The Rebel Faction

The colonial commander turned Jensaarai apprentice studied her rival and teacher, Adrian Ravenna, across the sand covered floor of the training arena.

Their arrival on Almas only a half hour earlier had heralded a new chapter in her continued development in the force. They had not wasted a moment, however; after depositing her possessions, all contained in a single duffle, in one of the former students rooms they had proceeded directly to the lightsaber training arena. The walk had fortunately given her a chance, albeit a brief one, to get an idea of the shape and form of the academy.

She had not gleaned anything of its shape during their descent from space as she had been sequestered in the ships hold with Ravenna in deep meditation for the duration of their voyage. From the inside though she was able to get a feel for the place.

It radiated force energy.

Clearly the academy was something of a nexus of lightside power. In short Ravenna had enlightened her as to the history of the academy and the planet upon which it was situated but nothing has surprised her so much as the effect it had on her lightsaber.

From the moment she set foot in the temple it had seemed to glow a bright white in the force such that she could feel it warming her hip where it was slung. It had been given to her by Ravenna whom had informed her that he had acquired it from the academy but she had never guessed it would be so intimately tied to the place.

Gripping it now, squared off against Ravenna, she felt its warmth moving through her fingers, coursing along her palm and up her arm.

Initially she wanted nothing more then to have a few moments to herself, to explore the academy and perhaps rest for a short time but Ravenna had other plans in mind. Much as her training had progressed on Kashan it would likely be similar here though with more opportunity for self discovery.

The academy represented a chance to take her training in a new direction however the norms would still have to apply for she knew that she had a long way to go before she could hope to branch out on her own. Just as well, she knew, as she quite enjoyed the company of her instructor. All the same, after their time in the woods she was somewhat eager to rejoin society proper. That could wait, for now she would make the best of her time.

Ravenna was speaking and too late she realized she had been daydreaming. Snapping back to attention she moved just in time to catch the tail end of his commentary as his saber blade came in, slowly and predictably. His attack was intended to be a clear one such that she could counter in kind.

Slowly and with a practiced cohesion they had developed previous they moved in unison allowing the force to dictate their motions at first before moving towards more precise methods of attack and defense.

Lightsaber technique was a highly refined art and one that d’Foose aimed to refine in herself over time. With the help of the likes of Adrian Ravenna she hoped to become a strong swordswoman. He was easily her superior in this and many other regards pertaining to the force and as such she had done and would continue to do her best to absorb his lessons thoroughly. The change of environment and atmosphere caught her off guard though and she would not allow that to continue.

For the next hour they moved through a practiced routine that forced d’Foose to adapt quickly, to learn moves shown to her with considerable acuity. While they moved she repeated.

“The force cannot inherently grant me things which must be learned carefully,” she parried a low thrust rounding her own sallow blade in a disarming tactic which Ravenna countered slowly so that she might see the method behind his motions. “Lightsaber combat requires experience and practice to master.”

“I must learn what form suits me,” she continued speaking; an exercise in splitting her attention between the combat before her and abstract concepts. “I will learn by moving slowly and together with my instructor.”

And so it went until the silky fabric of her top began to stain with sweat. They had practiced the basics of lightsaber combat numerous times now yet certain ideas, certain moves continued to elude her. After a straining session Ravenna broke off and deactivated his weapon, d’Foose doing likewise.

“Good,” stated Ravenna with a nod and a bow. “For now.”

With that Ravenna dismissed her allowing her some amount of free time to spend as she wished. He did inform her however that the next days lessons would begin to incorporate hand-to-hand combat as a form of meditation alongside her continued saber training. She agreed, as though it were a matter of debate, and thanked Ravenna before heading off towards what would, for the foreseeable future, be her room.

Walking the halls, saber slung on her hip, d’Foose found herself mentally recalling the foundations of teras kasi. She was versed in the fundamentals of hand to hand combat, it had been an integral part of her training as a soldier and an officer though she had not taken to it with the same vigor as some of her peers. In truth she identified herself as more of a talker then a fighter; a diplomat.

Speaking of which, diplomatically, she had not really thanked Ravenna for his time, for the wisdom he was sharing with her and made a mental note to make that a high priority though she doubted finding an appropriate gift here, at the academy. Just the same, she would do her best.

Eventually, after a number of wrong turns and false starts, she found her room. The door was malfunctioning and she found she had to manually force it open. Supposing it was on the list to be mended by whatever maintenance crew managed the academy, she entered…

… and nearly screamed when, entering without thought, saw what she took to be the shape of a man standing in her room, looming beside her cot.

He was not human, though close. Long head tails hung down from the back of his skull, one draped over his shoulder. What really caught her attention however were the ubiquitous brown and gray robes he was draped in. An aura of ambience surrounded his figure illuminating the room and casting oddly shaped shadows.

She gasped, choking on her words she asked, “Who are you?”

The figure seemed to notice her, though she could have sworn it looked right though her. Its piercing gaze fell to her hip, to the lightsaber hanging there in clear sight and lingered there for a moment.

Then, just as quickly as the shape had appeared, however; it vanished.

Stunned d’Foose slunk on to her cot as the room sunk in to darkness. She had not activated the lights. Shaking visibly she tried to calm herself with a breathing exercise but found it to be of little help.

“Calm down,” she told herself. “You’re tired and you’ve been through a lot. It was probably nothing. You’re exhausted and you need to sleep, you’re hallucinating again.”

She pressed her eyes closed, “You’re talking to yourself.”

And then she started to laugh. She continued to laugh until tears welled up in her eyes and her lungs burned. She laughed until she fell asleep.

Slumbering soundly though she could have no idea that in the hall of the Jedi, the main chamber of the grand academy, sat a bust carved of stone… the bust of an ancient and long dead Jedi Master, a Twi’Lek whose name, barely visibly etched in to the base of the bust, read Nerra Ziveri.

Tumbling to the floor, air driven from her lungs, d’Foose exhaled heavily and fought to regain her composure. How many times had he driven her to the floor? She had lost count. Laying prone, her back against the cold stone surface, she found herself taking in the details engraved in the marble ceiling.

After a moment the serene face of her instructor slipped in to view smiling, though not smugly. She tried to match his expression but failed still trying to draw the air back in to her lungs.

Here she had long considered herself an able and competent hand-to-hand combatant. She was learning however that for everything she thought she knew he knew more and when she had expressed as much, only a round earlier, Adrian had reminded her that it was not his martial skills that enabled him to out maneuver her but rather his alliance with the force.

Furthermore she was learning and important lesson about disabling ones enemy without the need to inflict mortal or lasting injuries, how to defeat a foe without maiming him or her.

“Your attacks,” spoke Adrian kindly while offering a hand to her feet, “are too energetic. You must remember that the more force you express against your enemy the more energy, in this case kinetic force, he will have to use against you.”

She simply nodded while simultaneously fanning the sweat from her back by flapping her loose fitting top.

“You are a tactician, a starship commander. This is something you should well understand.”

“I do,” she conceded. “But it is different. This is one-on-one.”

Again he smiled that almost blank, imperceptibly hard to read smile of his. “What you must learn is that it is all the same.”

They squared off.

“It is easier,” he spoke, easily deflecting a clumsy over-hand blow. “To simply kill you enemy with something like a lightsaber, or a gunnery cannon. It is more difficult to overcome an enemy with diplomacy,” he added while catching her open wrist in his palm and twisting in such a fashion that she was forced to spin around him and over his exposed knee.

Again she hit the ground, hard.

“You call this diplomacy?” She mocked from her sprawled position.

“Compared to what you will be capable of when your training is complete? Yes, I do.”

Slowly, inexorably, d’Foose was beginning to understand. As she rose again, gathering her feet under herself, she asked, “And what form do you think that will take?”

He fixed her with a puzzled look as though contemplating her future, be it light or dark in its alignment with the force.

She smirked knowing full well that young Adrian had been struggling with aspects of her personality, trying to rationalize them with the path of goodness. This was something she had begun to tease him about though not openly.

“In terms of my lightsaber form,” she added. “I’ve been reading the material you gave me.”

Previously Adrian had supplied d’Foose with a datapad containing a collective of information regarding the traditionalized lightsaber combat forms. It was a considerable resource of information but, during her many years as a student of the art of warfare, she had developed a very rigorous and successful study method… one that medical students would have killed for.

“Ah,” he said evenly. “What do you think?”

“I quite like the way of the diplomat,” she answered.

“A wise choice, though perhaps not suited to your attributes…”

She was about to query him further when the sound of a gong reverberated throughout the academy. It was the dinner bell, more or less, and it signified not only the readiness of the evening meal but the late hour which could go almost totally unnoticed by the students deep in their studies often sequestered in the deeper reaches of the structure and away from the dwindling sunlight. She would have asked further but her hunger got the better of her.

They retired for sustenance. Afterwards d’Foose searched but was unable to find Adrian though one of the menials informed her that he had been required to make contact with command and she thought he would be better undisturbed. She understood only too well the demands placed upon the men and women who served in the galaxies various armed forces. For her own part she was coming to enjoy the solace being away from Gestalt provided her and had hardly even considered sending a missive their way but guessed that in the efforts of fairness she probably should and so adjourned to her quarters to pen a letter.

It was an hour later, as she was going over her letter to the Vice Commodore detailing her exploits with the Confederate man, that she was again visited by the ethereal figure. It was more subtle this time, however.

Bent over her datapad reviewing the content of her letter she hardly noticed the new presence in her room. It was not until the sound of rhythmic breathing pervaded her awareness that she caught on and, spinning round on her stool, saw the same alien shape sitting lotus style on the edge of her bed.

She almost screamed and it was only the sharp opening of his eyes that stopped her. Instead, quite transfixed, she stared only to be met by an equally transfixed stare from the ghost. A few long seconds passed and then, feeling bold, she asked, “Who are you?”

The alien, a twi’lek, fixed her with what she took to be a look of confusion before responding and when it did it was with a voice that sounded distant and broken, as if spoken over a great open plain amidst the interference of rolling thunder. It was like speaking to someone over a partially downed comm, only backwards and confused.

“I don’t understand,” she said with evidence of fear in her voice.

The apparition rose, slowly, and moved towards d’Foose who for her part remained frozen in place though not of want for though she tried to move, to distance herself from it, or even simply to scream, she could not. It closed with her and pressed its wraith-like hand against her forehead sending waves of heat pulsating through her body. To her senses it felt as though he was invading her being and it quickly overwhelmed her to the point of unconsciousness.

She collapsed in a heap at the edge of her cot and it was there that Adrian found her the next morning, rousing her with a look of worry on his face.