Jedi Trial

O
bi-Wan!” Anakin Skywalker exclaimed when the hologrammic image of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared before him. Anakin had been pacing in his quarters, brooding over why was he consistently being passed by for his Jedi Trials, the chance to prove he was a full Jedi Knight. The welcome sight of his teacher lifted Anakin’s mood.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, greeting his Padawan with a smile. “How are you settling in?”

Anakin shrugged. “All right, I guess.”

Obi-Wan’s smile turned wan. They had returned to Coruscant only two standard days earlier, but he was fully aware of how long two days without action could seem to Anakin. He knew his Padawan would not be pleased by the news he was about to break. “I just returned to my quarters from a meeting with the Jedi Council,” he said.

Anakin’s eyes brightened: a meeting with the Jedi Council must mean a new mission.

“I have an assignment—”

“Already?” Anakin interrupted, excited. “We haven’t even been debriefed from the last one yet! Must be important.”
He turned away to begin reassembling his gear and clothing.

“Anakin—”

“I’ve barely begun to unpack—I can meet you at the spaceport in an hour.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan tried again.
“Anakin!”

Anakin didn’t turn around. “Where should I meet you?”

“ANAKIN!”

Obi-Wan’s shout finally caught Anakin’s attention and he spun about, taken aback by the unusually harsh tone. “Master?”

“Sorry I shouted, but you weren’t hearing me.”

“Master? I’m listening.” Anakin used all his self-control to stand still and wait.

“
I
have a mission, Anakin. Not us. The Jedi Council is sending me alone. It’s an individual assignment, a quick in-and-out.”

Anakin was clearly trying not to frown. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he couldn’t help asking.

“You’ll be debriefed on our last mission, for one thing. I’m trusting that to you.” Obi-Wan sighed. “When I get back, I’ll suggest to the Council that you’re ready to begin your trials.”

“Don’t you mean suggest
again
?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “First there was no point, and then there was no time. But as soon as I return, I’ll
make
the time—and the Council will listen.”

“Why will they listen then, when up until now they haven’t even wanted to hear?”

“Because while I’m gone, you’re going to be the
model Jedi Knight. You’ll allow them to debrief you, and then, if I’m not back yet, you’ll hit the archives, looking for any strategies that can be deployed in planning our upcoming battles. You’re going to show them that you are skilled in a Knight’s most basic role, as well as in combat,” Obi-Wan said confidently.

“Study.” Anakin’s voice was flat. “All right, I’ll study.”

“I’ve got confidence in you, Anakin—you know that.”

“Yes.” Anakin’s expression softened. “I know you do, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.”

Three days later, Anakin Skywalker flipped his datapad off. He’d spent the time since Obi-Wan had left in the library studying the campaigns and battles of the Clone Wars—and had discovered a few possibilities. He headed for the training area. Maybe he could find someone to spar with, to balance his inactivity.

The war was a severe drain on the Jedi resources, and nearly every physically able Jedi was away from Coruscant on a mission or campaign. Anakin found only one Jedi in the training area, Nejaa Halcyon, drilling with his lightsaber.

Anakin had met Halcyon once before and found him to be not only intelligent and witty, but also a tactically sound Jedi. Obi-Wan had assured him his impression was accurate. And yet Master Halcyon had been living in a state of semi-disgrace after losing his ship,
Plooriod Bodkin
, to a rogue ship’s captain he’d been sent to apprehend. Anakin could only wonder how Halcyon
had blundered so badly that his starship was stolen by the rogue he was supposed to arrest; he hadn’t felt right about asking.

Moving with total focus and concentration, Halcyon was a pleasure to watch. Loath to interrupt him, Anakin remained on the side, waiting for him to pause.

At last Halcyon thumbed his lightsaber off and stood erect. He glanced over at Anakin and grinned. “Anakin Skywalker! Looking for a sparring partner?”

Anakin started briefly. “You honor me,” he said with a slight bow.

Halcyon laughed. “Honor you? That means either you’re surprised I remember your name, or you’re surprised that a Jedi Master is so readily willing to spar with a Padawan he barely knows.”

“Perhaps both?” Anakin grinned back at the older man.

“Of course I remember your name. There are so few Jedi here these days, it’s easy to remember everyone. And of course I’m happy to spar with you. You’re freshly out of combat, your reactions are sharp. I’ve been sitting idle for quite a while—I need the test.” He gestured an invitation, and Anakin entered the sparring circle.

They faced each other and saluted, then took position and thumbed their lightsabers to life.

Anakin made the first move, a thrust that started high before plunging downward to dip under an anticipated high parry. The blades of the lightsabers sizzled as Halcyon easily deflected the thrust, laughing when he danced aside.

“You surprise me,” Halcyon said mock-seriously.
“That’s such a basic move. I’d have thought you’d have some new ones from being in combat.” He launched a flurry of thrusts and slices of his own; Anakin easily parried or deflected all of them.

“Master Halcyon,” Anakin said when they stepped back, “in a fight, one seldom has time to invent new maneuvers. The tried-and-true movements are usually the most effective.” He reached out with his lightsaber to touch Halcyon’s, then spun the tip of the blade in an unorthodox backhand that would have cut through Halcyon’s left shoulder had he not stopped short—and had Halcyon failed to fall back out of the way in time.

“Very good, Padawan.” Halcyon nodded with approval. “That was so close I’m not sure whether or not it counts as a touch.”

Anakin grinned. “You don’t have time to invent in a fight—but sometimes you have to improvise.”

Then they settled into serious sparring.

The two Jedis’ lightsabers flashed and sizzled when the blades struck in thrust and parry. When first one, then the other found his way through the other’s defense, the shimmering light stopped just short of striking. The two Jedis’ voices rang with pleasure at each skillful move.

After an hour of sparring, they stopped by unspoken mutual agreement. Both gleamed with sweat. Both were laughing.

“Ah, yes,” Halcyon said happily, “a sparring partner makes the workouts much, much better.” He eyed Anakin. “You’re very skillful for someone so young.”

Anakin’s eyes sparkled. “Master Halcyon, I must
compliment you on
your
skill, which is remarkable for such an old man who has been sitting idle for so long.”

“Ungrateful pup!” Halcyon snarled, and immediately laughed. “Shall we do it again tomorrow?”

“Sounds great.”

“Same time, same place.”

“With pleasure.”

Jedi Master and Padawan saluted each other before heading their separate ways to bathe the sweat and salts from their tired bodies.

T
here was no word from General Khamar.

Ice-cold prickles of fear shot up the back of Reija Momen’s arms to her scalp and then down her spine. She shivered, then shifted uncomfortably.
This is no time to panic
, she thought.

Everyone else was looking to her to remain calm. So she’d come out into the garden early, to relax, to gather her thoughts and compose herself before meeting with her staff. But it wasn’t working. The carefully tended little garden nestled peacefully in a courtyard protected from the elements by the surrounding buildings and a solar dome that could be opened in good weather. Today the dome was open, letting in fresh air that should have been invigorating, but her nerves were strung too tight. Her staff were afraid; they thought no news from the south boded ill.

Eyes closed, Reija tried thinking of home. In five more years, her contract would be up, and she would head back to Alderaan. Maybe. A breeze wafted in through the dome. It carried with it the aroma of the native grasses that grew in such profusion on the mesa where the Intergalactic Communications Center was
located. During the first months of her contract she had thought she was allergic to the sagebrush, coughing and sneezing profusely whenever she emerged from the control complex to inspect the outlying facilities, but gradually she had become accustomed to the pervasive scent. Now she found it pleasant. Physically, at least, she’d never felt better. It had become a pet theory of hers, not yet verified by medical science, that prolonged exposure to the grasses of Praesitlyn was good for human physiology.