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_ "She may not look like much, but she'll get off the ground." _

"... You've got to be joking. This isn't even a ship! Hey, I thought you said this thing would get off the ground!"

_ "It will- but after that, I'm not making any promises." _

~ Unknown Deck Master to Kyle Katarn

On the one side of the hangar a personal moment was unfolding. One of the adult students of the academy, a bat-like Chadra-Fan, was jogging in the direction of a newly-landed shuttle. He bore an expression of joy as he approached the vessel, stopping short as the landing ramp descended and a trio of other figures clambered down. Cries of joy rang out as the Jedi's mate and two children caught sight of him and rushed into his waiting arms, and for a few moments the nearby hangar crew stopped working the docking bay to watch with varying expressions of warmth.

Theirs were not the only eyes to bear witness; on the other side of the hangar Syrra felt the corners of her muzzle lift, watching the reunited family share a moment of emotion with each other.

"He's been waiting weeks for that moment," Garrett said behind her, causing her to jump slightly as she forgot he was present. "When they heard about that injury he picked up on Dantooine they pushed the New Republic for visitation. Kinda sweet, really."

Syrra glanced at her fellow student, then back to the family. "I suppose Master Skywalker has a point, then. I don't think I could find it in myself to separate such a close family."

Garrett arched an eyebrow. "Do you still not approve of relationships between Jedi?"

"It's not that I don't approve, it's just... I don't know," she admitted after a few moments of thought. "I was told that my grandfather's oldest sister never visited, that he only ever saw him three times in his life, twice as a cub. They told me the reason was because while attachment in the old Order was not exactly forbidden, where friends are concerned, it's a different story for family."

"Do you think love and family are really a pathway to the dark side, like the old Jedi?" Garrett asked.

"I mean... I can understand that we're meant to serve the galaxy, not those we value more than others." A slight pang stirred within her as she said this, watching as the student leaned in to kiss his wife sincerely. "But maybe Master Skywalker has a point. Maybe there's no harm in it."

"I just think it seems kind of silly to tell people, even Jedi, to stop feeling something as natural as love," he suggested. "We shouldn't be looking at sentient emotions as being negative."

Syrra said nothing, though inwardly she mulled on this point. After a few moments, she turned to her fellow student. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, Master Moarn said that you had a shuttle coming in for you later today to take you home, or something like that." He looked concerned. "I was a bit worried that you might be leaving. I mean, I know you probably think I'm annoying, but I don't mind that- I think you're pretty neat, even if you seem a little... stand-offish."

Syrra blinked. Prepared to correct Garrett on her presence in the hangar, she hadn't expect to hear him express concern or admiration for her. "You... what?" For a moment she found herself fumbling for words. "I mean to say... I don't think you're annoying."

"I wasn't sure," he admitted. "Master Moarn thinks I can be a bit too enthusiastic, and I guess I figured I was rubbing you the wrong way with it."

Another pang of guilt caused her to look away, now wondering if Garrett had spent the last six months thinking she hated or distrusted him, and it occurred to her how little the two had spoken. She wondered how she would feel if her patrol partners on Ekibo treated her with a cold silence- true, most of her patrols were mostly quiet, but only out of pragmatism and discipline, not animosity.

"I just don't really have much to say, I guess. I came here expecting to learn the old ways, not to strike up friendships." She paused, bowing her head. "But... that doesn't excuse me for seeming cold towards a fellow student, and for that I offer my apology. I suppose I simply don't see things the way you do, is a part of it. It's hard to find something to say when you don't see things similarly."

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his face. "I guess. Most people think I'm crazy because I love the jungle here. It's not difficult to read the creatures nearby, I did it the first day I came. But I don't think anyone I've met here understands how I feel, what it's like to marvel at the sheer amount of life there is on this moon, feeling what they feel and experiencing what they do. Still, I try to tell them to help them understand."

Syrra flinched slightly- she had not forgotten her disaster of a meditation session weeks earlier. "If it helps... I think I do understand that a little." She didn't expound on how, resolving to bury that incident away deeply from now on, but it was still an reasonable insight into what he probably felt anytime he wandered through the forests during his free time. "For what it's worth, from someone who admits she doesn't speak often, I don't think you're insane. I think Master Skywalker might have had a point about that, too- this is simply your way to understanding the Force."

"I'm glad you think so," he said, looking back to her. "I was hoping we could speak at least one last time before you left- maybe hope you understood me a little better before you head back home."

She cocked her head. "You're making it sound like I won't be back."

Garrett stared at her. "I mean... you aren't, are you?"

She blinked in confusion, then straightened up as a rush of understanding hit her with the force of a turbolaser. "Oh! No, no, I'm not actually leaving the Academy." She cleared her throat. "Though I'm certain whatever Master Moarn told you wasn't inaccurate, either. I am returning home, but only briefly. My mother contacted the Praxeum with a job request, and specifically asked for my help. The Council gathered and agreed that this would be an excellent opportunity for my first time in the field- solo."

"Ah, I get it," he replied, sighing in relief. "Master Moarn wasn't really specific about what was happening, so I got a little worried. But hey, that's great news! You get to go on your first solo mission, probably the first one out of everybody who applied for this year- gotta be proud of that."

"I am, a little," she admitted with a slight blush but genuine smile. "I just wish Master Moarn felt the same way."

"Did he object?" he asked, arching and eyebrow. "I figured he more than anyone would know you could handle it, right?"

"He thinks it might be too soon for me, and that I might require supervision. I think he just wants to ensure I don't let him down. But he relented in the end. I think he agreed because my familiarity with Ekibo and the Trian system gives me a distinct advantage over other students, and as I'm not technically a Republic citizen yet, I can claim that I have no outer-system allegiances. Besides, anything I might screw up wouldn't strain my relationship with the Republic, just the Trian system. And my mother," she added.

"Makes sense," Garrett responded, stretching again and jamming his hands in his pockets. "So when do you leave?"

"Tomorrow. I'm only here because Master Moarn wanted to confer with me on the mission details. Well... that and I need to ask one of the pilots here for a lift tomorrow."

"You don't fly?"

Syrra looked away, chagrined, though she managed a weak smile. "It's the other reason my mother didn't allow me to patrol hyperspace lanes."

"The crystal is the heart of the blade."

A small, beautifully cut sapphire floated placidly in the air, suspended as if with an invisible string, unmoving.

"The heart is the crystal of the Jedi."

Syrra let out a gentle breath, eyes shut as she concentrated and spoke in a gentle voice.

"The Jedi is the crystal of the Force."

From below the suspended jewel, several metal components were lifted into the air gently- among them was a thin cylinder, into which the jewel was secured. It rolled in the air once before slipping into the hollow shaft of a long handle, twisting into the screwed ridges until it was secure.

"The Force is the blade of the heart."

The rest of the components drew in together in tandem, slipping into or over each other as her weapon assembled itself before her, forming the rest of her lightsaber.

"All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi. We are one."

Her eyes opened slowly, drawn to the weapon still suspended in the air, a wide and warped reflection of herself and her surroundings reflecting from the smooth surface. A figure moved within the reflection.

"You have a gift for that, Padawan."

Syrra jumped at the voice, snapping out of her trance and spinning around, her lightsaber clattering to the hangar floor. The echo of her weapon dropping rang through the nearly empty docking bay as her heart raced, freezing once she saw Master Moarn standing before her, his face predictably impassive and stern.

Hours had passed since Garrett has wished her luck and left her to meditate alone, mentally preparing for her mission in the morning. Having little else to do she had decided to disassemble her Jedi weapon and reconstruct it through meditation, a skill she found helped in centering herself.

No longer alone she got to her feet and bowed to the Jedi Master quickly. "Thank you, Master."

"You'll forgive me for taking so long getting back to you, Padawan. There were details that needed ironing out between myself and Master Skywalker, concerning your first unsupervised mission." His eyes flicked towards her lightsaber, still left unattended. "I see you have found a means of centering yourself through meditation, in a fashion that draws upon your strengths. Let us hope you'll put it to considerable use in the field instead of lashing out, as you have in the past."

Syrra stiffened, feeling a burning in her cheeks. "Yes, Master Moarn. I'll be sure to." She bent to retrieve her weapon, hooking it to her belt.

"Have you seen the quartermaster yet, Padawan?"

"Not yet, Master. I thought it might be prudent to wait until I knew the mission details before selecting gear."

Moarn nodded, striding across the hangar and motioning his Padawn to follow. "Very well. In the future, make it a point to outline a basic set of gear that you might need, starting with a few days of nutrient capsules, an energy pack, a rebreather and a comlink. It is always be best to prepare as if you were leaving one day ahead of schedule, even if you have no task scheduled. There have been incidents when a mission timetable has been accelerated, or a Padawan or Knight is called for duty with little to no notice. During such changes, every second may count."

Syrra nodded obediently. "I see the wisdom in this, Master." She hesitated. "And for weaponry...?"

Moarn's face hardened for a moment, eyes closing briefly as if unwilling to speak on the matter. "I have been instructed to tell you that you may, if you wish, opt to carry a blaster as a backup weapon. Battlemaster Katarn in particular heavily endorses this practice for students who are more used to such... undignified implements." He stopped and turned to his student. "I will not hide that I do not think highly of the practice, less so for those with moderate lightsaber skill. You have shown yourself to be an exceptional blade handler, far above your peers in terms of swordsmanship. I firmly believe you can do without a blaster. But... it is your choice."

Syrra nodded. "Thank you for you counsel, Master."

The reached the end of a hangar where a lone light freighter was docked. "This will be the vessel you will be using for this mission. I am told you are not capable of piloting a ship, correct?"

The feline Padawan cast her sight down, feeling another burning sensation of shame in her cheeks. "No, Master. I confess that I never learned."

"You will need to rectify that as soon as possible. I expect that your abilities will stagnate if you can't even learn to transport yourself to your own missions- there may well be times when no one else is available to deliver you to your mission." He fixed a stern gaze on Syrra that made her feel uncomfortable, as if silently criticizing her shortcomings- she felt unable to keep herself from folding her ears back in chagrin. "Fortunately, your mission may grant you an opportunity to learn."

Her ears perked back up with interest. "Master?"

"You will, as you have gathered, be sent to Ekibo for a meeting at the Baarok estate. I'm told this is region is familiar to you. Master Skywalker has agreed to allow me the final say on whether you will be allowed to tend to this matter on your own."

A part of Syrra felt her heart drop on hearing these words, having hoped that she would be able to perform the task on her own. "I... see."

"If I find your answers sufficient, then I will allow you to proceed alone. Start by telling me what you know about the petitioner."

"Yes, Master." She shook off her worries, hoping that a facade of confidence would help in convincing him. "Iaora Baarok is my mother's sister, and is an influential voice for the planet's yu'nar, our matriarchal governing body- although she is not technically a member. She spends most of her time as a healer with her mate, my uncle Aarn. They run a medical business on Fibuli, as well as a delivery service that distributes affordable pharmaceuticals to low-income civilians throughout the Trian system and CorpSec region." She smiled a bit. "Our family is actually a bit proud of his generosity and willingness to defy the CSA." She caught Moarn's frown and ceased smiling. "Anyway, the Baarok estate and business is technically owned and run by Aarn, by decision of the matriarchs, but while Iaora is technically employed as a financial advisor, it's more of a sort of co-ownership with her mate."

"Yes, I was told you were familiar with the ones who made the request," Moarn noted impassively. "I'm told you have some manner of law enforcement experience. Do you feel you can abide by their laws while functioning as a Jedi?"

"Ekibo was my home," she assured him. "I know the laws as if they were inscribed on the inside of my eyelids, I served my time as a Trianii Ranger."

"This is the law-enforcement they referred to?"

"Yes, though it would be more accurate to refer to us as something of a system-wide police force with extensive training and the capacity to arrest and execute. Many patrol the hyperspace lanes of the Trian system, but I served as an on-planet patroller on several of our worlds, mostly Ekibo."

"How long was your service period?" he pressed.

"Around four years, since I was fifteen cycles."

"'Cycle?'"

"They are accurately approximate to 'years,'" she clarified. "I started a year later than others, when I expressed to my mother that I would rather not immediately serve as a member of the yu'nar, a position she had tried grooming me for. I insisted against it, telling her I wouldn't be fit for the job without proving I had the strength to serve our worlds first." She paused. "I'm not big on the spirituality of our culture, which permeates our art, our trade, and even our government policies, but I understood how important it was to honor our culture. Part of that, to me, was proving I had what it took to defend my people before I could even begin setting myself up as a leader for them."

Master Moarn stared at her a few moments, then shook his head. "Your determination to provide service is admirable, as is your sense of righteousness, but I do not think you are ready to deal with this alone."

The Trianii flinched. "But... Master Moarn, I'm ready for this!" she insisted.

"Soon, perhaps, but not yet," he countered. "I am concerned that the familial pressures will undermine your sense of duty. I cannot ask you to sever your emotional attachments, but they may become a detriment as you work. I will accompany you so that I may oversee your progress and intervene when it becomes necessary."

"I can handle myself!" she insisted. "Even you admitted that I was becoming proficient in Shii-Cho faster than every other student, and I have my Trianii Ranger training to fall back on if I need to!"

"You are capable in self-defense, yes, and I've no doubt you are more than a match for the everyday thugs that fester in every bar and spaceport in the galaxy- but there is more to being a Jedi than being a combatant," he hissed firmly. "Your connection to the Force and your ability to be diplomatic must also be tested, and in these areas I fear you may fall short without my guidance."

A surge of despair welled up in the Trianii, and it took great focus to push it back as she adopted a neutral voice. "With... all due respect," she stated as calmly as she could, "my service as a Trianii Ranger has given me sufficient experience in the local law and in following its protocol. As well-intentioned as the Jedi may be, I don't think my people will see it in the same way; they will have their laws take precedence. I speak only honestly and humbly when I say that I can find the best means for both to meet halfway, and accomplish my mission."

The Trandoshan stared at her critically. "Perhaps. But there is something else, is there not?"

She wavered slightly, swallowing. "I... I need this, Master Moarn. I won't improve if my paw is being held throughout my education. My mother insisted my Ranger patrols should be limited to peaceful areas on my own planet, but..." She took in a deep breath to calm herself. "I won't become a Jedi if I don't learn to stand on my own and be a bigger part of the galaxy."

The reptilian Jedi gazed at her for a nearly a minute, looking pensive. But eventually he sighed and nodded.

"Very well, then. I will acknowledge, at least, that you are the best suited among the rest of the Padawans for this task, armed with the knowledge you possess. And there is truth in your words. I will respect your desire to handle this yourself- you will be allowed to conduct your operation without my supervision."

Relief washed over her as she bowed, feeling the tension in her slip away. "Thank you master."

"That said, I will keep myself available in the event that you should need me, as a precaution," he continued. "You may need it."

She looked up, curious. "What do you mean?"

"The details of your task will be outlined by your uncle, but I will at least inform you that the basics of your mission concern the missing ships, personnel and cargo of your uncle's business on Fibuli."

Her eyes narrowed. "Pirates?" she asked.

"We do not know. The shorthand is that your uncle's business started losing crew and shipments around half a year ago with no explanation. He has currently ceased his external-system deliveries until such time the situation is resolved. It only came to his attention after you arrived at the Praxeum, which is likely why you were not aware of his troubles." He gestured to the transport. "You are to go to Ekibo with Captain Lynch on this vessel, the Truly Sorrier, and obtain further details from your kin, then discern the cause of these disappearances. Time permitting, you should take the opportunity to ask the captain to give you a basic course in avionics and space travel."

"I'll be sure to, Master. Is there anything else I should know?"

"While I am giving you the opportunity to conduct this operation without my supervision, that will not necessarily mean you will be working on it alone." Moarn regarded the young Trianii critically. "I have told you may be required to work alongside a mercenary."

Syrra jerked up at that, turning to the Jedi Master. "A mercenary?" she asked, a tinge of distrust in her voice.

"Yes, I was displeased to hear this as well," he replied with a subtle growl. "It is part of the reason I wished to oversee your progress."

"But I thought--"

"I understand your desire to prove yourself, Padawan, but this is out of my hands- your uncle has already contracted this mercenary for work." He halted and turned to her, bearing a look of concern she'd never once seen from him as he touched her shoulder. "Listen well, young one- take no chances. Do not put your trust in any man or woman who seeks to turn any grievance to profit. You'll find mercenaries a necessary evil in the universe, mere wolves waiting for opportunity to sate their greed. You are more than that, a student of the Force. Trust in the Force and in your own skill."

She nodded seriously. "I will, Master Moarn."

"At the same time, do not do anything to sully the honor of the Praxeum," he warned. "You are not only a student offering your services, you are also acting as an emissary to our Order. And do not dwell overmuch on familial ties, no matter how close you are to your aunt and uncle- you serve the greater good, now." He breathed in and sighed. "This is all the counsel I can offer you."

"Thank you, Master."

Moarn nodded. "Twilight approaches. Return to the Temple for the evening meal and get some rest. I shall not be able to see you off tomorrow morning. All the same... may the Force be with you."

And with that said, he walked away.

"Frak, I shouldn't have had--"

"By the Force, kid- face the other way, yer gonna make me crash if you blow all over the computer!"

Syrra retched hard, shuddering violently as she struggled to keep the recently-acquired contents of her stomach from shooting out of her muzzle. She hacked and coughed, managing to succeed by taking in deep, gulping breaths of air.

"...shouldn't have had breakfast," she mewled weakly.

Captain Lynch looked her over in with pity, the human putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder; his other hand had a white-knuckled grip on the flight yoke that was trying to keep the violently buckling ship upright. "Two minutes into the flight, we've barely made it into the vacuum, and you're already a hair away from ejecting your rations? How the hell did you get to Yavin IV if you get the jitters this bad?"

Syrra cringed and shivered, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she trie dot ignore the shaking around her. "L-lion nettle, works as a m-mmph... mild sedative, so I napped most of the way. I only had the (hic) three leaves, no more. And those flights weren't nearly as bad as this one."

"Fair enough," he nodded, gesturing up ahead at the darkening sky. "But don't worry, we're breaking the atmosphere now." Within seconds the buckling subsided into a gentle tremor, the sky darkening more until the vastness of space spread out before them.

"Thank goodness," she sighed, leaning back in her seat and looking up at the slightly portly, blonde-haired pilot. "The last few times I traveled with my Master for missions, I wasn't much better. In your professional opinion, do you think I'll ever get used to space travel?" she asked, wiping her eyes miserably.

Lynch nodded, checking the console in front of him. "You might feel like slag right now, kid, but I've seen worse before. My kid sister used to hate it, she'd faint just on takeoff- now she flies freighters down the Corellian Trade Spine." He grinned at her. "Don't feel bad, might just be you're not used to the Truly Sorrier. She's not a cursed ship, but I admit she ain't comfy on take-off, either."

"No kidding," she groaned.

"Aww, buck up, kid," the good-natured pilot responded, flicking an overhead switch and swinging the ship away from the horizon line of Yavin IV, just under Yavin proper. "Good news is that getting from here to Ekibo won't take too long. It's a straight shot about four hours in hyperspace, the path there is pretty well-mapped."

"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked, keeping her eyes shut and trying to focus.

"It means that folks properly mapped the region between here and the Wild Space regions and figured out there's next to nothing that we'll have to spend time trying to avoid. Try to take a straight path from here to Colomus, or as straight a path as possible, for example- you'll have to spend about three days to get around obstacles like orbiting stars, a couple black holes, a handful of gravity wells- even the Alderaanian Graveyard." He shuddered. "I'm a touch Force-sensitive myself, I don't like passing that region if I can help it."

Syrra opened her eyes slightly in curiosity. "Why not?"

"The Echoes," he replied, and when Syrra cocked her head to the side he explained. "There were roughly two billion folks on Alderaan when the Empire decided to vaporize it. Way I heard it, Jedi Masters who were still alive back then could feel all the death, even from the other side of the galaxy. You go to the Graveyard these days, you start to hear the whispers of all those poor souls. Couple of stories I've heard, some Jedi that linger too long even start to lose their minds when those Echoes turn to screaming. Never heard the screaming myself, but I sure as hell felt the Echoes. Even non-sensitives get the jitters there, I hear."

He brought his attention back to the ship and punched up a navigation chart. "The good news is that our little trip doesn't go anywhere near the Deep Core, so we're pretty much guaranteed a straight shot once we get goin'."

Syrra swallowed and nodded. "Sounds good, Captain Lynch, thank you." Her eyes flitted to a green indicator light on the pilot's panel. "And you're sure you don't mind showing me the ropes of basic piloting?"

"Not at all," Lynch chuckled. "But truth be told, you don't look like you're up for it right now. I figure you should get a couple hours of sleep if you can. Got a foldout bunk in the main hold you can curl up on for a couple of Zs. Don't you worry, we'll have plenty of time to grow your wings while you're on mission." A rapid, high-pitched beeping interrupted him momentarily. "Welp, looks like calculations are done, we're ready to hit lightspeed. Ever seen hyperspace before, kid?"

Syrra shook her head. "I was in the back of the ship anytime I flew, not the cockpit," she told him looking apprehensive.

Lynch merely grinned. "Stick around, it's a hell of a sight for first-timers."

She watched as he set the coordinates swiftly, then drew back a long handle to his right side, gasping as she felt the ship lean back, a monstrous roar bursting out from the back of the ship. Before she could ask what the sound was, she glanced forward, seeing the stars begin to deform, streaking around the cockpit viewing ports to both her sides. Whatever fear might have been manifesting in that moment disappeared as the ship lurched forward. Every star within view seemed to morph into thin beams of light, like high-intensity blaster bolts streaking around the ship, followed swiftly by an dull, explosive crack.

Then space seemed to cease to exist. Where once was the blackness of space, dotted with pure light, instead was a vast expanse of bluish hues, rippling around and in front of the cockpit like some manner of ethereal tunnel. She gaped at the sight, having never seen anything like it before in her life that could even remotely compare. "By the Force," she whispered. "It's... incredible."

Lynch chuckled. "Ain't it, though? This here what you're lookin' at is one of the greatest mysteries of the universe- hyperspace. Not even the universe's top scientists are sure what it really is, beyond it being a higher dimension used to travel to coterminous points in realspace."

"What does that mean?" she asked softly.

"Without being technical, it just means we're getting to our destination faster than if we were traveling at the speed of light," he said simply. "Don't stare too long, kid, folks have been known to go mad if they lose themselves lookin' at the void." He stretched out, grabbing a datapad from next to him. "Bunk is in the main hold if you want to use it- I'll be in the 'fresher, work out a bit of 'tension.'"

Syrra grimaced, ears flattening against her head in offense. "Please, don't be gross."

Lynch scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stood. "I may be slightly Force-Sensitive, but I ain't a Jedi celibate, kid. Ya'll get yourself a bit of sleep, though. Used to help my kid sister when she slept to the sound of a running ship." He sauntered off, kicked open a hatch opposite the passenger ramp and sealed it behind him.

Syrra stared after the captain, frowning. She was no stranger to male innuendo in her time with the Rangers. As spiritual as the Trianii could be, the males of her race seemed like the males of every other race- completely comfortable with embarrassing themselves with their "flight sticks." She shook her head, glancing back out of the cockpit.

She did manage a smile, gazing at the rippling unknown beyond the cockpit. Heeding Lynch's words, she stood up and stretched, turning away from the sight- had she never known of the Praxeum, she might never have known of such beautiful mysteries like hyperspace.

Walking with slightly stronger legs than she'd had when she boarded, she made her way to the main hold. Four hours of sleep didn't sound bad at all.

It came quickly, a dreamless rest lasting what seemed like ages. But after a while, Syrra stirred uneasily. A form was taking shape in her mind, a dim, golden aura in the distance. As far as she could tell, she had no body or voice, unable to turn or look anywhere else- her sight remained on the light before her, slowly taking shape.

A part of her was afraid, a part that tried to draw away as the aura approached her. It was at a short height, about level with her navel once it seemed to be within reach. No part of her reached out to it, apprehension and dread flooding through her.

The light changed, slowly taking shape; a hunched back, a head stretching out at the front with a pair of triangular ears, a long narrow snout at the end, and where the eyes should be were two piercing gold lights brighter than the rest; beneath the bulk of the light, four appendages formed and ended with large paws at their end, supporting the rest of it; a moderate-length, bushy tail formed at the back.

It was a shape so familiar to her, even as she recognized it as completely alien. She shivered, images and sensations of a past event flitting through her mind and body. She found she was able to step back- but only once.

The beast threw back its long, joyous howl that echoed through her ears, the sound startling the Trianii such that she felt herself falling backwards. She drew away as the creature stepped forward, but she could not sense any malice or perversion in its thoughts- if she could indeed sense it at all. Though unable to tell if her heart had been racing before, now that she was aware of her pulse a sense of peace began to fill her.

The creature changed shape again, but not completely. Even as the body lengthened, the hindpaws growing into a bipedal position, the forepaws into longer, rough hands; the face (or what little of its shape she could perceive) seemed to change only slightly. The figure, which she sensed was male, stared at her almost impassively- then without warning, reached out with his left paw, offering it to the fallen feline.

There was no fear anymore, just curiosity. She took the paw, feeling herself being raised up into a standing position, staring up into the figure's eyes. The light faded, now replaced with tired, sad golden eyes that she gazed back into- pain, sorrow and loss were all she seemed to see in them. She lifted a paw tentatively, wondering if her touch would soothe him.

Without warning, the figure disappeared.

And everything went to hell.

She wasn't sure what awoke her; the deafening alarm overhead, or the violent shock that rocked through the ship.

"Kid, get your ass up here! We got a karking problem outdoors!"

Syrra shot upright, falling out of the bunk and scrambling to get back on her feet as the ship lurched on its starboard side. A deep hissing sound could be heard somewhere in the back, accompanied by the rush of air around her ruffling through her fur. Grabbing at railing, secured chairs, anything that kept her upright, she climbed more than ran into the cockpit, Lynch struggling to maintain control over the Truly Sorrier.

"What the hell is going on, Captain?!"

Lynch grimaced. "I have no idea! I got the indicator to come out of lightspeed and just before I cut the sublight drive the port-side wing got torn off!" His hands danced across the consoles, flipping switches and handles. "We've got major damage, kid! bailout-pods are disabled, one of the propulsion exhausts is gone, and we're leaking atmosphere into the black!"

Syrra secured herself in the copilot seat. "Anything I can do, Captain?"

Lynch glanced at her, fear in his eyes, but nodded. "Do what I say and we might make it through this! Right side, there'll be a release switch labeled 'AUX', it's copilot-side only- the moment the light beneath it flashes, you pull that sucker down!" He grimaced. "Can't figure out... what the hell...!"

Syrra kept her eyes on the handle, listening to the Captain mutter to himself in a panic. "Random meteor...? Unregistered vessel, faulty sensors...?" He looked up at Syrra. "Sublight engines would have cut early if there were a gravity well! Thinkin' maybe we clipped something while coming out of hyperspace, should count our lucky stars that we didn't just outright explo-- THERE, HIT IT!"

Syrra saw it the moment it flashed, wrenching the handle downwards. She looked up as the remaining propulsion system roared- Ekibo was speeding towards them, a few distant cities visible even now, and the ship was beginning to level out slightly. For a few moments her breathing eased somewhat, hopeful that they were now out of danger- until Lynch spoke.

"Grab something and pray to whatever gods you got, kid- we're gonna bend some durasteel landing this thing!"

Syrra's teeth chattered as the ship shuddered violently, the atmospheric turbulence rattling both of them, the jet black of space brightening swiftly into a clear blue as the Truly Sorrier descended at high speed, seemingly angled far too steeply to be safe. She gave him a fearful look. "Lynch...? We aren't going to make it, are we?"

He looked grim, eyes darting side to side. "We will, I got a plan. It'll be the end of this ship's career, but it might just save us. We need to cushion the bottom of the hull before we make landfall, soften the blow. But you're going to need to concentrate, kid."

"What?"

"You need to help me reduce our airspeed. You've lifted cargo containers with the Force, I've seen you and the other Padawans do it!"

She gaped at him, immediately understanding what he was getting at, glancing out the cockpit- the ground was coming up fast. "T-this ship is easily a hundred times larger and a thousand times heavier than anything I've-"

"Kid, we are going to die if you don't set aside your doubt right now and concentrate!" He checked his console, gritting his teeth. "We have forty-five seconds!"

Syrra's heart was racing- there was no way in hell she could pull off something that impossible. No Jedi would be capable of doing so unbelievable- but it took her only five seconds to accept that she was either going to die trying to accomplish the impossible, or die doing nothing. She shut her eyes tight, trying to purge her fear, slow her heartbeat and focus on the ship. She tried not to think about how much time they had left, or how impossible this was, or the fact that she was going to be a smear on Ekibo's landscape in about half a minute.

It came sooner than she expected, the trance she felt while reassembling her lightsaber, the flow of energy coursing through her. Whether due to her desperation or because the Force somehow understood the circumstances, it seemed stronger than it had before as she expanded her influence around the ship, commanding it to slow down. A dull crunch sounded around her, but she knew the ship had not yet crashed. Her nerves seemed to scream in fear and pain as she poured all of her mental effort towards the task of altering the ship's velocity, unable to perceive whether she was successful of not- yet she didn't open her eyes to see, suspecting if she did, her concentration would falter. Best not to see the end...

She heard the pilot next to her as if at a great distance, whooping gleefully- a sharp hiss burst out from under the ship, followed by a sickening crunch as what sounded like the landing struts plowed through the terrain below them. A horrible jerk brought her out of her trance as one of the struts seemed to catch a large boulder, snapping the strut free from the ship- and she knew the strut had snapped when it glided past the cockpit window, moments after the Truly Sorrier lurched right and swung through the air, the momentum flipping the ship upside-down.

Fear returned to her and she screamed as the ship seemed to roll violently along the surface of the planet, the hull caving in around her, saved from being tossed around like a rag doll only because she had her seat harness to keep her in place. She caught a brief image of Lynch flailing in his seat, his head slamming into the console before her head snapped back and blackness overtook her.

Pain.

She'd never felt so much of it in her life. Her chest burned, both from the bruising force of the ship suddenly stopping and the acrid taste of smoke and ash in the hull. The foul air caused her to cough, the taste of blood in her muzzle; she whimpered as the reaction sent shocks of agony through her limbs, yet found the energy and sense to fumble around her seat harness and unclasp it, sliding out of her seat and onto the floor. Bracing herself for more pain to course through her sore body, she reached up at the console and pulled herself onto unsteady legs, eyes drawn to the pilot seat.

Lynch was hunched over the console, a gentle river of blood pouring off the edge, the source of the flow coming from his nose, mouth and a horrible gash over his brow- yet he was alive, eyes alert and fearful, his breathing shallow. He saw Syrra move and a look of relief seemed to wash over his face.

Syrra staggered to his seat. "Come on, captain... ship's burning, we need--"

"Can't... move..."

She froze. "What?"

"M'arm..."

The Trianii shivered, then looked to his left arm, gasping- it was mangled, stuck in the collapsed port side of the hull, crushed between two durasteel braces. She whimpered quietly, not sure how to aid him.

He supplied the answer. "S... saber..." He pointed weakly with his right hand at the weapon on her belt.

Syrra's eyes widened. "But... your arm—"

"I already... lost it, kid... only way now..."

Syrra shivered, looking at his arm again and quickly realizing that even a skilled Jedi healer would be unlikely to restore it; and with the ship on fire, there was little time to try. With an incredible sense of pity, she drew her weapon and ignited it, moving to the injured pilot's left side and steeling herself, keeping the energy blade suspended above it. With a grimace of self-loathing, she brought the blade down on his arm, just below the elbow. It went through cleanly, searing through the flesh and leaving a cauterize stump.

Lynch left out a strangled cry, gasping for breath and struggling to get out from his seat. Syrra nearly deactivated her weapon before looking around, trying to get her bearings in the unlit ship's interior. Tongues of flame flit out from around the main hold, but the passenger ramp was free of hazards, save that it was partially wrenched open a few feet and seemed unable to drop lower. Leaving Lynch behind for the moment, she rushed to the ramp, putting weight on the steps and pushing down, growling when the ramp refused to budge. Her weapon still lit, she cut the hydraulic cylinders on either side, then the hinge of the ramp itself, watching the steel hatch fall away to the ground and clattering against a rocky outcrop, some three meters below.

She returned to Lynch's side, the pilot groaning as she swung his good arm over her shoulders, wrapped her left arm around his midsection and hoisted him onto his feet, helping the maimed captain toward the damaged hatch. "Hold on, it's about a ten foot drop." Lynch nodded dimly, and the pair dropped through the hole.

Syrra landed firmly, but yelped as Lynch's legs gave out under him and brought her down further. Sore and scared at the near death experience she found herself cursing her genetics for her smaller, less muscular frame, and cursing the old gods for giving her the short straw in that regard. Yet in spite of uttering such profanities she still grabbed the pilot from under the arms, pulling him out from under the burning wreckage until they were at least a good fifty feet away. Her boot caught a loose rock and she stumbled, falling onto her back as she gasped for clean air, mewling slightly as the soreness in her chest returned.

She blinked at the bright sunlight, sitting up and looking around at her surroundings, a rush of familiarity hitting her. "We're... here?"

Baarok Estate.

The tall spire of stonework on the tallest hill could be seen about a mile away. She gaped, hardly able to believe her eyes and certain that the next time she blinked, the manor would disappear. Yet when she did, it remained- whether it was the will of the Force or an insane amount of luck, they had crashed within viewing distance of her destination. Before long she noticed a group of four figures rushing towards her, already less than a few hundred meters away. She couldn't find the strength to do much more than wait.

Three lightly-dressed Trianii laborers reached them first, a tall male with a topknot churring in her language. "<We saw your crash, are there any other survivors within?>"

Syrra shook her head, responding in her native tongue. "<There were no others, just myself and the captain- he requires immediate medical attention.>"

"<And yourself?>"

She swayed, but managed to stay upright. "<I... I am uninjured- tend to the captain, please.>"

All tension seemed to disappear as the laborers rushed to Lynch's aid, leaving fatigue in its wake and causing her to hunch forward and breathe hard, trembling slightly. Too tired to say or do anything, on the verge of passing out, a shadow to her left prompted her to finally look back up a minute later. Another person stood above her, offering a large, snow-gray paw.

Her eyes flicked up to the figure, who wore a brown captain's longcoat, a rifle on his side and concerned, kind look on his wolfish face. Darkness closed in around her, but his calm voice seemed to give her a measure of peace when he finally spoke.

"I'm Kajex Surnahm- do you need a hand getting to the manor?"