Private Candleflames in the Dark

[William Thule]

“Faster,” Thule said sharply, even as his eyes went to where the bolt stung her in the thigh.

Every bruise and every burn felt as much his own failing as hers. All the pain he inflicted on her weighed on him, but what choice did he have? The stormtroopers would not take it easy, would not slow their fire just so her blade could catch up from one volley to the next. She needed to be better.

“Control. Let the Force guide you. Don’t think, feel. React.”

What a strange contrast, his words. He dare not let his feelings guide him. The closer they trained, the more he admired her resilience, courage, and intelligence. His eyes watched her movements, graceful despite the torturous morning run and sting of a half-dozen blaster burns and bruises. He could admire this much and no further.

So why was he holding his breath?

He exhaled through the nose.

“Don’t let distractions cloud your thoughts.” He spoke to himself as much as to her he supposed.

Thule tossed up a third training droid so that all three hovered, blasting at her intermittently with sharp bolts of red.

In order to “win” she needed to reflect the bolts back precisely into the droid from which they’d come. While blindfolded. Far easier said than done.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Andromeda's problem was not that she couldn't sense the drone droids.

She could feel them in the Force almost as clearly as she could sense Master Thule standing in his observational position. She could make out the contours of them almost as easily as she could picture Thule's tall, broad-shouldered frame. But much like Thule, the drones' intentions and inner machinations were inscrutable to her. Something about metal -- its provenance in earth, dug out by miners -- lent itself to Andromeda. She sensed it, could manipulate it more easily than other things. The addition of roughly-wrought electrum to her lightsaber hilt had done more than repair it; its presence felt like a direct connection to Andy when she wielded it, felt its thick golden vein as one of her own.

But also an essence that was not her own.

"Yes, Master," Andromeda said, almost a gasp as she spun to dodge another bolt that she wouldn't have been able to deflect in time. Focus, she shided herself coolly. Any padawan at the Temple could dot his by the time they were ten. Pull yourself together. "No distractions," she murmured her agreement, to herself more than Thule.

It helped her not at all with her goal. She could have crushed the drones, but that wasn't the assignment. She instead had to deflect bolts back at the droids. So far, the bolts she had managed to deflect went wide. Some caught on her blade and died there, the angle or motion trapping the energy.

Andromeda opened herself up to the Force, her dark eyes closing even beneath the blindfold. She drew on the Force like water from a well, letting it wash over her like a cleansing flood. It carried away fatigue, dulled the pain of the little burns she had sustained. She would spend a fair few minutes with the bacta lotion that evening for her inattention. A scar on her arm was one thing; several burns, tracing a constellation from shoulder to chest, midsection to thigh and calf wouldn't do at all.

She feared giving into instinct, giving up control, even to the Force. Losing control had once had disastrous consequences. Losing control had once saved her life and cost the lives of two others. It was as dangerous as it was seductive. But here, under the watchful eye of Master Thule, she allowed herself to give into the seductive whispers of the Force, to dip beneath the lapping surface of its pool, and gave herself to it.

She moved. Pivot. Dodge. Parry. Deflect. The first of the three drones, sensing it had been tagged, powered down. Andromeda could feel it float to the ground, where it laid, inert. The other two danced around her, some unseen protocol upping their challenge level in response to her small victory. A bolt raced at her -- she heard a whisper of warning before the subtle fitch! of the laser bolt. To her right, almost behind --

She didn't manage to deflect the bolt at the droid, but the swivel of her arms, over her head, wielding the lightsaber upside down to bat the bolt away felt like a victory anyway. Andromeda dropped into a graceful crouch as the other droid fired where her head had been a moment before, the bolt now sailing ineffectually over her head, landing some distance away on the mat.

Parry. Parry. Dodge. "Nnngh," Andromeda grunted as she leapt back to her feet, blade always moving, batting away at this bolt, then that, managing some two minutes later to power down the second of the three drones. Andromeda heard a slight whir as the third drone's innards kicked into overdrive, and then the bolts came faster, from more directions.

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

Thule continued to watch silently, crossing his arms as she took down a second droid after sustaining more burns. Those would leave a mark. He could feel her resisting giving herself fully over to the Force. She wanted to maintain control. He understood it. So much of his tutoring as the Baronness' son had been about exerting control. And they still did to a certain extent. What was the kinetic manipulation of an object but the exertion of control through the medium of the Force? But the deeper arts and understanding concerned a loss of self.

Extraordinarily difficult to achieve.

The air smelled of the lightsaber's ozone and dissipated plasma and sweat. He breathed in deeply. His jaw ticked as he grit down his teeth. He exhaled, seeking serenity.

Eventually, she took down the third and final droid. The metal sphere made a whirring noise before thudding onto the mat, leaving her standing there amid the three fallen orbs.

"If these were real droids you would have been killed at least three times," Thule remarked, consonants overly sharp as they fell from his tongue.

She was not ready yet.

His datapad dinged and he pulled it out, glancing at the emergency communique. The title made his heart sink. Superweapon. So... the imperials had developed one in haste and now they sough to deploy it. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the datapad. She was not ready.

"I need to read this. Take a breath," he said, not looking at her. "Look to your burns."

Thule continued to peruse the message, but his heart grew colder with every sentence.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

The last bolt struck home, deflected from Andromeda's vivid blue-green blade with a final flourish. Her glossy black braid swung followed through her arc, and she allowed herself a moment's satisfaction before taking a deep breath and powering down the blade. The sudden silence left only her own pulse in her ears, her slightly elevated breathing, and the faint hum of the air recyclers.

And Master Thule's criticism.

She didn't think that his assessment was exactly fair. After all, if she had been facing off against real droids she would not have the restrictions of the win conditions imposed on her. She would have been free to attack with her lightsaber. Or crush them. Or throw them down with the Force. But Andromeda held her tongue; it didn't matter if it was fair. She hadn't asked to become Master Thule's apprentice for the sake of rejecting his expertise. "Yes, Master," she said humbly, lowering her gaze. "I will do better."

And she felt safe in promising that she would, because she had. Whatever Master Thule's criticism, she was improving, her progress on a distinctly upward trajectory.

But better didn't mean good. It didn't even mean good enough. And so Andromeda accepted his verdict without argument, without even so much as an internal frown. After all, a month ago she would be even less prepared to deal with the droids -- real or not.

Andy dabbed her forehead with the back of her sleeve. A light sheen of sweat had grown there during the exertions with the last drone. Master Thule's attention drifted to his datapad, with an instruction to see to her burns. Whatever he was reading must have engrossed him; she felt a surge of something in the Force that she couldn't quite identify, then he turned inward.

Andy watched him a moment, then unbuttoned her tunic, shucking it off her shoulders and stripping it to the waist before letting it slide off her arms and onto the mat at her feet. She drew a little roller of bacta ointment from the medical pouch on her utility belt and set about applying the balm to the myriad burns that now populated her bronzed skin. She winced at the first touch of the roller to the burn on her shoulder, before the numbing kicked in. The next was a graze across her collarbone, requiring her to carefully adjust the strap of the form-fitting, cropped sports tank she wore during training before moving down. The touched up a blister next to her navel, another at the small of her back, absorbed in the task.

She rolled down one side of her leggings from the waistband, flexing so that she could look almost behind her to carefully apply the roller to the burn that had caught on the plane where her hip curved back. It was here that Thule's stillness became disconcerting. "Master?" she asked, half-turning back to him. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost." She popped the roller between her teeth for a moment, carefully rolling up her leggings until they were fully in their intended position.

She knelt down on her right knee and rolled up the stretchy fabric of the leggings from the bottom of her left leg this time, so she could address the burns on her calf and shin, and then she was finally finished. But Andy felt that something was very wrong. The certainty that typically emanated in comfortable, reliable, dependable waves from Master Thule seemed a little less solid now, the waters a kind of still that usually only came after a ship had sunk. Had he received bad news?

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

Thule became so engrossed in the report that all else in the room faded away for a moment. His features must have fallen, or perhaps only his spirit, because as he finished reading analyst's assessment Andromeda asked if he'd seen a ghost. Will looked up.

"It's news from the Core," he opened his mouth, then closed it. She sat on the mat, wearing only her leggings and a top that did nothing to hide her figure. The taut lines of her back glistened with sweat and bacta lotion under the room's harsh, artificial light as she knelt, pulled back up the fabric of a legging, and began to roll out a well-muscled calf.

Seldom did William find words freeze on his tongue. They did now. His teeth clacked shut and he clenched his jaw, focusing instead on the burns marking her skin. His lips twitched in a grimace. They must be painful. His responsibility. He needed to do better at putting aside these thoughts. But the weight of the war bore him down.

Is there no release?

"The Solipsists built a battle station capable of destroying planets," Thule shrugged out of his robe, the air in the room suddenly hot, so he wore only a loose sleeveless tunic. He rolled his shoulder, testing the range of motion. "They might deploy it against the Alliance soon."

He pulled off his boots one by one, then his socks, and stepped onto the mat.

"We should keep training. I think we will have to go to the front soon."

The Jedi Master unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, adjusted the setting to low power, and made to activate his blade.

"Are you ready?"

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

The words made Andromeda's blood run cold. She wanted to reply that that couldn't be possible, but her brief stint at the Jedi Temple and her crash course on galactic history had told her otherwise. Centuries ago, before Irvulix V had fallen into the massive cracks left by the plague, another empire had built two such monstrosities. It had destroyed a world and threatened more. Another empire that rose from its ashes -- and the incompetence and passivity of the New Republic -- had built an even more terrible weapon, which could destroy multiple planets in one go.

There's a pattern there for one who is willing to see the awful truth, Andromeda thought grimly.

Even more recently, though. Csilla, destroyed by a superweapon despite the galaxy's best efforts. And now, another rose to threaten everything.

"Won't the galaxy ever tire of tearing itself apart?" she asked, her voice small, as if addressed to everything and no one all at once. She didn't expect Master Thule to hear, let alone respond. When she looked up, he had shucked his robes and was rolling his shoulders like he usually did before they sparred. For a moment, Andromeda toyed with demurring. It had already been a long day, and in addition to being tired, she was sore from the burns. But she had made a commitment to herself when he had agreed to take her on as an apprentice: never say no.

Within reason.

If she could say yes, if she was capable of pushing herself, learning one more thing, then she would. And she found that with the Force as her ally, she was capable. "As you say, Master. If there is good to be done, we ought to try to do it," she said solemnly, accepting his decision that they would probably need to go to the front with a kind of stoic resolve, masking the fear and -- yes -- the excitement from her voice, if not from the signature she was putting into the Force. Perhaps she editorialized too much; were Jedi Padawans allowed to have an opinion?

Andromeda opened herself up to the Force, called to it, felt it surge within her as she gracefully rose to her feet, tugging off one boot and then the other and tossing them off the mat. She picked up her tunic and thought for a moment about shrugging back into it, but the room was almost too warm even without it, so she carried it to the edge of the mat and discarded it there with her belt. She touched the controls of her lightsaber, edging the power down to training mode, and thumbed the blade on. Even still, weeks later, Andromeda's heart swelled with gratitude and pride at the miracle in her hand. She turned back to Thule, offered a nearly-perfect Makashi salute with her blade before settling into an open stance and offering him a smile of confidence that she could almost make herself believe.

"Always ready, Master."

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

A smile flickered across his face, swift as a flash of lightning and gone just as quickly. A fine Makashi salute. He mirrored it back, then adopted a different posture altogether, the aggressive two-handed stance of Shien. He circled her at first, slowly, finding his footing on the mat as he stepped in a spot slick with sweat from earlier.

Muscles in his jaw tensed.

"It's the push and pull of the Force," he replied, "But it is only a passing shadow. A new dawn will come. It always does. I hope we will help usher it in together."

He darted forward, feet moving swiftly forward in two steps to close the gap between them before he brought his lightsaber down in heavy, battering blows meant to break apart her guard and overpower her through sheer strength. His fingers gripped his curved hilt tightly. It was a far cry from his usual form, but the change of pace would do them both good. Not every opponent would rely on precision and economy of movement. His lightsaber whipped through the air with a greedy hum in wide, sweeping arcs.

Eyes focused on their movements, the way she stepped, the way she blocked and . . . the way her chest rose and fell with the exertion of it all.

Closer and closer he pressed the attack, collisions jarring and jolts numbing fingers, until he suddenly looped his lightsaber twice around her blade and then flicked his wrist, seeking to wrench her lightsaber from her grasp and send it flying into the far corner of the room in a disarming maneuver.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Oh, he had her in the first half, not gonna lie.

Andromeda spent the first quarter of the battle scrambling to remember what form she was now being confronted with. It was almost impossible to identify it immediately, with so much of it being directed at her. Aside from Makashi, there were multiple forms that prized aggression, directness, pressing the advantage.

The second quarter was spent being maneuvered -- outwardly batted about like a tinfoil ball and a cat, but inwardly learning, sensing, feeling, and preparing to give into the Force. And as she usually did, she hesitated. But not for long.

She could sense his intent to disarm her before he did it. The Padawan gave Thule the satisfaction of slack-jawed shock, almost admiration, as the hilt of her blade was flicked from her grip, carried by momentum. But she did not allow it to be the end. Prepared, empowered by the Force, Andromeda willed the blade back to her, landing solidly in her other hand. She could have activated the blade, drawn it up in a movement that -- had the blade been at full power -- might have cleaved his arm from the elbow if he wasn't able to counter.

But even that she did not complete. No, that would leave her -- weaker, smaller, less capable, less confident than the Jedi Master opposite her -- still on the back foot, still with her back to the corner. Instead, Andromeda tumbled, her lithe body dropping into sort of diving somersault, leaping to her feet and turning in one fell movement, bringing her blade up in a strong defensive posture, and with space behind her to maneuver.

It wasn't a regulation Makashi move, but -- well, turnabout was fair play.

Andy thrust with the blade, precision over power, and allowed her blade to follow the momentum of his parries. It felt vulnerable to leave herself open, but his blade moved with hers, and as she drew on the Force she could almost sense the danger, directing her blade back at him, seeking to distract his offensive strikes by requiring him to defend instead. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, knowing that any moment she could feel the sting of his blade -- but seeking the breathless triumph of letting him finally taste the sting of her own.

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

"Good," he rasped, their blades colliding and sparking as his saber met her thrust and shunted it to the side. He stepped in toward her. Their twin bars of plasma crackled against one another in a blade lock. He saw her features awash in the glow of the lightsabers. Those brown eyes reflected the light, burning with exhilaration.

Another smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The way she'd maintained control over her lightsaber with the Force and the use of her other hand was clever. If she sought to exploit the opening created by the move, she might have even landed a hit on him. Perhaps. Instead, her somersault created distance.

"Space and defense," he said over the crackle of their intertwined blades, "Necessary to develop a strategy, but not something the battlefield often affords. Least of all by Sith."

Leaning forward, he pushed his blade, using the difference in height, strength, and power in the Force to try to push her own blade back onto her, "They will press you. Aggressive. Relentless."

Once more, he changed the dynamic.

"Unpredictable."

He released his two-handed grip on his lightsaber hilt, one hand shooting out to grab at her bicep, even as he stepped forward into her. His leg swept out and back and he leaned forward, trying to reap the foot she had her weight planted on out from under her and send them both sprawling to the ground. The blade lock had merely been the distraction to afford the posture set up and the opening.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

A spark, a crack as their blades ground against one another, pure energy meeting pure energy in what could have been an eternal battle. An unstoppable force, an immovable object, both incapable of yielding without outside influence. Andromeda's teeth ground as she struggled to maintain her poise and her strength. The Force was her ally, but it was no match for a Jedi Master -- whose ally was the Force as well -- who in addition to his years of training had height, muscle mass, and strength on his side. She was driven back a step, then two. "Hnngh!" she all-but snarled as she felt herself losing ground once again.

The Sith won't play fair, he seemed to be saying. Should I?

Andromeda understood too late what was coming -- too late to stop it, but just in time to leverage it. And recognizing that there was more virtue in asking forgiveness than permission, the padawan used the only tools she had in her arsenal against the overwhelming force that he was bringing to bear against her. As she went down, Andromeda let go of her lightsaber with one hand, barely maintaining her block as she heaved with an open palm as hard as she could at his gut, seeking to drive the wind from him, to buy herself time to regain her composure.

Instead, her palm connected with what might as well have been solid wood if not for the warmth and presence in the Force, and she found herself driven to the mat by his solid mass, and it was Andromeda who found herself shocked out of breathing. She wasn't in pain as much as she was confused and stunned, frustrated by being bested again despite her best efforts.

It was a few moments before she forced herself to gasp, ordered herself to open her eyes, fully prepared for the look of quiet triumph in Master Thule that would say -- without saying -- I win and you lose... t'will ever be thus. "I think -- I might -- start bringing -- my blaster -- to these -- sessions," Andromeda panted, sounding winded rather than casual and nonchalant as she had hoped.

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

Rather than find him looming over her in triumph, she looked up to see him kneeling beside her sprawled form. His own chest rose and fell quietly, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. Sweat beaded his brow. He'd held little back in this short bout, figuring his use of an unorthodox form might provide enough of an offset.

"If you like," he replied softly, though his words carried an undertow of mirth. "There are techniques with blasters as well that you might find useful."

He rubbed the heel of his hand against where she'd struck him in the gut. That would leave a bruise.

"Nice palm strike. Aim an inch higher next time and you'll hit the solar plexus."

A disabling blow in most cases.

Absently, Will grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up to mop at his brow. The brief movement afforded her a glimpse of what lay beneath, where a small bruise discolored his lean abdomen. Higher, several scars marred his skin. One looked cylindrical, like a lightsaber thrust.

Thule dropped the shirt and deactivated his blade. It shrank away with a whoosh. He sat back on his hands on the mat beside her as they both caught their breath.

"We should go to the front," he said before the silence lingered too long. Onyx eyes drifted to her face. "I've driven you hard. Maybe too hard. But if we go and you die out there I..."

The Jedi looked away from her and shook his head. "I don't think I'd forgive myself."

Not again.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Andromeda sat up. Her braid had come partially unraveled, her hair hanging haphazardly until she raked her fingers through it to straighten it and retrieve the elastic tie. As she gathered the strands of her hair into a ponytail, she watched Thule curiously. "An inch higher, huh?" she asked. Her eyes dropped to the mark her palm left on his midsection, then instinctively flickered away at the realization that there was something vaguely voyeuristic about. Yet, something drew her gaze back.

So Master Thule knew a thing about scars, she mused. Her fingers tugged her hair through the elastic, wound the elastic over again, then a third time before tugging her hair to pull the band snug. Her dark eyes narrowed in on the circular scar there, moments before his tunic dropped into place. She wanted to ask about it -- equal parts genuine concern and a sense of playing by playground rules. She had, after all, shown him hers -- and told the pitiful story behind it. But perhaps now was not the best time to pry.

Not when they were having such a nice time.

Andromeda would have laughed at the thought, but she was still incredibly sore from the takedown.

"Whatever happens to me will be my doing -- and the Sith's who does it -- not yours," Andromeda said plainly. "No one could reasonably expect a month of training make the difference if I were to run afoul of a fully-trained Sith." It was a platitude, of course. She suspected he was the type of person to feel responsible, whatever the case. She wanted to say more -- to assure him that the last few weeks of training had been worth everything to her, but... that felt defeatist, somehow. As if she was preparing to say her goodbyes. They hadn't even left for the front lines, yet. Instead, she said, her voice quiet: "It was a miracle I got away from the last one."

"I'm prepared to go, so don't take this the wrong way," Andromeda said carefully. She scooted closer, until her toes were almost touching his. It felt safer, to be in close quarters to whisper such a heretical insecurity. Andy had seen and heard enough about the Order and about the Alliance to know that heroic intentions didn't often yield positive results, but she didn't want to advertise that too loudly. "But what can we two hope to accomplish against a weapon like that?"

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

“Maybe nothing,” he said, frowning as her foot came to rest so close to his. Unlike before, he did not withdraw or shift away. “Maybe everything. It’s impossible to know.”

Eyes dark as opals watched her inscrutably.

“The rote answer is that we should trust in the Force. That it will direct us,” Will shook his head, “that’s not my reason.”

He reached up and combed his fingers through his long, dark hair, pushing the errant locks into place in the slicked back coif he so carefully maintained.

“If we don’t go, if we give up… they win,” he dropped his hand, pursing his lips for a moment in thought, “that’s why we struggle. That’s why we go back, even if it seems futile. We must bear hope.”

Ah but this was somber, far more dour than he intended.

“And perhaps you’ll get to punch a Sith or two in the solar plexus,” he finished, cracking a smile he did not truly feel, and nudging at her bare foot with his own, “I have a feeling that would make your day.”

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Andromeda considered his words carefully.

She had to admire Master Thule for his ability to recognixe dogma, and to separate from it where appropriate -- not because it was necessarily wrong but because there were better reasons, more compelling reasons, to do or believe something. It really did come down to the fact that for the Light to survive, it needed defenders to show up to protect it. Maybe they could not stop the darkness -- two Jedi, or two hundred, or two thousand -- but total defeat of the dark wasn't the only thing that could be considered a success.

His joke about punching a Sith made her laugh. It was a melodious sound, even if it was brittle, as a tool once used often but now rusted with disuse. "If the Force wills it, Master," Andy said pleasantly. "And only if it does. I only hope any Sith we encounter are a little softer than you." She gave her hand a little shake, then rubbed at the pulse point in her wrist. "I suspect my wrist will be sore much longer than your -- uh -- torso."

The moment was a nice reprieve from the horrors of learning of yet another superweapon, but like anything else, it couldn't last forever. Andromeda hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin between them as she fixed her mentor with a pair of solemn doe eyes. "When will we leave, Master?"

* * * * *​

Andromeda beamed into the camera of her datapad at the older smuggler on the other end of the connection. She recognized the galley of his ship. "Ach, lass," he said warmly. "Ain't ye a sight fer sore eyes?"

"I could say the same about you, Baig," Andy said. It was genuine. "Did you get that alluvial dampener taken care of, or did you just find a way to silence the alarm?"

"Both, as it happens," Baig said. "Damn thing was making me batty. Now where're ye now? Looks like a ship."

Andy glanced over her shoulder. It was a ship. She was squatting on her rucksack, tucked into a corner of the boarding area. Ready to go, but out of the way so that when Master Thule returned he wouldn't trip over her. "That's right," she told him. She knew she couldn't say much -- operational security, after all -- but she wanted to make sure he knew she wouldn't be at the Zakuul outpost.

But before she could answer, he went on: "How are ye doing, lass? That new teacher o'yers must be doing you good. You look much happier than ye did last we spoke."

"Do I?" Andy asked, trying not to sound pleased, although she was. It seemed like vanity. "It's -- yes, it has, I think. Master Thule isn't easy, but I've learned so much from him already." She paused and smiled to herself. "I'm quite fortunate to be learning from him."

"Hmm. Well," said Baig, his voice slightly uncertain. He leaned closer to his screen, apparently scrutinizing her carefully. Andy almost leaned away. "Ye look skinny," he declared matter-of-factly, in the tone of a kindly uncle. "Like when ye first came oot of the mine. Are ye gettin' enough to eat, child?"

Andy frowned. "I'm sure I am." She paused a moment, brushing a strand of glossy black hair behind one ear. She had noticed a certain reshaping of herself over the last month. She had never been chubby, but her body had developed subtly toned, sleek curves where previously there had been soft, slightly wiry limbs and body. Almost like her training was chiseling the real her into the rock that had once been the proto-Andromeda Demir. "But I've been training hard. I've got muscles in places I never knew I did." Andy playfully flexed one arm. Indeed, she had toned the muscles there. "See? I could pull the -- what was it? The ears off a gundark?"

Baig huffed out his nostrils, which Andy knew was stifled laughter. But then he sobered, and he looked unconvinced. "Aye, lass, that'll be it. But just -- I know ye want tae help and all, but remember ye cannae pour from an empty cup. Don't let this 'Master Thule'," he said with a slight sniff, "push ye too hard."

Andromeda hesitated a moment, then nodded, if only to mollify her friend. She certainly had no intention of asking for a reprieve on her training regimen, not after she had agreed to do what was hard, to be pushed to her limit, in order to learn from William. Master Thule, she reminded herself sternly. "It's -- it's not like that. He wouldn't... Master Thule is pushing me to do what he knows I can achieve," she said, in a tone that was defensive enough to surprise her. "But -- ah -- why I wanted to call. I wanted to let you know that we'll be leaving the outpost here. So I won't get any messages you send here. I don't know where we'll be going, exactly, or where I'll end up, but -- until then -- would you mind looking after Scrappy for me a while longer?"

Baig's brow furrowed. He didn't like the uncertainty, but he knew that his onetime charge -- now, his friend -- had to chart her own path. "Oh, aye, tis no problem, lass." The droid, hearing its name, clanked over and made a delighted blurrrrshizzzz noise, lifting one of the arms Andromeda herself had installed in a rudimentary wave, its singular photoreceptor flickering in what Andromeda hoped was whatever the droid equivalent of delight was. "See? He knows his mummy."

"Mummy. Light forbid," she said on a barked laugh at the absurdity. She did miss the old smuggler from time to time. "Thank you, Captain. I hope he's not too much trouble. Um, I'd better go. Take care of yourself, Baig. Please."

"Aye," said Baig warmly. "And ye look after yerself, too, lass. Can't be looking after this droid -- stop saving, ye fool, she sees ye -- into my old age. Older age," he amended. He sobered and looked into the camera lens. "Be safe, lass. Be safe."

Andromeda found herself slightly choked, so she only nodded a promise that she would, and she disconnected the car. She stayed watching the screen go black for a moment, then cleared her throat and turned so she could tuck her datapad into her kit. She wondered idly whether William -- Master Thule -- was making a similar call to someone, some friend or family who kept in touch. If he had any such person, he had never shared. "Not that it's any of your business," she reminded herself under her breath.

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

"Will, you're not going to make it in time," said the holograph of a severe looking Cerean inside the cockpit of Thule's personal ship, Pegasus.

Not that Jedi should own personal possessions, but it came with being Baron of Cinnagar. Or had, once. He was not sure how much of the city still stood after the Solipsists moved in. He still had not mentioned his title to Andromeda. She might know already. It did not seem necessary to mention for her training. And he had tried to keep an arms distance between them.

"We can push the limits of the hyperdrive, Kivat. We can make it," Thule said dismissively, trying to convince himself.

"No, their superweapon is already on the way. The Alliance fleet is gathering in opposition, all available assets. I expect engagement within the week, Will... I'm sorry."

The Jedi Master sat down hard, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Damn it," he cursed, glaring at the deck beneath his feet. "Damn it."

"The Force is with us. I have faith. We only lost at Coruscant and Arkania because we weren't ready. We hadn't gathered all our resources. Now we have not one but two super star destroyers we can bring to bear, the ANVs Tython and Organa. I'll be on the Tython."

Thule nodded, looking back up, "Right in the middle of the action. Damn it, Kivat. I need to be there."

"You won't be... but we will need you at the next one."

"Yes. I'm still going to try."

"I'd expect nothing less. Force be with you, Thule. I will see you on the other side."

"And with you."

The connection died. Thule sat there for a moment, then flicked a few switches and raised the ramp. They'd all the supplies they needed aboard. It was time to life. He clicked on the intercom, voice ringing out across the yacht.

"Lift off in five, Andromeda," he could feel her presence on the ship, "We need to make good time.

Moments later, the starship rose off the landing pad and accelerated up through atmosphere until it breached orbit, then Thule jumped them to hyperspace, where only the blue whorl flickered before them. Nothing for him to do now. He stood up and walked out of the cockpit.

The two of them could operate the Pegasus solo. At fifty meters in length, it might be a large vessel for just the two of them but the Kuat Drive Yards ship was the average size for a comparable Corellian freighter. The only difference came in the interior. Where a freighter maximized cargo hold, the Starwind emphasized... interior activities. Thule repurposed most of the pleasure yacht over as a training center, but there were a few rooms he had not changed like the holotheater and the Zero-G chamber.

They seemed such frivolities now.

He sought out his apprentice. It was time to commence the on-board training regimen.

* * *

After two full days of rigorous training aboard the ship and numerous hours spent at night trying to calculate a better path, Will began to accept that they likely would not make it in time. He still hoped that he could gain an hour or two. That it might make a difference. But it seemed unlikely. And that made sleeping difficult at best. After tossing and turning fitfully in his quarters, he threw off the covers and got out of bed.

He glanced at the display clock. Two in the morning. Not that you could truly tell in space, but he tried to keep a circadian rhythm. Sighing, Thule rolled his neck, stiff from a blow Andromeda had landed the other day, then walked over and hit the access panel on his door. It hissed aside and the slight temperature change of the main cabin hit him. Two degrees colder. Goosebumps rose across the bare skin of his chest. Wearing loose, gray sleep pants he walked barefoot into the main cabin area.

With only the two of them, the place was a ghost ship. Most of the time, he found the solitude enjoyable. Enough space here that they were not completely on top of each other. Doing this week and a half long trip in a two-seater fighter seemed almost unimaginable.

Walking over to the kitchen, he pulled out a cup and turned to get himself some water from their autodispenser.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

For the first time in awhile, Andromeda found sleep elusive.

In the weeks since she had begun training with Master Thule, the intensity of the physical demands of the training had kept her nearly always exhausted by dinner, let alone lights-out in the Padawan Quarters. It was all she could do most nights to read a few lines of a historical archive she had borrowed from the library, or type a few lines to Baig, before she found herself nodding off and dragging herself to her narrow bed.

The intensity of the training had not abated, and yet Andromeda found herself staring at the ceiling of the bedroom she had been allotted by Master Thule. It was a nice room -- quite comfortable -- and even though the furnishings were plain, there was something about the finish and fabrics that seemed to the miner's daughter to be rather fancy. The linens were somehow cool and simultaneously warm, and buttery around her shoulders, and unlike the sheets on the bunk at the Zakuul outpost, didn't leave a mark on her skin where the stitching was.

It wasn't for lack of effort, or for lack of comfort, that Andromeda found herself staring up at the ceiling, watching the methodical blue charging light pulsing from where her datapad sat on the bedside table. Something gnawed at her inside, in the pit of her stomach, some unnamed thing. She sighed quietly as she rolled onto her side. No, she thought. Here, alone in this space, she could be honest. Had to be honest. It was fear. The thing that Jedi were supposed to be able to overcome. It wasn't fear that she would be killed. Growing up on Irvulix V had allowed her to be circumspect in that regard. She had lived on borrowed time since her mother gave birth to her on a poisoned rock, in a village with no medical facilities and hardly any clean water. Everyone in her village was. If it wasn't a collapse or an exploding gas pocket, it was carbon monoxide or an overzealous City tax assessor, or pneumonia or flu, or blight or exposure. Even in life, they had all been amongst death, always.

She didn't fear dying. She didn't want to die, but she knew that there were worse things. Like living after a loved one died. Like living with the weight of your mistakes. Part of her was afraid of a galaxy spiraling toward darkness. Another part of her was afraid that William would leave her. That Master Thule might die.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, set her bare feet on the carpet. The room was so nice even the floor had a blanket. Andromeda stood and smoothed her sheet and blanket automatically. Master Thule might die. The thought made her feel cold. She would be stranded wherever they were, but that wasn't what she was afraid of, not really. The fear was that the man who had recognized her potential and reached out a hand to pull her from the morass of shame and self-punishment she had been floundering in might be killed.

Am I strong enough? she asked herself in the darkness as she tucked the blanket under the pillow. To keep it together, if the worst should happen? To stay in the light when all around me is darkness?

The most terrifying thought of them all. But she didn't want to dwell on it. She needed something to do, something to occupy her, until she could approach it rationally, not from a place of childlike fear.

She didn't know where she was going, other than -- out. Habit more than any concern for her comfort or modesty led her to throw the thin kimono-style dressing gown she had bought herself at a stall market on -- was it Ukatis? She couldn't remember now. The thing allowed her a bit of modesty when crossing to the 'fresher, at least. She didn't go to the 'fresher, though, instead crossing to the equipment storage, nested between the autochef computer and the pantry. Master Thule had allowed her bring a tiny sapling of a tree she had planted on Zakuul on board, and keep it in this auxiliary storage area, as a kind of personal project. It had been a busy day, and she had forgotten to check on it.

The grow lamp was off. That wasn't good. Andromeda didn't bother with the overhead light; it didn't have the right kind of light to feed photosynthesis. A sun did it best, but a grow lamp was a reasonable substitute. In the open doorway, the running lights from the main corridor gave her enough light to examine the lamp. She separated the battery panel from the back and reseated the batteries. They were still juiced, but for some reason, the circuit wasn't closing.

Carefully prizing the wiring section off, Andromeda barely had time to set the panel aside when she heard footsteps and her breath caught in her throat. Would she be in trouble if she was out of bed after hours? They hadn't discussed a curfew, and yet -- Andy felt distinctly out of place here. This was William -- Master Thule's ship. It seemed to her that common courtesy demand she be out of his way as much as possible. She watched as he padded barefoot, in his sleep clothes, into the galley across the way. In the dim nighttime lights she could see him.

Andromeda swallowed and licked her lips, lowering her gaze to the glowlamp in her lap without seeing it. A moment later, she looked up again to see him taking a drink of water. Was he also anxious about what was coming? Or was this a routine nocturnal event that Andromeda typically slept through? She did not have time to think more of it, because as her eyes drifted down, so did her thumbs, and she pushed a shunt that had come dislodged back into place. The glowlamp flashed into light, illuminating her in an almost blinding light that no doubt spilled through the doorway, across the hall, and into the galley.

She fumbled for the switch, sure it was much too late now.

"Damn," she whispered as the light extinguished, only then chancing to look back up toward where she had last seen Thule.

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

A flow of light suddenly spilled into the darkness. Thule spun, cup dropping from his hand as he reached for a lightsaber that was not there out of habit. The cup bounced once, contents spilling out. Thule turned fully toward the source of the illumination, frowning. The light switched off almost immediately and it took a few seconds for his eyes to readjust to the dim light afforded by the runners. The light came from one of the nearby rooms, the same one where Andromeda stored that sapling she brought aboard.

William reached out with his senses. Yes. She was there. She felt... concerned. Anxious. And... something else.

"Andromeda?" he called out softly in the darkness. "What are you doing up?"

His eyes finally adjusted and in the dim light he could see her crouching there with an electrical panel in her lap and a grow lamp in hand. He took a step toward her, then stopped. She wore only a kimono. Ukatian style, he noted. Also, not fully fastened. Abruptly his mouth felt dry again.

Cold water puddled and ran across his toes.

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Andy felt a spike of alertness and confusion from Master Thule, followed by the sound of a cup hitting the deckplates, then bouncing and hitting again, the sloshing of water in the mix for good measure. Andromeda nearly facepalmed, knowing that she was the cause of the palaver.

Master Thule appeared in the doorway a moment later, and she was relieved that he looked more concerned than irate. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't -- " She took a breath and let the back panel settle into place on the glow lamp, her cursory glance also revealing what she was revealing. She set the lamp aside and stood up, gathering her dressing gown as casually as she could manage. Trying not to seem panicked or prudish, and likely failing.

"I couldn't sleep," she finally confessed, once she felt she could be trusted with words without getting flustered. Andromeda had really tried to master her tongue over the last few weeks. Think about what to say. Think about it again. Then say it. Not just spew whatever came to mind -- switching gears in the middle of sentences -- lots of unnecessary dashes. That was what prose and internal monologuing were for. Her eyes darted toward his briefly, then lowered again apologetically. "And I remembered I hadn't checked on the tree today so I -- I came in here and the lamp wasn't working, so I tried to fix it. I'm sorry, Master Thule, I didn't know you were up."

Abruptly she realized that by avoiding his eyes, her own gaze had settled on the peculiar round scar on his chest, the one she had caught a bare glimpse of some few days before during their sparring. It's rude to stare. Andy raised her chin to look at him again. Not defiant, but honest. "I didn't mean to disturb you." She looked past him, saw the puddle spreading there. "By the Light," she hissed to herself, and slipped past him in the narrow doorway to begin mopping up the water with an absorbent towel.

"I swear, I am house trained," she offered with a sheepish half-smile up at him as she picked up the cup. "Is something bothering you, Master? I mean -- before I did."

William Thule​

 

[William Thule]

"No," he said far too hastily.

Silence lingered. He turned around to follow her movements as she bent down and started mopping up the water. The Ukatian fabric folded around her form, hem falling short of mid-thigh. The muscles in her calves tensed as she bent lower, sculpted. Perfect. Like a statue on Teta.

Bringing her along was a terrible idea, he thought to himself, knowing he should look away. He did not.

"No," he said again, "You do not disturb me, Andromeda."

You never do.

He reached out in the Force and yanked the cup from her fingers into his outstretched hand, then offered the other for her to take and pull her back to her feet.

"You're not my servant," he chided.

The way she looked at him sometimes, the admiration in those eyes. Did it frighten him, or was it some other emotion he could not place? Impossible to say.

"I was thinking about what we will find when we get there," he mused softly, "Or what we won't."

The scant illumination made it difficult to see her clearly, features half-shadowed. But he could feel her in the Force. Had he let go of her hand? He should have...

"And you? What kept you up?"

Andromeda Demir

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Something about the insistence with which he jerked the cup out of her hand made her eyebrows furrow with indignation. It highlighted the little scar between her brows in a way that her mother had always said was endearing. The little things parents had to tell their children on Irvulix V. Andy took a breath and her brows relaxed; the little scar receded to its normal, almost paper-thin appearance as she let go of the irritation. "I know, Master," she said quietly. "But you're not a servant, either, and I am at least half to blame for the spill, creeping around in the dark like a damn fool."

She let him keep the cup, but remained crouched for a few moments more as she finished patting up the water. Only then did she give him her hand and allow him to help her up. She deposited the cloth on the edge of the nearby sink so she wouldn't forget to wring it out. She realized it was an almost domestic task, somethings he hadn't done since... well, home. There had been no call for it at the Jedi Temple, and other tasks and chores had held her time and attention since then.

But her attention, and her hand, were currently in the keeping of the Jedi Master.

"The same," she answered automatically. She didn't look up from the cup that he had placed on the counter. It was as handy a focal point as any. "Er... not exactly," Andromeda amended. "I'm worried about -- if something were to happen." She swallowed audibly, then finally looked up, her face stark and frank in the dim. "It's selfish, but I wonder what would happen to us -- that is, the Jedi -- if the Galactic Alliance fails to meet this moment. For good or for ill, the Order is tied up in all of it. And -- "

Here the Padawan took a sharp breath, and her free hand went to her middle. " -- if you want the whole truth and nothing but, I worry what will happen to me, if Light forbid you were to fall, or be injured and unable to carry on with my training. It's hard to believe me coming through whatever we face and not you -- though I think I got you pretty good with that neck chop, so watch out -- " The impish smile surfaced here, still sheepish, to join the lilt of humor in her voice. " -- but... these are the little things that keep me up at night, I suppose. What will become of me? I've come to realize since I've begun training with you that it's not enough for me to travel the galaxy doing good deeds with the Service Corps. It is important, but I want to realize my potential, too. I need to become a Jedi."

A pause there, as if Andromeda was waiting for the dark side to consume her for the sin of ambition. When it did not, she went on: "That wasn't a priority for the Order, or for the Service Corps. But I sense that it is for you. And I'm afraid of what will happen to me if you -- can't. I've seen whole worlds fall through the cracks as the Jedi grapple with crisis after crisis. It will be nothing for me to fall through the cracks, too."

Her hand flexed in his, fingertips curling around the edge of his palm, as if she could prevent whatever imaginary, unforeseen threat if her grip was strong enough.

William Thule​