| abstract
| - Milya’s lightsaber came alive with a snap-hiss as she faced down Spectre, who had similarly drawn his weapon. The two slowly circled each other, lightsabers held at the guard position. The training arena around them was featureless, just a circle of ground unmarked by statues or other obstacles. Selu had promised to start working in uneven terrain, but only when he felt they were ready. Despite having been training with the lightsabers for a month now, he hadn’t yet taken that step. Spectre saw a potential opening and lunged at her with surprising speed, jabbing his lightsaber at her chest. Milya swatted the lightsaber away with her own blade, backpedaling a few steps as Spectre followed up his attack with a flurry of swift blows. Milya finally stood her ground, her lightsaber flashing as she wove the blade through a defensive velocity, repelling his slashes. The Force granted her precognitive intuition as she realized the intent of the powerful overhand blow crashing down on her. He was attempting to lock their blades and force her down through superior strength—she was near the edge of the arena with nowhere to go. Dropping herself to the ground, she balanced on one hand while kicking out with both feet, catching Spectre just above the knees and sending him stumbling backward. In a real fight, she would kicked the kneecap directly in hopes of dislocating it, but Spectre was a friend and this was training. “Nice move,” he said as he recovered and assumed his guard stance again. “Thanks,” she replied from the ground. Milya flipped up, calling on the Force to aid her in controlling her body. Coming to life, she struck three blows at Spectre, which he repelled. A powerful backswing she didn’t see coming blocked her blade out wide. Before she could recover, Spectre closed in and rammed a knee into her gut. He reached for her neck to catch her in a grappling hold that she knew would end the fight. There was no way to bring her lightsaber back without risking injury to herself—and if Spectre wanted, he could have even attacked her saber arm with his free hand, snapping it in place. Calling on the Force, she closed her eyes even as Spectre’s fingers gripped her neck and began squeezing. She felt her head begin to pound, but just before she reached the point where she would have to submit, she felt sufficiently attuned with the Force. Releasing her left hand from her lightsaber, she swept it across her body. Spectre moved to trap the arm with his own, but it was too late, as Milya channeled the power she had summoned into telekinesis. Caught by surprise, Spectre flew back and tumbled across the arena, losing his lightsaber in the process. Milya called it to her hand and sprinted across to him, crossing the two blades in a precarious position around his throat. Spectre heaved a sigh and tapped the ground twice, indicating his submission. Milya extinguished the blades and helped him up, returning his weapon to him. “You’re a lot better at this naturally,” he said. “I’ve taken two duels off of you out of eleven.” Milya shrugged. “That’s better than Sarth or Cassi,” she remarked. “They have yet to beat us.” Spectre frowned. “That’s different,” he said. “With Sarth and Cassi, I’m trying to defeat them without hurting or embarrassing them.” Milya gave him a toothy smile. “And with me?” Spectre returned the grin. “I’m trying to win.” Milya shrugged. “I grew up learning martial arts and bladed weapons,” she said. “The Force has helped me use that expertise, so I have a slight edge.” “Don’t I know it,” Spectre said, rubbing his thigh where she’d kicked him. “Are you okay?” Milya asked. “Just a little bruised,” Spectre assured her. Noticing the finger marks on her neck, he touched them lightly—a far gentler touch than she was used to. It was an unusual feeling, particularly from him, but not unpleasant, so she did not shrink away. “Sorry about this,” he told her. “Comes with the training,” she said lightly. “Another five seconds and you would have had me.” Spectre grinned ruefully. “Almost doesn’t count in dueling.” “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t beaten Selu yet,” Milya said. “We beat him once as a team,” Spectre reminded her. “It was unarmed combat and . . . he was having a bad day,” Milya answered, not wanting to dwell on the subject of Selu too much. She had tried to emotionally isolate him in her mind, just as he had done to her. Their interactions had been short and curt. “You seem angry at him,” Spectre pointed out. “Or at least tense.” Milya stiffened. “See?” Spectre asked. “It’s not your concern,” Milya told him. “It is when I see two of my friends barely speaking to each other,” Spectre said softly. “What happened?” His question was typical of him: direct, to the point, and considerate without losing any of the intended inquiry. Milya considered telling him off, but she had grown to trust and appreciate the ex-ARC. In his own muted way, Spectre’s questions were expressing his concern and desire to make things right, even if he wasn’t the most tactful. “He made a decision,” Milya answered slowly. “One that changed how we viewed each other.” “He said he wasn’t going to pursue you?” Spectre asked. Milya stared off towards the Hawk-bat for a few seconds. Merely making the admission was unpleasant, but she told herself she was over Selu. “That’s right,” she answered. “Something about destiny and wanting to keep me safe.” Spectre snorted. “Then he’s a fool. You certainly don’t need much help taking care of yourself.” Milya’s lip twisted into a wry smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m just not what he’s looking for—hope he finds whatever that is.” “I hope we all find what we’re looking for,” Spectre replied. “What would that be for you?” He matched her wry smile. “I’ll settle for beating you in a duel for now,” he said. Milya rolled her eyes. “You already trounce me in every blaster-defense exercise; now you want to be the superior duelist?” she replied. “Ambitious.” “Maybe I just want to impress someone,” he answered. “Selu, I think, is already impressed that we’re doing Jedi training exercises that should take years to learn,” Milya said. “Revan said that the saturation of the Force in this place would help accelerate our learning,” Spectre replied. “And believe me, we’re a long way from full Jedi.” “Still doesn’t change the fact that we impressed him,” Milya replied. “Maybe he’s not the one I’m trying to impress,” Spectre answered. Milya froze and Spectre sensed her extend a tendril of Force power to his mind, reaching out to gauge his emotions and intent. Her eyes widened as she realized that he had been referring to her. She saw the undercurrent of emotion and attraction that had been subtly expressed in his words and actions toward her. He was taking a step forward by revealing that to her, and she knew that her reaction to him now was pivotal. Caught by surprise—she hadn’t consciously carried the same depth of attraction as he, but certainly acknowledged him a good man, even desirable—she fumbled for words. “Spectre, I—,” she started. “I have something for you,” Spectre said, changing the subject and taking the lead in the conversation so she could recover. It was just like he had done when they had dueled as a team. She would get knocked off-balance and he would step in to defend her, just as she would do for him. They were a good team in the dueling arena despite their different styles and backgrounds. Maybe they would be equally good outside of it. “Oh?” Milya asked. “I believe it is customary to give gifts on Dsalka Fenni Echanos,” Spectre replied. “How did you know about that?” asked Milya, completely surprised. Dsalka Fenni Echanos was an ancient Echani custom, celebrated when an Echani warrior turned twenty. At that age, Raskta Fenni, a legendary Echani duelist from years past, had gained entry into adulthood as a full warrior when she defeated three older foes at once. Since then, in honor of Fenni’s legacy, the Echani had made the occasion something of a ritual festivity that combined a trial by combat with a celebration if the warrior was successful. Milya hadn’t told anyone about that hers was approaching, except for the spirit of Brianna. “You taught me well,” said Spectre. “The Echani learn about their opponent through combat, right?” “Then you read me well,” she said. “So is that why you insisted on that second sparring session earlier with Brianna watching?” “Yes,” he said. “I talked to her afterwards, and your victory was sign of your maturity and skill. You passed.” “I wondered what you two were talking about,” she said. “So, here’s the gift,” said Spectre, pulling a cloth-wrapped bundle from his belt and placing it in her hands. As he did so, Spectre noted the difference between his sizable hand, and Milya’s much smaller and more slender palm. Carefully, she unfolded the cloth to reveal a sparkling diamond jewel, carefully cut so each ray of light that passed through it was refracted in a brilliant burst of color. “What kind of jewel is this?” she asked. “A diamond,” he replied. “Hardest of all the stones found here, and the most beautiful. When I saw it, I was reminded of you and I knew you would like it.” “It’s beautiful. But why a gem? That’s not as practical as I would expect a gift from you to be.” she asked, holding up the gem to admire its sparkling, coruscating faces. “It’s practical. We’re training in the Jedi arts, aren’t we?” asked Spectre. “That means we’ll need lightsabers of our own. Juhani told me that a diamond, properly set and controlled when the saber is constructed, will give it a whitish blade.” Spectre’s careful planning and timing of this event were rewarded at seeing the delighted look on Milya’s face. She was clearly elated, and Spectre sensed that she was inwardly overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Spectre,” she said, throwing her arms around him in a warm hug. “This means a lot to me. I don’t even know how to thank you for thinking of me,” Milya whispered into his ear as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know any Imperial or Mandalorian holidays, but if you have any good ones, just let me know.” “I’ll be sure to do that,” said Spectre, his face feeling a twinge of heat where she kissed him. “And as for the rest . . .” Milya added, alluding to the attraction he had expressed. “Yes?” Spectre asked, his heart pounding inside his chest. “If the clone trooper and Mandalorian-influenced training inside you can handle growing close to an Echani . . .” Spectre took her hand in his. “Our differences compliment each other,” he said earnestly. “I value your companionship more than any rivalry.” “I know,” Milya answered. She took a deep breath. “And I value yours as well,” she said. “Does that mean . . .?” Spectre started. Milya leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Does that answer the question?” she asked him in a silky whisper. “It does,” he answered hoarsely. “But just to be sure . . .” Milya smiled flirtatiously at him. “Maybe later,” she said, checking her chrono. “I’m supposed to meet with Cassi.” She rose and headed for the ship. “I’ll hold you to that,” Spectre called after her. She gave him one last smile. “See that you do.” Hours later, as she finally prepared for bed, Milya Tayrce yawned as she made her way towards her bed. The other crewmembers of the Hawk-bat had, with the limited resources in food and drink available, gathered around to congratulate her on her Dsalka Fenni Echanos and she had spent a pleasurable evening in their company talking and eating and drinking. Cassi and Sarth had prepared a surprising variety of foods from the plants in the hydroponics chamber, even a cake. Spectre hadn’t told the others about the occasion, but she figured that Brianna must have informed them. She had been a little hurt and disappointed that Selu had not done anything special for her. It was just another point in a long line of subtle acts of shunning that he had been engaging in during their training. However, he had been with the others and more outgoing and carefree than he had been in a while, so she was not discontent, though she didn’t interact with him as much as she might have. At any rate, she was tired but joyful and grateful to have friends like she did. As she pulled back the covers on her bed, she noticed that a small bundle was resting on the pillow. She wondered who had placed it there; it could have been anyone as she hadn’t returned to her bed since rising at the start of the day. It was wrapped in cloth and she pulled off the cover to reveal a multifaceted durindfire jewel resting on the cloth. There was a piece of flimsy left there also, with her name written on it. Picking up the rather crumpled piece of flimsy, she read: “Milya, a shining Dsalka Fenni Echanos to you and may you succeed in your trials and deeds today and always hereafter.” It was the traditional Echani saying on the occasion, Milya noted. “This durindfire is a token for you on your happy occasion, a jewel for the lightsaber that you will someday construct. I already know that you will pass your challenges and earn this. The gem once belonged to Brianna when she was on the Ebon Hawk and once imbued her own weapon with a silver blade before she replaced it. I hope it will serve you equally well. Humbly yours, Selusda Kraen.” Milya read the note carefully. Selu must have left this here early in the day, because it clearly had been written prior to her match with Spectre, which had taken place in what they called morning. He had figured she would win and had left the jewel for her to find later in the day. Milya suddenly realized that Selu hadn’t forgotten about the occasion, and her prior judgment of him had been incorrect. Even more puzzling to her was how both Spectre and Selusda had given her similar gifts. Selu had apparently left his gift before Spectre had given her his, and now she wondered if Spectre had seen his idea. The fact that Selu had once harbored feelings for her and now Spectre had expressed his only complicated matters further. Tucking the durindfire back into its cloth wrapper, she placed both it and the diamond in a small locker underneath her bed, trying not to think about the enigmatic person that was Selusda Kraen. He had chosen other concerns over her—even if he hadn’t as much said that he longer cared for her—whereas Spectre had been direct and honest about his feelings. A part of her was happy that Spectre seemed ready to fill the void that Selu had left. However, there was a niggling feeling in her mind reminding her that until today, she hadn’t shared the same intensity attraction with Spectre that he had expressed, just mere twinges compared to his outpouring. With these thoughts buzzing around in her head, it was some time before she finally fell asleep. Zeru Neimodia Taskien squatted by the tiny campfire, warming her hands by the flames licking at the fuel. Nights were cold on Zeru Neimodia and as the thick blanketing mists rolled in from the mountains, they brought with them a chilly damp feeling. She hugged her dirty jacket closer, trying to retain as much body heat as possible. “Long night, Daiya?” a gruff voice asked her. She turned to see Arthos, the man who had “rescued” her standing behind her, a heavy pack and blaster rifle slung over his shoulders. “I just came off watch,” she reported. “Anything unusual?” he asked as he set the pack down. “Not at all. Quiet night.” “Good,” he said, nodding at the pack. “More supplies. Food, mostly. You might find something in there that we can make into soup.” Taskien rummaged through the pack, her stomach rumbling at the thought of hot food. Throughout the last three weeks that she had been working with Arthos’s cell, she had constantly been tired, dirty, and hungry. The insurgents definitely lacked in basic logistics, but based on what she had seen of them, they made up for it with stubborn grit. Finding a package of nerf stock, she found a shallow pan and added water to it from a purification cistern, then poured some of the stock into the pan, warming it over the fire. Beside her, Arthos sat down, looking skyward through the mouth of the cave in which they were hidden. “Where are the others?” he asked. “They’re still out on patrol,” she replied. While she had yet to be asked to join a direct strike, she had supported their missions a few times, scanning Imperial communication bands for activities. Suspecting that she was being tested, she had performed her job well, wincing at the thought that she was actively helping the enemies of the Empire in doing so, but knowing it was necessary to build their trust so she could deliver them all to the Empire later. “All right then,” Arthos answered. A steady wind began to blow, temporarily rolling away the mists to reveal a dark sky. He gazed up at the stars beginning to twinkle through the night sky as twilight faded to true night. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked after several minutes. Taskien looked up from the soup she was heating. “I suppose.” “One day, the Empire will be gone and people like you and me will be free to look at the stars in peace,” he said wistfully. Privately, Taskien thought he was a fool. The Empire was the natural and more enduring evolution of the Republic, held under firmer control and not beholden to the ten thousand splintered constituencies that had comprised the Republic. “I’m pretty sure people in the Empire look at the stars, too,” she said with a desultory shake of her head. “But they can’t do so without looking over their shoulder,” Arthos pointed out. “They have to be worried about a government that seeks pure and utter domination of all it sees, that doesn’t value its people.” “Based on their revenge attacks, they certainly value their people somewhat,” Taskien said. “The Empire values people based on what they do or what value they have, as long as they’re servile and do as they’re told,” Arthos replied. “They don’t value people as beings.” Taskien thought this notion was even more ridiculous—the Empire looked after its own and rewarded the faithful. The Empire also knew that sometimes sacrifices had to be made to achieve victory, just like any military knew. To generalize the entire galactic government as some heartless monster that devalued life was yet another reason these myopic rebels needed to be defeated—they were simply too deluded. However, for now she needed to maintain the pretense of being a disgruntled fighter, so she nodded in agreement. “True enough,” she said. “Soup’s hot.” She poured some of it into a metal mug and handed it to him. He accepted it gratefully and began sipping the hot liquid; Taskien did likewise from the pan. “Something big’s going to happen soon,” Arthos told her. She turned to regard him seriously. If there was a major development, she needed to know about it. “Oh?” she asked. “Can’t tell you any more than that,” he said soberly. “But it’s coming soon.” “What do I need to do?” she asked. He chuckled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you’re very quick on your feet,” he said. “I like that about you.” She nodded appreciatively, waiting for him to continue. “The others wanted to shoot you, but I’m glad we didn’t,” he said. “You’ve proven yourself. You did good work, scrambling the sensors on the Parven Outpost raid.” She had indeed done a good job, using a rudimentary improvised jammer to confuse the sensor beacons placed around the outpost. The insurgents had gotten close enough to destroy a pair of Juggernaut tanks with explosives and escape with minimal casualties. A combination of her skill and Imperial over-reliance on the sensor network had allowed them to breach the perimeter, plant explosives on the parked vehicles, and withdraw. She had been dejected at seeing both the poor Imperial defense and the realization that she had made the raid possible, but even the surly Twi’lek woman, Quira, had shown her some respect afterward. “Just trying to do my part,” Taskien told him. “What do we do?” “When the others get back, I’ll be taking most of our cell over to Draskell.” A shiver ran down Taskien’s spine. Draskell was the code name for the main resistance base. She had tried to correlate the name with some topographical feature, but had come up empty. “For that big something?” she inquired. “Indeed,” he answered. “We’ll leave a few here on patrol, but our leader has an operation in mind for this sector and it’s too dangerous to transmit the plans or send back physical descriptions.” “What do you want me to do?” “I want you to come with us,” Arthos told her. “We’ll leave Quira and Jertiri here to guard. I suspect our leader will want your expertise for what he’s planning.” That was an interesting fact—apparently whatever they had planned would require comm-listener expertise. Then again, just about any kind of operation that the insurgents would plan would require a comm-listener. As the local expert on Imperial communication patterns and practices, she would naturally be the best choice to brief them. As an added bonus, Quira, who was still the most suspicious toward her, wouldn’t be going. This was about a good as chance as she was likely to have—and the commander would be astonished when she came through and delivered Draskell to him. No doubt the clone had already written her off as long dead, just another corpse rotting in the zerubis forests. “All right,” she said. “When do we leave?” Arthos chuckled again. “Eager, eh? It’ll be a few days, likely,” he replied. “I’ll be ready,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm metal pan to heat them. “Good,” he replied. “Get some sleep, Daiya. I’ll stand watch. I have a lot on my mind anyway.” Taskien complied, making her way across the cave this cell called home and finding her bedroll, crawling inside. Tiny powercells inside heat fed a thermal coil which helped keep her warm. Inwardly, she was elated. After three weeks of surviving in this miserable cave and tramping across misty forests, she had finally proved herself to the insurgents and gained a position where she could drive a knife into the heart of the resistance on this world. Now all she had to do was stay alive long to watch it die. Deep space “You can do this,” the grizzled voice of Jolee Bindo told her. “You have the skill and the heart,” the apparition of Mical added. “Take courage and trust in the Force, and you will succeed.” Cassi nodded slowly as the apparitions faded away. Taking a deep calming breath just as the Jedi had told her, she left her cabin and entered the lounge where the others were waiting, having assembled at her summons. She tried to school her emotions into the serenity that her spectral instructors always seemed to display, with mixed success. “What is it, Cassi?” Selu asked. Cassi took another deep breath, observing the four pairs of eyes that were watching her. Finally, her own eyes locked with Milya’s. “I think I can heal Milya,” she said. All four of her crewmembers started in astonishment. “How?” Spectre asked. “With the Force,” Cassi replied. “That is remarkable progress,” Selu observed, astonishment evident in his voice. “Jolee and Mical have taught me much—but my questions were always directed down this path,” Cassi revealed. “Everything that I was learning, I wanted it to contribute to this purpose.” “That’s very noble of you,” Selu replied. “Are you sure?” Cassi almost wavered, but she remembered Jolee’s and Mical’s words. In her heart, she knew she could do this. “I am.” “Thank you,” Milya said, her voice breaking a little bit. “You didn’t have to do this.” “You helped me,” Cassi reminded her. “I wanted to do the same for you.” “What happens if it doesn’t work?” Spectre asked. “It will,” Cassi reassured him. “And if it doesn’t?” Spectre pressed. “I doubt anything I could do would cause the tumor to grow or worsen,” Cassi said. “There might be some minor tissue damage.” “Minor tissue damage near the heart isn’t exactly good news,” Spectre pointed out protectively. “This sounds risky.” “Spectre,” Milya chided him. “If Cassi says she can do it, then I believe her.” She looked back at Cassi. “What do you think?” “I think I can heal your tumor with the Force,” Cassi replied. “I’d like to try, if you’re willing.” Milya nodded slowly. “I don’t want to worry about this any longer. I can sense it in the Force now, like a knot of wrongness that doesn’t belong.” “Do you need any help?” Selu asked Cassi. “No,” Cassi replied. “Jolee and Mical will help me. Anyone else would just be a distraction.” “You’re not trying to get a look, are you, Selu?” Milya teased him acidly. Selu flushed red, finding a spot at the wall and staring at it furiously. The others sat silently, not knowing what to say. “When do you want to do it?” Cassi asked at last, breaking the silence and changing the subject. “Let’s try tomorrow morning,” Milya said. “All right,” Cassi agreed. As if by mutual agreement, the crew disbursed. Each of them made some supportive statement to Cassi or Milya, then headed off to their respective training. Milya was the last to leave and she caught Cassi’s arm before she did so. “Thank you again,” she said. “I appreciate it.” Cassi smiled and hugged the other woman. “It’s the least I can do.” Milya’s eyebrow arched up in surprise. “If this is the least you can do, then you might be the most powerful out of all of us.” Cassi laughed. “Maybe you’re right. That is a bit much,” she replied. “See you later at meditation?” “I’ll be there,” Milya promised. “Though I don’t know who’ll be more nervous.” “Probably Selu,” Cassi offered. “He seems to take everything as his personal responsibility and now he’ll have to stand aside and let someone else tackle the challenge.” Milya’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Well, he’ll just have to get used to it.” The next day Milya had arisen early to stretch and exercise while Cassi ate breakfast with the others. Cassi watched her with amusement inside the small cabin they shared. “You know you won’t be doing any running once the healing starts,” she said. “I know,” Milya replied. “But if I’m going to be lying on this bed for a while, I at least want to get some exercise in.” “You could go talk to the others,” Cassi offered. “I’m sure they’d like to see you before we begin.” Milya considered it. Spectre, certainly, would want to see her, and Selu and Sarth would likewise have something encouraging to say. However, she also didn’t trust herself to keep her own emotions in check. Even though Cassi had implied that the healing . . . ritual, or whatever it was, wasn’t terribly involved, Milya suspected that if Spectre, or even Selu, said the right words, she would blurt out some emotionally-charged statement she would regret later. Or at least give some explanation. She had no desire to do that. Besides, there was nothing that they could say that would calm her down prior to her first-ever experience with Force-therapy. Her brain reminded her it was technically her second—Selu had once neutralized poison from a dart that had struck her. Still, that had been a foreign substance and the equivalent of combat medicine. This was some aberration in her own body formed from her own cells. Milya didn’t have a great understanding of Force healing, but at least in conventional medicine, the rigor of the treatment for the two conditions was considerably different. Besides, she didn’t really want to think about Selu right now. “Milya?” Cassi asked. Milya started, realizing she had been lost in thought. “Oh, right. Sorry,” Milya replied. “I think I’ll just stay in. Tell them that their thoughts are appreciated.” “All right,” Cassi answered. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Milya nodded, returning to her stretching. It was difficult to practice the proper Echani forms in the cramped cabin, but she made do without even knocking over the lamp at Cassi’s bedside—something she had certainly done before. She would take any opportunity she could get to move on a day that she would spend mostly unconscious, trusting in Cassi’s nascent healing skills. The apparition of Brianna shimmered into view as Milya perched on one foot, stretching until her fingertips brushed the ceiling. “Are you nervous?” the ghost asked. “Of course,” Milya answered. “I’m about to experience Force-healing by someone who two months ago couldn’t even touch the Force. Wouldn’t you be?” “You must trust,” Brianna told her. Milya scowled. “You and I both know that word doesn’t come easily in my vocabulary,” she replied. “You know my past.” “Yes,” Brianna said. “That changes nothing. You must trust your friend, and trust the Force.” Milya slid forward to stretch out with arms and one leg extended ahead of her. “This will be a good challenge for you,” Brianna added. Milya glared at the apparition. “We’re not just talking about a training exercise. Cassi will be trying to remove a threat to my life that’s growing inside of me. I can dismiss it as nothing in front of the others. You know better.” “The best tests are those that are not to be trifled with,” Brianna replied. “I wish you well, Milya Tayrce. May your healing be swift and complete.” “Thanks,” Milya answered curtly. The apparition faded just before Cassi re-entered, carrying a pair of medkits. “The others were hoping to see you,” she said. “I know,” Milya replied without further explanation. Cassi wisely left it alone, setting the medkits on the nightstand near Milya’s bed. She pulled out the handheld scanner and held it up to Milya’s body. “Got it,” Cassi said. “Are you ready?” Milya took a deep breath. “As ready as I can be,” she answered. Pulling off her shirt, she laid down on her bed as Cassi applied a sedative patch to her arm and connected monitor cables to her wrist and chest. Milya looked up at her friend. “Thanks again for doing this,” she said. “Even if it doesn’t work.” “It will,” Cassi promised. Milya laid back on her pillow as she began to get increasingly drowsy. The last thing she remembered before everything went black was Cassi’s hands crossed above her, beginning to emanate with a faint glow. Selu, Sarth and Spectre sat quietly, staring at the closed door to Milya’s and Cassi’s cabin. The last they had seen of their fellow crewmembers, Milya had been lying sedated in her bunk, with Cassi at her side, equipped with the various medical implements they had on board. The three men had been there for several hours, but they’d already exhausted a number of diversions. They had tried to train, but the distraction made concentration difficult, even for Selu. Three rounds of sabacc had already come and gone, but none of them had played well. They had even just talked, spending hours in simple conversation to pass the time. All of these had run their course and now they simply sat in silence, waiting, for it was all they could do. Sarth was fiddling with his datapad, looking at lightsaber schematics and designs he had downloaded from the Ebon Hawk’s ancient computer. Spectre was pensive, his gaze fixed on the door. Selu had done the same until struck by a thought. Folding his legs under himself, he eased into a meditative posture and closed his eyes, focusing on the Force and the two women. He could sense both of them. Milya was unconscious, still sedated, while he could detect that Cassi was exerting herself considerably through the Force. The apparitions of Brianna, Jolee, and Mical were present as well. Selu extended his senses further, seeking out the “knot of wrongness,” as Milya had described it. It didn’t take long for him to detect the malignant tissue. He could feel Cassi directing the Force into Milya’s body, trying to simultaneously destroy the cancerous cells with the Force and direct Milya’ s own cells to attack the tumor. Selu was careful not to disturb Cassi’s work or even let his mind touch hers; he did not want to disrupt the delicate process. Cassi seemed fatigued, but her resolve was as strong as ever. At last, Selu sensed the tumor beginning to dissolve. Cassi appeared to have coaxed Milya’s immune system to attack the tumor from outside, while she had conjured a small pocket of Force energy inside it, which was slowly burning away at the malignant cells. Selu could tell that Cassi was drawing not only on her strength, but that of Milya’s and even that of the apparitions. And she was winning. Gradually, the tumor receded, but Cassi was relentless, scouring the surrounding cells and tissues for any trace of the malignance. She was a conduit for the Force, focusing healing energy into Milya’s body. Selu could not see them physically, but he sensed the interactions of their auras, could detect the subtle physiological changes as the Force did its work. It reminded him of the Jedi healers he had known growing up in the Jedi Temple—and though Cassi lacked the smooth confidence and refined, focused technique, her determination and focus were enough for this small tumor. At last, she had finally destroyed it. The door hissed open and Selu’s eyes opened to see Cassi emerge. She looked utterly drained and Sarth quickly rushed over to help her to a chair, pouring her a cup of karlini tea. “How is she?” Spectre asked. “She’s resting,” Cassi said. “The healing took as much out of her as it did of me.” “And the tumor?” Sarth inquired. Cassi’s shoulders slumped in relief. “It’s gone, at least as far as I can tell.” “Cassi, you have done extremely well,” Selu told her sincerely. “The Jedi healers I knew would have been impressed.” Cassi shook her head. “I still have so much to learn,” she said. “The healing technique wasn’t perfect.” “What do you mean?” Spectre asked. “You said you destroyed the tumor.” “I did, but it sapped both of us of our strength,” Cassi answered wearily. “The process was painful at times—for both of us—and she may have a small scar.” “Very rarely is a healing perfect,” Selu told her. “Even in the hands of a master. For someone so new to using the Force, what you did is a great accomplishment.” Cassi nodded appreciatively. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I think I’m off to bed as well. This datapad is connected to the Milya’s medical monitor.” “You can use my cabin,” Selu told her. “We’ll keep an eye on the datapad. Anything we should do for her?” “She should just sleep for a while,” Cassi replied. “She can rest easy,” Spectre said. “Especially when she has friends like you looking out for her.” Cassi smiled, kissed Sarth good night, and then headed for her borrowed cabin with a warm feeling in her heart that stayed with her for some time after her. She had done it—had used the Force for good, to heal someone. And in that moment, she knew that she could be a Jedi.
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