MommyHoldMe wrote:
Finally read through all of it Boro, one word.. magnificent! You sir have a great talent for writing. I am looking really forward to reading more of your work.
Many thanks, MHM!
I just discovered how easy it is to accidentally delete a post while trying to hit the "edit" button on mobile, so won't be trying that again!
Part III
As he ran, Bor’om shed his robe. He could ill-afford to have the garment trip him up at a time like this. The attacking starfighters strafed low overhead, firing as they went. The impact blasts were deafening, but their first pass missed the freighter. The tumult made it impossible to hear anything from his comlink, causing anxious sweat to bead on his forehead. He managed to clear the distance to the ship without being noticed; the surviving handful of smugglers on the ground were much too preoccupied with escaping another pass from the fighters. The one guarding the boarding ramp, though, had remained, and was shouting and gesturing toward the ship, trying to get the others on board. He spotted the distorted figure of the sprinting Jedi, and found a target for his frustration. Leveling the heavy blaster, he opened fire.
Bor’om redirected his concentration, abandoning his enhanced speed to have time to sense where the blaster bolts would move. The leather grip of his weapon came flying to his hand and he ignited the emerald blade in time to deflect two of the shots safely away.
Reaching further into the future, he sent a third bolt back into the smuggler’s chest. He collapsed out of Bor’om’s path, and the Padawan sprinted up the ramp into the ship. The lights flickered in the hall as the ship was rattled by blasts from the fighters. The smell of something burning filled the corridors. This ship wouldn’t be able to take much punishment while grounded. As he steadied himself he heard a crackle from his comlink.
“Bor’om, do you copy?”
He fumbled with the device in his hurry to answer, but brought it quickly up.
“Master, I’m here!”
“Listen closely; we have to alert the Council. Use the freighter’s comms array, and then make your way to the cargo hold. The captives are here, and we haven’t much time.”
Bor’om ran further into the ship, calling into his commlink as he ran, “I’ll be there shortly, Master.” Moments later he came to the cockpit doorway, where the still form of what must have been the captain laid halfway into the corridor. Bor’om leapt over him, noting the smoking gash across the dead man’s chest, and the faint scent of charred flesh. He came to a stop at the ship’s controls, mentally grateful for the simple Corellian design. His fingers flicked across the console, and an electronic whine alerted him that it was ready. He plugged his comlink into the console and it began relaying his earlier message even as he transmitted the new one.
“Masters, we’ve come under attack. Whoever hired these slavers is trying to destroy us all to cover their tracks. Master Tenei and I are tryi—” The freighter shook violently under a hit from the fighters’ laser cannons. Bor’om steadied himself on the console, manipulating the controls as he went on, “We’re trying to rescue their captives, but we won’t be in any condition to track our attackers if we succeed. Please, send support!” He failed to keep the edge of panic out of his voice as he snatched his comlink and made for the cargo hold.
At the end of the hall ahead of him he heard cries of distress and soon emerged onto a gantry in the cargo hold. He dropped the relatively short distance to the main floor of the hold and saw, tucked against the walls below the gantry, cage after cage, each about the size of a simple starship’s cabin and each filled with people. They were of several different species, and in varying conditions, but none looked particularly healthy. Many were whimpering or screaming aloud as the freighter shuddered under laser cannon impacts.
“Bor’om!” His attention snapped to his master, at the end of the hold, working at the door controls.
“What’s the problem, Master?” He nodded his head toward the cages.
“Ultrachrome.” She said quickly, not looking up, “It’ll resist any blow from a blaster or saber, but trying to slice it can cause the entire structure to melt…”
“Right onto the captives.”
“Exactly. There’s not much time.”
“I’ve rerouted all the ships power to the deflectors,” he said, earning an appreciative glance from his master, “but they won’t endure much more.” The cargo bay doors groaned and began to open, a ramp descending below them, and Master Tenei stepped back toward the cages.
“We’ll use the Force. Together, we can open them.” She closed her eyes and Bor’om stood beside her, and they reached out with their minds, probing the locking mechanisms on the cages.
“I think...I think I see how to open them, Master,” he said, eyes shut tight and brow furrowed in concentration.
“Follow that instinct, Bor’om,” Throughout the cargo hold, latches to the cages began to snap open, the doors swinging free. The panicked captives began helping each other down through the bay opening, but not all the cages had opened, “Good, that’s almost— ”
An explosion ripped through the freighter, a fireball blossoming from the main corridor into the cargo hold, throwing prisoners and Jedi alike to the floor. Bor’om’s head struck the nearest cage, and everything went dark.
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“Good, that's almost—”
“Pardon, Professor. A moment of your time?”
A young Bor’om, fresh from his Gathering, looked up from the assortment of parts he was trying to compose into a lightsaber, to see who had called Professor Huyang’s attention. It was a robed Togruta woman, accompanied by a Duros male; two of the three Knights who had overseen the Gathering, looking for prospective Padawans. It had made for a nerve wracking experience, knowing that if they proved themselves, they could be chosen. Bor’om had felt that he’d represented himself fairly well. He was sure he was ready to become an apprentice. He could show it now! Returning his focus to his saber parts, he closed his eyes and reached out with the Force. The pieces before him twitched and vibrated, then rose slowly into the air, a shining green crystal at their center. One by one, the parts oriented themselves, lining up with one another. Then, all at once, they flew together, snapping into the distinctive form of a hilt. Bor’om’s eyes snapped open and the completed hilt descended into his open hand. It felt perfect. He looked it over, end-to-end, hefting its weight, relishing the chilly, metallic finish. Finally, tentatively, he pressed the activation stud...but got only a quiet fizzle in response. He pressed it again, but it only made the fizzling stop. Puzzled and disappointed he looked toward the Knights, deep in conversation with Professor Huyang. He'd wanted to show off a completed saber. After a moment's thought, he perked up. If he couldn't demonstrate his skill with the Force, he could demonstrate his humility. Rising from the workbench, he crossed over to the group of superiors, testing his saber as he went.
“Professor?” He began as he walked, “I thought I followed the instructions exactly, but it won't seem to ignite,” Huyang and the Togruta Knight turned toward him to see the problem, “It only fizzles.”
“Fizzles?” The apertures of the droid instructor’s photoreceptors widened, “You've inverted the emitter matrix, child! Turn it off!”
Bor’om looked confusedly at the sparking hilt in his hand.
“No time!” Shouted the Togruta Knight, hand shooting toward the initiate. The hilt zipped out of Bor’om’s hand into hers, and she sent it hurtling down the corridor behind them. A moment later it detonated spectacularly, the blast momentarily shaking the ship. It seemed so loud. Some of the bulkhead plating appeared to have buckled and loosened, but other than some scorched wiring there was no significant damage.
“
Thank you, master Tenei. As for you, young Bor’om…” Huyang launched into a lecture, but Bor’om’s attention was on the Knight, Tenei, with a mixture of awe and apprehension. When she turned to look back at him he saw, at first, the reproach he had expected to see. It stung, but he knew it was justified. But slowly, her expression softened and she smiled at the embarrassed youth, “...and
please follow the diagrams,” Huyang finished. Bor’om bowed deferentially, plaintively, and turned to go back to the work bench.
“Bor’om,” came a soft voice, close behind him. He whipped around and Knight Tenei was there. She held out her open hand, where sat his green crystal, “You’ll need this, hm? Remember, young one, your setbacks will teach you how to stay on your feet…”
_________________________________________________
“...on your feet!”
His vision was a confused jumble of darkness against stabbing flashes of light. The familiar voice rang in his ears again.
“Bor’om, you have to get up!”
He blinked and his vision swam, and cleared. It appeared that the ship’s systems had been knocked out, including the lights. Instead, the hold was eerily illuminated by fire and smoke, and the hull had broken completely open in a couple of places, exposing the hold to the night sky. Bor’om pushed himself up on his hands, looking around. Several meters away, Neah Tenei was propped up against the hold door controls, gingerly nursing an oozing side wound. He was about to cry out, to push himself up and go to her aid, but she cut him off with a look bearing the weight of her will in the Force. His eyes widened, surprised at the vigor of her imprint. She pointed. There were two cages still locked shut, occupants crying in terror, unable even to touch the bars as the surrounding fire continued to heat the metal.
“We have to hurry,” his master urged, voice hoarse, “the fire threatens to collapse the cages on them.”
Bor’om glanced at the locks. They had clearly been fried in the blast. He felt the chill of despair in his gut, and looked back to his master, but her face was more resolute than ever as she uttered only two words.
“The Force.”
He closed his eyes, reaching out. He felt the prisoners, their anguish. He felt his master, and her resolve. He felt the menace of the pilots above them, determined to destroy the freighter and the Jedi with it. But he also felt a twinge of their fear, fear of failure. He began to visualize the bars of the cage. And somewhere, deep in the hearts of the prisoners, he saw a glimmer of hope. He willed the bars to bend, and they started to obey. They could do this! They could escape! Then, a wave of sadness washed over him. Was it the captives? His eyes opened, but they were looking on at him with hesitant faith. Then who? He looked at his master. She had turned away to look through a smoldering crack in the hull, out at the night, where she could see the fighters closing in one more time. All Bor’om saw was a great shard of metal protruding from her back, opposite the wound he'd seen on her front. His focus faltered, and she turned again to face him, the sadness apparent in her face.
“Mas—!”
With a small gesture she sent him hurtling out through the open hold doors into the night, a number of supply crates collapsing on top of him as he landed. No sooner had he stopped tumbling then he heard the screech of blaster cannon fire, and was deafened by another explosion. He tumbled away again amid the supply crates, barely aware of the hot shrapnel showering the ground around him. He finally stopped moving, but then the pain hit him like an out-of-control speeder, and in moments he was unconscious again.