When Life Gives You Lemons...

The hangar of the Valiant wasn't the best place to conduct Jedi training. It wasn't even a marginally good place for it, in fact. Achieving that zen-like state of focus necessary to tap into the energies of the Force was tantamount to head-butting a durasteel wall, with the sounds of laser-torches burning, wrenches clanging and drills whirring everywhere. Most people would have tossed in the towel, but Corell Capstan was not most people and if there was one thing the Corellian born Jedi Padawan was terrible at it, it was giving up.

The exercise was simple enough, after all: maintain focus long and steady enough to keep a handful of nuts and bolts levitating in the air. They weren't exactly traditional training aides, but as far as anyone could tell, they were gone now. It was time to embrace a new way of thinking, and that meant learning amongst the constant industrial clatter of the Wheel.

In the shadow of a starfighter, the blonde swore succinctly as the nuts and bolts fell – for the first time – to the metal grating at her feet. One lodged itself in a hotel within the flooring, and Corell had to stoop down to pry it free, finding the little bolt now blackened with oil or grease. She wiped it against her olive drab pants and took a slow breath, trying to remember the lines about patience and peace that Navaria Tarkin was so fond of repeating.

It was with morbid curiosity that Loki watched the young woman toy with her rudimentary tools from across the hangar. He'd intended to pause at the door only for a moment but he was fascinated by the time she was willing to spend sat there making objects float. Then there came the clatter of metal, and the swearing, and unfolding his arms he broke into a stride and crossed the large open space. Perhaps now was the time to assist in the instruction of the fledgings, he was dressed for it after all, his robes were repaired and he wore them with something close to pride. The attire consisted of a simple black tunic and a white undertunic, and about his waist was tied a belt of white cloth, from which his lightsaber hung elegantly. He came to a stop behind her and announced his presence.

"To become a Jedi, Padawan, it takes more than blind determination," he said, in a soft voice, adding, "Or bad language."

There was no mistaking that outfit. By contrast, Corell wore the overalls she typically dirtied in the engine rooms of the Bad Mamma Jamma, the tramp freighter she crewed aboard. Planting her hands on her hips, the offending nuts and bolts enclosed in one sweaty palm, she sized the boy up with a glance. He didn't look old enough to have been apprenticed at the temple, before the purge.

“Guess I was ill the day they covered that lesson. Any other pointers?”

"While meditation has its merits, allowing a Jedi to dispell negative thoughts and emotions, it is not a prerequisite for displays of telekinesis. And making inanimate objects float is a banal affair and an unproductive waste of a padawan's training time. Please, follow me."

They left the shadow of the starfighter and stepped out into the limited open space afforded them by the cluttered contents of the hanger. Loki continued to speak as he lead the young woman across the room.

"I've no doubt you've been told that the Force is a Jedi's ally, no different from an armed comrade on the front lines of a battlefield, and as with all allies, our bonds are forged through pain and trust."

They reached the far corner of the room. Loki turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back, and he looked up, giving her one scrutinising glance before saying:

"I can show you how to make the only ally you will ever need. My name is Abarai Loki. Are you ready to begin?"

The blonde had followed him in something of a daze, body and mind still caught up in the intensity she had felt whilst tapping into the Force. When he came to a halt and introduced himself, it took a moment for Corell's mind to catch up with and process what he had said.

“Been ready all my life,” she said at last, brushing one knuckle against her jaw as a look of slight bewilderment came over her, as if the notion of questioning her credibility was too bizarre to consider.

"We'll see," he said offhandedly, and gestured to the room at large, "Start running. Full laps of the hanger, and if anything gets in your way, jump. Rest assured, your nuts and bolts will not be required for this excercise."

Again, there was a delay in reaction. The blonde simply returned the boy's stare, expecting at any moment that he would crack into a grin and reveal he was only joking – but the punchline never came. Never one to turn down a challenge, Corell suddenly gave a nod and then, after flexing through a few stretches, set off jogging. The hangar wasn't exactly crowded, but running the edge of the bay meant weaving amongst crates and all kinds of loading, landing and repair equipment. Corell kept her eyes ahead, jumping over a toolbox when one lay in her path, enjoying the feeling of being on the move.

Looking towards Loki with a quick glance, she called out: “You won't get much out of it just watchin', you know.”

In the moment Corell's gaze fell upon him, a power cell slid into her path, it wasn't particularly large but it was heavy enough to trip someone who wasn't watching where they were going.

"Ironically, you will."

All manner of junk littered the bays floor and Corell had made a good show of weaving, hopping and plain jumping over it – but the power cell was unexpected. It was a discordant note in the rhythm of her stride. For an instant, her chest tightened as she fought to catch her footing, managing to avoid a fall by staggering narrow half-foot to the right. Instantly she threw a glare across the room at the boy, though her feet kept moving, if only to put a little distance between herself and him, for fear she'd throw all control out the airlock and sock him one in the mouth.

“You tryin' t'give me a bloody nose?!”

"Your instincts are blunt," he said, quite frankly.

"Do you remember how you felt when you were levitating those bolts? You were connected to something and you were able to reach out and sense those rudimentary items around you without the use of your sight or touch."

Loki walked to the centre of the hangar where he was granted a better view of the makeshift obstacle course and his raised voice carried clearly over the buzzing and hissing of power tools.

"A trained Jedi feels this unconsciously, he is at one with his surroundings because, in every waking moment, the Force is with him. Focus. Patience. Discipline. Remember that feeling and shut out everything else. The Force alerts a Jedi to immediate danger, and through the Force, a Jedi is granted the speed and reflexes to react to it. Focus, and react!"

A small hydrospanner suddenly leapt out of a toolbox and flew at Corell's shin.

The 'spanner skimmed Corell's shoulder blade, as she weaved to one side at the last moment.

“Focus?!” A deep frown pressed into her brow, as a jumble of retorts and frustrations filled her head. Focus was easy when she was doing something she knew – working with her hands, mending, fixing – but just running and dodging random junk hurled at her by some uptight little-

Through gritted teeth, she chided herself. “Shut up, shut up.”

A flash of awareness hit her seconds before another missile could and Corell ducked, neatly hurdling over an obstacle in her path in the same instant.

"You're a fast learner. Good."

Loki watched Corell intently as she dodged the next volley of assorted projectiles. She controlled her anger but it still bubbled below the surface like a thick stew over too much heat. Another successful evasion quickly followed by a dull thud as a chunky little screw bounced off the back of her head.

"Anger is like the ocean," he said, "Vast and wild. Its waters rise quickly and distort the call of the Force. Actually... think of it like a comm-jammer. What good is it having access to the Force without... having... the authorisation code... to use it..."

"Anyway," he said hastily, and cleared his throat, "While a Jedi communes with the Force, following its guidance and heeding its warnings, he is also granted great speed, strength, and agility by channeling its power. And whether you are aware of this or not, padawan, I see you doing this right now."

Ahead of her, a large crate, about three feet in height scraped slowly into her path. Loki, somewhat short of breath, simply said:

"Jump it."

The more the boy talked, the more Corell felt her focus slipping away from the task at hand – and yet impossibly, her reflexes became sharper for it. She felt pace almost follow the rhythm of Loki's speech, steps drumming the ground on alternate syllables. Ahead, however, was a hurdle that simple rhythm couldn't compensate for.

The crate was over half her height and at a push she might have been able to vault or hand-spring over it, but that wasn't what the boy had asked for. Jump. Corell took a deep breath, already feeling the tingling of the pain that would soon be exploding through the lower half of her body. She could imagine herself running headlong into, and falling straight over, the crate, the impact taking the wind out of her as she flopped end over end -

With the final step before the box and the blonde collided, it felt as if the metal grating beneath Corell turned to rubber. What should have been an ordinary step sprung her into the air and flailing over the top of the crate. Landing with bent knees and an echoing clang, she froze for a long handful of heartbeats. Her eyes straight-forward, she could feel the boys gaze on her, even through the metal crate that stood between them.

There was little doubt she was gifted, whether naturally or through raw perseverance, it didn't matter. He knew she was capable; a padawan's immediate skill can be determined by observing the ebb and flow of the Force around her, as she improves she will subconsciously channel energy like a human conductor, and right now Corell was supercharged. It was a strange feeling, Loki discovered, seeing her succeed for it elicited a sense of satisfaction, something akin to pride. He now had a duty to this woman.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he asked, breaking the silence, and to punctuate his question, two hydrospanners whirled towards her like flying daggers.

The first 'spanner smacked into her collarbone, where pained bloomed suddenly, but the second she avoided by flinching away; Corell didn't need to be told twice. Though she felt the sting of the hydrospanners impact, it was electric tingling still present in her legs that was of greater interest. As he feet pounded against the hangar floor, her mind raced with possibilities.

“If you're tryin' to wear me out,” she called out to the boy, a little breathless. “It's not gonna work. I could do this all day.”

"Spare me the bravado," he said wearily, "And if you are incapable of silence then you can at least speak of something noteworthy. You're slowing down."

Instantly, Corell's speed increased so much so that she exceeded her previous pace. Loki was pleased, it was exactly what he'd expected. Another crate slid into her path up ahead, much to the chagrin of the sweaty deckhand who'd just pushed it from one end of the room to the other, he cast a grease-stained rag to the ground and stormed out, muttering furiously. Oblivious, Loki focued on Corell as she approached the crate, and asked:

"What makes you think you'll be a good Jedi?"

The first crate had been challenge and although the next one wasn't so big, Corell didn't think of it as any easier. With the boy firing questions at her, she had to keep herself focused, had to keep her eye on the prize even whilst he was trying to distract her.

“Determination, motivation,” she said, her breath catching as she hand-sprung over the obstacle he'd slid in her way. “It's what I was born to be, and no frellin' Empire is gonna stop that.”

"The Empire will be the least of your worries on the path to becoming a Jedi. You will be your own greatest enemy, padawan."

As the excercise proceeded, another barrage of small rudimentary items, another crate to conquer, his fingers crept over the lightsaber at his hip.

"Why do you wish ro become a Jedi?"

Unlike an ordinary, static assault course – to which the body and muscles could become accustomed, committing to memory the feats and endurance required – the constantly changing array of obstacles presented by Abarai Loki was a constant challenge. When she almost tripped, Corell bit back the urge to swear, showing a surprising amount of self-control.

“It's who I am,” she said, immediately aware of her own difficulty with the question. Barely born into the world, she had been given over into the care of the Jedi and whilst her time with them had been brief, it had left an indelible mark on her person. The Capstan family – Corellians who had adopted the girl following the fall of the Jedi Order – had tried to instil in Corell new values and aspirations, but there had always been what question of what if in the back of her mind.

“It's who I was supposed to be.. who I've got a duty to be. You don't get born with the potential for this for it just to be wasted.”

"I see," Loki said, his eyes lowered.

It started as a simple step, then pushing off the ball of his feet the boy became a long blur of light and colour rushing towards the padawan. The blue blade of his lightsaber sprung forth with a low hum and curved gracefully up towards Corell's neck.

Under the hiss of the beam was some oath that barely made it past Corell's lips as she flinched backwards from the searing blade of the lightsaber. Wide and wild eyes met the boys, searching for an explanation, as her nostrils flared with each deep breath.

In the moment's silence between them, Loki glanced at her feet and then noted the distance between his lightsaber and her neck. He deactivated his weapon.

"You have potential," he said at last, "And yet, although you dodged my attack you still lose your head. Impressive."

The last word was weighted with heavy condescension. He shook his head.

"Hesitation is not in the Jedi vocabulary. Instinct saved your life but discipline will slay your enemy. While anger only impairs your judgement and makes you sloppy."

He snapped his foot behind her ankle to sweep her feet from under her.