Hearts of Fire

[Alkor Centaris]

This is a story about a man who lived and died a servant.
Durell, son of Eithas, Jedi Knight​

18 years ago...

Gyndine, Galactic Republic holdings

Dark clouds hung over the battlefield as Republic soldiers trekked through muddy trenches. Commander Kefka of the four hundred and twelfth stood with his macrobinoculars in hand, gaze set on the horizon. The insurrection had began quickly and without warning, but the local defense groups were able to act quickly enough to prevent the spread of disgruntled workers to nearby towns and cities.

The chaos was localized, and the assumed reason dire. Dissatisfaction with new regulations on interspace travel into and out of the Gyndine system had risen to an all time high. With their shipyards almost as prominent as those on Corellia, it placed a burden on working families that had quickly spiraled out of hand. The Jedi Order had sent a mediator, but Kefka had already lost ten men in a shootout.

"What's the situation," the Knight asked breathlessly as he burst through the doors, drenched with rainwater. It was not an easy task to get out to the front line, even for a Jedi. There were protocols to follow, safety measures-

"Ten dead," the commander said curtly. "Every one of them an unnecessary casualty. I have to write letters to their families, Jedi-"

Durell held out his hand, palm up. "I understand, Commander Kefka," he uttered softly. "The lives of your men are as important to me as they are you. No loss of life is an acceptable one."

"Don't give me that idealistic bullchit," the dark haired commando snarled. "Just tell me what the plan is, and how you're going to ensure I don't lose any more men."

"Plan?" Durell looked genuinely confused. "Have you tried talking to these people? Do you think they're unwilling to see reason? Is there any possibility that this can be resolved without further conflict-"

"They pissed on peace with me when they shot my soldiers," Kefka spat. "You want to talk to them, be my guest- but you have ten minutes before I start shelling the bastards. Use them wisely."

"Peace is something we must work toward, together," the Jedi reminded the soldier. "Do not be so quick to cast it aside."

Kefka waved the Jedi away dismissively.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Quickly, unbolt the door!" panicked yelling from behind the walls of the abandoned shipyard caught his attention as Durell rapped against them. "They've sent an envoy! They're going to listen instead of shooting at us!"

Another excited voice added, "it's a Jedi!"

The doors practically swung open in glee as the young girl rushed out to hug his leg. "Momma look! They sent a Jedi! We're safe!"

Durell placed a comforting hand on the child's head and he looked through the amassed crowd quickly. "Where is the leader of your movement?" he asked. "I have authorization from the Republic's bureau of commerce to reassess the troublesome laws with you, pending your complete cooperation."

"Heavens be praised, they took us seriously," an older man fell to his knees and bowed his head. Durell looked around again, but no one stepped forward.

"Where is he?" the Jedi asked, his voice quiet.

"He was wounded in a firefighter," another man explained. "You'll have to come to him. It's right this way-"

Durell glanced back over his shoulder toward the garrison, and he could sense the tension building over a hundred yards away. Danger broiled in the Force, and every second that passed was another lost. Commander Kefka was a man of his word.

"Master Jedi," and old man greeted, "please, it isn't much, but this is all I have to give you as thanks..." he held out a small brown pouch, but Durell pushed it back to him with a smile.

"You owe me nothing, sir," the Jedi said. "I appreciate your kindness."

The ceiling rattled, and the ground shook. Both men stumbled, and the older man fumbled the pouch and dropped it to the ground. "Damn that Kefka," Durell hissed.

Bombardment had already begun.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The structure floundered under the first few shots, and dust sifted free from the ceiling. Durell hurried behind the elderly man who emanated sounds of distress. "They sent a Jedi," the man squeaked, "but the Republic is still shooting at us. Has the world gone mad?"

"I told him I had this situation under control," the Jedi called back above the madness, "I have no idea what's going on, but try to remain calm. We have to figure this out. We can put an end to this if we work together."

They rounded another corner, and a bedridden man stared back at them. Durell immediately saw gaping wounds from bullet holes with woefully inadequate medical attention. His breathing was at a mismatch for someone on his situation, and by all rights, he should not have been conscious. Durell identified the effects of a military grade diazepam instantly.

"This man is heavily drugged," the Jedi protested.

"This man would be dead if he were sober," the sickly gunshot victim smirked. "We never had the means to treat the sick or wounded. This wasn't supposed to turn into a full blown war. The Republic just doesn't like when people have different ideas from their own."

"That Republic," Durell whispered, "sent me to hear the message for you."

The man held the Jedi in a steady gaze, smiled, and took his hand. "No more needless death," Durell added. "We can work together."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"First, we want the restrictions on trade outside the Expansion Region lifted," the man stated as Durell took a seat opposite him. "We thrived on far-reaching business deals, especially with larger systems who lacked for their own shipyards. Our prices were better and we could manufacture more quickly than most of the larger firms. This idea of consolidating power inward strengthens the Republic Warmachine, but it limits and weakens our economy."

The Jedi listened patiently, even as loud bursts of gunpowder outside broke against the foundation of the building. He had no mind for politics, but he had been sent due to the extreme need for a peaceful solution. Arden was good at ensuring no lives were lost. "Sir, I'm no diplomat," he explained, "but if you outline your terms for me, I can get them down and make sure the person who will be signing off on it does so. We need to hurry, as the situation has become a bit more volatile."

"Restrictions on wages that have been imposed federally need to be lifted as well." The man's voice croaked every word, as if even breathing pained him. Durell bit his tongue respectfully, as he did not wish to cut the man off. "All of the new, sweeping movements into industry have forced people out of jobs and into poverty."

"You're asking them to repeal an entire series of bills?" Durell raised an eyebrow. He knew very little about politics, but the substance of laws and how they were passed were within the realm of his understanding. "Sir, that could take months, even years to push through, especially with the strong majority that passed them to begin with-"

"People who have no interest in what actually happens to the ones they rule." He matched the Jedi's gaze evenly. "If this politician of yours is true to his word, he will fight that fight for us regardless of how long it takes. If not, then this movement will take all the necessary measures to ensure the well-being of our own. That is our stance, Jedi Arden."

Durell began to speak, but the scream of a rocket drowned his voice.

And his world became fire.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Smoke rose from the broken, battered building. Flames charred rebar and blackened duracrete, and ash swirled skyward as Durell pushed the fragmented ceiling off of his back. "No," he murmured, though he could not hear his own words. Shellshock from the blast had deafened him temporarily. "No!"

With inhuman vigor, he rushed to peel the concrete slab off the sundered bed, and succeeded only in causing it to slide to one side. A blue beam of light peeled from his hip as he drove his lightsaber into the frame and sheared it in two. Durell forced the two sides apart, only to confirm his worst fears.

The lifeless eyes of a determined man stared off into space. His body had been crushed beneath the roof. Trauma almost certainly took his life instantly. Durell bowed his head. "There is no death," he rasped as tears streamed down his cheeks. "There is the Force."

He choked on the words as the sound of gunfire blared in his eardrums. They were still fighting. "No more," he murmured as he found his feet and waded through the devastation toward the Republic troopers. A hail of blaster bolts screeched past him, and he watched the little girl who had hugged his leg not ten minutes past cry over the corpse of her fallen father.

The old man who had thanked him for his efforts was gunned down without an eye batted.

Durell moved swiftly, with quickness he beaten body had no business having. The lightsaber was in his hand, and he sent bolts blazing away from the defenseless insurrectionists, who now numbered less than five. "Stand down, Commander Kefka," he called out loudly. " You've killed their leader and thinned their numbers. You've no reason to continue this slaughter."

"My men are dead, Jedi," Kefka barked back. "Now get out of my way. I'll honor their memory the only way I know how."

"Do you think this will bring them back?" Durell asked sadly. "What do you hope to achieve?"

The Commander trained his blaster on the Jedi. "Don't stand in my way."

Durell felt a tugging at his pants leg, and the little girl stared up at him. There was sadness there, and fear, but he also felt hope when he looked in her eyes. Durell knelt down, scooped her up in his arm, and looked to Kefka. He had no words for the man.

"You should never have gotten in my way, Knight Arden," the Commander said in a low voice. "Fire now. Kill the Jedi."

A murmur rippled through the men, and they exchanged glances. In turn, all eyes fell on Kefka. "Sir, he's one man," one of them said. "And he's protecting a child. I can't obey that order."

"If you don't put that Jedi down-"

"Sir, he's leaving," another soldier added. They watched as the weakened and wounded Jedi limped away, out of their line of fire, with only a small girl draped over his shoulder. "We're finished here. Everyone is dead."

Kefka watched in silence as Durell slipped into the shadows.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Epilogue​

To my son, Thom,

My wish in this galaxy has always been to keep safe the goodness in people's hearts. I became a Jedi to protect not the Republic, but all men wherever they might be. I don't intend for you to think I was a good father, nor will I make excuses for not being there. I just want for you to understand.

A Jedi's life is not his own. From the moment he takes his vows as a Padawan Learner, he forfeits everything in service. For the good of the people, and to protect them, he gives up all of his personal belongings and attachments, and he becomes a tool of the Order. A Jedi's life is sacrifice.

This does not mean we do not feel, or think. On the contrary, a Jedi Knight is one who has compassion, yet tempers it with understanding and control. On the night when I met your friend Ana, her father was killed in a dispute between the Republic and a group of disillusioned shipwrights who just wanted their old way of life back. Times change. People adapt. I watched those Troops slaughter her friends and family without mercy, but I was only able to save her life.

Ana's grandfather left behind a small pouch, the contents of which I intended to help pay for her to go through school and feed and clothe her for many years to come. As you recall, however, Ana went into the system and was given a new home, and I lost track of her not long after that. The reason I tell you this is because the weapon I leave to you now, this lightsaber, is powered by the gem in that bag. It burns with a light that I hope will also burn brightly in your chest one day, my son.

The Heart of the Guardian.

You may never be a Jedi, or even believe the stories we told you as a child, but it is my sincere hope that you will grow into a kind, gentle, caring soul, and that you will use this power to protect those who need protection. Thom Durell Arden, I give you this warning, and this advice:

There will come a day when you must choose between having power and helping others.

The lure of strength is intoxicating. You will crave it in your bones, and it will call longingly for your heart. You must remember that such things are not your own. You call on them in times of need, and the Force responds. Learn to trust in the Force.

Through the hardest times, it will not lead you wrong.

With love,
Your Father.