Shadows of the Republic: The Initiate

“Well,” Master Yoda hummed, “A gift of the Force this is, it seems. In need we are of crystals for the younglings' training lightsabres. Come to us you did immediately after we were aware of the need.

Master Yoda stayed silent for a few moments, as if pondering something. His expression soon cleared, and he fixed the padawan that stood before him with a piercing look.

“A test this shall be. Already attested to your abilities and temperament, Master Origin has. Quite certain he is that you soon will be ready to face the Trials. Decided, the Council has, to allow you to prove that. To Ilum you will go, to collect the crystals for your and the younglings' lightsabres.”

He seemed to already know what the padawan would say to that, and raised a hand to forestall his reply. “Not alone will you travel. On an important investigation, Master Origin is; we will not call him off it for this. Escorted you will be, by a Knight not many years older than you. By nightfall you must leave.”

“Thank yoo for thee trust yoo place in me, Masters,” Tell Cho replied.

“Be wary you must,” Yoda chided gently, sensing Tell's confidence. Master Windu nodded in agreement.

“There are some dangerous creatures on Ilum, padawan. Do not become overconfident and lose focus.”

Tell Cho bowed, and sensing that he should leave, turned and left the Council chamber.




Taking their warnings to heart, the seventeen year old Gossam requested a lightsabre from Master Drallig (“You must return it, or you will be replacing it, Padawan,” he had said), and prepared himself for the mission. Only a few articles of clothing were packed, to leave room for the much more necessary ration packs that he and his escort would need while on Ilum.

Then, when the sun began to set, he made his way to the Temple Hangars, and the courier ship that would take he and his escort to Ilum. There he saw the courier ship prepared and awaiting his arrival, with a tall cat-like Jedi speaking with Master Yoda. Both turned to greet him as he walked up.

“On time you are. Good, good!” Yoda said, smiling. “Padawan Cho, Knight Drin Kizael this is. Your escort he will be while your mission you complete.”

Tell Cho bowed respectfully. “I thank you for accompanying me on this mission, Knight Kizael,” he said carefully, trying not to let his accent make his words incomprehensible. “I am most grateful.”

"Ilum?" the Jedi asked, hoping he heard his mentor wrong. Drin Kizael shifted his gaze from Master Moorja to Master Yoda, who was sitting comfortably in his personal chamber.

Kizael stifled his kneejerk reaction. His people typically called any region with temperate, rolling grasslands home. In the comfort of their home world, Trianii even tended to live without need of clothes. Despite his best to appear neutral at the news that his destination would be an ice world in the Unknown Regions, Master Moorja smiled at him and nodded.

"But Tell is not my padawan," he said quickly, bordering on protest.

"In confidence he must grow," Yoda interjected. "Confidence tempered by wisdom. Soon, his trials he must face, as you passed yours not long ago."

Moorja Dreeshan regarded his former apprentice. "He needs to feel what it's like to be out there on his own, Kizael. Even if it's just to trek through the snow and do some mining. It's an important job. And if you run into a gorgodon, that's what you're there for."

"If help he requires, Hmmm," Yoda added. "Strong in the Force, is he. Aware of his potential, but also his limitations, he must become."

Kizael bowed and turned to go.

"Forget not," Yoda spoke up, drawing the attention of both Trianii towering over him. "Buy a parka, you should."

Kizael bowed again and walked away with a chuckle.

***

Tell Cho bowed respectfully. “I thank you for accompanying me on this mission, Knight Kizael. I am most grateful.”

"So formal." the Knight commented, offering a polite, but curt bow. "Outside of Council meetings, my name is just Kizael."

The two-hundred ten centimeter tall felinoid wore a green tunic with blue sleeves and beige shirt and pants under a brown traveling robe that almost matched his fur, save for the blonde of his jowls and eyes. He shifted the weight of his clothing pack and started to say more, but found himself cut off by the toot of an R2 mech rolling past and up the ramp of the ship.

"I guess we're ready for take off. Shall we?"

Tell nodded to Kizael and turned back to regard the diminutive Grand Master of the Jedi Order. He smiled slightly, a feeling of contentment washing through him at the joyful glow in the centuries old Jedi Master's eyes. Tell Cho knew he could spend the rest of his life as a Jedi and be happier than anything else he could have done.

Yoda smiled at the seventeen year old Gossam and said, “May the Force be with you, Padawan.”

“And with you, Masterr Yo-da,” he replied. He walked up the ramp and into the courier ship. It was small, but larger than he'd expected for this mission; other than that small surprise, he was familiar with the make and model of the ship.

“Kn...” he began to use the Trianii's title, but stopped himself short. It irked him slightly to be so informal with the elder Jedi, but he did not wish to cause any sort of awkwardness or discomfort to him.

“Ki-zael,” he called, pitching his voice so that he could be heard above the warming hum of the sub-light engines while making his way to the cockpit. “I am a-board.”

Kizael settled into the pilot's seat after running the pre-flight checks. Behind him, the bright green R2 droid rolled across the tiny cabin and secured itself into its dock, twittering in what he couldn't help but hear as annoyance. The Jedi glanced at his computer screen as text scrolled by.

"I'm sure you did, but if you don't mind I like to check the controls of a ship that I'm flying for myself, especially on a 12 hour trip into the Unknown Regions."

The astromech droned a reply, but no text appeared on the screen.

Kizael muttered to himself softly, "I swear ever since Anakin brought that damned blue one here..."

“Ki-zael, I am a-board.”

Drin flipped a switch to raise the ramp. This was going to be a long trip for such a small ship. He shuddered at the thought of anyone trying it in the even smaller Couriers berthed in the Temple hangars. Thankfully he used his height to his advantage again, convincing the deck captain that they needed an upgrade for practical purposes. They'd have to take shifts in the sleeper cabin as it is.

He looked over the shields and weapons again, with a tight exhale through his teeth. Two fixed-mounted cannons and a grade 1 shield gen. Of course they were going the opposite direction on the galactic plane from any pirate or Separatist activity.

"Dee 9 are you sure that Thelman converter was reinstalled? I'm still getting that glitch on my--"

The droid warbled and the readouts flickered for a second. "Ah. Thank you. Alright strap in."

Moments later the courier ship lifted off the platform and angled skyward.

Before entering the cockpit, he made sure to stow his bag and the other necessary items away in the proper places. He was especially careful with the box that held his nearly finished lightsabre. The hilt was longer than most, and it was designed to use a longer blade, so the crystals he needed would have to be larger and able to channel more energy.

The vastness of space greeted Tell Cho as he entered, and he noticed that Kizael looked at home where he sat in the pilot's seat. They had not yet entered hyperspace. Before he could say anything though, the R2 unit whistled in annoyance at him.

“Ex-cuse me,” he apologised, and the little droid made a rude noise and trundled past him to another part of the cockpit. He looked up to see Kizael giving him an amused look.

“Izz dere any-thing I can doo too help?” he asked, sitting and making himself comfortable in the co-pilot's chair, amused at the droid himself.

"At this point? No I think we're good. Maybe keep an eye on the plasma coil meters for me." Kizael said, gesturing to an array of LEDs across the console.

A mechanical voice crackled over the speakers. "Jedi vessel Obroa Wing you are cleared for jump on vector 75.27.3-Gamma."

The Trianii regarded his copilot with a casual glance. Even sitting he had to look down a little to make eye contact. Kizael idly wondered if their difference in physical stature was a factor in pairing him with Tell. There was certainly nothing wrong with confidence. Channeling the Force was impossible without strong faith in oneself. But Yoda had implied the young Gossam might need to be knocked down a peg, so to speak.

"Alright Dee-9, stop fussing and lock yourself back in," Drin called over his shoulder as they cleared the last of Coruscant's orbital platforms and headed for open space. The droid complied, surprisingly without comment.

"So," he said at length, "Been on many of these long jumps yet?"

(OOC: I'm tired of trying to figure out how to get his accent across. Think Davy Jones from Dead Man's Chest, and you'll be close enough.)


“No,” Tell replied after a moment, his speech still careful but not as slow as it had been, and retained much of his accent. “Many jumps of six hours, but only one so long as this. Mast-er Origin and I mediated a dispute on Malastare two years ago. That journey took the better part of a week, with several jumps like this. So I have experience, but not much. And no experience flying such long jumps.”

Kizael glanced questioningly at him, and Tell smiled slightly. “We were escorted by the Senator to the world on her ship.”

He glanced at the readouts for the plasma coils, noting that while they seemed to be a bit hotter than was usual, it was still within acceptable boundaries for stable engine output. While he was correct in a sense, his calculations were based on newer craft with better coolant systems. But that thought did not occur to him then; he was more than competent at technical tasks, and felt sure in his judgement.

“We are now out of the planet's gravity well,” he stated, fixing the restraints on the co-pilot's chair and making sure it was adjusted correctly.

With the gentle push of a lever, the stars outside the Obroa Wing elongated to hundreds of silver needles crossing the viewport and the ship lurched into a tunnel of swirling light. The inertial dampeners made the sudden leap of thousands of kilometers feel like little more than a sharp bump on a land speeder.

"Well don't go into a hibernation trance yet. The thing about traveling through the Core is that you can't get anywhere in a single jump." Drin leaned back in his seat. "The stars are so close together that getting anywhere is a series of minijumps. That's the real reason it takes so long. A good navigator can get you from Trian to Naboo faster than we can get to Corellia from here."

R2-D9 unbolted the restraints that kept him fastened to the wall, whistling a reply as he rolled out to the engine compartment.

Drin rolled his eyes. "Well maybe not faster than he could." He tapped a few keys on the navicomp, reading down the list that appeared on screen. "Only three for us. Twenty minutes to an hour each. Once we reach the Colonies, it's a straight shot on an uncharted hyperspace course that only the Jedi temple computers track. No one else bothers to."

The Jedi turned to the Padawan, who was still surprisingly attentive. "So I take it you haven't had any pilot training. You strike me as a Counselor in waiting."

Indeed, Tell Cho listened attentively to Kizael's response and tried to make sure that he retained as much as he could. The mention of Corellia reminded him of certain Jedi he'd met, and their flair for independence for the sake of independence, which stuck him as particularly foolish. They merely wished to 'have their cake and eat it too'; or so he thought of it. But, knowing how undiplomatic such a stance was, Tell Cho remained quiet on that topic, and let his distracting thoughts... float away, as it were.

"So I take it you haven't had any pilot training. You strike me as a Counselor in waiting."

“It is like there is a string attached to my soul that tugs me down the path I must take,” Tell replied. “My temperament lends itself to the study of the Force more than others', it seems. But I do have some experience piloting, though with simple single pilot ships, and not for such extended periods.”

He disconnected the restraints and regarded the scene of hyperspace with a thoughtful contentment, before turning to regard the much larger Jedi Knight. “I would actually like to ask you for some instruction on flying vessels such as this. It may yet prove useful in the future, I feel.”

The Jedi spent the better part of the next hour going over the finer mechanics of deep space travel. Given any pilot experience at all, it wasn't a difficult transition. From an operations perspective, flying anything smaller than a freighter is more or less the same. Starships were simply just air speeders with really big thrusters if your only focus was operating it. Things didn't get complicated until you had tactical systems to deal with or had to adjust the math for pushing more than 100 tons through space.

The Obroa Wing dropped back into realspace in a small system half a parsec from Ruan. Drin dropped the inertial dampeners down a notch and cut the stasis field, literally making the ships' speed feel faster.

"This isn't showing off," Drin commented as the system's largest planet crept into view ten thousand kilometers ahead. "A few g-forces helps me gauge maneuvers like this better."

"Man-euuvers?" Tell asked.

"Yes. The next jump vector is way over there," Kizael replied, pointing forward and to port. "That would take us half a day and burn through a fuel rod in realspace, and I'd be too likely to overshoot a microjump that short. So we're going to use that planet's gravity to get us to there a lot faster."

"A slingshot," Tell offered.

"Ah so you did have some traditional schooling after all. I was starting to wonder."

The planet lined up in front of them and began to grow in the viewport. "As I said, this isn't showing off. Honest. That's not the Jedi way." A half grin crept into his features. "But I have to confess, when I was younger, I found this quite fun."

Drin angled the ship perpendicular to the horizon, dropping the sublight engines to minimal thrust and coasting into edge of the planet's gravity well. The Obroa wing skimmed around the planet in a blinding arc, building enough force to push the Jedi back into their seats, until Drin pulled the controls back and they rocketed off again into the vacuum.

Twenty minutes later, the navicomputer chirped as the ship lined up with it's next jump coordinates and the stars again melted into hyperspace.

The Jedi reviewed some of the ship's details a bit more. He thought he'd run out of things to say but the inquisitive Padawan kept prompting him for more. More than once, Kizael mused quietly to himself how fortunate he was that Master Moorjah took him out into the field so often during his apprenticeship.

Soon they were back in realspace. Drin tapped a few keys, eased the controls in front of him back into a stationary position and gestured to the copilot's controls. "Okay this is the edge of the Colonies. Last jump then you can grab first shift in the bunk. Go ahead," he said casually.

Tell Cho looked at him blankly.

"Nothing fancy on this one. Just thirty-two degrees starboard and negative five degress zed. When the top bar on the navcomp is a solid five lights across, punch it." He leaned back in his seat.

After a moment he glanced over. "Take your time."

The next hour was very enlightening to the Gossam Padawan. He knew the bare operations of single pilot ship, but actual deep space travel and use of the nav-computer beyond simply inputting the coordinates that he was told to input was something he'd never actually learned. And it would be an understatement to note that Tell Cho loved learning.

So he bent his mind and attention to learning how to manipulate the controls of this ship to get them across vast distances in, literally, the blink of an eye. And whenever he didn't understand, or was lost, he asked questions. It was habit to him by now. For some time he'd been too timid to ask questions about things he didn't understand, as he didn't wish to be a bother to his teacher. Master Origin needed almost a complete year to drill that reaction out of his head and to ingrain the habit of inquisitiveness into his Padawan.

Kizael explained to him what he was doing when they reverted, and it took Tell a moment to understand why Kizael had removed the stasis field. He'd immediately understood what Kizael was going to do, but he'd held his tongue until he comprehended the need to feel the g-forces.

“A slingshot,” he offered, comprehension coming to him. The stasis field was like having one eye covered. It didn't remove sight, but it hindered depth perception. Removing it and allowing oneself to be subjected to the forces involved allowed for a clearer estimate of the speed and momentum of the craft. Of course there were gauges to indicate such things, but Tell understood that some enjoyed flying more through instinct and experience than through process and trust in gauges.

"Ah, so you did have some traditional schooling after all. I was starting to wonder."

And then they were off once more. He was glad, as the sensation of being forced into his seat by the force of gravity of the planet 'beneath' them was something that he was distinctly uncomfortable with. He would admit that there was an enjoyable thrill to it, however. He asked a few more questions about the slingshot manoeuvre, wondering about different speeds and the difficulty of estimating the gravitational pull of different planets. Time passed quickly in this manner, and soon they were on the edge of the Colonies, and preparing for the final stretch to Ilum.

"Okay this is the edge of the Colonies. Last jump then you can grab first shift in the bunk. Go ahead.”

Tell glanced blankly at the Knight.

"Nothing fancy on this one. Just thirty-two degrees starboard and negative five degrees zed. When the top bar on the nav-comp is a solid five lights across, punch it."

Tell nodded slightly, and began to mentally go over the processes that he had recognized in space-flight. It was much easier than he had expected, especially since he was constantly funnelling his nervousness into the Force, allowing himself to focus on the task at hand and not his fear of failure.

Soon enough, the bar was five lights across and Tell pushed the lever controlling the hyperdrive forward, the view outside once more streaming into points of light until they had completely entered hyperspace.

“Not bad,” Kizael said, looking at him with a distinctly happy expression on his face. Tell gave an uncharacteristic smile. “A bit more practice needed on the timing, but not bad at all.”

Kizael shifted in his seat. “You must be tired, Tell,” he said. “Go on, hit the bunk, and I'll wake you when my shift is up.”

Tell nodded as he stood. “Thank you.”

He'd almost reached the bunk when the ship shuddered, and the distinct sound of an explosion sent more tremors throughout the ship. Accompanying it was the squeal of the R2 unit that had been so rude to him in the cockpit.

It must have been in the back... in the engine compartment. He rushed into the smoky room and saw the droid laying on the floor, its chassis looking slightly burned and blackened. His eyes swept the small compartment and began to note the damage.

“Tell? Tell?!” He heard Kizael calling out. He absently flicked the switch to the comm.

“Kizael,” he said. “I am uninjured. The astromech droid looks in need of some new parts, but still seems functional. I am unsure what happened; I shall check to see what damages we have incurred and what can be done.”

As Tell left the cockpit, Kizael leaned back and closed his eyes with a cleansing breath. He was far more fatigued than he should be, and needed a drink for his dry throat after all that talking. He'd decided long ago that he wasn't cut out to be a parent, whether active in the Jedi Order or not. Nothing at all against the reserved and amazingly polite Gossam, but he now amended that to include that he wasn't wired to be a teacher either. There'd be no padawn in his future.

Drin's eyes jerked open as the sound of an explosion and the shriek of an R2 unit echoed in his mind. He shifted his gaze abruptly around the console. Outside, the light show of hyperspace danced past the viewport. The hum of the engines continued its steady rhythm across the hull. The Jedi quickly realized what had just happened and unlocked the pilot controls.

Suddenly the ship lurched forward. An explosion and piercing wail of R2-D9 rang in his ears, but he was too focused on holding the ship steady. The translucent tunnel outside melted before his eyes into erratically swirling stars. Somewhere in the mix he became aware of a power surge erupting in a flash of sparks.

His arms locked with tension as adrenaline washed over him, but quickly faded as he fought to channel his panic through the Force. Soon the wild traces of light settled into pinpoints against empty space. Kizael eased his grip, letting out a measured sigh. Then he smelled the smoke.

He started to get up out of his seat, but stopped short when he saw the sleeper cabin's door open down the ship's single corridor. There was no one inside. Kizael whirled back around and jabbed the comlink controls.

"Tell? TELL!?"

“Kizael,” the electronically filtered voice finally replied. “I am uninjured. The astromech droid looks in need of some new parts, but still seems functional. I am unsure what happened; I shall check to see what damages we have incurred and what can be done.”

Drin took a careful look over the console with new eyes. They had partial sensors, but no external comlink. He had no way of knowing the temperature of the plasma coil or the state of the reactor, but the rad counter was floating right where it should be and the hull hadn't melted, so he took one problem off his mind. Maneuvering thrusters were online, but the sublight engine was anybody's guess.

The navicomputer showed no life except a whiff of ozone. And if the sensors really were working, there wasn't a celestial body within a light year.

Kizael frowned. He'd have to worry about that later. He tapped the comlink again. "I'll be right there."

Tell heard the Trianii's reply to his update, but said nothing as he set the astromech droid aright.

“There,” he said. “How are your damages?”

The droid's sensory light flickered on and the domed top swivelled around a few times, almost like a creature rolling its shoulders to check for pain and bruising. After that it seemed to gingerly move about, testing its legs for any damages. It gave a relieved sounding whistle after this, which Tell chose to receive as a sign that it would be all right. With that done, he turned his attention to the sparking hyperdrive engine that sat in front of him and the droid.

Gingerly, Tell removed a panel and began inspecting the alluvial damper.

...There is some scarring, but nothing to show that this caused the malfunction, he thought to himself as soon as he made sense of the odd configuration. It was an older model. The smoke had lessened now, but its colour and the heat emanating from the area where it was pouring out led him to believe that something had gone wrong with the...

“The transpacitor,” he murmured. Next would be the plasma coils, if he could find them on this ship. Whatever the damage was, it couldn't have been too bad, considering that the shielding had held and the Obroa Wing was now not a jumble of particles in hyperspace.

Drin walked up to a panel outside the engine compartment and cranked up the air scrubbers. Seconds later, the last of the smoke dissipated with a whoosh of recycled air piped in.

He paused at the sight of the blasted out hyperdrive generator. "I told you that thelman converter was still glitching," he said, regarding R2-D9 flatly.

The astromech twittered a little too loudly in defensive tones. "How can you say it's not your fault? Your sole function in life is to maintain the ship you're assigned to. You just don't take someone at their word that they fixed it for you."

The Jedi sighed at the realization that he was arguing with a droid. "Besides, I wasn't blaming you." Though if this is reflective of the droid's usual performance, he added silently, he probably has this conversation a lot. "Take a look outside to see if the damage extends to the field emitters." Dee-9 whistled and rolled out toward the airlock.

Right now Kizael was more concerned with the ripple effect that the explosion caused on the ship's systems -- like life support. Whatever happened, happened, and did not change their current reality.

He glanced at Padawn Cho, who was busy examining the hyperdrive motivator with the critical eye of an engineer. He had taken note of the Gossam's academic approach to understanding the Force earlier. Seeing his interest now in the inner workings of the ship, after learning that he had little practical experience flying one lent weight to Kizael's suspicion that the young sentient leaned toward the Unifying Force school of Jedi philosphy.

No wonder Yoda liked him. The tiny Master had a tendency to favor those who were more attuned to the broader and esoteric sides of the Force. He pushed that line of thought aside for now and refocused on the ship's self diagnostic.

Several minutes later, the sound of the airlock door announced the return of R2-D9, who announced that all systems accessible from the hull were in optimal parameters.

"Well you two have things well in hand back here. I'm going to assess the damage that the power surge had on navigation and control. Then hopefully we can figure out where we are."

The hours crawled by painfully slow. The damage to the hyperdrive control system was extensive, requiring the focus of all three passengers doing what they could to bring the ship back to life. R2-D9 brought up the long range sensors first at Kizael's insistence.

Toward the end of the repair work, the big Trianii left the crowded engine compartment for the cockpit. He sat in the pilot's seat for several long stretches, not so much studying the star charts generated by the rewired navicomputer as just staring at them.

At one point he instructed everyone to stop what they were doing and step away from the generator. Once clear, he guided the ship into a new vector and fired a burst from the sublight engines, launching the ship into a new orbit.

At long last R2-D9 trundled down the corridor, reporting that the engines were as functional as they were going to be. The part that the astromech left unspoken was that the hyperdrive motivator was shredded beyond repair in the blast. He did feel it worth mentioning that highest they could get the core's field integrity to was sixty-three percent and that comlinks were capable of local transmissions only. No signals farther than a solar system would be picked up any time this year.

Upon scanning the star chart, the droid followed up with a curt reply. Kizael glanced at the translation on the front console, though he already knew what it would say.

"Yes. I know Brentaal is ten parsecs away. Have you looked at what's between us on the nav chart?"

The droid started to reply, but cut himself short with a long, out a drawn out tone.

"Exactly. It may as well be across the galaxy." At that, the droid began to launch into a panicky string of beeps and whistles, drawing Tell Cho to the cockpit.

"The little one could use some meditation training," Kizael mused to the padawan with a wry smirk.

"Dee-9," he urged. The droid grew silent. Kizael traced a finger along a thin white line on the star chart, a tiny but stable hyperlane mere light hours from the position. R2-D9 twittered happily and pivoted out back to mind the engines.

Thanks to the course change Drin had made hours earlier, they were moving toward it, though it would take the better part of a day to reach it. From there, for Tell's benefit since the droid had left, he traced the arc into a brighter red line, and from there around a path through the Core to the first planet that came closest to crossing its path.

"Rendili? But we cannot jump to hyperspace. Why not just find the closest system?"

"Even in the Core, no two inhabited star systems are closer than four or five parsecs apart. Out here, without long range coms, we wouldn't come within civilization for at least, oh twenty years on sublight propulsion."

"So how are we...?" Tell's voice trailed off. If not for a decade of Jedi training, he might have heard worry creep into his tone.

"The same way Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi got Senator Amidalla across 5,000 parsecs from Naboo to Tatooine without hyperdrive," Kizael replied as he turned to monitor the console.

"In space, distance is irrelavant. Hyperspace binds this galaxy together as surely as the Force itself. The motivator can't hold enough power to jump out of realspace, but we can rig the horizontal booster to feed enough power to the drive to form a null quantum field strong enough to phase between dimensions."

Kizael regarded Tell, who was trying to absorb the situation. R2 began rattling off a more technical explanation, but Drin cut him off. "At that point we would be not unlike a sailboat on Mon Cal waters, at the mercy of solar winds and gravitational forces that form that path through the stars."

"But that," he added sharply, tapping the star chart, "is the Hydian Way. One of the largest and most stable routes in this galaxy. If we can stay on course, we'll be across the Core to Rindilli inside two or three days. Then we can contact the Temple."

Tell's eyes shifted unconsciously toward a life support systems panel.

"Let me get us to this first nexus, then I'll wake you."

Tell hesitated, as if he were going to argue with Kizael about that, but finally nodded once in acquiescence. This mission was getting complicated, but he was glad that the Knight was with him; it was likely that without the Trianii, Tell would have been lost.

His feet thumped quietly along the deck, and he focussed on the sounds, letting them take his attention of the course of events and where they were leading. As it was, he doubted he would be getting much sleep. However, now seemed a particularly good time to meditate and calm himself, so he could listen to the Force.

Inside the small room, Tell saw nothing but an equally small bunk and a small amount of floor space. Letting the small amount of frustration he was feeling trickle into the Force, the Gossam sat down on the bunk and closed his eyes, searching out the connection that would hopefully reveal to him where this all was headed.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Tell opened his eyes. The Force hadn't been completely clear, as though a fog or a mist, though a light one, were steadily building up. However, he did get the clear impression that the Force was with them and leading them to some particular end. Feeling less fatigued than before, but not particularly rested, he stood and made his way to show, in some small part, his gratitude to Kizael.

“You need to sleep. The faster I learn how to steer us true, the faster you can rest,” he said, entering the cockpit determinedly.

The journey had been as quiet and uneventful as one would expect traveling through an endless void, light years away from civilization. The view was nowhere as spectacular without the usual hyperspace light show racing by, though they did have a nice view of the Drasi Nebula lazily creeping across the top of the viewport, visible to the naked eye as they traced an orbit only four parsecs away.

“You need to sleep," Kizael heard from behind him. The Jedi turned in his seat, with a curious eye. "The faster I learn how to steer us true, the faster you can rest.” He regarded the Padawan, approaching like a Gossam on a mission.

Guiding the ship between nexus points wasn't terribly complicated. Kizael compared the mechanics to driving a sand skimmer, settling on an analogy he figured a saurian could best relate to. He pointed out the key instruments, most notably the navicomp chart and the null quantum field integrity, which kept them in synch with the hyperlane.

"I was off a bit in my calculations," Kizael confessed eventually. "This flight will take just shy of 3 weeks." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "The good news is because we disabled the stasis field to conserve power, at this speed the trip will only feel like 3 days."

"The first thing we'll need to do is get a message to Coruscant to call off the search parties," he added. "Doubtless we'll have at least a few people worried, but rest assured they know we're alive. The Force would have told our respective Masters otherwise."

Kizael smirked and stood up, patting Tell on the shoulder. "When the chart shows us within a light year of the Hydian Way, wake me."

As Kizael made his way to the bunk, Tell Cho found himself somewhat mired in his thoughts. He knew quite clearly that he'd never be an excellent pilot. That required something close to talent and desire, something that Tell did not have very much of before, and only to a slightly larger degree now.

Pulling himself from his thoughts enough to keep an eye on the different instruments that needed to be watched, he leaned back in the seat and regarded the view from the cockpit in silence.



It seemed like an eternity had passed while waiting for the distance to disappear between them and galactic civilization. Finally, the imaginary point was crossed on the navicomp chart; Tell stood and made his way to the bunk.

“Kizael,” he announced, “We are one light year from the Hydian Way.”

Kizael's eyes opened at the sound of Tell's voice. He felt like he'd barely slept, an ironic notion given that the ship had been traveling through space for several days at least. Time dilation was a tricky concept to wrap one's mind around, one that sentients haven't had to worry about for some twenty thousand years of deep space travel.

The Trianii returned to the pilots seat to perform the surprisingly anti-climactic maneuver of switching hyperlanes on a nexus. As simple a process as it was to follow the course mapped by the navicomp, though, Kizael felt better safe than sorry with an inexperienced pilot. The droid had more pressing matters to attend to, as well.

And so it went for an amount of time that neither Jedi cared to think about. They took shifts at the console. Outside of piloting, there was very literally nothing to do in the ship's only three other compartments, the sleeper, the engine room, and the storage bay.

Kizael shared stories of his homeworld, Trian, on the far end of the galaxy in a small sector beyond the borders of the Corporate Sector Authority. He talked about his first space flight when he was a cub with Master Moorja Dreeshan, the only other Trianii Jedi known to either of them.

In the course of conversation, Kizael mentioned he possessed the rare talent of energy absorption, similar though not quite as powerful as Neeja Halcyon's gift. That common ability sparked their long friendship, and inspired Kizael to build a silver lightsabre, one of many unconventional choices he'd made in his time with the Order.

The beeping of the navicomp almost took the Jedi by surprise. R2-D9 confirmed that they were, indeed, on approach to the Rendili system.

"At last," Kizael sighed as he rose from the sleeper cabin bunk to return to the cockpit.

Tell Cho was not a completely silent participant in their conversations. He spoke of how he'd come into the Jedi Temple; how after helping a Gossam member of the Commerce Guild, Knight Origin been invited to their cave to see their nest. Knight Origin had sensed the Force potential Tell had within his particular egg, and had bargained with the Gossam parents to pay off what they “owed” the Jedi by allowing their nestling to be trained as a Jedi.

He also spoke of how it had been difficult for him to pick up Galactic Basic, and so Master Origin and his teachers had tried to find someone with an accent that could be duplicated by the saurian, eventually finding a man with a thick accent that complemented Cho's vocal abilities well. Tell was smiling as he recounted how no one could understand either of them for the next month due to the accents, and the many misunderstandings and small pranks that had been pulled with it until he had finally managed to work himself into an understandable mode of speech.

The console beeped, bringing Tell from his half-meditative and half active state, and Kizael was returning to the cockpit. The reversion of power from the drive went smoothly, and they slowed down. Tell did surprisingly well for himself in this, as it seemed that he absorbed the processes of “sailing” far more easily than actually piloting through hyperspace.

Looking over the communications console, he frowned slightly.

“We are receiving a weak signal from just outside the Rendili system. Only audio as well.”

He strengthened the signal as well as he could, and played it.

“...overcome. Several crew members with blasters have taken the ship, and some pirates who must have stowed away. I don't know how long I can hide before they find me. Please, help us. Whoever's out there, please, help us.”

The audio message shifted into static once more punctuated by speech that was only barely audible and indecipherable. Then it cleared and they heard the plea for help and the little information that wasn't very informative.

“It's looped,” Tell surmised. “I am tracking the signal now.”

They were still light hours from the edge of the system. Given how weak the Obroa Wing's com array was, it was unlikely the source of the transmission was anywhere near the planet. A ping on the short range sensors less than 100,000 km away confirmed that.

As he scanned the starfield, Kizael's mind sifted through several possibilities. The hijacked ship had most likely dropped out of a microjump from Rendili. Whether that was because the pirates had another course in mind or whether something had gone wrong remained to be seen.

"There," Kizael said at length, pointing out the viewport as the message cycled again. He tapped a key and a hologram of a GX1 pleasure yacht appeared on the console. Just then the transmission cut out sharply to static before it reached the end of another loop.

Without further ceremony, Kizael channeled more power into the sublight engines and turned to port. R2-D9 veered around the corner from the engine room, twittering wildly.

"Dee-9, lock yourself in," Kizael interrupted sharply with a hint of a growl. "Find the access code on that ship's docking port." The astromech squealed an objection, rambling about the state of the engines and lack of shields.

"Now," Kizael ordered, this time with a definite growl in his tone. The droid pivoted, and wheeled into his dock.

Kizael eased into a course directly parallel with the GX1. "The Force is with us," Kizael mused aloud. "If they were heading the opposite direction this would never work."

"What would never work?" Tell asked from the copilot's chair.

"Do you have the access code?" Kizael prompted, keeping his eye on the ship. R2-D9 beeped affirmative. "Feed it to the copilot's screen." Kizael turned to Tell and pointed to the readout of number scrolling in front of him. "Memorize that," he added softly.

Still seeming to be in his own universe, he cut power to the sublight thrusters. The big Trianii pivoted in his seat to face the astromech. "Slow us down gradually until you are within 1 or 2 km. At that point, match their speed and vector exactly. Scramble their sensors. They've doubtless noticed us by now, but have yet to scan us." The droid complied, sending a short burst of static through the ship's speakers. "Now listen," Kizael continued a breath later. "Prepare a distress signal. There was an accident aboard the ship. The crew is dead. If they ask what's blocking their sensors, tell them it's the hyperdrive core leak."

Tell and Dee-9 interjected simultaneously. "The what?"

"You need help getting to Rendili," Kizael said without missing a beat. He turned to Tell Cho. "There's a vac suit in back small enough for you. Put it on, quickly. When we're close enough, you will jump to the other ship. Use the code to gain access to the docking port." He cut himself off and turned to R2-D9. "Send a schematic of the ship with the docking port highlighted on his heads up display once he's suited up."

Tell got up promptly, but hesitated at the door to the cockpit. Turning back he asked, "What about you?"

Drin Kizael looked back with a slight glimmer in his eye. "I'll be right behind you."

Tell Cho shook his head slightly as he entered the access code he had memorized on Kizael’s insistence. He still had no idea what Kizael was thinking; but as inexperienced as he was with adventures of this kind, he was willing to trust the Knight over his own sense of misgiving about the situation.

Silently, the docking port opened. Tell was tempted to look back to see what Kizael had planned, but he instead made his way carefully to the edge of the now open port to check inside and make sure everything was the way it should be.

It was at this odd moment that he was reminded of Master Yoda’s teaching that ‘crave excitement or adventure, Jedi do not!’; he was quite amenable to that particular line of thinking now. It seemed that at the time, an adventure is something someone is trying to find their way out of, instead of continuing or finding their way into. All he wanted at the moment was to make his way to Rendili, contact the Temple, and continue his mission to Ilum, which would be in itself an adventure.

The port was clear of debris or any other inhibiting feature. He made his way into the port proper, remaining silent. Though he wished to tell Kizael that the port was open, the transmission could be picked up by the vessel, and ruin the plan that they (Kizael) had thrown together on such short notice. Tell Cho had no better ideas to go about this impromptu rescue mission, so he wasn’t going to scrap the only one they’d had so far.

Kizael wasn't sure what to make of Tell's reaction, the way he so quietly found the vac suit and jumped out the airlock. He was actually taken aback with how suddenly he seemed to move and was gone.

He had sensed hesitation from the Padawan, as if he was just obeying orders. That was cause for concern. Yoda's comment about how the boy -- not much younger than himself -- needed to recognize both his potential and his limits began swimming through his mind.

As the Jedi stood before the damaged engines of the ship, he idly wondered what kind of taskmaster the Padawan had grown used to during his training. While he had to admit he was abrupt with formation of the plan, if the Gossam had questions, he would have answered them in the minute or so they had while he donned the vac suit.

The role of the Force in bringing them to this time and place was undeniable. Hearing the distress call had brought all of the Trianii's focus into that single moment and compelled him to act.

Time had become a critical factor. If they could see the cruiser, the cruiser could undoubtedly see them. The recorded message had been cut off, which meant that the hijackers were in control of the bridge. They had an unknown number of seconds before the pirates would notice the sudden appearance of the small courier vessel and scan it.

Without stealth capabilities, they could not just fly up to the bigger ship and dock or they risked the lives of the hostages. If the pirates scanned them and found two life forms aboard, they would become suspicious if those lifeforms suddenly disappeared. So R2-D9 needed to jam them, which in itself was suspicious without a good explanation for why their senors were scrambled.

Which led Kizael back to this moment. He took a deep, measured breath. There was only one usable vac suit left after the blast which had crippled their hyperdrive. That certainly complicated the plan, but ultimately did not matter in the bigger picture. The ship needed evidence of a radiation leak to explain why the hull was scrambling sensor signals. And Kizael needed a lot of energy for what he needed to do next.

As if on cue, static flooded the comlink. The pirates were trying to send a signal through the interference. Dee-nine replied with a rapid chorus of beeps and whistles transmitting his own distress beacon as rehearsed.

By now the pirate leader was getting suspicious. Kizael could sense it. Although the GX1 yacht had minimal defensive weaponry, R2-D9 kept a good distance just in case. So far the story didn't add up, but it was about to.

Kizael ignited his lightsabre.

[OOC: More to come]

The bridge of the cruise liner Sergosa Royale was deathly quiet, save for the static feedback looping through the comlink. Most of the stations had a crewer in place, one with a blaster pointed at his head. Two dead bodies slumped against the door that led to the rest of the ship. The feeling of stifled fear was palpable.

Vikter Merik leaned over the communications array, frowning at what he was seeing, more accurately at what he was not seeing. He turned toward the the Sullustan sitting in the pilot seat, taking a second to acknowledge the actual pilot laying dead on the floor.

A burly Trandoshan promptly responded to Merik's pointed look. He lowered his blaster from the navigator's face with a departing snarl of warning, walked over and hoisted the pilot's body, dragging it unceremoniously into the pile leaning against the access door.

Merik returned his attention to the Sullustan. "Nakriib," he barked. "You sure the sensors weren't damaged when Sskagen started shooting?"

The Trandoshen growled irritably at the backhanded comment. Nakriib jabbered a reply that sounded far too technical to be a simple yes or no. "So they're jamming us," Merik cut him off sharply. "Line them up with the quad turret."

Just then a string of beeps and whistles cut through the static. "What the hell's that? An astromech?" Merik's cold blue eyes narrowed as text scrolled across the comlink's data screen. The human stood up straight, scratching his ungainly blonde beard. "You gotta be kidding me."

Nakriib shared his cynicism, but commented on how nothing surprised him anymore after watching this whole job go sideways so suddenly. The fact that a strange crewless courier ship had suddenly appeared was just one more freak variable for the tally sheet.

Merik had to concede. His brilliant plan turned into a chaotic mess before it was even cleared out of the launch bay.

One of his guys had pulled the trigger way too soon, and for once it wasn't Sskagen. Somehow ship's security was triggered less than a minute into hyperspace. Every deck was locked down, making it a job unto itself just to get into the bridge. Then the co-pilot got away. That one he could blame on Sskagen.

And all this time, only half the passengers were rounded up in the main ballroom. There were only 2 guys and the jury rigged security droid watching two dozen odd hostages because Zeedor and Nix were still sweeping for stragglers.

Namely the whole reason they hijacked this ship in the first place, the damn Prince.

Nakrib offered the fact that they were mere light hours from the most likely exit point for a damaged ship if the droid had skimmed a hyperlane to get here.

"Yeah but why jam us?" Merik countered irritably.

Nakrib explained that the hull was ionized and their exhaust trail showed signs of a coolant leak. A core breach would definitely scramble any signals trying to scan or communicate.

Merik looked at the sensor again. The radiation levels were negligible, but enough to back up the distress call coming from the ship.

"Cut the com," Merik grumbled at length. "Keep an eye on him just in case, but we got bigger things to worry about."

He walked across the bridge to the exit, stopping to face Sskagen. "Can you handle this," he said, waving idly to indicate the cowering crewman shaking in their seats.

The Trandoshan sneered at Merik, barring his razor teeth, but the smaller human only glared back. The pirate leader held his gaze for another two full heartbeats. Sskagen never looked away, but relaxed his posture and nodded.

Merik hit the door switch and stepped over the pile of bodies on his way out.

The Jedi Knight stopped in front of the airlock door, tightening a breath mask over his face and mentally preparing himself for his next move. White mist rolled out of the vents, backwash from the coolant leak mixing with the exhaust. The air around him shimmered in a translucent aura, sending the on-board rad counters into fits as he walked through the ship.

A sense of determination washed over Kizael, prompting him to tap the airlock access pad and step in. He stood in the compartment for another heartbeat after the door closed, confirming that R2-D9 was overriding the safety controls to keep the airlock pressurized.

Yoda's words about accepting one's limitations returned to him with new meaning. The Force itself was endless, but it's effectiveness was limited to the focus and will of its wielder. He was still mortal. The amount of radiation he could channel had limits. He had tested them. The telekinetic stasis field pressing a thin layer of air around his body would only last as long as he remained in control. And conscious.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yoda's words, followed by facts about the effects of sudden decompression and exposure to solar radiation crept silently back into a dark corner and locked themselves away. Instead he focused on the distance between the two ships and the amount of kinetic energy that would be propelling his body, both from the escaping atmosphere from the droid's elevator shaft and the Force that he was welling up around him.

He closed his eyes. He'd be out there for ten seconds.

Maybe twelve.

Kizael pulled the hatch, catapulting into the vacuum of space. Immediately he felt radiation bleed off him as it fended off the assault of solar rays from reaching his body. With each escaping particle, he felt himself get colder.

He focused his entire being on the oncoming yacht and on the sound of his measured breathing through the mask. His mind reached out for Tell Cho, guiding the Force to adjust his momentum toward the Padawan and the open docking portal.

At least, that dark corner of his mind called out, it had better be open.

It was with wide-eyed astonishment that Tell Cho watched the Knight jump through the near vacuum of space with nothing but an oxygen mask and the Force.

‘He is mad,’ was the only thing Padawan Cho could really think at the moment. Even so, Tell reached out with the Force as quickly as he could, and tugged Kizael into the docking port with as much strength as he could, while remaining as careful and gentle as was possible. Within a few seconds, Kizael was in the docking port, and Cho was hurriedly entering the commands to close the hatch and pressurize the now sealed environment as quickly as possible. The normal mix of oxygen and nitrogen hissed in through the vents, and the pressure slowly rose to the levels found on the ship.

“You are mad,” the padawan said quietly as soon as he had taken the helmet of the vac suit off. In his distress, his accent had slipped a bit, making it a bit harder to distinguish.

Kizael sat on the floor of the airlock with his back against the wall, willing his breathing to remain steady. As he saw Tell remove his helmet, he let go of the telekinetic field sheathing his body, welcoming the rush of warm air against his fur.

"You are mad," tell whispered.

Kizael smiled. "I've been called worse," he said, followed by a sharp laugh caused be a mix of intense relief and the dramatic imbalance of oxygen in his lungs.

He stayed on the floor for a few more measured breaths. At length he said, "The moment we came in sight of the yacht, I felt the swirl of emotions on the bridge. Had we stayed aboard the courier ship, the pirates would have vaporized it. They were most definitely not of a mind to negotiate."

The Trianii climbed up to his full height, taking his lightsabre off his belt and giving it a cursory inspection. "Now we have the element of surprise. The one gamble was the expectation that since they had just hijacked the ship, they had deactivated the security system."

Kizael hit the airlock controls. "Judging by the silence and absence of blasters pointed at us, they did indeed turn off the intruder alarms. They may have noticed this access port being used, though. Stay alert. I still sense many sentients on this ship, so the hijackers must be holding hostages somewhere. Finding them is our first priority."

He peered out into the hall, gripping his lightsabre loosely in one hand. "Are you ready?"

Tell Cho stripped off the rest of the vac suit quickly, and unclipped the borrowed lightsabre from its place on his belt. He quickly estimated its heft and how it fit within his three fingered hands. Suddenly a sense of loss struck him when he remembered that his own lightsabre hilt was still on the Obroa Wing, bereft though it was of the crystals essential to its use. Though the distracting sense was pushed away, he still hoped that they’d be able to retrieve it after they had rescued the crew from these pirates. It didn’t seem likely, but he had put too much into it to be unaffected by its loss.

“Are you ready?” Kizael asked. Tell nodded, and turned to the panel that would open the inner hatch of the docking port to the ship proper. With a few deft strokes, the panel let out a small tone and the hatches opened.

***

“Marie,” he gasped. She turned to look at him. “We should be fine for a moment. Nix and that Rodian are still looking for us, but I think we lost them back at the holotheatre.”

Marie stood there, gasping a bit herself, as she looked down both ends of the corridor they were in. Seeing nothing, she nodded, and couldn’t repress a grim smile at how Jun nearly collapsed in relief.

“We won’t be resting for too long, Jun,” she reminded him. “It’s not safe.”

He nodded in return, his breathing slowing down. Marie wasn’t one to say, but as far as she could tell, they were handling this situation better than she would have expected them to. Wasn’t the stereotype of the children of the rich that they were the first to break and fold at the signs of danger? They had run, yes, but they hadn’t panicked. Even so, Jun’s knuckles were almost white from how tightly he gripped the blaster that he had picked up from the dead bodyguard.

“Do you think that Lam managed to get that distress call off?” he asked. Marie shrugged, suddenly depressed. Lam had needed to stay with the beacon to make sure that the signal was being sent, but with Nix and that Rodian on their tails, he’d told them to keep going. He was most likely dead now.

A sudden sound of thudding boots on the floor brought them both up and running before they could think anything else, much less say anything.

“Here!” Marie hissed, tugging Jun into a small closet in a branching hallway. They were close to the passenger cabins now. The door slid shut silently just as their pursuers came up on the branching in the hallway.

The Rodian was speaking quickly, but neither of the teens could understand what was being said. Nix could understand him, however, and his response told them enough.

“No!” he growled. “Vikter wants ‘em alive, understand? He knows more about this than you do, professional pirate or not!”

A sudden chirping cut off whatever response the Rodian had in store. The voices were getting nearer.

“Vikter?” Nix said. “We haven’t got those kids yet, but that’ll just be in a few moments.”

“One of the docking ports on the starboard side just activated. Go and check it out. It might be those kids are trying to play with us.”

Nix swore. “It can’t be them! There’s no way they could have gotten down there when we just heard them up here!”

Vikter’s tone chilled. “There’s ways. Those kids would know them too, the little brats. Go and check it out. Even if it isn’t, it means someone’s playing around where they shouldn’t be; kill whoever’s doing it if it isn’t the kids. If it is them, you can shoot the arms or legs, but they’re not worth half as much dead, understand?”

“Yeah,” Nix replied sourly. “I understand. Out.”

The tapping of the two’s boots faded as they made their way to follow Vikter’s orders. Marie and Jun looked at each other and slipped quietly out into the hallway.

“Think someone got the distress beacon?” Jun asked. Marie shrugged.

“It seems like it, though it doesn’t make much sense. We gotta warn them, anyway,” Marie responded. Jun nodded.

“Come on then. I know a short cut.”

Drin Kizael and Tell Cho made their way quietly out of the maintenance bay and into the posh interior of the ship. Rich reds and golds dominated the decor, weaving through the carpet, the paint, and the tapestries lining the walls. Overhead, light emanated from ornate crystal glowpanels.

Kizael held his lightsabre comfortably in his hand. His senses stretched out in all directions as he padded across the carpet. Soon they reached the end of the hallway, leaving the rows of passenger quarters and entering a wide, spacious part of the deck equipped with a pool, a bar, and several gaming tables.

The Trianii gestured and pointed to an elevator and a stairwell across the pool, marked to indicate crew access. He'd taken only two steps toward it when a presence rippled through the Force.

Both Jedi looked up simultaneously toward a side hallway. Kizael extended his lightsabre arm out to the side, but did not ignite the weapon. Whoever was approaching was anxious and scared, but not hostile, and moving too quickly to be a patrol.

Two young humans in their early to mid teens ran into the courtyard. They were dressed in expensive clothes, though wrinkled and hanging loose from too much running and climbing. The girl's skirt was torn. Both had brown hair and round faces with only subtle variations in their eyes, though the boy was a good head and shoulders taller than the girl, making it hard to tell which was older.

The pair stopped suddenly, practically stumbling over themselves in surprise, then just stood there for half a second looking at Kizael and Tell as if figuring out how to react.

"Jedi?" the boy exclaimed. "For real?"

The girl gripped the older boy's arm as she cut in, "They're coming this way. Two of them."

One of Tell’s digits was dangerously close to the activation switch on his borrowed lightsabre when he turned to see the two children. Not one of the many questions he had were uttered, however, when the girl took charge and said, “They’re coming this way. Two of them.”

“We should learn more of the situation before anyone else gets hurt,” he said, glancing at Kizael. He was still a bit worried about the elder Jedi due to the fact that he’d just thrown himself into space using only the Force and an oxygen mask to keep safe. Even if the Trianii was ready, a bit more rest would never hurt, and using the Force like that must be taxing.

A twinge in the Force had him turning back to the turbolift. Surprisingly, only the girl seemed to grow more distressed as the seconds wore on. The boy had actually calmed down a bit.

“It’s them!” the girl said urgently. “Come on, before they see us!”

“Don’t worry, Marie,” the boy replied. “These are Jedi. You see what they’re carrying? Only Jedi carry those. It’s like a law or something. And everyone knows Jedi can’t be killed. A few more wouldn’t hurt though, I guess. Any more coming?”

Tell blinked and grinned, somewhat amused by the boy’s estimation of their abilities, but he withheld comment, letting Kizael take control of the situation. Inwardly he hoped that Kizael would choose more direct path; caution was always the more sober path, but sometimes inaction could lead to a fatal error; and the attackers would have no idea they were fighting Jedi. Only his worry for Kizael kept him from immediately finding his way to the bridge and cutting off the problem from the source. With the ship under control, the attackers would fold, sooner or later.

The padawan kept his head, though. He looked at Kizael, and waited for the elder Jedi’s decision.

Kizael eyed the turbolift as the boy deliberated about Jedi folklore. His ears crooked up when he asked, "Any more coming?”

"No," Kizael replied flatly, though his soft voice had a way of taking the edge off of the bad news.

Marie interjected quickly, "We heard em say something about an airlock. They thought it was us."

Again he found himself in a position where time to plan would have been welcome, but his window of opportunity to act was being measured in seconds. They were caught out in the open, with no suitable cover in the auditorium sized rec area, and two armed pirates approaching. Worse than the enemy's blasters, though, were the comlinks they carried which would alert their leader and endanger the hostages.

"Now we need you to go hide behind that bar," Kizael continued as calmly as he could. He pointed and waved to urge them on. With the other hand, he gently pushed on Tell's shoulder to guide him back into the hallway where they had come.

"Stay down and keep very quiet," he continued even as he walked. "Do not come out until one of us says so, understood?" His awareness of two sentients in the turbolift grew sharper. "Don't make a sound," he added with a finger held up before his mouth.

"Marie?" he whispered sharply. She stopped short just as her brother ducked behind the bar. Kizael raised two fingers with a questioning look and a nod. Marie nodded back. He smiled and waved for her to hide next to her brother.

The two Jedi backed out into the hall, around the corner of the only exit from the room that led toward the maintenance bay and the airlock -- and the closest place that would provide any cover from view, especially for the 2 meter tall Trianii.

Tell obeyed Kizael’s commands, and they were soon hidden behind the corner. Tell had insisted on taking the position closest to the doorway, and was going over the non-lethal combat techniques he’d learned in his time as a Jedi.

“No lightsabres, Tell,” the Trianii said. “We need to knock them out quickly, before they can alert the others, and we don’t need any accidental injuries getting in the way.”

The Gossam nodded, and listened carefully for the chime announcing the turbolift’s arrival. When it came, he glanced back at Kizael, who glanced down at him and nodded. With a returning nod, the Gossam prepared to subdue his opponent.

***

Jun and Marie had barely hidden themselves away when they heard the turbolift chime and the doors slide open. The Rodian was once again speaking.

“I know I made a deal with you,” Nix replied, his voice sounding aggravated. “And I’m not one to break a deal without good reason. But you’re not acting professional. There’s a long proud history of able pirates behind you, and you’re acting like some normal street thug!”

The Rodian’s words were quicker now, and he was sounding aggravated as well.

“Well, we can deal with that as soon as we get the kids. The docking port’s this way. They can’t have gotten far, and they’d stay away from this area; it’s too close to the turbolift, and they’d know we were using it.”

Jun and Marie held their breath as they heard the pirates walk toward to the docking port. When were the Jedi going to do something? But before either lost their common sense and whispered the question aloud, there was a shout, and the sound of a blaster firing.

Kizael's ears rose curiously as the two pirates approached around the pool. One was a Rodian, sounding very annoyed about some sort of deal made with the other, possibly a Twi'lek judging by his accented Basic. Neither of them projected the aura that he'd detected earlier from the bridge. So if neither of these two were the leader of the crew, talk of a deal suggested dissension in the ranks.

He tensed, pushing his back flat against the wall as they drew close to the hallway. The Jedi sent a gentle nudge through the Force, focusing both pirate's attention on the path toward the maintenance bay, so they would not think to look both ways when entering the hallway.

The first to come around into view was the Rodian, followed half a pace by the Twi'lek. In a singular motion, Kizael wrapped his big furred hand tightly around the Twi'lek's mouth, yanking him backwards off balance while relieving him of his blaster rifle with the other hand.

Tell Cho leaped across the hall, planting a foot in the crook of the Rodian's knee, taking him down to the Gossam's level so he could wrap one arm around in a reverse neck hold and pin his weapon arm down with the other.

The attack was executed flawlessly, just as he was doubtless trained to grapple larger opponents. But the technical move didn't account for the Rodian's reaction speed. A blaster bolt rang out, echoing down the narrow hallway. Tell grabbed the pirate by the wrist, smashing his hand against the wall and jarring the weapon loose with one hit.

Kizael didn't exactly frown, but his countenance dimmed somewhat and he sighed quietly. "This isn't a sparring ring, Padawan." He left any further comment unspoken, hoping to let the experience speak for itself for now.

Instead of focused on the Twi'lek prisoner. "What is your name?" he asked softly, carefully loosening his grip on the pirate's mouth. As he spoke, the Trianii's prehensile tail unclipped the pirate's comlink from his belt.

"N-Nix," he stammered. Nix's eyes bulged out, looking up at Kizael, over to Tell, finally landing in surprise at his comlink held up next to him.

Kizael tossed the blaster rifle on the carpet behind him and grabbed the comlink with his now free hand. "Well, Nix," he continued at length. "We're going to start by talking about what you had planned for this ship and its passengers. Then you are going to tell us how many more of you there are, who they are, and where they are. Understood?"

Nix entertained thoughts of escape for a fleeting second, but finally just nodded.

Tell nodded at the elder Jedi’s remonstrance, though he was annoyed by it. How could he have controlled the other’s reaction time? But it was past, and he would attempt to never allow such a chance again. The Rodian had been struggling a bit in the hold, but soon stopped, realising that the Gossam, though small, held enough strength to keep the larger being from moving.

“There are eight of us,” Nix said anxiously. “Merik’s the mastermind of all this. He’s angry with the King and Queen for some reason, and decided he would get the ship, and ransom off the passengers. Merik’s on the bridge with Nakriib and Sskagen. They were guards with him and he convinced them to join in with us. He,” here he gestured with a slight motion of his head to the Rodian, “is Zeedor. Me and him were supposed to check for stragglers. Everyone else is in the holotheatre; the Queen and her handmaids, and a few relatives; Jarek and Dam are guarding them with a security droid. The King’s not on-board.”

While the Twi’lek was speaking, Jun and Marie had poked their heads up from their hiding place. Catching their eyes, Tell shook his head, and they ducked back down. Shifting himself carefully so that the Rodian still could not find a way out of his hold, the Gossam swiftly struck him in the back of his head and knocked him out.

The comlink chirped in Kizael's hand. "Nix? Nix respond."

The big Trianii loosened his grip around the Twi'lek's neck, shifting his hand to the pirate's shoulder should he try anything foolish.

"Is that Merik?" the Jedi asked. Nix nodded, looking hesitantly at the comlink as Kizael held it up before him. "Tell him you've found the children and you're on the way down to the holotheater."

As he handed the comlink to the pirate, he added, "You will not try to betray us, or say or do anything suspicious." Each word of the calm statement was reinforced by subtle strands of the Force.

"Nix!" the comlink barked.

Nix nodded again, and thumbed on the device. "Yeah, boss."

"Did you find the damn kids?"

"Yeah. They were trying to find the escape pods like you thought. We're bringing them down now."

"Good. Hurry it up. We're on a timetable."

Kizael took the comlink back, turning it off with the motion. "When you walked off the turbolift, you and Zeedor were talking about a 'deal'. Is this Merik not getting the employer of the year award?"

“Heh,” Nix laughed shortly. “He’s been pissing us off since he hired us. I’m the middle-man, you see. I used to be a pirate, but didn’t like risking my life all the time for what was usually a tiny share. And it didn’t sit well with me having to kill people to steal their money. So I went straight, but kept some connections with some old friends of mine. I ran a little cantina on Denon which was popular with the Guards, and Merik found out about my past.

“Still have to find out how he did that,” he murmured before continuing with a small wince; Kizael had squeezed his shoulder in warning. “He comes in, telling me that he’ll turn me in if I don’t cooperate. So I agree. He tells me that he needs some blasters to back him and his buddies up with stealing the ship and ransoming the prisoners. I find Zeedor, Jarek, and Dam and bring myself on board. Merik tells me he won’t need the ship after the ransom’s taken, so we can have it and do what we want with it. But we can all tell there’s something going on. Zeedor’s the best shot to come out of Rodia for almost twenty years, and he and I are supposed to catch a couple of kids instead of helping take the bridge? Merik hasn’t been telling us even poodoo about what’s happening since we’ve taken the ship. All the hostages are tied up, so why have two blasters and a droid watching over ‘em? Doesn’t make sense.”

Nix seemed like he was going to continue, but stopped for a moment and shook his head.

“That’s all I know, Jedi,” he said. The word Jedi was used a bit hesitantly, as if he didn’t know what else to call the Trianii. It was definitely not an epithet, though. “And every single word’s the truth, I swear it.”

While Nix was talking, Tell had been busy himself. He picked up the Rodian’s dropped blaster and slid it into his belt, noting that it could be useful for later. Conveniently, the Rodian had also been carrying binders, likely to restrain the children when he and Nix had caught them. Using one pair on the Rodian, he turned and faced Kizael and the Twi’lek.

“It sounded like Merik was on the move,” he offered when the Twi’lek had finished speaking. “He seemed especially hurried and breathless when he was speaking about a timetable. We should not stay here for too long.”

Kizael nodded. "Agreed," he said while fastening the restraints on Nix.

He pulled the pirate forward by his bound arms toward the first door he saw a few paces down the hall. The door slid open with a tap of the access tab, revealing a small supply closet inside with bedsheets and towels lining the shelves. Kizael pushed Nix inside far less cordially than he'd been treated during the interrogation, turning to usher Zeedor in right after. As an afterthought, he smashed a wall mounted intercom panel with his elbow.

As the door closed on the prisoners, he turned to face Tell. "So we have an erratic pirate who appears to have a hidden agenda that he won't even tell his own crew. If he press ganged any others into this job, that can work to our advantage."

The Jedi mulled those last words over as he walked back to the courtyard. "These do not strike me as the methods of a career criminal. Or at least not a very good one. We can't rule out the possibility that he's running on emotion alone, and got in over his head."

Kizael looked down at the children. "You came up to this deck by another route. Will that way lead to the holotheater as well?"

Vikter stepped off the maintenance stairs that lead up to the bridge deck. He intently scanned the spacious reception hall as he walked. Despite getting control of all the problems that plagued the operation so far, he couldn't shake the odd sense that the ship still wasn't secure. Fifteen years experience as a dock marshal on Denon was telling him something was seriously wrong.

He'd been rewarded for that fifteen years of loyal service with a termination notice delivered by a sith-spawned courier droid, along with a letter informing him that he'd lost his pension. What the letter failed to mention was how all that money that used to support his family was going to fund a senate bribe for transport rights to some new mining colony.

Nothing was going to stand between him and the justice he deserved.

Merik tapped a keypad and opened a pair of double doors set into a curved wall. Instantly a security droid bearing the insignia of the royal guard swiveled toward him with twin carbines poised where it once held stun blasters. HT-75B stopped abruptly, eyes dilating, then just as quickly lowered his weapons and returned to a ready stance.

Merik passed with a casual inspection of the restraining bolt, which was loaded with override code that Jarek had sliced. His scowl softened a notch. At least someone on his crew could be trusted.

Twenty six pairs of eyes turned to him in unison. Whispers darted through the gathering of techs, cooks, servants, guests, and the queen's handmaidens on the floor in the center of the room, then silenced suddenly at the command of a middle-aged dark haired human standing against the far wall.

A smile crept across Vikter's features at the glare from the Queen of Denon. She was seated on the floor, restrained in front of the platform that housed the many holoprojectors of the room's ridiculously expensive entertainment system.

The disgruntled guard turned hijacker idly wondered if that idiot Nix seriously thought he was going to get to keep the ship after this job was done. The amount that he could fetch for selling off the interior alone on Nar Shadda was worth more than that cowardly Twi'lek's whole family.

"Don't worry your Highness," he said with a renewed sneer formed around the words. "Your brats are on the way here, safe and sound."

Merik nodded to the man in the back of the room, on the other side of the semicircular rows of chairs arranged around the platform. "Dam, this is everybody else?" he asked. The other man nodded.

The pirate turned to the other member of his crew, a noticeably younger blonde human. "Nakriib's just about got the hyperdrive unlocked. Ten minutes tops. Go run a quick sniff of the security net again."

The slicer looked at him quizzically. "Just do it," Vikter interjected with only a little more annoyance than he intended. He knew the kid was in way over head his, but he needed his skills. "We've got time to kill, and we don't want to take any chances."

At that, Jerek nodded and headed back to a computer terminal in the control booth of the theater.

The two children looked at each other for a moment, communicating with each other through nearly invisible gestures and small facial expressions.

“Yeah,” Jun said after a brief moment. “It also bypasses the security net, but just barely. You have to be quiet if someone’s working at it. It was made for guards to move between decks quickly without having to use the main turbolift in case of an emergency.”

Jun made a face while he said that, no doubt reflecting on the fact that the guards had been the ones to create the emergency. He turned and gestured for the two Jedi to follow him, assuming that the large one’s question meant that they wanted to head to the holotheatre.

Marie remained quiet throughout the exchange, and followed Jun, speeding up to walk alongside him.

“The guard lift’s this way,” Jun said, glancing back at the Jedi while he led them out of the recreational area and into the maze of hallways and corridors just beyond it.

Tell remained behind with Kizael for a moment.

“It does not make sense for any part of the ship to bypass the security net,” he murmured. “Unless it was done after the ship was made. Perhaps this has been in planning for some time.”

The gate to the turbolift opened as the Jedi approached. It was an open platform in a wide lift tube, designed to be big enough for maintenance droids or freight to be moved. It was ideal for security to utilize given its position with doors in front to the passenger cabins or in the rear to engineering and storage. But the durasteel frame would also make a lot of noise.

Kizael held a hand out to Tell to stay behind and stepped onto the platform. He studied the control panel for a moment, popped open a metal plate and hit an override switch to lock down the lift. Pausing a second to raise a cautious gaze upwards, he stepped back out into the hallway.

"Children, you've done an excellent job," he said softly. "Now I need you to go hide in one of those passenger rooms there. Lock the door and don't come out except for one of us." He gestured to himself and the Padawan. "Not even for your mother unless Tell or I are with her, do you understand?" They nodded excitedly. He raised a finger in a gesture of silence just before they started to run off.

Both Jedi entered the turbolift with a wave from the big Trianii. He put a hand on Tell's shoulder and pointed up the lift tube directing his eyes toward the door to the upper deck of the ship. He then held up a hand, palm open in a sign of 'wait'.

After just a second's pause, the felinoid leaped up, bounding off the side of the tube with one leg to come to a precarious landing an instant later, hanging in front of the door 10 meters overhead. He moved with deceptive quickness grace for his solid 170 kilo frame, padding off the wall and catching the ledge in silence.

Kizael closed his eyes and tilted his head, his ears pivoting toward the door as he reached out to the Force. He took a measured breath. Once more. Satisfied that no one was on the other side of the door, he hit the manual latch with his prehensile tail and rolled out of the tube.

Tell remained silent, listening intently for anything while Kizael rolled onto the level above them. He backed into the turbolift and looked up, waiting for Kizael’s signal.

It came after three seconds. The felinoid gestured through the open doors, and just as quickly the hand disappeared. The Gossam closed his eyes and let himself fall into the currents of the Force. It flowed through him, removing his weaknesses and magnifying his strengths. With two deep breaths, he opened his eyes once more, and crouched.

He leapt. While in the air, he curled himself into a ball, and once in position, uncurled himself as quickly as if he were a spring. He landed in the doorway of the turbolift in a handstand, and with a silent exhalation, shifted to his feet, careful to do so slowly to keep as quiet as was possible.

Kizael was standing watch over the corridors that branched from the turbolift entrance.

He closed his eyes and felt the Force once more. Silence reigned in this part of the ship, but he could sense a large group of people ahead some distance.

“I sense a large group further ahead,” he reported quietly. “Given what we know, I would assume that to be the holotheatre where the captives are held.”

The Jedi Knight stopped in the hallway, crouching on his haunches a meter from the reception area. He closed his eyes, extending his senses through the Force.

"There's a man over there," he said, gesturing to the left of the door. "Separated from the rest. He seems to be working on something, very focused on something other than the hostages. He's nervous, though, and accutely aware of the blaster sitting within reach on the table in front of him."

Kizael's eyes shifted around behind his closed lids. He frowned. "That one's yours. The other two are mixed in among the hostages, but they won't be hard to spot once inside. Don't forget the droid. It's somewhere."

He held a hand to the side to hold back Tell, pointing up to the red blinking light on a ceiling mounted holocam with his other hand.

"If we use a Force technique to run across without being seen, we still lose valuable seconds at the door. It's locked, and destroying the panel would just as likely keep it locked as open it. It would take time to open by any method."

He studied the room ahead for a few more seconds in silence. At length he unclipped the lightsabre hilt from his belt.

"The direct approach it is, then. I take the right edge of the doors, you take the left, together we push them clear of the frame. The royal family can send the bill to whoever programmed our astromech."

The felinoid's ears rose and his eyes narrowed on the door. "On three. Save your energy for the threats inside. One," he whispered, turning the long hilt to a ready position. "Two. Three."

Both Jedi bounded across the open reception hall toward the double doors of the holotheater. Kizael's silver lightsabre ignited in mid-stride, slicing into the door in a vertical line as straight as a surgeon's laser. The instant Tell's blue lightsabre on loan from Drallig melted clean through the left door's edge, both Jedi raised their hands in unison, channeling will through the Force to push the heavy doors inward.

Suddenly blaster fire from two carbine rifles scorched the air, punching holes through the flying doors. Kizael instinctively shifted to a Soresu stance, deflecting the searing red bolts. The blaster fire subsided as the momentum of the doors slammed into a startled HT-75, knocking it off its feet.

Screaming erupted in the theater as the Jedi felt all attention focus on them.

"That one's yours. The other two are mixed in among the hostages, but they won't be hard to spot once inside. Don't forget the droid. It's somewhere."

The Gossam nodded in understanding and acceptance of his elder’s orders. His eyes followed Kizael’s, trained on a particular spot as if he could see right through the wall.

When the silver blade of the Knight erupted forth, Tell pressed the activation switch on his, from which blazed a blade of blue. He went low while the Kizael went high; when the blade went up to the edge of his reach, he pushed it the final few inches with the Force, and pulled it out the same way.

He raised his hand, mirroring Kizael’s own action, and dug within himself, pushing out with his feelings. The door ripped from the molten metal around the frame, and he was rolling inside, blocking the shots of the carbines that were headed his way and were not deflected by the door. Thankfully, the droid was knocked off its feet by the flying door, and Cho focussed completely on the man to the left, who was aiming the blaster he held, training it on the Jedi faster than Tell had expected. But not fast enough. Before the man could squeeze off a shot, Cho’s Force push slammed him against the wall, dazing him.

With narrowed eyes, the reptilian leapt, twirling in the air like a dervish, before coming down in front of the man, who could only watch as the lightsabre swept up and sliced the blaster in half, barely missing his fingers.
Shock by the heat and swift end of his weapon coupled with being dazed by his impact on the wall, Tell’s subsequent suggestion was more than able to have an effect.

“Sleep,” he murmured, and waved his hand. He turned away, focussing on the scene in the middle of the room, while the man’s eyes dropped and he went unconscious.

Kizael gritted his teeth as he quickly scanned the room. Failing to consider the position of the security droid cost them precious seconds, as punctuated by the blaster shot that rang out from the control booth. By the time the droid had been knocked down, two of the pirates were already coming to their senses, the shock and awe of the entrance worn off.

The Jedi Knight reached out with his free hand, calling on the Force to yank the older human's weapon from his hand. The blaster jerked free, but instead of pulling it to his own hand, Kizael sent it flying into the other human's face, knocking him off balance and following through with the telekinetic swing to disarm him as well.

Just as quickly, he waved his clawed hand back toward the first pirate, sending that one smashing back against the wall with an angry thump. His danger sense screamed at him, pulling his lightsabre instinctively into a parry as the HT-75 recovered one of its lost carbine rifles and instantly squeezed off a bolt.

A second shot deflected in a flash of silver right back into the droid's chassis at close range. As it reeled back, Kizael scanned quickly over it's frame allowing the Force to guide his focus on what he was looking for. Instantly he spun his lightsabre in a precise arc, drawing a wild flash of sparks from its flank.

HT-75B stood upright and turned, then just as abruptly stopped and looked down at it's undamaged frame. The older human stumbling to his feet hesitated, seeing the misshapen slag that was the droid's restraining bolt bounce to the floor in front of him.

Kizael pulled Dam's legs out from under him with another telekinetic yank, slamming the back of his head against the wall before he fell in a heap. Across the theater, Vikter recovered his weapon and frantically grabbed the Queen in a choke hold. Kizael spun towards the pirate, his arm extended straight and his lightsaber leveled straight toward the pirate leader like an extension of his arm.

The Jedi just stood there for a heartbeat, letting the reality of the situation sink in. His arm unwavering, his breathing steady, showing no signs of fatigue in sharp contrast to the panicked and labored breathing of the leader of the hijacker crew. The fur on the back of his neck bristled, but his eyes never lost a hint of calm focus.

Merik started to blurt out something in defiance, but the big Trianii cut him off in a startlingly even and direct tone.

"Don't."

Vikter held Queen Nahila in a vice grip, blaster pressed against her head. His mind raced in circles around the severely limited options he had left.

It can't end like this. He should have called the job off a the first warning sign. Something was telling him not to go through with this, but he didn't listen.

Over by the far wall of the theater, the security droid was putting Dam in restraints. Jerek was knocked out cold. The little alien Jedi had moved closer to the door, blocking his only escape route, as if he had a chance of reaching it anyway.

In that moment, he no longer had thoughts of survival or revenge. All that was left was regret for the family he had failed. How was he supposed to take care of his wife and newborn son now?

"I'm sorry, Chase," Vikter whispered as he closed his eyes. He pulled the trigger.

Or at least he thought he had. Vikter opened his eyes in confusion and anger. He could feel his hands, but he couldn't move his fingers. Fracking Jedi sorcery!

"Drop the weapon and let her go," he heard the big alien say. As if to rub in the futility of it all, he turned off his lightsaber. There was no compulsion behind the words. He wasn't trying one of those mind tricks. It was just a simple instruction to a helpless, broken old man.

Vikter loosened his grip, almost surprised that he could move again. Instantly his blaster flew from his hand and the HT-75 threw him in a hammerlock hold against the wall.

He moved quickly in front of the door, despite the fact it would have been nearly impossible for the man to run. The Gossam could feel a sudden rise of sadness and despair from the man; this made the padawan curious, as he had been expecting rage, anger, or frustration.

It was moot anyway, as the security droid manhandled the erstwhile pirate up against the wall. The Queen nearly collapsed from relief and fear. Tell, no longer afraid of the man escaping or trying to do harm, deactivated his lightsabre and clipped to his belt as he moved to help the woman. Her maids and relatives crowded around the woman, all worried for her.

“No,” the Queen gasped. “No. Where are the children? Are they safe? And Lam? We haven’t heard from them, so we were hoping they were all right.”

One of the maids gasped. “Prince Jun! And Princess Marie!”

Tell nodded, absorbing the fact that the boy and girl they had saved were royalty. “They were of great help to us. However, the only ones we saw were the children. They may be able to say whether your man has survived.”

The Queen sighed in relief, and looked past Tell to Kizael.

“Where are they? Where are my children?”

Tell sent a wave of comfort and soothing emotions to the woman, saying, “In due time, your majesty, we will collect your children. However the bridge is still under control of the pirates, and we do not know where they are taking the ship. They are safe, for the moment. We are not.”

The Queen nodded, though a bit reluctantly. Tell was glad he didn’t have to use a mind trick on her to settle her down. He stood, and turned back to Kizael, casting a significant look at the man they had captured who was still conscious.

Kizael grabbed the middle-aged, dark-haired human by the back of his shirt with one hand. "Wake up," he prompted, backing the words with strands of the Force.

Dam shook his head in a groggy gesture. Suddenly his eyes popped open as he realized he was in restraints. He scowled at the felinoid holding him up.

The Jedi smirked. He tilted his head toward the security droid. "Take those two to join their friends. We used a supply closet on the deck below as a makeshift brig for their Twi'lek and Rodian partners."

Kizael turned to the Queen with a nod of deference. "My apologies for the keypad on that room downstairs. And, uhm, for the door," he added with a gesture toward the bent and blaster-shredded durastine doors leaning at haphazard angles over a crushed viewing chair and the far wall. "The Temple will compensate you for any damages."

He turned his attention fully on his prisoner now, pulling his head back so he could make eye contact. "And you," he added softly, "will help us get onto the bridge."

Dam narrowed his eyes angrily as another bead of sweat started rolling along his temple. "No I'm not," he growled.

Kizael raised an eyebrow. He turned his head dramatically to exchange looks with Tell, genuinely impressed. Influencing the mind of someone already so hostile wasn't as easy as with someone unaware that they were being manipulated, but given that the adrenaline of combat was fading and he was clearly defeated, it should have still been well within the Jedi's power. This one was strong.

The big Trianii leaned down, subtly tightening his grip on Dam's shirt, and hence tightening the shirt's grip around his neck. He whispered in the human's ear, lower than the former hostages in the spacious theater could hear.

Dam turned pale. He nodded quickly as Kizael loosened his grip and gently nudged him toward the door.

"Let's go," Kizael said as they started across the room.

When they were at the opening that was the theater doorway, Tell began to ask, "What did you--?" but the Jedi Knight politely cut him off.

"Another time, Padawan," was all he said when they rounded the corner with their prisoner begrudgingly walking on his own power ahead of them.

The appearance of a burly Trandoshen in the maintenance stairwell across the reception hall barely gave the Jedi enough time to ignite their lightsabres. Sskagen's repeating blaster rifle erupted with a shriek that echoed through the whole deck, slicing through Dam in a hail of red daggers like a target practice doll.

It seemed Kizael had been caught just as flat-footed as he had, the Padawan noted, blocking a few shots and rolling out of the way. The human’s death was jarring to his senses, but he quickly centred himself and dashed along to the left of the huge horned sentient. The blaster rifle began spitting out another volley of energy bolts, their impacts scoring into the surfaces of the ship.

The blaster silenced once more, and the Gossam crouched, deactivating his lightsabre as he did so. Then, with just as much calm aplomb, he took the blaster from his belt and took aim, shooting a few times to get the feel of the weapon.

None of his shots hit the former guard, but they did force him back into the stairwell to find cover.

“Ki-zael!” he called, still aiming. He didn’t want to lose focus now, when a split second’s worth of inattentiveness would cost him his life. He wanted to tell the elder Jedi to hurry to the bridge, but the Trandoshan could probably hear them and react to that faster than either Jedi wanted. He would have to see where Kizael was, and then make up a plan, if the Trianii hadn’t one already.

Tell's lateral movement drew away the hail of blaster fire, allowing Drin a half second to do more than simply react. His first instinct was to charge the Trandoshen while he had the opening, but no sooner had his muscles tensed to move that direction, his senses screamed at him to turn around.

He took a long stride backward, pivoting at the doorway to the theater and pushing Queen Nahila with one arm back behind the threshold as gently as he could manage with his momentum.

Kizael bit back the urge to admonish the woman for not heeding Tell's warning. She was clearly not used to taking orders and was undoubtedly worried about her children. Instead he took a second to make sure she was unharmed.

A second blaster joined the first in the foyer, and then both subsided.

“Ki-zael!”

The Jedi allowed himself a sigh of relief at hearing Tell's voice. With that, he politely nudged the Queen further back into the theater to give him more room. She obliged, though with a hint of offense in her features. "Another step back please, Your Highness," he added with a disarmingly soft smile. She complied and he nodded. "Thank you."

The big Trianii became a blur. He pivoted on one foot through the open double doorway, whipping himself and his lightsaber around the wall in a single fluid motion. The silver blade flew out of his hand in an unerringly straight upward line into the stairwell.

The sound of the blade extinguishing echoed down the stairs, followed up a loud, clumsy series of thumps as Sskagen fell to the floor.

Tell stood, pushing the blaster pistol back into his belt. He glanced at Dam’s dead body before shaking his head slightly and breathing deeply, calming himself from the nearly mindless violence that had just happened.

He swiftly made his way to the stairwell and looked up, confirming that the guard with the heavy blaster was indeed dead. He also saw Kizael’s lightsabre; a small touch of the Force had the weapon zooming into his hand with unerring accuracy. He turned back from the stairwell to see the Trianii making his own way to the stairwell.

“I believe, if we follow those stairs, we will find the bridge soon enough,” the Gossam padawan noted, handing the Knight his lightsabre back. “Or we could alternatively ask for directions from the Queen or her companions.”

Kizael took the lightsabre and clipped the hilt to his belt.

"No, the bridge is most definitely that way. And Her Highness is going to stay seated in the theater this time. We can find it on our own."

He paused at the stairs, reaching out with his senses. Satisfied, he nodded to Cho and proceeded up the stairwell.

"Not that it didn't come in handy for laying down cover fire, Padawn," The Jedi Knight began softly. "But a blaster? Really? Not very civilized, especially for a Counselor."

"I find nothing civilized in violence," the saurian said matter-of-factly. "Whatever tools are at hand I shall use, except if the cost would be too high."

He followed the Trianii up the stairwell quietly, wondering where exactly this adventure would take them next; the thought reminded him of his original mission for crystals, and he felt a stab of remorse for his lost, unfinished lightsabre. It was by now inundated with radiation from the wound Kizael had inflicted on the engine, and even if he managed to retrieve it, cleansing it would take a matter of time that he was not sure of – he’d have to read up on such things when he next got the chance.

They reached at length the floor of the bridge, and Tell stepped forward, listening and sensing in the Force. With a slight touch of the mystical power, the door slid open. It opened into a hallway, where the door was situated in what seemed the halfway point between a small foyer in the back, and a door which, while closed, was most certainly the bridge.

Tell absently noted that Kizael was now letting him take the lead, which he found curious, but he dismissed any idle thoughts on the matter, considering that they might have to continue fighting and distractions usually meant death.

The walk to the bridge was silent, save for the slight tapping of his feet and the heavier padding of Kizael’s. However, when he attempted to open the door via the control panel on the side, he got in return a harsh tone and a still unopened door.

"Perhaps…" Kizael murmured, waving his hand (Tell squashed any idle conjecturing on the subject of "hands" versus "paws"); but he got the same result, without the harsh mechanical tone.

«I know you Jedi are out there!» a voice called from behind the locked door. Tell could roughly understand the Sullustan within, and whispered what he could understand to Kizael. «I surrender! Don’t kill me, and I promise I won’t put up a fight!»

"We won’t kill you," Kizael said.

There was a moment of silence, and there was a clicking sound, followed by the hiss of the door opening. Standing there was the Sullustan, who put up his hands, and backed away quickly. Tell made for the Sullustan and began speaking quietly with him, while Kizael found the navigation panel and decoded where they were heading.

Tell softly made his way next to the Trianii and sighed. "As far as I can tell, the Twi’lek was not lying about what happened mostly. Apparently there was much he did not know as well. Some Guards lost their jobs with these royals, and did not receive severance packages that they had been promised. The leader, whom we have captured in the theatre, organized this as retribution."

He shook his head, turning to look at the Sullustan, who had followed the padawan’s orders and was standing quietly behind them.

Kizael nodded at the navicomp screen. "It appears the royal family was returning home to Denon, but the hijackers had different plans. They were recalculating for Hutt space when we arrived."

He turned to Cho. "You and the security droid secure the prisoners and let the passengers know we are safe. We'll have to see what we can do about our gear and R2 unit aboard our ship, too. They should have a cargo hold they can seal off till we can clean them properly."

The Padawan tilted his head curiously. "A cargo hold? I'm sure they have facilities on Rendili." His anxiousness to return to their original mission went unspoken, but underscored his tone.

Kizael shook his head. "I am sure they'll want to try the hijackers on Denon. Rendili authorities won't want anything to do with this. I've a feeling we'll be enjoying her highness' hospitality for a little while longer."

He stepped over to the comlink array and added. "I'm calling Coruscant now. The Temple might like to know we're alive."

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Drin Kizael

"I'm calling Coruscant now. The Temple might like to know we're alive."

---

Padawan Cho smiled slightly, and nodded. He turned to the Sullustan.

"Stay here with Knight Kizael," he commanded. "He may need your help."

The Sullustan nodded quickly, and Cho left the bridge for the turbo-lift down to the holo-theatre. The ship, now that all the excitement was over, was almost eerily quiet, and he took the time to calm himself and remove any distractions from his mind. The sight of Dam's dead body in the empty passage kept him from reaching his preferred state, however.

"Is everything all right? Why are you the only one returning?" one the maids asked quickly as he entered the holotheatre. She looked protective and wary, her eyes going from him to the door he had walked through, as if attackers would spill through at any moment. Cho gave her a measured look and nodded in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Everything is fine. Please. I will explain it all as I speak with the Queen."

She nodded hesitantly and stepped back. He walked over to the Queen and bowed.

"We have secured the ship, your highness," he began. "Your kidnappers were attempting to jump to Hutt space, but we have stopped them. I must take these criminals and secure them. I require a guide to the brig, if you have one. If not, I can find another serviceable room."

"We don't have a brig," one of the handmaidens said, looking a bit patronizingly on the Gossam. "This is a pleasure yacht, not a battleship."

"With recent events," the padawan replied evenly, "I am sure that there will be one included hereafter, yes?"

"There will be," the Queen finally replied, having gained her composure. "What about the children?"

Tell nodded. "Allow me to secure these prisoners, and I will retrieve your children."

For a moment, the Queen had an odd look on her face, but it passed quickly, and she waved her hand, looking down into her lap once more.

The padawan bowed and turned, gesturing to the security droid.

"Help me secure the prisoners," he requested, and both bent to work putting binders on the two surviving guards. The leader, identified as Merik, remained silent as the binders tightened and immobilized his arms; he still had an almost choking sense of despair about him to the Force-sensitive Gossam.

Soon a single handmaiden was leading them down to the passenger cabins, where Tell opened a cabin and settled the two hijackers inside, where they were soon joined by Zeedor and Nix, gotten from the supply closet.

"Guard this door," he commanded the droid. "Do not allow anyone in or out without either my or Knight Kizael's express approval." The droid did not answer, but stepped to the side of the door and stood at attention.

A few moments later, the door to the children's room opened. Jun saw Tell standing there with the handmaiden and grinned. "Wizard!"

Marie rolled her eyes. "Wizard? That's just dumb."

"I think it'll catch on," he protested as he stood and stretched. "It'll be a galaxy-wide phenomenon! People will always wonder who was the first to say 'Wizard!'"

The banter continued until they had reached the holotheatre and it was cut short due to the inability of both children to speak while their faces were pressed against their mother's shoulders.

An hour later, Kizael and Tell watched from the observation deck as a Republic salvage vessel separated from the cruiser. After completing the transfer of the radioactive R2 unit and gear to a sealed off cargo hold, they locked tractor beams on the Jedi ship for the slow journey back to Rendili.

"Master Yoda said he'll arrange for a ship to be ready for us on Denon," Kizael said. "I don't predict any problems with that after rescuing the Queen from a hostage crisis. It's no surprise that they requested we escort them home with the prisoners on board. They have facilities that will have little problem decontaminating everything quickly, too, so it will be worth it."

He grimaced and added. "An engine leak was the only thing I could think of to cloak their scanners and maintain our element of surprise."

The big trianii looked down to regard his fellow Jedi. He thought back to how he felt when he completed the lightsabre hanging at his belt. "The techs said they retrieved everything fine. Sorry about your lightsabre. It's all there, but I can't promise what shape it will be in after it's cleaned."

Tell remained stoic as he watched the vessel move off to Rendili, but shook his head.

"A Jedi does not dwell on what one cannot change," he said, reminding himself of the dangers inherent in not being mindful of the present. He turned to Kizael and nodded with finality, signalling to both himself and his compatriot that the time for such matters was past. "You did what had to be done. Another lightsabre can be made if this cannot be salvaged, but another royal family is much more difficult to create. It is past."

He let the feelings of loss go into the Force, only to be assailed by the curiosity concerning the expression the Queen had held when he spoke of her children back in the holotheatre. He indulged the idle curiosity for a moment, before letting that too go into the Force.

Both Jedi turned in time to see one of the Handmaidens move from the gaggle surrounding the Queen in their direction. She was holding the two children close as they wept into her dress, mindless of the doubtlessly expensive fabric.

"The Queen would like to thank you for accompanying us to Denon," she said, bowing. "We'll be entering hyperspace soon to return."

The two Jedi bowed in return. Noticing the Jedis' gazes on the crying children and the wet-eyed Queen, the Handmaiden wiped her own eyes.

"We've found Lam's body on the engineering deck. The prince and the princess especially enjoyed his company. Arrangements will be made to have his family come to Denon as guests for the funeral."

"His family doesn't live on Denon?" Tell asked. She shook her head.

"He is Alderaani," she replied. "In fact, he joined us as part of an exchange between Denon and Alderaan to foster closer relations. He was a pilot for the Alderaani royal family as well."

The trip to Denon was uneventful, a very welcome relief from the weeks spent crawling through realspace, always keeping a nervous eye on the life support systems.

Kizael spent the bulk of the time entertaining two spectacularly curious children, neither of whom had met a felinoid before. The fascination his presence seemed to generate in children was something he had long ago learned to accept. At first he thought it surprising, given the twins' upbringing around the royal court, but he was all too often surprised by how insulated so much of the Core and Colony worlds were.

Eventually, one of the Queen's handmaidens shooed them to join their mother. Kizael took advantage of the respite to get in a relaxing, if not brief kata routine.

The first mate's voice echoed over the com systems, "We've just reverted to realspace. Preparing for final approach."

The approach was quick, with the ship reverting to realspace just outside the planet's gravity well. In a matter of minutes, the pleasure yacht had entered the ecumenopolis's atmosphere and was touching down on the palace's landing pad; the ramp lowered and the procession of people began leaving the ship.

Waiting for them on the pad was the King and a number of others. The Queen broke into a run and launched herself into her husband's arms.

"Thank goodness you're alright!" he said. The children were right behind. The two Jedi remained silent.

"Your mother has told me a lot of what happened," he said to them with a smile. "I cannot be any more proud of you than I am at this moment."

Jun and Marie smiled and embraced their father, who looked at the Jedi.

"I have also heard much about you and what you did. I am indebted to you for saving my family and those of the others onboard," he said, bowing. "Anything you ask that is in my power to give you, and it is yours."

"We need no reward," Tell spoke up, shaking his head. "A Jedi's duty is to right whatever wrongs that one can, within reason."

"Surely there must be something," the King began, but another man coughed slightly behind him and he turned. "Ah, we can speak of that later. May I introduce you to Judicial Somnou Atrapes? He is the coordinator for Denon; and was working on this when we received news of your involvement."

Somnou Atrapes was a severe looking man with thick brown hair; though he was clean-shaven and looked otherwise alert and awake, he still seemed to be used to long nights and little sleep. Dressed in the blue uniform of the Judiciary, he cut a different figure from the other royals and their servants on the platform.

"I thank you for bringing a quick end to this crisis, gentlemen," the Judicial said. "I would like to take your statements and relieve you of your prisoners."

Four red garbed Judicials stepped up behind him, all bearing holstered blasters and binders.

"We can speak on the way, if you would."

They turned to re-enter the ship, but halted as the crew processed out with Lam's covered body on a hoverstretcher. The group remained silent as they passed, and Atrapes's expression became even more severe, if that were possible.

"After you," Atrapes gestured, and the two Jedi led the way back onto the ship.

Kizael nodded to Atrapes in greeting, taking note of the subtle shift of tension in the air. His eyes shifted from the armed Judicials, to Atrapes, and back, trying to place the source of it.

He stepped back as the pilot's body was carried out, then lead the way into the ship, keeping his senses open on the men behind him.

Atrapes kept quiet throughout the walk through the ship, only asking questions and marking the answers down on a datapad. The other Judicials were completely silent.

“I can find no real abuse of powers or avoidable deaths within this other than the death of the Trandoshan,” Atrapes finished, placing the stylus into the datapad and the datapad into his pocket. “Given the circumstances, even that seems unavoidable.”

Tell remained silent, remembering that the Judicial was following his own set of standards; one in which every criminal possible was brought down alive for questioning and incarceration. He was a Judicial, and they were Jedi, and one's objectives and goals were not the other's. Still, the man's tone seemed to hide something small, which the Gossam assumed to be his opinion of them.

The security droid was standing guard, and Cho nodded. The droid stepped to the side, and Atrapes pressed the key to open the door.

The door slid open, and all the prisoners looked up; Merik still seemed to have that crushing sense of despair about him.

“Stand up, face the wall, and place your hands behind your backs,” Atrapes ordered as the Judicials entered the room. Zeedor looked as if he wanted to fight for a moment, but followed orders; Nix instantly complied while Merik slowly stood himself and faced the wall.

“How's the kids?” Nix asked conversationally while his wrists were placed in the binders.

“Take them to the cells,” Atrapes ordered, ignoring the Twi'lek. The prisoners where paraded down the halls back out the ship. Atrapes stopped and turned to face the Jedi.

“I thank you again for you assistance,” he said. “If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Kizael and Cho nodded, and watched the Judicial walk off to the palace. Outside the ship were two handmaidens waiting.

“If you would follow us to your rooms,” one said. The other nodded, and the four entered the palace themselves.

“You spoke with Judicial Atrapes?” asked one, a cheerful looking young woman with brown hair. “How was it? He doesn't talk much to anyone, so a lot of people say a lot of things about him.”

As the group made its way through the ship, the giving of a simple statement felt more like an interrogation. At one point, Kizael found it difficult to hide his reaction as he mouthed the words "Abuse of powers?" slowly to himself. It was rare to hear a Jedi's judgment being challenged so openly, much less in a tone that he couldn't help but sense as a veiled threat.

He walked away from the experience glad that he wasn't a Denon peacekeeper, if that kind of scrutiny was the norm in every criminal matter on this world.

“You spoke with Judicial Atrapes?” asked a handmaiden as they entered the palace. “How was it? He doesn't talk much to anyone, so a lot of people say a lot of things about him.”

"He's very, ah," Kizael mused. "Thorough."

“That's a nice way of putting it,” the handmaiden laughed, entering a turbolift. The wall facing out towards the city-world was made of transparisteel, making the skylined horizon as a natural mural. The handmaiden gave a familiar if still appreciative glance at the sight as she continued: “He doesn't like Jedi for some reason; when we heard that you had become involved, he immediately left the throne room with a strange look.”

“Oh?” Tell asked, sharing a short look with Kizael.

The handmaiden grinned and shook her head in a mutedly incredulous manner.

“Yes,” she said. “It's not common knowledge that he doesn't like Jedi, but it's not uncommon either. There's lots of rumours about why. Some are just far too crazy to believe. One story has it that he is planning something against the Jedi, and that he's teaching his children magic that would kill them!”

The Jedi shared another look. This time it was Kizael who asked the question.

“He has children?”

The handmaiden laughed again; even the other quiet handmaiden who accompanied her giggled behind her hand.

“Yes, two of them. There's a sizeable bet as to who can find out who their mother is.”

Kizael nodded to the handmaidens after taking a brief scan of the room. "Thank you, that will be all." He walked toward the window, facing the view outside in quiet contemplation.

The Jedi bit out a sigh as the door closed. "Magic," he said at length. "I'm not sure what to make of the fact that these people consider it to be a laughing matter, either; teaching children to kill Jedi. Hard to say which is more troubling, having a 'magic' practitioner in charge of palace security, suspecting him of brainwashing children, or that such an accusation would be reduced to idle gossip."

He didn't want to say the word out loud, but he knew that both of them were thinking it. There was only one likely source of "magic" that common sentients did not associate with the Jedi.

Sith sorcery.

The big Trianii took a moment to run through what he'd heard since landing on Denon, absorbing the gravity of what he'd heard. He glanced at a chronometer, then regarded Tell with a furrowed brow. "Let's explore the grounds a little before dinner, shall we?"

Tell followed Kizael out into the hallway outside their door. In the distance, activity could be heard, voices and laughter; no activity was close to them however. The Gossam sped up his stride to walk alongside the Trianii.

“They could be just merely stories,” the Gossam offered quietly. “I didn't sense anything out of place with the Judicial, except what I now know to be dislike.”

The hallway was leading them in a large semi-circle, and to the side was an open doorway leading out into what seemed to be a large garden. The two Jedi quieted as a small group of people passed them going in the opposite direction. The padawan gestured with a nod to the garden.

“If he deals with everyone as he dealt with us, dislike or not, I find it no surprise that he is subject to rumours,” he said as they entered the garden and passed out of earshot of those in the hallway. “Though talk of magic is odd. Do you think he could hide such abilities?”

"I suppose he could be the subject of excessive rumor mongering gone awry, in which case I pity him. But we cannot overlook even idle claims this potentially dangerous."

Kizael focused his attention outside the garden, through a window on the opposite wall of the palace halls to the grounds beyond. He began walking that direction as he continued. "Sith practitioners do not wear glowing red signs screaming 'I'm evil' to the world. Contrary to popular myth, their auras do not ooze dark side, at least not while they are not actively channeling."

The trianii sniffed the air as the two Jedi stepped outside the palace. He turned, following the scent to indicate Judicial Atrapes walking across the courtyard into the city, a short distance away. "We should see where he's off to in such a hurry."

Tell Cho was surprised, to say the least, about the fact that it was impossible to really sense the dark inside a person unless they were actively channelling. He had always been among the more gifted students in passive use of the Force; something which had given him a sense of accomplishment and what he was considering now to be pride, something which he had always tried to avoid. The thought that he was not as good as he thought was now pushing its consideration on the past few days, beginning with his conduct on the yacht.

“Yes,” he responded, eager to get his mind off the subject of his overestimation of himself.

Atrapes was alone, and though Kizael and Cho were not quite suited for following the man covertly on this planet (which was populated mainly by Humans and some other races and species), they were not discovered. His route was a direct one, through a market and to a residential area known for its panoramic views of the city, and for being a ‘guarded community’. The mansions that could be seen within the gates were large and elaborate.

Cho frowned slightly, staring at the gate with consternation.

“Oh, sir Jedi,” a young human woman exclaimed. Tell Cho turned and regarded the young handmaid from before, with a large bag of what seemed to be foodstuffs held in her arms, piled so that almost obscured her chin, with a short black haired young girl of about twelve standing beside her also holding a much smaller bag of food. She glanced quickly at the gates in the distance, and back to the Knight and Padawan. “What are you doing out here?”

“Sight-seeing,” Cho replied. “I have not been to Denon before, though I have heard of it. The descriptions and holograms do not do it justice.”

The handmaid smiled apologetically, looking from the Gossam to Kizael. “Oh, well, sorry to bother you. I hope you are enjoying it. Zoe and I were just getting some food for supper and I was curious when I saw you standing here.”