TOPIC: Trials of Transformation

The resurgence of Star Wars hype with the arrival of The Force Awakens got me good, but it wasn't until discovering Saberforge that I knew I wanted to do a cosplay. But it wasn't enough just to do a cosplay; I'm a writer, and play way too many RPGs. It had to be a character. And so a story took shape, and I want to share it here. These posts will correspond with updates on the costume WIP, over in the Cosplay gallery.

At any rate, hope you enjoy!


Footsteps. Steady, but unhurried.

In the absolute darkness of the ancient chamber, a sound echoed for the first time since it had been sealed, centuries before.

Amplified though they were by the bareness of the subterranean shrine outside, the thick walls reduced the sound to little more than muffled shuffling inside the main chamber. But there was only one there to hear it. One who had been expecting company long before the footsteps betrayed its arrival.

After long minutes, the footsteps stopped on the other side of the chamber wall, pausing and then beginning again, following along the two walls that protruded into the shrine, and then pacing back to the corner where they met and stopping once more. Silence prevailed. Were it not for the absence of retreating footsteps, the shrine might have seemed abandoned again. But its visitor was not so easily deterred. Something, not a sound, as such, but palpable, blossomed from the corner of the chamber. A moment later, the room shuddered, disturbing the accumulated layers of dust and sediment. With an earthen groan and a sharp crack, a splinter of light burst on the room. The walls continued to slide steadily apart, received into hidden recesses of the shrine, and as the light from the doorway swelled it framed the silhouette of a robed figure standing just outside, hand raised commandingly. The hand lowered as the walls ground to a stop.

The light shifted as the figure moved into the room, revealing a knee-high slab of rock apparently set into the red stone floor. The solitary shaft of light played across its pitted surface, as the figure slowly paced around it. The thick layer of dust gave it the impression of porous, bleached red bone. At the head of the slab was a simple square plinth, oriented with one corner pointing to the slab, and the opposite one pointing into the corner of the chamber. A four sided pyramid hardly larger than an average human palm projected up from its bare top.

The pilgrim stopped beside the plinth, hooded head looking briefly between it and the slab beside it. The hand extended again, over the plinth, and that same tangible power filled the room for a moment before dissipating like a gust of wind over the pillar, sweeping away the dust as though it were never there. The pyramid could now be seen for what it was; not a part of the pillar, but an artifact: a crystalline blue structure with finely etched symbols clad in a silvery metal frame. The metal also bore markings, though mostly straight intersecting lines, unlike the curving characters set in the crystal. The figure seemed to hesitate at the sight of it, and as if in response, it began to glow. Pale blue light welled up at its heart, dim, but bright enough to illuminate the head of the plinth where it sat. Something moved through the room, like a deep breath, snapping the visitors attention to the deepest corner. But all was still. The wait was over.

Turning back to the artifact, a small open-handed gesture sent it levitating upward, it's glow intensifying. Having risen almost to eye level with the hooded figure, it gave a small, mechanical click, and the tip split into four and folded back. A semitransparent projection materialized above the slab. It was a straight-backed figure clad in similar robes, though with the hood down, revealing the face of an elderly man of a darker, perhaps tanned, complexion with a smooth bald head and a silvery looking beard. He began to speak almost as soon as he appeared.

“Greetings. You hav--You hav--You hav--You hav--” The old man twitched each time, unable to finish his sentence before the projection would reset. The pilgrim looked back at the artifact, and it shook up and down in the air for a moment. “You have been led here by the Force,” the projection finished this time, and the pyramid became still again as the visitor’s attention returned to the old man.

“I believe this,” he said quietly, “and not just because this chamber will have been sealed by barriers only the Force could open.” The creases at the corners of his eyes became more pronounced as he squinted, as if actually seeing the hooded pilgrim. “The Force is a manifestation of destiny. And yours has brought you here. Compared to the Masters who came before, and the many who will surely come after, my experience feels but little. Yet it seems that I cannot have solace until I have recorded my journey and what wisdom it may offer for others. I must trust, then, that it will serve a greater purpose. So here I have waited for it to be fulfilled.”

The hooded pilgrim sank into a seated position as the projection went on.

“In the beginning, I was known as Bor'om. What I shall be remembered as, I leave to you to decide. Like many, I learned of my connection to the Force as a child…”

That was a riveting read Borommakot.
Excellent writing with generous adjective use and subtle metaphors that effectively projected the anxiety and solitude within the walls. I enjoyed the end reveal. Very surprising. With the personality that is you (real life) and you SFF Avatar, am left still guessing at whether it's an autobiography or a biography. Through well constructed passages and verses it is evident that this extends beyond a mere motivation as a hobby rather a demonstration of one's (yours) creative expertise.
Remarkable writing. You have my audience.

Hi Borommakot,

A fantastic start to your story. As OvrcAHst has pointed out very well written, with a good pace and the power to draw you in further. Then the twist at the end to promote more questions, who is the robed figure who entered the chamber? Who is Bor'om and what events necessitated him to program the holographic message? What events will be triggered by the current events?

I will continue reading with interest.

For Tyeth

P.S. Borommakot, you may recall I posted part of my story but was advised to remove it while I had discussions about getting clearances to use the story as I hoped. Well I don't think my plans will come to fruition so may repost some of it in a while. I will wait for more of your story to get attention first.

OvrcAHst wrote:
Thanks very much! Hopefully it remains interesting as time goes on. And let me say right off the bat that if you notice errors or have structural suggestions, don't hesitate to offer them.
For Tyeth wrote:
Much appreaciated, For! I'm really looking forward to seeing more of your story as well!

I read this last night, and just reread it now. Holy crap. This is really good Borommakot. I love the ambiguousness. I could feel like I was actually the pilgrim opening up the Holocron, I think thats what it is. Really great stuff!

Dusk crawled across the Western Hemisphere, the planet's quiet, orange star falling quickly behind the peak of a low slung range of mountains to the northwest. A solitary figure stood silhouetted on a jutting hilltop overlooking a green and gray valley. Clad in a thick robe that appeared more red than brown in the fading light, the figure turned slightly, allowing the gleam to penetrate the hood of the robes and reveal a red-orange face set with piercing turquoise eyes. The Togruta woman’s brow was furrowed as she called into her communicator. Neah Tenei had been trying unsuccessfully to raise her apprentice on the comms device for several minutes.

“Bor'om? Bor'om, come in. Bor'om, where are you?”

At last the device chirped back a response.

“Here, Master.”

Neah exhaled sharply through her small, but flaring nostrils, half hoping the communicator would carry her gesture of exasperation through to its recipient while her eyes narrowed with her words.

“Where were you, Padawan, and why didn't you respond?”

“Nature called, Master, and I had to answer,” came the jovial response from a masculine voice, garbled slightly by the battered communicator.

“Such irreverence, Bor'om. Keep your mind on the task at hand. We cannot afford to be distracted on this mission.”

“Of course, Master. Rest assured, I kept my senses attuned to any, eh, disturbances the, ahem, entire time.”

Neah tried to suppress a smile, despite nobody being present to see it. “I have no doubt. Any sign of our smuggler friends?”

“Not yet, Master. I have a vantage point over the entire basin, but there hasn't been any movement since this afternoon.”

Neah gazed out over the valley, keen eyes picking out the plateau almost directly opposite her where her apprentice kept watch.

“We will exercise patience, then,” she instructed, “If they do not appear by morning, we will need to report the delay to the Council. They are eager to see this case closed.”

“Master, I still find it difficult to believe that any smuggling ring would so boldly traffic slaves so far into the interior. The severity of the laws...”

“Greed is a powerful motivator, young apprentice, and many slavers pay exorbitantly for slaves they can bill as coming from the interior systems. Even so, I understand your unease. I too feel something unusual at work. Keep your mind open, as well as your eyes. Check in hourly. In the meantime, we have much to meditate on.”

“Yes, Master.”

Closing the link, Neah returned the device to her belt and after a contemplative pause, knelt on the edge of the hilltop. Her eyes closed serenely, but she became acutely more aware of the valley than she had been while looking at it. At some distance, she could feel her Padawan doing the same, and marveled with some amusement at his ability to go from exuberant to peaceful in the blink of an eye.

Bor’om brushed his master’s mind on the other side of the great basin, and then redirected his feelings down into the valley itself. There were no dwellings in the plain below, and the setting of the sun had drawn out but little in the way of nocturnal wildlife. The place appeared picturesque, except for the stain of fear on the landscape. It had been their great fortune that Bor’om had sensed it after their previous lead had gone nowhere. Master Tenei’s relief at having caught the trail had outweighed her concern over her padawan’s reckless use of his empathic powers. The human youth, tan skinned, with wide brown eyes, often evaded his Master’s censure with such conundrums, though she rarely actually forgot anything, and he would often be reminded of his actions when later lessons would take an unexpected and often humiliating turn. He smiled as he recalled the last instance, having to suddenly begin deflecting rocks that hurled themselves at him as had attempted to meditate on one hand.

As he straightened his seated posture and refocused, he assured himself that it had been the right move. Had his mind not been stretched out as far as his reach would allow, he would not have noticed the surge of terror out in the lowlands, isolated from the local ports where they had hoped to find news of the smugglers. Master Tenei had suggested that he had felt the shudder of fear that had gone through the slaves upon being herded onto their transport. Of course, by the time the Jedi had made their way to the plains, whatever ship or slaves had been there were gone, but with persistence, they had found an isolated local farmer who had confirmed regular landings of a single freighter out in a shallow valley, southeast of the mountains. After a short reconnaissance, they uncovered a hidden refueling station. The fear of many permeated the valley floor, and they knew they could count on the smugglers’ return to the same spot. They had needed to wait only a few days before Master Tenei sensed that the freighter would return, and they had settled in to catch the smugglers in the act.

Drawing his robes tighter around him, Bor’om suppressed a twinge of anger that disturbed his meditation, reasoning that it originated from the feelings that this valley had seen and still held, like a cup overfilled with mist. This was why Master Tenei cautioned him against such broad empathic meditation; it opened the door for foreign and insidious feelings that were not one's own to enter, and take root. But Bor’om understood the danger, and the origin of these feelings, and carefully separated them from his own. True, the slaving smugglers were reprehensible in the extreme, and should face justice, but he didn't harbor any personal hatred towards them. He focused instead on their surroundings, trying to absorb as many details as he could; anything that might suggest the smuggler crew’s habits or the state of the slaves while on the planet. He was tempted to turn his mind toward battle meditation, but he knew Master Tenei would not approve. Doing so would demonstrate an eagerness toward conflict unbecoming of a Jedi. Unless the smuggler crew was particularly large, they would realize how outmatched they would be in a battle, and surrender. Among such faithless criminals, it was better to live to steal another day.

Ok that was fun need more,
More I say!!! Nice job me and the wife are writing a book too we are deep in outline character history and bio
not Star Wars but after reading that makes me think I got my work cut out for me
But was fun little read hope to read more

Thanks Kered There'll be more every week! Here's to you and your wife!

Very well done my friend! It kept my attention the entire time. I just wish I could write as fast as you. School and work have me all tangled up hahaha. Keep pressing on, it is getting exciting!

CallMeMistaJ wrote:
Thanks, will do!

Great demonstration of writing and precise articulation Bor'om. Your talent shines and excels beyond comprehensible measure. Very skilled composition that has been accurately refined with uninhibited execution with projection towards a delivery of excellence. Consistently crafted in continuation to your Prologue. Very Well Done!

With his natural senses stretched out by the Force, Bor’om finally felt something; the familiar sense of fear that laced the valley floor was descending again toward the planet. Breaking his meditative state, he plucked his comlink unit from his belt.

“Master.”

The response was immediate.

“I felt it, too, apprentice. Stand by, allow them to land and wait for my signal. If these slavers are smart, they will capitulate quickly and without violence. In the meantime, prepare a message for the Council.

Bor’om nodded, “Yes, Master.”

Eyes turned toward the starry sky, Bor’om recalibrated his comlink to record and it chirped to inform him that it was ready.

“Masters, Padawan Bor'om reporting, accompanied by my Master, Knight Tenei. We have made progress tracking the disappeared settlers from the Uztecka System. The slavers have been hiring a crew of smugglers to transport the settlers to their final destination. We've located a private refueling depot they have along their route in the Terical System and are about to make contact.”

There was a distant concussive thud, and Bor’om paused, turning to see the source. High above them a ship had entered the atmosphere and was arching across the sky toward the basin. Bor’om lifted the comlink back to his lips.

“We see them now. If all goes well we will submit our final report before long.”

Ending the message and stowing his comlink, Bor'om resumed his kneeling position, and mediation. Reaching out with his feelings, the fear emanating from the approaching cargo ship became more pronounced than ever, but alongside it he could feel the cocktail of anxiousness, arrogance and malicious intent that originated from the ship’s crew. In his mind’s eye, he could sense his master descending toward the grassy plot where the ship would land. She slipped into the cover of a ground-clinging shrub as it came low over the rim of the valley with a tinny roar and set down, hydraulics venting all along its underside as the engines were cut. It was a wide, squat ship with a dark hull and a narrow silhouette from the sides, probably of Corellian make, though decidedly larger than most of the popular Corellian models.

Bor'om got to his feet, watching the boarding ramp descend with his own eyes, several shadows already stretched over it. The crew who owned them scampered out and set to uncovering their hidden supplies and fuel, and connecting them to the ship. Bor'om counted seven of them and it was likely that there were at least that many more still on board. One simply stood watch at the foot of the boarding ramp, a blocky looking repeating blaster held loosely in his hands, and Bor'om could see blasters hanging from the shoulders or backs of each of the others, prompting him to frown. He had never encountered this many armed adversaries before. But he knew Master Tenei wouldn't engage unless necessary, and not until the ship was sufficiently tethered, leaving its crew at their most vulnerable.

His belt chirped and Bor'om realized that Master Tenei had activated her comlink, but said nothing. Apparently she anticipated boarding the freighter, and he was meant to hear anything that was said. Back down in the valley he saw her leap almost straight up, propelled by the Force, and arch gracefully down to land beside the guard at the boarding ramp. The comlink transmitted a brief grunt of indignant surprise before his master’s voice cut in.

“You have seen nothing.”

The voice that replied spoke in a rasping language Bor'om was unfamiliar with, but bore the unmistakeable near monotone of one who had succumbed to the mind trick, and a second later Master Tenei had ascended into the ship, the remaining crew outside oblivious to her passing. Bor'om could not shake the anxiety that fell over him at this additional obstacle. If his master needed him, it would be that much harder to reach her. But before he could begin to dwell on this concern, new voices came from the comlink.

“Hoy, how'd you get in--”

“You will take me to the captain of this ship.”

It was another voice that answered, in broken Basic.

“We take you to d’ship cap’tin.”

For several moments the only sound was then clatter of booted feet, presumably while Tenei was led through the ship. Bor'om was relieved to note that the bridge was facing his position, the stronger light from a corridor behind it spilling into the more dimly lit room. He could barely make out a figure there, behind the console, and as he did the corridor light was obscured by the appearance of three people in the doorway. They stopped, and so did the sounds from the comlink. Bor'om saw the figure at the console get up.

“What in the vacuum of the Void is the meaning of this, you slime sucking fools? Did you just bring a Jedi on to my ship?”

There was the reticent grunt of an excuse about to be offered, but Master Tenei intervened.

“Captain, allow me to introduce myself. I am Neah Tenei, Jedi Knight, as you have observed. We have been tracking your activities for some time, captain. As I'm sure you are aware, slaving is a crime in the Republic. You and your crew are to stand down at once. Republic authorities will soon be dispatched to take you into custody.”

“You pretentious Republic dog,” the voice replied, layered with disgust and anger, “You think this is some shallow slaving ring? You just dropped into a furnace and don’t know it yet. Our people don't tolerate delays, much less failure. Every cutthroat on this ship would sooner die fighting tooth and claw against the Republic than await what would come for us in a cell.”

“I understand, Captain, you fear your superiors. But with your cooperation we c--”

“You can what, Jedi? Protect us? They spoke truly of your arrogance. You won’t be able to save yourselves, let alone anyone else.”

It was then that Bor'om noticed it; so fixed was he on the conversation on the bridge of the freighter that he had not distinguished the grim intent in the distance until it was too late. Wheeling around he could barely make out the fast approaching silhouettes with his enhanced senses, but a moment later they made themselves known by the stuttering flashes of laser cannon fire. The sound of the shots reached him just as the bolts streaked down into the valley, tearing up the impromptu landing pad, heedless of the crewmen still outside. Needing no clearer signal, Bor'om gathered the Force around him and streaked down the hillside with unnatural speed.

“Hang on, Master,” he breathed.

As if in response, the slaver captain’s voice came through the comlink, laughing deliriously.

“Well, Jedi, it looks as if the Court has chosen to offer us the mercy of a quick death. It would be ungrateful of me not to do my best to speed yours along!”

Moving as fast as he was, Bor'om couldn't clearly see the bridge of the freighter, but he made out the flash of red and blue that accompanied the sound of a blaster firing and the ignition of a lightsaber.

Another well delivered verse Borommakot. Consistently constructed like those that preceded and with absolute confidence, the same demonstration of consistency will follow. Great Work!

Thanks very much, Ovrcahst!

Borommakot
My words of praise to you concluding each read have been many. There is very little that I can add that I haven't written before. Thank You. Your efforts with how you express the visualisations is to be commended as it is with this unique momentum that propels the reader excitedly as the story unfolds with each digested word.

I particularly enjoyed the momentary flashback that occurred where insights into the Characters past was shared. You executed this remarkably as (in my opinion) demonstrations of humility create a strong influencing engagement that connects the reader with the stories protagonist. This transitioned beautifully and quite flawlessly. I imagine that if the words I read were shown through the medium of television it would have acted as a commercial pause shifting from the past to the present.

You have a great recipe going on here that is delivered exceptionally well and makes it very easy to read. Much like completely immersing oneself into the story when watching a movie, the excitement did not differ as both imagination and anticipation is carried effortlessly like the echoes within an eerie cave.
This is just me as I read. Often fast-paced however conscious of the words I absorb. I had a momentary trip-up where I back tracked to re-read the sentence. I'm not here to police your grammar as relevance of it's importance is minimally low to virtually non-existent.

For the last several weeks now since becoming a captive audience of your material, I look forward to it with much eagerness (liking to waiting for delivery of a Saber) and reference it as Fiction-Friday. Work matters deferred my attention this morning but I knew as soon as time was permitting disappointment would not be present. Astounding work. Very Creative. Can hardly wait for Friday-Fiction next week as to describe my reaction as 'interested' is a massive understatement. Sensational.

OvrcAHst wrote: Thank you for your kind words, friend! I aim to please, and I'm glad you've enjoyed it.

Please do! I definitely want to make sure the read is as error free as possible, so if you spot something, don't ever hesitate to mention it. I won't take offence

Fixed

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.

MommyHoldMe wrote:
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!


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.

“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.

An excellent story so far. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Another excellent addition to a great story well done can't wait to read more