My Enemy, My Self

[Laira Darkhold]

The Solace of Conviction was nothing like the Temple Sector of the Solemn Purpose, its corridors cramped and utilitarian, lacking ornamentation. There were no high arching mezzanines or sanguine gardens, no statues reclaimed from the ruins of ancient Jedi Temples, and no palatial libraries for the Remnant to study. The RNS Solace of Conviction was a military vessel, one of the EF91 Nebulon-D Carriers given to the Jedi Remnant to act as their satellite temple in the Wild Space region, bare of ornamentation.

The redhead sauntered quietly down the corridors from the docking clamp that was no holding her new ship, once again dubbed the Rebel Outcast, an older looking freighter from Corellia. As she walked, Laira passed by Resistance technicians repairing wiring and power cables currently exposed from the walls of the corridor, sparks showering them as they worked. Always under repairs, it seemed that was the state of most of the Resistance Fleet no matter how many times it had already been fixed or how new the vessel was.

Laira had been assigned to the Solace of Conviction and by extension the Wild Space Jedi Forces when she had officially joined the Jedi Remnant following the battles she had faced on Tephrike. They had left her emotionally and mentally scarred, now struggling with a hidden Darkness deep within the pit of her stomach that she concealed to all but her closest friends, though it seemed that darkness may have lost her at least one of those. During her time on the frontier planet, the redheaded ranger had fought a Jedi Knight, Keth Hammer, who had almost killed her. She had considered him an enemy and had displaced her own feelings of hatred and anger onto him during their battle. His people had caused her and her friends so much pain, and his rulers were clearly evil, contorting the world to their purposes. Even shaping the people to their designs for decades. But even in the darkest pits, there was light. When Keth Hammer had died at her hands, the Force called out to him and reclaimed his body, dissipating it into nothingness before her eyes.

It had been that miracle that convinced the redhead she was evil. She put on a good face, even a coquettish aura, for everyone but that only concealed the bloodlust and murderous instinct deep within her mind. It was something she had been unaware of, but afterwards she felt a terrifying emptiness in her chest, almost a hunger that made her heart sink. Laira needed help, and she had turned to the Jedi Remnant in her time of need, even resigned her official commission to the Resistance alongside her friend Leo so that she could recuperate. What concerned her the most was that Laira Organa was destined to rule one day, over a peaceful, kind, people that trusted her family. She needed to conquer this within her if she was going to survive, certainly if she ever wanted to return to her homeworld a champion rather than a criminal.

The doors slid open revealing the bare Council Chambers, a single light in the top of the domed aperture shining down upon three empty chairs resembling those of a Jedi Temple if they had lacked any aesthetically pleasing features. A droid addressed her as she took a step across the threshold, its voice grating and monotonous, unpleasant to the ears. “Greetings, Padawan Darkhold. Temple Master B’rahk has instructed you to wait here until he is ready for you.”

“Thank you. Is there somewhere I can sit?” She asked with a smile at the droid.

“No.” The droid responded, then returned to its position by the door, standing in silence. It seemed to be an ancient model protocol droid, already returning to standby mode. Laira pursed her lips and stood around the room, waiting for what seemed like far too long for the Jedi Master to have summoned her so urgently before the door opened once more. A large whiphid with greying brown fur entered the chamber, wearing the traditional Jedi attire of light tan colored tunic and trousers with dark leather belt and boots, brown hooded cloak worn over his clothing. At his waist hung a Lightsaber and a Shoto, hanging from the other a simple looking pistol.

“Padawan Darkhold I presume.” He said in a gruff voice, almost disinterested in the young girl.

“Yes Sir. You summoned me?” Laira responded, smiling broadly and holding out her hand to the giant alien.

The whiphid eyed her, stepping around her to the center chair, casting his cloak upon it before turning to face her. By this time Laira had gotten the hint that he wouldn’t be shaking her hand. “You aren’t used to Jedi traditions I take it?”

“No, but I would like to learn.”

“Then address me as Master, not sir.” His monstrous hands slipped onto the back of the chair, resting upon it as he leaned, the sounds of his spine cracking resonated through the chamber as he stretched. His eyes looked at her, expectantly as he finished.

“Oh, uh, Yes Master.” Laira grinned sheepishly, moving to stand in the center of the room in front of the whiphid Jedi Master.

“What kind of training do you have?”

“I’ve been trained in the use of the Force, survival, combat, and piloting. Not to brag too much, but I made Ace with the Resistance pilots before I joined the Remnant.”

“What discipline of Force training did you study?”

“Oh, uh I guess just training with how to use it. I’ve studied under a Jedi a few times, [member="Phylis Alince"] and [member="Joza Perl"] , but never any formal discipline I suppose.” She responded, it was already starting to feel like an interview rather than meeting her new commanding officer.

The whiphid groaned as he straightened once more and walked around the chair. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about redeeming you.” Laira glanced away from his gaze for an instant, causing the Jedi to arch an eyebrow at the redhead. “Or do we, Padawan Darkhold.”

“Well, no. I’m not a Dark Jedi or anything, I just,” She paused, her eyes turning to the floor and her posture becoming much less confident. Now she was ashamed once more, Laira didn’t like admitting she had faults and she didn’t like talking about her issues, certainly not with a stranger.

His voice rumbled through the room once more, “Out with it.”

“I don’t know, I just got this feeling when I killed someone. The first person was a bad person, but I just lost control and killed him. The second was a Jedi from a planet called Tephrike, they had a false Jedi government that ruled over part of the planet.” The redhead tried to meet the whiphid’s steel-like gaze but found she was floundering. He had seemed to simple a moment ago, but now she could feel his presence surrounding her, piercing her soul. To meet his eyes was uncomfortable, uneasy. “When I fought him, I let my instincts take over and when I killed him, he returned to the Force and I just had this feeling.”

His lip curled up away from his tusks for a moment. “And this feeling, how would you describe it?”

“Uh… I guess I would say emptiness, like I was hungry or something. Like some kind of bloodlust.” His eyes narrowed at the redhead.

“Hmmm…” He mused, slumping down into his chair as though exhausted. “Very well Padawan Darkhold. Find a dorm, unpack your things. You’ll be staying until I say so.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira was excused from the chamber and left to unpack her things into a dormitory within the front spire of the Temple ship. Luckily the ship wasn’t cramped, and so there was plenty of space and empty rooms for her to stay while she was on what felt like lockdown. Master B’rahk hadn’t said she was under house arrest, he hadn’t taken access to her freighter, but he had made it clear she wasn’t currently welcome to come and go at her own discretion. She felt as though she might should have kept her affliction concealed given his reaction.

That might have defeated the purpose of wanting to become a Jedi, just deciding to be one and calling yourself one didn’t automatically cure oneself of issues and pains. Historically many Jedi struggled much more than the average person did, and Laira expected that all the legendary Jedi Knights of old had been forced to face their inner demons in some manner. It had been their will and their training that helped them through those trying times in their lives, and if B’rahk had risen to the rank of Jedi Master it was likely because he had overcome similar issues and taught others how to as well. He seemed stern to the redhead, but every other Jedi she had encountered had a warm gooey center, likely only hidden because of his alien appearance.

She went about unpacking her clothes, placing them into drawers and checking her gear, stashing it away in the locker on her side of the room. With all the empty space she supposed she would be alone most of the time. She had sent a message to Leo to inform him that she would be staying for a while and that he could either make himself comfortable on the Rebel Outcast, come stay with her, or anything else until she sent for him. Thus far he hadn’t decided what to do, but was otherwise amicable to spending some time on his own while she trained under the Jedi Master. The doors open and a Droid stepped into the room, “Padawan Darkhold. You have been summoned to the sparring cages. Please wear appropriate attire and bring no weapons.”

“Alright,” She sighed, glancing down at the bodysuit and trousers she was already wearing. Good enough for her consideration. She unsnapped the belt and holster from her leg, dropping them unto her bunk before turning to follow the droid through the ship. The prow of the vessel held most of the dormitories and chambers, arranged in a tower beneath the bridge. The droid took her down several levels and then brought her to a series of cages with mesh linings that had to be opened to allow beings to enter. The cages were supposedly strong enough to resist being hit with debris from thrown droids, but could still be seen through by those wishing to observe. The droid took her to a far back cage which had been obscured by a privacy screen and a sound dampening field.

Inside waited Master B’rahk who was now wearing a short sleeve version of his tunic, but was otherwise unchanged. The short sleeves revealed a multitude of scars and marks upon the flesh of his arms, all in various stages of fading. Upon closer inspection, his face bore a few as well, hidden beneath his long fur for the most part. He was holding his own Lightsaber and another in the opposite hand. “Padawan Darkhold. Today’s lesson will be simple.”

Laira ducked into the cage and grinned, “Oh, I suppose you want to see how well I fight.”

“Lock.” He said, and the magnetic locks around the cage activated. “No, today I’ll be beating the darkness out of you or kill you in the attempt.”

Laira blinked, but before she could ask any further questions, one of the lightsaber he had been holding was launched at her chest, giving her barely enough time to catch it before the whiphid had activated his own blade and hurled himself in her direction.

The redhead ducked his blade, hearing it whip over her head. The smell of burning hair filled her nostrils and a portion of her deep scarlet mane lay on the floor of the cage when she was able to turn back to face the alien Jedi. “Very funny,” She started, but the Whiphid did not relent. He was much faster than he appeared to be, his hulking frame darting around the cage and approaching her directly. His Lightsaber slashed in a downward arc, aimed to sweep across her chest from collarbone to the opposite side of her hip.

She gathered nothing from his presence about his intentions, nothing that could tell him he was anything but iron resolve and steel nerves. Her lightsaber snapped on, blocking his azure blade with a crimson one. Her grey eyes shone against the blue and red sabers. Why had he picked a red blade for her? His arms tensed and his blade shoved downward under the impressive strength of the whiphid Jedi, his face expressionless.

Laira had to make a decision on how she was going to escape the cage without killing the Jedi. Surely he had planned for her to attempt a quick escape, but she could be a lot faster than he could. Already she was able to keep up with him without using the Force to enhance her own reactions and speed. Surging the Force through her muscles she rolled under his blade, slipping behind him, jumping as came full circle to leap over the low angled slash he followed up with. Her leap landed her next to the edge of the cage, and she dragged the crimson blade across the mesh, sparking against the mesh but it did not melt. It was hot to the touch, but unmelted. A Training saber? Maybe beskar mesh?

It didn’t matter for now, the whiphid remained on the offensive, taking up a wide stance that allowed him to cover more of the cage in fewer steps. His blade sweeped from above once more, rolling immediately into a second downward sweep, crashing against Laira’s guard as she darted to his left. B’rahk pivoted backwards, lashing out with a kick to her legs for her to jump over. Unless he was really good at holding back and not showing it, his movements all seemed all too real for the redhead.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The Whiphid Jedi master continued his assault, remaining on the offensive while Laira simply dodged, blocked, or avoid him testing the mesh of the cage as she could in an attempt to escape the onslaught.

His bright blue saber crashed against her high guard, and as she once again began to dart left his colossal frame intercepted her. Laira was quick, but not fast enough to redirect her momentum away from slamming into his fur covered chest. She decided to use it, and hammer him with a burst of Force energy directed into his stomach by surging speed into her elbow. The energy reverberated through the Whiphid, driving him back a step and a gasp from his throat as his off hand came across her face in retaliation.

His massive mitt like hand smashed into her head, driving her to one knee even as he was driven backwards. She could taste blood, even feel one of her teeth loosened from the blow, which had been little more than a swipe at her, not a full force punch. He was clearly not holding back, and B’rahk had arranged for her to be trapped in this cage with no chance of rescue from the outside.

Laira didn’t have time to regain her footing, just rolling backwards away from his slashing saber letting it leave scoring marks in the bottom of the cage. B’rahk pressed his advantage, sweeping his saber at hip level. This time Laira disengaged her saber and rolled forward, coming up at his waist, under his guard in a crouch, holding the saber out in front of her. “STOP!” she shouted and for a second the universe seemed to freeze.

B’rahk slowly seemed to relax, then he surged his arm to grab her wrists, yanking the igniting saber to the side to graze his left side. Searing flesh emanated from his wound, a deep burn mark along his left side from where she had been able to activate the blade before he got control over her arms. Still holding her arms, he brought his knee into her gut hard, driving air from her mouth and causing her to spit up blood from her mouth. His lightsaber hilt drove into her back, forcing her swiftly to the ground, sprawled upon the floor. “Not bad actually. Sloppy, but not a bad move. I should have taken you more seriously.” His voice echoed in her head, but all Laira could do was try to gasp in air as his knee pressed into her back.

“A Jedi never kills an unarmed opponent. Can you believe that was in the Code once? Foolishness disguised as honor. What if your enemy disarms themselves to avoid being slain by an obviously superior opponent in order to buy time for their allies? What if your enemy is only feigning being unarmed and possesses a hidden weapon? What if your strike removes their hands holding the weapon but doesn’t leave them incapacitated and unable to harm you or your allies?” He continued, dragging the blade of his saber along the floor, carving a deep mark into the cage. “These are all possibilities such foolishness fails to realize. Never kill a helpless opponent without due cause is what it means. There is a grave difference between helpless and unarmed my dear. You are armed, but you are completely helpless.”

Laira was practically crying trying to breath, her body shivering and ribs cracking under the weight of the whiphid. She wanted free, scrambling to escape his grasp to no avail. “Well, it seems I was unsuccessful. I am sorry, I had hopes for you.” His saber raised from the floor and his body tensed. She could hear the blade above her, aiming down to her back. Laira pressed all her power and will into a single point above the Whiphid, focusing all that she was on that single point. The blade drove downward.

The redhead gasped, suddenly disappearing and reappearing above the Whiphid falling with blade held in her hands. Neither of them had much time to react to the sudden change, the whiphid admittedly surprised and Laira herself wasn’t sure her plan was going to work, but now she was free, albeit her lunch was in the back of her throat and now she had a terrible migraine blurring her vision. Her saber came down as B’rahk rolled to the side to bring his saber back up between them. Her lightsaber burned into his arm, searing fur and flesh as he rolled, jerking it back from the blade and rolling his wrist to deflect the redhead’s blade before it could reconnect and remove his arm above the elbow. He was taken aback by the blow, now on his back beneath the redhead standing above him. She flipped her blade to arc above her head and drive downward below his guard.

B’rahk’s offhand came up, catching the blade in his palm. The point of the blade should have drove through his hand and into his chest where his heart should have been, but instead it burned his palm but did not pass through. His face remained stern, but pain now coursed through his features, effort even.

Laira looked on astonished. She had heard about Jedi being able to block lightsabers with their bare skin through the use of Tutaminis but had never seen the technique in action before. Now it was her undoing, but it was surprising nonetheless. The Whip reversed his grip and slashed his lightsaber at the redhead’s torso.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira closed her eyes hard, not wanting to see it coming. Her arm began burning and she expected darkness to follow, but it did not. Her arm simply burned like it was set on fire. She pulled away, dropping her saber as she did to clutch the wound. Beneath her the whiphid rose to his feet as she looked at him with suspicion and shock. B’rahk deactivated his blade and dusted himself off, snatching the saber she had been using off the ground.

Laira clutched her arm, the burn mark having cooked some of her flesh and charred the skin. His side and palm looked the same as far as she could tell. So it was training sabers after all, turned way up for training sabers but not enough to kill or maim, maybe enough to kill if in the right place but he’d avoided her head pretty well for the flurry of combat. Perhaps he was just willing to accept it if she accidentally died, the redhead girl wasn’t sure anymore.

“I apologize for the treachery, but it was necessary that I see what you felt.” He began, brushing self off. “I could have asked a dozen questions and maybe understood what you meant, or I could try to make you experience it and see for certain what it was you feel.”

“So you beat me?”

“You needed to think I would kill you. I was worried you wouldn’t get out of my grasp and my ruse would be revealed, and very surprised at how you managed it. How do you feel?”

“Like my arm is about to fall off!” Laira spat, angry with the Jedi, “Like I’m about to throw up and my head is killing me. I think I lost a tooth, too.” Her tongue gingerly pressed against one of her molars which was loose to touch, sending pain into her gums when she did so.

“Well, go to the infirmary and have them treat you. We have no bacta to waste treating training injuries, so once they’ve bandaged you up meet me in my office.” He said without bothering to check on her himself. “Unlock.” With that he left the training chamber, leaving Laira all alone once more. The redhead picked herself up, tears streaming from her face from pain and remorse, and made her way to the infirmary of the ship. There they bandaged her arm with a simple salve, gave her some pain meds, and one of the doctors set her tooth. They said that she’d be all good to go in a few days and to return if she had anymore issues, then sent her own her way.

Laira entered the office, watching the Whiphid being tended by a young Sephi Healer in Jedi robes, he winced as the healer touched his waist. “You are too rough. You should have turned the blades down lower for practice.”

Laira almost cursed at him, anger seething through her veins. “Yeah, he should have. He also shouldn’t have punched me in the face or cracked my ribs.” The healer looked at her with yellow cat-like eyes, concern crossing her otherwise shy features, leaving the Whiphid to check on Laira.

“Let me take a look at you first then.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Laira said, rather pleasantly.

“Saeza.”

The whiphid shrugged, putting on his cloak to cover the wound and sat behind a desk. “Padawan Darkhold, you are more experienced than I had been lead to believe. Certainly more skilled. Regardless, you are a slave to your emotions, and that is the path to darkness.”

“There is no emotion, there is peace.” The Healer muttered.

“Yes, but that is not the truth. Even the most stalwart Jedi feels emotions, even strong ones at times. But we, as Guardians, cannot be allowed to lose control of ourselves. We will feel, but we cannot be lost to those feelings. Passion, love, anger, even sorrow will all trouble us. Guilt as well, but they can never deter us from our path.” Master B’rahk closed his wounded hand around a cloth. “You are a good fighter Padawan Darkhold, but a piss poor Jedi.”

“Well, I’m new at this.”

“I don’t care. You're an adult and I need Jedi to win this war we are currently losing. Badly.” He grunted as he tightened the bandage around his hand. “I don’t have time to waste trying to teach you the fundamentals of discipline and control.” Saeza frowned as the Whiphid spoke, “Nor do I have inclination to teach you how to survive.” His attention turned to the Healer. Laira already felt much better, her injuries and migraine no longer throbbing with pain so she didn’t exactly understand why she was also the subject of his ire. “You both need to improve, immensely. You both should be ready to be knighted and instead you are both barely above what is expected from a youngling making their first saber.”

Saeza turned her eyes downward and Laira simply glared at the Jedi Master. “So what, you are just done with me?”

“No, times are too desperate to turn away every lackluster student. Master Varon has assigned you both to me in the hopes that I can salvage you, but I will not. You will either help yourselves determined to be a Jedi, or you will be excommunicated from the Remnant. I haven’t decided on a deadline.” He crossed his arms, regarding the redhead’s angry expression.

“So you are telling us we are both worthless, and then you are telling us to train one another.”

“Yes. Find the resolve to improve within yourself, I’ve merely provided an example of strength where your weaknesses lie.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Laira remarked, already exasperated by the Whiphid.

“The Force works in mysterious ways Padawan Darkhold. I do not. You are a survivor, but ruled by emotion. Saeza is a well trained Jedi who is as timid as a mouse. Figure it out. Dismissed, the both of you.”

Laira wanted to growl at him and continue their disagreement, but the large Jedi warrior had made it clear that he was done spending time on them. He felt he had done more than his share and turned his efforts back to his data terminal.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira and the Sephi walked away down the corridors, the young padawan had black hair with some of its curls left loose and the rest pulled into a tail behind her head. Her golden eyes were certainly the most striking figure about the girl, other than that she was absolutely adorable. Her timidness wasn’t exaggerated as the girl barely talked and almost never met anyone’s gaze while the two walked down the corridors to Laira’s dormitory.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a bully.” Laira said, trying to be comforting to the young Jedi, rubbing her back.

She turned her golden eyes on the redhead, mild shock across her features. “He is a Master, Padawan Darkhold. He imparted us with his wisdom, he cannot be a bully and a Jedi Master at once.”

“You’d be surprised.” the ranger smirked, opening the door to the chambers. “Just Laira is fine. Well, here’s home until he lets us leave. I have a friend coming by soon if you want to meet him.” The room was bare other than her clothes and belt on her bed, the walls metallic and with no window.

“Thank you for letting me stay here. I will do my best not to be a nuisance to you.”

“Why would you be a nuisance?” Laira’s curiosity was no piqued as she inquired about the little Jedi Healer.

“I have been told I am messy and dirty. I try to keep my space clean as best I can, and bathe regularly, but I still my peers at the temple have said I was unclean.” She kept her big golden eyes pointed around Laira’s shoes. It reminded Laira of a more extreme version of herself a few years ago, much to the redhead’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, I’m a bit messy as well. I won’t mind.”

“You are most kind Padawan Darkhold, uh, Laira.” She bowed and turned to her own drawers, opening them to place her spare robes and spacers clothing into the cabinet on her side of the dormitories. Laira sat on the bed, kicking her feet up as she watched the timid Padawan.

“So, how long have you been a healer?”

“I am not a healer. I am a Padawan, training to be a Jedi Knight.” She responded, hanging her cloak from a hook on the wall.

“But you healed me?”

“No, I just numbed your pain and helped guide your body’s natural healing process to the injuries.” She responded, pulling on her ear.

“Oh, okay I guess-” Laira stopped as the Sephi’s face peeled away, as if melting off her bones and slipping underneath her clothes. “What the hell?!” She cried as the grey-blue skin of a little Vong female appeared from beneath the pale sephi skin.

“Oh, I’m sorry Padawan Darkhold. I should have asked before removing my masquer. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Laira was a bit surprised to see an Yuuzhan Vong, and didn’t try to hide it.

“You’re an Yuuzhan Vong!”

“Yes, technically just Vong, shamed by my Domain.” The girl’s head hung low. "I am sorry to have startled you."

It took Laira a moment to get over her initial shock, but despite the Yuuzhan Vong nose, the girl remained adorable and sweet. Her aura was calm and timid, and one of kindness. Laira felt no danger or malicious intent so she tried to hide her surprise. “Oh, I'm fine. Why'd they kick you out? Cause of your Force Sensitivity? Where are you from?”

“Yes, they did not approve of it. I am from Alderaan. Of Domain Vang.”

“Oh, nice. I’m grew up on Alderaan. I remember when the reservations got cleaned up and a bunch of Yuuzhan Vong came to integrate with the returning Alderaanians.”

“Master Varon brought me to the enclave there, and then took me to join the Resistance with him. I am very grateful to him for having been given this opportunity.”

“That’s really cool. Some Jedi are the reason I decided I want to be one, seeing them in action and all. Not all my friends would approve though.”

“Why not?”

“The Jedi have a sour history these days. A lot of blemishes on their record.”

“Are the Jedi they are used to seeing unwashed? Perhaps that is the cause of their blemishes.”

“What? No, I mean they aren’t well liked anymore.”

“Oh,” The vong mused and then returned to straightening her clothing and putting away her ooglith masquer. Laira was having trouble seeing how her friends had called her messy, everything about the girl was neat and orderly, she even smelled like a sweet scent. It was about then that Laira realized they hadn’t been literally calling her a Dirty person, but a Dirty Vong. They had been insulting her and either she had never noticed or simply decided they meant something else to excuse them and cope with the bullying.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira and Saeza spent most of the day relaxing, getting to know one another and sharing a few stories. Laira realized that her new compatriot was dangerously naive, to the point of not understanding basic insults or innuendos having been sheltered her entire life. Luckily she was a bookworm and a competent Jedi for her part. She lacked life experience, and Laira had lived more than some people ever did. Leo had eventually come by to bring more of Laira’s things from her ship and inform her that he and Rowdy were settled in onboard the Outcast and that they’d be running a supply run for the Resistance in their down time and not to worry about either of them.

Other than that, their time was uneventful together. Saeza was curious about Leo’s past, but otherwise uninvolved with the tall man. Both of them broke stereotypes, which intrigued Laira since she fell right into a very niche one.

After a good night’s sleep and one extra visit to the infirmary, the Doctors agreed she was healed up in good time and that her tooth had set after her ordeal, so Laira suggested that Saeza and she spar together in the cages.

Saeza preferred the defensive form, though she didn’t capitalize on opportunities to go onto the offensive while Laira was very fast paced in her movements. At one point the redhead decided to show off and stood upside down on the ceiling of the cage, but the two got a little training in before Laira turned her attention to physical conditioning once more, running the track and weight lifting within the chamber.

As the day began to grow late, others left and Laira found herself exercising alone for the first time in many months, carefully setting the bar down as she prepared to move to the next thing of her routine. “You find your center best when active?”

The whiphid’s voice startled Laira as she snapped around to see the Jedi Master likewise spending the late night in the gymnasium. He was wearing high density weights around his stomach, hands, and feet, and seemed to be headed for the gravity room with his Lightsaber. The redhead eyed him carefully, “Yeah, it calms me when I need it to.”

“Same.” He answered as he walked to the dial to adjust the gravity room’s pull before he entered. “I find exercise is the best self-discipline one can have. It focuses the mind and quiets the heart while driving one towards a clear goal. Don’t let me interrupt you.” His breathing steadied as he entered the room, igniting his saber and beginning to work through the positions of Shi-Cho in rhythm. Laira watched him for a moment, then returned to her crunches, her mind prowling on whether or not to dislike the whiphid warrior.

Almost an hour later she finished and wracked her last set of weights, deciding to check on the Jedi warrior who was now working through the motions of Djem So. The Practice Magnaguards entered after he finished each set was completed and he would fight them in the style he had just worked through. The redhead walked a circuit around the gravity room, observing him as she did, squeezing her towel around her neck. Her grey eyes fell to the readout, sitting at double standard gravity. Her first thought was to mischief, considering clicking it up a few notches as a prank, but decided against it. Instead she circled back to the entrance of the cage and sat down in his line of sight.

“You didn’t really help me you know.”

“I know.” He grunted, shifting his position once more. “I’m not here to help you. You have to do that yourself.”

“Well then why are you here?” She asked, unwrapping her towel from around her, letting her sweat drip from it.

“To lead the Jedi against the Sith. Occasionally I guide lost students back to the path.”

“Well, I guess I’ll leave then. I’ll see if some other temple can help me.” Laira rolled to stand and walk away as she spoke.

“They won’t.”

“Oh yeah, why is that?”

“Because you’re a stupid girl playing hero. They don’t have time for that either.” B’rahk continued his changing stances and as he hit the last one in the set, the chime binged and the magnaguards reactivated and engaged the Jedi Master. Laira stood by, waiting for him to finish them off before retorting, not wanting to let him have the last word or have to repeat herself.

“Then what? Just give up? Is that what you’d have me do? I just don’t want to be like this anymore.”

“Then don’t be. Stop letting guilt rule you and maybe you’ll be passable.”

“What guilt? I don’t feel guilty about anything.”

The whiphid chortled, moving into Nimaan as he restarted his exercise. “Yes you do. Survivors guilt, guilt over killing others, guilt over abandoning your family. Guilt over not rescuing your friend. You learn a lot from someone when you fight them.”

Laira’s eyes searched him for a reaction, and then with a scowl she sat back down. “It’s just… Keth returned to the Force. He was a good person, a good Jedi even. I’m the killer, the antagonist in that book.”

“Perhaps, but half the people you fight end up being good people. That is just how war is. Besides the leaders and the fanatics, everyone else is just your average citizen with a gun fighting for what they think is right. Sometimes they are right, sometimes they aren’t.” The hum of the Whiphid’s blade buzzed around him as he continued to move even while he spoke, his breathing starting to become hassled.

“Then we shouldn’t be fighting them.”

“Is it better to let a few live so that many suffer? No, of course not. The key is to decide what the conditions of victory are and strive for them with every action. Sometimes we are all called to fight in war, and rarely are innocents spared in war.” He brought his blade up above his head in a high guard, spinning on his heel. “As Jedi, we must do all we can to minimize the loss of innocent life overall, even among the enemy soldiers by being proactive in such attempts while still struggling against darkness.”

“So what, I’m just going to have to live with killing innocent people?”

“Yes. It isn’t something that is supposed to be easy. It should be just as difficult the first time as the hundredth time. But it can’t stop you from being willing to fight for what is right against whoever challenges you.”

“The Jedi Way says we should defend innocents from harm. We can’t do that and fight them.”

“We can, and always have. The Sith will always exploit that and send innocents they have deceived into serving them to challenge us. We can’t just back down because they’ve decided to use human shields. It will only encourage them, and cost millions their lives and freedom in the process.”

“So how do you deal with it?”

“I remind myself of my duty to the galaxy. I was given power and skill to use it, I have a responsibility to use it to better the people who live alongside me. It is a burden, but the Force grants me the strength to bear it.” Once more he prepared to perform the last of the set of Nimaan’s movements and stances, but instead he slouched down and stood flat-footed facing Laira. “You have a duty to your friends, to your people, your planet, and to the galaxy. You can’t let your feelings get in the way and force them to carry it. That is selfish and irresponsible. But you can lean on them when you need to.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira squinted at the towering Whiphid Jedi, musing on what he had said. It wasn’t really what she wanted to hear, but there was some wisdom in what he had spoken about. “Maybe you aren’t useless. When my ship gets back, I’ll take Saeza out on a milk run or something.” The redhead shifted her weight, kicking her legs out from underneath her rump. “I thought you weren’t here to help me?”

“I’m not.” He grunted, continuing his exercise beginning with Nimaan once more, restarting the movements and poses from the beginning since he had been interrupted before he finished.

“Well, what do you call that just now, huh?” Laira started to crack a smile, hoping for an instant he had warmed to her, just barely before he responded.

“Having to force-feed wisdom to a stubborn padawan.” Laira pursed her lips preparing a rebuttal in her mind when he continued. “I won’t bother again. Next time you refuse to learn, you’ll be gone.” He didn’t bother to gruffly add that she was free to leave, but it seemed implied to the redhead and so she stood and sauntered out of the gymnasium, back through the corridors.

When she arrived back at her dormitory, her Yuuzhan Vong partner was sitting cross-legged on her own bed, eyes closed and arms spread. The redhead nodded her head and plopped down on her own bed, tired and sweaty from her workout. “Meditating?” She asked, rhetorically.

“Yes. I’m trying a manner used by a Je’daii Master to achieve balance.” The Yuuzhan Vong replied.

The redhead rolled her eyes, disinterested in the history lesson or meditation in general. “So, what do you think of Master B’rahk’s ultimatum? You’ve been a Jedi most of your life, surely you’ve got to be worried about being kicked out.”

Saeza’s gold eyes flicked open, slit pupils turning on Laira. Her body betrayed her just for an instant, a slight shiver running up the little padawan’s spine. “If it is the will of the Force, it will be.”

“Pssh, please. If I get the boot, I’m just resigning with RESINT.” It was unlikely to be the truth, as she was far more concerned with her own inner demons and finding a way, through the Jedi, to combat them and eventually conquer them. “Besides, you can’t honestly expect me to believe you wouldn’t be heartbroken if you got kicked out.” Laira needed to conquer her fear of herself, the darkness she felt after battle, what B’rahk had called guilt. She needed to learn a way to cope with it so that it didn’t consume her, but how could someone simply cope and move on? It almost sounded as though the Jedi Master advocated becoming a sociopath with remorse, but he had given her no advice on handling her emotions. Just that she must in order to survive.

Saeza sighed, her arms wrapping around herself. “Well, yes Padawan Dar- I mean Laira. All I’ve ever really known is cruelty and the Jedi. I could not return to my people or my home, and I would be alone. I, I never really thought about being anything but a Jedi. It's all I've ever wanted to be from as early as I can remember, before I first stepped foot in the temple.”

Laira rolled over, “You could stick with me, you seem nice enough. I could always use an extra hand on the Outcast.” Leo and Rowdy would likely not take kindly to having an extra person, Leo would have to deal with putting a divider in the crew quarters and Rowdy was always a pain about people messing with his ship.

“Thank you for the offer. The Jedi Disciplines teach us that we should never plan for failure, as if we plan for failure, we are expected to lose and will only use our minimal effort.” The Vong smiled, showing short fangs where her canine teeth should be, her posture still timid and meek. “I will improve and Master B’rahk will accept me as a Knight. And I will do so by travelling with you and earning my place through conflict and hardship, proving that I have the will, wisdom, and courage to be a Jedi.”

Laira let out a laugh, rolling to her feet and picking up a fresh towel from her cabinet. “Alright then, no planning for defeat. He said he’d put us together so we could learn from each other so I’ll have to pick your brain after my shower.” She was wary about revealing her problems and darkness to a relative stranger. When she had to B’rahk he had just belittled her and beaten her physically. Laira doubted that Saeza was capable of taking her in a fight, she wasn’t in the mood to be judged and mistrusted by her new companion so early. “Sit tight, I’ll be back later and we can talk.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

It had been a while since she had an actual water shower, mostly just sonic refreshers from her ship or on the Scarlet Destiny. One of the few commodities the Solace of Conviction did have was a plumbing system that actually worked, allowing for hot water baths, and the section of dormitories Laira had picked was bare, just she and Saeza sharing a communal bathroom. The redhead had flirted with one of the maintenance crew to ensure it was well-scrubbed every day.

She had stood under the water contemplating her choices, all that she had been told, and all that she had done. Tephrike had shown the ranger that she was not prepared for the lifestyle of a warrior like she had thought. Her entire life she had trained, conditioned, prepared for the inevitability of battle and warfare, but nothing had prepared her for the horror of war. Psychologically, she was devastated, unable to continue and so she had decided to rescind her commission alongside Leo so that they wouldn’t send her back into combat before the redhead had prepared to handle it once more.

Instead, she had rushed off and joined the Jedi Remnant, hoping that Jedi could help her understand how they managed to do their duty and cope with the loss they endured. The loss they caused as well.

So far, all she had been told was her darkness, she was convinced was bloodlust and the hunger to kill, was instead guilt and fear. That eventually fear would tear her apart and drive her to darkness and eventually evil. Or more likely would allow evil to occur because she was too afraid to act.

She returned to the dormitory, draped in a towel with her bright red hair twisted into another towel. Saeza opened her eyes when Laira entered, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes, jeez don’t rush me.” Laira said with a grin, digging through her clothes to find what she wanted to wear.

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to burden you.” The yuuzhan vong said, looking down to the ground as though scolded.

“I’m kidding, ask me anything. You are going to need to learn to read the room a little better.”

For a second the young Yuuzhan Vong glanced around the room with her golden eyes before returning to the redhead a moment later. “Oh, um, I was hoping you could show me how to fight tomorrow?”

“We sparred today.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t fighting. You weren’t trying to beat me, you were just practicing.” The Vong glanced down at the floor, “And I was still inadequate.”

Laira pulled on a pair of boy shorts, followed by tight fitting trousers. “You were fine, good form, tight movements. I’m not good with Lightsaber forms, but defense is about exploiting openings. Eventually, even with Soresu, you have to attack is all.”

“I understand.” Saeza almost always seemed rather ashamed of herself, rather by upbringing or simple timidness, the Yuuzhan Vong was full of self-doubt. They weren’t too dissimilar in that regard.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve never been in a real fight before, you’ll learn.” She’d learn a lot more about fighting than how to do with it. It was ugly, and rarely did Laira walk away proud from fighting up close and personal. Even flying had lost its appeal to the redhead after all she had seen and all she had done, for in a cockpit it distanced her from the reality of what she was doing but now she had seen it in all its horror.

“Something is troubling you?”

Laira realized she had frozen, simply staring into her drawers as she thought on her on morality. “Oh, yeah. I can’t decide which shirt to wear is all.” Saeza looked at her, knowing she was lying, but said nothing. Gold eyes simply looked on with concern. Laira produced a black sleeveless top and donned it quickly and modestly before returning her gaze to the Yuuzhan Vong’s, “What?”

“You seem distraught.” Saeza remarked, kind eyes looking at the redhead moving beside her. “Is it something I did?”

“No.” Laira frowned at the little vong, “No, of course not. You’re great, really. Its just, I’m dealing with some stuff.”

“Can I help?”

Laira sighed, for the first time since meeting the Vong she was the one who felt ashamed. “No, not right now, hun.” She smiled reassuringly at Saeza, “I’ll let you know, though. Promise.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira and Saeza finished up the week on the Solace, which reminded Laira a lot of her time spent on the Scarlet Destiny. The tight quarters, lots of just exercising with little else to do. Saeza had wanted to spend most her time on the ship practicing lightsaber combat, and following Laira around like a puppy.

Master B’rahk had been called away, sent to a wartorn planet where his presence was direly needed. For a few days the Temple Ship had been left in the charge of Master Ryn who was arriving, with Laira and Saeza responsible for meeting him in the docking bay and helping him with his things.

“I guess I should really introduce you to the rest of the crew while we are here. The next tube has the Outcast and everyone is aboard.” Laira said as the pair walked, the redhead more sauntering than her companion, through the connecting tube where the docking ports were located.

The little Yuuzhan Vong, currently in her ooglith that made her look like a sephi or tanned eldorai followed closely behind, “But, we shouldn’t be late to meet Master Ryn. Respect is a Jedi virtue.”

“Relax,” Laira said over her shoulder. “It’s right here, we’ll be able to see the ship coming in. Leo’s just getting back and I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you.” The yuuzhan vong didn’t seem relieved in the slightest, but she continued to follow the redhead dutifully.

A moment later and the airlocks were opening to the Rebel Outcast, Laira’s personal freighter she’d had modified by the Hollows on the Solemn Purpose. Naboo engineers and a few Resistance mechanics helped her modify it, with a little encouragement from the redhead in exchange for modeling her Sith infiltrator outfit and more than a few credits. The XS-100 looked exactly like the kind of ship she had always imagined a smuggler flying, and she loved it like it was her own child.

The airlocks opened, and amid angry digital bleeps and beeps, Rowdy emerged ahead of the tall ex-Death Trooper who flew as Laira’s co-pilot. “Hiya buddy.” Laira said, bending down to give the droid a hug, which it returned with its manipulator arms without stopping its beeping. “He did what?” she gasped, standing to point at Leo with faux anger. “He is just as much a member of the crew as you! You can’t lock him out of the ship.”

“Tattletale.” The tall man responded, feinting a kick towards the droid. “Hey Laira.”

“Hey.” She said, letting her arms wrap around the tall, dark haired man. “Missed you guys a ton.” She released her friend and gestured to her Jedi companion, “Leo, this is Saeza my new partner. Saeza, this is Leo my right hand man. And that is Rowdy, my mechanic and sometimes Co-Pilot.” The droid waved as it continued to roll away in a huff, while Leo shook the Yuuzhan Vong’s hand.

“How do you do?” He said in a simple greeting. He was wearing simple spacer’s clothing. Trousers and a grey button down shirt with a blast vest over it and pistol on his hip.

“Do what?” Saeza asked, her big yellow eyes searching him.

“It means hello hun.” The redhead said with a chuckle, tossing her arm over the Jedi’s shoulder. “Leo is great, but I’m sure he’ll miss having to give up half his room so we can give you your own place.”

“Huh?” The tall man asked falling in step behind the two as he strode. “She’s coming with us?”

“Yes sweetie, she’s coming with us.”

The trio stopped in front of the empty boarding tube, while Rowdy continued on, presumably towards the mechanics bay for supplies. “Oh, that’s cool. It’ll be good to have another girl aboard.” The tall man said with a smile. Saeza hadn’t mentioned or seemed to notice the three long scars across the young man’s face, which Laira was grateful for. The redhead could see past them, but sometimes they just reminded her that she had let him and everyone else down when they needed her and he had been disfigured for it. It was a reminder of her failure she was forced to see on her friend every time they spent time together.

“Thank you. I look forward to knowing you better. Laira has told me about you.”

“He’s amazing. I tell her that all the time.” She batted her eyelashes at the dark haired man who blushed as she did, avoiding eye contact, which only made her giggle with contentment.

“Thanks, I’m sure you’ve told her all the grizzly details.”

“Nope, just the good parts. Tell him.”

“Just the good parts.” Saeza repeated, clearly coached on what response to give. Leo and Laira started to chat more as the boarding tube hissed, a vessel clamping and pressurizing it.

“So, what do you know about this Master Ryn?” Laira asked Saeza, squeezing her as she did.

“Nothing.” Saeza responded quietly.

Leo piqued up from behind the two girls. “Only that he is one of the most powerful Jedi in the Remnant.” It wasn’t much of a reputation, but it was something Laira could ponder on.

The tube opened, a number of Jedi and mechanics exited and behind them, at the rear a massive fur covered figured ducked through the tube. When he stood in the corridor his ears scraped the top of the ceiling. Adorned in blue and white loin cloth, an impressive set of gold pauldrons, and a white cloak, the white lion togorian towered over the three waiting on him. Laira looked at him with wide eyes as he eclipsed them all, nearly twice her height and still stooped somewhat as he looked down on them and half as broad. His kind eyes put her at ease though, and his voice while loud and deep, filled with treble sounded friendly. “Hello little ones,” he said, “How may I help you?”

Laira stood for a moment before coming to her senses, lost in the sheer size and splendor of the imposing figure before her. “Oh, um, no. We are waiting for Master Ryn.” She sputtered.

“Then look no further little one, for he is I.”

“We are supposed to help you with your luggage and get you situated then, um, Master Ryn.” Laira said, regaining her composure.

“Thank you little one, but I do not require aid with my luggage. Who, may I ask are the three of you?”

“I’m Laira, this is Saeza, and that’s-”

“Leo. Nice to meet you Master Ryn.” Leo answered, stepping forward and extending his hand out for the Jedi to take.

“Ah, the two padawans B’rahk told me of and the Death Trooper! Excellent!” The Togorian Jedi seemed genuinely happy to see them all as he bowed down, either to look at all them closely or in respect. His paw-like hand enveloped the entirety of Leo's forearm as he shook it gently. “Please, lead the way Padawan Saeza.” He gestured down the corridor for her to lead them towards the Temple dormitories. “Master B’rahk told me about you all, and I am grateful to have met you.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The gigantic Togorian followed Saeza, holding his own travel sack across his back along with his enormous double bladed weapon. It was longer than Laira was tall, possible longer than Leo was and looked as if it weighed a fair amount, a pair of blue crystals set into either blade. The white-gold lion padded in deliberate, long strides that only just kept pace with the smaller trio that accompanied him.

His booming voice, though great in volume, was kind and melodic. “B’rahk told me very little of you all I’m afraid,” Master Ryn began, “I would like to know why it is he decided to warn me of the three of you and left sparse details on the many others.” A knight walking past bowed deeply at the waist before the Jedi Master, ushering himself out of the way which earned him a kind smile and a warm pat on the back from the enormous paws the togorian used for hands.

“Well, probably because he doesn’t like us.” Laira said, looking down and away. It may have sounded like she was after pity, but she did feel like it was the truth.

“Ah, can I trust you with a secret?” The lion asked, leaning around to look at the redhead while hunched in the corridor.

“Uh, I guess.”

“He doesn’t much like me either.” Master Ryn whispered. “Not proactive enough for him.”

“Really, but you’re a Master? You’re on his council.” Laira asked with some disbelief in her tone.

“Oh yes. Probably not to his liking. But, I trust no one more with the lives of my friends. As stern as he is to his allies, he meets his enemies with even greater conviction.” The Togorian took a long stride and passed Saeza for a second as she took a corner, having to purposefully slow himself for a moment so as not to outpace them all. “But, that does not tell me why you are of import?”

“Well, Saeza and I are on a deadline to improve our jedi-ness,” Laira paused exaggerating the last word as though she was unsure of it, “He thinks I’m too emotional.” The togorian nodded quietly.

Leo spoke next, interjecting himself into the conversation. “I’m an ex-Imperial. He doesn’t trust I’m not a sleeper agent I suppose.”

The togorian let out a roar that resembled a laugh, shoulders heaving and a smile of amusement plastered upon his feline features. He wiped a tear from his eye, “That is humorous indeed. We are all turncoats here my friend,” Laira secretly suspected that B’rahk simply didn’t trust her and thus that distrust had infected all of her close friends. “Worry not though Master Coburn, for I have trained several apprentices. All were dark siders when I found them and he trusts them all just as I do. He will come around, but he requires proof before he trusts.”

The togorian smiled once more, Saeza stopping at a door that slid open to reveal what was simply an over-sized dormitory with bare walls and a very large cot. “Thank you, little Saeza for helping me find my way! My door is never locked if you are in need.” He grinned and stepped into the room, setting about unpacking without closing the door behind him.

Laira and Leo waved their goodbyes and turned away while Saeza, staring at the floor walked inside. After they had taken a few turns and gone a good distance, the redhead turned to her friend. “So, why are you so excited to talk to him?”

Leo shrugged his shoulders. “No reason. Just trying to be involved in all your, ‘Jedi-Ness’.” His tone turned to mocking, earning him a playful shove from the redhead as they walked. She had her suspicions as to his interest. Leo was well aware of her fears about herself, and he was more informed about the Force than he let on to others. It was entirely possible he heard of a redeeming Jedi Master and researched him heavily in an effort to get Laira under his tutelage.

While him being a mother hen over her did bother the redhead, she had to admit it wasn’t a bad plan. If Master Ryn had trained dark siders back from the brink as a profession, he could help her for certain. She wasn’t all that far gone in the first place. Hopefully when they got back, she'd be able to pick his brain a little about her own predicament.