Arc 2 Chapter Four

“Now, Padawan Jorel,” Er’izma warned, “I want you to spend three days planetside without getting into trouble. Do not try to break up criminal rings. Do not go ‘exploring’ only to find ancient ruins. Do not help someone who seems harmless only to discover they are secretly royalty on the run. Do not do anything that would put your life in danger.”

“I’ve only done the first thing!” the padawan in question objected. “And I didn’t even mean to do it!”

The Jedi Knight looked unimpressed. “You say that as if that makes it better. Perhaps I should take you with us after all.”

Jorel winced, but nodded. “If, if that’s what you think.” At the last several places they’d stopped at before they’d run into the ‘pirates’, the Padawan hadn’t been allowed off their ship, as they were only short stops to resupply, when a single shift of the crew got some time off, and if he was being honest with himself, Jorel was looking forward to this one. Now that the problem with the ‘pirates’ had been taken care of, the shift that had been skipped over was going to have a few days off.

The ‘pirates’ were actually the planetary defense force for Sochi, a planet whose main trade was tourism, and who were searching for actual pirates. Apparently, a band had started raiding the traffic in the sector, hanging around the system to try to rob the citizens who came from the Core and Colonies to go on vacation. As such, the local military was doing everything they could to try to stop the raiders, but had had. . . limited success, to say the least, which had led to their ‘trap’, not having expected someone actually coming to help.

Jorel had been surprised that they hadn’t known about the Judiciary Legions, until his Master had asked him, “Had you heard of the Judiciary Legions, before you arrived here, Padawan?” Which had been a good point.

“How many of Judiciary Legions are there?” he’d asked at the time, knowing that this one was the seventh, but not a lot about them.

“There are eighty-six of them,” the Knight had replied. “Half are assigned to ongoing duty in a single system, though most of those are prestige positions, not because they are needed. The others operate autonomously, some across a small set of sectors, and some, like ours, goes where they are needed.”

Jorel had frowned, “If there are that many, how come more people don’t know about them?””

The older man had laughed. “That many, Padawan? There are hundreds of thousands of systems in the Republic. At any given time there are less than fifty Judiciary Legions out and about. It’s a small wonder that Admiral Smycrow had heard of us, though it says good things that he did.”

As such, the Sochian ships had travelled with the Dove back to Sochi, the freighter still under control of the Flock’s soldiers just in case. However, everything had turned out to be on the up and up, and they’d returned the captured ship, while also billing the Sochian government for the expended munitions spent taking it, plus a little extra.

It was a ‘training expense’, as Er’izma had gleeful informed them.

From there, the members of the pirate crew that the government had captured had been sent up to the Dove, and, a short questioning session with the Jedi Knight later, a session that Jorel had not been part of, they had the location of their enemy.

However, the pirates only had a frigate, two corvettes, a handful of starfighters, and a freighter to hold their loot. When compared to the forces the Sochians had mustered, it would’ve been a hard fight, the forces evenly matched, military discipline hopefully trumping pirate cunning. When compared to the Dove, a fully stocked destroyer with several starfighter wings, and the Sochian forces, well, his master was so unconcerned he was letting people out on shore leave.

Part of Jorel had been wanting to watch the battle, but, as he’d learned from the other times the Dove had engaged an opponent, there wasn’t anything he could actually do. As such he’d kind of been looking forward into getting off the ship for a bit, but, despite that, he would do what his Master wanted.

At his Padawan’s deferment, the Jedi Knight rolled his eyes. “No, go, enjoy yourself. Just try to stay out of trouble,” he warned.

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” the Padawan smiled, as his Master waved him out of the office.

Sergeant Hisku was waiting for him outside, raising a single questioning eyebrow.

“We’ve got shore leave, but we need to keep out of trouble. Pack a bag and meet you at the shuttle?” he smiled, but she didn’t smile back, just nodded seriously, turning and walking away with purpose. “Come on, I’m not that bad, right? Right?” he called after her, but she didn’t say a word.

Stepping out of the shuttle, looking around, Jorel could tell why this place was a vacation destination. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and sunny to the same degree. The capital city was on the largest island in an extensive archipelago, and was a bustling, bright, and clean metropolis. Whereas Dell had seemed more like Coruscant, if only a single layer deep, this place just seemed. . . nice.

Even the Force here seemed more pleasant, not as strong as on Coruscant, but then it didn’t have the trillions of lives to add to it, but the Force also seemed a bit more. . . there than Dell had been. However, feeling out into it, he could clearly pick out the members of the Flock, the crewmen that made up Er’izma’s Judiciary Legion just standing out a bit more than everyone else did.

However, out of all of them, Hisku stood out the most. “So,” he asked, turning to face her. “Any idea of where to go first?”

The Chiss woman lifted her bag. “These first. Then, a local cantina.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” he smiled, and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s where the others are going,” she explained. “At least if something happens, we’ll have backup.”

Unable to argue with that, he followed her, dropping his bag off in his room, and, quick enough, they found themselves in a seaside cantina, sipping drinks as the waves calmly washed against the vivid yellow sands of the beach in the early afternoon.

It was one of the most boring things that he’d ever done in his life.

“So. . . people just do this. For fun?” he asked, nursing a drink. It was. . . nice he supposed, and calming, but if he wanted calming he’d meditate. Glancing around, most of the others had alcoholic drinks but, looking back at his own beverage, a beverage that Hisku had gotten for him personally, he supposed that might’ve been part of the appeal.

“So I’m told,” the Chiss woman replied, looking around as well, a moment of unsurity on her normally composed features. “I’d normally spend shore-leave with my squad-mates, but they’re on second shift, and we’re on first.”

Jorel looked to her, not trying to read her through the Force directly, but still feeling a stirring of sadness. She’d never mentioned her old squad before, and it was a bit surprising to hear her do so now. However, from what he knew of the woman, she wouldn’t mention things like that when she was ‘on-duty’, which she’d been, whenever he saw her, since the last time they were on leave. “Do you miss them? I’m sure we could work with them,” he offered.

“They’re a boarding team, and engineers,” she shrugged. “They’re not going to have overlapping duties with you.”

“Hey, I’m here to learn,” he argued. “I’m okay with engineering, but you have to admit, I’m a terrible shot. You’re helping, but maybe they could help in different ways?”

Hisku frowned, sipping her drink. “There are better instructors in the Flock.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but I’m still figuring out which end the bolt comes from, not how to be really good. They could help me with the basics, and the experts can focus on the people who can hit the broad side of a bantha.”

While her expression was reserved, stirrings of hope, faint to his senses, came from the woman. “I suppose it would best to most efficiently use our resources,” she acknowledged. “However when you’ve learned enough, it would be best to utilize more experienced instructors.”

“Of course,” he smiled, sitting back and sipping his own drink, a fruity, sweet concoction with just a taste of salt. Relaxing, he allowed the Force to flow easily through him, and through it, got a sense of the area around him.

The sergeant was correct, half the people in this cantina were part of the Flock, Humans, and Twileks, and others, but mostly Chiss, drinking and relaxing, all happy to be off the capital ship for a few days. Hisku stood out more starkly, partially because of the fact that he knew what her presence in the Force felt like, and partially because of her own ability in the Force.

It wasn’t enough to get a firm sense of her, like how Er’izma was a legion all on his own, or how Anaïs was crystalline flames, but it was there, untrained, and subtler because of it. Looking outwards in the Force, across the bar, his mind seemed to stutter for a moment, his eyes sliding over something, but, with his senses open, he could tell they had skipped over something.

He tensed, before making himself relax. Someone was using the Force here, but they were in a bar full of allies, and his Master had done his best to pound into his head to not jump whenever you felt something weird in the Force, unless it was a warning of oncoming danger, and this didn’t have that kind of. . . urgency.

“Whatever it is, we’re not going,” his attaché commented blandly, and he glanced over at her, confused. “The last time you looked like that, you ran into a burning building, and we were captured by criminals. Whatever it is, we’re not leaving.”

“It’s not like that,” he quickly reassured her, and from her wordless sip, expression flat, she didn’t believe him. “Gimme a sec.”

He closed his eyes, reaching out, and trying to feel everything around him. Hisku was there, and, reaching out more actively, he could feel her concern/worry/readiness. Reaching further, he could feel out the other members of the Flock, their emotions a riotous mix, though enjoyment was a solid undercurrent. In the others, their Presences much harder to pick up, it was a wider mix, though their undercurrent seemed to be annoyance/defensiveness/ownership.

They don’t like us in their cantina, Jorel couldn’t help but think, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. Reaching beyond even that, he was looking for. . . . there!

It felt, well, like his own Veil technique, an area of effect Mind Trick that just said ‘I’m not important, don’t mind me’. He could try and overpower it, but that would be very noticeable for everyone in the area that could use the Force, especially the person throwing up the Veil. Instead, he watched it carefully, mentally slipping inside it to see what was hidden there.

Opening his eyes, he looked to the source of the Veil, seeing a Chiss woman at the bar, her back to it, a beer held loosely as she stared right back at him. She wore a uniform, marking her as one of the Flock, but it was a much darker shade than the others, but, more than that, she looked familiar. Jorel had seen this woman before, but he couldn’t remember where.

The woman stood, walking over to their table, weaving through the crowd which seemed to unconsciously part around her before she got to where they were seated, plopped down, and dropped the Veil, not breaking eye contact.

Hisku froze, eyes darting over to the woman who likely had just seemed to appear out of thin air, and who just smiled lazily. “Hey again, newbie,” the Force user greeted.

“Hey,” he nodded back, finally remembering where he’d seen this woman. “You’re from Geist Squadron, right?”

“Glad to see we made an impression,” she quipped, even as Hisku stared at her with barely hidden hostility. “And hey to you too, Sergeant.”

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” his attaché replied, with cold formality.

That got the Padawan’s attention. “Hisku? What’s wrong.”

“Hisku?” the other woman laughed, glancing at the sergeant. “Aren’t you an ice queen.” She turned to look at Jorel. “It’s a Chiss thing,” she shrugged. “So, how you’ve been? Last time I saw ya, you were gettin’ over dippin’ into the Dark. That’s never fun.”

“You’ve done that?” he asked, unsure of where the conversation was going. He’d reached for that forbidden power to make sure that Hisku hadn’t died because of his stupidity. Why had she?

The woman grimaced. “Only a few times. Better than dying, but. . . ya got my sympathies kid. Worse than comin’ off spice, least that’s what I hear. Right, where are my manners?” she asked, putting down her beer, wiping her hand on her leg and holding it out to him. “Name’s Thriv’icki’nuruodo, but you can call me Vickin. Big E’s last apprentice was a ponce, but you seem okay.”

“That’s General Er’izma,” Hisku corrected, but Vickin just rolled her eyes.

“Thanks?” Jorel asked. “Though, I have to ask. Why aren’t you a Jedi? You can use the Force, and you’re stronger than some of the Initiates at the Temple, so, why?”

“Easy answer?” Vickin replied, “ I was ‘too old’. Long answer, we don’t really get Jedi in the Ascendency, ‘cept for Big E, and we’re not really keen on ‘em neither. Too many tellin’ everyone the way things ‘should’ be, instead of takin’ us as we are. Nah, back home if you’re Force Sensitive, you got a choice. Exile, or death.”

“Wait, wait, you kill your Force-users?” he asked, eyes wide, glancing over to Hisku, who he knew was Force sensitive. “I thought it was just ‘cheating’!”

The older woman snorted. “Kid, you don’t get what that means. This ain’t ‘cheatin’ at cards’, or ‘cheatin’ by lookin’ up the answers to a test to get into a job’, where ya still have to do the job. Nah, the Ascendency is all about what you can do, a ‘true meritocracy’,” she stated with mocking formality, waving her beer in his direction, before putting it down on the table, hard, for emphasis. “Cheaters break the system, so they’re not allowed. So when Big E swung by, I jumped on and didn’t look back. Best decision of my kriffin’ life. Went from livin’ in fear to bein’ able to do this.”

Reaching out with one hand, she made a grasping motion for her beer, the Force flexing as she called to it.

Nothing happened.

“Oh, Sithspit,” she swore. “Come on, how do you. . .” she muttered, making the motion again, and this time, the Force flowed, her beer jumping from the table to her hand, sloshing a little, but she grinned at him, a little drunk, but very proud. “Better with mind-stuff myself, but I’ve been getting’ better. Not a Jedi, but, I don’t really want to be. Ya guys are usually kind of dicks, but you seem okay enough.”

“Thanks,” Jorel replied dryly, taking the back-handed compliment in the spirit it was given, turning to Hisku, who looked at the other woman with distaste. “Really? They would’ve killed you?” If they wanted to do that, why are you still doing what they want? he wanted to ask, but didn’t.

“I understand why the system works the way it does,” his attaché replied with formality, understanding the question anyways. “I am grateful for the opportunities I have been provided.”

Vickin snorted, “Newbies. Give it a year or four and she’ll calm down. They always do."

“How many Force Sensitives do the Chiss have?” Jorel had to ask.

“A few,” Vickin smiled. “Couldn’t have the Skywalkers without them.”

The Padawan frowned, “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He?” the older woman asked in turn. “Skywalkers are women. I coulda been, but I can’t see Druk as a navigator.”

Now Jorel was even more confused. “Navigating? The Skywalker I know’s a Padawan. Really strong in the Force, but his technique sucks. He just brute-forces everything.” Which would’ve made the fact that he got picked as a Padawan sting more, if Anaïs hadn’t found out that the Knight who was taking him on was the Padawan of the Master that’d found the kid. Favoritism was one of those things that just kind of existed in the Order, while the Order pretended that those things didn’t happen.

After all, attachments were forbidden. Everyone knew it.

“Where’s he from?” Vickin asked, frowning. Jorel just shrugged, never having asked. “Eh, probably nothin’. But, yeah. We’ve got a good number crop up, more than some other races, enough that it’s a problem sometimes.” Finishing her beer, she waved a waiter over, ordering a round for the table.

When they arrived, Hisku looked at it with distaste. “Drinking on duty is against regulations,” she stated.

Vickin just snorted. “Yeah, you’re on duty. This your normal posting, or ya a new transfer?” she asked sarcastically, waving around the Cantina, before turning to him. “Hey, Jorel, you’ll have a drink, right?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged, taking a sip, and having to cough at the burning taste, provoking laughter from the Geist.

A touch of Force Healing helped, even as the woman called out, “Come on, that’s cheating!”

“Like you have room to talk,” Hisku muttered, but reached out for her own drink, taking a sip. The other two watched her, waiting for a reaction, but the younger woman just raised a single, challenging eyebrow, and drained the entire glass, placing it down with calm precision.

Vickin laughed, “Ice Queen’s got some cubes!” Draining her own, she waved to the waiter, holding up three fingers, before turning to Jorel. “Come on, that’s not gonna drink itself!”

With a mild feeling foreboding that had nothing to do with the Force, Jorel looked to Hisku, who shot him an expectant look. Letting out a breath, centering himself in the Force, he slugged down the burning drink, repressing his reaction the same way he would when the Temple Masters would ‘test’ his Mental Shields.

Think of it as training, he told himself, as he smiled at the Geist, not letting anything other than calm confidence show. “Eh, it’s not so bad.”

Honestly, it wasn’t him that started things. Interestingly, even drunk, he was centered. More centered, actually. Turns out, training to keep level at all times also applied to being intoxicated, though it did make sitting around a good deal more fun, trading stories of life in the Temple, versus some of the places Hisku and Vickin had seen, and trouble they’d gotten into.

Vickin had been more forthcoming than Hisku, but the sergeant had started opening up after a few more drinks. The sun had set, and who knows how much time had passed when things finally went wrong. The later it had gotten, the more packed the place had gotten, the locals coming in to find the cantina already occupied. Jorel didn’t know who started it, but someone had thrown the first punch, and it’d rapidly gotten out of hand.

The brawl had spread, and, short of jumping out the window, they were trapped. A large man took a swing at Vickin, who, cackling, had caught it, Force Control strengthening her body as she’d tossed him into a woman who’d grabbed a Chiss man, sending both down and letting the crewman reverse the hold.

Then a Rhodian had taken a swing at Hisku, who’d leaned out of the way, clocking him, only for the Rhodian’s friend to go after Jorel, at which point staying out of things wasn’t an option. For a second he’d considered grabbing his saber, and setting it to sting instead of cut, but no-one else was using weapons, except the occasional chair or bottle, and the Force itself seemed to warn him off it, even through his hazy thoughts, or because of them, he wasn’t really sure.

He and Hisku had been pulled further into the melee, while Vickin had practically jumped into it, and the two of them worked together, covering each other’s vulnerabilities, clearing out a space of safety in the chaos of combat.

The Force swirled around them, Vickin a dark wind that slipped at the edges of the fight while both Jorel and Hisku used Force Control to strengthen themselves. The Padawan nearly tripped the first time he sensed it from her, and her technique was worse than many Initiates, but the mere fact that she was using the Force, even if she probably didn’t mean to, brought a smile to his face.

And, after a few minutes of furious fighting, it was over, the locals down or fled, while the Flock, in high spirits, let out a collective cheer.

Then the police arrived.

Thankfully, after a night in holding, and paying a fee, they were let free into the rising light of dawn.

“Ugh, my head,” Hisku complained, shying away from the bright light.

Jorel, who’d taken time to fall into a healing trance while he waited, smiled, feeling good. “Want me to take care of that for you?”

The Chiss hesitated, before nodding with a grimace, stiffening as she closed her eyes.

Jorel cupped his hands, reaching out into the Force with his desire for her to get better, to be whole, and small, glowing droplets that shone an ethereal blue gathered in his palm. Turning his hand, the fluid stuck to his skin as he pressed it to her forehead, letting the Force flow through him, and into her, easing her pain.

Some of the tension eased out of her as he worked, but she stepped back before he was done, looking away. “Thank you. We should return to our rooms. We both need a shower and- you!” she hissed, as Vickin stepped out from an alley with a grin. “Where were you?”

“Hotel,” the older Chiss woman smiled, tossing two bottles their way, which they both caught. “Prison beds blow. Go on, have a drink.”

“I think we’ve had enough to drink, thank you very much,” Hisku shot back. “Isn’t that right, Jor-Padawan Jorel what are you doing?”

The Jedi lowered the bottle, having taken a swig. “Drinking. It’s sweet, fruity, and a little salty. Not alcoholic at all.”

“Yeah,” Vickin chuckled. “Hair of the dog’s for idiots who can’t handle a hangover, but that should help. You guys were fun, seeya ‘round!”

With that, the Geist drew a Veil around herself, though Jorel could still tell where she was by the location of the Veil, and she walked away, even as Hisku glared at the spot she disappeared from.

“So, shower?” Jorel suggested.

“Shower,” Hisku agreed. “And no more cantinas.”

The Padawan shrugged, “Hey, you were the one that suggested it.”

From her glare, the sergeant had no response to that, so he just smiled, walking past her, and heading for their hotel rooms.

The next two days they relaxed, seeing local shows, going swimming, and otherwise doing things you couldn’t on a ship. Soon enough, the Dove returned, the next shift cycling down to have a day off while they resumed their duties, but they were light as the ship was completely undamaged. Dropping his things off in his quarters, he and Hisku went to see Er’izma.

The Jedi Knight was at his desk, looking over reports when Jorel walked in, Hisku along with him, taking her position by the door. The older man looked up, and asked, “Padawan, how was your vacation?”

“Good,” Jorel answer honestly, “relaxing, stretched my legs somewhere that wasn’t made of Durasteel.”

“Do anything interesting?” Er’izma asked, sounding curious.

The younger man nodded. “Saw some local shows. Went swimming. It’s different in an ocean than in the Temple’s pools. That was fun. “

Finally, his Master looked up, and he wasn’t amused. “And this report of you being arrested for brawling, along with several dozen other crewmen.”

Jorel froze. “I, well, yeah that happened too, but it wasn’t that interesting. We didn’t start it, but they didn’t exactly take ‘I don’t want to fight’ for an answer, Sir,” he added, under the man’s flat stare.

Er’izma sighed. “Apparently three days was asking too much, or even sixteen hours. I suppose I should be grateful that no one died this time.”

“Master, that’s not fair,” the Padawan objected. “I didn’t go looking for a fight, a fight came and found me.”

“I suppose that counts for something,” the Knight replied. “And where we’re going next, that won’t be an issue.”

Jorel sat up a bit straighter. “Where’re we going?” he echoed. As far as he knew they were just wandering.

The Commander of the Flock nodded solemnly. “There’s been an official request, and we’re the closest Judiciary Legion in range. From here, after two days to restock and resupply, we’re going to the Pengalan system. A civil war has broken out, and we’re going to end it.”