Star Wars: Jedi Trial

by Sherman, David

  “So,” Halcyon continued, “when we got to the clearing where Slayke’s ship had landed I knew he was not aboard, and I half suspected that Grudo standing there with his knives was part of some kind of diversionary scheme. At the time I thought it was designed to draw me away from the woods where Slayke and his crew were hiding.” He laughed harshly. “But at that point I just didn’t care,” he said with feeling.

  Anakin was taken aback by the emotion in the Jedi Master’s voice.

  “Anakin, can I trust you?” Halcyon blurted then.

  The Jedi Master sounded terribly serious, and his eyes looked shadowed by sadness. Anakin wanted to tell him, Of course you can trust me, but suddenly he didn’t know if that was a reassurance that was his to give. “Go on,” he said uncertainly.

  After a moment, Halcyon continued. “You know the reason we Jedi aren’t supposed to have any emotional connections with other people, don’t you?” Anakin didn’t answer: the question was rhetorical. “It’s because emotions cloud a Jedi’s judgment, make it difficult for him to see his duty, to do the hard and difficult things he’s sworn to do. Well, I failed the test.”

  Nejaa Halcyon told Anakin about his wife and son.

  At first Anakin couldn’t speak, could only gape mutely at the man who had become a mentor. Halcyon chuckled and tapped Anakin under the jaw.

  “Dropped so fast I thought you’d dislocated it,” he said. He sighed. “So there it is. You’re the only one who knows. Are you going to tell the Jedi Council when we get back?”

  Anakin didn’t know what to say. “No,” he croaked, trying to control his voice. “I suspect Yoda already knows, or guesses. Not much gets by him.” Then guilt and honesty overcame him. “Besides, if I report you, you can retaliate by reporting me,” he said all in a rush. And then he told Halcyon about his marriage to Padmé.

  It was Nejaa Halcyon’s turn to gape. When he could talk again he said, “Married? You?” He shook his head wonderingly. “So you married her when you went to Naboo together, didn’t you?” he said slowly. “And even Obi-Wan doesn’t know?”

  Anakin reddened as the shame of his lie rose up from its hiding place deep in his heart. “It has been…difficult,” he admitted. “Obi-Wan is my Master—and my friend. I hate lying to him!”

  Halcyon just nodded. “I know, I know. We have gone against everything we have ever been taught—against what it means to be a Jedi…” His voice trailed off.

  “But it doesn’t feel wrong!” Anakin burst out. “I mean—the dishonesty, yes, but not the love! Not the caring! I feel no less a Jedi for my love of Padmé!”

  “I, too, have struggled with that.” Halcyon frowned. “I wonder sometimes if Yoda does know about me—about us. But if that’s the case, then why did the Council pick me to lead this expedition? And why did they allow me to take you as my second in command, when they knew it would throw us together—two who share such a secret? It’s not because we were the only Jedi available. There were others at the Temple—or they could have recalled some from other commands. So why do it this way?” He looked at Anakin, and his shoulders straightened. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think we’re being given a chance to prove ourselves—they as much as told me that. And I’ve come to think this assignment may be more of a trial even than that.” He seemed to be about to say something more, then clamped his mouth shut and stood up. “It’s about time for you to shove off, young friend.” He stood. “Time to show them all what we’re made of.”

  “I guess so.” Anakin also stood, and as they shook hands warmly, he wondered what greater trial the Council might have in mind.

  15

  Attack! Attack! Attack!” Tonith pounded the control panel. “Attack all along the line! Throw in as many battle droids as we need to break their defenses! We’ve already captured their forward bastion; press on now, press on!”

  Tonith had established his command post near the communications center on the plateau that overlooked the battlefield. This gave him a commanding view of what was going on, while it placed him and his staff far enough behind the lines to avoid serious danger from the fighting.

  “But Admiral,” B’wuf, the senior control technician protested, “we’ve already lost upward of one hundred thousand droids in our previous attacks. And we’ve taken the forward bastion twice before and lost it twice. Our losses have been enormous. I’m sorry, sir, but I seriously advise that our better course is to hold the line here until we’re reinforced, and then overwhelm them with sheer numbers.”

  “My dear B’wuf, assets that just sit in the bank only earn interest. You must invest to make a fortune.” He regarded the controller carefully. B’wuf had the annoying habit of speaking in a slow drawl, as if always looking for just the right words to express himself, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting himself into trouble. In Tonith’s experience, he was typical of the technical breed, out of his depth when dealing with anything in the real world of business affairs. This man would give in when he should stand firm, and he’d stand firm when he should give in. Tonith had dealt with his kind before, but despite his shortcomings he had his uses.

  “I—” B’wuf began.

  Tonith cut him short. “Do you own these battle droids? Did you pay for them? You’re acting as if they’re your own personal property. They’re assets, my dear B’wuf, assets in an active market and worthless unless invested wisely, do you understand? It’s my job to make that investment and yours to obey my orders. To the letter, B’wuf, to the letter. Now—” Tonith noticed that the entire control center staff had stopped work and was listening to them. “You, get back to work!”

  As one, the technicians spun back to their consoles. Tonith turned back to B’wuf. “We are being reinforced very shortly. When they arrive I want this situation cleared up. Keep your infantry moving forward, closely supported by armor and artillery—”

  “But sir, our air assets were severely depleted in the battle with General Khamar’s army. You know success is possible only if guaranteed by, well, full employment and integration of arms.”

  “They don’t have any air assets, either!” Tonith clutched his hands together in frustration.

  “But sir, our fleet—”

  “Our fleet is useless. Our ships watch theirs and none dare engage the others, because if just a few are lost, the balance of power will swing to one side or the other; and none dare come to our aid here, because if any are taken out of orbit, the other side has an advantage. Blasted credit pinchers,” he swore. “So none can interfere, we’re on our own until reinforced. When reinforcements arrive, their ships will overwhelm what’s left of the enemy fleet—”

  “But sir, we have ships blockading Sluis Van. They could lay mines and come here to—”

  “We don’t need them. Now get—”

  “But sir, for every one of them we kill, they knock out hundreds of our droids!” B’wuf protested, his face coloring.

  “Well, do the math! How many of the enemy are there? How many of our droids? Once we crack their defenses, their casualties will increase, and when they’re at last routed, we’ll wipe them out to the last fighter. Now hop to it!”

  “But, Admiral…” B’wuf drawled.

  “Blast it, stop arguing with me!” At the end of his patience, Tonith signaled for two guard droids to approach. “B’wuf, see that corner over there? Sit down there. You,” he said, turning to the droids. “If he moves, kill him.”

  “Yessir. How much movement before we kill him?”

  Tonith shook his head in desperation. “If he tries to, oh, get up, kill him. Otherwise I don’t care if he scratches his back all day long. Oh, and B’wuf, while you’re over there, keep your blasted mouth shut. Now move.”

  White-faced, B’wuf trudged over to the corner and sat down. The two droids placed themselves directly in front of him. Slowly, B’wuf raised a hand to his head and scratched. Nothing happened. He sighed.

  Tonith strode into the center of the control room. “You
heard my orders. Carry them out. As of right now I am taking personal control of all operations. Now press on, press on! Never mind casualties. A little more effort and we’ll crack their lines. Victory is almost ours!”

  A serving droid rolled up with a pot of tea. Eagerly, Tonith poured. “A spot of tea, anyone?” he asked, holding out the pot to the technicians at their arrays. Everyone pretended to be busy. “Very well.” Tonith shrugged and sipped from his cup. He grinned. His teeth were as purple as ever.

  “Eeeeyaaaaaa! Get some, get some! Come on, get some!” Erk yelled, firing indiscriminately through the bunker ports. He couldn’t miss. Every shot disintegrated an infantry battle droid. But they kept on coming, rank after rank. Artillery lanced into them, but they just closed ranks and marched forward, firing at the muzzle flashes ahead of them, laying down a withering field of fire as they advanced.

  “Erk! We have to go! They’re overrunning us,” Odie screamed, but Erk just shook his head as if she were an annoying insect and kept on firing. He had never seen such a target-rich environment, and it drove him into a frenzy of wild destruction.

  She seized him by the shoulder and tried to pull him away from the blaster. He bounced her off with his hip and kept firing.

  She could see hundreds of droids surging around their bunker. “They’re flanking us! Get off that blaster and get your belt on. We’ve got to get out of here,” she shouted. Scrabbling noises came from the bunker entrance. Odie snatched up her weapon and ran to the entrance just in time. Two droids came clanking down the short steps; she blasted them both. Erk never noticed. He yelled and cursed and fired and fired and fired.

  “Tank droids,” Odie shrieked. “Tank droids!” She could see two of them through the firing ports, lumbering along behind the infantry. The tank droids—“crawlers,” because they moved so slowly over the surface of the ground—were heavily armored, fully automated tracked weapons platforms used to support infantry in combat. Their two synchronized forward-mounted blaster cannons had a 180-degree arc of fire and were used with deadly effect on troop concentrations, vehicles, and bunker complexes. Dorsal anti-aircraft weapons and grenade launchers supplemented the cannons. Ideally they were employed in echelon, like a set of stairs, as they moved forward, the machines farther back protecting the flanks of the ones farther forward.

  The ground shook beneath the tank droids as they rolled toward the bunker.

  Odie could see the energy bolts of Slayke’s artillery being deflected off the behemoths. “Cease fire,” she yelled, beating her fists on his helmet as hard as she could—but he remained impervious to her warnings. He fired on the nearest tank droid. Immediately its blaster module swiveled in the direction of the bunker, but before it could unleash a devastating bolt, the ground behind it erupted upward and flipped it forward to land on its back on top of the bunker.

  The countermine Slayke had ordered dug beneath the Separatist mine had intersected its target and gone off just in time to break the tank droid charge.

  The last thing Odie heard before everything went dark was someone screaming.

  Slayke looked at his staff officers. “Time is very short,” he began. “I shouldn’t waste it on speeches. You all know what to do; we planned for a last stand from the beginning.” He paused. “Well, this is it,” he told them, but it was obvious to them all that their situation was desperate. Izable, Eliey, and Kaudine had fallen, and the forward artillery had been withdrawn, along with the survivors of the overrun outposts, to a line centered on Judlie, behind the main command post. This was the plan that had been prepared even before Slayke had landed on Praesitlyn. The enemy had temporarily halted their assault to straighten their line and bring up reinforcements.

  “That’s the only break we’re going to get,” Slayke said. “We’ll have time to form a last line of defense at Judlie. Withdraw your remaining forces there immediately.” He grabbed his blaster and turned away from the chart table.

  He stopped and turned back to his officers. “We all knew this might happen when we intervened. I’m sorry it did. I thought Coruscant would come to our aid. Maybe they’re on the way. No matter. We’re here, they aren’t. When help does arrive we’ll have worn these nerfs down to the point where a single Jedi Padawan will be able to kick them to pieces.” He paused. “Surrender is no option for us, not against this army, we all know that.” There was one more thing he had to say to his comrades. “If we’ve got to die, this is as good a place as any. I am proud to have had the privilege of leading you, of sharing your hardships and your friendship, and I am blessed to have people like you accompany me into the next world. Let’s not go easy.”

  The dozen officers gathered around the chart table snapped to attention, raised their right fists, and shouted, “Oooorahhh!”

  Erk slowly became aware of an enormous pressure squeezing down on him. He opened his eyes, but couldn’t see anything. Was it was pitch dark, or had he been blinded? Fighting panic, he managed with difficulty to free his arm from the debris pinning it to the bunker floor and brought his wrist in front of his eyes. His chrono glowed comfortingly in the dark and he sighed in relief—he hadn’t lost his sight. It was difficult to breathe with that weight pressing down on him. He moved, and the load shifted and groaned. It was Odie—she slipped off to one side, and the two or three large rock fragments that had been pinning her onto him rolled to the floor.

  “Oof.” He could breathe again.

  Odie groaned. “Th-thanks for getting us killed,” she gasped at last.

  At first Erk didn’t know what she meant. Then: “Oh, yeah. I got a lot of them, didn’t I?” He flexed his arms and legs and sat up. Despite multiple bruises and contusions he was still in fighting order. He felt around in the dark, found Odie, and lifted her by her armpits. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Uhn. I have a big, er, feels like a big bruise on my hip. Otherwise—” She ran a hand through her hair and over her head. “—I think I’m all right.” What felt like blood crusted one side of her face. With her fingers she could feel a big gash on that side of her head. “We must’ve lain here for a while,” she said, experimentally feeling the gash. “The blood’s clotted.” She felt around her equipment belt and unhooked the glow rod fastened to it. She pressed the activation stud, and the bunker filled with blessed bright light. That was the good news. The bad news was that the blast had caved in the front of the bunker and loosened a huge slab of rock in the ceiling that had broken into two fragments when it fell, imprisoning the pair inside a space that tapered, like a rocky tent, to about two meters high and three meters wide at the floor. Odie pressed a hand against the rock. “It’s as solid as—rock,” she said. “We’re lucky it didn’t fall right on top of us, or we would have been squashed.” She pressed her hands against one slab and pushed. “It seems solid enough now, though. Must be gravity and resistance are keeping them upright.”

  “Well, we’re not squashed. We have air, and we’re secure and comfortable in this rocky bower,” Erk commented wryly.

  “Seems we’re spending a lot of time underground together recently.”

  “Yeah. That’s the only way I can manage to find some time alone with you. How long will that glow rod last?”

  Odie shrugged. “It runs on power cells. I recharged it maybe ten days ago, and I don’t think I’ve used it much since. I should be good for seventy-five or a hundred hours.”

  “We’ll be out of here long before then.” He picked up his helmet and tried to put it on. No good: when it had been knocked off his head, debris had smashed it. He shook it experimentally, then turned to Odie. “Try yours.”

  “I would, if I could find it.” She looked around the confined space. “It’s probably under that rock somewhere. Fine. We’re without communications with the command post. If it still exists.”

  “It does. Count on it. All right, you’ve kept me in suspense long enough. What’s your plan for getting us out of here?”

  She sniffed. “Well, we both start whistling as loud as
we can, and when we reach the right pitch of sympathetic vibration the rock will just crack open and we’ll emerge into the sunlight, like insects coming out of a chrysalis.”

  Erk stared at her for a moment and then broke into laughter. She joined him. They laughed until the dust floating in the air made them cough.

  “I’m scared,” Odie confessed after a while. “We’re trapped in here for good, aren’t we?”

  Erk didn’t answer immediately. She had expressed his own fears. “Well, I guess we are sealed in here,” he said after a slight pause, as he pressed a hand against the rock slab.

  “The Republic never did send anyone, did they?” Odie asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “They sure weren’t here when we needed them.”

  “We’re going to die in here, aren’t we?”

  “Sure looks like it.” With a sigh, he reached down and took her hand.

  “We’ll die of thirst before we starve, won’t we? To think of all we came through to end it like this.” She couldn’t keep the bitter taste of despair out of her voice. She turned the glow rod off to preserve its power.

  Hours passed in the darkness. They whiled away the time reminiscing about better times, friends and relatives, music they liked, their homes, fine meals they’d eaten. Erk was the more experienced in the world through his travels, and he was a good raconteur: he made Odie laugh with his wild tales. They ate the remainder of the small allotment of rations the sergeant had given them when he’d dropped them at the bunker. At least they each still had a full canteen of water.

  They were quiet for a time after they ate and quenched their thirst. Then Erk drew Odie closer to him and kissed her. They held each other tightly, until fear and exhaustion overcame them and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.