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| - Dawn found Coruscant already bustling with activity. Its surface completely covered with buildings towering kilometers into the sky, the planet was a testament to centuries of prominence as the seat of governmental power in the galaxy. Thousands of speeders and craft constantly filled the skylanes of the sleepless world with traffic. The galactic capital was uneasy with war tensions, the population seeking security in the Grand Army of the Republic and the Jedi Order. The towering Jedi temple, with its five spires, was a clear reminder of the Order’s presence and dedication to the greater good on Coruscant. Inside one of the temple’s practice rooms, sweating hard, Selu Kraen balanced himself upside down on one hand, eyes closed in concentration. Two piles of metal disks were on the ground next to him, partially depleted by the half dozen floating in the air around him. At a signal from a nearby Jedi, a spherical remote hovered into view, circling. Hovering gently, it spat a green bolt of energy at Selu, who mentally moved a disk into the path of the bolt, deflecting the blast. The remote continued to seek an opening in Selu’s defense, while Selu kept the disks moving in patterns to intercept the blasts. As Selu demonstrated proficiency in blocking the remote’s blasts, the apprentice sent another one after him. Soon, Selu had five remotes firing at him. His hand and his body shook from the effort of blocking the blasts with the disks. Some of them were only partially deflected and impacted on the walls centimeters from him. Selu realized that he couldn’t maintain his defense. With a final burst of exertion, he found a disk in the pile, lifted it, and began spinning it at increasingly faster speeds while still blocking the bolts fired from the remotes. Then, he telekinetically smashed the disk through four of the remotes, disabling and knocking them into walls. The remaining remote he shoved the other five disks he was controlling into, sending it flying back. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he opened his eyes and casually vaulted into the air to land on both feet. “Not bad, Selu. Not bad.” Serra Keto, recently promoted Jedi Knight and a good friend of Selu’s, deactivated the remotes and smiled as Selu took a small bow. “Thanks Serra. I know everything just comes so easily for you.” Selu was used to Serra’s sarcasm, usually directed at him whenever she knew she was stronger in area than he was. “No, really, I mean it. You have a gift with telekinesis. Seriously.” “Well then. Thank you, Serra.” Selu smiled and so did Serra, dimpling nicely, but then Serra’s smile turned into a smirk. “Now that you’re warmed up, how about a sparring match or two?” Selu keenly understood the reason for her smirk. Serra was the former apprentice of lightsaber instructor Cin Drallig and Serra had learned much from him. On his best day, Selu could sometimes hold her off, but he had been up early today, meditating and training, working and studying. Serra would have the upper hand and he knew it. Nevertheless, he hauled his protesting body up and squared himself into a ready stance while Serra lit both her lightsabers and assumed a double-bladed Jar’Kai stance with practice ease. Twenty minutes later, as his lightsaber went flying out of his hand for the third time and Serra pointed both her green blades at him, Selu protested. “Enough, enough! I yield!” Serra smiled triumphantly, “I’ll give you credit, Kraen. You do know when you’re beaten.” “Thanks, I think. Sometimes I think the Masters put you with me just to test my patience and humility.” “An excellent idea, Padawan, and one that I may propose to the Jedi Council, but weren’t you the one who asked for her help?” Cin Drallig’s voice came from the entry into the training room, and Selu winced. He had indeed asked Serra for her help, not the other way around. “Yes, Master Drallig.” “I have need of Serra elsewhere, but you can practice with her some more later, after you have fixed all these remotes you’ve presumably smashed into walls, at the very least.” As Serra walked to join her former master, Selu acknowledged Master Drallig and collected the remotes, taking them to a small workshop area for repairs. Even as he worked, he reminded himself that this was part of his training. Ever since Master Koon had told him that he was to take the Jedi trials soon, Selu had thrown himself into his studies and training more seriously than ever. He barely slept now, studying late into the night in the Jedi archives, pushing himself harder and harder, to the point of exhaustion. No matter—bags under the eyes and sore muscles were of little consequence to a Jedi Knight. Now, what was he doing again? Frustrated by his inability to comprehend and readily finish such a simple task, he concentrated increasingly hard on the remote, trying to remember which repulsorlift coil needed to be torqued. He was so focused he didn’t even notice the diminutive, wizened green-skinned figure on a hoverchair floating up silently behind him. Exasperated, Selu slammed the hydrospanner on the table. “A problem, have you?” croaked a familiar voice behind him. Selu jumped, startled, but didn’t turn to answer. “Master Yoda. Um, no, no problem. This repair job is just a bit frustrating. I can’t seem to figure out which coil needs adjusted.” “So old am I not to deserve even a passing glance from the young? Hmph.” Yoda poked Selu’s shoulder with his walking stick. “Sorry, Master Yoda.” Selu turned and gave Master Yoda the deference he deserved, although inwardly still fuming over the repair job. “Better, yes. Hear I do that take the Jedi trials soon, you will.” “Yes, Master Yoda. I hope to do well on them.” “Hard, difficult, perilous, the trials can be. Calm you must be, Padawan Kraen.” “Yes, Master.” With a bit of an impish sparkle in his heavy lidded eyes, Master Yoda gave Selusda a further bit of instruction. “Your eyes, too heavy are they. Barely slept you have, for two weeks, no? When completed the repairs, have you, a rest from your studies for the day you will have.” Before Selu could make a noise of protest, Yoda continued, “Even Yoda forever cannot be working. Rest, he must sometimes, and be with friends. Not too busy make yourself that cannot see around can you.” “Yes, Master Yoda.” The aged Jedi Grand Master silently turned and floated out on his hoverchair, leaving Selu to fiddle with the remotes for several more hours until they floated and moved satisfactorily. Returning the remotes to their storage bin, he sighed and tried hard not to think of all the productive things he could be doing. Wandering around the Temple proved a pleasant enough diversion, giving him time to simply observe sentients going about their business. Eventually, his meandering course took him to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The room was largely empty, although in the days before the Clone Wars, it was more heavily occupied. Now, the roar of the fountains and splashing sounds of the cascading water drowned out the few scattered conversations. With a furtive look around, Selu saw that no one else was around, and leaping lightly over the wall and over the surface of the water, he streamlined his body until he slid behind a waterfall into a crevice in the rock. The crevice was cool, with enough room for him to sprawl out comfortably, and best of all, totally obscured from view if one didn’t know about it already. As light refracted through the water danced random patterns on the gray stone, Selu sat back, satisfied. He once had spent much time in this area, but the urgent callings of war had lessened his times here until it was a rare moment when he could slip off to this corner of the temple for a respite. Jedi weren’t just needed on the battlefield, but also to do research, study, and prepare reports. The workload of the order had more than doubled, and the loss of so many Jedi at Geonosis and elsewhere was taxing. Selu suspected that the primary reason he was being promoted to Jedi Knight was because of the pressing need for more Jedi Knights rather than a sign of his development in the Force. He settled into a meditative pose, calming his mind much as if he was calming a stormy wave-tossed pool of water. Just as he had pictured his thoughts resolving into a glassy-smooth surface, he felt another presence skitter across nearby, the disturbance like a rock skipping across the surface of the water. Selu focused for a bit, and then opened his eyes to see Serra Keto looking down at him. “Serra. You surprised me.” “It’s funny, too. You looked so serene, and I hated to disturb that, but I just couldn’t help it.” “Hmph,” grunted Selu. “Oh, what’s bothering you today?” Selu was in no particular mood for polite conversation, especially not with Serra. As talented as she might be, she knew it, and consciously or not, often expressed that confidence. “It’s nothing.” “Fine, be that way. I’ll just remember that the next time you spar with me.” Selu rolled his eyes. It just wasn’t fair. He was one year younger than Serra, yet his skills with the Force just hadn’t seemed to progress as fair as he wanted. Sure, he could telekinetically move a starfighter-sized object on a good day, but that hadn’t helped him grow more attuned to the Unifying Force or out-duel most of his peers in saber combat. Selu’s lack of response miffed Serra, especially since such a comment usually loosened him up. She was well aware of his competitive, self-criticizing nature and could see it getting the better of him. “Selu, what’s wrong?” “I already said it’s nothing, Serra. I’m just tired, and I’m not progressing as much as I want to.” “Patience, Selu. Haste can lead to fear, and fear is of the dark side.” “Ugh, now you’re lecturing me too.” “I am not. Except when you need it.” Serra was indignant. “And except maybe on your lightsaber technique.” “Yes, yes, I know. It needs work. My bladework, and everything else; they all need work.” “You’re too one dimensional. You start off well, and have decent technique in the first few minutes, but then you get one-minded, either attacking or defending, but not both.” “I’m sorry—saber combat doesn’t come as easily to me as some other things.” “Well, that’s true, though you’re pretty good at telekinesis and unarmed combat.” It was not empty praise on either regard—Selu was considered better than average in both areas, one from a natural attunement and the other from practice. “Selu, have you ever considered using two blades?” “Don’t I have enough trouble using one?” “Yes, but Jedi who use two blades typically use one for parrying and the other for attacking. Might help with that one-sided nature of your style.” “I don’t know. A second lightsaber is awfully hard to handle in the off hand. Most Jedi I know don’t use two.” “Well, then how about a shoto? They’re smaller, easier to control, and you could probably even throw it.” Selu considered for a minute. Shotos, the smaller dagger-like counterparts to lightsabers, were easier to handle, despite their relative obscurity. “But then I’ll have to re-learn all the attacks, all the parries, all the velocities with two blades. I don’t have time for that.” Serra smiled easily. “Tell you what.” “What?” “You make a shoto and I’ll teach you everything you need to know about how to use it.” “But what about Master Drallig? All your classes?” “I’ll tell Master Drallig that I’m taking a break to focus on another area for a bit. Just leave it to me.” “Well . . . you’d do that for me?” “Sure I would. You’re my friend, even if I do beat you terribly when we spar.” “In that case . . . I accept. And thanks.” “You’re welcome, Selu.” As the two sat in the cool crevice and the drops of water reflected rays of light into their hideaway, the rest of the Temple continued about its business, ever vigilant guarding against any outside threat. However, for the moment, the two young Jedi were free to simply drink up the peaceful moments spent idle. Months later “You will be placed in a room for seven days. You will not eat, drink, or sleep. You will meditate on the Force. You will endure whatever conditions are set upon you. You will not speak to anyone. You will not see anyone. When you have found what it is you are looking for, you will be given further instructions.” Selu Kraen sat cross-legged in a small room in the Jedi Temple, behind a locked door, eyes closed, meditating. Those instructions had been given to him by the Jedi Council, by senior Council member Master Windu after he had successfully repeated the Jedi Code. They, and his Master’s wish that the Force be with him, had been the last words he’d heard from anyone in almost seven days. Since then, he’d done little but meditate, searching the Force. Though his awareness of its currents had increased in the past few months, the past few days had revealed nothing especially significant to him. To make matters worse, the powers that be had apparently seen fit to alter the environmental controls on the room, ranging from freezing cold to parching hot. In addition, the room was featureless and empty, with no variety or decoration, just a bland earthy-colored duracrete wall, and three others like it. The hours dragged by slowly, and with only his Jedi tunic for attire, Selu had no idea of the time in the windowless room. He would spend hours at a time meditating on the Force, take breaks and exercise, and then meditate some more. He was bone-weary, but the fact that he knew was being observed forced him to stay awake, stay focused, and keep his mind off the gnawing hunger. Selu Kraen let his thoughts flow back into the Force, but instead of looking throughout the galaxy, trying to see the past, the present, or the future somewhere as he had been since he’d been in the room, he decided to focus his senses on himself. Perhaps what he was looking for was inside him. For a minute, his concentration wavered, and then his mental focus sharpened, catapulting his perceptions. “No!” Selu thought. Selu’s mind whirled. This terrible choice, this dark voice had come from within him, calling him. He was faced with an insurmountable obstacle—either choice represented ruin on some level. Worst of all, the option had only come from within him, meaning that it was a weakness in his character. Selu pondered this concept for some time, wracking his mind for some explanation, some way to gain an understanding and control the situation. And then, the epiphany came to him. He stood up and opened his eyes. “I reject the need to understand and control the situation. I will be at peace, and I will make the choice when the time comes. The future is not set in stone, and I do not need to control it.” As he said these words, a sense of peace washed over him. Selu smiled, tired and hungry as he was. He had found what he was looking for—the peace to accept the future and its uncontrollable nature. Selu continued to sit and marvel at this revelation for some time, attempting to discern its meaning. Eventually, the door behind him opened, and Selu, stretching, arose and walked out the door into the dimly lit hallway. Suddenly, he felt a disturbance in the Force. It seemed as if a dark shadow had materialized out of thin air to block his way. It was hungry, malevolent. Selu reached down and hastily grabbed for the lightsaber on his belt, only to find that it wasn’t there. It, along with everything else typically he kept there, was back in his quarters for the duration of the Jedi trial. The shadow stopped and directed its attention at Selu. He felt its gaze drift over him, even though it was an incoherent shape. Not knowing what to make of it, he squared his shoulders and attempted to stand up straight and muster his courage. “The dark side has no place here. Be gone.” The shadow halted, and then seemed to laugh at him. And then it assumed a coherent visage, a frightening sight Selu remembered well from his classes. A tattooed Rattataki woman, sneering with contempt, the description given of the Dark Jedi Asajj Ventress, a Separatist commander known for killing several Jedi. It spoke. “I am already in this place. I smell your blood, Jedi. You are undone.” “You did not win before, and you will not win this time.” “You will join me or die.” “I will never join you.” “Very well then.” Selu felt as if he couldn’t breathe as the shadow bore down on him. His throat went dry as he was stricken with fright. Part of its dark essence reached out to him, cold and clammy on his sleeve. He jerked back. He felt a person approach the end of the hallway. Selu had an epiphany—all he had to do was destroy the person at the end of the hall and the shadow would flee. Though weaponless and with nothing to throw telekinetically, Plo Koon had taught him an arcane technique eschewed by the majority of the Jedi. Known as Electric Judgment, it channeled the Force in tangible bolts of energy similar to Force lightning, and could be lethal. Selu knew the technique, but had never used it in action before. He felt the surge of energy, the tiniest coruscation of greenish sparks around his palm as the Force was channeled through his arm, collecting in his palm like electrons flowing into a living capacitor. All he had to do was unleash that charge. Then Selu reeled back, thunderstruck. Attacking an indiscernible person was of the dark side. He dissipated the energy built quickly—use of the Electric Judgment could kill someone. However, he could still disable the person. The Force could also be channeled into a powerful telekinetic attack. Used to push someone into a wall, it could disable the person while Selu went to summon help. It would stop the dark-side shadow and let him escape; find Master Yoda or Master Windu or do something. Selu stopped short again. Attacking was still of the dark side, and there was only one appropriate response to the shadow—and attack was not it. “I stand in your way,” Selu said calmly. “You will say that, but when it matters most, you will run and abandon your duty.” The shadow laughed, mocking him, and the sound of it was like razor blades flying at Selu. Then it vanished. Selu jerked his eyes open. He was still inside the meditation room, still in a kneeling position. It had only been a vision. He looked down, and saw that his hands were trembling, and beads of sweat were rolling down his neck, but he had stood strong, had faced the dark side and not given in to it. The door slid open quietly, signaling that the seven days were over. A breath of cool air blew in, and Selu stood up. Plo Koon was standing in the doorway, smiling broadly. “Greetings, Padawan. I bring word from the Council. Your test is over; I’m sure you have done well. Return to your quarters, eat, sleep, refresh yourself, and await further instruction for now.” “Yes, Master.” Selu stumbled off towards the nearest dining area. Still thinking about his vision of darkness and looking wistfully up towards the Hall of Knighthood, he nearly collided into a tall Jedi dressed in dark garments and walking with a hurried pace. “Oops, sorry about that,” he said. “It’s all right—just look where you’re going next time,” replied Anakin Skywalker. Sheepish, Selu was careful to pay more attention to his surroundings after that incident. After a breakfast of Alderaan stew and flatbread, he returned to his quarters, and sprawled out on his bed, quickly falling sound asleep, for despite his use of the Force to refresh himself, he was bone-tired. Several hours later, a small hand brushing the back of his hand awoke him, his eyes darting open to find a human male youngling of about twelve or thirteen standard years of age crouched next to his bed, gently shaking his hand and forearm. “Padawan Kraen, wake up.” “Mmmph—I am awake.” “Master Koon wanted me to come get you.” At the mention of his Master’s name, Selu sat up straight. “Did he say what he wanted?” “No,” the youngling—his name was Burtola, Selu remembered—admitted, but with a gleam in his eye said, “You might want to get cleaned up.” “Hmm?” Selu sounded confused, but a quick look at a mirror showed his unkempt hair and tunic, both untouched for seven days. Burtola wrinkled his nose. “You stink.” “Oh, right, sorry.” Selu rummaged around in the small chest at the foot of his bed that contained his few possessions, looking for his other tunic. “They told me to expect you to come within half a standard hour to the base of the main spire.” “Thank you, Burtola.” As the youngling departed, Selu headed into the refresher for a quick sonic shower. Doffing a fresh tunic, he dried most of the water out of his short black hair and the Padawan braid that hung down his right shoulder. Strapping his belt around his waist, he hooked his lightsaber onto the belt and strode out to the base of the main spire, his knee-length boots creaking as he walked out to meet his destiny. Selu met Plo Koon at the base of the Temple Spire, and wordlessly the Kel Dor motioned him to follow him. Selu walked along in silence, somewhat distraught. He had passed his test, hadn’t he? Why wasn’t Master Koon saying anything to him? Koon’s path led them up the main spire, past massive statuary of ancient Jedi looking at him, and stopped at the Hall of Knighthood. Selu felt as if his heart could leap—he was to become a Jedi Knight! Exuberant, he strode into the darkened room, with Plo Koon following him. Twelve Jedi Masters, many of them from the High Council and bearing their cloaks and lightsabers, were standing in a circle in a hushed silence. There was an eerie, reverent feeling to the room, and Selu could almost visibly see the Force in the presence of so many powerful auras. “Kneel, Padawan Kraen.” Mace Windu’s deep voice resonated across the small room, his ebony face barely visible underneath his cloak. Selu kneeled down in the center of the room, folding his legs underneath him. “Place your lightsaber on the floor in front of you,” came the dry voice of the Cerean Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. Selu complied, palming the cool metal cylinder of his lightsaber from his belt and placing it onto the smooth floor. “Passed the Jedi Trials have you. Endured the trials of both flesh and spirit and passed them, have you.” Master Yoda’s voice, old and wise, brought Selu’s gaze off of the floor to the wizened Jedi Master. With his words, twelve lightsabers sprang to life, held in a vertical salute in front of each Master. Yoda, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Coleman Kcaj, the Nautolan Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, Luminara Unduli, Agen Kolar, Jocasta Nu, Jurokk, and Cin Drallig all stood ready, their blades providing the only light in the room. “Step forward, Padawan,” commanded Yoda. As Selu stepped forward to where Yoda stood on a chair, Yoda leveled his lightsaber over Selu’s right shoulder. “Selusda Kraen, by right of the Council . . .” The green blade was raised over his left shoulder now, and Selu felt exhilarated. “. . . by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi Knight of the Republic.” As Yoda repeated the last part of the ancient formula, he brought his lightsaber over to Selu’s right side again, severing his Padawan’s braid with a quick twitch of the wrist and a small stink of burned hair and ozone. “Thank you very much Master Yoda.” “Earned it, you have, young Kraen.” Selu couldn’t hold it in any longer, and a smile burst out on his face. “Several of your friends are waiting for you. I believe they have prepared some sort of celebration. It would be most unbecoming to keep them waiting,” said Plo Koon. Selu looked up, replying, “Then by the Masters’ leave, I’ll take mine.” “Our leave you have,” said Yoda. “Assignments we may have for you, but another time, given they can be.” Bowing respectfully to the gathered Masters, Selu went to seek his friends, finding them in the Temple dining area. Gratefully he accepted a glass of fizzy bubblezap from Skip, a short dark-furred Tynnan Jedi Padawan himself nearing his own time of facing the trials. As Selu took a drink, Serra Keto moved around the table, and seeing his missing braid, threw her arms around him. “Congratulations Selu! You made it—you’re a Jedi Knight now!” Carefully balancing the drink in one hand amid backslaps from the Skip and Serra, Selu smiled broadly as he sat down at the table. In addition to Serra and Skip, Bairdon Jace, a gray-haired Jedi Knight was also present, grinning broadly at hearing of Selu’s success. The four knew each other well, despite their differences in personality and talents. Still, their group had been greater before the Clone Wars had started. The youngest member of the circle of friends, Aubrie Wyn, had been killed on Jabiim in the act of slaying the lead resistance leader there. Though young, Aubrie had been precocious and a talented healer with a knack for knowing exactly how to fix a problem. She was missed sorely, even though her loss had served to draw the rest of the group together and knit their friendships together more closely as they recovered from the tragedy of her death. Over a steaming hot meal of kommerken steak and ootoowergs, the four recounted old memories, talked about the future, and forgot about the galaxy full of responsibility, war, and pain that loomed outside their cozy little group. “Do you remember that time that we showed Scout and Whie how skilled we were with the Force on water?” Skip recounted. “Of course I remember,” said Selu. “I camouflaged myself and stood underwater with my head down and my breather on while you stood on my shoulders. To everyone else it looked like you were walking on top of the water.” Selusda had a very rare gift in the power of Force Camouflage. While his use of it was hardly refined, with considerable effort he could hide himself from view for a brief period of time. In this instance, he had ventured over to the hidden alcove in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and then used the camouflage technique while walking along the bottom. Getting some weights so he wouldn’t float to the surface had been a necessity, but it had worked well. “That’s right. We even had her put her hand in the water to show it wasn’t a trick,” chimed in Serra. “And as she leaned in close to try and see the trick, you splashed her all over.” “That’s right,” beamed Skip. “The look on her face was priceless. She was so fooled.” Serra’s voice was a bit hard to discern between her laughing, but as all four of them were laughing with her, it didn’t matter much. “But the best part was when Bairdon over here had carefully levitated a container of water over Whie’s head while he was laughing at Scout and dumped it on him.” Bairdon, usually reserved since the death of his master on Geonosis, was near tears, but from laughter, not sorrow, by now. “Those two. It was so easy to fool them, even if we did in get in trouble for it from Master Fisto for making a mess.” “Yeah, well doing the afternoon dishes was a fair trade for that prank.” Much of the rest of the afternoon was spent recounting past stories and memories, and very little on productive activity. Bairdon, Serra, and Selu had already passed their Jedi trials, so they were not accountable to any particular master, nor did they have pressing responsibilities. Skip’s master, a Caamasi Jedi named Ylenic It’kla, was away on a diplomatic mission, as he often was, so Skip had been free to join them as well. To the four young Jedi, it was a welcome relief from the grim demeanor of war so pandemic around the galactic capital. Dark clouds still brooded on the horizon, but were temporarily forgotten.
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