Chapter Six (Patreon)

It was at the Temple that Ali’ya first learned what year it was. 933 ARR, or After the Ruusan Reformation. Sixty-seven years before the Battle of Yavin, and forty-six before the Battle of Geonosis. Despite the grief that swelled in her constantly, Ali’ya felt some level of relief. She had time. Time to train, to learn, to grow. Time to figure out how the fuck she was supposed to stop the Sith’s Grand Plan. Time to figure out if the Republic was really worth saving, or if something better was out there.

Ali’ya was placed with the Squall Clan. Their mascot, such as it was, was an adorable rabbit-like creature from Chandrilla. Unlike the Clans with more fearsome mascots, their initiate dorms actually had a pair of the cute creatures, who were used to force-sensitive younglings and often acted as emotional support creatures.

Hence, why Ali’ya was sitting down with one of them in her lap. Mourning is hard enough without Force-induced accidents, she thought. At least here her brain chemicals were more aligned. Had she been back in her old body, she’d have experienced dissociation-induced psychosis by now.

“What happened?” the Jedi asked uselessly.

“My family was murdered,” Ali’ya replied. It was petulant, she knew, but she felt more than justified in saying so. It was what happened, after all. And for all the Jedi were about letting go (and, to a certain extent, giving up) they couldn’t and didn’t (yet) expect the same from a six-year-old.

The Jedi inhaled sharply. Ali’ya could feel his shock and confusion in the Force. Out of his depths, she thought. Called it. Oh wait, what’s this?

He hugged her. It was unexpected. She leaned into the embrace, and let herself cry. Let herself mourn. She’d never fully connected with her new family besides her great-grandmother, and now she never would. She’d never learn what other fun stories her dad could tell, or finish Togorian lessons from her great-grandma or finally find out what it was her uncle did for work, or how her mother broke a Mandalorian’s jaw through their buy’ce.

Slowly, Ali’ya healed. The mind healer helped with that, even if it wasn’t comfortable. Going into her mind with the Force and helping her unstick the flashback memories. It was surgical, intimate, and extremely strange. An altogether unsettling combination, but after a dozen sessions she was no longer having flashbacks or getting panic attacks from the sound of a loud bang or pop. The psychologist helped just as much, if not more. Not in curing anything, but in preparing her. Helping her let go of the life she had led so far and accept her new one as a Jedi. Though unknowingly, the psychologist helped let go of her previous life as well, and to accept the odd, unjust circumstances forced upon her by the system. This was something the system apparently liked, as it gave her 200 experience points for the “Coping Methods” quest.

As Ali’ya healed she started going out more too. Even with the restricted access of an initiate, the Jedi Temple was a place of wonders, both visual, intrinsic, and mechanical. The Room of a Thousand Fountains was beautiful, stretching on for acres and including the plants of five hundred systems. The fountains varied from large pools where the initiates learned to swim (something that was frustratingly quite different in this body, largely thanks to the dense bone tissue of her species) to small, hand-sized fountains that lined the walls, to intricate, interwoven rock fountains that glowed with the Force. Stone-shaping was something of a lost art, for though the texts and holocrons still existed to teach it no one alive knew how it felt.

The salles were nothing to write home about on the face of it. A variety of traditional training areas ranging from a dojo to a boxing gym, a shooting range (hidden away down the halls) and a small arena for competitions. Yet they were saturated with the Force, with centuries upon centuries of instruction, of willingness to teach and eagerness to learn. Ali’ya delighted in their lessons there, and spent much of her free time (something she was told would be substantially decreased once she reached the age of six) there, and not just for the 25% bonus to training combat skills.

School, for a young Jedi initiate, was decided on three things. Age--they started their true formal education at six--inclination (they were always asked which classes felt right to them, which were factored in as electives) and aptitude. The last of which is why Ali’ya, years after finishing her ACTs, was force to take yet another standardized test. For most of the initiates it would be their first, and one of very few. Jedi testing primarily consisted of a combination of practical exams and oral questioning. That was so the instructors could get a feel in the Force for if the person was guessing. Though more advanced, galaxy (or at least Republic)-wide qualifications for piloting, medicine, teaching, and just about anything else did require some standardized exams.

Unlike her peers, Ali’ya was not intimidated by the Junior Educational Direction Intake Exams, or JEDI Exams for short. She was frustrated by them (especially their length) but she was used to the concept. That her memory had magically improved thanks to the system was also of great help. Not that she didn’t cram for the exams. Knowing that she’d actually remember most if not all of what she read in such haste made her cram far more than she had as a normal human. But hey, what’s the point of having a system if you can’t game it.

Now you’ve got it! Quest: Gaming the System completed. 500 Experience points awarded.

Quest: JEDI Ace applied.

Score an Ace, or outstanding, on at least six of your aptitude tests.

Reward: 1,000 experience points, entry to higher-level classes

Failure: -200 experience points, start at low-level classes

God damn it, Ali’ya thought, and turned back to her book. Learning that quests had systematic fail penalties was disappointing, but not unexpected. Best get back to it, she sighed, turning back to Starfighters through the Ages: An Engineer’s Design

*

Quest: Million Downloads completed. 250 Experience Points.

Your book has now been downloaded one million times.

Quest: Billion Downloads applied.

Exciting, Ali’ya admitted. But did it have to happen now? With a thought she dismissed the notification, but it was already too late. Her pilot simulation crashed, and Ali’ya’s test was ended after only four minutes of combat simulation. The datapad exam went better, Ali’ya able to note all the standard rules of sub-light and hyperspace collision avoidance. Pass port-to-port, always follow your guide path, and make sure you’re going no faster than your brakes can handle. She did well on the finance exams as well, having studied the field extensively to make sure she was in the clear as far as her book sales went. And to look into investment possibilities. She was honestly surprised that the Jedi taught finances given how anti-materialist they were, but then she supposed someone had to pay for all their missions and the Senate certainly wasn’t willing to fork over a few thousand credits to track down a missing padawan.