A Marine Went to Jedi Camp/Chapter One

A Marine Went to Jedi Camp

'Chapter One'

I watched as the packet transport lifted off, waving one last goodbye to its solitary occupant, the pilot who had ferried me here. The ship's repulsorlifts whined as it continued to gain height; eventually, its ion engines kicked in, propelling it out of sight. With a sigh, I walked out of the Garang Spaceport landing facility, running a hand through my short, auburn hair before donning my cap and continuing through the terminal. Doing my best to maintain an air of professional detachment, I climbed into the back of the landspeeder that was waiting for me.

Dantooine wasn't really a bad place; it was actually rather similar to my own homeworld of Agamar. Both planets had an abundance of arable land, but while the former was almost exclusively grassland and savannas, the latter possessed large forests of evenly-spaced binka trees. Both were relatively young; while Dantooine had been settled long enough to attract the establishment of a Jedi training enclave, Agamar had only been colonized a few years prior to Exar Kun's insurrection. My folks had been among the first to settle there; Dad had been a manager in the multi-sector agricultural conglomerate which had first scouted the world, while Mom had worked as his executive assistant before the two had fallen in love and gotten married. In addition, both planets had small populations spread out over large areas, which greatly appealed to me after having been cooped up for so long aboard warships, constantly bumping elbows with soldiers, crewers, pilots and droids.

I laughed to myself at the irony of it all. Here I was, a dead Marine reborn, stranded on a backwater rock that was so close in appearance to the world of my birth that it almost ached. Not exactly how I had pictured spending my time after the war. Still, it was better than the alternative&mdash;even if I didn't quite understand what that alternative would have entailed. Flashes of what I had experienced still cropped up now and again; every so often a stray memory would cause me to involuntarily flex a muscle or two to make sure they were still working. This was not helped by the familiar-looking sights of Dantooine's countryside as they flickered by the speeder's transparisteel windows.

As the vehicle continued its trek from the spaceport to the Jedi enclave, I took the time to consider the current situation. Revan's fleet had gone missing without a trace, leaving behind no indications of where they had gone, and Commander Onasi&mdash;who was probably the closest thing to a friend I had at this point&mdash;had been recalled to Coruscant, “with all possible haste” to try and explain what might have gone wrong. Oh yes, and it turns out that I'm Force-sensitive.

The emotional numbness that had first greeted the previous evening's pronouncement by Jedi Master Vrook Lamar now gone, I started laughing so hard that my stomach soon began to cramp up. Now, I'm nobody's fool, despite being a first-gen colony kid from some Outer Rim dirtball; Marine service tends to be pretty brutal in its assessment of one's capabilities and talents. I know what the Force is, and have witnessed its power firsthand on many occasions while fighting the Mandalorians. But I had never really trusted those who wielded it; those who called themselves peacekeepers and defenders of justice. Their idea of justice, as Dad had explained it once, had been to get rid of those who didn't agree with their own doctrine in a way that made it look as though they were just 'keeping the peace.' I could understand his point of view; when I was two, we had lost nearly everything when a Krath supply raid had targeted my hometown, nearly flattening it in the process. The Jedi-led relief force, which had arrived too late to stop them, had been unwilling to help repair the damage, and so my family and I had been forced to rebuild our lives almost from scratch. I supposed that it could have been worse&mdash;indeed, life seems to be full of such suppositions&mdash;because most of the town's residents had been spared in the attack, including my family.

It was because of the raid that I had enlisted in the Republic military at the earliest permissible age&mdash;sixteen, with joint parental consent. It was not out of patriotism or any thirst for revenge that I had joined up; the attack had occurred much too early in my life to have left much of an impression. Rather, it was because the armed forces of the Republic paid well. The Marines in particular received something like fifteen percent more in base pay alone, plus there were ample opportunities to earn hazardous-duty and even combat bonuses. The training had been arduous, and on more than one occasion I had found myself wondering what the kriff I was even trying to prove, but I'd managed to grind it out and earn a place in one of the galaxy's most elite fighting forces. Though my pay went almost exclusively to my folks back on Agamar, the Republic Marines eventually became my true family, their motto of Semper Fidelis, which roughly translates to “always loyal” in Old Corellian, became my personal creed.

And I regretted none of it. Not even the dying part.

The landspeeder slowed to a halt in front of the enclave's southern entrance, bringing me out of my introspection. I suspected that Master Lamar's offer to stay there until the Republic could ascertain my status was more than just him being generous, particularly in light of his assessment of my hitherto unknown abilities, but the fact remained that I didn't really have anywhere else to go. Garang had a few low-rent hostels that seemed nice enough, but without any ready credits, it was a no-go. Because of some bureaucratic SNAKU&mdash;situation normal, all karked up&mdash;regarding my final orders, I couldn't go back Coreward with Commander Onasi either.

Still, the enclave itself looked homey enough. The architecture of the place was simple, but elegent: large courtyards that surrounded a complex of interconnected buildings that housed everything from dormitories and training rooms to a pair of fully-functional landing pads for small shuttles or low-stock freighters. Taking all this in as I extricated myself and my duffel bag from the landspeeder, I dimly wondered what fate awaited me inside. Well, no sense dilly-dallying, Laera, I thought to myself, taking a deep breath. Might as well go on in and see what the Jedi want.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

“Captain Reyolé, welcome,” a jug-eared apprentice said cheerily as I entered the enclave. The tow-headed youth, who looked as though he was barely old enough to access the HoloNet without the safeties, smiled eagerly as he took in my appearance. Unconsciously blushing, I remembered that I hadn't been able to get any laundry done after the long hyperspace trip, but that usually wasn't a problem for the Marine-issue green-gray-brown mottled battle-dress uniform I wore. Though they were designed to appear relatively neat and clean despite extensive wear in the field, I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious walking into such an auspicious and important place in a frumpy set of BDUs.

The gestures of the youngster, who was beckoning for my duffel, brought me out of my reverie. “I'll take that to your room for you, ma'am,” he piped up as I met his earnest gaze. “The Council was hoping to meet with you before you settled in.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, kid,” I replied woodenly, handing over my gear without really paying attention. “Where is this Council you mentioned?”

“Over that way,” the apprentice pointed. “Take the next right and then left, it's the big circular room with the open roof.”

“Thank you,” I replied. The youth sketched a bow before scampering off with my duffel, which looked almost as big as he was. Heartened by the absurdness of such a small kid carrying such an overlarge load, I strode deeper into the enclave, finding the indicated chamber without much trouble. It was as he had described; large and round, it was bathed in natural sunlight from the center of the ceiling, which was open to the elements. The floor was sunken in the middle, with a row of chairs arranged along the edge on the far side; four of them were presently occupied, two humans, a Twi'lek, and a member of a diminutive species that I'd never seen before sat in close proximity. This, I guessed, had to be the Council of Jedi that the youngster had referred to.

“Greetings, Captain Reyolé,” Master Vrook said, standing as I entered the sunken portion of the chamber. He was joined by the other human, a dark-skinned man who looked older than my father, and a Lethan Twi'lek, whose red countenance reminded me of a rather nasty sunburn I'd once gotten. The shrimp in their midst, however, remained seated. “It was good of you to accept our offer.”

“Thank you for extending it, Master Jedi,” I replied, somewhat stiffly as I stood at attention.

“Before we get you settled in, however, the Council wishes to discuss something with you,” the elder Jedi continued. “To my left is Master Zhar,” he said, pointing to the Twi'lek. “To my right are Masters Vandar and Dorak,” he indicated, gesturing toward the small Jedi and the other human in turn. “You remember, of course, what we discussed the previous evening?”

“Yes, I do,” I said with a nod. Good guess, Laera!

The other human, Dorak, spoke up then, his tone scholarly but not aloof. “We are aware of the circumstances surrounding your life and, to a certain extent, your death and subsequent resurrection. What intrigues us most is your connection to the Force, and how it may have been affected by your ordeal.”

“The Force is life, as well as death,” Master Vandar said, his voice high, nasally and raspy. “The two are as interconnected as anything else in the universe. You are strong in the Force, but it seems that this strength has only recently made itself manifest.”

“With the Force, many things are possible,” Master Zhar chimed in, his voice low but fatherly, after a fashion. “You are a disciplined warrior, dedicated to the Republic. We are considering you for Jedi training.”

My attention not fully allocated toward the four-part harmony of Force-inspired philosophical yammering, the Twi'lek's last words caught me blindsided. Realizing that my jaw had dropped several centimeters, I hastily closed it and regarded the Council with something that was intended to be a scowl, but from the nods all four of them were giving me, it was clear they could see right through my facade.

“You do not trust us, that much is clear,” Master Lamar said frankly. “But you trusted those Jedi who fought beside you against the Mandalorians, despite the fact that they did so against the wishes of the Order. Be mindful of&mdash;”

“Excuse me, Master Jedi,” I interrupted, my voice spiked with sudden anger, “but you are wrong. I fought alongside the Revanchists, but I never fully trusted any of them, except for one. I'm a Marine, sir, trained to fight the enemies of the Republic, of civilization itself, no matter who leads me into battle!”

A thunderous silence descended upon the chamber as the Masters exchanged glances. My heart thudded in my ears as I struggled to regain my composure, shocked at my own words and the heat with which they had been shot out. Realizing that my hands had balled into fists, I determinedly unclenched them, instead clasping them behind my back as I forced myself to calm down.

“Perhaps we have put too much pressure upon you, Captain,” Master Vandar said at last. “Please accept our apologies.”

“This is a lot to take in at once,” Master Dorak suggested. “Would you care to get some rest? An apprentice will show you the way to your quarters...”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

The same youth who had greeted me upon my arrival showed me to the single-occupancy that had been arranged in the enclave's sublevel. As I followed him, I watched as other Jedi, who all wore some variation on the homespun tunic and robes I'd always associated with their kind, went about their business. Some of the older ones nodded at me as we passed, while the rest, for the most part, ignored me. As my guide led me into the lower floor, a mixed-species gaggle of kids even younger than he was were playing a game of some sort, which to me looked like a variation of knee-sack but without the use of knees. Telekinetic fun, I thought ruefully to myself. Is that what they're going to try and teach me?

The quarters I had been given lay at the far end of one of the long corridors. My room, along with five others, were arranged in a rough hemisphere around a small common area. Though I would have preferred the one closest to the door to this cluster, I ended up with the one whose entrance directly opened onto the egress from the corridor to the center space. This meant that, unless I kept my own door sealed, I would have virtually no privacy. And in a place like this, sealing myself off from the others will look like I've got something to hide, I thought. Perhaps the only saving grace was that the room itself was somewhat larger than what I was used to; aboard a warship, even a company or battalion commander couldn't expect to get much space aside from a bunk and a small desk terminal.

As I entered my quarters, the tow-headed apprentice sketched another bow and beat an awe-struck retreat. Not caring what tales the kid might tell of the “high-ranking Marine officer” he had escorted, I promptly slammed the door actuator and pounced on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable. It wasn't long before sheer mental exhaustion overtook me, ceasing all thoughts.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

When I awoke, I had to check my chronometer three times before finally accepting the fact that I had slept for a full twenty-four Standard hours. Despite the shock, I felt extremely rested, as though I'd finally sloughed off a hundred-kilo suit of armor that had been encasing me for weeks on end. Sitting up and easing my legs over the side of the bed, I stretched, taking in my surroundings as I did so. The walls were tiled in muted gray and red hexagons, while the floor was covered in red squares. On the floor across from the bed was a padded mat that I supposed must be for meditation or training purposes. Along the wall opposite the entrance was a small chair and desk, which included a small computer terminal; above it, a small shelf had been grafted to the wall. I noticed that it had been stocked with datapads.

Getting up, I rummaged through my duffel for another set of BDUs, but gave it up as a bad job after realizing that all three sets I owned were just as filthy as the ones I'd slept in. It was at that point that I noticed the brown parcel that had been left on the desk chair, which had been pulled aside so that the gift faced me. Oh no, I thought after opening it. They don't mess around with this stuff, do they? Disgusted with the fact that my only options were to run around this place either in full battle armor, full dress reds, or this tunic and robe getup, I finally gave in and went native. The cloth itched like nothing I'd ever experienced, and the heavy overrobe was hot and oppressive, but at least I wouldn't have knee-high initiates gawking at me as though I had stepped out of a war holodrama.

Deciding not to unpack the duffel just yet, I left it to lean against my bed as I sat, now fully robed, at the small desk. Out of curiosity, I punched up the terminal and attempted to get a layout of the enclave. The computer was kind enough to oblige without too much coaxing, and I soon found out where I could get something to eat. Ignoring the seven datapads on the shelf, I switched the terminal back off as my stomach gave a huge grumble.

Thankfully, the enclave didn't follow military protocols, and served its inhabitants whenever they were hungry, though the menu was understandably limited to native-grown or -raised foodstuffs. When I arrived at the sublevel mess hall after having visited the refresher, it was empty save for a trio of diners. A human, a Bothan, and a Falleen, all of whom were male and clad in the ubiquitous Jedi robes, were engaged in a heated philosophical debate even as they ate their meals. After obtaining as large a portion as I dared from the communal self-service area, I parked my rear on a bench close to them. “Morning,” I mumbled distractedly before shoveling a heaping forkful of nerf-and-kidney pudding into my mouth.

Though relatively plain, the food was delicious, but I hadn't gotten two chews in before it dawned on me that the nearby conversation had come to a screeching halt. Chewing furiously and finally managing to swallow the mouthful, I shot a glare in their direction. “Problem, gentlemen?” I asked none-too-politely.

“No, ma'am,” the Falleen replied, shaking his head in a would-be casual way that fooled no one.

“Well, that's not exactly true,” the Bothan interjected, cocking a furry thumb at his reptilian friend. “Fezor here isn't used to the sudden appearance of females he doesn't already know, particularly mammals.”

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes at the trio. The human, wisely in my opinion, was keeping silent, his attention directed firmly toward his own meal. To the extent that I could read the cues, I guessed that the two aliens, like their companion, were in their mid to late twenties, though I had no idea where in the Order's rank structure they were placed. Though I'd fought beside Jedi, and even gotten to know a few during the war, that didn't mean I had any clue as to how the Order itself worked. Hazarding a guess, I marked them down as newly-minted Knights. “Well Fezor,” I said, extending a hand toward him, “my name is Laera Reyolé, a humble Marine and guest of this fine facility.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am,” the Falleen Jedi replied with a nod. “We welcome you to our table.”

“Thanks, I think,” I said, returning to my food after having scooted a few seats away to give the men their privacy.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

After having gorged myself on Jedi cuisine, I left the mess hall, making my way toward the courtyard so I could get in some good old fashioned physical training to get my mind back in focus. After twenty-two years in the service, a person gets used to certain routines; for me, working up a sweat was the best way to start off a new day, particularly when that day seemed as though it would be the first of many spent in the same location. Garrison-living, I called it, which applied whether or not such living was spent in an on-planet base or aboard a warship. Upon exiting the building, however, I soon realized how truly out-of-whack my sense of timing had become. Instead of the sunrise I had been expecting, the skies overhead were midnight black and spangled with stars. Nevermind that now, I thought to myself as I picked out a semi-secluded place to exercise. Just get your head on straight, and you can go from there...

Shucking my overrobe and placing it neatly upon a nearby stone, I began running through the standard Marine PT protocols; stretches, then pushups, situps, and spring-leaps, intermixed with place-running and quick-drop/quick-stand routines. As I began to sweat with the effort, I noticed that the itching caused by my garments' fabric had begun to subside, which was as good a start as any. Having finished the PT run-through, I began to jog a circuit around the courtyard perimeter; unfortunately, I hadn't gone thirty meters before an all-too-familiar voice called through the night. “Captain Reyolé, a word with you?”

Shaking my head ruefully as I blew an exasperated sigh, I did an about-face and jogged back toward the dimly-lit form of Vrook Lamar. “Something I can do for you, sir?” I asked, trying to sound polite, though I knew that “sir” wasn't the “proper” way to greet a Jedi.

“There is,” he replied, apparently ignoring the slight cheek. “I had hoped, now that you are properly rested and fed, that you might be open to further discussions of your future.”

Why am I not surprised, I thought to myself. “May as well, since there's not really anything else for me to do,” I said, walking back to retrieve my overrobe. “You Jedi aren't as subtle as you like to think you are.”

“Subtlety was not my intention,” Vrook retorted. “You Marines aren't as serious as you claim to be.”

“Like you would know,” I shot back, slinging my overrobe over my left shoulder and trotting back toward the Jedi Master. “When was the last time you met a Marine?”

“Eighteen Standard months ago,” Vrook said darkly. “A man named Thedus Bimm had been sent to Coruscant for treatment after having suffered severe wounds at Jaga's Cluster. I oversaw the Jedi healers' efforts to restore his mind as well as his body.”

That brought me up short, and I could sense that Vrook had known that it would, too.

“Ah, yes, that's right,” he continued on, driving the vibroblade deeper into my heart. “You two served in the same company during the war, if I'm not mistaken. Was he a friend of yours?”

“Damn you,” I growled. “Alright, you've made your point. Where do we go to 'discuss' this cluster-knock of a future you want to rope me into?”

“Follow me,” Vrook replied, unperturbed.