Chapter Sixteen (Patreon)

Ali’ya spent the first year as a padawan in the Temple. It made a certain amount of sense, though Ali’ya had half-expected to be sent on a mission immediately, as happened to so many Star Wars protagonists. Instead her new teacher--she may have to call him Master publicly, but the word still sat ill on her tongue--insisted that she first finish her schooling. Not that Ali’ya objected. At eleven she was young for a padawan, and that came with vulnerability regardless of her personal skills. Besides, there was still so much to learn! Jedi never truly stopped learning (nor did anyone else) but Ali’ya would like to take advantage of her youthful mental plasticity while she could. Not only that, but as she read she continued to discover new skills. Military leadership, military planning, topology, theoretical mathematics--the full list was no doubt as endless as the breadth of Galactic knowledge. It was one thing to know that she could never learn everything and quite another to see it written so plainly before her.

For the most part, Ali’ya’s schedule remained the same as ever. On Primeday she had private lightsaber lessons with Master Bulq and studied medicine with Initiate Che. On Centaxday she sparred with Mace and took apart droids with Kazdan. On Taungsday she had private Force lessons with Master Bulq and lightsaber lessons with Master Dooku, or another Makashi master when the vaunted Consular was unavailable. On Zhellday she studied cultures with Kirana and took Shyriiwook lessons from Ug’otor. On Benduday she had private lessons--sometimes Force and sometimes lightsaber and sometimes neither--with Master Bulq and taught Ug’otor Togorian. Also on Zhellday she had Cathar martial arts lessons with Knight Juhai when they were in the temple, which was about half the time. Additionally she had classes every day, alternating between A-blocks (Astronavigation, Galactic Geography, History, and Teras Kasi) and B-blocks (Dai Bendu, Jedi Philosophy, Lightsaber Combat--unfortunately Ataru, since Ali’ya had yet to meet the minimum proficiency requirements in the form--and a free block). Most of her free blocks, previously spent in the Archives, were now spent with Master Bulq.

“Ease yourself into it,” Master Bulq said, his deep voice interrupting Ali’ya’s internal monologue. “The Force will not depart.”

Ali’ya did not respond, instead doing her best to follow his words. Despite her high skill level, she paled compared to the meditative ability of her teacher.

“Like floating upon a pond of infinite water,” Master Bulq continued. “Trust the Force to catch you. To support you.”

Not unlike hypnosis, Ali’ya thought. Only instead of retracting, I reach out. She breathed and breathed out. She leaned back, her mind relaxing. She dropped, landing with a slight splash on the waves of the force.

“Open your eyes.”

The sight was blinding. Thousands of bright signatures, warm and welcoming, danced among themselves. Billions--trillions--more sat beneath them, pale and wan in comparison yet gleaming with life nonetheless. Formless, sightless, brilliant in a way she could not voice. The greatest of flowers, the grandest of buildings paled in comparison to the delightful display of life. In her past life the ceilings of the Alhambra had been one of her most beloved sights. Yet they seemed an ill-fitting description compared to the heavenly display before her.

“You see. Yet you do not. Let yourself float.”

Ali’ya banished her thoughts. She did not reach out. She dropped her shields, her thoughts, her interiority. She trusted the Force.

Armored men standing in a line, dug deep into the ground. Lasers flew around them and from them. OYA! they cried, and rushed forth.

Tall creatures with blades for hands dug into a breakfast of giant eggs. In the fields below, sharp-featured creatures in chains wept.

A child with a desperate cough lay, pale and faint, in the bed. A worried mother turned aside only to hide her own cough.

A farm--

“Ali’ya?”

Ali’ya blinked. She stared at his vibrant presence in the Force.. “M-Master Bulq?”

“You collapsed, Padawan,” her teacher explained, his presence in the Force retreating behind powerful shields.

“I--” Ali’ya tried to push herself up. Her arms were weak. Weaker than they’d ever been in this life, as if all her muscles had been pulled and exhausted.

“Easy,” Master Bulq said, gently helping her up. Ali’ya stood on uneasy feet, leaning heavily against her teacher as he helped her to the couch.

“I saw things,” Ali’ya said. “War, I think. Elsewhere, slavery. A disease?”

“Do you remember anything else?” Master Bulq asked, his voice gentle and eyes intense.

“Mandalore. Something to do with Mandalore.”

Master Bulq hummed. “What do you know of Mandalore?”

“Historically or the current situation?”

“Current situation,” Master Bulq clarified.

“The Clans hold most of the power,” Ali’ya began. “The centralized state, under the Mand’alor, was destroyed during the Dral’han, an unprovoked attack launched by the Republic against Jedi advice. The planet is almost uninhabitable with most living either in the domed-cities built by the Kalevalan faction or the small habitable area around Keldabe. With the central state destroyed and investment desperately needed for rebuilding, the largest and wealthiest Clans swiftly gained power. Among them were House Kryze, currently the leaders of the disarmament New Mandalorian faction, who grew wealthy due to their expertise in building on the toxic deserts of Kalevala, something that became desperately needed on Mandalore proper. They are opposed by the Traditionalists. Historically led by House Vizsla--the heirs of the Jedi-Mand’alor Tarre Vizsla--the Traditionalists have recently had a split between those who seek to revive Mandalore as an empire and those who seek to focus on internal matters. The Haat’ade are the largest faction of moderates, supporting Jaster Mereel’s reformist Supercommando Codex. The Kyr’tsad, Death Watch, are the second-largest, who hold that the Vizslas remain the true Mand’alors and follow a more strict and traditional interpretation of the Mandalorian code. Most of the traditionalists have remained neutral while both the Haat’ade and the Kyr’tsad veer towards war.”

“You are better informed than I anticipated,” Master Bulq mused.

“Togoria has long been an ally of Mandalore,” Ali’ya justified. “We managed to hold off the Taung, unlike many.”

“Yes,” Master Bulq agreed. “I remember Jocasta saying something like that during her study of Taung culture. If you wish to learn more, I would recommend speaking to her.”

“Yes, master.”

“You are aware of the situation on Mandalore,” Master Bulq continued. “You have knowledge. You have seen with the Force. What is your conclusion? What do you feel the Force wishes for you?”

“War will break out soon,” Ali’ya declared. “If it has not already. I know not what the Force desires for me.”

“There is no shame in admitting a lack of knowledge,” Master Bulq said gently. “Only shame in refusing to learn. You will need to learn more about the situation on Mandalore, and its history. Now, your next vision. You said you saw slavery?”

“I--I think so,” Ali’ya said hesitantly. “The vision seems so much blurrier.”

“Closer your eyes,” Master Bulq ordered. “Think on what you remember. Reach for the Force, ask it to open your eyes once more.”

Ali’ya breathed in.

Maroon skin.

Ali’ya breathed out.

A screaming woman, clutching eggs to her chest.

Ali’ya breathed in.

A tall creature slashed with bladed arms. The mother fell, and the being took the egg.

Ali’ya breathed out.

A dinner, well-spiced and enjoyed. Peace-content-happiness. The desert was brought out. Pale pink eggs.

Ali’ya opened her eyes.

“They’re killing them,” she said, breaths coming sharp and rapid. “I--they’re eating them.”

“Who?” her master’s rough tone calmed her. They would do something about this.

“Tall creatures,” Ali’ya said. “Bladed arms.” It rang a bell, something she remembered reading from her old life. Grievous. He had a reason for hating the Jedi, they had sided against his people. Something important. “I don’t know who they are, but they’re on Kalee. They’re eating Kaleesh eggs.”

“You are certain it is Kalee?”. . .

“I am.”

Master Bulq nodded sharply. “Ordinarily we would report such a belief to the High Council,” he said. “However in recent years they have become . . . prejudiced, shall we say, against visions. They will not believe you.”

“We can’t do nothing!” Ali’ya exclaimed, the Force crying in outrage.

“We will act,” Master Bulq promised. “Not all Jedi Masters are ignorant of the Unifying Force. Master Dooku, for instance. His eldest friend has often had dark visions. If there is anyone who will know how to check on Kalee while skirting around the High Council, it is him.”

Ali’ya started to stand, her legs feeling slightly more secure.

“Not yet, Padawan,” Master Bulq interrupted. “We still have one more vision to view.”

“Master--”

“Such things cannot be rushed,” Master Bulq cut her off. “It will take time to organize such an expedition, and longer to plan the legal and political defense. Now, your third vision.”

“A cough, Master.”

“It was more than a cough. Think, apprentice. What about the cough seemed strange?”

“A child was coughing,” Ali’ya said. “The mother was too. Nothing seemed strange about it.”

“Hmm,” Master Bulq hummed. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you have not seen it yet. You will meditate on each of your visions in turn, Padawan. I, for now, must away to see Master Dooku. Are you able to be on your own?”

“Yes, Master.”