Casualties

Master and Apprentice is a short story by Ocarina451, written on a whim and some good ideas to celebrate the arrival of the Earth year 2020 AD. Unrelated to the canon novel by Claudia Gray, the story centers around two Jedi who have left the Order, an unnamed Togruta Padawan and her half-Zabrak Master.

Summary
The plot goes this way The author refuses to spoil the plot; suffice it to say that the story is set in the time of the Old Republic, around 4000 BBY. And if you can prevent yourself from reading ahead. . . that might be for the best, as the author is hoping to have the story finished by the New Year, and is just publishing half of it right now for no particular reason. So if you're of a type that likes cliffhangers, read on. . . just remember that it's a WIP.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. .."

- Star Wars

Master and Apprentice
The apprentice found her Master at last, sitting in the back of a ground-level cantina, his head on his arms and his arms on the table. He wasn't out cold, but the alcohol in the air around him was enough to make her wince. As she made her way over to the table his grief hit her like a tidal wave.

Master, she thought, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder, letting the Force flow through them both. It's time to go.

The grief wouldn't go away. She felt his despair, and bit her lip to keep silent. ''Mustn't. .. attract. . . attention.'' "Snap out of it," she hissed in his ear, half angry. "Master, this isn't the way."

He mumbled something and lifted his head. The apprentice pulled him upright, almost desperate now. ''Why does he have to go and do this? I can't look after him forever.'' She shook his shoulder, hard, as if trying to get him to wake up. He stood up slowly, planted his feet firmly and rolled his wrists, massaging his neck. A look of shame spread over his face as he looked down at her.

"Sorry," he muttered, slightly more alert now but still awash with grief.

"It's all right." She looked around, and saw a few of the cantina's patrons looking casually in their direction. "It's time to go," she said again. "Come on."

Her Master managed to make it out the door with his inner dignity intact, but once outside he stumbled to his knees and wept in the dust. She didn't have the heart left to reprove him. "I'm sorry," she whispered instead. "But we really have to go home."

"It was those Quarren." He looked up at her, wiping the sleeve of his robe across his tired face. "Why did we have to kill them?"

"They were thieves. Murderers." Her heart began to sink. "Master, we haven't got time for this -"

"I killed them. You killed them. Without mercy."

"It was justice," she snapped, uncomfortable herself but not willing to admit it. "And self-defence. You said so yourself. Don't you remember? . ."

"Can't remember. . . anything," he mumbled dazedly, looking down again. "Leave me, child. Maybe I'll come home. . . on my own. . ."

The apprentice knelt down to look at her Master, but he wouldn't look at her. For one thing, his eyes were closed. She gritted her teeth and pulled him up again, but he was in too deep to stand, and crumpled back against the cantina wall without a sound. Great.

The apprentice glanced around to make sure nobody was watching in the dim street, then lifted him in both arms, using the Force to lighten the burden. The Force is in me, she thought by means of encouragement as she started walking. ''In my master. In everything around us. Master and apprentice.''

She took a step. How many more nights like this will there be? The apprentice took another step and shook her head. ''As many as there are moons around Iego. I'll always look out for him.''

She walked the rest of the way back to their third-level apartment, keeping in the shadows. The two of them had begun to attract more notice than she liked, and the sight of a young Togruta girl carrying an unconscious five-and-a-half-foot Zabrak would be strange enough to grab the attention of even a drunkard at this hour. The apprentice sighed as she approached the apartment complex, remembering the door guards. . . they would still be on duty.

She reached out with the Force, finding their minds - awake and sober. They're always so kriffing useful. She put her Master down, using the Force to keep him upright as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. This shouldn't shock them too much, she thought hopefully.

"Who's there?" one of the guards barked as she approached. The apprentice bit her lip again, splitting her concentration to erase the fear from his mind.

"It's just us," she said mildly, walking through the edge of the pool of light that a streetlamp provided. You don't need to worry, she thought. You know who we are. That part was true enough, as far as it went. And you definitely don't need to pay attention to my uncle here.

"Late night, huh?" the guard said sympathetically. "Need a hand with the door?"

"Thank you," the apprentice muttered, devoting a little more of her concentration to clouding his mind. She stepped back into the shadows as he went to unbar the door. "Thanks," she said again as it swung open, and breezed past him, still supporting her unconscious Master with the Force and her aching shoulder. "You know my uncle. . . late nights are his specialty."

The guards laughed shortly, unsuspicious. . . for now. Later, of course, they might have time to puzzle out the situation and get the feeling that something wasn't quite right, but for now she had been granted a reprieve.

The apprentice uncrossed her fingers as the door swung shut behind them, her head-tails suddenly drooping with exhaustion. She made her way down the corridor and punched in the security code for the door of their apartment, ignoring the smell of Nikto cooking next door and the sound of shouting that filtered through the walls from several rooms away. The apartment's three rooms, at least, made a safe haven in an unforgiving world.

She stepped inside as the door slid open, absently waving it shut behind her. Her Master was still unconscious; she left him on his bed and set herself to something she'd been meaning to do, the calming meditations he'd once taught her. She had a feeling she needed them.

The apprentice shrugged off her hooded robe and tossed it onto her bed, then sat down cross-legged in the middle of the floor and unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, leaning forwards to place it on the floor in front of her. She sat upright and closed her eyes, mapping the room in the Force. A wave of her hand and the lights turned out, leaving her in solitude and moonlit darkness, but with a world of thoughts in her mind.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." She recited the Jedi Code in a whisper, letting the words float in her mind, relaxing as she let go of her emotions.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." She found herself thinking of her Master, her teacher, the one who had brought her out of ignorance. ''How can he help me learn? Look at him now - he's a broken old man, a drunkard.'' The resentful thoughts stung her as soon as they came, and she promptly squashed them flat. He was once better than this, she reminded herself. And I can learn from him still, you know, if only by seeing what not to do.

"There is no passion, there is serenity." If there was anything she was passionate about, it was learning. The apprentice smiled slightly. Calm now.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony." And suddenly she was thinking of the Quarren mercenaries, the dangerous trap her Master and she had stumbled into while following a lead only a few days before. The shooting that started almost immediately, and their lightsabers, twin blades of blue, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting a swath of destruction through the attacking horde. The cauterized ends of severed limbs and tentacles still moving. . . milky eyes clouding over, and panicked ink fogging the air. ..

It was justice. She heard her words. ''You said so yourself. Master. . .''

Guilt seized her. ''I know why he hates himself. He was a killer in the moment, as was I. And neither of us are happy for it.''

"There is no death, there is the Force." The words calmed her, but she was still shaking inside. ''There is no chaos. . . there is no emotion. . .''

Thoughts swirled in the apprentice's mind, and she sorted them out with the Code until she was calm. Then she reached out with the Force and lifted her lightsaber, bringing the hilt up in front of her, pointing the blade emitter at the ceiling. With the Force as her ally, it was easy to activate the blade without moving.

The shaft of blue flame blossomed to its full length, turquoise light the color of the stripes on her head-tails surrounding a white-hot core. She gazed into the light, refocusing herself for several minutes, then switched it off and lowered the hilt to the floor in the sudden darkness.

The apprentice closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.

She turned her head at a sound, and saw her Master sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched. The apprentice got up stiffly and went over, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with bleary eyes.

"It's late," she said simply. "Rest."

Her master said nothing, and she realized that. . . yes, there were tears running down his cheeks. Suddenly his face was buried in the shoulder of her robe, his shoulders shaking, cracked sobs ringing quietly in her ears. The apprentice stood there, one arm around him, hearing her own heartbeat as she let his grief flow into her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Master, I'm sorry. . ."

Hours passed and he had no tears left to shed, but she held him still.

Morning light filtered through the apartment's small window where moonlight had entered the night before. The apprentice muttered as it struck her eyelids, turning over and burying her head under her folded-up robe. Somewhere nearby, water started running. The sound echoed in her montrals. Grumbling, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Her Master was standing over the refresher unit's small sink, his head under the faucet. Must have a massive hangover. The apprentice dragged herself out of bed, shook her robes into a semblance of neatness and scooped up her lightsaber from where she'd left it in the middle of the floor. Undoubtedly her master had seen it there, but he didn't reprimand her. "Morning," was all he said as she walked, yawning, to the apartment's small kitchen.

"Hmph." The apprentice stretched and started to open cupboard doors. "Let me guess, Master, you've been sick. . . again."

"Violently. Good to know you're still sharp, Padawan." He shook his head, sending water everywhere, then grabbed a towel and buried his wet face in it. "What's for breakfast?"

He knew the answer, of course. They both did. "Nothing," the apprentice said cheerfully, slamming the door on an empty cupboard. "I guess it's back to work."

Her Master grinned and gave his horns one last rub with the towel, stifling a yawn. "Let's find some crime to fight, shall we?"