Star Wars: Crucible 5-6

Chapter Five



“Where are we going?” Crijo asked, his face screwed up in a look of confusion. Again he sat in the co-pilot seat of the Vagabond, as Oden flew the ship up and away from his clan’s settlement. They hadn’t travelled very far – certainly not far enough to even make it to Kala’uun. He felt the ship slow down abruptly. He felt the thud as it settled down upon the ground and heard the whirr of the boarding ramp as it descended. He shook his head dubiously.

“Open your mind to the Force, and see for yourself,” Kan replied coolly, shutting down various systems.

Crijo cocked his head to the side, staring blankly ahead. “I can’t!”

Kan looked at him evenly. “You already have.”

The boy floundered. “I know—but that was then. I can’t now. Not just like that.”

“You will.” With that the Jedi took Crijo by the shoulder and led him out of the ship. Blistering wind assailed them both the instant they left the ship and Crijo wailed in fright. He knew immediately they were in the Bright Lands. And while he did not know exactly where they were, knowing it was the Brightlands was more than enough. He tried to turn back toward the ship but the hand upon his shoulder held on like a vice, forcing him onward.

Oden set off at a brisk pace across the terrain, up and down slopes, beneath sheer cliff-faces and between slender spires of rock, heedless of the extreme heat or the violent wind that continually attacked the pair of them. Crijo kept his face buried in the Jedi Master’s robes the entire time, concentrating heavily on just staying upright as they moved along. They did not stop for an instant, even after the wind and heat disappeared as they walked deeper into what he supposed was a great cave.

“Please tell me where we are,” the boy asked in a small voice, finally releasing Oden’s cloak as the pair came to a halt. The air was indeed much cooler and he could feel a gentle breeze on his face coming from further down.

“We are in the same cave where you found me, boy.”

The same cave? “Why are we here?” came the young Twi’lek’s next question, every bit as subdued as the first.

“Your first lesson,” replied the Jedi Master, who was not looking at the boy but ahead, deeper into the cavern. “And your first test.”

Vaade considered what he had just been told, and frowned. It made little sense to him but he wasn’t prepared to argue with the Devaronian Jedi yet. He stared into the darkness blinking, listening, and waiting for Oden to explain.

“Ahead of us the floor of the cave drops away into a deep chasm. You can feel the air blowing up from it.”

Crijo nodded apprehensively. That explains the cool breeze.

“Spanning it is a narrow stretch of rock – a bridge – likely made so by your people as a defence against intrusion.”

That also made sense.

He turned to look down at the boy who, even though he could not see the Jedi, could feel his gaze and cringed. “Here, you are going to learn to sense the Force, and through it – your surroundings. Here, you are going to prove yourself worthy of being my Padawan.”

He bent forward.

“You are going to cross the bridge.”

It took Crijo a moment to process his Master’s statement and his jaw fell open. He was dumbfounded. “I’m—I can’t see, I’m almost blind—I am blind,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Seeing is not in the eye,” Kan informed him, stepping closer. “It is in the mind. For the Jedi – seeing is in the Force. You have already done it, and you will do it again.” He thrust the boy away from him with one hand, and pointed. “Go. Cross the bridge. If you fail you will fall – to your death – therefore you should not fail.”

Crijo didn’t know what to think. He gaped blindly at his new Master, unable to focus his ruined eyes in the near darkness around them. Panic set in. “C—Cross the bridge? Cross it?!” He began to breathe erratically, his heart-rate doubling. He turned his head from left to right, his lekku whipping about his face. “I can’t cross the bridge like this – I’ll—I’ll fall! How—how can you expect me to do this, are you crazy?—”

Oden Kan’s hand lashed out swiftly and cracked the young Padawan across the head, sending him reeling into the dust. Crijo stood up again immediately, baring his teeth and snarling at the Jedi Master in Ryl. He ran forward and Kan neatly sidestepped around him, letting him fall on his face. The Jedi crossed his arms.

“I cannot teach you if you are not willing to follow. Tell me, Crijo Vaade, who is your Master?”

“You are,” muttered the youth sullenly. He stood up trying to dust himself off.

“Liar!” Kan’s hand snapped forward and clipped Crijo behind the ear with lightning speed. The boy fell over again and landed smartly on his rump.

“Wh—what?!” he stammered. “I’m not lying! You—You’re my Master!” He stood up awkwardly, one hand holding his bruised head and the other massaging his sore rear.

“Then cross the bridge,” Oden commanded imperiously, arms still folded.

“I told you, I can’t!” Crijo yelped as again he was knocked to the ground – this time with a sweeping kick to his legs.

“If you will not obey me, then you are not my student. So who then is your Master?”

“You are, Master Kan!” the boy wailed, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You are!”

“Wrong!” Kan advanced on the boy again, and sent him sprawling in the dirt.

Crijo had taken more than he could handle and with a bestial roar launched himself at the Devaronian. Kan looked at him with austere disappointment and stepped out of the way, but this time he drew his lightsaber and ignited it in a single fluid motion. He levelled the amber-hued blade at Crijo’s face before the boy could stand up again. Crijo recognised the sound of the humming blade, and the scent of ozone that accompanied it enough to know how close the deadly energy was to his skin. He went stock-still, too terrified to move.

In a calm quiet voice, Kan spoke: “Do that again and I will sever your head from your shoulders, boy. Now answer me truthfully – if you can: why did you attack me?”

Crijo babbled. “B, b, because you beat me! You... threw me down.” He still dared not move, so close was the energy blade to his nose.

Kan shook his horned head. “No, that is not the reason. Think, boy! You could have chosen not to, so why did you attack me?”

A frown dug trenches through Crijo’s brow and he sat there in silence, panting heavily. “Because...” He thought hard and then ventured tentatively, “I was angry?”

Kan kept the blade pointed at the boy’s face and then said, “And why did you not cross the bridge when I commanded you to?”

The fact that his Master did not kill him – or even beat him again – was not lost on young Vaade and he stared at the ground intently as he answered. “Because – I was afraid.”

The saber switched off and Oden Kan clipped the weapon to his belt. “A Jedi does not know fear. A Jedi does not know anger.”

Crijo hung his head, dejectedly. “Yes, Ma—Yes,” he mumbled into his chest.

“Who is your Master, boy?” asked the Jedi again, softer but no less firm than before.

The Twi’lek youth tucked his knees up toward his chin and buried his tear-stained face between them. He sat there in silence for several minutes, ready to be sent back to his father in disgrace. Suddenly he lifted his head. “Fear,” he murmured. He sounded in awe of the word even as he spoke it.

Kan waited.

“And anger,” the boy said again, after the barest of pauses. “Fear and anger. These are my masters.”

A stern frown darkened Oden’s visage even more and the boy felt it rather than saw it. “Fear and anger are of the Dark Side. If that is the path you seek, then they will lead you straight to it.”

Kan brushed at his cloak and Crijo expected him to take out his lightsaber again and kill him, but the Jedi only spoke some more. “But you are not on this path yet, boy. What must you do?” He touched the boy on the shoulder and offered his hand. Crijo took it and slowly stood up.

“I...” he paused. What must he do? “I reject them,” he said. “I choose a different master.”

Kan did not smile, but Crijo felt some of the disapproval fade from the atmosphere between them. “You can be ruled by your emotions, or they can rule you. A Jedi must learn above all things – Control. If not your emotions, then who is your Master?”

Crijo stood up fully and lifted his chin resolutely to the tall Devaronian. “I am,” he declared simply.

Kan did not reply, but instead watched his aspiring apprentice thoughtfully for several long seconds.

“And I willingly submit to your teaching – Master.” He dropped to one knee, bowing his head humbly and the older Jedi finally gave a nod.

“I accept.” He put a hand to Crijo’s shoulder. “Rise, Padawan, and do as your Master instructs.” He stepped back and looked in the direction of the bridge spanning the chasm in the caves. Crijo swallowed but he dared not disobey this time. He turned around, facing the direction in which he thought the bridge lay, took his first step...

And stumbled. A Twi’lek curse came to his lips and he picked himself up again. His father would not have been proud, hearing language like that come from his son. Crijo inhaled deeply and slowly released the breath. His Master believed he could do this – he could trust him. He had to trust him, and trust the Force. He closed his eyes and took another step – but this time in a slightly different direction. He was aware of the solid ground beneath his feet, and of the crisp, thin air that filled his lungs, and of the breeze rising up from the chasm before him, and also of his Master standing a few feet behind, watching.

He took another step.

And another.

And another.

He never lost the sensation of hard ground beneath him. Nor did he lose the feeling of wind rising up from the deadly drop on either side. The path was set before him and he was as comfortable walking it as one would a road ten metres wide – not a bridge barely wide enough for one being to cross, with no rails above a drop that would kill him long after his cries could no longer be heard.

The Padawan finally came to a halt and turned around, elation already rising within and threatening to overwhelm him. In the dim haziness that was his eyesight he could not tell the bridge from the abyss, neither could he discern the Devaronian approaching him calmly until he stood directly in front of him. It did not matter – he could sense all of it.

And he had passed the test.



Master Kan considered the boy in silence as he drew near, noting the smile on his face and then gazing back at the perilous span behind them. “The Force will serve you far better than ever your eyes did, my young Padawan. Learn to trust it and you will never feel blind again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Kan gestured brusquely with his robed hand. “Come. It is time for us to leave and start your real training.”

The boy fell in behind his Master, happy to be on his way despite the ominous tone to what he just heard. It was then that something else occurred to him.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“You said Jedi do not know fear – or anger.”

Oden nodded mutely, and continued walking.

“But everyone feels afraid or angry at some time, don’t they? Even Jedi?”

“What is your point, Padawan?”

Crijo frowned, bowing his head as he considered his response. “Isn’t saying ‘Jedi do not know fear’ almost like... lying to yourself?”

Kan stopped abruptly, and turned to the boy beside him. “Do you know why so many Jedi fall to the Dark Side? Even when they have no desire to?”

The boy shook his head.

“It is because they pretend they do not feel the very emotions that make us living, sentient beings. When anger, fear and hatred creep up into their hearts they tell themselves, ‘I do not feel this. This is beneath me.’ And so they fall before they know it, deceiving themselves. Self-deception is as much of the Dark Side as hatred.”

He began walking again, motioning for Crijo to follow. As they exited the cave he noted the boy’s immediate reaction to the harshness of the weather and nodded knowingly. “For some, the fear of falling is enough to make them fall. They do not see or admit the danger in time.”

Crijo found it difficult to hear his Master talk about fear, when every searing gale and every cloud of dust made him want to curl up in terror as they walked. He concentrated hard on Oden’s voice to distract him from his surroundings as they returned to the shuttle.

Oden watched his student closely as he continued. “Thus when the very emotions they have spent their lives denying come upon them in force—”

“They’re overcome by them,” finished the Padawan almost without thinking.

Kan nodded again, impressed. “That is why it is the easy path.” Stopping near the Vagabond for a moment before boarding, he grasped Crijo’s shoulder again meaningfully. “Surrender is always easier than battle.”

“I understand, Master.”

The Jedi Master smiled and led them up the ramp.

“Well done, my young Padawan.”



Within minutes of leaving the cave, Kan and Vaade had left behind the arid world of Ryloth itself and were soaring out into the starlit vastness of space. As the distance grew between the shuttle and Crijo’s homeworld he found himself glad to be once again out among the stars where had spent most of his childhood. He only wished he could see them.

He didn’t dare complain to his Master, though.

Once the Vagabond cleared the gravity well of the planet, Master Oden began entering in hyperspace coordinates into the vessel’s navicomputer. Something occurred to Crijo then, and he sat forward a little in his seat.

“Do all Jedi roam the galaxy as you do, Master Oden?” he asked curiously. He had vaguely wondered about it before while he was recuperating, but had not thought to ask. Now, as they were flying away, it was the first time he had the opportunity to really consider it. There were many things about Oden Kan that did not fit what he had heard of Jedi Masters.

“No,” was all that his Master said.

Crijo frowned. Should he keep pressing? He decided that if he were going to be Oden Kan’s Padawan then he should know more about him. “Why not?” He asked, resisting the urge to cringe as he awaited his Master’s response.

“Not everyone serves the Force in the same way,” Kan eventually replied. “Some believe they must stay in the Jedi Temple reading and meditating to truly understand the Force...” his lip curled as he spoke and his tone became laced with disdain. “They do not see the danger of complacency, and of knowledge without function. They sacrifice the Present to ponder the Future.” He tapped a few keys on the console and a subtle scowl appeared on his horned brow. Crijo heard it in his voice as he spoke again, “There must be Balance.”

He looked at Crijo meaningfully. “You may be blind, but you are going to see more than many other Jedi do, my young Padawan. The Force will guide us where it wills and we shall both learn much as we follow.” He turned back to the console, reaching for the hyperdrive controls even as the navicomputer completed its course-plotting.

“Where are we going?” the boy asked softly, anticipation making his brain-tails quiver.

Oden Kan pulled the hyperdrive lever and, outside the ship stars elongated into starlines as the Vagabond leaped into hyperspace.

“Everywhere.”





Chapter Six

2 Years Later (20 BBY)



Stars flashed into view outside the Vagabond as it reverted to realspace, and the Devaronian Jedi Master Oden Kan began guiding the shuttle toward the nearest planet. Crijo Vaade, his young Twi'lek Padawan, sat beside him as co-pilot, his blind eyes directed toward the emptiness of space outside. In the last two years he had discovered he did not need his eyes to appreciate the vastness and beauty of the galaxy. With his senses opened to the Force he could feel the stars as if they were a part of him, and he them. It had never ceased to amaze him no matter how much time he spent in space.

Except now.

"Why does it have to be Tatooine?" he all but whined to his Master. Like a giant dirty yellow-brown coin, the planet rose up beneath them and started to dominate the sky as the Vagabond drew closer. Crijo could already imagine the feel of the sand and the heat and it made him squirm.

Kan's top lip curled. "The will of the Force, my apprentice. Or have you forgotten that already?"

Crijo sighed. The will of the Force. Sometimes he hated hearing that. Since he had come to depend upon the Force to see, he had found himself able to function normally once more. As a result, Oden Kan often left him to do the flying. It was Kan's way of forcing him to develop his skills by trial of "sink or swim". The learning experience had been difficult - often terrifying – yet thus far Crijo had managed to keep his head above water.

Nevertheless, on rare occasions Master Kan would insist upon piloting himself. Sometimes he even refused to tell Crijo where they were going. On these occasions he would only cite "the will of the Force" as his reason and leave it at that. Crijo had begun to suspect some time ago that "the will of the Force" meant something "distinctly unpleasant but apparently necessary" and he was not often wrong. In fact, given past experience he was relatively sure that had he would have turned around and gone somewhere else had he been the one piloting the shuttle now.

He was sure Kan knew that too.

"This is Tatooine, Master," he lamented again. "You said Ryloth was an 'unfriendly place' - Tatooine is just like it, except more... yellow."

"Says the blind Twi'lek," Oden snorted as he steered the shuttle in a wide arc to the planet. "Now I have heard everything." He pointed at the desert-world below. "Use Force-Sight like you have been taught. What does that tell you?"

The young Twi'lek obeyed and let his eyelids close as the Force flowed through him. When he opened his eyes a moment later they glinted subtly and he could not only sense his surroundings, but see them as well. Objects and bulkheads appeared strangely translucent in a soft blue-grey light. When he looked at Oden Kan or himself he saw shifting colours and auras that changed according to mood, intention, and connection to the Force.

Following Kan's pointing talon, Crijo focused upon the planet that now filled the viewport and frowned. It looked very different from the yellow-brown world that hung like a dirty coin in a black star-spangled curtain. In the strange radiance of Force-Sight, its surface turned a harsh, unforgiving rust-red hue, and seethed with an ancient deep-seated anger. Crijo closed his eyes again and the world returned to darkness but for his Force-Sense.

"It is very old - and angry," he murmured uncomfortably. "Like it was wounded a long time ago, and now it's pitiless and cruel."

Oden nodded sagely, but before he could voice his agreement, Crijo cut in more brightly, "but that doesn't mean it isn't yellow - I've seen the holos."

The Master looked upward and very obviously rolled his eyes.

Impudently, Crijo ignored him and folded his arms. "You know, Master, we could always go to Alderaan instead - or even Naboo. We haven't been there yet, and they could use our help – with the war."

"Naboo..." Oden echoed quietly and for a moment Crijo thought he was going to get clouted across the head for being impertinent - it wouldn't have been the first time. Instead, Oden said, "Yes we could go to Naboo. A few months alone among the Gungans might teach you some patience."

Crijo's head came up instantly and he grimaced. Suddenly the blistering heat and sand of the planet generally regarded as the 'armpit of the galaxy' didn't sound so bad. He leaned forward and made a show of examining the ship's navigation console with his sightless eyes and asked in a small voice, "So...where are we landing?"

Oden Kan smirked. "You'll see."



The Vagabond came to rest in a rented shuttle-bay of a settlement that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Crijo had often wondered what it was that specifically led his Master to choose the planets and settlements they visited, but Oden had always been annoyingly vague about the guidance he received from the Force. Crijo knew that sometimes it was a Force-Vision that led Oden Kan to a particular place at a particular time - and on other occasions it was little more than a "gut instinct". However it happened, the ‘will of the Force’ often led them into and out of the war, seemingly at random. When asked about it, Kan had only said, You are not ready. The leading of the Force can be easily misconstrued. I do not want your judgement clouding mine.

Crijo donned a Twi'lek leather headdress that covered his head while leaving his face and ear-cones exposed. It had long straps that were wound meticulously around each of his lekku to protect them, and could be worn easily under the hood of his cloak. Then, fishing out a dark rectangular sun-visor, he fit it over his eyes and connected to the headdress. The visor was purely decorative - to hide his colourless eyes so that he could function like a 'normal' Twi'lek and not give away the fact that he was blind. Indeed, from the very beginning Master Oden had insisted that neither of them stand out in any way - especially as Jedi.

If someone does not need to know who and what we are, Oden had once said to him, we have no need to tell them. Anonymity has its advantages.

Crijo believed him. Nevertheless, he strongly suspected his Master's reluctance to identify himself with the Jedi Order largely came from his dislike of it. Oden Kan only referred to the Council or the Order when it suited him, as Crijo had quickly learned. They travelled as simple traders most often, in whatever garb suited the occasion - and the harsh weather conditions on Tatooine made protective visors, hoods and cloaks highly appropriate.

Crijo wished it weren't so.

"What's the name of this place?" he asked his Master, trying to keep the dismay out of his voice.

Kan stepped up beside him, hit the airlock release and pulled up his hood. The hatch opened and hot air blasted the pair of them. Crijo tasted sand on his lips and resisted the urge to shy away from it. "Mos Keto," Oden replied. "We are between Mos Entha and Bestine, near the Jundland Wastes."

“The middle of nowhere.”

"The right place. Come, Padawan. We have much to do."

The pair walked out of the shuttle and the airlock sealed behind them. The settlement was small compared to the notorious Mos Eisley, or even the more civilised Bestine or Mos Espa. Square-walled homes with domed ceilings built out of synstone lined the dusty streets and various critters and service droids moved about past them. That was when Crijo realised there were no people on the streets. He expanded his sphere of awareness and nodded his head to himself. They were all indoors.

Friendly place, he thought, and continued trudging alongside Oden Kan.

"Over there," Oden pointed out all of a sudden. Crijo extended his senses and a building ahead of him in the town centre glowed faintly in the same beacon-like effect he first experienced on Ryloth two years ago. "Go there and see what you can find out about a place for us to rent or buy. Nothing within the town if it can be helped."

The Twi'lek turned back to his Master. "What are you going to do?"

"I," replied the Devaronian with exaggerated emphasis, "am going to the cantina." He pointed in another direction. "There."

Vaade's mouth opened in a toothy grin. "Business, Master? Or pleasure?"

Kan gave a deep diabolical chuckle and walked away without a word.

"Both," muttered the young Twi'lek into the hot empty air and then strode off to the town centre.



Two hours later Crijo found himself sitting underneath the Vagabond waiting for his master to return. The walls of the small circular shuttle-port provided some cover from the rising winds that blew through the town. Still, Crijo sat in the sand with his back against the shuttle's forward landing gear and used his hood to hide his face from the weather.

Who would choose to live here? he wondered, just as he felt Oden’s presence coming up behind him.

"Those who have no other choice," said the Jedi Master as he stopped beside the youth, looking down.

Crijo turned his face upward toward him looking surprised and a little guilty.

Oden tsked. "Your thoughts betray you, Padawan. Stop sulking - tell me what you found out."

Vaade stood up and as he did, sand ran off his robe and into his boots. "Poodoo!" he grated through his teeth before he could stop himself, and then he cringed. Any moment now he was going to get beaten for swearing, he knew it.

Oden glared warningly. "I am sure there is plenty of that, but that is not what I sent you to find."

"Sorry, Master," Crijo mumbled contritely and dusted himself off. "No one in this town wants to talk - except to make insults." His lip twisted. "The human in the real-estate building called me a 'worthless worm-head'—”

Oden cut him off. "And what did you do about that, my young Padawan?" His voice was deceptively calm, as though he were merely asking the boy what he thought about the weather.

Crijo gave a nonchalant shrug. "I used the Force to overheat his cooling unit - it's hotter in there than it is out here." He braced for the inevitable blow across his cheek that was to come.

"I did not teach you that," Kan replied, his voice still quiet but with a distinctly sharper edge to it.

Crijo felt his Master's presence loom up menacingly beside him but for some reason he didn't back down or apologise. "No Master, you didn't - I... learned that on my own."

"Really?" came the Devaronian's arch response and Vaade nodded, looking nervous. "We will discuss how you learned this parlour trick later. Now - tell me why you did this."

Crijo turned his face toward his Master's. He couldn't see Oden's features without using Force Sight but he knew exactly how the Jedi Master felt. "Because I am not worthless," he replied simply.

Oden Kan's presence suddenly became less ominous, making the young Padawan frown in confusion. The Devaronian activated the Vagabond's cargo-bay doors and then regarded the young Twi'lek again with a level gaze. "But you did not tell him what you did or why." It wasn't a question.

Crijo shook his head, his face turned to the sandy turf. "No, Master."

Kan laid a hand firmly on the boy's shoulder, making him look up again. "You wasted your effort, and shamed yourself. If you feel the need to prove something to another being you should at least tell them." He paused. "It is good that you didn't - this time - or you would have shamed me."

Vaade winced and hung his head again.

"You have some growing up to do, boy, if you are to be a Jedi."

"Yes, Master." Crijo walked obediently into the Vagabond's cargo-hold and waited by the old G-22 landspeeder his Master kept there. He didn't know whether to feel relieved that he had apparently escaped a beating for misuse of the Force, or ashamed that he had acted so foolishly.

Oden Kan began loading supplies into the speeder and then snapped his fingers at Crijo. "Now. Children's games aside, did you find out anything useful?"

The boy climbed into the speeder and sat down quietly. "Yes, Master. There is nothing for rent in or outside the town but there are a few moisture farms near Mos Keto that are for sale. They will not accept Republic credits - only local currency."

"That will not be a problem." Kan activated the speeder and drove out of the cargo-hold, and then out of the shuttleport as the Vagabond closed and locked itself behind them. "What else?" he asked.

"There's an old hunting lodge further out to the East - but it's a ruin," said Crijo, speaking up to compete with the sound of the engines. "Too close to the Jundland Wastes and Sand People territory. No one wants it."

They exited the town and Oden Kan immediately steered the landspeeder toward the East, gunning the engine to full speed. He smiled.

"Perfect."



The landspeeder crested a dune and the jagged mountains of the Jundland Wastes came into view just ahead across the sandy seas. They had not been travelling long, yet it was mid afternoon and with the twin suns now behind them, the back of Crijo’s neck was starting to burn even through his hood. He sat forward in his seat, his mind focused directly ahead of them as far as he could concentrate. Through the Force he sensed the high rocky ridges that reminded him of the walls of a fortress, protecting the Wastes from the sandstorms of the Dune Sea. He sensed the opening of a narrow canyon in the mountains, like a breach in a city wall, and he sensed the ramshackle hunting lodge that sat perched part way up that wall partially shielded from the Dune Sea, overlooking the canyon. He sensed—

“Stop!”

Oden swerved the speeder sideways and slammed on the repulsor-brakes to bring them to a jarring halt. A distance of only a hundred meters or so lay between them and the ruined lodge, but Crijo’s face was turned towards the canyon itself, his eyes glowing very faintly with Force Sight as he stared.

Oden opened his fanged mouth as if to ask a question and then lifted his chin and nodded. He too looked to the East and the canyon entrance and frowned. “Sand People,” he murmured quietly.

The Twi’lek nodded. “It’s… a small raiding party. Banthas. They’re coming this way.” He angled his worried face to his Master. “What do we do?”

The Jedi Master switched off the engine and leaped out of the speeder, followed a second later by his bewildered Padawan. Keeping low to the ground, he led Crijo across the difficult terrain toward the canyon mouth. They dropped to their bellies in the hot sand just before cresting a small dune that provided them with the only cover available from the rocky Wastes just ahead.

Crijo fought back the rising terror that welled up inside him – it was not so much from the thought of hostile aliens drawing closer, but more from the burning heat of the suns on his back and the scorching sand against his face. He clenched his teeth and concentrated his sphere of awareness into a cone directed at the canyon. Suddenly he felt more like he was standing beside the Tusken Raiders on their Bantha-mounts, rather than lying in the sand a couple of hundred meters away.

Master Kan had his eyes closed. “Four of them and their mounts. No wonder no one lives here anymore – it is right in the path they take into the Dune Sea.”

“We live here,” Crijo lamented in a strained voice. “What are you going to do?”

The Devaronian Jedi turned his horned head to his apprentice and blinked. “Me? I am going to do nothing. You are going to get rid of them – without killing them.”

Vaade gasped and nearly ate a mouthful of sand. Spluttering incoherently he grabbed his water canteen and washed his mouth out. “Yes—Master,” he coughed. He knew better than to argue. Obediently, he willed his rapid breathing to slow, his racing heart to calm, and focused his attention on the Sand People and the landscape around them.

Get rid of them without killing them, he thought to himself dubiously. He sensed the toothy smirk on his Master’s face and frowned deeply. Fine. I’ll think of something. His senses poured over and into the rocks like water, searching for anything he might be able to use against the Tuskens. His mind touched the top of the canyon walls on either side of the raiding party and a memory sparked in his mind – a memory of rocks and lyleks… He grinned.

Crijo raised a hand toward the mountains and his spirit soared with exhilaration as the power of the Force filled him. He probed the cracks in the rocks and broke them apart, severing the ties that held the overhanging walls together above the Sand People. A series of loud cracks echoed out from the canyon and even to the sand dune where the two Jedi hid. Startled cries erupted from both Tuskens and Banthas alike as they noticed the rockslide bearing down upon them and the Banthas broke into a mad run to avoid being crushed.

Straight toward Oden and Crijo.

Master Oden leaped to his feet and dragged his apprentice forcefully up by his arm. “Hurry! They will be on us in seconds!” The soft sand gave beneath their feet with each stride, making any sort of movement difficult. Fear clutched at Vaade’s heart as they tried to escape.

“They—they were supposed to go the other way!” he gasped between breaths.

“Toward the falling rocks, boy?!” came his Master’s tense response. “You didn’t think to cause the rock-fall in front of them, did you?”

Crijo stammered, unable to think of anything to say.

Two banthas burst over the top of the sand dune that the Jedi and his Padawan had vacated only moments before. Oden threw Crijo to the ground and then dove forward, twisting onto his back to get a look at the Sand People as they rode madly past. Neither of the Tuskens saw them, they were so intent upon controlling their fleeing mounts which bore them swiftly away. A few moments later, the remaining two riders appeared over the dune, already in control of their banthas. One of them saw Oden Kan and pointed its gaffi stick at him, shouting loudly and drawing the attention of the other.

The Devaronian snarled – more annoyed than anything else – and instantly ignited his lightsaber. The amber-hued blade flashed into existence and the Jedi Master hurled it toward the shouting Tusken. The blade turned end over end, slashing through the raider’s neck and then arcing back to Oden’s waiting hand. The second Tusken had already turned its bantha and charged at Oden, forcing him to leap to the side, but the sand gave way and he could not move fast enough.

While Crijo fought with the shifting sands to stand up, he felt his Master’s imminent danger. Reacting instinctively, he thrust his hand in the direction of the charging bantha’s feet and the dune moved violently beneath it. A gaping pit in the sand opened up, swallowing one of the bantha’s legs and pitching the great beast forward into the dune. The Tusken was thrown clear over Oden’s head and then rolled end over end down the other side as its mount struggled to stand up again.

Oden Kan ignored the bantha and strode down the sand dune toward the Tusken. He did not waste any time, but stabbed the humanoid through the heart killing it before it could fight back. He switched off his saber and stood there over the body, scowling deeply as Crijo stumbled next to him.

“You—you killed him. Just like that.” He was stunned. The bantha freed itself from the sand and started galloping away, and Crijo’s attention moved from the two dead Sand People to his Master.

“It was necessary.” The Devaronian clipped his lightsaber to his belt and fixed the boy with a penetrating stare. “Because you failed.”

The Twi’lek’s jaw dropped. “Failed?! You told me to get rid of them without killing them – and I didn’t kill them!” he was going to add, ‘you did!’ but thought better of it.

The austere Jedi began striding back toward the speeder, and Crijo grudgingly followed. “That is correct,” Oden stated evenly as he walked. “But your actions put us in a position where I was forced to kill them. Learn to consider the consequences, Padawan. Today you failed as surely as if you had struck them both down with your own lightsaber.”

“It seemed like a good idea,” mumbled the youth as he climbed into the landspeeder and waited for his master. Oden Kan got in, but he did not start the engine. He looked pointedly at his apprentice in silence for a minute or more.

“What interests me more, boy, is not what you did, but how you did it. How did you cause the landslide, and how did you trip up the bantha? It was not telekinesis.”

Idly fiddling with his visor, Vaade screwed up his face in concentration. “I don’t know. I don’t have a name for it. I felt…connected with the rock and the sand and...it did as I wanted.” He shrugged. “It was the same thing in the town.”

Oden went very quiet for a few seconds. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

The boy gave it some thought. “Maybe. I think so. Once or twice.”

Kan stroked his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “I have a suspicion I know what this is… A skill called Alter Environment – and perhaps something else.” He shook his head. “We can speak of it later. For now, you can spend the rest of the day cleaning up these bodies – I want them buried properly.”

The boy nodded mutely and climbed out of the speeder. I suppose I deserve that, he mused to himself and then grabbed the supplies out the back of the vehicle.

Oden Kan fired up the engine and raised his voice. “After you have done that you will work on the lodge. I want it livable by the time I return.”

Vaade stopped short and turned around in utter surprise. “The lodge?! I—where are you going? How long will you be gone?”

The Devaronian threw him a wolfish grin. “I have business in the settlement. I will return when it is finished. If you should complete your work before I return, you will then spend your time meditating on what you have done today and how you did it. May the Force be with you.”

The repulsorlifts kicked up a cloud of sand that stung the Padawan’s face as Master Oden rocketed away. Crijo shook his head and bent to pick up the supplies. There were too many crates to carry at once, and each one of them was heavy. The lodge wasn’t far, but as he didn’t fancy making multiple trips, Crijo focused his mind and pointed at one of the crates. It slowly rose into the air and then floated up toward the nearby domicile.

Vaade grinned. The Force is a powerful ally...for hauling luggage. Trudging after the floating crate he found his attention drawn to the pile of rubble that now blocked the entrance to the canyon.

“At least he didn’t ask me to clean up that,” he whispered.