Fiach’s Jedi Trials

Fiach Dubh

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Pestana. Fiach tightened her muscles. What was it about that name that caused her body to react? She was a cold-fish after all. Emotions were for others. Or, at least they were until she spent more time learning to use the Force and found that it was less that she was emotionless, but she’d learned from a young age to supress them. And her training had made it harder to keep them under wraps in times of stress.

In a way, she wanted to experience them, but at present they were like a switch. Either on or off. She wanted them to be more like a tap, where she could control the flow. She felt suddenly cold. Only the discipline she’d learned from Jedi training helped her suppress her body’s involuntary shiver.

Pestana.

Slave trader.

Slave raider.
 

Fiach Dubh

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Memory bloomed inside her. It filled her blood like a poison. Every detail rushed at her.

She remembered a cool, crisp day on Klatooine. A picnic. The sweet taste of fruit pastry. And then the sudden shock of hurrying through their row of quarters, seeing faces unrecognisable from terrible fear.

She had suppressed the memory with an act of will. But she had not been able to shut it out forever.

Now memory had chosen to return at this moment. Fiach almost groaned aloud.

But Fiach was already conquering her shock. She told herself that she was meant to remember now. Shock hardened into resolve. Even though Fiach had never seen the pirate, she knew him. She knew the terror he had spread.

At last there was a chance she could face him. How lucky to have been given this assignment! Her hand moved unconsciously to her lightsaber hilt.
 

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The ship was massive and utilitarian. And these diplomatic vessels were pressed into service as cargo ships, and the planet’s ship designers were known for ingenuity rather than style. They managed to pack more cargo space into a cruiser than anyone in the galaxy. They did this by compressing living space. Cabins and public areas were cramped and oddly shaped, mostly tucked into stray corners. It would not be a luxurious flight.

Luckily Fiach had reached the point where she barely registered her surroundings, except as points of interest for the mission ahead.

She reached the bridge. The command centre was smaller than it should be for a ship of this size. The pilot crew was jammed up against one another and the tech consoles. Even the ceiling was put into service for cargo - finely spun durasteel nets were suspended there and filled with cargo boxes. The full load blocked out the lighting from above, creating pools of shadow on the bridge. The total effect was one of deep gloom.

“Captain, the Jedi has arrived,” her guide reported.

The captain waved a hand behind him but did not turn. “Dismissed.”

The guide turned and left. The captain still ignored Fiach. He stared down at a data screen mounted on the tech console.

Fiach knew they were barely tolerating her presence. If the captain wanted to play a game of patience with her, she would not engage.
 

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The captain turned at last. His expression was not welcoming. “We will be departing in six minutes,” he said. “You are free to walk about the ship, but do not get in the way.”

Fiach matched the captain’s brusque tone. “If any suspicious vessels enter our range, you will notify me?”

“No need for alarm. We do not expect trouble. There is a Jedi aboard.”
The captain barely hid the sarcasm in his tone.

“Nevertheless, I expect to be notified if there is a potential problem,” Fiach said firmly.

The captain shrugged. “As you wish.” The words came like explosive puffs of air. Obviously the captain did not appreciate getting orders, only giving them. “Now go. We are busy.”

Fiach turned and left the bridge.
 

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Fiach adjourned to her cramped quarters and reviewed her file for the umpteenth time. Usually she trusted herself to read it once, but for some reason she kept on reading it over and over, as if she’d missed something.

There was a profile of Pestana’s ship and his illegal activities as well as background on his two associates. One was a Wookiee named Arribecca. Very fierce, very dangerous. Unusual for a Wookiee to be involved in slave trading, but he was extremely loyal to Pestana. There was another associate called Croft, a human female. There was precious little information on the woman.

Fiach felt the engines thrum underneath her feet. The ship slowly rose from its docking port, then shot out into a space lane. Soon they would be far from the planet, engaging the hyperdrive.
 

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“Don’t touch that!” A ship’s officer rushed forward. Fiach stepped back from the equipment console in the tech readout room. They were coming out of hyperspace too soon.

“I wasn’t touching it,” Fiach said. “I was just looking at it. I’ve never seen a tech console like this before.”

“Well, go away,”
the officer said, blocking the tech console. “This is not a place for little girls, even Jedi little girls.”

Fiach decided that the tech console was not interesting enough to risk a confrontation. She walked away with a dignity that masked her irritation. In her experience, most beings were happy to indulge in tech-talk and were proud of their ships. This crew didn’t seem to bond with their transports, just looked at them as a way to get them from one place to another. Normally Fiach would fill her time poking into the ship’s nooks and crannies, but the crew was constantly breathing down her neck.

She never knew a mission could be so boring. If only Pestana would attack!

Fiach stopped, appalled at the thought that had risen so buoyantly into her mind. Jedi did not wish for confrontation, but met it squarely when it came. They looked for peaceful outcomes. She should not long for a pirate invasion to spice up a dull trip. It was as wrong as wrong could be.

But to be fair, she didn’t want Pestana to attack because she was bored. The thought of the pirate was like an itch she had to scratch. The pain and suffering he’d caused on Klatooine was palpable to the young Jedi.
 

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How could she have let such an emotion move through her unnoticed and unchecked? Fiach could never understand how it had remained inside her, threatening never to leave. It had the power to consume her, she understood that. It frightened her, and Fiach did not want to accept fear, either. Did this mean he could never be a Jedi Knight?

Wasn’t being a Jedi all about control? She had to find her own way to face and control her feelings, not lock them down. That would be the best way.

Suddenly, Fiach felt a tremor in the ship. It caused her to stumble slightly. The tremor was followed by a blast that sent her flying into the corridor wall. Alarm signals began to sound.

Fiach took off through the maze of twisting corridors. The ship was hit again by another blast, and began to practice defensive manoeuvres. Fiach knew the ship was too large to outmanoeuvre most crafts.

She headed for the bridge.
 

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The crew sat tensely at the controls while a few officers raced from one station to another. Outside the view-port, she could see vapour trails of proton torpedoes and showers of explosives. The ship shook with every nearby blast. It was an ambush – Pestana must have known where they would appear.

The captain stood, his hands gripping the arms of his control chair. “Where is the ship?” he screamed. “Where is the ship?”

“It dived below us, Captain,” one of the crew members shouted.

“Full speed ahead! Full speed! No, left engines full!” the captain shouted, his voice on the edge of hysteria. “Where is the ship now?”

The ship lurched to one side as the crew struggled to reconcile the captain’s contradictory orders. This lurch was followed by another blast that sent everyone on the bridge staggering.

“Pestana is off to our port, sir,” one of the crew members said. “We’ve taken a blow to the fuel driver.”

“What is he doing!” the captain shouted. “Doesn’t he know who we are?”

“Yes, Captain. We informed the ship that we were a diplomatic ship with a Jedi aboard. As per your instructions,” the crew member added pointedly.

“Port-side deflector shield is down,” another crew member shouted.

“What?” the captain asked, racing over to stare at the readout. “How could that be?”

“We didn’t get it fully operational in time–”

“Idiots!” The captain nearly fell over as another blast shook the ship. “It’s an ambush – they must have reset the coordinates of our nav computer.”

Fiach stared out the view port as the pirate ship shot into view. It was smaller than the transport, but highly manoeuvrable. By the look of the orbital gun platforms and laser cannons, they were also vastly outgunned.
 
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Fiach Dubh

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Because of her connection to the Force, Fiach knew her ability to read situations was far-ranging. She didn’t need the Force now to tell her that with a failing ship and a panicked captain, they were in trouble. If they couldn’t outmanoeuvre Pestana or outrun him, what options were left?

“Our only hope is to get a small transport off this ship and infiltrate Pestana’s ship,” Fiach said. “If we can get aboard, we could disable the weapons system.”

“What’s that?” The captain turned his head. “What did you say?”

“Will you authorise release of one of your transports to me?” Fiach asked.

“What for?”

“To infiltrate Pestana’s ship,” Fiach repeated. “It’s the only way we’ll escape destruction or capture.”

“Do what you want. I don’t care. “Just do something!”

“I’ll need you to create a diversion.”

“Fine!”
 

Fiach Dubh

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She reached the cargo bay doors, where a number of small transports sat. They were used to ferry passengers or cargo to and from the surface while the large ship orbited a planet.

She surveyed them with a pilot’s eye, but also drew in the Force to help with the decision. She needed to go on instinct now. She trusted that it would tell her the right ship to choose.

“The N-class shuttle,” she said out loud. “Lighter and faster.”

She activated the hatch and swung herself up into the cockpit.

Quickly, Fiach familiarized herself with the controls. There wasn’t a ship made that she couldn’t fly with a little time to adjust. Something she lacked now.

She contacted the crew who operated the bay doors and quickly instructed her that she had the captain’s permission to leave. After a moment, the doors opened slightly, and Fiach activated the two lower wings, which lifted into flight mode and blasted off into space.
The captain kept his promise to create a diversion, flying erratically and letting off enough fire to keep Pestana occupied.

If she could hug the rear of the pirate ship, she might be able to slip into the exhaust system. The steam would overheat the craft, but if Fiach could push the ship fast enough, she might be able to make it into the interior.
 

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Pestana’s ship had not spotted her, and Fiach was able to precisely mirror the pirate ship’s quick attack manoeuvres. By hugging Pestana’s stern, she was able to escape detection. She anticipated which way the ship would move as it attacked again and again at the vulnerable parts of the diplomat’s ship. She followed the ship like a shadow, all the time easing closer to the great exhaust valve at the stern.

The exhaust valve contained a huge whirring propeller. Fiach hung in the air, her fingers on the controls, timing the propeller’s turn. The tiniest miscalculation would send her into the twirling blades.

Fiach knew the seconds were ticking away. She waited until the Force gathered and united with her instincts and perceptions. She fixed her gaze on the spinning blades. They seemed to slow with the level of her concentration. As soon as she felt sure that he had fully absorbed the rhythm, she pushed the engines and felt the craft zoom toward the exhaust port. She flipped the shuttle sideways to slip through the blades.

The small craft shuddered from the wind created by the powerful blades, but it zoomed through an opening with only centimetres to spare.

To add to her calculations, the shaft was narrowing. Soon there were only a few metres between the wings and the sides of the tunnel. Fiach quickly activated the wing controls so that the two side wings folded up toward the body of the ship. She felt the controls jump in her hands, but she held the ship firmly, slowing it down.

The ship was now bumping with the fierce air currents, and she bent her will toward gentling it like a skittish bantha. Between the wing instability and the power of the exhaust, the ship was close to losing control.

But it wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it. She trusted in the ship’s ability to take them where they needed to go.

She powered down the engines slightly as the shaft narrowed. She burst through the opening into the central power core. Fiach quickly avoided the giant turbines that sent energy blasts and steam down the shaft.

She eased the shuttle craft down in the tiny space and set the landing gear to lock.
 

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If the ship is in attack mode, it was likely the crew would be too busy to notice her. That was her hope.

Fiach opened the hatch and climbed down from the ship. She ran lightly toward the an overhead catwalk and, accessing the Force, leaped over the railing high above. Then she ran down the twisting metal walk past the giant generators.

The catwalk led to a small door that had a small wheel that served as a manual opening device. Fiach quickly twisted the wheel one full revolution.

She found herself in a narrow, grimy hallway.

Moving fast, she came to the end of the corridor. A window in the wide double door showed her the interior of a tech center.

The centre was staffed by tech droids. Since the weaponry was controlled at the bridge, the droids were merely monitoring the different systems.

She withdrew her lightsaber, opened the door and walked into the room, “Inspection,” she announced.

A droid who was patrolling the others turned its rotating head. “Authorisation?”
 

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Fiach’s lightsaber glowed. “Here.”

She sprang forward, slicing toward the control panel. The droids were quick. They swivelled in their stools and rose as one, blaster fire pinging from their chests and arms.

The blaster fire sang in Fiach’s ears, random and close. The room was small and bare. There wasn’t space to evade fire, and nowhere to hide. She had to rely on their lightsabers only.

Fiach kept her lightsaber moving, trying to deflect fire as she moved forward. The perfect balance of her lightsaber helped her accuracy and speed. She kicked out with one leg and sent a droid flying, then somersaulted toward another, cleaving off one blaster arm and then slicing the droid in two. On her downswing, he demolished the droid on the floor for good. Turning, he went for the third droid.

Fiach was a blur. She whirled, dived, leaped, and kicked, her lightsaber constantly moving. She held out a hand and the Force blasted a droid against the wall. Within seconds, she had demolished seven droids.

“Now for the weapons system,” she said out loud.

She raised her lightsaber overhead and then slashed down onto the control panel. Smoke rose and metal sizzled. She aimed a second blow, then a third. Soon the control panel was completely demolished.

“That should do it. Time to go.”
 

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Fiach started down the long hallway back toward the power core then halted.

It didn’t feel right to her to leave the ship. Pestana was here, within her grasp. She had a chance to annihilate a vicious slave trader who had imprisoned thousands and was responsible for the deaths of countless innocent beings.

How could she leave?

But that was not her mission and she knew it.

She turned in the opposite direction and began to run.
 

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Obviously, the pirate Pestana did not care about cleanliness aboard his ship. While the diplomatic ship was cramped, it was relatively clean. Pestana’s ship was littered with debris and the walls and floor were sticky with grime and oil. Whenever Fiach heard footsteps she quickly ducked into one of the small cargo rooms that led off the corridors.

But time was running out, and he had to quicken her pace and rely on his lightsaber to get him out of trouble. Fiach followed the corridor, being careful to keep her sense of direction. All the corridors seemed to twist around each other and intersect at the central point where she’d started. It was like searching a maze.

She was exploring the third corridor, running as fast as she dared, when he heard the unmistakable quick metallic steps of a troop of attack droids. Fiach had only seconds to decide whether to engage them or run. She chose to double back and duck into the adjacent corridor.

But this one wasn’t empty. It was full of pirates.
 

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There were at least twenty of them. They were just as surprised as she was and fumbled for their weapons. Fiach leaped forward, activating her lightsaber, ready for the first assault.

As the pirates registered her lightsaber, they seemed stunned. To Fiach’s surprise, the group in front slowly lowered their weapons. Every pirate in the room followed, laying his or her weapon on the floor.

One of the pirates stepped forward. Fiach noted that his tunic was almost in rags.

“We are at your mercy, Jedi,” he said.

Warily, Fiach kept her lightsaber activated.

The pirate spoke in a hushed tone. “I am not a pirate. I am a slave. As are my companions. Stolen from our home worlds by Pestana. Under penalty of death, we have been assigned guard duty aboard the ship. Thank the moons and stars, we have rescue in our grasp at last.”

Fiach deactivated her lightsaber. The naked desperation on the man’s face unnerved her. It was mirrored in the faces of his companions. All of them had obviously suffered great deprivations.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I have not come on a rescue mission.”

The man’s face fell, then brightened. “But you can take us with you. We will help you fight.”
 

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“I cannot.” Fiach felt these two words were the most difficult she had ever said. “I have only a small ship, big enough for me and one other.” She wanted to promise them she would return, but how could she make that promise? If she got off the ship safely, Pestana would be gone. The ship could hide anywhere in the galaxy. She believed too strongly in a Jedi promise to make one she did not know if she could fulfil.

Someone spoke from the back. “So you leave us here, like this?”

Fiach did not know how to answer. “I will do my best to help you,” she finally said. “But not here. Not now. In order to help you, I must get off this ship.”

The man swallowed. “Then we will help you.”

“No.” Fiach shook her head firmly. “That I will not allow. It will put you in danger. The best thing we can do for each other is part ways here.”

The man’s face was full of anguish, but he nodded with dignity. “We have never seen you, Jedi.”

“Thank you.”
 

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She realised now her best chance to destroy this operation was to leave this ship immediately. Besides, marking a being for death was not the Jedi way.

In her mind she replayed the slaves begging her to help them. She knew she’d turned her back on them. Abandoned them to such misery? Every day for a slave is another chance to die. Killing Pestana would free them.

She sighed audibly. She must be logical. If she wanted to bring down Pestana’s empire, she must have a plan. Sneaking aboard his ship and hoping to run into him was not enough – even if it was her usual way.

And her own death was irrelevant. It could cause the deaths of many. One miscalculation or mistake could cause Pestana to take his revenge on those he controls – the slaves.

Maybe the Force had other ideas, for suddenly, the ship lurched and entered hyperspace.
 

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Fiach had reached her ship but realised it was now futile to board it. And behind her, she sensed somone. Looking round, she saw Pestana appear on the catwalk above.

Pestana was a human, but had the size and heft of a small tree. His body seemed carved out of rock. His shaved head glinted in the dim light. As he drew closer Fiach could see various items hanging from the double utility belt he had slung around his waist. They swung with the motion of his walk. He clutched a vibro-ax in one meaty fist, and his small, glittering eyes swept the scene before him with shrewdness.

A huge Wookiee stood by his side. Fiach realized this must be Arribecca. Ammunition belts crisscrossed his hairy body and a row of blasters were strapped to his waist. A jagged scar began under the hair of his scalp and traveled through his eye down to his lip. An eye patch covered that eye, hiding the damage. Arribecca waved his vibrosword. And a woman was at his other side.
 

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Fiach wondered what her best move would be. There was no game plan for this particular situation.

Her instincts flared. Stay silent.

So Fiach said nothing as Pestana stomped towards her, the vibro-ax twirling like a child’s toy in his other hand.

Pestana stuck his head closer to the exhaust shaft. “We’ll have to figure out a way to block this from airships. Don’t want to be surprised again. Heads will roll about this one.”

Pestana turned and gave his full attention to Fiach. Fiach met his gaze squarely. She could imagine that Pestana’s gaze had the power to terrify, but it did not work on her.

“What are you looking at?” Pestana suddenly bellowed, his voice full of rage.

“She looks strong,” Pestana said, stroking his neatly trimmed black beard. “Should fetch a good price on Nar Shaddaa.”

Now that his gaze was mid-level, Fiach realized that the objects dangling from Pestana’s belt were talismans. They were objects Fiach didn’t want to think about, for some of them resembled dried flesh and she could pick out bits of hair. There were jewels and crystals as well.

Suddenly Pestana’s meaty hand reached down and jangled some of the hanging items. The bell tinkled softly, and a strange pain seared Fiach’s heart.

“Admiring my kill trophies?” Pestana asked her in a low, cunning tone. “Or do you think you might snatch a jewel or two? Think again, slave. One of your fingers or your scalp will end up hanging alongside them!”

He laughed, and the woman and Arribecca joined him.

Fiach knew she could kill him, right here, right now.

“I’d better get the slaves ready for departure,” the woman said. “We’ll be at Nar Shaddaa soon. Come, slave.”

She prodded Fiach with the butt of her electrojabber. “Might as well enjoy the ship while you can. Soon you’ll be working in the spice mines.”

“For the rest of your life,” Pestana added, still laughing.
 
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