In the shadow of the Mandalore

(part 2 of) CHAPTER 1

This is going out for SCI-FI Friday.

It’s one of those challenges someone puts up and you say to yourself: “I got something that might fit into that.” And I do. I started writing this a couple of years ago. I don’t think it falls into what you’d call “Fan fiction”. Sure, it take place in the STAR WARS Galaxy long, long ago, but it doesn’t have any “familiar” faces. It’s not based on “Canon”. It takes place in what I’d call a “Lull” in the Star Wars timeline. A quiet time, if you will. The idea was to place my character in an open timeline and write a series of books about him, or stories, that span about fifty years as our hero rises to the top of the Jedi Order.

I say it’s different because it has a more realistic vibe to it. There’s no swearing in it, or sex, but that doesn’t mean the characters don’t have sex. Let’s just see how it pans out…

A young Jedi Padawan meditating in a gymnasium alone.

ii

After finishing his set routine of all seven fighting Forms and honing his reflexes with the practice droids, sitting on the floor and meditating was a welcome relief. Dax held his arms out in front of him, shaking his hands, and at the same time, taking a deep breath and holding it in. He needed to find his dhalmer; it was a Rylothi word that roughly meant reaching inside oneself and searching out the core of one’s being. With the echo of his heart still sounding in his ears, his breath came in slow, measured inhalations as he felt himself sliding away.

He turned his thoughts toward the three moons of Taris, watching as they appeared in his mind’s eye, cresting the horizon of the planet the way it used to look. Before.

The Three Sisters, he thought, always looking for their Brother.

Sometimes, you need a focal point, he remembered Kashiefi telling him. You need something you can call up out of your memory, a sight, a sound, a scent—a feeling—but something you can find in your mind’s eye that will be a comfort to you. And when you find it, latch on to it, she added.

She may have been the voice of reason in his life, but the Three Sisters were his comfort, Dax thought. That’s why it was so easy for him to imagine the planet the way it used to be, before it was destroyed by the Mandolorian War, the machines, and technology; when Tarisians lived their lives according to the myths and legends of their ancestors a hundred millennia ago; when the Sisters were the cornerstone of their Religion.

He searched his mind for the Rogue Moon—the Wandering Brother they called him—but its orbit lay opposite from that of the Sisters, forever out of reach.

That was the heartache of the Sisters, he remembered Kashiefi telling him; that’s why the moons always crest the planet draped in orange; that’s why orange is the Tarisian colour of mourning, she added. But more importantly, it’s why on the one day of the year when the four moons are in conjunction—when all the siblings are clothed in brilliant light—it’s a day for planet-wide celebrations.

He remembered dropping to the Rogue’s surface for the Padawan test two weeks earlier. The Rogue may have been with the Sisters once, but now it sat in the middle of an asteroid field called Rogue’s Halo. When the moon rose, the asteroids circled it like an aura. He’d heard there was once upon a time five moons orbiting Taris, but a massive asteroid smashed into one of the moons—obliterating it and sending the Rogue spinning out of its orbit.

He liked the story of the Three Sisters better.

So why do I feel so nervous about seeing my father?

Where’s the peace and control of the Force now, he asked himself, losing his train of thought. He shook his head and laughed at himself—at the unease he felt—reminding himself how he’d just passed the Jedi Trials. If he could do that, surely he could face his father? If it was anything, it was his father’s unfelt influence. His knew his father prided himself with having a Jedi for a son—his sister made certain to tell him that much about the man—but Dax was afraid his father would try to use his authority over him to control him, the same way he controlled his brothers.

You don’t control a Jedi; that leads to Darkness, a voice deep in his mind prompted him, and he found himself nodding in agreement.

Someone entered the gymnasium and Dax opened one eye, letting his thoughts slip away from searching out the past and feeling the comfort of the Force slip away with it.

“Kashiefi,” he said with a warm smile.

Kashiefi was the feminine word for Master in Rylothi.

Allyssa P’oh

iii

Allyssa Po’h had what some on the Jedi Council back on Coruscant considered a reputation for recklessness. She was sometimes thought of as a renegade. The last thing her Kashiefa did before leaving to head the High Council on Coruscant was convince the Tarisian Council a Padawan would help to settle her down. It turned out that Dax wasn’t the calming influence on her the Council hoped he would be, but then, they had no idea how far she’d fallen, did they?

Her skin was a light violet colour, her eyes a tawny yellow in league with a smouldering hint of gold. Her twin lekku rested on slender shoulders as if they were childhood braids, mirroring the tawny colour of her eyes, but streaked with a darker shade of purple. She was thin, well-muscled, and very much a female who still wore light make-up and fresh scented perfume with an oversized red Jedi cloak overtop a small halter and tight fitting leggings. She preferred her thigh high boots rather than Jedi issued armour; hers were specially designed. Made of Farlenian leather, the tops folded over her knees. She didn’t wear them because she thought they looked good—which they did—but because the leather was tough enough to turn aside a blaster bolt. It was easier than wearing Jedi armour, she said, because they moved with her body.

Inside the fold along the top flap of her left boot were four button-down pockets where she kept a selection of different weapons. On the outside of her right boot, there was a small E-851 blaster in a holster just above her ankle. Her lightsaber was hooked to a utility belt that holstered a Fordis-G6 blaster in the small of her back, behind her cloak. As well, she had a vibro-knife and other assorted weapons.

“Is this how you prepare for your family?” she laughed, grabbing a small chair as she walked into the room—her heels marking out her hurried steps—before she straddled the chair and sat in front of him. “Meditating? That doesn’t say much for them, does it? Or is it you?” she added, tilting her head to the left.

She leaned her arms on the back of the chair, looking down at him with a smile. She was a beautiful woman, but then, Twi-leki women were considered more beautiful than most. She could see he was nervous, and told herself she could understand the sudden onslaught of nerves; she would’ve probably felt the same way if she were in his position.

But there’s no one who wants to come see me, is there?

She turned her head slightly and saw the helmet hanging on the wall. There were old blaster marks dotting the walls like paint splatters, as well as newer ones, she could see. His Jedi cloak was thrown to the side, his lightsaber dropped on top.

“They’re family in name only, Kashiefi,” he said, opening one eye and looking at her with a lop-sided grin.

She turned to look at him and nodded.

“But family all the same,” she reminded him.

She stood up, walking to the large windows overlooking the cityscape, marvelling at the immensity of it all. As one of the larger city planets in the galaxy, Taris had managed to adapt through the millennia.

“I don’t have a family, Dax. Remember?” she said, staring at his reflection in the window. “No one congratulated me when I passed my Padawan tests; no one came out to see on my Graduation Day,” she added, refocusing and looking out at the night.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about it,” Dax said softly. “But I don’t need my family. Everything I need, I have right here,” he smiled, picking up the towel and wiping the sweat off his arms.

“It’s for the best, I suppose,” she said, nodding at his reflection. “But still, your sister? I’m sensing a growing fondness for her? Again. As it should be, or not?”

He smiled. “I’d like to say no. But that’s because I think the past has proven that one’s family can be a distraction.”

She grinned at him.

He reminds me too much of myself at that age.

“But at least you have a family.”

He laughed.

“Ah yes, my Father and his brood.” Something in his voice told her not to pursue it.

“And your brothers? You have two brothers?”

“Three; plus their wives and children,” he grinned. “I have a grandfather too, in case you didn’t know.”

“Him, I know about. But such a large and prosperous family; you never told me.”

“I don’t think I fully understood just how prosperous they were.”

“No? Does that embarrass you? Red Star Shipping is one of the largest companies in the Republic; your family is one of the richest families in the quadrant.”

“‘From the Core to the Rim.’ That’s the family motto in case you didn’t know,” he smiled.

“I think every family should have a motto.”

“Did yours?”

She shook her head, turning around and meeting his eyes as she leaned up against the window. If she tried hard enough, she could almost see the streets below her. Instead, she let herself slide down the window and sit on the floor.

“Your father’s the president of the Star-Merchants Guild,” she reminded him, crossing her legs.

“Ah yes, Kazi’Zanza-Imran, Lord Fitt, not only the president of the Guild, but a founding member,” Dax said with a note of dull sarcasm. “Like I said, they’re my family in name only, Kashiefi. They’re strangers to me. There’s a reason why I never say anything about them. I don’t know them.”

“And does that frighten you?”

He smiled and shook his head, using the towel and wiping at the sweat gathering along the base of his neck again. “No. It doesn’t frighten me; not in that sense. I might be nervous about meeting them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. The only reason I’ve been on the holo with my sister for the last four months is because you encouraged it,” he added, and she nodded.

“I did,” she said. “Your grandfather contacted me and said he thought she might need someone to talk to. He thinks she might be Force sensitive—like himself, he said—and somehow, she hid it from the family and the Searchers. I thought it might not be a bad thing if she talked to you. Was I wrong?”

“Who can say?”

“Did I overstep my bounds? I had a family once; I had a sister, too.”

“I know. You said I needed mine as much as she needed me, and maybe you’re right; I don’t know. I’ve only met her three times in my life, and one of those times was at my mother’s Internment. Have you ever been to an Araxi Internment? No? Well, I’m sure one’s pretty much the same as another. They probably die the same on Ryloth as they do here on Taris, or Araxis,” he added, and she found herself nodding in agreement.

Death is death, she thought, and whether you’re expecting it or not, it can be pretty devastating.

“Death is the last stop for us all,” he added. “But we’ve become friends through the holo-feeds, my sister and me,” Dax said brightening, and she found herself smiling.

“What about your brothers?”

“You had brothers,” he said, turning his head slowly and looking at her.

“And you know they all died when I was still a youngling,” she said, hoping the tone in her voice would warn him to leave it alone. She preferred to be secretive when it came to her family.

“I didn’t really know my brothers too much when I was younger,” he said. “I always thought—later, I mean, when I got older—that they resented me because I was different; you know, I did things they couldn’t—nobody could—and maybe they thought I was a freak? Looking back, I suppose I was a freak—”

“Don’t ever think that way about yourself. You’re better than that, and you know it.”

“I’m pretty sure they were glad to see me go, anyway,” he added, looking across at her, nodding. “The only ones who didn’t want to see me go, were my mother and my grandfather. My sister was too young to know any different.”

“How old were you when they tested you? I feel I should know this,” she said, dropping her arms and drumming her fingers on her lap in frustration.

Dax smiled and laughed. “You should? Why? You never knew in the first place. When you took me as your Padawan, the first thing you told me was to hit the books and stay out of your way. And I did.”

“I said that? Was that wrong?” She smiled at the memory of those early years.

“It wasn’t what the average Kashief said to their Padawans, was it?”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t. Being Kashiefi to a Padawan is a learning process, for both the Padawan as much as the Kashiefi,” she smiled.

“As for your question, they didn’t have me tested—the Jedi, I mean. It was my father. He picked up on it. I think I was four; I’d like to think five?”

“And how old were your brothers?”

“Rev’s eight years older. He would’ve been about twelve.”

“He was a child, Dax. You all were. Now, they have children of their own and they understand how mean they were to you. It’s all about forgiveness.”

“For who? Them? Or me?”