A Marine Went to Jedi Camp/Chapter Two

A Marine Went to Jedi Camp

'Chapter Two'

“Ah, Captain Reyolé,” the three-quarter sized holographic image of a middle-aged Bothan said as I entered the Council chambers behind Vrook, who took his usual seat. “I had been hoping for the chance to talk to you!”

“Vice-Admiral Dun'vei,” I acknowledged mechanically as, snapping to attention, I offered him my best salute.

The holographic admiral returned the gesture, his fur rippling, and I stood at ease. “Please, Captain, there's no need for parade-ground formalities. This is merely an informal session to discuss your unique status and what it means for you and your service with the Republic.”

I shook my head, not quite believing the admiral. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the Commandant of the Marine Corps himself doesn't usually dabble in tidying up personnel files.”

“A fair point,” Dun'vei acknowledged. “But as you have already gathered, you are quite the exception, in more ways than one.”

I shot Vrook a glare, which he either missed or ignored. You Jedi play dirty, too, I thought at him. Assuming I don't burn sky, I might just end up liking you... “Yes, Admiral, I've been made aware of the more pertinent facts.”

“Indeed? Am I to assume that you have accepted their offer?”

“Offer, Admiral?” I asked, stalling for time to gather my thoughts and suppress my private outrages. How dare he!

“Captain Reyolé, you have been given an incredible opportunity!” Dun'vei replied, seemingly taken aback. “Given all that you have done in service to the Republic throughout your career, surely you must see the benefit of undergoing Jedi training?”

I took a few moments to mull this over, letting the admiral stew in his own mental juices for a bit. Part of me was, I'll admit, intrigued at having learned of my own Force-sensitivity; it, along with my own curiosity, wanted to at least give the Jedi the benefit of the doubt, if only this one time. Another part wanted to reject the offer out of hand, to denounce the Jedi as manipulators and insist on being assigned to a line unit. The two sides warred with each other for a few moments before their struggle was torn asunder by the viridian blade of General Vima Sunrider&mdash;the only Jedi I had ever trusted.

“To be honest, Admiral, I'm conflicted.” I answered, finally admitting to the core truth of the matter. “I've been dead for almost a year and a half, and I'm still coming to terms with that. I have yet to learn why Revan wanted me resurrected, and now it looks as though the answer to that question will be forever lost. While I am humbled, even intrigued, by their offer, I don't know that I am cut out to be a Jedi. Not enough trust there, I think.”

The holographic admiral was silent for several moments, his fur rippling to and fro as he drummed a finger against his jawline. “I understand, of course, Captain,” Dun'vei said, his voice pensive. “You should realize, however, that the Jedi can help to guide you toward understanding in this matter.” He paused, and his thoughtful look was replaced by a predatory grin. “Failing that, I can always assign you to Dantooine as head of its garrison.”

My heart sank. “Very well, Admiral, you win,” I sighed, turning to face the Council. “When do we start, O Great and Wise Masters?”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

Ten minutes later, I was back in my quarters, taking the first of the seven datapads that had been given to me from its place on the shelf. Flicking it on, I began scrolling through its contents, which turned out to be a fairly detailed History of the Jedi Order. For the next several hours I took in the information like a sponge, hoping for some sort of context that might help to assuage my lingering trust issues. The Masters had accepted my rather impertinent acceptance with remarkable grace, considering that I'd have been hopping mad if I'd been given similar cheek by a shave-tailed ensign. This must come with the territory, I thought to myself as I read about the First Great Schism. Being blessed with such abilities, one has to learn how to be moderate of spirit lest they take control of you.

I'd seen my share of fellow Marines laid low not just by war, but by their own bravado. One of my platoon sergeants during the war with the Mandalorians, who had been a crack shot with a repeating blaster, had gotten sloppy during one engagement. Yelling his head off, he had mounted the parapet we were defending, spraying blasterfire in waves at the oncoming assault troops, only to be cut down by a sniper shot that had hit him right in the left eyepiece of his helmet. As if that weren't enough, his erratic fire had caused the attacking Mandos to start using sense, which had made our job that much more difficult. We'd held the line that day, but barely.

Digging my head out from the past, I paused the datapad and tossed it aside, running my hands over my face in a yawn. I had only been up for about half a day, but I was already tired, which was odd considering the amount of sleep I'd had. Idly wondering whether I was being subjected to some trick of the Force, I stood up, stretched, and exited my room. The common area was beginning to fill up, with the cluster's other occupants taking seats on various scattered chairs or else kneeling in meditation. It was only then that I recognized that I'd been put in an all-female cluster, and that I was easily twice as old as its next-eldest member, a Twi'lek whose green skin flushed as she caught sight of me. The other women&mdash;well, girls, if you wanted to get technical&mdash;began to notice me as well; they started to talk amongst themselves, and even the pair of meditating humans came back to the here and now to shoot quizzical looks at me.

Deciding that I didn't care to be subjected to such scrutiny, harmless and well-intentioned though it might be, I wordlessly exited the cluster and made my way back to the mess hall for some lunch. This time, fortunately, there were enough Jedi present that my appearance would not be readily noticed. Drawing attention to myself had never been one of my goals in life, a feeling that had been reinforced multiple times over during my Marine career. Oh, I certainly knew how to get people to notice me when I needed to, but that wasn't the point; here, I was just another initiate, starting her first day on the job. As I heaped food onto my plate, I silently congratulated myself on having become a noob all over again.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

The next several days passed in a haze as I worked my way through the datapads, learning the history of the Order, its traditions and protocols, as well as some basic Force-related philosophy and theory. It soon became readily apparent that, as the oldest person in my residential cluster, I was expected to take responsibility for its five other occupants, despite the fact that each of them were far more advanced in their studies and abilities. Though I was used to taking charge when the occasion called for it, doing so was still somewhat disconcerting when I had to keep in mind that even the youngest of my charges could knock me to the floor with a single thought if they so chose.

Most of my time was spent reading, though I'd begun to move out of my solitude and into the common area. The other residents, apprentices all, spent most of their days off with their own Masters, “learning by doing” as one of the philosophical texts had described it. As an initiate, I was comfortable with the idea of staying put and learning how not to make a complete ass of myself in front of some of the strongest Force-users in the galaxy, in addition to playing mom to the other apprentices. After having progressed through all seven datapads, I began to access the terminal at my desk, intending to shake it down for any information on recent Jedi history.

QUERY?

I typed in the name “Vima Sunrider,” then initiated a search.

VIMA SUNRIDER: RANK: JEDI MASTER; AGE: FORTY-TWO; CURRENT STATUS: EXILED FROM JEDI ORDER; CURRENT LOCATION: UNKNOWN, BELIEVED TO HAVE LEFT REPUBLIC SPACE. FURTHER QUERY?

Something inside me imploded as I read the computer's response. I typed in a followup query, asking it why she had been exiled.

INFORMATION CLASSIFIED “COUNCIL EYES ONLY” BY UNANIMOUS VOTE OF JEDI HIGH COUNCIL. YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER, INITIATE.

If I had been any other woman, if I had not been a highly-trained and -experienced Marine who knew that part of the key to survival in battle was mastery of one's emotions, I probably would have smashed the terminal then and there, consequences be damned. That aside, I was in a towering rage, my grudging acceptance of the Jedi ripped to shreds and lit on fire. Standing up so quickly that I knocked my chair flying, I whipped around, intent on storming the Council chambers to demand an explanation for this atrocity. However, I had barely reached the door when I was intercepted by the youngest girl in the cluster, a Togruta youngling about thirteen Standard years old. “Is there something you need, Jedi Aewa?” I asked, managing to keep my temper from showing.

“Master Vrook wishes to see you in the number twelve training room, Jedi Reyolé,” she answered, smiling up at me.

“Thank you, Aewa,” I replied, my voice breaking slightly. The girl seemed not to notice, however, as she whirled about and trotted back into the common area, where she began tinkering with some kind of small training aid. I closed my eyes for a moment, then held my forehead in my palm, trying and failing to stop the roaring headache that was blooming there. Get a move on, Laera! my better judgment screamed; it took more effort than it should have, but I managed to put one foot in front of the other a sufficient number of times to reach the room where Vrook lurked, which was open.

“So, you've finally finished reading,” he said as I entered.

“Now is not a good time, Master Vrook,” I warned. I was on the knife-edge of losing it, I knew; at this point, the last thing I wanted was to start going off half-cocked in front of the man who was, apparently, to be my own Master.

To his credit, the man seemed to recognize my disquiet. “What troubles you, Jedi Reyolé? You must become free of emotional distractions if we are to begin the training.”

I took a few deep breaths, buying time to think of the right words to say. “Do you remember what I said that first evening, when Master Zhar proposed to train me, about having only ever trusted one Jedi?” Vrook nodded, his expression unreadable. “Well, it turns out that you exiled that very same Jedi. Does the name 'Sunrider' ring a bell?”

“There have been several Jedi with that name,” Vrook replied, his tone neutral. “Nomi, who led the Council, her husband Andur, and their daughter, Vima.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he did not. “Then you know that&mdash;”

“It is now painfully obvious, Jedi Reyolé,” he interrupted harshly. “You placed your trust in one who is now no longer a Jedi. I will not discuss the circumstances, and you will not inquire further.”

I instantly bristled at this treatment; though I was a raw rookie in the ways of the Force, I was not a child. This ill-tempered old man, who really wasn't that much older than me, was treating me as though I were a rebellious teenager demanding an increase in pocket credits. “You see, this is why I never trusted your kind,” I seethed. “Secrets upon secrets, keeping yourselves aloof, and not bothering to own up and do your jobs when the Republic needed you!”

Vrook just stood there, mute and inscrutable.

“So that's why you tossed her out, is it?” I asked, guessing wildly. “You threw out the only Jedi I ever trusted, the only one who ever truly cared about the soldiers she commanded, just because she did what you could not? Simply because she possessed more courage than the entire High Council, and brought the fight to the Mandalorians?”

Again, the Jedi Master remained silent, unreadable.

“I'm obviously angry, Master Vrook,” I hissed, trying to get him to say something, anything. “You can't train someone who is angry, right? So why not save us both a lot of time and trouble and tell me the real reason why you want to train a thirty-eight year-old woman when, clearly, I'm far too old for this fierfek!”

The room descended into silence as I waited for a reply, a silence that stretched on and on. Looking into that impenetrable gaze, I felt my anger slowly ebbing away. It became excruciatingly clear that I wasn't going to get anything more out of this man, even if I held a blaster to his temple and threatened to pull the trigger. After what seemed like a full Standard hour, I finally looked at the floor, hanging my head in defeat. By way of reply, the Jedi Master assumed a meditative posture, gesturing for me to do the same. With a snort that lacked any sort of vehemence, I joined him.

“I know you won't forget this, Jedi Reyolé,” he said, his voice calm. “Even if your anger has abated for now, that much is plain. In the meantime, close your eyes, and focus your mind on the sound of my voice.”

Doing as instructed, I did my best to focus.

“Look inside yourself,” Vrook began, his voice slow and infused with an undercurrent that I found hypnotic. “Look not with your eyes, but with your mind. Feel your mind, your sense, within yourself. Touch your mind with your mind, encapsulate yourself within yourself...”

Following the currents of his voice, I began to feel my body from within. Muscles that had been tense with anger only minutes before began to relax in the gentle embrace of my mind's eye. Soon, I began to feel a tingling sensation; at first it was confined to an area near the base of my skill, but it began to radiate outward as Vrook continued to speak, repeating his last sentence several more times.

“...and finally, awaken to the Force!”

An explosion of awareness surged through my body and the immediate area surrounding me. In that moment, I could name the exact number of skin pores I possessed, and how many were clogged; I knew exactly how many hairs grew atop my head, the number of blood cells of all types that flowed through my circulatory system. Gradually, the heightened sense subsided, and I was left feeling almost hollow, as though I'd expended an enormous amount of energy in a very short time. My eyes fluttered open, and to my utter consternation, it was to see Vrook smiling.

“You wanted to know the real reason why we wanted to train you,” he said, nodding. “You have just experienced it.”

“It was...it was incredible,” I almost-babbled. “Was I always able to do that?”

“Under the right circumstances, yes,” the Jedi Master replied. “You...are an interesting case, in several ways. It is very difficult to train one as old as you; a sentient being's thought processes are, typically, too set in their ways to accept such teachings. The older the student, the more the student has to unlearn before they can truly learn.”

“What makes me different?” I inquired, allowing the happiness I'd felt during that moment of supreme self-awareness to show.

Vrook was silent for a few moments. “Your mental discipline, for one,” he said, stroking his jaw in thought. “I cannot recall anyone having trained an initiate who was once a soldier. I suspect that, because you are conditioned to readily accept new data and incorporate it into your understanding of, say, a battlefield problem, you are also able to accept and incorporate new data about yourself. No offense, but even a Padawan would probably be able to make you think your hair was blonde.”

That actually drew a laugh out of me. “Surely there are ways to block such unfriendly mental assaults,” I said with a chuckle.

“Indeed there are, but first you must learn the basics,” Vrook replied, his tone all business. “I accept you as my Padawan learner, provided you are willing to accept me as your Jedi Master.”

“I am,” I replied solemnly.

“Then the bond between master and apprentice is sealed. Go and rest, Jedi Reyolé. May you find peace in the Force.”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

During the weeks that followed, Master Vrook and I worked together to further open my connection to the Force. After the first few days of training, I was able to hold the meditative state of supreme self-awareness for longer and longer, reveling in the utter miracle of life that was my body. With help, I was even able to pinpoint the cybernetics that had been used to jump-start my resurrection; I couldn't feel them, but by sensing where within my body the energy of life was not, I could discern their outlines. After the first week, Master Vrook determined that I was ready to begin sensing other life, to extend my awareness beyond my own physical self.

This turned out to be easier said than done. Even as we moved our joint meditations into the courtyard, I ran into a sort of block; it almost felt as though a durasteel wall slammed down on my connection to the Force as soon as I attempted to extend it outward. Attempting to compensate by taking my training in another direction, Master Vrook began lessons in basic telekinesis, but to no avail. Though I could feel myself with increasing ease with every meditation, the instant I made the effort to stretch out toward some other object, the connection slammed shut.

“It's like teaching a gundark to tap-dance, training you,” he bit out after yet another morning of fruitless attempts.

“You're the one who insisted on teaching me this stuff, Master,” I replied with a smirk. “Maybe I'm not that special after all!”

Master Vrook then looked at me, a scowl on his face. “Return to your quarters at once and begin composing a summary of the Hundred Year Darkness, to include your opinion on how things could have been handled differently. Have it ready by tomorrow.”

I almost, almost laughed in his face at the thought of such a punishment. In the Marines, if I were a recruit who had mouthed-off to her drill instructor in such a fashion, I'd have been lucky not to have been socked in the face right then and there, before being ordered to make a five mile forced-march in full armor and pack. Smiling inwardly and thinking that the disgruntled Jedi Master simply wanted a reason to send me away, I obeyed instantly, arriving at my quarters with a spring in my step. Taking down the appropriate history datapad, I called up the entry for the Hundred Year Darkness. I had read it once before, of course; the period was a reference to the Second Great Schism, which had started some two thousand Standard years ago and lasted for the following century. A cadre of Jedi had fallen to the dark side of the Force, and had created legions of monsters to fight the Republic and Jedi Order. The insurrection was eventually defeated, at great cost, and the surviving “Dark Jedi” were expelled from Republic space. Discoveries made in recent years, however, pointed toward these exiles becoming the original Dark Lords of the Sith, whose descendants would attack the Republic once again during the Great Hyperspace War. Opinions on this aspect varied, however, and concrete evidence linking the exiled ones to the Sith from Korriban was scant, and so it continued to be a hot topic among Jedi chroniclers and professors of history.

After having found my angle for the punishment essay, I shut down the datapad, returned it to the shelf, and drew a piece of flimsiplast and a writing stylus from the desk drawer. Taking a seat on the mat opposite my bed, I began to write, but the stylus never reached the flimsi...

''Flashes of memories flickered before my mind's eye, but they were not ordinary recollections. Infused with smell, taste and touch as well as sight and sound, they were truer than any holographic record, more intense than any dream. I could feel the sun of Agamar on my skin as I looked upon the original home of my family, before it had been blown open by concussion bombs. I could smell the freshly-cut grass, hear the chirping of native birds, taste the subtle tang of clean, crisp air in the wake of a recent rainstorm. I recognized this memory, and with a flicker of will, switched it over for another one. I could feel the armor as it shielded my body, hear the conversations and footsteps of marching Marines, taste and smell the fumes from all manner of sources. I had been here once before, both in flesh and in spirit, though in the latter form all that had been present were the sights. Now, I could hear myself as I shouted orders to my platoon, could feel the sense of momentary claustrophobia as I donned my helmet and activated its systems, and recall what this mission had been about...my first drop as an officer. I sent out another flicker of will, bringing up another memory, this one of my hometown after the Krath raid. Sunshine was replaced with oily smoke, the scent of greenery overpowered by the odor of burning debris; this memory, too, had been revisited in spirit...while I was dead, sitting on an operating table. I exerted my will once more, to bring up another, more pleasant memory, but it was suddenly hijacked, and instead of witnessing the promotion to full commander given to me by Malak himself, I saw once again that apparition I had gleamed on the journey from Revan's fleet to Dantooine...the dream of warships consumed by a greasy black tide before jumping to lightspeed, bound for parts unknowable.''

“...you hear me? Laera, are you okay?”

The words, accompanied by a gentle rapping at the door that sequestered my room from the common area, brought me out of my reverie. With a jolt, I looked at my chronometer; I'd been stuck reliving death dreams for a full eighteen hours. No doubt Master Vrook was looking for me and my essay...

“I'm fine, Aewa,” I answered, after having gotten up and opened the door. “What's going&mdash;wait, when did you start glowing orange-yellow?”