the galaxy that spun so steadily and pointlessly as its inhabitants bickered, hatred of the three pathetic steel lumps that towered over his crouching form now. Hatred fueled him. His arms lifted his weapon up, catching two of the three blows on their blades. The third blade was on a trajectory to cut through the middle of Maul's weapon, disconnecting the crimson lightsabers and ruining the most beautiful thing the Sith apprentice had ever crafted. But that third blade never reached its target. It was clattering to the floor without a wielder, for its droid had been shoved by the invisible hand of the Force across the room. It slammed so hard into the wall that it did not rise again. Feverishly Maul rose to his feet, the power from his anger pushing the two blades and their metal holders back. He lashed hard and quickly out, his opponents now being put on the defensive for the first time in minutes. His attack was relentless, but the droids adapted, growing stronger with every attack. Maul would not back down. He swiped low and high, almost simultaneously, feinting and kicking and punching without remorse. He allowed the two to get on either side of him, just for a challenge, just to see what he could do. But before Maul found could find out, he heard a chirping from his discarded robe. His comm link was calling out to him. His Master was calling. Quite the quandary. He could not deactivate the droids without killing them, and he would not allow himself to keep his Master waiting long. He'd rather be stricken down by the two blue blades. The comm link beeped again, as Maul blocked a low strike from his right and then twisted duck under a high blow from his left. He riposted against the first attack, hoping to score a killing blow, but no such luck. Kicking at the opponent to his left the droid opponent there leapt over the strike and retaliated with a blow meant to sever Maul's head from his shoulders. He blocked it, the red blade clashing with the blue as his flesh-and-blood strength matched and struggled against the mechanical strength of the droid. The comm link beeped again. Sweat began to slip down from his horned scalp onto his brow, and that had nothing to do with the flashing lightsaber that was coming towards his back. With a flick of the Force he sent the droid's blow just wide, then kicked at a knee, landing a successful hit, sending the droid staggering back, all the while holding the pressing blue blade on his own. The comm link beeped again. Enough. His Master had waited long enough. He would answer before the next beep or die at the hands of his own training droids. In an instant a plan was in his mind and surging through his muscles, throwing his body into action. And it was all based on one terrible risk: one of the droids had the real blade, the one that could cut him down forever. If it was the blade pushing down against his own right now, Maul's life was likely forfeit. With a surge from the Force, Maul broke the contact between the two blades and sprung away from the first droid, flying head-first toward the staggering droid he'd kicked a moment earlier, leaving his back open to the blade of the first. Without remorse, he clutched the droid's wrist in his hand and plunged his red lightsaber into its chest. They collapsed together, and Maul began to spin into the second phase of his plan, waiting for either shock or burn of the first droid's attack. As he expected, his one opponent was hurtling toward him too quickly for Maul to avoid, the blue blade that held his fate aimed directly into his left side. It landed as Maul twisted, and the Sith apprentice felt his muscles spasm in pain that rippled through the rest of his body. Only shock. His risk had paid off. He ignored the pain and slammed the droid's head into the ground before taking his own blade through its now exposed neck. Standing, forcing adrenaline through his body at sickening speeds, he dashed across the room to where his comm link was about to beep again. ”œMaster,”

Aerec half-shrugged at Darex's question. He smiled back at Darla and was genuinely relieved and comfortable. "I still...can't really believe I just made that call, actually," Aerec admitted. He was still massively intrigued by Faust, and hadn't seen the terribly evil side of him. He'd only seen a massively intimidating side of him. But Aerec had survived a few intimidating situations. "I don't really know what made me change my mind. I was pretty convinced that I'd go until I saw you all...freak out. So, when I pulled Darla aside I knew I'd get her true opinion...and...well, I might be curious, but I don't want to be turned into a monster. I don't want to be someone that people like Darla despise." He sighed and kind of wanted a hug, though he didn't know how Jedi-like that was. "I guess I feel at home, and I know I'm not all wise and stuff like you, so I trusted your wisdom. I wasn't lying to Faust, though. When I'm a Jedi Knight, I might still seek him out. But I know I'm not ready yet."

A message arrived for Faust from Aerec Blackwood. Faust, Aerec began, first I'd like to say that I was and am shocked that you offered to train me, even with my Master along. I was shocked with honor and shocked with fear. But I'm just beginning my training. I've only picked up a lightsaber once, and I only have rudimentary skills in the Force. I'm not ready to take on your training. There are many that are horrified that I would even consider it. While I take the opinions of my friends into account, I gotta follow my own path. So, right now, I can't accept training under you. I'm not ready. Once I become a Jedi Knight, if I'm still this curious and your offer still stands, I will probably seek you out. But for now, I'm staying with my friends. Thanks for...y'know, not killing me on sight. Someday I hope to learn from you...just not today. May the Force be with you, too.

When Aerec awoke from his slumber, he found himself once again with Darex and Darla. Once again, the world seemed at ease. Though his sleep had been haunted with nightmares of slaughters and murder, feeling Darex's presence in the Force calmed him. And to see Darla brought a smile to his face. Darex and Darla were in conversation when Faust's message arrived. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. It hadn't been a dream within a dream. One of the most powerful men in the galaxy had indeed offered him a temporary apprenticeship. At any other time in Aerec's life, he probably would've taken it. In fact, he had almost taken it. He had bargained for it to be more comfortable. But Faust had quickly disappeared before Aerec could answer him, and then the weight of the decision had sunk in via the words of wisdom of friends. Being in the presence of Faust had been a fearful thing, and for some reason, now responding to his message seemed even more dangerous. But Aerec knew what he had to do. I faced him down in person, I can talk to him from across the galaxy. Just before he began speaking his response, he smiled at Darla. "Thank you," he said. The apprentice sent the same message to his Master via the Force. Faust, Aerec began, first I'd like to say that I was and am shocked that you offered to train me, even with my Master along. I was shocked with honor and shocked with fear. But I'm just beginning my training. I've only picked up a lightsaber once, and I only have rudimentary skills in the Force. I'm not ready to take on your training. There are many that are horrified that I would even consider it. While I take the opinions of my friends into account, I gotta follow my own path. So, right now, I can't accept training under you. I'm not ready. Once I become a Jedi Knight, if I'm still this curious and your offer still stands, I will probably seek you out. But for now, I'm staying with my friends. Thanks for...y'know, not killing me on sight. Someday I hope to learn from you...just not today. May the Force be with you, too.

*** He hadn't really known exactly what was coming out of his mouth when he'd been explaining his plan to Vel and Anakin. It was as if it was all coming to him on the spur of the moment, and that rusted protocol droid had just been relaying it to the other ship. The other ship, of course, contained the Queen of the Democratic State of Naboo, and the fate of her people was now resting in the plan's of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Master-less Jedi Padawan. ”œMay the Force be with us,”

Wow, I can't believe we're already to this point in the story. ***Chapter Twenty-one The white screen of hyperspace twisted and warped and slowly gave way to the star-speckled black backdrop of realspace, the planet of Naboo coming into focus. But the view current of her home planet did not bring joy to the heart of Padmè Amidala as it usually did. This image of Naboo showed a dozen ring-and-ball forms of the Trade Federation destroyers surrounding her blue and green globe. It showed ships dropping from those massive destroyers and making their way to the surface of Naboo, surely carrying battle droids or other tools of war. It showed black and gray droid starfighters clashing with yellow Naboo fighters just above the planet's atmosphere. Padmè did not need the help of the Force to tell that her planet, her people, were crying out in horror. But she remained calm, showing no external sign of her breaking heart. Had it really come to this? Had she failed her people? She refused to let those questions fester in her mind. No, she had not failed, for the day was not over, the fight was not over. She came from Coruscant triumphant, winning support for Naboo from the grasps of the Senate. Her people were paying the price for her victory in the Core, but she was here to stop that. ”œCaptain Panaka,”

Interesting. Two pieces of advice. 1. Show it, don't tell it. You do a lot of Anakin thinking "Ow, I'm in pain!" But what is that doing to him? It's not really real to me because all I get is the words "pain" and "fire" and "burning." 2. Connected to 1, get on all the senses. Pretty much, I felt I had a little bit of what he physically feels, very little of what he sees. No smell, no taste, very little hearing. This is an intense scene, and you need to bring the reader in with all five senses. Hell, six: the Force. And, I'd just chop out the "Ow" even making it shorter is still pretty corny, imo.

Well, this is obviously up to Aryian, but I think that if someone wants a political debate (I'm assuming that's what you want to argue with), they'd take it to a political thread. And if not, and you want to argue with something the author is personally feeling...well, I guess take that to PM, cuz I don't think it'd be respectful to publicly de-rate someone. (Not that I think you'd do that, LAP, but just making it clear for anyone.) But still, Charlie's got the final word, imo. Anyway, Darkfire, good stuff again. You're having thoughts that I've never had to deal with.

Yeah, those scenes were difficult for me to write for a couple reasons, one of them being that Qui-Gon is my favorite character. The second is to perhaps keep a veil over the eyes of the audience that aren't familiar with the Palpatine being Sidious plotline. Qui-Gon had to assume it was Dooku and Dooku's thoughts had to imply that it probably was. But go back and read it again. Was it really Dooku? Anyway, here's your Obi-Wan reaction section. Poor guy. *** Obi-Wan Kenobi had lived his entire life in the confines and protection of the Jedi Temple. When he'd gone out into the chaotic world of Coruscant or the further chaotic world of the galaxy, he'd been under the wings of his Master Qui-Gon Jinn. For as long as he could remember, he'd aspired to the moment he would be promoted to Jedi Knight, to the moment he would be an independent being, a tool of peace and justice in the galaxy. Never before had he wanted to hold onto his status of Padawan like now. Now he sat in the basement of the Jedi Temple, in the infirmary, deeper underground even than the libraries. He sat by the motionless body of Qui-Gon Jinn, searching for physical signs of life. The man did not stir. Yes, Obi-Wan could feel his Master in the Force, clinging hazily to life despite the prison of unconsciousness, but an immobile Master could not accompany his Padawan into the large galaxy. And though Obi-Wan had spent a significant amount of time here in the belly of the Temple ”“ probably two or three days, though he hadn't been keeping track ”“ he knew he would have to leave eventually. And who would accompany him then? He knew he was on the verge of Knightship. Would the Council grant him that sacred rank immediately or give him an interim Master? Would his progress be stalled as they waited for Qui-Gon to come to? As if graduating from child to adult didn't come with enough questions, now Obi-Wan was drowning in insecurity. He had shed tears. He had spoken to his Master, yelled at him, all without results. Currently he was attempting to interact with Qui-Gon via the Force. He could feel the man's presence working as hard as if he was hiking up a mountain or speaking with a Senator on some important issue. He knew his Master was alive and active, yet he could not seem to catch the man's attention. He wanted to sigh in frustration, to give up. But what else did he have to do? Life seemed so aimless without a Master's guidance. A new presence arrived in the Force, wise and comforting. Obi-Wan recognized Master Yoda immediately, yet didn't turn around to greet the ancient being. Though part of him hoped that Yoda could magically make things better or to at least say something that might distract him from his loneliness, most of him simply wanted to be left alone, to drown in his pity for eternity. ”œDifficult it is to lose a loved one,”

Aerec was stuffed with the wonderful food and was feeling the blood running from his head to his stomach. That was a new sensation in the Force. Previously, he'd just felt tired, but now, thanks to the Force, he could feel hints of his body's motions. Yup, it was time for a food coma. Darex's prodding through the Force synced up perfectly with that. He knew he should thank Skye for the food, but he wasn't entirely sure he had the energy to open his mouth and produce the words. Hey! I'll just do it through the Force! he decided excitedly. Skye, he said, concentrating on her. Awesome meal! Really, thanks. I think I'm gonna pass out it was so good. With that, he heaved himself out of his seat and nodded to Darex. "Well, I'm gonna go unconscious now. It was nice meeting you, Fynn. Darla, thanks for everything. Master, well...we'll talk tomorrow. Skye, beauty, healing abilities, and can cook. I think I have a crush. Goodnight, everyone." He walked, well stumbled, out of the room and crashed on the nearest couch he could fine. ((And woke up in the space thread or somewhere else...hopefully. ))

Was that the most amazing compliment I've ever gotten for a fanfic? Quite possibly. Wow, thanks. Stover's one of my favorite authors.... ***Chapter Twenty There he was, an outsider looking into the place he'd for most of his life called home. He stood over the body of a former student, comrade, and friend. The body, not dead but in a deep coma, was stretched to its fullest on a hovering gurney. The man was peaceful in his sleep, a sleep which had been induced by a violent thrust in the Force. Dooku knew he was in the throes of a dream, yet he could not keep his heart from racing as if it was real life. It had been real life, not too long ago. He could not stop this dream from recurring, though, no matter what Force-utilizing techniques he called to him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that scene over and over again. Cloaking himself in the Force, the former Jedi had successfully sneaked into the Jedi Temple. He'd stood meters away from the dozing Knight on guard, sliding Qui-Gon Jinn's unconscious body on its floating bed to a place where on-duty Jedi would surely find it once Dooku had left. Yet it was not the risk of being discovered that made his heart thump. It was the emotion. It was the notion that perhaps he had been wrong to leave this place, this Order, after all. Perhaps he'd fallen. The dream seemed to want him to admit that it was not really ideological differences that had driven him away from the Jedi, but instead that it had been his bitterness at Windu and Yoda, their continual rejection of his way of living, his way of challenging the norm. In a way that only the reality of a dream could, he saw the day he'd renounced the Jedi Order meld with the night upon which he'd returned Qui-Gon's body. The media droids swarmed around, dozens of unidentifiable Jedi in hooded robes stood behind, as Dooku spoke. It had been a sad moment for him, a moment where that sadness and all the emotion had been utterly suppressed. He should have been used to it by then; the Jedi were always suppressing emotion for clearer judgment. In the dream, he spoke with Qui-Gon's body beside him, as if in support. Yet the irony of his comatose apprentice at his side as he renounced the Jedi was not lost on Dooku. The two events were connected, he knew. If he had not turned away from Yoda that day, Qui-Gon Jinn would not be in his present state. Dooku exerted control over himself in the dream with great effort. No, he forced the word into audible form, though he was the only being that could hear it. No, I am not mistaken. I am not lost. After all, I spared Qui-Gon his life. He should be dead now. The thought of killing his promising apprentice, his one-time friend, had been too much for Dooku. Against, perhaps, his better and clearer judgment, he'd assured that Qui-Gon would live, though he would be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life. His mind still functioned. The Jedi Master would still have thoughts when he came out of this coma. But a Jedi Master who could not move or speak was almost as useful as a dead Jedi Master. But Dooku did not allow that thought to formulate in his mind. Instead he woke himself. He couldn't stand to see the dream again. And there were more pressing issues to take care of. He'd planned to be awake soon in any case. His wakefulness found him no longer on Coruscant, but in his personal space-faring yacht, careening through hyperspace. He roused himself out of bed, enjoyed a cleansing sani-steam, dressed, ate a full breakfast, and went to his study to peruse the HoloNet. As he had expected, the news was completely dominated by the newly passed Military Creation Act. Clips of various senators praising or condemning the Senate's controversial vote flooded the multiple screens Dooku observed. Over and over again, the young Queen Amidala of Naboo's speech was played, as she rebuked the Senate for its failure to the galaxy. News from the Jedi Temple remained suspiciously silent. Were they reeling from the appearance of Qui-Gon's incapacitated body? Or did they simply not have a stance on the Senate's new measures as they hadn't for the months it had been in debate? That mattered little. There was nothing the HoloNet was telling him that he hadn't already predicted and prepared for. That made his job easier. The pieces were falling into place. ”œDroid,”

Love ^that song. This thing is so...human. Man, even though I'm a writer, I don't think I could journal this honestly, this authentically. I wish I could. I'd definitely reading all of this. You're causing a lot of new thoughts, which is awesome. I love what this thing can be for Jnet and for the FanFic community, too. I think it'd be awesome if more people started doing this sort of thing. It'd bring us together. Maybe I'll start one someday. Right now, my life is so crazy that I don't want to throw y'all into the middle of it. But maybe that'd make it more interesting...hmm.

Haha, thanks guys. Sorry it took me so long to post again. Had a long weekend. That first pic you posted is the reason I wrote this scene, probably the reason I made Aayla Kit's apprentice. It's such a great image. Anyway, update! *** Coruscant's public transportation was always busy. The seats on the repulor-trains were rarely empty, and usually there were plenty of beings standing and holding the safety bars above their heads as the trains swept through the city in their own skylines, unobstructed by the rest of Coruscant's speeder traffic. But there were specific rush hours and Qui-Gon gauged that he was coming in on the tail end of this evening's. The sun set behind the towering spires of the city to the west, an orange glow taking the sky, adding a strange serenity to the chaotic hustle and bustle of the city-world. The controversial Jedi Master was one of the few that utilized Coruscant's public transportation, though every Jedi and every being who worked at the Jedi Temple was provided with a free pass for as long as they stayed employed with the Jedi. Qui-Gon chuckled, remembering that Dooku had never been one of the rare ones to take public transport. Perhaps that was why it was so easy for him to leave the Order, Jinn mused comically. It was always a bit of a risk getting on the train as far as the attitudes of the others in transit. Often times, there was a bitter anti-Jedi sentiment on Coruscant, depending on what stance the Jedi ideals led them to take. Sometimes, though, if a Jedi had done some heroic act that drew media attention, there was a positive attitude on the trains. Currently, Qui-Gon assessed it was neutral, as he got mixed reactions via the Force as he entered the train with his telling Jedi robes. That was surprising considering all the controversy in the galaxy currently. But the Jedi had stayed quiet on the Military Creation Act and so the public had probably put the Jedi in the backs of their minds. One young boy sitting next to his mother did jump up and offer Qui-Gon a seat. ”œHere, sit, Master Jedi!”

This is awesome, my friend. I'll be reading.

***Chapter Nineteen Wet and cold seemed to be the theme of Kamino. Kit Fisto didn't so much mind the wet, but the cold he could have done without. Aayla Secura, however, didn't like either. It was just short of a miracle that she was covering up her blue skinned body with a full Jedi robe to keep warm. Kit wasn't sure he'd seen her utilize the full Jedi robes since she'd turned sixteen. Their time spent lost in the rain didn't seem to help anything, of course. They knew where they wanted to go, they just didn't have any idea how to get there. There was fishy business taking place under Kamino's watery surface and Jango Fett was somehow connected to it. The problem was that no one was supposed to have any business under Kamino's watery surface, so it wasn't like the two Jedi could just hop on public transportation and get to the secretly submerged facilities. They'd finally resolved to see if there were any fishing operations operating out of Tipoca City. It hadn't taken much digging to find out that there were plenty such endeavors run by the lower class population of non-Kaminoans. But by the time they'd figured that out, they'd already been wandering around in and out of the rain for a few hours. In need of rest, they returned to their shuttle and hoped that the next day's weather would be more pleasant. Riding on the back of a flying cetacean aiwha that served as transport between Tipoca City's platforms was not pleasant in general, and the constant rain made it all the worse. But, as Kit and Aayla exited their ship into the morning, they discovered it to be almost as dark and at least as rainy as when they'd gone to sleep eight hours ago. Kit made no visible reaction to the disappointing weather, but he heard Aayla sigh heavily and turned to see her wrapping herself tightly in her brown Jedi robes. Kit was about to do the same when a hunch from the Force told him to ignite his lightsaber. In a moment of déjà vu red blaster bolts were bouncing of Kit's green lightsaber blade. He looked off into the distance to see the outline of Jango Fett ascending into the dark sky on the power of jet packs. Apparently the Jedi were a little too hot on his trail. As opposed to their battle on Coruscant, though, the bounty hunter was not blasting away from the Jedi Master. He was coming towards them, firing blaster bolts relentlessly. Aayla's blue blade had joined Kit's in their defense, but the Jedi Master's danger sense told him that no amount of lightsabers would stop the small rocket that Fett had just launched at them from the top of his jet pack. Sending a pulse of urgency to his apprentice, he dove as far to the side as possible and put up a bubble of protective Force-energy around him. Despite his efforts, he still felt the heat and some of the force of the blast that obliterated the Jedi shuttle. Slightly dazed, it took him a moment to realize that Aayla's Force-signature had gone silent. It hadn't winked out as it would if she had died, but she was undoubtedly unconscious. Time slowed as Kit Fisto went into full battle mode. He saw Jango Fett flying directly towards him, blasters blaring. He saw Aayla's limp body being hurled by the force of the explosion over the edge of the platform. He saw himself jolted into action, deflecting blaster bolts towards his assailant and leaping over the flaming carcass of his ship to watch a shrinking image of his apprentice splash into the ocean many meters below. He saw the ocean approaching at a furious pace. Kit Fisto had accelerated his dive past the rate of free fall and as he splashed into the ocean, it was as if the full eleven meter wingspan of an aiwha had just dived into the depths after its dinner. Kit, however, did not see that massive splash. He only saw the limp body of his apprentice drifting deeper into the dark ocean. Though it was drifting deeper, it was not getting smaller. The Jedi Master was propelling himself not only with his limbs, but with great exertions from the Force, through the water, closer and closer to Aayla Secura. Nautolans being an amphibian species, Kit Fisto did not worry about lack of oxygen. Not for himself, at least. His lungs were full of the stuff that meant life to most humanoid species and the instant he reached the drowning Twi'lek and wrapper her in his arms, he covered her mouth with his and filled her with air. She remained unconscious, but at least her brain wouldn't shut down from lack of the proper resources. His one breath wouldn't last her too long, though, and he knew it. With as much fervor and almost as much speed as he had pierced the water coming down, he burst towards the surface, unconscious Padawan in his arms. There were many sights more welcoming than the hovering image of a fully armored Mandalorian bounty hunter hovering on fiery jet pack propulsion and aiming a pair of deadly and sleek blasters at you. He could save himself and dive under the water again, but that would leave unconscious Aayla at the hands of the bounty hunter. Abandoning an apprentice was simply not an option for a Jedi Master. ”œYou're mine, Jedi,”

So I FINALLY have been able to write something on this. This one probably isn't well proofed so I'll have to go back and make some changes, but I felt bad for promising more and not delivering, so here's a fairly raw product. Enjoy. Three Letters Currently, I am attempting to compose a letter. A few minutes ago, I received another letter. I have to tell the story that leads up to that letter to find the courage to write this new letter. I am unsure I will have that courage. The war has spanned for two years now, and we have yet to see a battle inside the Mid Rim. While that may be comfortable for those of us on Coruscant and those of us with family on other Core Worlds, we are still losing badly. The Sith have gotten into our heads, and we haven't been able to muster up any hope on the front lines to counter it. A few months ago, a bill came into the Senate that seemed to hold a potential solution to that: a galaxy wide draft. Our shipyards have the capacity to produce plenty of capital ships, but we simply didn't have the hands to crew them all. So, plenty of materials and building docks had been going to waste since the start of the war, whilst the Sith took system after system in the outer rim. It was no surprise to me that the delegation from Bothan Space put forth articles introducing the draft as soon as the enemy position was within striking distance. And it was also no surprise that the Senate was split right down the middle on the issue. Outer Rim worlds were all for it, Core Worlds were all against it, and the Mid Rim was split, depending on where the Sith had appeared last. Those of us that were safe from immediate danger didn't dare send our sons and daughters to the front lines. Well, that seemed rather selfish to me, and so I decided to come out in favor of the bill. "People of the galaxy," I said on the steps to the Senate, camera droids all around, "this is not a time to fear, but a time to come together to defend our brothers and sisters in harms way. Yes, the concept of a temporary draft is a frightening one, but what the draft's opponents don't tell you is the details. Only ten percent of the eligible men and women will be drafted into the service. The majority will not. "So, while you fear for your sons and daughters, you needn't. For our strength will only grow with this act. And while the lives of a few may be at risk, they will be bravely defending the lives of trillions. "Let the Sith never get to Coruscant, Corellia, and Commenor! Let the Sith never reach Bothawui and Kothlis. Let us drive them back from Bandomeer and forever protect Borleias. Let us leave no system behind, no planet unprotected, no people abandoned! "I, like many of you, have a son that may be drafted. But on that unlikely day, I will salute him proudly, knowing that his selfless service will help bring the galaxy together in strength and fortitude. So, let us raise the flags of the galaxy and drive back this force of darkness that we might never have to risk our sons and daughters again!" My wife slapped me as soon as I got home that evening. There were tears in her eyes, tears of fear and betrayal. I tried to calm her, to tell he everything would be all right. And I believed it, too. I believed it even though on Corellia they were calling for my resignation and worse. Even though my home city of Coronet was one of the many Core cities erupting with riots, I still believed in my decision. The bill passed by a narrow margin due to a large portion of Mid Rim and Colony region votes. I remained the sole Core World Senator in favor, but I knew I had done my job though I had stood alone. Supreme Commander Jent and Minister of Defense Barr predicted that with the new hands to crew the new hulls, we would push the Sith back strictly to the Outer Rim in a month. If that was the case, only one wave of draftees would be needed. It wasn't the case. The Sith continued to gain holds in the Outer Rim, though we were able to halt their progress closer to the Core. Though a few initial victories had let us temporarily sigh in relief, Coronet continued to riot. Those riots intensified when a second draft wave was announced. Once again my speech was played over and over on the HoloNets, painting me as more villainous than any Sith. I would've been outraged if it hadn't been for a letter. This letter preceded the two letters of which I've already spoken. And it was addressed to my son. "You can't let them take him!" my wife cried, slamming her fists into my chest while I half-heartedly tried to restrain them. "Put a stop to this! Stop it now! Stop it now!" She screamed until she could only sob, and she sobbed until all she could do was collapse at my feet. I did not have the strength to hold her up. I did try to follow her wishes. I went to every level of draft officials in the military, personally and through aides. I did not care to hide my actions at first, for I would not accept defeat. "Admiral Jent," I found myself saying in the Supreme Commander's office, "I would request a favor of you." I was attempting to hold my composure, attempting to keep my dignity. Yet every cell in my body was shaking with frustration and helplessness. "I believe my voting record has proven that I am a friend to the Military. I voted for your appointment to Supreme Commander, as well as your promotion to Vice Admiral and full Admiral. I've supported every Military Funding legislation in my fifteen years as the Senator from Corellia, before and since the outbreak of this war. And my lone and controversial stance among the Core Worlds in favor of the draft has enabled you and your men to give us a fighting chance in the Mid Rim and to ensure the safety of the Core. Admiral, I do not think it is a stretch to say that I am politically and personally your friend. And I have one simple request--" "Stop right there," the Supreme Commander said, putting up a hand and speaking with the authority of a leader. "Senator Locke, I must say I find your actions disgraceful. Just a few months ago you said you would be proud of your son if he was drafted. You called on every parent in the Core -- in the galaxy! -- to be proud of the selfless sacrifice of those who would be drafted. And now, after weeks of me hearing reports of you attempting to beg and bribe draft personnel on the HoloNets, even seeing recorded footage of you yelling personally at Lieutenants and Sergeants! Now after all that, I see you come in here and beg me for a favor, well I must say I'm ashamed of you. I do think we're friends, Theo, and as a friend, I have to tell you that you're being a hypocrite. Maybe you're not watching the H-Nets, but the rest of the galaxy is, and boy are you making yourself and the rest of the Senate look bad. Heroes are dying, Theo, on the battlefield and at home. You did something courageous supporting that bill, but now you're just being a hypocritical coward. The people can't see men like you crumble down on themselves. You need to apologize, Theo, to everyone." I could not find a way around his words, though I did try. When I left that office, I knew he was right, and again I addressed the galaxy via camera droid. "People of the galaxy, I come to you once again and ask for your courage. But first, I must ask for your forgiveness. As you know, I am experiencing what millions of parents are experiencing. I must say, the difficulty is beyond what I could've imagined. "However, knowing what I know now, I would not reverse my vote on the instatement of a draft. This is why I am asking for your courage, now that I truly know what I am asking for. "Though it is difficult, I do stand proudly with my son, and I will celebrate wildly when he returns to Corellia a war hero. When all of our sons and daughters return home war heroes. Though it has come with enormous hardship, both societal and personal, the tides of this war are turning. Thank you." As I spoke every word, I knew that I was not delivering it with the fervor and conviction of my previous speech. My wife did not slap me when I returned home that night. She did not speak to me. We have spoken little since that day. And on this day, a letter has arrived. My wife was not home when I received it, nor has she yet returned home. "Dear Senator Aritheo Locke and Mrs. Zara Locke," the letter read. "We regret to inform you that your son, Jakob Locke, was killed on the field of battle...." I did not read the whole letter. I did not need to. The small piece of flimsi still lies on the floor where I dropped it in disbelief, just inside our front door. Now I begin to compose my own letter. "Dear Supreme Chancellor Ibrim Staphouse, I hereby resign from my position as Senator from Corellia...."

So, I know I misspelled midichloriens, but I'm pretty consistent with the misspelings....lol, so ignore those mistakes. *** Qui-Gon Jinn had been too enthralled with his studies to notice his apprentice come up behind him in the depths of the Jedi Library. It had probably taken the apprentice a few minutes to locate him in the mazes of banks of computers and books, even if he was guided by the Force. Nonetheless, Obi-Wan's words came as a surprise to the Jedi Master. ”œBoth Anakin and I have stood before the Council.”

Overwhelmed was a word that could have described Aerec's feelings at many times over the past couple days. This was no exception. However, as emotions began to settle and Darla's words rang clearly in his ears, he was not only overwhelmed with negativity and confusion. Rather, through the mental trial, he felt comfort radiating from all the Jedi present. Though still recovering from the emotional onslaught, and still processing all of the pieces of advice that had been thrown at him, he was...coping. "Yes, food sounds good," Aerec said, attempting a smile, though the exhaustion within caused it to be half the wide smile he usually gave. "And when are we going to leave this place? I feel like I could grow tentacles or something." Despite his half-hearted attempt at humor, Aerec really did want to leave Yavin. Though upon arrival, it had been a planet of life and excitement, now it represented confusion and emotion. No deep sigh could wash away the new weight on his shoulder, though he exhaled many as they ate. And once again, he longed to be at his brother's side, in times that, though tough, were simple. But he could still remember how hard Darla had squeezed his hand. That, more than anyone else's words, spoke volumes.

You do all right. I've only gotten the courage to RP opposite my gender once, and that was short-lived. I think it's much more difficult than just writing a female character because you have to really think it through with every post to remain authentic. Yet you're posting on an almost daily, on-going basis. Writing Padme or Aayla, I was more able to sit back and think and craft the situation or scene. But in the RP, it's open to much more and needs prompt responses. Anyway, speaking of writing... ***Chapter Eighteen The problem with a world covered completely in water was that any above-surface area was a construct of the civilization. And the problem with that was that every square meter of that construction above the water had a very specific purpose. Essentially, Kit Fisto had no place to hide his ship. When he and Aayla had broken their orbit and started fighting their way through Kamino's storm clouds, the local port authorities had been furious. The two Jedi had happily ignored the complaints raging over the comm unit, assuming they would be able to come up with some place to put down where their transport wouldn't be easily found. But Tipoca City, as Kit was now discovering strafing back and forth over it, was not at all known for its open spaces. Besides the spaceports, every inch of solid ground was covered in buildings, most of them elegant spires rising to the sky. Landing on top of any of the buildings would not go unnoticed and even if it did, it would never be a safe place for the ship to stay. How embarrassing would it be for the Jedi Master if the shuttle the Council had leant him slipped off the roof of a Kaminoan building to splash into the ocean and sink to the bottom of the sea. Kit was about to sigh when Aayla spoke. ”œLook at that,”

Aerec accepted Darla's embrace and let a few more tears drip into her shoulder. But as much as she might have meant her words to be mending, she had still raised some major questions. And there was nothing that could take back the massive emotional wall that had just slammed into Aerec from those he cared about, loved, and respected. The decision he had thought he'd once made would never be so sure in his mind again. Impulsively Aerec broke the embrace and pulled Darla by the hand around a corner, into partial privacy. For a moment, there they stood, Aerec gazing through tear-filled eyes and clenching onto Darla's hand. "Did you mean it? Do you believe it? Could Faust really turn me into all those awful things you said? Just by taking combat training?" Aerec had never questioned that the decision had been his. Darex and Faust had made that clear, and had even been able to work with him to make the situation ever slightly more comfortable. Plus, Aerec was too strong-willed to believe that the choice had ever been out of his hands. But he wasn't sure he could make that choice seeing Darla's reaction, hearing her warnings. Watching how momentarily dark it had made her. In a past life, the one person whom Aerec might defer to was Dante. He couldn't do anything to intentionally hurt Dante, and his older brother's wisdom always seemed a guiding light. Though Aerec's bond with Darla and the Jedi wasn't that strong yet, he didn't want to let his own curiosity to hurt the ones he was coming to love.