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| - Having chosen my path within the Jedi Order, I began to train with Master Zhar Lestin, the red-skinned Twi'lek who sat on the Enclave Council along with Masters Vrook, Vandar and Dorak. He took me through a series of exercises designed to test my proficiency with the Shii-Cho form, after which he announced that I was “good enough to proceed further.” For the next month, we worked together in exploring the other forms of lightsaber combat; I eventually figured out that I favored a two-fold style that incorporated the defensive katas and parries of Form III, called Soresu, with the powerful strikes and counterattacks of Form V, known as Shien. The combination of styles seemed logical enough to me, since as a Marine I could be called upon at any time to either defend a world under attack, or liberate a planet that had been conquered, often switching from an offensive to a defensive orientation any number of times along the way. I soon discovered that Makashi held little appeal to me, as it seemed to be useful only against opponents who were also armed with lightsabers. Ataru was too flashy in my opinion, and it lacked the power that I knew my highly-trained body could deliver to devastating effect. Niman, a balancing-act that incorporated elements from all the other forms, was a weak option, while Juyo, the aggressive form, was far too wild and reckless for my taste, which seemed ironic when I recalled that Master Vrook had referred to me in just that way not that long ago. I was happy with the third and fifth forms because they seemed to mesh with my own approach to melee combat, honed through my years of experience as a Marine: keep the enemy at bay long enough to find an opening, then strike fast and with every erg of energy. Even as I continued to learn more about the traditions and philosophies of the Order, I spent another month practicing the basics of Soresu and Shien, and how best to combine them, before Master Zhar set me up against a succession of apprentices in mock bouts intended to test our skills against one another. My first two duels were against Belaya and Juhani, respectively, and despite their superior experience in their own chosen forms, I ended up defeating them rather handily. They were polite about it, of course, as was I; no one wanted to get too worked-up over such friendly contests. They were, after all, intended to be learning experiences for everyone involved, including the younger apprentices, who would gather around the duel circle's edge to watch. In the week that followed, I extended my duel winning streak to eight, having faced some of the best apprentice-level swordsbeings at the enclave. Each match had been different, and each had held unique challenges, and at least three of my opponents had very nearly triumphed. The last bout, in which I faced off against a talented Ataru-user named Dak Vesser, was overseen as usual by Master Zhar, but he was joined that time by my own Master, who watched with an interested eye. As the Twi'lek Jedi Master signaled the beginning of the match, Dak immediately leaped forward in an acrobatic sidespin, his violet blade weaving a spiral through the air as he flew toward me. Ducking, I rolled out of range of his attack, coming up on his flank and swiping at his knees in a downward Shien counterstroke. Dak jumped the riposte, spinning in midair and sending a flurry of jabs at me, which I picked off as I backed up into a Soresu kata. I let the young, dark-skinned Jedi back me toward the edge of the ring, making him think he was winning, before I interrupted his offensive with a powerful uppercut that locked his blade high overhead. The two of us pressed for advantage over the saber lock, but it soon became clear that I was the stronger fighter. I continued to push his blade down toward his face, eventually using my leverage to break the lock and snap a quick jab that tagged Dak in the center of his chest. The resulting shock caused him to stumble and drop his lightsaber, which switched off as it fell. Extinguishing my own blade, I knelt down to help him up, but he waved me away with an angry gesture. As I backed off, I caught a glimpse of Juhani, who was shaking her head at Dak's behavior, her aura prickling with sympathy and irritation. I partly expected Master Vrook to be angry with me for having done so well, despite my sporting attitude. To my surprise, he was smiling—a very rare thing for him to do—and, after taking me aside as the audience broke up, he announced that he would then begin training me personally, using real weapons. Though the idea gave me some pause initially, I was determined to acquit myself well against the veteran Master, though at the same time, I was in awe of what he could do. After practicing for a week together, we had our first—and only—exhibition duel in that very same arena. This would prove to be the most memorable fight I would engage in while at the enclave... — — — "Are both combatants ready?" asked Master Zhar, who was once again serving as referee. By way of answer, both I and Master Vrook ignited our blades, saluting one another by bringing the tips up to hover near our temples. "The contest begins now," the Twi'lek announced, stepping back to the edge of the ring. Master Vrook and I began to pace the circle's edge, sizing each other up. Through my earlier bouts, I had learned that, sometimes, Jedi liked to open these sorts of matches not with any technique of the lightsaber, but instead by calling upon the Force itself in some manner. Keeping my senses keen, I began to rotate my weapon in the classic Soresu defense even as Master Vrook held his verdant blade vertically, the hilt slack in his hands. For what seemed like a solid hour, we stared into each other. Finally, and for the first time, I took the initiative, advancing rapidly even as I increased the speed of my blade's spin. With a flick of my wrist, I snapped the blade out and down from the height of its arc, intending for Master Vrook to catch the powerful Shien stroke on his own blade. However, with astonishing speed, the Jedi Master side-slipped the attack, so that it missed by a meter. The elder Jedi immediately launched into a precisely-measured counterattack, forcing me back into the middle of the circle. He sent a quick jab at my midsection, which I parried wide to my right. I slashed back in a follow-up crosscut that locked the two blades together, with both of us pushing for the advantage. "Running in with a shield before you isn't the way to take your opponent by surprise," Master Vrook admonished, grunting slightly as the blades hissed and spat as they ground against one another. "If you must attack, it must be with a clear goal and purpose." I took in this advice with one part of my mind as the rest concentrated on levering the locked sabers away. I was surprised to learn that we were almost equal in strength, which meant that I had to find a way to break the stalemate before my opponent came to the same conclusion and seized the offensive. "That's how it was with the Mandalorians," I shot back. "When going head-to-head with them, you had to bring a really big shield, along with a can-opener." With every ounce of strength that I possessed, I concentrated on the spot where Master Vrook's green blade intersected with the borrowed yellow lightsaber I was wielding, pushing harder and harder, until his blade slowly began to turn to the left. Shifting tack at lightspeed, I whirled my entire body away from the grappling contest, sweeping my blade in a broad arc in the opposite direction, catching Master Vrook's weapon on its other side even as he began to recover from the suddenness of the reversal. To his own great surprise, the backhand blow nearly knocked the weapon from his hand, forcing him to back off. I recognized then that this particular Jedi Master favored the Niman form, which was probably the sole reason why he hadn't been able to overpower me during the saber lock. Throwing myself fully into Shien, I began to rain blows upon Master Vrook's defenses, driving him back toward the edge of the ring and defeat. He responded by mustering a reserve of Force power that I hadn't even known existed, and I found myself flying through the air toward the other side. Dimly aware that I had been subjected to the classic response of a cornered Force-user, I tucked into a shoulder roll, coming up on one knee scant few centimeters short of the edge, my weapon held in my off-hand and pointed to the side. I looked up from the floor to see that Master Vrook, who was still standing, had not moved, his weapon held at a downward angle. "The match is a draw," Master Lestin announced, entering the ring and using the Force to collect my borrowed weapon, extinguishing the blade as it flew toward him. I smiled inwardly satisfied with my performance during the duel. Master Vrook, however, was scowling. "You...are dangerous," he said reprovingly, his tone and sense in the Force broadcasting irritation. "I cannot recall ever having been pushed so far by a student. You should be aware that, had we been dueling as enemies, I could have deprived you of your hand, your arm, or your leg. You must never take for granted the nature of your opponent." "As you say, Master," I responded humbly, my head bowed. — — — I arrived back at the dormitory cluster to find that the other girls and young women were huddled by the door, waiting for my return. As I entered, all five of them began chanting loudly. “Gunny Reyolé! Gunny Reyolé! Gunny Reyolé!” “Alright, alright, that's enough,” I admonished, though the effect was ruined by my own laughter. I couldn't help myself—the ridiculousness of the apprentices cheering me on had caught me off-guard. Eventually, the gaggle of students dispersed and resumed their daily activities, but Aewa insisted on rehashing the match with me. “You did great, Gunny,” she said, giggling a little. “I'd never thought that an apprentice could fight a Jedi Master to a standstill like that!” “It wasn't as easy as it looked, kid,” I assured her, smiling and shaking my head. “I think the only reason that I did so well was that Master Vrook is a Consular Jedi, while I'm following the Guardian path, mixed with a bit of Sentinel. I don't think I could have knocked him off his feet the way he'd done to me.” “But still, you got back up, and inside the ring!” Aewa insisted. “That's got to count for something, right?” “Sure does, kid,” I said. “It counts as a draw instead of a loss. Even so, I think we all learned something.” Later that evening, after getting a quick bite to eat from the mess hall, I did some light reading in preparation for an exercise to take place the following afternoon. Masters Vrook and Zhar had arranged for a number of volunteers from the nearby farming communities to visit the enclave the following afternoon, where they would offer their services as learning aids for the apprentices. The object was to provide the students with the opportunity to practice using the Force to probe another's thoughts. Since I was already well-versed in this subject due to my natural affinity for Sense Aura, which was augmented by my empathic sensitivity and life experience, I was to attempt some more difficult powers. Affect Mind, or what most folks simply referred to as “Jedi mind tricks,” was what I'd be concentrating on developing. The idea behind it was to use the Force to help in making another being agree with one's own point of view or objective, or else to do things that they ordinarily wouldn't do, such as deactivating a force cage or providing the entry code for a locked door. I knew that overuse of this kind of technique, as well as its more powerful variant (called Dominate Mind, which was off-limits to apprentices), was to invite the dark side into one's self, but there were simpler applications as well. For instance, while infiltrating a military base, I could make a patrolling trooper think that she had seen or heard something off in the distance in the direction that I wanted her to go, leaving a path open for me to sneak by. Oh, how useful that would have been back on Onderon, I thought ruefully to myself as I continued reading. Though Master Vrook was hesitant to allow it, Master Zhar had also wanted me to attempt Alter Mind at least once, in case Sense Aura proved to be a gateway ability that allowed me to access higher-tier mental powers more readily. In the end, the two Jedi Masters had agreed to let me try, and so I read up on the theory behind it prior to turning in for the night. — — — “Just relax, Miss Sandral,” I said to the dark-skinned young woman who sat on the opposite side of the small, private table out in the enclave's courtyard. “Close your eyes, and try to empty your mind of thoughts.” “Yes, ma'am,” she replied, nodding and doing as instructed. Her aura, the color of melon, was a spiky sort of current that oscillated about her like a groundquake recorder. As she followed my advice, I noticed that the peaks and valleys relaxed slightly, and I began to match my own sense with that of hers. She was the second volunteer I'd seen thus far; despite the fact that she was visibly nervous, I could sense that she was determined to be a good assistant. Flowing into the Force, I teased my way into her thought patterns, which offered little resistance, and began the process of making her think that the red farmer's dress she wore was in fact yellow. After a few short minutes of gentle manipulation, I carefully backed myself out from her thoughts, though I maintained a few strands of connection in order to hold the image I wanted her to see. “Alright, Miss Sandral, please open your eyes.” Her lids fluttered open, and she began looking at herself. She gazed at me with shock as she realized that her red dress was no longer red, but then she smiled. “You know, I think I like this color better on me,” she said. “Unfortunately, it's only temporary,” I said, letting the connection go. “Ah, damn,” the young woman said in mock disappointment as she realized that her dress had gone back to its original hue. “Well, I suppose Dad wouldn't mind buying me a new dress in that color.” “Would you feel comfortable with another try?” I asked, smiling at her remark. We had been encouraged to solicit the volunteers for as long as they were willing to put themselves up for practice, and this had only been the first time I'd made contact with Rahasia Sandral. My first volunteer, a middle-aged businessman from Garang who regularly visited these events to prove that his mind was unreadable, had taken only two mental interfaces to prove how wrong and arrogant he had been in his claims. First, I'd made him agree that Dantooine was quite a populous world, and would need to do something to control the population lest something terrible happen to the native ecology. The second time, I'd succeeded in making him think that a young kath hound was sitting on his lap. That had made him jump, and he'd left the event in high dudgeon. But Rahasia was still game. “Yes, that would be interesting,” she agreed, again closing her eyes and relaxing her mind. Once again, I made the mental connections, making sure to be gentle about it. This time, however, I delved a little deeper into her mind, implanting an image of herself as a Rutian Twi'lek, complete with lekku, headscarf, and wrappings, though she still wore the same dress. The process took a bit longer, particularly since I forced myself to avoid causing any possible discomfort to my partner. After five minutes of mental work, I withdrew myself; this time, though, I had to maintain a stronger connection to make the image stick. The young woman opened her eyes when I touched her outstretched hand, and again looked herself over. This time, the effect was more palpable, and she burst out laughing. “Oh, but this is no good at all,” she said after finally calming down long enough. “This shade of red doesn't work at all with this blue skin color! Still, the head-tails are a nice touch.” Joining in the mirth, I withdrew the connection once again, letting the image fade. “Well, I think that's enough for now, Miss Sandral,” I said, not wanting to put Rahasia through too much mental manipulation. “If you still want to participate, I'm sure some of the other apprentices would be willing to attempt a reading of your sense.” “I'll do that, thanks,” the young woman replied. “I really enjoyed seeing myself as a Twi'lek, though, that was a riot!” Smiling, she got up from her bench and began to wander about the courtyard, eventually settling opposite Aewa. Still chuckling a little, I began to walk amongst the people gathered around, watching the other apprentices as they practiced their abilities in the Force. Occasionally, I was able to catch glimpses of various mental conversations between apprentices and their volunteers, more than once picking up on the frustration from a student as he or she failed to make contact. Most of the apprentices, however, were able to achieve some measure of success by the end of the event, and the volunteers gradually trickled back to their own homes. After Rahasia Sandral, though, I had taken no further attempts, and returned to the enclave to report my results to Masters Vrook and Zhar, who were both suitably impressed by my efforts. “Quite an eventful afternoon for everyone involved,” the Twi'lek remarked with a satisfied smile. “Was it really necessary to spook Mr. Lusoff like that?” Master Vrook asked, the vehemence in his voice ruined somewhat by the slight smirk he wore. “I doubt he'll be coming back here, at least, which is actually a relief. He was making my life difficult enough as it was without his having apprentices bursting into tears.” “It was my pleasure to help, Master Vrook,” I said, bending over in a theatrical bow. “In any case, I'm fairly tired, so I'd like to turn in early.” “Of course,” Master Zhar replied, smiling. “Learning these abilities can sometimes be taxing.” “You should know, however, that Affect and Alter Mind become much more difficult when the target is unfamiliar, hostile, or distant,” Master Vrook advised. “You will understand if I ask you not to practice these aspects while you are here.” “I understand,” I replied with a nod. “We have a similar saying in the Marines: just because you can bomb a planet into slag doesn't mean you should, or that it is the best course of action. Goodnight, Masters.” — — — Despite my early bedtime, I awoke later than usual the next morning, feeling decidedly unrested. Groggily, I dressed, only realizing that I had accidentally donned my armor's black body glove after I had reached down to zip it closed. Part of me recoiled in horror at having made such a silly mistake, but the rest of me either laughed at my own stupidity, or chalked it up to some subconscious desire to do...something different. After staring down at myself for several minutes of increasingly frustrating silence, I flippantly began tacking on the individual plates that comprised my Republic-issue Marine battle armor. Unlike the red, blue and gold armored uniforms worn by regular Army soldiers and officers, Marine armor was white with red and black trim, and emblazoned with the Marines' crest in gold on each shoulder. It was thicker and heavier, too, but more effective, and it contained more extensive plating that provided better overall coverage; the suit as a whole was actually on par with the armor worn by the average Mandalorian line trooper, which is saying something. After hitching the last of the straps and snapping on my utility belt, I pulled my DL-3 and its holster from where I kept it in my desk and snapped it onto the belt as well. I ended up wasting another minute or so deciding whether or not to clip on my training lightsaber, finally choosing to go all out and hitching it to myself alongside my sidearm. Smiling cheekily at my helmet, I decided to leave it sitting on my desk as I left the dormitory (which was, thankfully, empty save for me) and strode toward the mess hall. The weight of the armor felt good on me, grounding my sense in a way, and I began to recall some of the more pleasant moments from my years of service. Several Jedi stared at me as I passed them, but I paid them no heed. The dining area, too, was empty, save for three Jedi—I couldn't help but grin when I recognized that they were in fact the very same human, Bothan and Falleen trio that I'd encountered at the start of my first full day at the enclave. As I collected a plateful of food, I made sure to make myself known to them, smiling like a drunken Gran as I sat down at a different table and began to eat, oblivious to the clicking noises caused by the movement of my armor's numerous plates. Once again, the three men stared at me, but this time I didn't bother to inquire after their intentions. Until, that was, I began to pick up the subtle tang of the reptilian's notorious pheromones. “D'you mind capping that?” I asked Fezor, arching a brow in his direction. “It's spoiling my breakfast.” Startled, the Falleen bolted down the rest of his food and beat a hasty retreat as his fellows did the same. Men! I thought furiously to myself, resolving to return for my helmet before I went outside to begin practicing for the day. At least it had olfactory filters, though they were intended to block out poisonous gases and other airborne hazards, usually caused by enemy munitions. I managed to finish eating most of the platter before giving up and putting it into the recycler and returning the plate to the cleanup section. It hit me then that this was the first meal at the enclave that I didn't finish, and that made the feeling that something wasn't quite right, which had been present as I had risen from sleep, become more acute. A minute later, however, such thoughts were swept aside by the sudden presence of Master Vrook. “Going somewhere, Jedi Reyolé?” he asked tartly. “Just a minor mixup, sir—I mean, Master,” I said, shaking my head in embarrassment. What is wrong with you today, Laera? Master Vrook looked me over, taking in my attire from armored boots to shoulder pads, his brow arched in frank curiosity. “And what prompted you to don this...suit...today?” “Just a feeling,” I said in a would-be casual fashion. “Well, your feeling seems to be quite astute this morning,” he replied gruffly. “I've got a 'mission' for you, and that getup you've got there might just mean the difference between success and death—a permanent death, I might add.” “Yes, Master?” I asked, dumbstruck. Vrook Lamar, I had learned through the course of my training, was not the kind of person who made these types of pronouncements without just cause. For him to be sending me out to do something that could just as easily kill me—again—was not like him at all. “There is a cave near the Sandral estate,” he began, striding back and forth before me. “The end chamber is filled with crystals that can be used in the creation of lightsabers. Your task is to enter this cave and retrieve for yourself a focusing crystal and come back here, where you will begin the meditations necessary to commence constructing your own personal weapon.” I knew a mission briefing when I heard one, and I didn't waste time trying to wrap my head around this particular assignment. “Threat assessment, sir?” I asked, snapping to attention without thinking. “Heavy,” he replied, not missing a beat. “The cave is infested with kinrath, a species of insectoids that are highly territorial and very aggressive.” “Any other intel?” “None,” Master Vrook said with mundane finality. “And you'll not need those.” Before I could react, he had yanked my sidearm and training saber free of their mountings—the latter, of course, being useless anyway—and caught them, tucking them into his own belt. Understanding what he had in mind, I fired off a crisp salute before returning to my quarters to collect my helmet.
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