Fan Fiction Attempt

[gebhac]

This is the second post of today.  Before reading this segment, read the above post.  Enjoy!

She approached the group of former Jedi, making no secret she was armed and ready for a fight.  Her hand instinctively wrapped around her lightsaber hilt and her fingers drank in the coolness of the metal.  They turned their attention to her and she stopped.  The one she was here for gestured to the other three and they moved off to the side.  He pulled back his hood and his steel blue eyes pierced her soul, his lightsaber hilt already in his hand.  She raised her weapon in a high guard and took a deep breath.  The twin snap-hisses of both weapons activating echoed impossibly loud in the chamber.  She reached into the Force, centering herself.  And waited.

   “Niman has garnered a poor reputation in past years,” Aeren began.  Several weeks had passed since his return to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple and he found himself teaching a class of his own devising:  Unusual Strategies and Tactics in Lightsaber Combat.  He had barely a dozen students but all were willing to learn what he wanted to teach.  He pointed to an Initiate, a Bothan male.
   “Niman is the Diplomat’s Form, the name derived from the relaxed focus on bladework that’s favored by Jedi that aren’t inclined to lightsaber combat,” he said.
   “Correct,” replied Aeren, easily slipping into the role of a teacher, “Niman fills an operational prerequisite of learning a Form other than Shii-Cho among those who wish to rely on the Force, their wits, or their words.”  He pointed to Phylo, who still had not been selected as a Padawan yet.
   “The dulons and velocities are easily learned and require minimal practice to maintain the required proficiency,” Phylo stated, “within those there are multiple strikes and blocks where a Pull or Push can be utilized into the movements.”
   “Very good, Initiate Cohl.  Niman is derived from the principles of the preceding Forms which should require study of those Forms to properly implement those principles.  Initiate Petran?”  Aeren and his students were seated in a circle in an instruction room, the afternoon light from Coruscant’s sun leaked through slightly closed blinds.
   “It is general convention, as stated by several battlemasters, that truly mastering Niman could take a decade of dedicated study and practice, if not longer,” was the human female’s reply.
   “And there lies the greatest challenge with Niman,” Aeren said, “there are very few Niman masters and most practitioners do not improve higher than being adept.  That brings me to the defining point of this class: do not settle at a given point but always strive to be and do better.”
   “This week we will discuss and demonstrate the basic principles of Niman, starting tomorrow.  And to reiterate to the class we will not touch on Juyo after Niman and I will will only discuss defending against Juyo in this class.  Is that understood?”
   “Yes Master Serus,” the twelve students intoned with the perfunctory bows.
   “Excellent.  After each class I want an hour sparring session, recorded of course, between yourselves and a partner executing the principles we discussed that day.  Each day I want to see a different partner.  I will review them and we will discuss the best and worst next week.”

   “Are you ready Phylo,” the Bothan asked he ignited his orange blade.  Phylo smiled as he activated his lightsaber, swinging it into the flourish favored by Makashi duelists.  The Bothan barreled towards Phylo chopping his blade at perfect forty-five degree angles.  Phylo intersected the orange blade as it slashed towards his right side and sidestepped to the left.  He reached and shoved the Bothan’s right shoulder, sending the Initiate stumbling away.
   Aeren watched them from the side of the sparring mat, hoping to see that the day’s lessons were learned and applied.  The green and orange blades hummed as they traveled through the air and crashed like thunder upon impact with one another.  The Bothan had opened with a perfect Shii-Cho advance that Phylo easily ended.  He smiled when Phylo closed in quickly to finish the fight only to be tripped up by the Bothan’s leg sweep.  Phylo backflipped onto his feet and zeroed in on the Bothan with classic Makashi strikes.
   The Bothan had listened well during the lectures, lulling Phylo into a false sense of initiative until a lunge went a little too far to one side.  The Bothan spun to gather kinetic power and swung mightily at Phylo’s blade in the direction of the lunge.  The combined momentum jerked the lightsaber from Phylo’s hand, sending it flying several meters.  Aeren called it to his hand with the Force.
   “Makashi requires precision, control, and focus, Initiate Cohl,” he called out, “you need more work with all three.  Precision: that final lunge went too far out.  As soon as you executed it, you should have retracted it.  Control: fighting one handed always presents a greater risk of disarmament.  Use the Force, keep a tether on your lightsaber and always be aware of your grip.  Focus: you focused too much on the outcome of the battle and not enough on your opponent.  What did he do, Phylo?”  Phylo was still seething from the upset he had just endured.  He was a full year ahead of the Bothan and he had graduated from Initiate training, he was better than this.  With the cool touch of the Force he re-centered and calmed himself, analyzing the fight quickly.
   “He opened with Shii-Cho until he tripped me up,” Phylo began, “after I recovered  he switched to Ataru but with a twist.  Rather than being aggressive and try to regain the initiative forcefully, he regained it with the Form’s weak defense and giving ground: one of the major principles of Soresu.”
   “Very good Initiate,” Aeren was very pleased.  Not only had Phylo remembered the lessons as well as the Bothan did, but he had also made much progress in regaining control of his impetuous emotions.  “I am officially done with teaching you today.  Unless you two wish to spar again, you are free to do as you wish.  Class will start at eleven hours tomorrow.”  The two Initiates bowed and Aeren left them to their devices.  The Grandmaster had asked Aeren to report on his class and the appointed time was nearing.
   He arrived at the Grandmaster’s small suite to find delicious, mouth-watering aromas of braised nerf and roasted tubers in the air.  He spotted the older man’s outer robe hanging on a set of hooks attached to the wall and removed his well to a bare one.  He walked in the direction of the smells and found the Grandmaster busying himself over a cook top, stirring the roasted tubers with a spatula.
   “Ah, welcome master Serus,” he said upon seeing Aeren standing there, “I thought we could have a working lunch as we discussed how your first class fared.”
   “I didn’t know you cooked, Master,” Aeren said, visibly impressed.
   “It’s very useful in many ways, first and foremost providing a delicious meal,” the Grandmaster replied with a grin, “but for me, it’s a moving meditation.  One must be calm and focused lest you burn it all.  Sure the smells and the sounds are usually distractions, but they serve to keep all other distractions and considerations away.  Once you know what you want to make nothing else matters until it is done.”
   “Cooking a full meal can require a large amount of concentration and awareness of the food being cooked.  Awareness of temperature, doneness, and where it all fits within the meal itself,” Aeren said.  His host grin grew wider and he pointed at Aeren with the spatula.
   “You are growing well in wisdom, master Serus,” the Grandmaster observed as he served large hunks of the nerf onto two plates with the roasted tubers, “your class ends at the end of next week, correct?”
   “Yes, Master.  I’m pleased and proud to report that all my students will pass,” Aeren answered, “they have been very receptive to my teaching style and the material as well.”
   “Very good, very good,” the Grandmaster smiled and the two men paused the conversation for the first few bites.  The nerf meat had been marinated in Corellian whiskey and the spicy flavor of the spirit tantalized Aeren’s taste buds.  The roasted tubers had several herbs and black pepper that were mixed with an Alderaanian wine sauce, balancing the spiciness of the nerf with the sweet wine.
   “Excellent meal Master,” Aeren praised.  The Grandmaster beamed and Aeren felt a surge of pride course through the Force that diminished quickly as it appeared.  The older man cleared his throat.
   “There will be several Masters and a Knight passing through over the next week.  Most are interested in taking on a Padawan and I have placed some remarks in your students dossiers,” he said.  He forked another bite of nerf into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
   “I want to take Phylo Cohl as my Padawan,” Aeren said.  The Grandmaster grunted.  “I know there isn’t much approval for him but the Order will lose him if his training isn’t continued.”
   “I agree.”  Aeren dropped his fork in surprise.  He had expected a bit more resistance from his superior, quite a bit more.
   “Seriously,” Aeren asked.
   “Quite serious in fact,” replied the other man, “I’ve been watching him.  He already considers you his Master.  He looks to you before any other here.  And there is no one else who wants to take him on.”
   “When do I tell him?”
   “When the class is finished at the end of next week,” answered the Grandmaster, “the others who will be taking Padawans will be here and the ceremony will be done then.”

[KraytDragonPearl]

Gebhac,

You have completely captured my imagination.  Your writing style is quite good and very easy to follow.  I hope you continue in your writing venture and keep these great installments coming. 

Point to you for such outstanding work

[gebhac]

I am returned!!  Hopefully with the writing equivalent of vengeance!!  And also come bearing gifts!  I have amassed two more sections, or chapters if you want, to present to you.  The following is the first.  I hope you all enjoy.

She reached her final destination, a large chamber deep within the cavern she and her squad had entered hours earlier.  There were several people milling about between different consoles scattered about the chamber.  With the Force guiding the proper sounds to her ears she picked up important bits about the ongoing defense against her incursion.  Her squad had not suffered any losses and the soldiers and mercenaries defending the cavern were falling back to more defensible positions.

   “Again,” shouted Aeren.  The remotes circled around Phylo so fast a non-Jedi could not keep track of them all.  Somehow Phylo didn’t seem to able to either today.  He brought his lightsaber into the Shien high guard and waited for the remotes to resume firing their stingers.  By his count he had already suffered at least a hundred of them in the last ninety minutes.
   It had been two weeks since Aeren Serus took Phylo Cohl as his Padawan.  The first day Phylo had to himself to enjoy being an Initiate for the final time.  The next day brought a training regimen so brutal, he did not think anyone could withstand it.  But he did some digging in the archives while recovering from a rather harsh session and found that Aeren Serus’ Zabrak Master had put him through the same regimen.
   “Go,” Aeren shouted again.  The remotes began a pre-programmed dance in the air and fired.  Phylo swung his lightsaber in the necessary arcs to intercept them all, the emerald blade humming loudly as it moved.  The shots were either deflected or stopped completely by the blade and every once in a while a shot would reflected back at the firing remote or a different whizzing around Phylo.  As the remotes hovered out of range after being hit, the occurrence of the reflected shots increased dramatically and more remotes moved out of range.
   “Good work Phylo,” Aeren said, with a hint of congratulation, “you have improved by half since last week.  Not as much as we striving for but it is improvement.”  Sweat literally ran in little streams down Phylo’s face, which now sported another diamond under each eye.  Aeren’s class ended on a high note, all of his students have achieved near perfect scores in their final application exam.  Phylo had the second highest score in the class, which he felt was worthy enough to add another diamond.  That and the other one, for being chosen as Aeren’s Padawan, were applied shortly after the ceremony where Padawans were officially selected.
   “Your Master worked you harder, didn’t he,” asked Phylo, each word struggling to escape with ragged breathing.
   “For two reasons: One, I could handle it.  Two, it was necessary,” answered Aeren, “I had, have, the unfortunately ability to turn difficult tasks into less difficult ones.  He went harder on me so I could avoid complacency and arrogance.”  Phylo felt a little insulted by the first reason.
   “What? You don’t think I can handle that difficulty,” he asked brashly.  Aeren’s eyes flashed with irritation.  He turned his gaze towards the datapad that he was using to program the remotes.  He made a few adjustments and activated three more remotes, bringing the total to fifteen.  He nodded and Phylo returned his blade to the high guard.
   “Bring it on.”  Even in his fatigued state Phylo found the new program moderately easy to fight against, it was extremely similar to the ones Aeren had been running against Phylo for the past week.  He worked his blade through now familiar arcs and angles and was rewarded with many stops and interceptions.  He tried to go deeper into the Force for guidance and control.  Then the stingers started working their way through his defenses.
   It was an occasional sting, a welcome nuisance.  But then every other swing allowed a stinger shot to get through and he felt his tired and irritated nerves begin to slow him down.  After another twenty stingers made it through Aeren ended the exercise.  Phylo shut down his blade and collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving for air.  Aeren dropped down to his knees, placing his left hand on Phylo’s head and his right hand on Phylo’s chest.  He reached into the Force, allowing the energy of the universe to calm Phylo’s nerves, to steady the younger man’s breathing, and to ease the ache in the muscles.  Slowly but surely Phylo regained his normal composure and sat up, still breathing heavily.
   “Was that the hardest he had you do,” asked Phylo.
   “That was the second easiest,” Aeren replied softly.  He stood up and smoothed his robes.  “Get up and get showered.  Rest, sleep, meditate.  Whatever you need to do to recover.  I have a meeting with the Council concerning an assignment for us.  The day is yours.”
   “Thank you master,” Phylo said, laying back down.  He passed out.

   Aeren arrived in the Council chamber ten minutes later to find only three people waiting.  The Grandmaster and the Zabrak Master were seated in their normal spots, closest to the largest window.  The third person was Lieutenant Devin Vincenz.
   “Greetings master Serus.  Thank you for joining us,” said the Grandmaster jovially and seriously simultaneously.  Aeren didn’t think that was ever possible.
   “Thank you for the invitation, Master,” Aeren responded as he bowed.
   “Where is your Padawan,” the Zabrak asked brusquely.  As always, he was impossible to please.
   “My Padawan requested to be put through the remote training program you used with me during my Padawan years,” Aeren said, “needless to say he did not succeed as well as he thought.  I set it for level two.”  The Zabrak Master smiled, a rare display of satisfaction that few ever saw.  For a moment Aeren felt a hint of pride towards him from his old Master.
   “Most amusing master Serus,” said the Grandmaster, “the Council has decided to send you and Padawan Cohl on an extended assignment.  A rapid deployment team as the lieutenant here described it.  Through him we have acquired a private courier ship and we have refitted it to fit your mission profile.”  A datacard floated from the Grandmaster’s hand to Aeren.
   “You will be sent to the Mid-Rim, starting in the Bothawui system making scheduled stops upwards towards Contruum.  You will have two ID codes: one is a code IDing the ship as the Extravagance and the other IDing the ship as Republic Special Transport Alpha Three One Two.”  Two more datacards floated in the air, one to Aeren and the other to Devin Vincenz.  The Zabrak spoke.
   “There are several ongoing and planned assignments along your scheduled route.  You will be backup to those assignments at their most critical points.  Timing is important, if you’re behind schedule by more than four hours it may be pointless.  You will put in to each port call as the Extravagance.  You may disembark and meander around the docking area but do not stray too far.  The second ID code is important; it will give you special access, special priority at any Republic or otherwise affiliated station.  All the assignments plus a few others have an emergency contact frequency that links to a Holocomm relay and from there to you.  If any assignment declares an emergency, you have authorization to divert first and then establish communications with the Council.  Once you have relayed the nature of the emergency the Council will determine whether your presence is necessary or if someone else can be dispatched.”  Vincenz swallowed almost audibly.
   “What kind of assignments would need to declare that kind of emergency,” he asked.
   “Without giving you details, we have several members of the Order participating in strategic and vital negotiations as well as others providing aid where needed,” answered the Grandmaster.
   “When do we leave,” Aeren asked.
   “Tonight, in three hours you will have a launch clearance window for rapid departure as Alpha 312,” answered the Zabrak, “after you pass into hyperspace, you will change the ID to the civilian codes.”
   “Silent, invisible, discrete,” said Aeren, turning to face Vincenz, “what kind of civilian ship did you procure for those qualities?”  Vincenz just grinned.

   “Gentlemen, meet the Extravagance,” Vincenz’s voice boomed in the Jedi Temple’s hangar.  “She’s a Barloz-class Freighter with a few upgrades that are not visible from the outside”  Vincenz guided Aeren and Phylo around the ship.  It was dark brown in color, repainted in the past five years.
   “Stock models have rated atmospheric speed of 850 kilometers per hour,” Vincenz continued, “the techs here and I have changed that to 1,150 KPH.  A Class-1 hyperdrive and a sublight range of 800 hours give us plenty of range and speed.  The laser cannon at the rear is military grade and sits on a dedicated anti-fighter platform.  Cargo capacity has been halved to 40 tons due to shield, engine, and fuel upgrades.  I plan to maintain a cover of a discrete shipping service of small, low mass cargo.  We’ll be able take three additional passengers if necessary and I have installed an emergency medical suite complete with a med droid.”
   “Impressive,” Aeren said with a smile, “you’re definitely not gonna miss that shuttle are you?”
   “No sir,” Vincenz said emphatically, “that shuttle is a tinder box waiting to catch fire compared to this beauty.  Our shielding has a “civilian” setting that maintains our cover as a civilian ship.  Flip that to full power and we can take hits from a battlecruiser.”
   “I certainly hope we won’t have to test that out,” said Phylo.  He simply did not understand why people gushed over manufactured pieces of metal and ceramic.  He was only interested in getting to the destinations.  Vincenz took them inside the ship and led them to their cabins.  He let Aeren take the captain’s cabin while he took the copilot’s cabin.  Both of those rooms were fairly spacious for a small ship like the Extravagance.  Phylo settled himself into one of the passenger cabins near Aeren and unpacked his duffel into the drawers.  The comm panel near the door beeped.
   “Yes,” Phylo said after tapping the panel.
   “Come to the cockpit.  We’re taking off in three minutes,” said his master.  Phylo shucked his outer robe and reseated his lightsaber on his belt.  He walked the short distance from his quarters to the cockpit.  Vincenz already sat in the pilot’s chair with Serus sitting in the co-pilot’s chair.
   “Phylo, please the take the communications station,” requested Vincenz, “as soon as we clear the atmosphere, check the Holocomm cache for any messages before we jump to hyperspace.”  Phylo sat down and engaged the safety harness.  The screen of the comm station switched from standby mode to active with the press of a button.  During the ten seconds it took to refresh its program Vincenz had lifted the transport off the landing platform and accelerated away.
   “Air Control, this is Republic Transport Three-One-Two Alpha.  Requesting a flight path,” Vincenz said into his headset microphone.
   “Three-One-Two Alpha, turn to 272 degrees, 80 degrees up angle.  You are clear for full speed exit.”
   Roger that, Three-One-Two out.”  Vincenz turned the ship to port to the designated heading and hauled back on the collective.  The nose rose up sharply and Vincenz shoved the throttle forward to the stops.  The sudden acceleration slammed all three men into their seats for a second before the gravitational compensator kicked in and the g-forces dissipated.  Phylo located the correct message cache within a Holonet satellite orbiting Coruscant.
   “No messages waiting, Master,” Phylo reported.
   “Very well then,” Vincenz said as he reached for the hyperdrive throttle, “here we go gentlemen.”  He pulled the lever back and the stars streaked white lines as the hyperdrive in the rear hummed to life.  Within moments the familiar blue-white tunnel of hyperspace spun before them.

[gebhac]

Here is the second segment.  Once again I hope you enjoy.

By her reckoning they were halfway through the caverns, encountering only a two squads scattered at somewhat defensible positions.  The platoon she had brought with her made short work with efficiency and professionalism.  The captain in charge signaled her over the commlink.  She met him by one of the positions where he examined one of the bodies.  He pointed at an insignia adorning the combat armor.  It was not one she wanted to see ever again.

   “I have a bad feeling about this,” Phylo said as he and Aeren stepped off the Extravagance’s boarding ramp.  The sounds of overhead speeders and transports seemed eerily familiar to Phylo, reminding him of Coruscant and its skyways.
   “I feel it too,” Aeren said in agreement.
   “What is it?”  Vincenz’s voice sounded tinny and distant through the earpieces the two Jedi wore.
   “Discontentment, unrest.  Picture a pot of water right before it begins to boil,” Aeren answered, “Phylo, stretch out.  Try to locate our comrades.”  Phylo nodded and stood still, relaxing his muscles and controlling his breathing as he sunk deeper into the Force.  The negative feelings flooded his mental senses as he surfed through the muck emanating from the population.  Minutes passed before he located two bright beacons in the Force, hazed and foggy.
   “They are six kilometers northeast, roughly twelve stories up,” he said definitively.
   “Scanning the atlas in that area,” Vincenz responded, “it’s a small commercial high rise that appears to be owned by a private security firm.  The public financial records indicate that it is reasonably successful and has been employed throughout a half dozen systems.”
   “We’ll have to get closer and investigate further,” Aeren stated, “dig up whatever you can find on the security firm.  Let us know of anything important or unusual.”  Vincenz double-clicked his microphone as he programmed his computer for the search.  The two Jedi joined the crowd on the pedestrian byways and began their trek towards the building.  The prevalent fashion on Axxila worked in their favor as most Axxilans tended to wear hooded cloaks to obscure their identity.
   “We’re not far from Mandalorian space,” Phylo remarked as they moved with the crowd.  “Could there be a connection?”
   “Assume nothing but expect everything.  Relations between Mandalore and the Republic have been stable for some time.  The connection is unlikely but not impossible.”  The walk stayed silent for four kilometers.
   “I’ve got some more data on the security firm,” Vincenz reported over the commlink.  Aeren and Phylo kept on walking as he spoke.  “At least one hundred employees are located at this building which serves as the Axxila branch and corporate headquarters.  Some holo footage indicates that they train in Mandalorian battle tactics as well as many others.”
   “Nearly every military incorporates Mandalorian tactics now,” Phylo said, “it’s not indicative of a Mandalorian presence or connection.”
   “The weapons they use must be a private or new design,” Vincenz continued, “I’ve never seen them before.  They look like very short rifles.”
   “Urban combat weapons,” Aeren replied, “small, powerful and modular.  I imagine the branches on forest worlds use a long rifle variant.”
   “They all carry weapons.  Even the receptionists and assistants.”
   “If we get into a fight, it will a long and difficult one,” Phylo said.
   “Quiet, both of you.  We’re here,” snapped Aeren.  The building stood twenty stories high and seemed more a forbidding fortress than a public commercial building.  Curiously no guards stood at the lobby entrance as they entered unmolested.  Inside the lobby was a different story.
   The lobby encompassed the entire first story and contained small shops and food vendors of all types.  A bank of several turbolifts stood behind a ring of counter space manned by many receptionists.  At least two guards stood near each elevator and each elevator displayed two numbers on the door.
   “Each lift must go to a specific set of floors and the lobby.  Smart,” said Aeren.
   “They are in security.  What would would they be if they couldn’t secure their own building,” replied Phylo.  Aeren approached the counter near the lift marked for the twelfth floor.
   “Good day to you sir, I am Special Consul Aeren Serus of the Republic Diplomatic Corps,” he said, displaying the ID provided by that agency, “I am here to resolve a delicate matter that some other members of the Corps may have been involved in.”  The receptionist, a visibly armed human, looked over the ID and scanned it.  An affirmative sounding beep came from his countertop monitor.
   “Your ID checks out, Special Consul Serus, but I don’t see any appointments scheduled for you,” he said.
   “I see,” replied Aeren, “I’m certain you’re not cleared to speak with me about such a thing in any case.  Might I be able to meet or speak with someone who have more direct knowledge and clearance.  Maybe from the twelfth floor?”  The human male tapped a few commands into touch screen built into the countertop.  He nodded.
   “I’ve informed the administrator of the twelfth floor of your arrival,” he said, “one of her assistants will be down shortly to escort you to see her.  You will be scanned before entering the turbolift.”
   “I’m afraid only a light grade scan will be permitted,” Aeren said, “the Axxilan government and the Republic have a signed accord designating diplomatic officials exempt from any other form of search.”
   “That may be sir but we have rules here,” the man said, shifting in his seat.
   “You’ll have no troubles from us.  We’re not interested in your trade secrets nor are we attempting a prison break.  We just want to talk with your superiors and our people,” Aeren said calmly and reasonably.  The receptionist’s monitor beeped again and he relaxed.
   “The administrator acknowledges your exemption.  Please have a seat.”  He gestured toward a row of comfortable couches.  Aeren nodded respectfully and nodded to Phylo to follow.
   “That was too easy,” Phylo whispered, the Force carrying his words to Aeren’s ears.
   “Everything I said is the truth,” replied Aeren, “Axxila and the Republic have a diplomatic agreement ensuring the privacy and sacrosanctity of diplomats and messengers.”
   “And that applies to private security firms?”
   “Axxila has some fairly lax corporate rules but corporations here must obey all laws, including treaties and accords.”  They waited for ten minutes before a Bothan male appeared from the twelfth floor lift and approached them.  Aeren held out his hand.
   “Special Consul Serus, I am Deputy Secretary Hath’Fey,” he said shaking Aeren’s hand.  He shook Phylo’s as well.  “Administrator Rhea has a half hour slot available for you, if you would please come with me.”  The Jedi followed tan and white furred Bothan to the twelfth floor lift.  The guards ran a simple scanner capable of only detecting unencrypted radio signals.  The commlinks that Vincenz outfitted Aeren and Phylo with only activated on subvocal command but would record the entirety of their visit.
   “They’re secure Deputy Secretary,” the right one stated.  The three men entered the lift and Hath’Fey inserted a keycard into a slot.  The lift ascended the requisite floors in seconds.  The doors opened to reveal a hallway full of doors and opaque windows.
   “The twelfth floor is our detainment and debriefing section,” said Hath’Fey as they followed him.  “While we do not actively engage in bounty hunting there have been more than a few actual criminals that our security associates have apprehended.”  He stopped at a door and typed a code on the keypad.  The door opened and he ushered them in.
   “Special Consul Serus, this is Madam Administrator Rhea,” said the Bothan.  Aeren and the woman shook hands briefly.
   “Special Consul, what can I do for you,” she said after they took their seats, “I have only a short time before my next appointment.”
   “Two days ago we received a message from fellow agents of the Republic Diplomatic Corps saying they were about to be arrested.  My assistant and I were the closest to assist,” Aeren explained.
   “Yes, the Axxilan government tasked us to apprehend what they claimed were two highly armed and dangerous criminals that had been fomenting dissent and organizing possible revolutionary assemblies,” the administrator responded, “when our associates made the arrest they only found two diplomats.  By law we cannot ignore a directive from the government so we detained them in a debriefing suite.  They have been treated well as according to their status while an investigation is completed.”
   “An investigation into what?  Republic diplomats do not simply tramp around the galaxy fomenting rebellion against legally established governments,” Phylo snapped.  Administrator Rhea looked apoplectic.
   “My assistant is bit more blunt than I am, Madam Administrator, but I echo his sentiments,” said Aeren.
   “I could transfer custody over to you but your ship would be subjected to a grounding order for the remainder of the investigation.”
   “We’ll give you three days to complete the investigation and present charges,” stated Phylo, “after that we are leaving, grounding order or not.”
   “You cannot dictate to a sovereign government,” Rhea said, her voice rising.
   “No we cannot,” said Aeren.  The administrator crossed her arms victoriously.  “But there is much leeway when dealing with a corporation, even one under orders from a government.  Everything from the arrest to the investigation has been done by this corporation.  That gives us plenty of leeway to dictate to you.  Now I want to speak with the two agents you detained while you arrange for the custody transfer.”  Aeren and Phylo stood and waited for the woman to give the order.  Hath’Fey looked at her and she nodded.
   “You do not want make her an enemy,” Hath’Fey said as he led them to the proper room, “she has a direct line to the government and the will to use it if necessary.”  He keyed the door open and the two undercover Jedi entered.
   Shock ran through Phylo when he saw Jedi Master Iggn Dar and her Padawan, Kae Pavlar.  He felt a similar jolt pulse through his Master that quickly subsided.  Master Dar looked as if she were expecting them and Kae looked perplexed.
   “Special Consul Dar, I’m pleased to see that you are well,” Aeren greeted, “and who is your companion?”
   “Junior Consul Kae Pavlar, at your service,” Kae replied.  Phylo noticed Master Dar’s demeanor shift slightly and a faint sense of irritation and disappointment lingered through the Force.  Aeren shook her hand and returned his gaze to Master Dar.
   “I have spoken with Administrator Rhea.  She is arranging for you and Miss Pavlar to be transferred to my custody aboard our ship,” he said.
   “And what of the ridiculous investigation?”  Iggn Dar seemed clearly peeved over the nuisance.
   “I have given them three days to complete it,” he answered, “after which we’ll take our leave and return you to Coruscant.”  The older Jedi nodded silently.  Hath’Fey reappeared with a datapad.
   “This is the transfer order for these two,” he said.  He touched the screen and a second legal document appeared.  “This is the grounding order, valid for three days, after which you will have immediate clearance to leave Axxila.”
   “Thank you Secretary Hath’Fey,” Aeren said, “I only wish our overall experience here was as pleasant as you with us.”  Hath’Fey nodded and led them to the lift.
   
        Exiting the building took less than a minute and not one were accosted or bothered in any way.  Aeren took it as a good sign.  The group of four Jedi silently walked back to the Extravagance.  Not more than a kilometer from leaving the building Master Dar spoke.
   “They’re following us,” she stated.
   “They’ve been following us since we left, Master Dar,” Phylo replied respectfully.  Iggn Dar nodded approvingly.  “There are two groups of three on either side of us plus a pair in a speeder above us.”
   “Your assistant is most observant Consul Serus,” Master Dar noted, taking care to keep their current cover.  Aeren nodded and kept walking.  He just wanted to get back to the ship where they could speak freely.
   A deafening thunder crack occurred above them and bits of hot metal and ceramic rained down.  The pedestrian crowd went wild and stampeded in all directions.  Blaster fire sounded all around the Jedi.  A cacophony of snap-hisses erupted as all four drew their lightsabers and began picking off blaster bolts.
   “Tactical withdrawal to the ship,” Aeren shouted to Phylo.  Phylo leapt out executing perfect Shien technique against the blaster fire directed towards them.
   “There are two sources,” Dar said, “they’re firing at each other and at us!”
   “Master get them moving, I’ve got the rear guard,” Phylo shouted.  Aeren pulled the older Master with him and began to run.  He heard a muffled explosion followed by the shriek of a missile behind him.  The missile fell short and exploded into the street.
   “Vincenz, we need extraction.  Ping the comms for our location,” Aeren shouted.  Vincenz had been a step ahead of Aeren, priming the engines and engaging the repulsorlifts.  A blue dot indicating his comrades position appeared on his sensor screen, two kilometers away.  He pushed the throttle forward and searched for a landing spot.
   “I’m landing five hundred meters from you.  Nothing else is closer,” he reported.  Aeren could only grunt in reply as he guided Dar and Kae to meet Vincenz.  Phylo kept a short distance away to keep their assailants at bay.
   “Master, I’m gonna need some help here,” Phylo shouted again.  A blaster bolt had singed his shoulder, slowing him down just enough to cause difficulty.
   “Kae, take Master Dar and keep going.  You’ll see a Barloz transport landing shortly.  The pilot is Vincenz, get aboard and signal us when you’re there.”  Kae nodded breathlessly and herded her Master away.  Aeren dived into the Force and reached Phylo in short order, his blade humming angrily as he swept it through impossibly fast arcs to pick up Phylo’s slack.
   “Thanks Master,” Phylo said as he slowed down to prevent further damage to his shoulder.
   “They are advancing.  Both groups and they are concentrated on us,” Aeren said.  An explosion blasted behind him, from the direction the ship was coming from.
   “I can’t land there anymore.  Somebody just fired a bunch of missiles at the patch of ground I was aiming for.  There’s too much rubble to land safely.”
   “We’ll get Dar and Pavlar, just find a new place to pick us up,” Aeren replied.  Aeren and Phylo ran as fast as they could to find their fellow Jedi.  A surge of surprise in the Force hit them.  A fierce determination followed it.  They found Kae wielding two lightsabers, hers and Dar’s, over the supine form of Master Dar.  Intense blaster fire came from an unexpected direction and she reflected as many as she could back towards the source.
   “Phylo, grab Master Dar and take cover.  We’ll have to make a stand here,” Aeren order.  Just as he spoke a half dozen armored figures rushed around the corner of a building towards them, blaster rifles firing.  Aeren moved next to Kae and let the Force flow into him like a dam bursting.  He would later have a vague recollection of what happened next.
   The armored assailants foolishly moved close enough for the two Jedi to sweep through them quickly.  A dozen more took their place and they took up cover where they could.  Aeren grabbed a fallen rifle from the ground and began returning fire while simultaneously deflecting their shots.
   “There’s a speeder coming up behind you, moving to engage,” Vincenz called over the comm.  Aeren had never heard a ship’s laser cannons fired in an atmosphere until Vincenz fired the ones on their ship.  A few pulses of loud noise was quickly followed by an explosion.  “Damn, there’s another coming from the other side.  Not gonna catch it in time.”  Aeren heard the telltale sounds of more missiles being fired.  Seconds later those missiles began exploding all around them.  He felt Phylo’s fear echo through the Force and disappear into nothingness, Iggn Dar’s presence violently faded as well.
   “I’m coming in.  You’ll have to jump onto the ramp,” Vincenz said.
   “Kae, the ship is coming.  Twenty seconds,” said Aeren.  By now blaster fire came from all directions.  Aeren and Kae stood back to back, both entrenched within the Force.
   Aeren, being the more experienced Jedi, felt it first.  Their deflections and parries synchronized in a way only advanced Jedi could make happen under ideal conditions and they were doing it in a highly intense situation.  Kae noticed it a second later, the surprise quickly becalmed by Aeren’s presence in the Force.  The Extravagance roared above them, the boarding ramps lowered.  The back blast from the repulsors caused dust to cloud the area.  Aeren shut down his lightsaber and grabbed Kae around the waist, throwing her up towards the ramp.  He leapt and allowed the Force to carry him higher than humanly possible.  Vincenz retracted the ramps as soon as they both crashed onto them.  He pointed the ship skyward and throttled to full power.  Aeren succumbed to the blackness of exhaustion.