An elegant weapon

[Sorel Crieff]

She’d consulted the star charts and galactic databases and was sure the planet was Velmor. She’d always been taught that Force visions were not entirely trustworthy, but by the same token, should be heeded. Something, or someone, was drawing her to the third terrestrial planet in the Velm system. And more specifically, to the Arctic polar region.

She squinted through the viewscreen of her old ship. Mist swirled around and below her. She could not see a landing site. With zero visibility, she was using instruments to pilot the transport. That, and her sure connection to the Force. At only sixteen years of age, she was already an expert pilot.

“The mist will clear in a moment,” she said out loud – as much for her own benefit as anything else. She knew that the craggy peaks of the ice mountains were close. The trick was to find a landing site. And duly she noted that the mist was beginning to thin. Patches of a lighter grey streaked through the clouds. Suddenly, as the craft lowered, the icy peaks appeared, looming out of the clouds, a flash of silver against a sea of grey.

There were no coordinates for her destination, she was following her instincts and the Force. This was it, she was sure, so she searched the crags for a likely landing spot. All he could see around her was the blinding white of ice and snow. But she instinctively knew that the seemingly sheer mountainsides concealed ledges and hidden caves. Sheets of ice made for treacherous possibilities.

At last she spotted a ledge that was protected from the wind. It was clear of snow and she saw only isolated patches of ice. It would be a tight fit, and there was always the danger the craft would slide on the ice straight off the ledge, but she knew she could do it and flipped switches to begin the landing procedures.

With cool nerves and a steady hand, she expertly manoeuvred the ship into the tight space. She set the ship down as gently as if the landing spot were a nest of kroyie eggs. There would be just enough room to activate the hatch and clamber out.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel looked out the viewscreen at the sheer icy cliffs surrounding her. Her face cracked with a broad grin – one that radiated pleasure and hope. So she pulled on her winter survival gear, fastening a thermal coat over her robes and pulled gloves over her hands. Finally she lowered goggles over her eyes. The temperatures outside were numbingly cold. Blizzards struck without warning. Ice formations had treacherous sharp edges.

She opened the bottom hatch and carefully stepped onto the icy ground. There was only a small amount of ledge between her and a drop of thousands of metres. The wind cut into the exposed parts of her bodiy, the tips of her nose and chin. The sun was just a pale suggestion of its true hue in the sky, a frosty colour almost indistinguishable from the white sky and the colours of ice and snow.

She closed her eyes and sought guidance from the Force as to where she should go next. Up felt the right direction. She regarded the cliff carefully. It was a sheer sheet of blue ice, smooth as a mirror. There were no handholds or footholds visible. Any misstep would send her flying into the open air. She reached for the cable launcher on her utility belt. "This had better be worth it,” she said, her breath almost crystallising as it exited her mouth.

The wind whipped a strand of stray hair away from her cheek. Her gaze snapped with the exhilaration of the adventure ahead – in truth she couldn’t wait to climb. Her Master always told her that anything worth having always came with a challenge. She activated the cable launcher and the sharp spike bit into the ice above. She tested the line and remembered to factor in the wind. There was wind shear on the mountain. The gusts could come from any direction. She needed to keep her body loose and focus on her balance.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She summoned stillness and felt calm immediately. Then she activated her line and let herself be hauled up at dizzying speed to hang suspended. She chipped at the ice with a sharp implement to create a foothold. Suddenly the biting wind gusted. It hit her broadside, causing her to momentarily sway against the ice cliff. She twisted so that her shoulder protected her face from the ice.

She slipped one foot into the crevice she’d created and hauled herself up slightly. Then she created a crevice for one hand. This was the tricky part, requiring perfect balance. Carefully, she loosened her cable launcher for the next assault on the ice. The wind suddenly flipped around from the other direction, slamming her against the ice. She lay as flat as she could against the cliff, digging in with her fingers. It felt as though a giant hand was trying to fling her off the face of the mountain.

As soon as the wind gusts subsided, she activated the cable line again. Only two more launches and she would be at the high, narrow ledge that she could see up above. She leapfrogged up the cliff, pausing to wait out the wind gusts. At last she was able to reach the lip of the cliff above and launched herself up to the safety of the ledge.

But she was not safe. She paused, teetering a bit on the edge. Surprise caused her to almost step back. A gorgodon was lying directly in front of her, sleeping near the mouth of a cave – which she now knew was her destination. Gorgodon's were large, hulking creatures. Usually their feeding grounds were on the icy plains below, where they thrived on lichen and scrub.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Gorgodon’s were also fierce predators. Their eyesight was poor, but their hearing and sense of smell were excellent. And the triple rows of teeth and the sharp claws were something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Just then a gust of wind swept the ledge. The wind must have carried her scent, for the gigantic creature stirred.

Suddenly a large, reptilian tail whipped out from the gorgodon, smacking her and sending her flying back toward the cliff edge. She was thrown back by the force of the blow and to compound it, her foot slid on an ice patch, sending her careening close to the edge of the cliff. But using the Force she leaped. With one arm, she kept her Master’s lightsaber slashing at the tail, which continued to flail toward her. With the other hand, she kept a tight hold of the rope.

The gorgodon was fully awake now and in a fury, its jaws snapping and eyes rolling. It roared, the fur sticking up now in sharp spikes. It bared its triple row of sharp yellow teeth at her. She had no choice as to her next move - the gorgodon was prepared to fight to the death.

As she was trained, her mind went clear and still. Look for the weakness in the strength. Their great size makes them powerful, but it also makes them clumsy. The gorgodon loped toward her. It had the dead relentless gaze of a predator as it raised a paw as big as a gravsled to swat her. She would be sent flying off the cliff if it connected. The blow was slow in coming, at least for the reflexes of a Jedi. She had time to contemplate her move and the likely counterattack. She rolled to the right, drawing the gorgodon in that direction. The creature swung out with its tail as it missed, as she expected it to. She struck a blow to the gorgodon’s side. She felt the impact shudder through her lightsaber. The skeletal structure of the gorgodon was extraordinarily strong, as well as covered by deep layers of fat and muscle. It would take more than one blow to fell such a creature.

The creature gave a howl as the blow connected. It whirled around with surprising speed, the lethal tail whipping forward toward her. This time she leaped backward, somersaulting in the air to give herself momentum. When she came down, she delivered a blow to the gorgodon’s nose that surprised the animal.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Suddenly Sorel’s foot hit a patch of black ice. Hidden by the shadows, the footing was slick and deadly. She slid helplessly straight toward the gorgodon. The great beast bared its yellow teeth and raised its massive arms to pin her between them. She accessed the Force and leaped as high as she could. She landed on a paw, which flicked her off like a flimsy durasheet. But she regained her balance and struck out in a furious series of moves. The lightsaber was a blur as she dived, feinted, and reversed, striking blow after blow at the gorgodon’s paws and body. The blows wouldn’t kill it, but they did slow it down. One angry, ear-splitting roar followed another. She moved so fast the gorgodon could not track her.

Then Sorel leaped forward. She struck out at the creature’s face with her lightsaber, but she saw the giant paws come together, trapping her. Her breath left her body at the blow. The gorgodon brought Sorel to his chest in a death-hug.

Her face was buried in the foul-smelling fur. She choked, struggling to fill her lungs. Instead, she breathed fur. The animal squeezed her tighter and she was afraid her ribs would crack. Her last reserves of breath whooshed out of her body and she tried to move her arms, but she was pinned.

The gorgodon’s grip intensified. She fought to stay conscious as her vision went grey. She kicked out with her feet, but it was like kicking the face of the mountain. Just when he thought he could hold out no longer, she deactivated her saber and managed to wiggle it between their bodies before reactivating it. The gorgodon’s grip lessened and its arms opened, dropping her abruptly to the hard ground. She scrambled out of the way as the animal fell dead.

Sorel rose slowly to her feet, still struggling to catch her breath. She paused, her clothing torn by the gorgodon’s claws, her hair matted with sweat. She peeled off her goggles and removed her survival gear before taking a step toward the cave.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Once inside the cave, she was plunged into darkness. The walls of the cave were of black stone. The rock was smooth and shiny, but it swallowed light rather than reflected it. Entering the cave was like entering a void. She stood still and waited for her eyes to adjust.

Finally she could distinguish the shape of the walls around her and the stray rocks in her path. She walked forwards and was soon swallowed up by the darkness of the cave. Ahead she saw a figure, a Gran. Her old Master? She’d seen him in a vision before and so was less surprised than she was last time. Maw said nothing. He made a gesture across his mouth, as though he could not speak. His image, she saw now, shimmered faintly.

Suddenly, Maw whirled and his lightsaber was in his hand. He waved it again and again, as if deflecting blaster bolts from some unseen enemy. Sorel stumbled back, her hand going to the the hilt of his lightsaber. She knew that this was not truly Maw, that her Master was not in danger, but the impulse to help was so strong she nearly drew his old saber that now adorned her hip.

Before she could do so, Maw suddenly staggered. Now he was facing her. She saw the shock in her former Master’s eyes. It was how he had looked when he’d received the death blow from his brother, two years ago.

“No!” She shouted. She could not relive that moment again. She simply could not. “I have already faced this test, Master. Do not do this to me. Not again!”

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Maw fell to his knees. His eyes remained on Sorel. The sadness in his gaze tore into her, searing and hot.

The image disappeared, only to reappear a heartbeat later. Again, she saw Maw double over. Again, she saw him sink to his knees. She was as helpless to reach out as she’d been two years earlier. Was she being taunted with her own failure to prevent her Master’s death?

“No,” she whispered.

Again and again, she was forced to relive his slow dying. She groped for calm but could not find it. All she could feel was pain. She raged again at his helplessness. She had watched her Master fall. It was the central event of her life. Why was he forced to relive it here, over and over? On his knees, Maw reached out to Sorel. This time, the image did not fade. Grief choked her as he took a half step toward her Master.

But something was different this time. Maw’s eyes were not filmed with pain. They were clear. They were holding a message. A warning? A plea? Sorel did not know,

“What is it, Master? What are you telling me?”

Maw shook his head helplessly. His hand trembled as he reached out to her. His fingers could almost touch her old tunic. As they came closer, the image dissolved into shimmering sparks of light.

Sorel was so shaken, she fell to her knees as Maw had. She felt the dampness of her cheeks, marked by tears. She had been given a message, but she could not decipher it. All she knew was that she had just faced her greatest fear. Since Maw’s death, she had been afraid that he would let down her old Master even as she struggled to uphold his legacy. Was Maw warning her that she was in danger of failing, after all?

 

[Sorel Crieff]

“Stop,” she begged. “Stop.”

As if the cave itself had heard her, everything stopped. The darkness fell around her like a heavy blanket. Warm and comforting. Shakily, she moved forward. She felt sweat trickle down her forehead and mingle with the tears on her cheeks. Ahead she saw a faint gleam on the floor of the cave.

“Crystals?”

Her step quickened. She leaned down to examine the cave floor. The golden crystals grew in intricate formations. Even in the dark cave, they glowed. She passed her hand over them without touching. She felt vibrations emanate from them. Slowly, she chose the two that seemed to speak to her. To her surprise, it was easy to break the pieces free. She placed them in the pouch hanging from her utility belt. Why two? She did not know, it just seemed right.

She stood, locking her knees so that her legs wouldn’t tremble. She was emotionally drained. Finally – when she was sure he was in complete control, she hurried back to the mouth of the cave. She had a saber to build. But where? And as importantly, how?

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She sat on her ship, wondering where to go. She knew she needed parts – but a buffeting from the wind made her realise that this was not the place to contemplate such a decision. So she took off and once in orbit, reappraised her options.

There was Voss, or Ossus. Both logical and yet neither felt right. She could not explain why, it was just that there was no overwhelming feeling that it was the place to go. She considered her former Master’s home world – but discounted that too. She needed and wanted something personal to her. She was sure the Force would inform her and set a course for Voss, to collect the parts she would need to craft her saber and she used the journey to take apart and reassemble her former Master’s saber – to understand how it was constructed and the parts she needed.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She stopped off at Voss for the parts she required but was still no closer to a place that felt right, so took the time to visit the gardens and meditate. No place came to mind, but images did – trees – and lots of them. It must be Kashyyyk, she deduced. And the more she was sure of this, the more details began to emerge. A memorial in a cave. And she saw an image of Master Yoda and a Jedi she had long admired – Luminara Unduli.

So she set a course for the Wookiee homeworld and en route identified that a Wookiee named Chak had created the memorial and so she was able to identify its location.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The cave was as she had visioned it and she brought into it the crystals and the parts she needed for constructing her saber. She knew what she had to do. Before crafting, she had to meditate – to enter into a trance state and cleanse her mind. Then her feelings would guide her intent.

So she sat on the floor of the cave. She emptied the contents of the pouch onto her lap and held the crystals in her palm. They had a strange warmth. And accessing the Force was not difficult for her. She felt it rise around her from the dirt and rocks and air, and especially from the crystals themselves. She felt comforted by that sureness.

She opened her eyes, sensing another in the cave. In front of her was a Gran, cloaked like a Jedi but her wore black robes. Strange markings covered his skin. His face wore a smirk, yet Sorel saw nothing but blackness and evil. She sprang to her feet, scattering the crystals.

“Did I startle you?” the Gran asked. He began to circle around her. “Perhaps you need to work on those Jedi reflexes. You’re almost as clumsy as your old Master.”

Rage pumped through her. Her former Master Maw had been the one to see that she could become a Jedi Knight when other Masters had passed her over. She owed him everything. She reached for her Master’s old lightsaber, but it flew out of his hand.

The Gran laughed. “This is not for you. Try this.” He threw something at her. It was a fully fashioned lightsaber, beautifully balanced, but with a long hilt. Clearly it was a saberstaff.

She activated it with a snap-hiss, and the two blades glowed crimson.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

“Why do you fear your anger?” the Gran asked. In a casual gesture, he activated his own double-bladed lightsaber. “Why do you fear your hate? I can feel it. You hate me. It is natural.” He bared his teeth. “After all, I know all about your Master. Your dead Master. One that betrayed and disappointed you. One that used the dark side behind your back.”

With a howl torn from her belly, Sorel threw herself at the Gran she now believed to be a Sith. Their lightsabers clashed. Their faces were close. She could smell the Sith’s foul metallic breath.

“You see?” Sorel’s enemy purred. “You see what anger can do? It gives you power. It is something you can use, like a weapon. You thought the same thing a moment ago. You will twist your fear into a weapon. Why deny it? Your Master did not.”

“No,” Sorel said, driving her lightsaber toward the Sith again. “I will learn to let my anger go. I am a Jedi. I promised my Master.”

“Fool,” the Sith Gran hissed. “There are other paths to power. Far better ones”

“It isn’t power I seek,” Sorel said, her lightsaber clashing with the Sith’s again. The shock of the blow made her grip her lightsaber with both hands. It at once felt a new experience but oddly familiar.

“Then you lie,” the Sith said, stepping back. “How else will you grow strong if you do not have power?”

Anger surged again. She whirled, her lightsaber circling, her body taut. The blow passed through her enemy.

The Sith laughed. “Silly girl. I am just a vision. Your vision. I am the Master you secretly wanted. I am the only one who will deliver to you what you most desire.”

“No!” Sorel screamed. She launched herself forward. Again and again she tried to strike a blow, using every technique she knew. The Sith’s own lightsaber whirled in a circle, deflecting her moves.

With a cunning twist, the Sith flipped Sorel’s lightsaber from her grasp. It spun in the air and then disintegrated into pieces. Then he reached out with one of his hands. Sorel felt the Force move against her body. She flew through the air and hit the cave wall. Her head hit the hard stone and she slid down. When her head cleared, she found herself sitting on the floor, the broken pieces of the lightsaber in her lap.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

“The dark side can deliver what you most desire,” the Sith Lord said, leaning over her. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. How could a vision have breath? “Admit it,” the Sith said. He raised his lightsaber for the killing blow.

Sorel summoned up the last shreds of her defiance. She stared down his foe. “I have created you. I can make you go.”

His arms still over his head, his lightsaber pulsing, the Sith smiled. “But I will return. Don’t you see, you created me, not this cave or the Force. I shall return for I dwell inside you.”

He disappeared, and there was only blackness. Sorel looked down. A completed lightsaber lay in her lap, the very lightsaber the Sith had tossed to her. Was it real? She picked it up and turned it in her hand. She gripped it, and it seemed solid against her fingers, a perfect fit. She activated it, and the twin shafts of the saber glowed golden, surprising her.