With a metallic crunch, the assailant’s cybernetic arm crumpled and imploded, a mixture of gasses and sparks causing a brutal explosion that sent Chell Raddus tumbling backwards. If his eyes hadn’t been closed, he was sure the horrific sight would be seared into his mind forever.
After a moment of silence and calm, Chell opened his eyes. His vision was skewed with tears and inflammation, but he had felt the pain wash away about a minute prior and knew he could finally rely on his sight once again.
He sat up in a large patch of singed grass, seeing the smoldering remains of his attacker a few meters away.
“Well done, young one.”
In a frazzled daze, the young Mon Calamari jumped to his feet and spun around, ready to begin scrapping all over again.
Instead, he was met by the comforting gaze of his Tarsunt Jedi Master.
He blinked his eyes and looked towards his Master, a number of emotions and questions filling his head.
“Where… where were you?”
The older Jedi simply pointed towards a winding tree on top of the nearby hill.
“And you didn’t think to help me?”
“What would be the lesson in that?” Master K’batha sighed, “that you will always have to rely on me for help? That would be most counterintuitive to everything I came here to teach you.”
“So you knew she was here?!” Chell exclaimed in distress.
“She’s been following us since we stopped to refuel,” he replied, stroking his beard as he glanced at her body.
Chell simply stood there in shock. He knew his Master was crazy, his reputation had always preceded him, but to this extent he had absolutely no idea.
Should this whole thing reinforce my trust in him, or fuel my theories on how his other apprentices died?
“General K’Batha, General Raddus!”
Clone Commander Frank reached their position, surprise and wariness evident in his every movement as he scanned the area, dual pistols at the ready to take out any additional assailants. But based on his Master’s nonchalant attitude, Chell knew the fight was already over.
“What happened here?”
The old Tarsunt let out a raspy chuckle, “It’s alright Commander, nothing that my young apprentice here could not handle. I believe you’ll find what’s left of a bounty hunter over there.” He pointed a wrinkled finger towards the smoke still rising from the Frenk’s body.
Then his eyes drifted to the downed pilot, “help get Riggs back to the shuttle, I will attend to my apprentice. We can come back for the huntress, I highly doubt she will be going anywhere anytime soon.”
Commander Frank had already bound the hunter’s limbs and was pulling a small cloth out of his utility belt to hand to Chell. The young Jedi readily accepted his offer and began to furiously wipe at his eyes, unfortunately to little avail at this point.
With Riggs on Frank’s back and Chell supported by his Master’s surprisingly firm shoulders, the four began to make their way back towards the shuttle.
The walk felt like an eternity, but the moment the familiar Republic vessel came into view was a sight young Chell had never appreciated so much. The forward facing gangway was already deployed and Sergeant Moon was waving to them from the bottom of the ramp. Crumpled by his feet was a rather unexpected site.
“Welcome back Generals, glad to see the both of you are a-okay. As you can see, we were visited by a little friend ourselves,” Moon said, kicking the metal frame beside his boot.
Commander Frank continued, “It appears to be a lone Separatist Commando Droid that was reprogrammed to act as a Bounty Hunter. There were also reports of a recent Republic prison break involving a dozen or so Bounty Hunters caused by a droid o f this exact description, and that woman you fought happened to be Twazzi, on record as one of the many escapees among them.”
Moon butt back in, “and around the time we sent Riggs to get you, I heard something tapping on the hull of the ship. When I went to investigate, I found this clanker tampering with the fuel intakes. He was trying to sabotage the ship, but I made quick work of him so that he never got the chance.”
Riggs was just now starting to rouse, muttering phrases in his stupor that were all but indecipherable. Master Kbatha motioned to the Clone Commander, “do you think you can fly us back to Coruscant? It doesn’t seem like our pilot is quite up for the task.”
“Yes General,” the officer replied, “they taught us a little bit of everything in Alpha’s program. That includes how to fly most general-issue shuttles.”
Frank sent Sergeant Moon to go retrieve the bounty hunter before helping Riggs into the shuttle. Chell began to follow the Commander aboard, but his master grabbed him by the robe.
“What’s up, Master?” Chell asked, looking at his Master inquisitively. It was uncharacteristic of him to initiate a private conversation.
“Listen my Padawan, there is something I must warn you of,” the aging Tarsunt said in a hushed tone.
“Oh really? Like how you warned me about the bounty hunter back there?” Chell said in frustration. He was still very much irked, and not really in the mood to listen to his Masters “lessons” anymore.
“I understand your frustration my young Padawan, but that was a situation I had faith you could handle. What I’m about to tell you is much more dire.”
This statement had piqued Chell’s interest, and he now stared directly at his Master, his bulbous eyes wide with hesitant curiosity.
Before speaking, Kbatha looked around them in an almost frantic manner, definitely the most fearful Chell had ever seen his normally composed Master act.
“There is a great darkness brewing. It has been for some time, but I fear it is about to boil over, and we will all be swept away in what is to come. I took this opportunity to focus solely on your training because there is coming a time when I fear that will no longer be possible. When we are thrown into the fire, I at least have the assurance of knowing you are more than capable of defending yourself. Your academic records already told me everything else I would need to know.”
Still hung up on the cryptic statement about the “great darkness,” Chell rubbed the back of his head with his webbed, blue hands, feeling his newfound calmness on the verge of fleeting.
“Well shouldn’t we tell the council about whatever this ‘darkness’ is? I’m sure they’re more than capable of handling things.”
The Jedi Master stared unblinkingly into his Padawan’s eyes, his piercing gaze giving away the slightest inkling of terror, an emotion Chell hadn’t even been sure the Tarsunt had possessed.
“The council has already been blinded, there is no longer any hope for them for they are the ones who have grown accustomed to the darkness and have allowed it to consume the entire Republic. I have no one to tell anymore but you, Chell.”
At that moment all of the Mon Calamari’s concern was immediately cast aside, “this is because they wouldn’t let you on the council, isn’t it? Are you really that pathetic?”
Mon’grel Kbatha was clearly taken aback by his Padawan’s brash remark, eyes growing wide, and he sighed under his breath.
“No young one, this is something far greater than trivial matters such as that. I need you to understand that-“
“Enough, Master,” Chell said, abruptly cutting him off, “I think I’ve had just about enough of your perspectives and insights for today. I just want to go home…”
Chell jerked his sleeve from his Master’s grip and began to walk up the shuttle’s ramp, hearing Moon now over the ship’s comm systems reporting that he had secured what was left of the bounty hunter, and that she was just barely clinging onto life. But that’s when his master grabbed him by the arm, pulling him down eye-to-eye.
“I know it may seem like I have failed you, but I need you to know. Everything is for a purpose. A purpose you, nor even I may understand yet. But there is one thing I do understand, which I need you now more than ever to heed,” he said in raspy desperation
He then lowered his voice and looked into the shuttle, watching the Clone Commander strap the pilot into one of the seats, “trust no one. Not the clones, not the Jedi, not even me. Do that, and you may just live to see a time without war. Do you understand?”
Kbatha’s grip was hurting Chell’s hand, and he forcefully recoiled from his Master. He looked down at him, seeing nothing more than a crazed old man who had been caught up in a vast network of conspiracies and whispers. He wished he had never been chosen to be anyone’s Padawan, that he would have just been sent off to the Temple Guard or even the Agricorps instead of being given to the care of this lunatic. And with that, he turned and ascended into the shuttle, leaving his Master standing in the cold silence of the soft canyon breeze.
He gritted his teeth as he strapped himself into the shuttle, watching Commander Frank fire up the ship’s takeoff thrusters.
I’ve been chosen by nothing but an old coot. A coward. That’s all there is to it. He was not in control of that situation out there at all, and I don’t want my life in his hands anymore. The moment we get back to the Temple I’m going to put in a formal request to be removed from his tutelage, maybe they’ll even put me back in the queue for a new Master…
Chell silently observed as the Jedi Master helped Moon and the bounty hunter onboard, Kbatha buckling her in and ensuring she was still alive while the Clone Sergeant returned to drag the bounty droid onboard as well. Chell watched as his Master took extra care to confirm that the Frenk was situated comfortably, and he even began to dress her wounds.
The young Mon Calamari thought about interjecting, about berating his Master for sympathizing with a person who had quite literally just attempted to kill his very own apprentice. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, whether out of pride or even shame.
Chell took a deep breath and lowered his head, now focusing on his dirt-covered trousers. Master Kbatha was anything if not compassionate, he knew that from the bottom of his heart. He began to feel a creeping sense of guilt overshadow him, realizing that he never should have spoken to his Master in that tone or manner. But it was far too late to rectify things now, at least for today. He would wait until they returned to Coruscant where then maybe they could continue their unpleasant conversation.
Chell glanced back up to see his Master staring directly at him with a soul-piercing gaze. His tumultuous thoughts could not escape the watchful eye of the old Tarsunt. His master shot him an ever so slight grin and Chell quickly averted his eyes, now watching as the entry ramp began to rise in preparation for takeoff.
They would soon be home, and Chell could put this whole event behind him. Relief washed over him as he thought out his sparse but comfortable room and bed, the watchful eyes of the many instructors and temple guards, and the constant droning noise of ships flying past the Jedi Order’s vast fortress day and night. But his relief was plagued with the smallest seed of paranoia. Of the impending doom his Master spoke of.
Could everything I’m accustomed to really be coming to an end?
He tried pushing the thought from his head, but it clung to him like a parasite, an invasive dread that slowly corrupted his perfect thoughts of home.
The door to the shuttle sealed shut as the sound of engines roaring to life was accompanied by a low rumble and the dimming of lights.
Now illuminated by haunting low red hues, Chell looked once more around the interior, seeing the droid, the bounty hunter, the three identical men, and of course, his master.
The old man’s words continued to bounce throughout the concaves of his mind, “trust no one. Not the clones, not the Jedi, not even me. Do that, and you may just live to see a time without war.”
But these were just baseless ramblings.
Everything is going to be okay.
The Jedi weren’t going anywhere.
I can trust the Clones, my friends.
Things will keep on like they always have.
The Republic’s been around for millenia and it shows no signs of slowing down.
So yeah, everything is going to be okay.
Right?
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