Machinations of the Force

[Aran Solan]

A single bedside lamp shone in the small room, casting a narrow beam upward to the roof. The illumination offered little in the way of visual aid, but merely acted as a focal point. The silence was almost deafening, the only sound being the slowed, rhythmic intake and exhale of breath. For, across the other side of the confined space, a lone figure sat atop a neatly-made bed, legs crossed, arms resting lightly on knees and eyes closed. Thin beads of sweat covered the figure’s brow, threatening to tickle the skin around his eyes, while small droplets had already trailed down his cheek to touch his lips with the taste of salt…

It mattered little, for the young man was not aware; he was deep in meditation:

A feeling, love, washed over the child. He felt warmth, a soft caress to his face, while a sense of safety flooded through him. He had nothing to fear, he had no concern, just a comforting deep within his body... but then it passed. The next he could remember was movement; a constant bouncing, with tight arms around his body. He could remember the heavy breathing from the mouth near his ear, could feel the fast beat of the heart against his chest.

He wondered where his toy bantha, Ba-ba, was.

“It’s alright, Aran,” A soothing voice, his mother’s voice, one that filtered through the excitement and slowly increasing fear. And not just any fear. It was a child’s fear, one that penetrated even the protective security of a loving parent. “You’ll be safe… we won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

There was a flash, a deep red, and a shout from beside the child. A sudden shove caused the running to become a stumble, and heat passed close by… so close it could be felt against the boy’s arm. There was a grunt, then a streak of blue appeared out of nowhere from the direction of the push.

“Get him out of here, I’ll hold them!” A male voice that was both strong and familiar. The child felt secure, safe, once again… it was his father.

“Jerath, no,” The voice from near his ear again, worried. “We can get away, all of us!”

He liked the color blue.

No more words, they were lost to the deafening rain of red lasers and the sounds of the blue blade. The child peeked through the flowing brown hair that played across his face, he saw a figure standing in the hallway, the blue blade hitting the lasers… he was being left behind, the running that bounced him taking his father further away.

The child hoped to see his father again; he loved his father, he always gave him sweets when they went into town. He wanted more sweets when they went into town again.
“Don’t look,” Said his mother, followed by a firm hand on the top of the child’s head, pushing his eyes down. “Just hold on…”

In the dark room, Aran Solan, Jedi Padawan, started to shake. His body was now covered in a sleek wet, the low temperature seeping through the simple robes he wore over his legs. His brow had creased, his eyes squeezing as wrinkles appeared at the edges. His teeth clenched, tightly, hurting his gums as the memories flooded back. Yet, he was still unaware; all he could think about were the sensations of his mind…

The boy was put down, he didn’t know where. He saw dark, he was scared now. A soft arm was across his chest, pinning the boy to the wall. He looked up, saw his mother, and noticed that she was looking at the door to the room, listening as people ran past. The child wanted to ask what was happening, where his father was, but he didn’t; something made him keep quiet, like a good boy, being brave like his mother had asked him.

“Shhh,” His mother sounded, holding her finger to her lips. “Let’s play dead banthas, okay? See who wins?”

The boy loved this game, he always won. As he played, the sounds kept going outside, people running and shouting to each other; they weren’t winning, they were loud banthas!

“Try every door,” A voice that sounded like a robot and was all crackling. “They can’t have gotten far!”

Were they playing hide-go-seek now?

The door opened, light came in and made the child blink and raise his arm to cover his eyes. There was a hiss, another bright blade, green, held by his mother as the boy was pushed to the side of the room, away from the door. He hit hard, it hurt his elbows; he looked and saw blood on one arm, the stupid floor!

“Stay down, Aran!”

There was a fight, more red lasers, and a white helmet landed on the ground near the boy. The dark eyes stared at him, they reflected the light outside. Next the boy felt a hand on his arm, felt himself being hefted to his feet and pulled along; he was running again, his mother pulling him behind her. She lifted him over some people in white playing dead banthas…

But he had won the game, he hadn’t said a word.

The child forgot how long they ran, but he remembered stopping when his legs couldn’t hold him up any more. He was tired, he wanted something to drink, he wanted a sweet from his father. His mother was sweaty, too, but she kept telling him to be strong and keep running.

He liked the color green, too.

The boy saw a speeder, it was brown like mud, and his mother made him run to it. There was someone inside, looking at them, waving like a crazy person… the boy waved back, to be nice. His mother picked him up then, lifted him into the speeder beside the crazy person.

“Get him out of here, Jerath didn’t make it,” His mother said. She looked sad. The child wanted to say his father could catch the next speeder. “Look after him… love him, don’t let them find him.”

The crazy person, he looked sad, too, scuffed up the boy’s hair. He didn’t like that. He wondered if he could play with the buttons of the speeder…

“…Natsha, get in, we can make it!” The crazy person said. That was the boy’s mother’s name.

“Just go, Jate, now!” The boy remembered the crazy person; it was his uncle!

There was red laser, it hit the speeder. Then they were going fast, and the boy wasn’t even strapped in! He looked back, saw his mother with the green blade again, she was hitting the red lasers… she was good at that game, the boy wanted to play it, too!

Then another person joined in the game, dressed in black with a cape and weird helmet, using a red blade. His mother started hitting that person’s red blade with her own, and they played against each other like his parents used to…

…then she started playing dead banthas, because the other person hit her with his red blade, and the boy knew something was wrong. That never happened when his parents played. What did it mean?

The child began to cry, he wanted his mother, he wanted his father, he wanted sweets and he wanted his toy, Ba-ba. Why did his uncle keep going? Why did the speeder keep going so fast? Why did red lasers pass them?

“It’s alright, Aran, you’ll be safe… I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” His uncle said, his voice caring and loving. It made the boy feel safe again, it made him smile and watch the trees flash past. “Do you want to play dead banthas? I bet I can beat you…”

The boy won; he didn’t say a word until they reached his uncle’s starship…

Aran’s eyes opened suddenly as he let out the air he had been holding. He reached up with an unsteady hand, pushing his fingers through his long hair. This hadn’t been the first time he had witnessed some of the first memories he could remember in meditation; for some reason that day always came back to him and threatened to destroy the peace he had found, filling him with dread. The Jedi Masters said he had to understand, accept and put it behind him…

But it wasn’t that simple.

Pushing to his feet from his bed, Aran winced as his bare feet touched the cold stone underfoot. He took a few quick steps toward the desk with the glowlamp, shaking out the pins and needles that pulsed through his legs, and with a flick brought the illumination to full. Blinking against the increase in light, the young Jedi let out a long sigh and rested against the desk edge.

He knew the Masters were right, and he knew he had to accept what had happened to his parents; but it didn’t help that he couldn’t remember what had happened exactly, and that his now-estranged uncle wasn’t willing to answer Aran’s questions.

Either way, Aran had inner issues that needed to be dealt with. He had to learn more about his past, his parents, before was taken in by Jate. It turned out his uncle had connections, using his transport business to secretly aid the Rebels, and that had led to Aran becoming involved with the Jedi through association.

How long had it been, now? Ten years?

And in all that time, the Jedi had encouraged leaving the past behind. They said his parents had become victims of the purge, that they had been part of the Jedi Order during the clone wars. These events meant nothing to the young man, they were just names for times in the past he wasn’t able to learn anything about. No one wanted to answer his questions, and this made Aran want to find out on his own… but to do that, he would have to ask others, and that was dangerous for the Jedi.

So here he was, a slave to circumstance; caught between those who knew of the years gone, but refused to speak of them, and unable to seek the answers of his own accord.

With a glance to his desk, Aran looked at the silver lightsaber that sat beside him. He reached out, running his finger over the hilt; it had been his father’s, found following the Battle of Endor in the Emperor’s palace on Coruscant. Apparently some Jedi had decided to take back some of their lost artefacts, and they had kept the lightsaber in their hands. When Aran had arrived, they knew who he was, and after a handful of years he was presented with his parent’s weapon. It had been bittersweet, to say the least, but the kindness behind the notion wasn’t lost on the Padawan.

Looking to the time display on the wall, Aran suddenly realized it was near dawn. He would need to prepare for the day, and would undoubtedly have to rely on the Force to maintain his concentration through rejuvenation techniques. But, at least he had been able to see his parents again… even if from the memories were those of a simplistic child’s point of view.

Grabbing the lightsaber, Aran clipped it to his belt. Walking to his chest of drawers, the Jedi Padawan pulled out a clean tunic, before pulling it over himself. He could hear other students rousing, could feel the increase in Force presence all around him, and knew the day was starting. Turning the glowlamp off, Aran made his way to the door of his room, where it automatically opened at his approach, and then out into the hallway, joining the number of Jedi making their way to the main hall…

[Lianna Mal Pannis]

Always in motion is the future. A lesson repeated often by her former Master, a Trianii by the name of Drin Kizael. He was a survivor of the Jedi Purge, a former Trianii Ranger, and adopted father of Lianna Mal Pannis.

As a child, she had begun to learn that the Force was an energy field that was created by life. As someone that could feel the presence of the Force around her, Lianna soon learned that emotions governed the use, or abuse, of the power. Controlling her emotions and ignoring distractions became a daily routine, much like it had been with the Jedi of the Republic. Eventually through mediation, Drin showed his young Padawan that glimpses into the future could be obtained, but to be mindful that the future is never pre-ordained. A Jedi can never truly understand what the Force expects them to do, until it is time for them to do it.

In truth, Lianna had never fully internalized that lesson. She understood that she was an agent of the Force, following the currents of its will to where she was needed most. Always living in the present, being ever watchful of the future, and realizing that everything happens for a reason.

Now it was as if a veil had been lifted over her eyes since surviving the events that had taken place on Doldur (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=17752). It all had stemmed from a vision surrounding the death of her twin sister, Moff Miranda Tarkin. Feared by the republic and revered by the Galactic Empire, Lianna risked her life to save her along with some help. Adia Issoris was a former Hand of the Emperor and a mother figure to the Jedi. Daria Nytherciria was a fellow Jedi and something ... more. Their relationship had turned complicated but the topic had been shelved since time had ran out to talk.

The three of them infiltrated Doldur City, straight into the Moffs office, where a meek Lianna revealed her blood relation to Miranda. Before any resolution could be met, the Dark Sider that invaded her dreams had come to claim her sisters life. The situation was chaotic. Inquisitors and Security tried to gain control of the situation, thinking that Jedi and the Sith were attempting to assassinate Miranda Tarkin. Lianna had focused her struggle against the ghoulish Dark Sider, knowing that it was he that would tip the sands of Miranda's fate. Their battle had taken them crashing through the windows of the office and outside for all to see. Military and civilian personal watched in wonder and fear as two Force users were locked in lightsaber combat. Confusion had then overtaken them because it appeared that it was Moff Tarkin who was in combat. Lianna had defeated the Dark Sider, severing his leg during the combat, and fled the area under heavy gun fire thanks to the Inquisitors.

In her victory, Lianna had walked away a changed woman. The fears that had clouded her had disappeared, replaced by renewed confidence and strength in herself and the Force. The confrontation with Miranda was far from over. Both of them would have to settle with each other later, a thought that did not scare Lianna any longer. She had matured inward and would meet her future with open arms, regardless of the outcome - as long as she served the will of a Force as a humbled Master ...

* * *

With the mass exodus of Vortex, the few remaining Jedi that had found safety there were now being sheltered by the Rebellions picket surrounding the planet of Anoth. Here the Jedi waited until Morgan Evanar contacted the Jedi, who waited patiently. Lianna was one of them.

She had already retrieved her morning meal and sat alone at one of the tables. It was almost comforting in a way that there was symmetry to her life on Vortex and now here on the Korolev, a Nebulon-B Escort Frigate. Slowly the Rebellion was getting used to Lianna's presence. It was still awkward for some, having the identical twin of a Tarkin on board, and they kept their distance. Those that knew her well enough vouched for her, but the Jedi knew there would be suspicions surrounding her presence and her motives for saving Miranda. One would think that two days in the bacta tank because of injuries sustained by a Dark Jed would sway their opinion, but the Rebellion just didn't understand. But Adia and Daria did.

Lianna found herself missing the demure Jedi's presence. They hadn't spoken much to one another since arriving, but she had felt Daria's presence everyday while in the medical unit. Although the bacta and her own abilities to recover from the fight had significantly cut down on her recovery time, Lianna still felt quite sore and tender. The three inch laceration above her right eye still needed to mend and it still hurt to laugh, thanks to two cracked ribs. Still the pain was bearable, thanks to the Force numbing some of the painful stimuli. It was not able to mend a lonely heart. All thought understanding the reasons for Daria's seclusions, she did hope that her friend would come to her soon so they could talk.

[Daria Nytherciria]

Since the battle on Doldur, sightings of Daria had diminished. The encounter with Moff Tarkin and her Inquisitors had left the Jedi Knight shaken, and although she had felt an immense relief when Lianna emerged alive and victorious from her encounter with the Sith, she could not could not deny the fear she had felt.

It had taken a great deal for Daria to allow herself to open up to the possibility of a burgeoning connection between herself and her fellow Jedi, and the fear of losing what was newly discovered had been so much stronger than she had expected. It was this realization that had driven her into seclusion, only emerging to visit Lianna now and then, to make sure she was recovering - but there was no way she could hide forever. Hiding and running were part of her old life, before the survivors of the Purge had come together on Vortex.

Thus, she found herself walking through the corridors that lead to the main hall. It was a strange feeling, being around a large number of Jedi again – more, even, than there had been on Vortex, thanks to the co-ordination of the Rebellion. As she walked, her mind unconsciously sought out Lianna's presence, her vision shifting from person to person as she tried to locate her friend.

Being so preoccupied, she failed to notice a young man standing in front of her, and bumped against his shoulder as she stalked passed him. Her solid-white eyes met with his for a moment, though it was clear she wasn't looking at him but rather through him, to what lay deeper inside.

The pause lasted only a second, and then she was moving on again, muttering an apology as they both stepped into the rec hall.

[Aran Solan]

Aran smiled at the young woman who bumped into him, stepping to the side as quickly as possible to allow her passage. The apology was echoed with his own, but the young man couldn't shake the feeling that her seemingly unseeing eyes had witnessed more than they told, but before he could ask, she was moving on again clearly deep in thought.

Must be a Jedi, Aran thought to himself with a chuckle. And true enough, given that most of the Jedi were preoccupied these days, what with the state of the Order and how uncertain the future seemed.

Scanning the mess hall, a place Aran had become quite familiar with, the Padawan caught fight of Lianna - another Jedi he had helped through the healing process, from wounds sustained in battle. At the time, while the physical was manageable, Aran worried over her emotional, and he felt the need to seek her out and ask about her well-being... right after he gathered some lunch for himself.

Taking his place in the que, Aran waited patiently, side stepping until it came his turn to have his bowl filled with standard military foodstuff. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he wouldn't complain; it wasn't like he had been privy to much better, given his past and induction into the Jedi, where simple things were often best.

Grabbing his tray firmly, Aran walked directly toward Lianna, before coming to a stop in front of the table she alone occupied.

"Lianna," Aran said, his voice soothing as he gave a smile of greeting. "Do you mind if I join you? I figure you might enjoy some company, even if it's only myself. It's good to see you up and about, though you didn't come back to the medical centre to even say hello..."

He finished the last sentence with a wink, indicating he wasn't offended. Taking a seat, the young Jedi began to poke and prod his food with the fork, making sure the mass of thick soup wasn't breathing.

"How have you been?"

Aran had never been much of a talker, but he had become quite good at listening. And, in his experience with healing through the Force, sometimes an ear was the best cure one could offer when the body had healed and only the mind remained...

[Lianna Mal Pannis]

She felt it. Her presence. It was so close and tangible that Lianna looked up quickly from her meal, shocked that Daria had ventured so close to her location. Any time the blind Jedi found herself in dangerous proximity to her location, she backpedaled, not willingly moving forward.

The Jedi found herself smiling and visually scanning the area for Daria because the Master could sense that her presence was practically on top of her! Lianna's search was not frantic but one of exuberance ...

... and unfortunately she couldn't hide her disappointment when it was Aran's cheerful voice that broke the silence. He was standing directly over the table, greeting her with cheerful mirth.

"Hello, Aran," she said, somewhat distracted still, but her disappointment shifted over to the Padawan fully. Aran had been a great source of comfort and friendship when she had returned from Doldur. "I apologize for not checking in with you or the medical staff more frequently. But I'm mending well, thank you for asking."

She stifled a small chuckle, watching him probe lunch with a fork to make sure it was edible.