Doaba ol'val tru, ke'dem (Alkor Centaris)

[Jorus Merrill]

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“This is a bad idea.”

“Look, Mara, I know you’ve been chewing on this for a while. If now’s the time, then go ahead and lay it on me.”

“All you know about this guy is that he dragged you out after you called down a fething airstrike on yourself.”

“Not true; I know he’s Corellian. Next objection.”

“Sure, because his Brotherhood’s made inroads with the SSC and you helped found the Sanctum and you’ve got his name and so you’ve got his record, because of course you do. And that record tells you he was exiled from Corellia for multiple counts of murder.”

“He was a kid, and that was a long time ago. Next objection.”

“You’re mainlining high-grade kolto to stay on your feet, and you still need me to gorram fly for you, you’re that torn up. And he’s ke'dem - a Dark Master.”

“He’s apparently real pragmatic, and I’m fine. This kolto is better than export. Energy’s low but I’m pretty much patched up, and the prosthesis is all clear. Next objection.”

“You’re not fine if this turns into a fight.”

“Remind me to tell you about the time I-”

“Not another story, Dad. For real: if this goes south, you’re toast.”

“Two counterpoints. Number one, this is a first contact scenario, and that’s what I do. Number two, I’ve got you.”

“We’re pretty screwed if my presence is supposed to deter him. I’m like one-ten soaking wet.”

“And you were taught Makashi by the best, and more importantly, you’re a Lorrdian-trained half-Zeltron empath. If he’s a problem, you’ll know it long before I will. Next objection.”

“The Dark Side’s getting strong around Rishi.”

“Sure is. But it’s right at the mouth of the Rishi Maze, and what’s all through the Rishi Maze?”

“Silk’s HALCYON space train transit network, RimSAR evac support, and some real ornery Reardon miners who owe you a drink.”

“Yup. Next objection.”

“...I don’t want you to go.”

“Well, that one I take pretty fething seriously, Mara, but look. The guy pulled me out of ground zero and didn’t ask a thing in return.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. All right, we’re coming up on Rishi.”

“Do your thing.”

The Gypsymoth, an old, modified, and much-abused YV-929, decanted from a blistering FTL speed. Mara’s course shifted toward Rishi’s barren moon, and Jorus’ instincts agreed. The flying brick slipped down into the moon’s shallow grav well. Mara leaned over the comm panel as she flew. “Rishi moon control, this is the Gypsymoth looking for Alcohor Centaris.”

“Alkor,” Jorus muttered.

“Looking for [member="Alkor Centaris"].”

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"This is the Ryuk, please maintain your current course while we hail Master Centaris. Please transmit your Manifest and power down any stealth fields so that we can verify you via scan."

The Comms Officer flipped over the channel and glanced up at his XO for further orders regarding the incoming ship. As they had not been expecting guests, let alone guests who sought the on-board Dark Jedi masters, the protocols were unprecedented. "For Alkor Centaris?" the officer in question recited thoughtfully. "I doubt seriously that they would approach so openly if they intended to assassinate or endanger any of us. Ask who's looking for him."

"Yes, sir," came the hasty response. The Comm channel hissed for a moment and opened again. "Gypsymoth, please identify your crew and cargo."

"Ensign Emilio," the XO called over to one of the less experienced crewman. The boy yelped, startled. "Open a line to Centaris' Comm. Inform him that a ship has come seeking him."

"Right away, sir!" Emilio flipped the necessary switch and opened the channel to Alkor's comm quickly. "Master Centaris, this is the command deck. A foreign ship designated the Gypsymoth has come asking for you by name."

************​

​

Alcohor sat on his knees in the meditation chamber that Romeo had fashioned aboard the Ryuk. When his comm blipped loudly, he sighed. Lifting it and pressing down on the button, he listened to the transmission. "Acknowledged, Command. I will attend them once they are aboard."

"Will you require a contingent for security purposes?"

"Negative, command. If they are hostile, I will eliminate them myself. Be prepared to send a janitorial squad in that contingency." Alkor closed the line and stood slowly. He opened both eyes and took a deep breath. "Jedi," he muttered to himself. "I know that presence. It feels like the wounded Master from the Sekalus system. What is he doing here?"

***********​

​

"Barbaric," the XO sneered in response as he listened to the curt response from Alkor. "Do as he says, put a clean-up crew on standby. Master Sin will not tolerate it if we allow that unrefined jackal to paint the interior of his ship red."

"He seemed fine with receiving them," Emilio said quietly. "Should we clear them to land?"

"Once they have submitted to the protocols we've set forth, and not before," the Comms Officer stated. "It would be potentially disastrous to let them board without exercising the proper amount of caution."

Emilio gulped. This was one of his first assignments, and the sheer amount of distrust unnerved him. Were all officers so uptight?

"Master Centaris has agreed to meet you upon boarding. May the Force be with you."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

Mara’s instinctive course and the comm pingback led the Gypsymoth around the barren moon -- and into sight of a Star Destroyer. Beside her, in the copilot’s seat, her father tensed. For Mara’s part, the tension was on another level entirely.

Because she knew that ship.

“Gypsymoth, please identify your crew and cargo.”

Mara kept the comm pickup muted. “Dad, that’s Romeo Sin’s Star Destroyer. I tangled with it over Eclipstica. I was in the Bullet Time, but I don’t know if my name got into the picture. There was, um, an ally of convenience who might have blabbed. Guess I’m not the asset you were counting on.”

“Easy fix.” Jorus leaned forward and unmuted the comm pickup. “Ryuk, this is General Jorus Merrill of the Kathol Outback. It’s just me and my copilot, and no cargo worth the mention.”

A long pause, very long. Eventually-

“Master Centaris has agreed to meet with you upon boarding. May the Force be with you.”

“See? Nothing to worry about.” Jorus toggled the comm again. “Acknowledged, Ryuk. Beginning approach now.”

The channel died. “I’m not sure about this, Dad.”

“Your call. I mean it.”

Mara grimaced, then shook her head. “I don’t feel any duplicity, and I don’t get the urge to bail out. I think we’re in the clear if we keep our noses clean.”

“That’s my feeling too.”

She steered the battered old transport into the Star Destroyer’s hangar and settled down in an empty sector. She cast a longing look at the arms locker, but her spear and scattergun needed to stay right here. The lightfoil would be enough, and the long coat she wore over her jumpsuit. The outfit was one of the Iron Crown survival suits, the kind that could keep you alive in vacuum but looked like daily wear. “You wearing your insurance, Dad?”

“The decompression suit? Yeah. Seriously, though, I don’t expect-”

“Yeah.” Mara sighed. “Yeah.”

She kept pace with him as, caneless, he limped down the Gypsymoth’s ramp.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Pilots eagerly traipsed from one side of the hangar to the other, inspecting and doing maintenance to the starfighters as the Gypsymoth alighted among them. No one seemed to take notice of the ship, or if they did they seemed to ignore it entirely. The landing ramp extended and lowered, and the Jedi began his descent with a young woman. Before long, a man wreathed in the stereotypical black vestments of a Dark sided Master appeared from the interior hallway. With his hood pulled back, Alkor's uncorrupted and youthful features were visible and uncharacteristically non-menacing.

He held back none of his presence on their account. Though he did not bathe in darkness and it did not consume him, it still coursed through his veins and beat in his heart. It was the same with anyone who had touched the darkness. Once they felt its lure, it remained forever within them- some more strongly than others.

Alkor learned the name of his visitor only several minutes before, when the Communications Officer relayed it back to him. "Master Merrill," he greeted, "it is good to see that you survived the... events of Sekalus." When he delivered the man to his friends, there had been some doubts on Alkor's part that the man would endure through the considerable wounds he received. To call for a strike on his own position required not only serious testicular fortitude, it also required one to readily accept the probability of death. Merrill came damn close.

The Dark Jedi would have hated to waste the time it took to drag him out if it ended any other way.

"To what do I owe this visit?" he asked. It was well known that Alkor and other Jen'jidai like him were not overly fond of Jedi or Sith, and preferred to keep to themselves. The tenuous alliance they forged with the Republic and the Silver Sanctum Coalition was more of convenience than a burning urge to play friends with the light. It was difficult for a man to have enemies on every side, so it made sense for them to throw their lot in with the lesser of two headaches. "I sincerely doubt you came out as far as Rishi to thank me."

In order to find Alkor, [member="Jorus Merrill"] would have had to dig behind some serious red tape. At least, that was as far as Alkor knew. The agreement between their groups was a quietly kept secret, and not one that the Jedi would have blabbed openly about, if only to maintain a proper public appearance. This man probably had considerable sway within one Order or another.

He gestured for them to walk with him as he turned back toward the hallway. "Come, we'll move to a place quieter than a hangar to speak."

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

Mara’s whisper flitted through the back of his mind. Strong Darksider, but hasn’t been doing this too long or his face’d show more. Heck, he doesn’t even have yellow eyes yet. I’m not sensing any malice or deception, on any level I can read. I’d say we’re in the clear for now.

“You’d be surprised how far I’d go to balance the books, Master Centaris,” said Jorus. “And Rishi’s not too far for me -- I’ve spent all kinds of time out here. But no, you’re right: there’s more on my mind than gratitude.” At Alkor’s suggestion that they take the discussion elsewhere, he nodded and followed after locking up the Gypsymoth.

He’d married one of the galaxy’s finest shipwrights, and designed a ship or two in his day, but the Ryuk was nothing he recognized. He couldn’t help manifesting a little curiosity, generally over details that a non-shipwright would find hopelessly esoteric. He kept quiet, though. Last thing he needed was to come off as unnecessarily inquisitive. Once he almost stopped to ask about an unfamiliar make logo, but Mara caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, and he limped on. The kolto was pretty fething good, comparable to the grade of bacta that the Vratix never exported from Thyferra and Verkuyl. Access was Jorus’ stock in trade. Build enough hyperlanes for enough people, and bankable favors start piling up.

“Nice ship,” he said, in lieu of half a dozen technical questions that might have gotten him spaced for espionage.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

For him to summarize everything into the words "nice ship" brought a grin to Alkor's face- the sort of winning Corellian grin that their kind was known for. "Right," he said, "that's what you wanted to say." For a moment, Alkor allowed the tension to abate. His face returned to trademarked apathy, but he did not pressure the Jedi. As they walked through the interior of the ship toward a briefing room, Alkor decided to disappoint him.

"Unfortunately, it is not my ship," he informed [member="Jorus Merrill"], "and I know as much about it as you do. Still, it has served well in the short stint I have been aboard, and I am hardly one to question utility."

His gaze flickered over the girl for a moment, then back to her father. He could feel the Force from her, moving over him from time to time. It seemed that she was wary, but that made sense. Her mind probed over his, and though Alkor lacked an affinity for telepathy, he was still a Master of the Force in his own right. She could skim his surface thoughts if it pleased her, but she would find very little there to take. Alkor seemed focused on the conversation and genuinely wished to know what brought Merrill to the Abrion Sector. Anything further, she would find behind to be masked behind a very firmly erected wall.

Alkor was not one for sharing his secrets.

"My Master was a man named C'thulu Plaga," he announced as they entered the room and he pulled two chairs out for them. "He trained me as a weapon, not an apprentice. My functions were primarily combat and assassination, not intrusive telepathy," he commented- though one would suspect that he did not do so idly. "I do not use the Dark side of the Force to empower myself, nor do I crave Sith knowledge." If he said so this quell Mara's concerns, it would be abundantly evident that he was very bad at diplomacy. "In part, that may have contributed to your continued breathing. I do not see eye to eye with the Jedi, but I have no cause to seek the death of one."

"I digress," he took a seat adjacent to them and leaned back, resting an arm on the table. "If you've come offering reciprocity, we can dispense with any formalities. This is between men, not a Jedi and Dark Jedi. What did you have in mind?"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

"I apologize for my daughter prying, but that's on me; I asked her to get a sense of your intentions. She's an empath, and a good one." Jorus and Mara took the offered seats. Not through the Force, but just through being a dad, he caught the edges of his daughter's embarrassment. Still, he doubted she'd dwell on it or become irritated. There was a reason she'd been dubbed a Master at her age, and transcendent power wasn't part of the equation. "I'm fine with getting down to the nuts and bolts. You dragged me out, and I mean to pay you back for that. I'm the best there is at instinctive astrogation. It's not everyone's mug of lum, but I'm willing to teach you some of what I know. It's the least I can do."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Other thing is, I've talked to some of the evacuees and the other folks that were on Sekalus. They say you're fething good with a sabre. Took down more than your share of Sith and troopers in that village. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not. I've tried Jedi sabre training, and pretty clearly it wasn't a good enough fit to keep me going when the clart hit the fan. Force knows I've got no right to ask you for a favor, but if you could give me a pointer or two, I'd appreciate it."

"Dad, you're in no condition-"

"My blood's half kolto right now, and the prosthetic's doing well." He glanced at Mara, who didn't strike him as especially pleased. "And you worked me over with Jedi healing and such." He clenched and unclenched his new left hand with a series of faint clicks, and looked up at Alkor. "I'm pretty much fine."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor listened intently as Jorus spoke about Astrogation, and while Alkor had no training in the skill himself, the Corellian he kept buried deep down couldn't help but be fascinated. He nodded for a moment as he considered the offer to learn, but the Jedi quickly transitioned into praising his saber work and talking about how people had watched him on Sekalus. While he thought he had kept it from the public eye well enough, apparently there had been people watching. Ah well. It wasn't like he his his proclivity for the blade.

"Pretty much fine will be sufficient," he said, "for the purpose of light learning. I won't be expecting you to fight full force before you're used to your new parts. It takes time for the prosthesis to synthesize properly with nerve endings and function the way an organic limb would." He spoke as someone with a great deal of knowledge on the matter, but in reality he knew multiple trainees at one time who were not quite at the Dark Jedi standard of learning. Pain was a driving force, after all.

And in this day and age, hands, arms, even legs were replaceable.

"I watched you struggle with the Sith Lord on Sekalus," he continued. "Your movements smack of an unpolished Niman. Some of the finest swordsmen in the galaxy have trained to Mastery of that form and turned it into an art all their own." Alkor turned and stood up, his back to both of the Jedi as he stared out into the vastness of space. "But yours is not at that degree. How long have you been practicing it?" he asked thoughtfully.

There were multiple avenues of learning for someone still in the rocky beginnings of their path, and so depending on Merrill, it could easily be deviated and altered into something far more practical and styled to suit the man's natural skillset. There were a number of possibilities that thrust to the forefront of his mind as he considered Niman- Exar Kun, for one, had incorporated Telekinetic attacks and a mix of martial arts into his own fighting style in order to create a brutally efficient and highly coveted killing style. That would not fit for a Jedi, of course.

Then, there was a less refined approach. For someone wholly unskilled in the Force- which Alkor did not assume of Jorus, but he did not know the man well- the Bounty Hunter favored combat of "lots of tools, and an answer to every question" adaptability could be more useful than the Force in many situations. On top of that, there were several lightsaber specific tricks that could be used to severe effect at crucial points in a battle.

"Open your mind to the Force," Alkor directed suddenly. "Let it flow through your thoughts, let every sensation that comes naturally prick your Force Senses." He turned his gaze back to the man and lifted his hand to brush the hair out of his face as he considered how exactly to begin teaching this particular skill without the open hostility of combat.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

"Been learning the sabre for about half a year now." His first teacher had been a childlike Anzati twice his age, after they'd reached forgotten Ahch-To on pilgrimage. His second had been Quorl, the legendary Rishii Jedi instructor, and it had been Quorl who'd taken him from absolute incompetence to something moderately acceptable. "On and off. I tend to get busy." With extragalactic jaunts, raids against the Sith, fatherhood, the liberation of the Kathol Outback...

At Alkor's instruction, Jorus nodded; he knew the drill. The Force rushed through him, and he felt-

Well, not much to do with sabre fighting. Two or three astronomical units away, a light freighter decanted from hyperspace. If this Star Destroyer jumped on its current heading, it would run into something unspecified but fatal within half a parsec. Rishi's gravity shadow and that of its moon were doing what gravity shadows did: not much.

Closer at hand, he didn't feel a thing. Maybe if Alkor did something, Jorus would feel a need to step one way or another, finding a safe course at this relatively microscopic level.

"I don't really have...Force senses, as such. Or what folks call Force powers. Instinct, sure, but that's about it."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"I am somewhat limited in my own right," he explained as Jorus admitted to being severely lacking in the Force department. "I don't get those magic tricks to alter people's thoughts, or move objects around. If it does not directly affect me, I cannot manipulate it." Whether it was a product of the specificity of his training or genetic, Alkor did not specify. "But my senses, like yours, are something special. No- I cannot sense as you do, subtleties from parsecs away. That is quite the feat," he praised. "But I do have a gift all my own."

He lifted a crystalline statuette from the table, abandoned and seemingly pointless. "They say that the Force is everywhere," he said quietly as his eyes focused on the small figure. "That it surrounds us, binds us, and penerates us, but we can't see it. Not... really."

His gaze darted from left to right, then settled on a specific point. Not on the small object itself, but in the fabric of reality itself. Alkor moved his hand slowly toward it. "But, with some practice and an expenditure of effort..." he perceived it vividly. The pulsing, infinitesimally small anomaly at which the galaxy itself coalesced. A fracture in the Force.

Alkor tapped it, ever so gently.

The statuette shivered, shuddered, then shattered to dust and flittered to the floor. "Just because you can't see something, does not mean it is beyond your ability to do so." He looked at Jorus now and lowered his hand. "Don't worry, what I'm teaching you isn't so magnificent as that. The principle is similar, however. You need to sharpen and narrow your focus. The two skills are remarkably alike. They vary only in scope."

He closed his eyes and let out a breath. To perceive a Shatterpoint was simple for Alkor, though there were many in the galaxy who struggled to do just that. To manipulate one, however, was an enormous feat for anyone. It would not do for him to show that outwardly, however. "It is more a state of mind than anything," he told the other man. "Consummate focus. Firm grasp of the minutia that surrounds you."

Alkor glanced to his own lightsaber and gripped it. "You may never fully be able to use the power with your limitations, but it affords a level of awareness that can even the playing field. Coupled with ingenuity and a lightsaber, of course."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

Much as Jorus appreciated the Shatterpoint demonstration -- he hadn't known many competent users of that technique -- the sensory instruction was nothing he hadn't tried before, alone or supervised. "I can reach that state of mind," he said, "but I feel what I feel, and it's not a lot. When to step aside, which direction's the best way to go if I want to live. That's about as much as I can sense. Trust me, I've spent an awful lot of time on this at melee ranges, even if I'm new to the sabre. Not to sound ungrateful or anything, of course. Just letting you know where I stand."

He noted Centaris' focus on the sabre, and pulled out his own, a remarkably simple weapon. For the moment, though, he left it unlit.

"In theory, like we both know, it's all of a piece, all the same instincts and power groupings. Just doesn't work that way for me, though: like the old Corellian Jedi who couldn't use telekinesis, but more so." A snort. "Now, if you were covered in hypermatter, or standing outside a ship in hyperspace, about to jump through the bubble -- well, maybe then I could feel and control more about you. But short of actively throwing my enemies into hyperspace, that's not an eventuality I can rely on."

And perhaps the less said about that, the better.

"Some more grounding I should have probably given you: I'm used to a heavier, unbalanced, two-handed weapon. A shotgun all made of metal, basically. Less reach, much more momentum, much heavier impact, much less dexterity. Adapting from that has been a real treat."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

An abstract set of Force senses, to be sure. Alkor listened intently as the man spoke and considered the difficulties he listed at length. The ability to play with hyperspace, and to see things on that scale from such a small and relatively frail body when compared to the universe were beyond rare. It sounded like the man filled a niche that no one else in the galaxy could. But it left him with a comparatively short stick with regard to other things. Jorus explained his proclivity for a heavier weapon, and how the transition to a weightless and largely formless one proved difficult.

It was essentially teaching someone without the Force to wield a lightsaber. He lacked the innate senses that a trained Adept utilized in order to prevent themselves from self-harm. Sure, the danger sense offered some help in that area, but it did not give Jorus the acute and passive recognition of where he was and what else was there at all times. To put it in terms that a Corellian could relate to:

He was flying dark.

"I see," Alkor nodded. It would be immensely more difficult to teach the lightsaber to the man, even with the relative competency he already had. That the Rishii who taught him was able to bring him up to snuff with such a weapon at all spoke volumes about the teacher's skill. Alkor had never taught a normal Padawan. Jorus was on a whole other level from that.

Was his own ability equal to the task? There was only one way to measure that, and it meant taking the risk. "There are other ways to learn, of course." Alkor took the blade from his belt and the weapon erupted to life, and bloody starlight hummed softly next to him. "You have to be acutely aware of what senses you do have. Up to this point, you probably fought more with the mindset of 'watching and reading your opponent's movements,' if memory serves." The memory Alkor spoke of involved a more tangible weapon, and no amount of the Force applied to its use. "But if this particular weapon accidentally shaves too close to your body, it means considerably more than a cut or scrape."

To better show the point he was trying to make, Alkor ran the blade upward, over the table- centimeters close and enough to cause the durasteel to sizzle in protest. Smoke wafted up from the graze and Alkor reneged the weapon before he could do any real damage. "The basest level of lightsaber mastery is knowing where the weapon is relative to yourself. Once you have that to an afterthought, that is when they teach you to direct its wrath on others. Not before. So to be able to use it without senses requires another type of awareness entirely."

Up to now, Jorus must have felt more erratic in combat with a lightsaber. Alkor could only imagine how harrowing it must have been, and how terrifying. To engage in single combat with a Lord of the Sith who knew the blades to a science, the other Corellian must have been running on blind faith and his culture's natural grit. "The blade is not wholly different from the weighted weapons you're used to," he explained, "the form is the same, if not the material. It has a limited size and moves only where you command it to go. It moves quicker due to its composition, but one can adjust to that."

Alkor breathed out his focus on the Force and focused on the world through a lesser simulacra- his own, limited and frail eyes. The sensation was blinding. It felt all at once like his heighted perception of the galaxy bled away and he was a child again. He couldn't feel all the world around him screaming out, but he sensed his own inadequacy. The boy who grew up in Coronet city, who hid in shadows and learned to cut purses, then throats in order to stay alive. The lightsaber in his hand was the only familiarity he had left.

It was unnerving.

Alkor spun the blade deftly, but there was no soundless voice in his mind to whisper where it was, or how close it came. The residual heat licked him, but the weapon never came close enough to burn. He sliced through air and thinly below his arm, which would have flayed and cauterized the flesh of someone with less skill. Alkor was immensely aware of his own mortality. Force Adepts might as well have been gods of death. He never looked back from the moment he became a student of the darkness, so this experience gave him perspective. Finesse would be difficult to teach, and harder to learn. "I believe we can get you to a higher level than the one you're on without years of training," the Dark Jedi spoke finally.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

All things considered, Mara could read her father pretty well. Zeltron empathy served as a foundation for a good chunk of her Force skillset, and her mom -- the one who'd raised her, not her birth mother -- was Lorrdian. Mara suspected that her father knew how well she could get a sense of his state of mind, but the subject hadn't come up. The illusion of privacy said a good deal about his quality, his trust in her. Force knew he could get paranoid about others getting into his head. That paranoia stemmed from seven years as a fugitive, Master of First Knowledge to a splintered order, hiding all the greatest holocrons from the most powerful and vicious empire in modern history. His head held far, far too much for his own comfort. And yet he knew she could read her, and knew she knew that he knew.

What she sensed from her father right now was a growing awareness that Centaris, too, had read him well. Oh, not in the sense of intrusive telepathy, at least not so far as Mara could detect or Jorus suspected, but Mara felt Centaris' words resonate in her father's emotions.

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Jorus, swinging his own sabre experimentally. "I assume you've got exercises I can do on my own time, after we've wrapped? And speaking of that, what's your availability? What kind of time commitment are you thinking? I'm comfortable with just about anything from day camp to boot camp -- whatever you feel is appropriate, however much time you want to sink into this. Far as the converse goes -- Mara, how long you think it'd take our friend to pick up astro?"

"He's a Master, for starters," she said, switching her focus from her father to the question at hand. "But it depends what aspect of instinctive astrogation you're talking about, Dad." She turned to Centaris. "Sounds like you have a solid internal focus, good instincts. Probably wouldn't take much to get you to the point where you could fine-tune a jump's angle freehand, just going by your gut. If you've got a head for math, there's that whole side of instinctive astrogation -- the kind that's about approximating hyperspace equations with just your Force-enhanced brain. Smoothing hyperspace tangles, actually crafting routes through grav shadow interactions, the kind of thing you need for the Maw or the Deep Core...not sure you'll ever be able to get there. That said, if I'm understanding shatterpoint theory right, there might be ways to apply what you do to what we do. Maybe a couple days for basic competency in the gut side of things. All depends, though, on what Dad asked -- what kind of time commitment you're thinking, for both astro and the bladework."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Everything you're going to learn will require a great deal of repetition to fully utilize in combat," Alkor replied, "which is true of anything, but in this case it is much more serious. You have had enough Jedi training to understand that a lightsaber requires a massive degree of spatial awareness. Without the Force, doing that in the back of your head is almost impossible. It sounds like you have some gist of the principle in your hyperspace dealings, so it might come more easily to you because of that- but without specialized senses, you're still going to need to hone the reflexes."

Alkor gestured toward [member="Jorus Merrill"] with an open palm. "So yes, it will demand strict adherence to a set of exercises in order to properly learn."

When Mara started to explain the mathematical aspects of astrogation, Alkor felt his head tilt slightly in concern. The angles and jumps seemed like they might come naturally to a pilot of any skill, but there was probably more than the surface level of piloting to consider when you were thinking about hyperspace travel. It never really occurred to Alkor that there might be more than "input coordinates" and "jump," because that was all he ever really did. Since he was a boy in Coronet, he did all he could to get under the canopy of a starfighter. Eventually it shifted from obsession to hobby, but he could never profess skill on the level of what Merrill was explaining to him.

"You seem like a busy man," Alkor answered finally, "I can commit to several times a week, but the both of us may have things occupying our time too often to make it a daily activity. As much as I love starfighters and lightsabers, I don't think that it would be realistic."

He paused and held his chin as his gaze skimmed the ceiling. "I am more than willing to hear your opinion on the matter, of course," he added.