The Shadow War

[Kazahan]

Ossus

"Greetings, Kazahan, marrodar. May the Moons shine bright upon you. This one sends you this message hoping it finds you well, and speedily. But I have little time for idle correspondence, marrodar. Things are ill here, and on Trian, and in Trianii space. Attacks on shipping and the colonies have become much worse. We have so far managed to deal with the attackers, but this is not an upsurge of pirate activity. All of us in the Rangers agree: this seems more like the start of a war. There are creatures, marrodar, such as this one has never seen before, as well as the standard Corporate Sector metal horde. We do not have warships to fight such a defensive conflict, and we Rangers have not been able to find out where these attacks are originating from, thus we cannot stop them at their source. You have joined the Jedi in search of a strength, and Mrogazhi hopes you have found it, for we are at a loss, and in need of one such as you, with the powers of the Jedi in your grasp. Please, come to Trian, and lend what aid you can."

The image stilled, leaving Kazahan staring at the holographic Mrogazhi with troubled eyes. Rangers never asked for aid, unless the situation was dire, and only then it was from other Rangers, or those other Trianii that they could conscript. And Kazahan was no longer a Ranger, or anywhere close to Trian and its colonies. Kazahan hummed in thought. The message was already somewhat dated. Since none at home would know how to reach Kazahan directly, it had been recorded and sent to Ossus, marked for him. And he had been out, training and scouting the still hostile Ysanna tribes for nearly a week. He had only returned hours ago, to find this message waiting for him. He'd rushed to the communications center and taken an empty projector for himself.

He already knew he'd be going. Or he'd try to do everything he could to go. But what could he do that the Rangers could not? His grasp of the Force was nothing spectacular. He did not have prophetic abilities, nor could he use the Force to scry out the Ysanna, much less a shadowy group of pirates most likely based out of the lawless former Corporate Sector. His forte was what Solomon had called the 'Living Force', though the idea confused the Trianii apprentice somewhat. He followed his instincts, was aware of the life around himself, and how his actions had an effect on them. He could fight, though he could tell that while the Jedi had a plainly martial bent to their teaching style, their teachings themselves smacked of a decidedly less violent philosophy. No matter which way he looked, he was something of the odd Trianii out; he was at once too aggressive and violent to progress very far as a Jedi, and he wasn't violent and aggressive enough to attain the higher ranks among the Trianii Rangers.

It was a good thing he was stubborn, or else the thought of giving up might have entered his thought process. As it was, it never did.

He stood, pulling the holodisc from the projector and stretching, enjoying the feel of his muscles loosening and relaxing. It was a short walk from the comm center to the Jedi Council Chambers, though it was unlikely anyone was there. But it was as good a place as any to start, and he needed to get going. He had a bad feeling from the message, and wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

[Abarai Loki]

Outside the Council Chamber, Loki waited. It was an unscheduled visit; at present the Jedi Council were holding an audience with Huntress Captain Meorrrei and a sour-faced Alliance general. With only minutes to go before the meeting was over, he found himself attempting to fine-tune his words, words he'd been rehearsing for weeks. His own voice droned inside his head. He started to pace.

Months had passed since his trip to Ando: though it had been am ugly undignified affair that haunted him in every fleeting moment of solitude and reflection, the mission had been a success. In the time since, he had poured his energy into training every initiate on Ossus up to acceptable standards of novice lightsaber proficiency. His standards were high, but after many bruises and tears, they were met. Everyday, he had walked the same tired route to his instruction square, went through the same tired demonstrations with his own criminally underused weapon, and presided over the same tired duels featuring the same tired mistakes made by the same tired padawans. Disappointment had become his natural state. If he was going to continue performing his duties to an agreeable standard, then he had to get away from Ossus for a while - far, far away.

It was his intention to request such a sabbatical on the grounds that he wished to expand his own understanding of his role as a Jedi out there, in the wide galaxy. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure what his role as a Jedi was anymore, outside of playing the part of a glorified drill instructor. And he was even more dubious about the Jedi as a whole, and their place within the grand and convoluted scheme of things. Such thoughts he dwelt upon less than the very obvious fact why he was seeking respite from the Jedi sanctuary in the first place: he was bored, monstrously so. He was bored, and the Jedi Council would know; just another stubborn impatient teenager looking for a good time, that's what they would think.

His pacing turned into a sudden retreat that had him almost collide with Kazahan, who seemed to be as urgent in his approach as he was in flight. When Loki noticed the small holodisc in his paw, his eyebrow arched.

"Padawan Kazahan, there is a meeting in session. The Council will be free to see you shortly," then, he couldn't help himself, "What is that?"

[Kazahan]

"This," Kazahan said smoothly, "is a holodisc. A datatape. Holotape. It is used to record information —"

Loki did not look amused. Kazahan closed his mouth.

"This one has received a message from the homeworld," he supplied. He lifted the holodisc. "This is the message."

He could tell Loki was curious as to how a message from a homeworld could lead to a hurried walk to the Council.

"Things are not well," Kazahan said after weighing the taciturn young Knight's character with his eyes. "And the Trianii cannot fathom the depth of the danger, though they can tell it is deeper than they first suspected. Kazahan has been asked to come and help in what ways he can by an old friend from the Rangers. Thus Kazahan is here, to ask the Council's permission to go and render aid."

And if they will not give it, added the trainee mentally, this one will return to ask forgiveness after the problem is dealt with anyway.

[Abarai Loki]

A mission. A dangerous mission. If ever Loki was to believe in the Will of the Force, this was it. Whether providence or coincidence, he knew an opportunity when he was presented with one, and this particular opportunity seemed to be reaching out to him as much he had, all this time, been reaching out for it. The important thing was to not let his enthusiasm show - he wasn't sure why, except that, according to Taataani Meorrrei, it was a sure-fire way to get exactly what you wanted - so his face set like duracrete as he considered his response.

"If there is to be danger, then you will need the support of a Jedi with combat experience." So far, so good. After a tactical pause, a contemplative glance to the horizon, he conceded some unspoken question with a nod, "While my list of responsibilities may be extensive, it seems I do meet the criteria of such a supporting role. Very well. I am willing to help you in your mission, Padawan Kazahan."

The senator would be so proud, he thought, ruefully.

[Kazahan]

"Yes, you see — what?"

Kazahan frowned slightly as he regarded the youthful Jedi in front of him.

"Trianii knows not what to expect," he began. "But this one thanks you. Also, there is a question Kazahan wishes to ask. How much trouble would this one be in if I were to leave on this mission without seeking the Council's permission? Let us say that a note detailing the mission was left. This is all purely hypothetical, by the way."

[Abarai Loki]

"That last person to do that was incarcerated. I do not recommend this course of action, nor can I support it."

The false firmness hardened into something solid and real. Memories of the mission to Ilum, and of Halajin Rabeak's deception, left a sour taste in his mouth, twisting it into a frown. His eyes narrowed as he attempted to scrutinise the expression on Kazahan's face; Trianii were more difficult to read than their Cizerack cousins. All he could see was what looked like apathy. That was concerning. Rather than deploy his usual frostiness, to dissuade the padawan he attempted a more positive, and altogether softer, approach.

"Have faith, padawan. The Jedi Council will see the worth in your cause. Let us not forget that we Jedi are diplomats first and warriors second." It wasn't a smile he was wearing. He just felt a bit queasy. "Apparently."

[Kazahan]

"This one certainly hopes so," Kazahan replied, a bit surprised that Loki hadn't brought a full force of disapproval and aggressive disappointment to bear. He would have said that Loki was full of frustrated anger, but the Knight was a Jedi, and anger held no place in the Jedi philosophy. This confused Kazahan, but he didn't speak of it. "If not, my heart feels something ill will come of it."

His somber mood passed quickly, like desert sand in a light wind.

"But with one such as you supporting this, the prospect of permission is more likely!" Kazahan said cheerfully. "So this one will not worry overly much."

He turned and looked at the structure that housed the Council when it was in session. He hoped he didn't have to wait long.

[Abarai Loki]

When the doors to the Council Chamber finally parted, out hobbled the Alliance general, glistening and red. Huntress Captain Meorrrei glided, by comparison. There was a speeder and a driver waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. She afforded Loki a curt nod in greeting before leaving the general to choke on her dust. Kazahan, in his eagerness, had already climbed the stairs and was passing through the tall doors when Loki caught up to him. Behind him, he heard the doors hiss shut and the maglock clamp - there was no going back.

####


Sometime later, the doors gasped open and Loki squinted as he stepped out into the sunlight. He paused atop the stairs to consider his Trianii companion.

"Padawan Kazahan, I confess myself pleasantly surprised: for someone who has difficulty with basic personal pronouns, you argued a strong case in there. I particularly liked how you emphasized the dangers of nonpartisanship on a turbulent galactic stage. Now, which way to your ship?"

[Kazahan]

"Kazahan has no ship," the Trianii replied cheerfully. "This one came on a shuttle. But it should be no trouble to requisition one. Trianii hopes."

He cast a look back at the Knight.

"Kazahan's language does not have a way to denote 'I'. First person pronouns are rarely used, only in the oldest of tales. But if this one's speech is not unintelligible, there should be no problem, and we need not speak on it anymore, yes? So, let us go and find ourselves a ship."

[Abarai Loki]

"The Jedi have been provided a number of transports to facilitate our off-world activities. They are basic but they will suit our needs."

The Jedi Council Chambers sat on the main stretch of road that split Sanctuary One into two, where the wind whistled and dust danced. Loki wrapped himself in his haori and marched onwards. Ahead loomed the comm tower, marking the centre of the outpost, and beyond stood the recently built medical centre. Much further still was the Cizeri base, where shuttles rose out of the shimmering horizon like flies. Somewhere between the near and the impercebtibly far there was a junction that would take them towards the Alliance military base and their would-be transport, which was yet another lifetime away. So, when he and Kazahan were no more than a few feet from the Council Chambers, Loki prodded a thumb at the air and brought a speeder of military engineers to a stop. There was space enough for the two of them to sit on the back, legs dangling precariously over the edge. Once they were on the move, the roaring wind made it difficult to hold a conversation, but that didn't stop Loki from trying.

"My remark about personal pronouns," he shouted, "Did it offend you?"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan looked at Loki a moment, before shouting in return:

"No. However Kazahan has heard many insults. Things have been said that were not meant for this one to hear. For Kazahan's peers, this is fine; their opinions will not hinder this one's advancement much. But a Master or Knight such as you having such an opinion would leave this one with fewer opportunities, or an untrue estimation of this one's skill or intelligence."

The landspeeder was already taking them out of the Sanctuary. The buildings seemed to be a bit more than they were to Kazahan at that moment. He remembered this feeling, it was the same one he'd felt when he'd left the Trianii worlds for Ossus, and everything had taken on an almost story-like quality. He might not return, and so he committed to memory all the details he glossed over regularly: the way the heat shimmered around the buildings, how the sunlight glinted off the shuttles as they flew low overhead. He remembered Akasha's look of victory, the flush of pleased satisfaction at overcoming a challenging obstacle. He remembered Tak's hair, and her shy smile as if she were rediscovering him as a friend again and again. He remembered Morgan, covered in blood, but particularly the grim set of his expression, and how the blood seemed to accentuate his look, as if it reacted to his command of the Force. He remembered the dying Gossam, cooing softly even though it was so afraid. Afraid of him, afraid of the Ysanna, afraid of the encroaching darkness.

He remembered Eela, and how she would still shy away from him unconsciously, because his features somehow reminded her of the choku that had stalked her, and the fear it had caused in her.

He remembered Raji, and her hands. The fur on her fingers was almost always slightly discoloured from oil and grease, and the mechanical one had slight scratches and marks on it. He liked those marks and discolourations. Raji built and maintained things, and it showed. And she was so smart about things of which Kazahan hadn't a clue.

There were so many things. Not all of them good, not all of them bad. They just were, and Kazahan remembered them for it.

Kazahan glanced over at Loki.

"The shuttle we take must be in good repair," he shouted. "Trianii space is not close by, and there are more than a few colonized planets we may need to visit if things are as bad as was said."

[Abarai Loki]

"Then I will speak with the port master to ensure we are provisioned for a long trip."

Kazahan had given Loki much to think about: when it came to his peers or underlings, he had never shied away from being critical - there was too much at stake to be nice - but never before had he considered how his sharp tongue might put a padawan at an unfair disadvantage. If he thought a padawan was unworthy, he would tell them so, and he often did. Kazahan was not unworthy, he was just different, like Ndonsa, or Cirrsseeto, or even himself. Was it prejudice to point out those differences? Was he a racist!? No, Loki frowned in thought. He was indiscriminate in his discrimination.

By the time they arrived at the Alliance military base, he had reached a decision how best to right an evident wrong. They disembarked and continued on foot towards the expansive landing platform. The base was buzzing with an attractive and orderly kind of energy, and often he found himself distracted by the sight of soldiers performing drills or working together on enormous hunks of machinery. Still, between his efficient march and Kazahan's long loping gait, they made good time. When they arrived at the landing platform, they found the port master standing alone, studying a datapad. Loki gave a nod.

"Lead on, padawan. This is your mission."

[Kazahan]

Kazahan nodded and made his way over to the port master, who was frowning.

"This one is requesting a shuttle for a long term flight," Kazahan said. The port master glanced over to him and back at his datapad.

"Names?" he asked shortly.

"Padawan Kazahan and Knight Abarai Loki," Kazahan responded.

The port master entered something in his datapad. Without looking up, he asked, "Destination?"

"Trianii space."

Another quick entry into the datapad.

"Estimated duration of mission?"

"This one does not know."

"Very well," he sighed out, thinking for a moment. "Two people. You'll get three weeks' worth of supplies. Lambda shuttle on pad four."

"You have my gratitude," Kazahan bowed, and looked in the direction the port master had indicated. The port master nodded twice and walked away, speaking into his communicator to get the supplies aboard the shuttle. "Let us go, Knight Loki, yes? Time is of the essence."

[Abarai Loki]

In the sun, the shuttle shimmered like the bleached bones of some ancient beast; and despite the obvious Imperial chic, its tall folded wings and pristine chassis gave it a rather elegant look. As he climbed the lowered ramp, Loki wondered, and found himself disappointed. Inside, the shuttle was spartan and gloomy, furnished with bench seating for their non-existant passengers, floor space, and little else. He saw hatches to access the cargo bay and a refresher the size of a linen closet. Other such luxuries were invisible to him, as he followed his clunking feet over the clunking floor to the clunking cockpit.

There were six stations, each with its own seat and more buttons, sliders, and knobs than Loki knew what to do with. The control sticks at the gunnery station, with their bright red triggers, he recognised. Behind him, Kazahan ducked under the door frame and stepped inside, forcing him to relocate.

"Padawan, I assume you have experience with a vessel such as this. My own piloting skills are... limited."

[Kazahan]

Kazahan was walking confidently up to the cockpit even as Loki spoke, his eyes wandering over the controls and systems panels with the air of an experienced pilot.

"This one flew many ships for the Rangers," he said, "And this model of shuttle is fairly common among the corporations that once threatened our worlds."

Putting action to words, Kazahan sat awkwardly in the pilot's seat, curling his tail around so he wouldn't crush it against the backrest, and went through powering up the systems with practiced ease. By the time he had finished warming up the shuttle, the ground crew had nearly finished loading the ship with their supplies. Kazahan nodded and thanked them as they finished and stepped away from the vessel.

"Everything is prepared, Knight Loki," Kazahan said. "Let us get underway, yes?"

The ship shook as it pushed up off its landing struts, and Kazahan quickly flicked the control to retract them into the shuttle's body. As they passed over the Sanctuary, Kazahan allowed himself a few more moments to remember, just in case he never came back to see it. Before long, they were in orbit, and speeding away from the planet's gravity well to a point where they could engage the hyperdrive. Kazahan felt a thrill of rightness through his being as the tunnel of light stretched into existence around the ship.

"It will be good to see this one's home again, after so long away," he said idly.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki sat. The embrace of the co-pilot's seat was greeted with a thrill of excitement. Behind him, he heard the loading ramp hissing, and the locking clamps clunking into place with a dull finality. His every move was punctuated by a soft squeak of leather, as he followed Kazahan's paws dancing deftly over the controls. Much of it was lost on him, but he reconciled himself with the knowledge that, if the trip was to be long, he had time to learn.

His insides squirmed as they took off. It had been some time since his last off-world excursion and he'd been spoiled by the intertial compensators of large ships like the Whaladon. As they sailed over the outpost, Loki studied Kazahan, who was watching the buildings and people pass by with an expression he could only describe as enigmatic. Perhaps he was the sentimental sort, like Cirrsseeto.

When the hyperdrive was engaged, his fingers dug into the firm leather of his armrests. The familiar maelstrom of electric blue and white engulfed the cockpit, sending shadows tumbling over each other behind them. Once his alarm had subsided, he felt the press of silence filling the void between himself and his companion, and he fumbled for something to say. Mercifully, it was Kazahan who spoke up first and confirmed, in a handful of words, that he was indeed something of a sentimental man at heart. That gave him something to work with:

"Tell me about your homeworld, Kazahan."

[Kazahan]

"Kazahan was born on Trian, the homeworld of the Trianii, but soon after this one's family left to help colonize Brochiib. Technology is scarce there, unlike on Trian, and there are only two starports on the planet. It is a varied planet in terms of climate and environment, with a vast ice cap on the southern pole, and a frigid ocean at the northern pole, and forests, plains, grasslands, and a few large mountain ranges with active volcanoes along the two major continents. The Corporate Sector did annex it shortly, and Kazahan remembers that time vividly, because of size of the forces that all the tribes brought together to oust them, along with the Rangers and Trian itself sending ships. There was a large battle on the planet, and three large battles in orbit, and they were defeated, though the cost was very high. Kazahan was a young cub when the skies were alight with the fires of battle both above the sky and below it.

"It is beautiful. The rivers in the mountains are chilled and fall in numerous waterfalls, and the wildlife there is very tasty. You will have to try some."

[Abarai Loki]

"Perhaps we may go hunting, if our schedule permits it."

His amendment came quick, like a reflex, but with no shortage of reluctance. The mission was not yet five minutes old and already he was planning leisure time. There were times, when he heard himself speak, that he became acutely aware of just how much of himself he was losing to his new life. Change can be a good thing, he was forced to remind himself, with dogged resignation. And while he lingered on the idea of himself hunting strange creatures in a strange land, and then eating them, his subconscious filled in the blanks and painted a picture of this alien world using Kazahan's vibrant palette. It certainly had the makings of one of his better away missions.

"You said you were a Ranger," he said, surfacing from his reverie. "And you said the Rangers fought off the invaders when you were a cub. You are a warrior, then?"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan turned to regard Loki curiously for a moment.

"Yes," answered the Trianii. "Kazahan has been trained for war. But 'warrior' is not an appellation this one thinks is fitting for a Ranger. A warrior is one who is trained and specialized for war. Rangers are more like militia or peace-keepers within Trianii space. They fight often and it is for this reason the training is so difficult, but war, war is something altogether very different. We Trianii do not like war. War is about obtaining victory and subjugation of foes, where we value honour, and independence, even in loss and defeat. Our stories tell of prideful fighters and there are many who would sacrifice honour for some other gain. We are not a perfect people, and Kazahan will not mislead others by implying it is. But it is a cultural taboo to sacrifice one's dignity for mere gain, and all of the colonies share that view to greater and lesser degrees."

Kazahan's ears shifted position, betraying his curiosity.

"Why do you ask? Your skill in combat is great, but this one hears the question as if learning to fight is only to defeat one's enemy. Are not the Jedi more like Rangers than warriors? This one has seen many parallels in the instruction of apprentices on Ossus."

[Abarai Loki]

"If there is one thing I have come to understand during our time on Ossus, it is that there is no one true definition of what it means to be a Jedi. Not anymore."

It was an enigmatic note to hang on, but Loki needed time to consider his best angle of approach. Of his people, Kazahan had woven a rich tapestry of culture and tradition for him consider, and it wouldn't do to sully his Trianii pride with a few poorly-chosen words. As a habit, it was something Loki was trying to kick. He braved a glance at his companion, who was waiting, ears pricked in an attentive fashion. To sate his curiosity, Loki decided to start with a perspective that was about as far-removed from the tradional Jedi as possible: his own.

"When I was trained in the ways of the Jedi, there was an enemy to defeat and a fight to be won. My master had two goals: surive and teach. My goal was to survive and learn. Jedi were outlaws, hunted almost to the point of extinction; what need had we for diplomacy, when the future of our kind was at stake?" He frowned, and sank back into his chair, "Circumstances have since changed, and so too must the Jedi. Perhaps we are not unlike your Rangers, after all; warriors during times of war, diplomats during times of peace."

[Kazahan]

Kazahan huffed a laugh.

"Rangers are no diplomats, Knight Loki," Kazahan answered. "We are merely a security force with very good training and morale. We patrol for smugglers and pirates and the like, and resolve disputes that can have no other resolution but through fighting. The war with the Corporate Sector went badly for us until Trian began manufacturing warships of their own. But this one is very interested to learn of the resolution of conflict without violence."

An alarm rang; Kazahan pulled the ship out of hyperspace, and allowed the navcomputer to work out their next jump. It was a matter of moments, and then the hyperdrives activated once more to the ethereal beauty of swirling light tunnelling around them.

"This one is curious, Knight Loki," Kazahan asked. "Not of this one's progress. But of the Jedi's. This one understands there is a sort of conflict with the Empire? Trianii have heard of it, but our position in the galaxy meant it did not expand towards us, and we only heard of it through contact with freighters and captured pirates. By the time this one joined the Jedi, the galactic war was over. All speak of it as though it is impossible for this one to have no real knowledge of it. Could you explain it, if it is not too much trouble?"

[Abarai Loki]

"The galaxy was governed by the Galactic Republic: a democratically elected body of representatives from thousands of worlds. The Jedi served the Republic as diplomats and advisors and, sometimes, as warriors. Though the Jedi were granted a degree of autonomy, ultimately, they were answerable to the senate. This relationship endured for many thousands of years."

The words were rattled off with practiced fluency. Words he had recited countless times before; as an infant, it had been a bedtime story; in his youth, it was a mantra; as an adult, it had become a cautionary tale. He watched Kazahan for a flicker of recognition. It was difficult to believe that there was anything of what he had said that was new to him. And yet, the Trianii remained poised and patient and still. Perhaps he was being tested.

"There was a senator from Naboo: Palpatine. He rose to power while his world was under invasion from the Trade Federation; he became High Chancellor, following a vote of no confidence in his predecessor. Under his leadership, the Republic went to war against the Confederacy of Independent Systems, a seperatist faction led by man called Dooku. Count Dooku, as he was later known, was once a decorated Jedi."

"The Seperatist Crisis grew to the point that the senate saw fit to grant Palpatine emergency war powers. An army of clones was manufactured to combat the Seperatist droid army. Jedi were appointed as generals to lead the clones in battle. This period of history became known as the Clone War. The conflict raged on, amassing casualties on both sides, but throughout it all, Palpatine's leadership was unwavering. He became very popular with the people."

There was a sneering edge in Loki's voice that made no mystery of what he thought of popular opinion. It was in his experience that people, in general, hadn't a clue what was best for themselves. It was a truth, he had discovered, that was to the great advantage of every political mouthpiece from every corner of the galaxy. If history had made him cynical of politics, then experience had turned him into a zealot. He took a long bracing breath before he continued, for he had reached the point in his story where he was about to crest the precipice:

"It was at the height of his powers, when it was discovered that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was in fact a Sith Lord who went by the name Darth Sidious. Darth Sidious, it turned out, had taken Dooku as his apprentice, and had orchestrated the entire Seperatist uprising himself. The highest echelons of the Jedi Order were dispatched to remove him from power, but it was too late. Palpatine was able to utilise the Jedi attack to spin a narrative of his own. And, in doing so, he made his true designs known. In claiming that the Jedi sought to overthrow the senate, Palpatine made his personal enemies the galaxy's enemy, and fashioned for himself an Empire out of the embers of democracy."

Though Kazahan's feline face remained as unreadable as ever, Loki couldn't help but notice a change in posture. His eyes were large and bright and intelligent. It was to Loki's shame that he was surprised to find the Trianii had not been distracted by dust motes or a flashing light. On the surface, Kazahan had struck him as a fickle sort, who takes childlike glee in the simplest of things. There was a reason he had arrived at this premature conclusion - a glance outside of lessons was enough to confirm Kazahan's nature - but it had been small-minded of him to think that one who was so easily pleased was incapable of deep thought. What a puzzle he was.

"The Jedi were hunted to a man; soldiers with whom they had once shed blood, executed them like dogs. It was the systematic extermination of the people who had pledged their entire lives to the service of justice and peace. The few that survived, people like Masters Solomon, Vymes and Laran, went into hiding and passed on what they had learned in secret. Had it not been for them, the story of the Jedi Knights would've become consigned to the pages of history. Instead, the Jedi legacy lives on in you, and me, and everyone else on Ossus. And that is why we remember. That is why the Empire is our enemy."

[Kazahan]

"Ah," Kazahan said thoughtfully. "So you are also sentimental for the Old Order. This one wondered. Master Solomon is wise and exemplifies the tenets of the Jedi philosophy well, as does Master Laran and Master Vymes, but this ones senses at times a loss and wistfulness. Sometimes when teaching they seem to forget what has happened to them, and then they remember and are sad. But you, Knight Loki, this one only ever felt that you were focused on the future, always preparing yourself, and preparing others, like the instructors this one had back when first joining the Rangers. So Kazahan was curious, because at times it seemed like what you taught and they taught were at odds. Forgive this one for prying."

The Trianii huffed softly, less of a laugh and more of a feline sigh, before closing his eyes and concentrating.

"Kaz... This... I... I only desired comprehension."

[Abarai Loki]

In whatever direction Loki assumed the conversation would take them, this was not it. He listened, dumbfounded, as Kazahan dispensed his thoughts with alarming honesty. And the story that Loki had gone to great pains to convey on his behalf didn't even register as a footnote in his response. There was no sense of revelation; his words stirred up not a drop of moral outrage or even a hint of camerarderie between him and his fellow Jedi. Instead, Kazahan indulged in musings of the heart, of sentiment and loss and other such trivia. It seemed that whatever information Kazahan had sought, he had somehow teased it out of him by prompting a history lecture. Loki bristled. Had he been tricked?

"Whatever truth you believe to have wheedled from me, know this: I am not given to sentiment."

He dug his shoulders into his seat and folded his arms. It was one thing to be made to feel a fool and quite another to be called a sentimental one. Of all the accusations laid at his feet, that was a first. Perhaps Ossus was making him soft, after all. His fuse was lit, and ready though he was to refute Kazahan's claims, a more pressing question bubbled to the surface first.

"And you- you said 'I'," his face creased with confusion, "Why?"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan looked at Loki with an air of confusion. Was it not obvious?

"Because we are alike, more so than Kazahan had thought," the Trianii answered. "Kazahan speaks this way because of language and education of the mind. Speech and action follow thought. It would be easier perhaps to learn to speak as you do, but Kazahan does not. It would seem a mask or an affectation to this one. It would be easier for you to affect a sentiment to indulge the sensibilities of others, but you do not. Instead you push aside that which you consider unuseful, and present yourself without a mask. Much like this one. Perhaps sentimental was the wrong word to describe what you feel for the old Order. Reverence, perhaps fits more comfortably. You share a reverence for the old Jedi ways and history with the others. Much like others mistake this one's speech to be indicative of foolishness and thoughtlessness, this one perceived your lack of sentiment to be a lack of reverence. That was also a mistake."

[Abarai Loki]

"I see."

Loki did not see - not fully. Kazahan had somehow divined similarities between them both that seemed to him to be something of a stretch. Perhaps his companion had made the comparison out of some need to relate with him. That, in itself, was a form of camerarderie. To object would be both unproductive and peevish. He conceded the point with a nod.

"You are not alone in your guilt. It seems I too was mistaken in my preconceptions. You are a deep thinker, Kazahan."

If it was true that, in the same way as he was unwilling to accomodate emotional neediness, Kazahan was unwilling to accomodate the grammatical laws of Basic, then it meant one of two things: either they were both victims of their own upbringing or they were ignorant of change. It was a theory to which Loki could not subscribe. His choices were his own, not the by-product of some intellectual handicap. And yet, instead of discarding the Trianii's words, he found himself lingering on them, much in the way one might be inclined to gawk at a traffic collision. As an excercise, it was both ugly and irresistable.

What he found most fascinating, however, was the unguarded honesty with which Kazahan spoke. It was a rare quality in an individual, especially a padawan, and particularly with him. What, on the surface, appeared to be naivety, spoke volumes of cultural differences instead. And how he spoke: rolling syllables and rumbling vowels strung together with an uncommon musicality. When Kazahan spoke at length, such was his wont, Loki felt his eyes getting heavy, and it wasn't from boredom. It was then, perhaps, a risk to prod him to continue, but in this one Loki had discovered a means of honest feedback that was free of both sarcasm and sycophancy.

"Tell me, Kazahan, where do your deep thoughts stand on the Jedi Order, such as it is?"

[Kazahan]

"This one is not sure if the Masters wish to make the Jedi a people unto themselves, or an order," Kazahan answered immediately. "And this one feels that perhaps the Masters themselves are not sure, either. This one will have to think hard, because there is a sense that one must be a Jedi, or not; and this one does not wish to choose between being Trianii or being Jedi, but the choice must be made, this one fears."

Kazahan paused while he assessed the Lambda's consoles once more. They were going to need to stop and then make another short jump, and then finish the journey with their thrusters, which would take some time. Trianii space was not on any major hyperspace routes and were near the edge of explored space (at least explored by Alliance or Imperial peoples), which meant they were largely isolated from both danger and help.

"There is a lack of defined direction," Kazahan continued once he was sure of their route. "The Jedi are rediscovering themselves. We are not quite sure of where to go next, once things are established on Ossus. Should we continue to build, or should we begin to move out into the galaxy? What shall we do once we are out there? What will be the focus? Diplomacy or war? There is much this one does not understand. But the Jedi are setting themselves up with a firm foundation for whatever path is chosen."

[Abarai Loki]

"A strong foundation is paramount."

Loki found himself nodding in agreement with Kazahan, who had spoken with absolute clarity and truth. The Jedi were indeed rediscovering themselves, and the only drawback of that was that nobody appeared to be discovering the same thing at the same time. He had long ago come to terms with the unique nature of his own perspective, made an island once again by Kazahan's words: was one a Jedi before all else? Loki believed so, but unlike so many of his peers, he had never been anything else. As such, it was a philosophical question he was unqualified to answer, despite his opinion to the contrary. He didn't like it, but then he didn't have to: logic was the hand that guided emotion, not the other way around.

"This task is of personal importance to you. Be warned, Kazahan, there may come a time when you must choose between what is right for you as a Trianii, and what is right as a Jedi. It is a reflection of the dilemma faced by the Jedi Order itself. I trust you to be wise in your decisions."

[Kazahan]

Kazahan nodded.

"Kazahan only hopes that wisdom will be there in that moment," he answered. "But there is an anxiety there that the choice will be taken from this one long before any choice could be made."

Kazahan paused, and looked at Loki.

"Is this misgiving the Force, or a distraction?"

[Abarai Loki]

"You have seen the future." Loki took a breath to think, and then went for the kill, "A very woolly discipline, if you ask me. I spoke recently with Master Laran about the nature of her own premonitions, and, quite frankly, she was as clueless about tomorrow as the rest of us. She told me that the future was always in motion, and that our actions in the present can change the outcome of the future - basic causality, then - which makes your premonition as useless as a rubber lightsaber."

Loki gave a knowing nod and settled back into his seat with satisfaction. He was glad he'd never been blighted with the so-called gift of foresight. It was a thought that, as he rolled it around inside his head, made him squirm because, upon reflection, he realised he was going to have to backtrack. Slowly, he swivelled in his seat to face Kazahan, face heavy-set with the weight of a concession.

"However, in the heat of battle, it is not uncommon to sense an attack an instant before it becomes a threat," his nose wrinkled as he silently renegotiated his appreciation of the Jedi premonition, "Trust these instincts, Kazahan. There are fewer variables that can alter the course of such an immediate future and, if there's a chance it will prevent you from being murdered or maimed, take it. The rest is useless crap."

[Kazahan]

"So it is the Force, and a distraction?" Kazahan asked. "This one must trust it and ignore it in turns? This is confusing."

Kazahan leaned forward to check the navigation to display once more, and turned to Loki.

"Please explain how some instincts are meant to heeded, yet others are not. Is it a question of immediacy? Distraction?"

Kazahan's tail waved back and forth in anticipation of a good, long, conversation.


***



BROCHIIB SYSTEM


"What is this?" Kazahan murmured quietly, his fingers flying over the console's switches, searching for the source of the alarm blaring. After his and Loki's conversation, the large Trianii had opted to sleep and rest before arriving at the system, thus leading to a bleary confusion when the alarm started blaring. He brought up a diagram of the system onto one of the consoles, and frowned. "Ships in orbit?"

He looked up, a sensation of pleasure at seeing his homeworld again muted by the ships clustered over it. As they drew closer, Kazahan could tell they were large transports, not of Trianii origin. His eyes widened as he took in the details of the strange ships. All of them were little under a kilometer in length, with large rounded hulls, and massive doors on their aft ends. Kazahan discarded the thought that they were merely troop transports based on those details, but what sort of machinery or weapons or anything that required such a massive entrance confounded him.

"Loki," he called, "this one thinks perhaps this may be why the Rangers sought outside help."

[Abarai Loki]

It was not long after Kazahan had fallen asleep that Loki followed suit. His promise to oversee the last leg of the journey was dashed the moment the big Trianii started purring. A gaping yawn was the first warning sign; the desire to curl up into a cozy ball, the second. He escaped the cockpit in the hope that distance would weaken the influence of Kazahan's sedative powers, but it was all for naught. Into the chilly aft cabin, Loki retreated, chased down by the sound of deep rolling snores. Cradled on the passenger bench, he succumbed instantly to the heavy blissful embrace of sleep.

Just as Kazahan's purring had been the last thing he heard before falling asleep, it was Kazahan's voice that woke him. In the beginning, he was powerless to comply; then, upon noticing a hint of alarm in the voice of the typically placid felinoid, Loki slithered upright. Whatever method of contortion he had used to work himself into the bench had left him stiff and sore all over. When he finally returned to the cockpit, Brochiib was glimmering through the viewport like a great cerrulean jewel. And, in its orbit, ships mingled like glossy maggots, ready to feed.

"Do you recognise those vessels?"

[Kazahan]

"Kazahan does not," was the response. "These have not been seen in Trianii space before."

They drew closer to the planet, and the ships, finding that there were about five of the huge transports, and myriad smaller craft, all looking like transports themselves, interspersed among the larger five.

"What in the heavens...?" Kazahan breathed. They were close enough to be on the tranports' scanners, but they had not received any hails, nor alerts. It was as if all the ships were dead, until a cloud seemed to rise from the huge transports' hulls, all at once, and a glittering dust seemed to slough off them. The scanners in the Lambda shuttle came alive; whatever had been on those ships was apparently a defensive measure, as innumerable small contacts began speeding towards the two Jedi and their shuttle.

[Abarai Loki]

"Kazahan! Evaisive maneuvers!"

Whether or not the veteran pilot was in need of such elementary instruction was irrelevant - while Kazahan seized the flight yoke, Loki engaged his own personal auto-pilot. He bounded into the chair behind him to man the gunnery station. His hands swatted at the switches before him, activating everything. Behind, a proximity warning sounded and the targetting computer became hysterical. Through the viewport, he saw the motes take shape, shimmering silver like a wall of thumbtacks, only immeasurably more dangerous.

"What are those things?"

Loki did not wait for an answer: the threat was real enough. He took the control sticks in his hands, and squeezed both triggers. On either side of the ship, laser canons barked, spitting their first crimson salvo into the oncoming tide.

[Kazahan]

"They are sabotage droids," Kazahan growled, pushing the shuttle's engines to their max output, toward the planet, on a straight, unerring course. Easily intercepted, but hopefully too late to keep from disabling them and tearing the shuttle apart before they reached the atmosphere. "This one has never seen so many at once, before. The Corporate Sector's forces were fond of them."

The cloud altered, seemingly alive, as it adjusted its own heading to meet theirs. Kazahan lowered their shields' output. If Loki was alarmed, the padawan seemingly ignored it with aplomb.

[Abarai Loki]

"Kazahan! What are you doing!?"

A klaxon blared in agreement with Loki. Collision was imminent and they were woefully vulnerable. Not one to abandon his duty, he fired another futile volley from the laser canons; it was like trying to erradicate a swarm of bees with toothpicks. The droids were relentless and moved in graceful unison like a great murmuration of murderous starlings. The targetting compter flittered from miniscule target to miniscule target, incapable of getting a lock, but it didn't matter: when he fired into the swarm, he knew that his shots would find their mark, and he knew it wouldn't make any difference.

Suddenly, there was an ominous clatter overhead. The clatter became a thunderous din as droids battered the hull like hailstones. In the pit of his stomach, Loki had the sinking feeling of being utterly useless. He stitched another line of canon fire along the length of the circling cloud. From the aft end of the ship came a ferocious grinding sound.

"They're tearing the ship apart!"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan's only reply was to gut the shield's power even more, shunting the power to the engines in a bid to avoid most of the droids by a burst of speed. He allocated a little power to charging the hull's plating, and a satisfying sound of the current running through and electrocuting the droids was short-lived; he couldn't give the plating enough power to protect them from that many droids, and they still needed to reach the atmosphere.

"Loki!" the Trianii called, seeing the planet loom larger in their viewport. "Cut interior lighting. We do not need it. Prepare to run another charge through the hull."

The lights flickered out, save for the glow from the consoles and the light reflecting from the planet.

"Now!" Kazahan grunted, just as they began to enter the atmosphere. More of the droids were removed, and Kazahan activated the shields' full power once more. The shuddering of the ship, and the draw from the reactor, drowned out the sounds of dozens of sabotage droids still at work on the hull and parts of the ship, just as protected as the two Jedi were by the shields.

[Abarai Loki]

Once Loki was done deactivating the secondary systems he could identify, he crashed back into the co-pilot's seat, and fumbled for the seatbelt straps. His heart was racing. He was powerless. Fate was a tug-of-war between a pilot's intuition and the efficiency of buzz droids. Charging the hull had been a stroke of inspiration worthy of praise, or a handshake, even. A thunder crash rumbled up he spine of the ship. If Kazahan got him out of this mess in one piece, he would kiss him!

Through the parting clouds appeared an expansive continent of pale green. It might as well have been twelve parsecs away; the view was spoiled by an appearance from one of their mechanical tormentors. It skittered over the transparisteel on spindly legs, and stared at Loki with angry red eyes; from its underbelly protuded a a long arm equipped with a drill head. There was a high-pitched whine as it went to work, and, as the glass started to fracture from the point of contact, Loki readied his lightsaber.

[Kazahan]

Just as the transparisteel began to fracture, the ship gave another mighty shudder, and with an unmistakeable sound, the shields fell. Unprepared to fight the winds unleashed on it, the droid fought for two seconds before being torn away from the viewport. Kazahan slowed the ship as much as he dared, and checked the systems. Much of the ship's diagram was red, indicating extensive damage, but it was still flyable, for the moment. Without the added stress of high winds, the viewport seemed like it would hold.

"We will not make it to a starport," Kazahan said, checking the systems again. "We must find a suitable place to land."

[Abarai Loki]

Taking his cue from Kazahan, Loki started prodding the console in front of him until a pair of holograms flickered to life either side of his hands. One was a topographic overview of the area below them, the other was a detailed cross-section that changed whenever he touched a different section of the map. Reams of aurabesh danced across the screen: there was a city ahead. And sure enough, as they swept high over an emerald mountain range, he saw a shimmering grey scab of land nestled in the foothills. That had to be it.

"Aswyth'alor is the only major city this side of the mountains. I will find you a place to land."

The shuttle banked with the lightest of touches, and still it rattled like an old tin shack in a storm. Turbulance became a problem as they circled through a blanket of cloud; Loki could feel his stomach churning. Coloured squares of farmland patched the surface below, there was a small village neatly assembled on the side of a hill, and a watchtower, and a silvery lake, with an island and a house. There was a painful pop in his ears, Loki stabbed a point on the map, and as the ground rose up like a fist, he yelled, "There!"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan brought the ship down, breathing a long sigh after the landing gear did not collapse underneath them. For a moment, he just sat in the pilot's chair, saying nothing, just processing what he and Loki had just been through. He turned to Loki and opened his mouth to speak.

And the viewport shattered.

With a brief hiss of surprise, Kazahan undid the crash webbing on the pilot's seat, and stood. The cause of the interruption was a sabotage droid, burnt and deformed by its fall through the atmosphere. It resembled nothing more than a spider, or hunting insect of some different sort.

He spared Loki a glance, but seeing the Jedi Knight was not hurt, he moved to the back of the shuttle and dropped the ramp, and then opened up the cargo access for their supplies and pulled out two hiking packs. Immediately he opened them and began to fill them with their supplies; water, kolto, the little bacta that could be spared, ration bars and dried meats and meal packs. At the very bottom was a blaster rifle (http://www.gunsforfilm.com/photo_gallery/SCIENCE%20FICTION/slides/Blaster%2015,%20Plasma%20rifle,%20science%20fictio n,%20%20NON%20FIRING.JPG). He looked up.

"Are you one of those who disdains blaster rifles, Loki?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Only in a lightsaber duel."

Loki couldn't decide what was worse, the stench of fried circuits wafting from inside the shuttle, or the smell of burnt crops and scorched soil that marked their landing site. The hull of the ship whistled and creaked as it cooled, and the very air around it rippled from the heat. While Kazahan packed, Loki investigated the extent of the damage inflicted upon their shuttle. From some distance away, he hissed through his teeth. There wasn't an inch of metal that wasn't lacerated or pocked, entire sheets of durasteel had come loose in some places, and one of the stabilisers had been shredded halfway to its skeleton.

They had landed on the outskirts of an expansive crop field, where cereal stalks stood as tall as Kazahan himself. The trickle of a drainage ditch could be heard nearby, and, carried on the wind, there came the distant pealing of a bell. It was coming from the village.

"Kazahan, you know this world. What kind of a welcome can we expect from its people?"

[Kazahan]

Kazahan looked at Loki blankly for a moment.

"You ask a strange question, Loki," the Trianii answered. "They are people. They can do anything."

Loki did not look amused. Luckily for Kazahan, he wasn't joking. Kazahan handed Loki the other hiking pack and a blaster pistol.

"Most people on this planet are nomads," he said, shouldering his pack and checking his rifle once more. Shouldering that also, he led them out of the shuttle and into the grain field. "Or farmers. Villages are along major trade routes where the nomadic peoples cross frequently during the year."

Kazahan stopped talking and stood still, his tail waving back and forth in a very careful way.

A booming voice echoed over the field, speaking in a throaty and rolled language.

Kazahan cupped his claws to his muzzel and shouted back in the same tongue.

"We must stay here and make no movements, or we will die," Kazahan said, glancing back at Loki. A few moments later six Trianii, bearing blaster rifles and ranging in height from just a few inches shorter than Kazahan to only a few inches taller than Loki seemingly appeared with little noise and warning. One stepped up and spoke to Kazahan, and then looked at Loki piercingly. Kazahan bowed slightly, and spoke in return. When he was done, the Trianii perked up, and looked at each other and back at Kazahan with more measuring eyes. Kazahan produced the message and played it, and the holographic image served to placate them more than anything else. With a gesture, they vanished into the grain with little sound.

"Kazahan has told them that this one is a Ranger, responding to summons from Mrogazhi, and you are a Jedi Knight, of whom we have heard stories. They know Mrogazhi's name. He is not here, but there may be one who can tell us where he is, and what exactly is happening."

Kazahan's eyes narrowed slightly, in what was becoming a noticeable sign that he was smiling.

"We have some good luck. We must make some more before we run out."

With that, Kazahan followed the other Trianii and vanished into the grain, leaving little trace of his passage.

[Abarai Loki]

Though there was no sign of Kazahan to be seen, once he had entered the dense jungle of golden crops, Loki listened for the soft padding of footpaws and the creaking of stalks. He stomped between the narrow gaps with purpose, intent on staying close to his companion. That the band of Trianii greeters had not yet murdered them was no good reason to give them his trust. Perhaps they were a simple folk, like farmers, who toiled the earth and jealously guarded their land - it would explain why they neglected to disarm a couple of perfect strangers and instead, elected to help them in their search for a certain Mrogazhi, whoever that was. Or they were cunning enemies, who clothed themselves in false promises to lull a Ranger and a Jedi into a false sense of security, and slice their throats in their sleep. Loki stiffened with indignation - they would have no such cheap victory as his expense!

Once they were clear of the crop field, the party assembled by the side of a dusty road, where a landspeeder and a couple of speeder bikes awaited them. The leader of the pack, a chocolate-furred barrel-chested mountain of a man, directed his men to their vehicles: with two Trianii to a bike, the landspeeder was reserved for their guests, which groaned under their collective weight. Loki sat in the back with Kazahan, checking his left hip for his lightsaber, and his right for the smartly-holstered blaster. He liked the feel of it there, firm against his thigh, wrapped in tanned bantha hide. It felt reassuring.

As the speeders woke with an uncertain whine of engines, he leaned toward Kazahan, and muttered, “If these farmers attempt to betray us, do you want to take the big one or the little one?”

[Kazahan]

Kazahan once more gave Loki a blank expression.

"These farmers will not betray us," Kazahan answered. "If they desired to kill us, they would have done so. We were quite at their mercy in the field, armed or no."

The speeders followed a wide, well made stone road down to the village, which had a fairly dense forest skirting its north eastern boundaries. It was heavily fortified. The tallest buildings sported heavy gun nests, and the most easily accessible routes into the village itself were blocked off with sandbags and large metal obstructions, meant to force armoured vehicles along a preordained path. As they crested a hill, they stopped, and their small group watched as what looked to be a legion of battle droids marched on the village. Kazahan watched the unfolding battle intently, but the other Trianii with him and Loki were instead looking to the skies and the distance with fearful intensity. A group of people, mostly children and the elderly, by the looks of it, were being put onto speeders and into trailers hooked to them and sent off away from the village.

Kazahan's ears perked up.

"This battle is lost," he said quietly to Loki. "The droids are too many, but they are not using all of their heavy weapons on them. This one does not understand why."

One of the other Trianii, a large burly brute of mainly dark orange colouring with black stripes, shouted and pointed to a tree line near where the noncombatants were fleeing. First, a massive, snake-like head appeared, and then the rest of its body crashed through into the open. An oppressive feeling ran through the group, and they could see the children and elders fleeing in the opposite direction of the massive reptilian beast, who stood tall and roared loudly, taller and larger than even the tallest buildings in the village. The heavy gun nests turned and fired on the beast, who turned to face them, stepping on the train of speeders and people within them. A long tail whipped, knocking over more of the vehicles, and the beast opened its wings wide and darted its head forward, crashing into the building the closest nest was on and bringing it down into ruin.

Kazahan could not say a word. The other Trianii watched grimly as the village and its people were massacred by battledroids and the huge monster (http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140301202437/lotr/images/4/40/Smaug_Pgs22_23Z.jpg) that had come from the forest.

[Abarai Loki]

“What is that thing?”

The words fell limp from his lips. Loki rounded the speeder and crouched low, edging forward for a better view. Screams rose out of the village like the distant clamour of a playground. Ebon plumes of smoke spiralled towards the clouds. There were soundless flashes of red and green from different quarters: fireworks, where doomed fighters made their last stand. And the great lizard beast rampaged, trailing death and destruction in its wake, and roared like it meant to sunder the sky. Distance and futility made the whole thing quite unreal, like a holofilm, or a dream. But, even in his dreams, Abarai Loki knew who he was.

“We must do something,” he said, his throat felt like it was lined with sand, “I… I am not given to spectatorship.”

[Kazahan]

The large orange furred Trianii seemed to be of a like mind with Loki, his anger bristling his fur and a low growl rumbling from deep within him. Another, slightly less brawny member of their group placed a clawed hand on his shoulder and restrained him with some soft spoken words.

"No," Kazahan said to Loki, though his eyes were still trained on the great winged serpentine beast. "We will be able to do no good for them. We do not know enough. The battle is lost, and at best we would only delay ourselves and any we save also. They are not exterminating the people yet, merely crushing centres of resistance."

The leader of the group, a tawny maned creature only a few inches taller than Loki himself, turned to them and gestured to the vehicles. Yet even as they loaded themselves onto the speeders and bikes, he remained to watch the death throes of the village, and when the screams and sounds of fighting died down, he turned and joined them, growling out commands.

"We are going to make for Aswyth'alor. It is still standing, as far as we know," Kazahan said, translating as he listened. He turned to Loki as they made way. "This one has never even heard of anything like that creature, Loki. But it is not just that. Something about it beyond its fearsomeness sends chills through Kazahan's tail."

[Abarai Loki]

“It is the presence of the Dark Side.”

Even in retreat, the feeling hung over them like a persistent shadow, pressing at their backs. It was the heavy hand upon his shoulder, the whisper in his ear, the breath against his neck. If Kazahan felt anything like he did, then he, too, knew that inexplicable feeling of being watched. It was a feeling with which he was intimately familiar, and he ignored it in much the same way as one striving to ignore the family idiot.

Loki’s fingers coiled around his lightsaber. His insides tightened, knotted in frustration by the inaction. To retreat without trying - that was not his way - and he resented Kazahan for his caution. Who did he think he was talking to? Informing him that some lowly farmers had them dead to rights; claiming the battle lost before it was over; deciding they were helpless. He was a Jedi, the apex warrior, and was not to be dismissed like some common army grunt. And yet, the sounds of battle were behind him, fading into the distance. There was no objection from him as the landspeeder accelerated the way it came because, in his heart, he knew there was wisdom in the decision. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

Surfacing from his sulk long enough to nod at their driver, he said, “What do they know of the droids?”

[Kazahan]

Kazahan spoke lowly with the tawny Trianii while the speeders made their way through a vast grain field. There was a quiet that seemed to come from the air they breathed, and the only real sounds were the engines of the speeders and the rustle of the grain stalks as they brushed the sides of the vehicles; other than Kazahan and the smaller Trianii, none spoke. The sun was beginning to set, the green fields lit aglow around them from its rays. The stalks, unlike the field they had landed in, reached up just past the doors of the speeders, enough to brush past Loki's face, but not obstruct his view of the surrounding lands.

The forest was behind them, and their small convoy snaked through a grain field that extended nearly as far as the eye could see, a pastorally peaceful contrast to the war they had turned to leave behind and were heading towards. The fields were quilted green and beige and tan and even some light blue in the distance, on the sides of gently sloping hills. A small building astride a river, its thatched roof gleaming gold, was the only thing that broke up the landscape, and though it was a speck on the horizon, the convoy's course altered, heading towards it.

"Anglaren mrishu haangi," Kazahan murmured quietly next to Loki. The tawny one nodded, his greened eyes fixed on the Jedi apprentice intently. Kazahan turned to Loki. "The droids landed three weeks ago. Mainly older models, such as those used in the great Clone Wars of the past. However, there are some newer models we have not encountered before. These are mainly tactical and commanding units. The great beasts landed soon after, and it seems they command the droids somehow. Both spaceports are besieged, but holding out due to their artillery. The ships above have cut off communications with Trian and the other Worlds. We have come to the conclusion that we cannot rely on the hope for aid; for if the ships are somehow fabricating communications to Trian, which would not be difficult, they could not know of our desperate need. The droid armies' numbers are not known exactly. However, if both starports are blockaded, and there are enough left over to form such groups as that which we have left behind, there must be tens of thousands."

Kazahan went quiet.

"The people of this world number under two hundred thousands. But we are mostly farmers, traders, miners. Not soldiers. Not warriors. And against such weapons and creatures as these..." Kazahan looked over at Loki intently. "We are a scattered people. Any great resistance must gather, and these small armies of droids we believe are working to keep us from doing so. Strongholds and large villages have been crushed, and hidden groups in the forests have been beset suddenly by those creatures."

The sky, though still bright, was darkening slowly, as if in tandem with the situation as described by the normally placid and at ease felinoid, who was now pensive and unusually unfocused on the gleaming waves of colours that slowly undulated with the breezes coming from the south west.

[Abarai Loki]

"If you are capable of making accurate assumptions of the enemy's numbers, perhaps you can do the same for the number of people willing to resist."

While he spoke, Loki stared pointedly at the shifting horizon. He did not wish to meet the gaze of Kazahan, or his kin, for fear of betraying his mood. Every word, as it rolled of Kazahan's tongue, reeked of defeat. A civilisation without warriors was like a wild animal exposing its belly to a stranger. There was even a small troubling part of him that believed the people of Brochiib deserved to be so effortlessly dominated. If they survive this ordeal, he thought, bitterly, perhaps there will be some who wield blasters in place of pitchforks.

"We need to establish secure lines of communication with neighbouring communities to establish the number of survivors, their strength, and supplies."

[Kazahan]

"There are no secure lines of communications, Loki," Kazahan answered. "The droids are jamming or monitoring all communication frequencies. Two great such gatherings have already occurred, and were crushed as soon as communications were made to find others. So far, the only gathering of any strength that has been heard from at all are the besieged Starports. And those are from sightings from afar."

Kazahan followed Loki's line of sight, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"No. The best plan for gathering any resistance is to find the nomadic tribes," Kazahan continued. "Mrogazhi is either with them, or he managed to make it into one of the Starports to organize their defences there. From what this one has heard, the biggest issue is not the will to resist, but the lack of training and preparation in the population. Unless the Starports fall quickly, and according to the most recent sightings the artillery and air defences are still in operation, only small detachments will be available to hunt down resistance groups."

Kazahan's muzzle dipped, one clawed hand scratching his chin.

"Kazahan thinks there are three essential objectives we need to complete before any effective resistance can be gathered. One should be to find out what if any goals or objectives this invasion is meant to achieve, another is to find out by what methods they are keeping us from communicating and what methods we can use to circumvent those, and the last is to find and establish contact if possible with the nomadic tribes, but without leading the droids, or those giant creatures, tunguzhen they are called, to them."

As they spoke, the tiny caravan pulled up to the small thatched roof cottage, and two large Trianii leaped from the speeders to the door in one bound, and threw open the door. With their blasters drawn, they entered, and a few seconds later, they exited, making a hand sign consisting of pressing their thumbs and ring fingers of their left hands together.

"That is a sign of negation," Kazahan said as he stood and hopped out of the vehicle. "There is no one here."

The tawny Trianii spoke lowly and then motioned once.

"We will sleep here tonight, and make our plans for our next objective. Aswythalor will be our next destination, but a destination without a goal is simply another road."

[Abarai Loki]

The cottage was a quaint affair, humble, with wooden furniture, and chipped tiles on the floor. Motes danced in columns of blueish-grey light that bled in through tiny windows. The Trianii where already at work, covering the glass with a torn table cloth, while another worked at the hearth. Loki got the impression they had done this kind of thing before. It was uncommon for him to feel so useless. He took a seat and reflected on all Kazahan had said.

"You are pinning a great deal of hope on this... Mrogazhi of yours. Who is he?"

[Kazahan]

"Mrogazhi is the one who first recruited and trained Kazahan as a Ranger," the padawan answered. "He is old, and has been a Ranger for at least as long as Kazahan has been alive. He has seen many things, and his memory has not failed him yet. While such a thing as this may not have occurred before, it will be Mrogazhi who can apply past circumstance to the present."

Kazahan leaned back, and the fire light was now glowing dimly in the room. The striped Trianii had made a small fire that was not putting off smoke. A small metal pot was placed next to the fire and a jug of water was emptied into it. To the side, another of their group was cutting ingredients and preparing their meal. Much of it was grain meal, but they opened a sealed bag and a thick slab of meat was exposed. This was cut and examined carefully.

The other Trianii moved to sit with Loki and Kazahan in a loose, silent semi circle. Outside, the night lengthened and stars became visible.

[Abarai Loki]

There was warmth in the close scrum of bodies, and warmth from the persistant little fire. Loki yawned. Though the weight of a long journey hung heavy on his eyes, the smells wafting from the gently bubbling pot, combined with a sudden and unignorable emptiness in his stomach, was as invigorating as a dose of smelling salts. Served in tin containers, the food resembled thick steaming dog food, with its strange amalgamation of grain, vegetables, and meat, but Loki struggled to recall anything that smelled better. He took his first mouthful and weathered the eye-watering heat with dignity. It seemed that, when it came to not wasting precious eating time, his Trianii companions were of a like mind. If he were inclined to believe in such things, Loki liked to imagine there would be a special circle in hell reserved for those who talk too much during meals. His dinner cooled for no man.

But there was something odd about this particular silence, it was pointed, almost oppressive. And the only sound that broke it was the scraping of his spoon against the tin. When he finally glanced up from his meal, Loki was greeted by seven pairs of glowing eyes. He swallowed.

"What?"

[Kazahan]

"It is traditional for Trianii to make prayers to their god or gods before their meals," Kazahan said quietly. "Most do not take long, but it is considered quite rude to eat before offering thanks to the meal's cook if there is no prayer. Also, it allows for your food to cool before eating."

Kazahan and the other Trianii bowed their heads. Some murmured their prayers under their breath, while others remained quiet. Kazahan stared into the flames of the small fire and then raised his tin to the cook, before tapping his spoon on the tin and eating quickly. The others followed suit soon after, and tapped their spoons on their tins while raising them to the cook to offer their thanks for the meal.

While they ate, the sound of grunted and mumbled conversation began to seep into the sounds of spoons scraping tins and the chewing of a meaty grain thickened stew.

"Talk has begun of what do to now. The leader, the tawny one who is called Ngongimir, is discussing the three ideas I told you earlier and listening to the thoughts' of the others. If you have any ideas, this will be the time to air them."

[Abarai Loki]

Of course, there were prayers. Of course, there were traditions in place to appease brittle feelings. Loki weathered the tedium with a patience that bordered on murderous. There was always something, he thought bitterly. Always someone being offended. Where were the people who just ate? His people.

By the time it was his turn to contribute to the discussion, he had already finished his food.

"It is imperative we must first discover the intentions of our enemy. If we know their goals, then it stands to reason that we may also be able to anticipate their actions. When we rendezvous with the tribes, we should not be empty-handed."

[Kazahan]

Kazahan spoke to the assembled Trianii, but as they replied to him, they looked directly at Loki.

"Ringmhir does not agree," Kazahan translated for the large orange and striped Trianii. "He feels we should either find as many as can be found shortly and organize an attack in short order; he dislikes running and hiding, and while we look for answers or try to find some weakness, the defenceless are dying, being exterminated."

Ringmhir looked at Loki intently throughout both his and Kazahan's speeches. The tawny Trianii spoke quickly, looking at Loki, before turning to address the large striped one.

"Bhūrhgunti begs your forgiveness, Loki," Kazahan translated. "He asks Ringmhir how we are to find anyone when we cannot trust our communications. What sort of attack can we make if we know nothing of our enemies? We help no one by needlessly dying. Alyhingi says that he may not stay with us whatever our decision. His home village is in danger now from that Tūnghru. Mrolyan asks whose village is not in danger."

The conversation was growing heated, until Bhūrghunti hissed and raised one hand. He spoke quietly, and looked at Kazahan intently.

"They have asked for Kazahan's mind," the Jedi apprentice said to Loki. Kazahan turned to them and spoke. After he had finished, the Trianii all sat quietly, though a pensive mood still hung heavily over all.

"This one has expressed the need to find Mrogazhi. He will likely have many answers, but also he will know the many ways to get to the tribes quickly, and is already an unquestioned authority that Trianii will follow without reservations. He will be most likely in one of the starports, organizing and running the defences. Or he will have sought out the tribes so that he can work from a position of strength."

The Tawny one, Bhūrgunti, spoke, looking at Loki.

"He asks how you would recommend going about discovering the enemy's intentions."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki listened intently to their words, both basic and foreign. In many ways, he was reminded of the first great gathering of Jedi that took place on the Wheel, before it was really the Wheel. The variety of opinions shared in the hangar that day were not so different from the very personal views of his new companions inside their ramshackle shelter. Despite the gravity of the situation, the corner of his mouth ticked to consider Corell, and the kinship she would share with the large orange one called Ringmhir. And, like Ringmhir, he too craved action, but if it was action they were to take, it needed to have a clear purpose. Fighting for the sake of fighting was the sign of a fool.

"The enemies are droids. If we secure one of them, we can use the ship's computer to interface with its systems and download its memory. It is stretching the limits of my knowledge, but there may also be a way to tap into the enemy's communication network this way. With one intact battle droid, we may know the enemy's mind."

Before Kazahan could turn back to address the Trianii in their own tongue, Loki held up a hand. He was not yet done, and what he had to say was for Kazahan’s ears only.

“I do not know this Mroghazi like you, Kazahan, however, you have made his authority and influence quite apparent to me. And I am concerned that you are taking refuge in his shadow, rather than making decisions for yourself. He may have some of the answers we seek. Indeed, he may also be organising a resistance from one of the starports. But then, he may also be dead. I would much rather operate under my own power to find answers, and make a difference, than to wait for the say-so of a Trianii legend.”

[Kazahan]

Kazahan stared at Loki intently in the dim firelight for a long moment, and the other Trianii glanced between them in interest, if still silent out of respect.

Finally, he turned to the others and spoke quietly; Loki's words stirred them, especially Ringmhir, who spoke excitedly to Bhūrghunti.

"Kazahan must admit an urge to deny you the possibility of Mrogazhi's death," the Trianii said after another moment while his fellows conversed. "But it is true, and this one helps nothing by not taking it into account. But this one feels that he is not, and that he is important. Once again we come to the conundrum of what instincts to heed and what to ignore, hmm?"

Bhūrghunti turned to Loki and spoke, his tone and voice only slightly higher in pitch than Kazahan's own.

"'Your advice and plan will be taken, Jedi, though the chances of us returning to your ship and finding it of use are slim. We saw your descent with a trail of smoke, and there is no reason to believe the enemies had not also seen it.' He says," Kazahan translated. "'But this one and this group should they follow will make for Aswyth'alor as the destination. The only group of droids we are aware of are those accompanied by the tūnghru, and attempting such a thing while it is around is suicidal at best. Should an unaccompanied group of droids be found along the way, we will take one or more if possible for you to retrieve such information. Aswyth'alor is home to many of various trades, and farmers buy droids there to aid with farmwork; there should exist such things as you need to do what you have said.'"