Star Wars, page 7
“For your trials. For you to become a Jedi Knight.”
The room seemed to shift beneath Rooper’s feet. She felt a welling sense of excitement, tinged with a sliver of apprehension—Silandra hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said it was an important day. Rooper had been a Padawan for over ten years—since the age of eight. She’d been longing for this moment for months, and now that it was finally here, she didn’t even know what to say.
“Rooper?” Silandra squeezed her shoulder again.
Rooper tried to suppress the sudden doubts crowding her head. “You’re certain?”
Silandra offered her a kindly smile. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then listen to me. It’s time. I’ve watched you grow, Rooper, from a headstrong youngling to a brave, caring, incredible young woman. A Jedi. You make me proud every single day. You are more than ready for whatever lies ahead.”
Rooper felt a burst of pride—not pride in herself but in what the two of them had achieved together, for the Jedi Order and for the people they’d sworn to protect.
She could do this. Whatever Silandra had planned. Today would be the day she became a Jedi Knight.
“All right,” she said. “What do I have to do?”
Silandra grinned. “You have to find my shield.”
“Your shield?”
“Yes. That’s right. Find it and bring it back to me here at the temple.”
Rooper frowned. She knew Jedi faced their trials in all kinds of different ways—usually in a manner designed by their masters to challenge them as individuals, to play to both their strengths and weaknesses—but a game of hide-and-go-seek? Rooper had fought raiders and Enforcer droids, led relief missions into hostile war zones, uncovered secrets that had brought down oppressive fiefdoms—and all Silandra asked of her was to return her shield? There had to be more to it than that—some message buried in the task for her to unpack, a lesson Silandra felt she still needed to learn. Rooper just had to work out what it was. “So, you’ve hidden it somewhere?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Silandra. “But I can assure you, it is a fitting challenge.”
Rooper nodded, her thoughts already sprinting ahead, searching for the hidden catch, the key that would unlock the true test at the heart of Silandra’s game. “All right,” she said. “I’ll find your shield.”
“Only one who is humble might uncover the path towards greatness,” said P3-7A helpfully.
Silandra glanced at the droid. “Oh, and you can take Peethree. For company. He knows nothing about the location of the shield, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate his witty aphorisms while you carry out your hunt.”
“I’m sure,” said Rooper drily, realizing that this was likely another part of her challenge. “So, not even a clue where to start?”
Silandra shrugged, her expression mischievous. “That would be cheating.”
Rooper sighed theatrically as she made for the door, beckoning for P3-7A to follow. “To think I used to like you . . .” she said, patting her hips to ensure her lightsaber hilts were safely clasped in their holsters.
“Don’t forget,” Silandra called after her as she hurried down the corridor, “follow your instincts.”
Rooper grinned. She was going to enjoy this.
“Right, Peethree. If you were Master Sho, where would you hide your shield?”
P3-7A emitted a pneumatic hiss from somewhere deep in his workings. “The road to enlightenment is paved with trials to test the unworthy. Only those willing to traverse such uncertainty with true purpose might reach their goal.”
“Master Sho was right,” teased Rooper. “You really don’t know anything useful.”
P3-7A gave a shrill beep of annoyance by way of reply.
They’d left the temple grounds behind a short while earlier—Rooper was certain that Silandra wouldn’t have concealed the shield close by—and had walked through the edge of the forest toward a familiar glade. Rooper could hear nothing but the distant shriek of woodland birds and other local fauna—a cacophony of trills, chirrups, and hooting calls that had become a familiar background texture during her times on Batuu. This was a place she’d gone to find peace, time and time again.
“Well, I’ve followed my instinct. And it’s brought me here.” She breathed in the pleasing scents of damp soil and tree sap. “Perhaps this is what I’ve been missing all day.” She lowered herself, cross-legged, to the ground. P3-7A watched her impassively, his photoreceptors tracking her every move.
“Now, where has she hidden you?”
Rooper followed the same process she’d undertaken in the meditation chamber, steadying her breathing, closing her eyes, reaching out with the Force. Colors swirled, and the forest around her bloomed to startling, vibrant life. Rooper tried to visualize the shield, tracing its golden metal frame with her mind’s eye, just as she had so many times with her fingertips, cleaning it for Master Sho.
She pushed her mind outward, through the swirling colors of the forest, seeking an echo of the familiar shield. . . .
Then, just as before, her senses snapped back to her physical form, sitting there atop the damp leaves on the forest floor, her concentration broken.
Rooper sighed. “Well, if the Force isn’t going to be any help, logic will have to suffice.” She got to her feet, brushing the dirt from her pale robes. “And don’t you say a word,” she added, shooting a warning look at P3-7A.
“Now, let me think. . . .” She turned on the spot, racking her brain. Where were Silandra’s favorite places? The ones she thought no one else knew about, where she went to get away from the temple when she was seeking peace and solitude.
Rooper snapped her fingers as a sudden thought occurred to her. “There’s a tree,” she said, starting off at a run. “Come on, Peethree.”
Rooper wove a jagged path through the undergrowth, dodging around the boughs of the immense trees as she ran. P3-7A jetted along behind her, his propulsors hissing.
After around fifteen minutes of running, her breath ragged, she skidded to a stop as she reached another large clearing, in the shadow of one of the ancient towering trees Batuu was justifiably famed for. This one stood taller than the rest—the tallest tree for kilometers in any direction—and high above Rooper’s head, a multitude of branches erupted from the central trunk to form a broad canopy.
This, she knew, was one of Silandra’s favored meditation spots, away from the bustle of the temple and the risk of interruption. So far as Rooper knew, Silandra visited this tree most days when they were on Batuu. She had similar locations on Geptish, another world they occasionally used as a stopover between missions. Could she have left the shield there for Rooper to find? Could it really be that simple?
Rooper circled the base of the tree, searching for any sign that the shield could have been hidden among the snakelike knots of moss and roots. There was nothing. The ground had not been disturbed, and there were no cavities in the wood big enough to harbor an object as large as the shield. There was, however, a large scuff mark on the bark of the tree, at around head height. It looked as if it could have been made by a booted foot.
Rooper peered up at the canopy high overhead. A low groan escaped her lips. Surely Master Sho couldn’t have gone to such lengths as to hide the thing up there? Where was the lesson in it? Where was the test? It seemed unlikely. . .but then, she was already there. It would pay to at least take a look.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Rooper as she backed away from the tree. She took a running start and then leapt, propelling herself upward using the Force. One booted foot struck the tree trunk, and she bounced, pushing herself higher with the momentum. She threw her hands out just in time, fingers curling over the lip of a large branch.
She hung there for a moment, around twenty meters from the ground, her feet dangling. Her arms were already starting to ache. Gritting her teeth, she hauled herself up, pivoting until she was sitting astride the branch. It bowed a little under her weight.
Rooper glanced down to see that P3-7A had remained—sensibly—down below. She looked around, trying to get an idea of the maze she faced up there in the canopy.
Forrians—little furry mammals that harvested dried berries from the forest floor—scooted around in droves, nervous of the intruder who had suddenly appeared in their midst. Rooper tried to give off calming vibes. The creatures had vicious claws that they hooked into the tree’s bark for grip, and she didn’t want to find herself on the wrong end of them.
There was no sign of the shield. She’d half expected to find it resting in the crook of two branches in the lower canopy, but Master Sho wasn’t making it easy for her. With a sigh, she started to climb.
As she pulled herself up through the thinning branches, she found herself reflecting on the path ahead of her. As a Jedi Knight, she would leave behind the comfort of her life as a Padawan, away from the reassurances and direction of her master. The thought was thrilling but in some ways daunting, too.
She was ready, though. She knew it, just as Silandra did. Ready to carve her own path, to continue the great work of the Jedi, and to one day even take a Padawan of her own.
She wouldn’t hurry to undertake that particular challenge, however—she was only just coming to terms with her own truths, her own personal reality. There’d be time for teaching others later. Much later.
She knew what sort of teacher she would try to be, though, when the time eventually came. Silandra had set the best of all possible examples—she had helped Rooper learn that a Jedi’s role was not to seek adventure but to help wherever help was needed, in whatever way it was needed. To show people the path to peace or safety, be that through initiating conversation, leading by example, wielding a lightsaber, or holding a shield. It was a lesson that Rooper had taken to heart and had strived to embody. She would likewise try to pass that lesson on to her own Padawan when the time came.
Rooper fought her way through a thicket of branches, which sprang back against her every attempt to push them out of the way, whipping her hands and face. She felt blood seep from a shallow cut on her cheek and cursed as she clung to the central trunk of the tree for grip. The canopy was swaying, the branches thin and pliable.
And still there was no shield.
Well, then. Silandra hadn’t hidden it up there. The whole exercise had been a waste of time. Still, at least the view was . . .
“Ahhh,” said Rooper, her eyes settling on an outcropping of sand-colored rock several kilometers away, on the other side of the narrow band of forest. It was a spot that commanded an epic view of the whole region, taking in the Jedi temple, the village of Peka, and the surrounding countryside. A trio of listing stones capped the vantage point, marking it as a site of ancient worship and reverence, although to what religion or creed, Rooper was unsure. It was, however, another of Silandra’s favorite spots on Batuu. And that meant it was another possible hiding place.
Wiping a smear of sticky blood from her face, Rooper began her descent.
“Logic is the language of droids and machines; faith is the language of true understanding.”
Rooper glanced over at P3-7A, who glided along beside her as she made her final, breathless ascent to the ring of stones on the top of the ridge. “Very helpful, Peethree,” she muttered sarcastically between gasps.
She was still trying to work through Silandra’s game, to retro engineer the test, to figure out what it was she was really supposed to do. She didn’t actually expect the shield to be there, among the standing stones, but she was trying to think like her master, to gain the same perspectives by visiting some of Silandra’s favorite locations. If she could think like Silandra, maybe she could see to the heart of this trial and work out what to do next.
She fought off a sudden, creeping sense of doubt. She’d felt so confident when she’d set out, so ready to face her trial. But what if she couldn’t locate Master Sho’s shield? Wasn’t Silandra taking a terrible risk, hiding it somewhere out there, where someone else might happen upon it and claim it as their own? So far as Rooper knew, the shield was an ancient artifact of unknown origin that had been passed from Jedi to Jedi across the void of centuries, since the days of the Old Republic, or perhaps even earlier. It was a priceless relic, irreplaceable, and revered by many in the Order as a symbol of the Jedi’s true role in the galaxy—to be a shield for those who could not shield themselves. To hold back the darkness. To protect those most in need of help.
Silandra had inherited the shield from her own master well before Rooper had ever met her. She’d recited stories to Rooper of the shield’s previous owners: legendary Jedi such as Bran Ath’ Morath, who’d fought against the terrible Sith Lord Darth Caldoth, and Carok Hittak, who’d once set out on a quest so far beyond the Outer Rim that it had taken him almost two decades to find his way home, and who’d maintained to his dying breath that the shield had been the one thing that had kept him going all the time he’d been lost.
Come to think of it, Rooper was certain that she’d never known Silandra to willingly let it out of her sight. She’d explained to Rooper that even she was but a temporary custodian of the relic and that it would outlive them all, continuing to serve the people of the galaxy long into the future.
Why, then, had she gone and hidden it somewhere in the wilds of Batuu?
Tired from her exertions, Rooper stood for a moment to take in the breathtaking view from the top of the stone ridge. Batuu, she considered, was a beautiful world. Yes, there was hardship, and bleakness, and corruption, but there was also life, and light, and such beauty that it made Rooper’s heart sing. From there, the Jedi temple was hidden among distant rolling folds of foliage, as if the morass of trees and leaves and dancing flocks of birds had swallowed the complex whole. She was closer to the village of Peka, though, and could just make out the distant dwellings in the fading light, the tiny people scurrying through the streets like ants. It had been some time since she’d visited the place, although she knew the farmers traded regularly with the folk at the temple.
Having caught her breath, Rooper slowly circled the ring of ancient standing stones, wondering if, behind one of them, she’d catch sight of a golden gleam and find the shield propped against it, reflecting the dimming light of the setting suns.
It was not to be. The shield wasn’t there. There was nothing but the wind, howling through the old stones, singing a sad lament.
It was growing cold, and soon the light would fade completely. Rooper considered attempting to meditate again, to see if the presence of the old stones might help restore her concentration, but she knew that wasn’t really the answer.
Rooper leaned against one of the stones, feeling its chill touch through the fabric of her robes. She traced the lines of the tattoos that covered her inner forearms—swirling, intricate patterns of black and gold ink, describing scenes from some of the ancient frontier mythologies she’d studied, each of them a moral tale embedded with a lesson. Messages she’d taken to heart—the peasant who’d defeated the oppressive king through patience, the greedy prospector who’d reached too far into the gloomy expanse of the unknown regions and returned with more than he’d bargained for, the culture that had obliterated itself by becoming too insular and refusing to accept newcomers. But as comforting as they were, there was nothing in these old stories that might help her find the shield.
She had to think like Silandra. The trial was all about the shield.
So what was the shield for? What purpose did it serve?
It was a symbol; that much was clear. A talisman that Silandra carried with her, as both a reminder to herself and a signal to others that she was a protector first and a warrior second.
Yet the shield was also a tool. It stood for all that, of course, but it could be used—was used—to actually protect people. To defend them against those who would wish them harm.
Was that, then, the truth at the heart of this quest? That Silandra had hidden this symbol so Rooper might find it again and use it to protect those in need?
It felt right. It felt like the sort of message Silandra might encode in her trial. A reminder not to forget the most important lesson she’d ever taught Rooper: that her role as a Jedi was to protect others.
Rooper peered out at the darkening horizon and smiled. And where was she likely to find people around there?
Peka village.
Waving for P3-7A to follow, she began her scrambling descent down the hillside.
Peka was a large village, accessed by a long, packed dirt road that cut through a swath of towering trees, which Rooper had observed from her vantage on the outcropping earlier. It was growing dark as she made her way along the central avenue, past the first of the dwellings, where the villagers had already lit lamps and were beginning to cluster inside, settling down to their evening meals. The scent of roasting vegetables made Rooper’s stomach growl.
The villagers there were, in Rooper’s experience, a friendly and peaceful bunch who kept largely to themselves. They traded fresh fruit and vegetables with the temple and had asked for help on only one or two occasions that Rooper was aware of—when raiders, pushed back from their usual hunting grounds in the Outer Rim by the Hutts, had taken to launching petty raids on some of the smaller outposts on Batuu and other nearby worlds. The Jedi had helped discourage them.
Ahead, the central avenue opened into a large plaza, where more dwellings were situated in a circle around a single imposing tree. It towered above the rooftops of the village, its thick ebon trunk gnarled and knotted. To one side of the plaza, a small group of beings were gathered in the light of one of the buildings—a workshop, by the look of the place—while a younger man stood hunched beneath the boughs of the great tree, hugging himself, worry written large on his brow.
Sensing a spirit in need of consolation, Rooper made a beeline for him. P3-7A trailed in her wake.
“Hello?”
The man, who clearly hadn’t heard her approach, almost leapt out of his skin. His body gave a shuddering jolt, and he took a backward step, looking at her with wide, staring eyes.
