Sor-Jan Xantha
Got Soup?
Continued from We Were Soldiers Once, and Clones and Well, I Got Friends in Lothal Places...
Either their efforts at cleaning the old freighter were successful, or else they'd just gotten used to the stench.
At least the hyperdrive was still operational. As much as the Corellian in him wanted to take pride in the fact that this was product of the CEC, the pragmatist in him would have had to admit that Corellian ships were known for many things. Reliability not being one of them.
They'd made a jump from Lothal to Garel, running the YT-2400 through something of an impromptu shakedown cruise. While the young Jedi hadn't sensed any malice from the Pau'un back at the Sabaac table in Ake's Tavern, the fact of the matter was that he was flying an unknown ship into an unknown situation.
Just 72 hours earlier, General Sor-Jan Xantha had been attacked by his own clone troopers aboard the Star Destroyer Sentinel -- his ship in the Open Circle Fleet, under High General Kenobi. In the intervening hours, he'd learned that the Jedi Council had demanded that the Supreme Chancellor relinquish his emergency powers, that the Jedi Order had been declared traitors to the Republic, and that Chancellor Palpatine had dissolved the Old Republic into a Galactic Empire.
Suffice to say, this hadn't been a good week for him.
He'd gambled with a damaged hyperdrive and made a blind jump to try and save those few who had come to his aid in rebellion against the machine-like clone army. They'd been eight when they'd made the escape from the Sentinel. They'd lost six in the crash on Lothal. Now all that remained was a lone knight and clone, a juvenile trooper who'd been on the ship as part of a training and familiarization exercise.
And the droid. A 2-1B medical unit, whose services might not have been enough. But they had been needed. And, at the rate they were going, would doubtless be only too valuable in the days ahead.
The sound of the navi-computer alarm echoed through the interior of the ship. Rearing his head up, the small Jedi peeked out from the maintenance crawlspace where he'd lost track of time trying to understand the wiring that the previous owner had snaked through the ship. It bypassed all the logical components and seemed to double-back on itself in several confounding redundancies that baffled the Anzati child for the fact that the ship worked at all.
Perhaps he shouldn't go looking for more problems however.
Pushing himself back up onto the main deck, the tow-headed boy stole a glimpse over at where the young clone of Jango Fett was current napping on the lounge sofa. They'd probably be landed before the youngling woke, clone trooper or not.
Making his way into the cockpit, the diminutive youth silenced the chime as he settled back into the pilot's seat. As a Jedi, Sor-Jan had often used ships for transport. Shuttles. Consular-class cruisers. But he'd never had one that he owned in any sense. As his hand reached for the hyperdrive controls, he found there was some nagging familiarity that was appealing about the idea of ownership. Such materialism was counter to how a Jedi ought to view themselves of course...
...but appealing, all the same.
Not nearly as appealing as the thought of finding a replacement crystal for Paperweight. Even while the weight of the lightsaber was unchanged, hanging as ever from his belt, the boy knew that something was wrong. Something was missing. The Ilum crystal which had served as the heart of his lightsaber for more than thirty years had been shattered. By what, he didn't know. The crash perhaps, but Paperweight had stood up against worse than that through the years.
With the Empire potentially bearing down on them -- if not now, then merely a matter of time -- it wouldn't do to head into a fight without a lightsaber at his side. They'd jumped to the Adega System in order to find an Adegan crystal, repair Paperweight, and then figure things out from there.
Ossus being a dead world, there was very little risk of the Empire looking for anyone here. As the boy rocked the hyperdrive controls forward and the mottled subspace shifted into the familiar stream of stars, the boy thought, it'll be nice to not have any surprises for once.
Then the stars snapped back into normal space.
...revealing a sky full of ships.
"Kark..."
As the Corellian's mouth fell open, the boy's eyes widened in shock and awe. Star destroyers. Bulk cruisers. All manner of ships, large and small buzzing around the planet.
A green planet. A living planet. Where ever was, it was the furthest thing possible from Ossus.
Frell. Frell karking fething kriff... The navi-computer must have glitched, and they just jumped to Ord Mantell. Or Onderon.
Whatever it was, it was the Imperial capital of GETTHEKARKOUT!
"....me," the boy concluded, as he finally snapped out of the shock and lunged forward so that he was standing over the controls. Turning his head back slightly, the young Jedi bellowed, "THREE!"
He hoped clones were light sleepers.
"Get into one of the turrets, we might have some company," he yelled back to the other boy, reaching across the co-pilot's console to divert power from the hyperdrive to the ray shield generators. Sinking back into the pilot's seat, the boy reached forward and forced himself to take a calming breath as he gripped the controls.
They were just a freighter. Nothing more. The Empire wouldn't be looking for a freighter. There was probably nothing to worry about. They'd cruise on, go about their business, and then jump out of this...
"This is the Republic warship Defender. Corellian freighter in grid nine-alpha, identify yourself."
What a lousy time to pick to start a conversation...
Odd fact, Sor-Jan hadn't actually looked for where the commlink was on this ship. The silence probably didn't make the best of impressions, as the small Anzat rooted around through the cockpit before he finally fished out a headset and found where to plug it into.
"Corellian freighter in grid nine-alpha, you have entered Republic space. Identify yourself. Do you copy?"
Republic space? Someone must not have gotten the memo on Palpatine's re-branding. "Uh... This is the, uh... Alderaan Queen out of Lothal," the boy answered, adjusting the headset -- which was made to fit a larger cranium -- as best he could. "We've, uh... had a slight navi-computer malfunction."
There was silence on the link for a moment then, as the boy slid over to call up the navi-computer. They should have picked up an astromech and run diagnostics on the thing before they'd blasted out of Lothal. But there hadn't been any problem to Garel...
"We will escort you to landing pad twenty-one."
The voice on the link returned, as the boy's head turned as he spied faint points of light emerging from out of the void of space. Slowly, they grew larger, until the outline and shape of starfighters were clearly visible against the backdrop of stars.
...except, Sor-Jan had never seen starfighters of this type before.
He'd served the Jedi Order, the Judicial Forces, and the Grand Army of the Republic. He was far from an expert on military hardware, but quite confident in the thought and belief that those were not ships used by the Republic. Or Empire. Or whatever it was now.
As his eyes wandered, he looked at the capital ships on the stellar horizon. They were similarly unfamiliar to him. Some of the markings were somewhat like what he would recognize, but the form... the outline... it was alien to him.
Where were they?
"You will not deviate from the indicated flight path."
As the starfighter escorts came into position, the young Anzat thought for a moment about making a run. Jumping out. But, already, they were a little too far down the rabbit hole for him not to see where it would end. Plying his hands obediently to the controls, he guided the ship in with the escorts. As they broke through the canopy of cloud cover, the child Jedi found himself looking down over a verdant green world.
It was beautiful.
...and frightening. As the ridges and contours of the planet became visible, Sor-Jan found the landmarks familiar. A foreboding sense of both awe and dread built inside of him, as he hesitated to look now toward the horizon.
If he was right, they would be approaching the ruins of the Jedi Temple.
...if this was Ossus.
Which it wasn't, because Ossus was a dead world.
Finally, the boy turned his head up. Blue eyes flickered to gaze at the horizon. And he saw it. He had seen it before. Many times. Even led an expedition to make recommendations as to whether any restoration was in order, or even feasible given the state of the ruins. And the toxic environment. Except, what he saw before him now wasn't in ruins.
It was glorious.
He had long tried to imagine what the Jedi Temple on Ossus might have looked like. He was looking at it now, utterly devoid of words and completely assured of his own slip into madness.
He had to be crazy, that was the only solution.
Whether madness or meditation, or just being Corellian, the small Anzat managed to land the small freighter on the indicated pad. He lowered the hatch and charged down the loading ramp just a few moments later.
And he fell to his knees, with tears streaming down his face.
This was Ossus.
This was the Jedi Temple on Ossus.
Not in ruins, not the shell of what survived total devastation, not the remainder of a dead world.
This was as though history had come alive.
There were people approaching the unknown freighter that had just landed without warning, but Sor-Jan was oblivious to their approach. Staring up at the sky, the temple, and the trees... it was overwhelming for him.
[member="Mak Manto"] [member="Tyl Ro"]
