​A Corellian Jedi who leaves the system does so at his own peril

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

“All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
— Ancient poem

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'

The Jedi could not agree to this sentiment. The wounds remain, she could testify to that. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never truly gone. At best it abates and catches you unawares one dark night or distracts you when you can least afford it. And she’d had plenty of sleepless nights and waking nightmares to testify to this theory.

How long had she been on this planet? This desolate jungle somewhere in the Unknown Regions? She’d given up marking the dawns a long-long time ago but knew the passage of time was marked in years, if not decades. Time, it seemed was not relative — but rather was a significant thorn in her side.

Not that she was wallowing in pity — self or otherwise — but rather reflecting on her current predicament and what it told her of her understanding of the Jedi Code. She was not perfect, nobody was. Was she closer than most? Perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, she believed the hype. That she was in some way better than others. Whiter than white? This drew a smile on her haggard face. The skin hung from the bones now. The once supple and well-nourished skin was now dry and aged, she ate enough to live but her daily calorie intake could only sustain so much muscle and flesh and she’d effectively withered until her body mass matched the energy she could find from fruit and vegetables.

It was not that there were no animals to eat, but hunting was a dangerous pastime. For those creatures big enough to present a meal had their own predators and even a Jedi knew the odds — especially a Corellian one. When she’d first landed, she could hold her own but time and circumstances meant she no longer would risk direct encounters if she didn’t have to.

 

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

Had it been a fool’s errand? Or had it been a cry for help? Or maybe she was here because, once upon a time, she felt she needed to atone for something? Some days she genuinely could not remember why, or at least admitted the truth may be buried somewhere in her subconscious. She accepted she may never understand the truth - perhaps it was so painful that her mind protected her from the terrible reality.

But she had come here to find her Padawan, that much she knew. It had been a dream — or rather a vision during a deep meditation. She’d seen the planet, the forest of thorns, the green scaly Krayt Dragon and her Padawan. Alone and in danger.

She’d instinctively known where to travel to and how to get there, despite the system not being on any known maps. Of course that meant she could not leave clear instructions as to where she was going. But in her mind that mattered little. What was important was finding her Padawan and returning to civilisation.

But was it confidence or arrogance that led her to believe she would waltz in, scoop up her Padawan and return unscathed? In the first few months she’d come to realise there was a fine line between the two. The Code warned of such challenges. She taught Younglings and Padawans alike on the subject. Yet she’d fallen foul of the basic tenets.

Back then, at the very beginning, she saw only superficial reasons for her predicament. She was too focused on finding her Padawan to worry but the why’s and the wherefore’s. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks became months, she became more introspective. Her time spent meditating was less peaceful. When she emptied her mind, she could not drive out all emotion.

One lingered. ..

Endured...

Guilt.

 

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

The mission had been straightforward — find the planet, land, find her Padawan, get out. This was her kind of plan after all. She was no great strategist and was most definitely someone who liked to plan as she went along. Was this flying in the face of the Code’s tenets? Not as she saw it. She considered success and she considered failure and always in that order. She did not rush in, and was always known to bide her time whilst others rushed to a conclusion…or action.

Was she too measured perhaps? Was Grand Master Yoda? She doubted it.

Not that she ever believed she was without fault. Yet she trusted in the Force. Implicitly and unreservedly. And yet… And yet she questioned the Jedi teachings. Not the Force or her minuscule role in the grand scheme of things. But in the varying interpretations of wiser and more capable Jedi than her over the millennia. Some variations were obvious and necessary — such as having more than one Padawan when there was a shortage of masters, or even having children to perpetuate a species. But other changes were less well defined in her mind — like marriage, or material possessions.

In many ways she was a throwback to older times — when life as a Jedi was simpler and therefore less open to interpretation. In fact, she mused during the many long nights she lay awake on her ship, it was her attempt to embrace the new that caused her most of her anguish. But these thoughts were fleeting. Not because she was sure in her mind, but quite the opposite. It was because she was so unsure of her actions that she preferred not to dwell. Not to reflect.

Maybe in time she would come to terms with her inner turmoil, and if there was one thing she was certain of — it was that she had time on her hands. Way too much time. Here she was, free to roam an entire planet and yet she was more of a prisoner than if she’d been placed in a confined cell. Her walls were her own sense of morality. Of duty. And of guilt.

It always came back to guilt.

 

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

Of course, guilt was a challenge to define. Or rather, it had more than one meaning — despite their similarities on cursory inspection. Maybe it was this lack of singular interpretation that caused her the most anguish.

For guilt can be described as an unhappy feeling that you have because you have done something wrong. But, equally, it can describe the belief that you think that you have done something wrong.

One was absolute and the other a perception. But which was the truth on this occasion? And did it matter? Yes, facts are facts — and perceptions of facts are just perceptions. It was something she was keen to point out to anyone who conflated the two. Yet here and now, the feeling was overwhelming when she approached it, and she knew that — deep down — she needed to understand her culpability. Was she a bad person that should atone? Or someone who tried and failed and should be supported in her anguish?

For she was the first to say that the future is all that matters. The past may be a permanent record, but it does not have to dictate your actions going forward. But, like so many wise teachings, it didn’t count until the recipient believed it. And here, alone, she had no-one to convince her of the strength of the argument.

So, she did what she always did — she trusted in the Force.

 

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

As someone who lived for a time on Tatooine, the Jedi was familiar with Krayt Dragons. But it was still a surprise to encounter a variant on this uncharted planet. This one was a little smaller - at maybe 30 metres in length. These ones also lived in the mountains and were no less a fierce hunter.

Fortunately, she never came close enough to its teeth to feel their sharpness, but the way she saw them devour prey showed how easily they ripped flesh from a still squirming animal. She wondered if they produced dragon pearls - and if so, could these be used as focusing crystals. And as she'd been unable to locate a graveyard, she was merely speculating on their existence.

But, despite its threat, it was by no means the most dangerous creature she'd encountered since she'd arrived.

 

[Perti Lumo'sinior]

This was a strange world. In many ways it was lost - somewhat like the Jedi that inhabited it. As far as she could tell, she was the only person for a considerable distance and possibly was the only human or near-human on the planet. Time allowed for many things. Reflection, study and most of all meditation. And in the latter she found she could use her Jedi Sense to travel further and further. Whereas many years (or was it now decades) ago, she could sense a matter of feet, now it seems she could literally draw a mental map some miles across.

Yes, the volume of flora and fauna meant she could not accurately map the whole terrain, her brain could not cope with the volume of data. But she could travel on this mental terrain and virtually visit locations. And in all that time she'd never encountered another person - nor sensed any force sensitive souls.

But her mental journey did find something interesting - or was that alarming? Places where there was no Force. Voids. Some, she discovered by a physical journey, were places. Caves, Rotten tree stumps that led into underground caverns. Others moved and she found out these to be creatures similar to ysalamir. Or rather the offspring of these force-dead creatures that mated with vornskrs. Not literally of course (or maybe they had) but the imagery was accurate. These were predators that had no Force signature yet could spot a Jedi a mile away.

It was evading these that ultimately led to the Jedi being in her current predicament.