As a Christmas gift to the community, here's the first chapter of my new fanfic, spanning all classes.
Defender-class light corvette
10 days after the Battle of Dromund Kaas
Lord Scourge rubbed his forehead as he awoke. He could not feel tired, of course, being immortal, but he would be awfully hard-pressed to describe what he felt now if he wasn’t tired.
He walked into the mess hall and walked over to the refrigeration unit. He couldn’t taste, either, so it did not really matter what he ate. Frowning, he took a fist-sized fruit out and took a bite out of it. He was sure the juice running down his chin should’ve been delicious.
“Mornin’, sunshine!” Archiban Kimble said.
Scourge mumbled and went on chewing. He did not like any of the beings aboard this ship, least of all Doc, but he did not hate them, either–because he did not have emotions.
“Hello,” Scourge said.
“What rumpled your shorts?” Doc asked.
“I do not wear ‘shorts’,” Scourge replied. “And if I did, I would certainly not allow anyone to rumple them.”
Doc burst into laughter, apparently believing that to be funny. But Scourge did not understand humor, any more than he could taste, or hate, or be tired. So he grunted and bit into the fruit again.
Kira entered next, her long robe slung around her, covering her bedclothes. She rubbed her eyes and Scourge, despite his emptiness, found the condition of her hair somewhat amusing.
“Whoa, baby,” exclaimed Doc. “Bad night?”
“Yeah,” Kira replied. “Jasin…he couldn’t sleep, so he got up and went down to Tython. After that, I couldn’t sleep either, but I just stayed in bed. Because I was tired.” She yawned. “Still am. Doc, give me a packet of your energy pudding to wake me up.”
“No way!” Doc said. “I only have a week’s worth left, and we’re not going to get more supplies in for another two, at least.”
“I need to wake up!” Kira snapped. “Either you give me energy pudding, or I get myself some caf. And you know how dark I drink my caf.”
“Fine!” Doc exclaimed. “I’ll make the caf, you get your energy pudding. One packet.”
Scourge shook his head and finished off his fruit, just as Sergeant Rusk entered and grabbed a packet of dry rations. Scourge could not understand how the man could eat those–and he didn’t taste.
“What a crew,” Scourge said.
Rusk looked at him and spooned some more dry rations, then glared at Scourge in such a manner that suggested he didn’t find that statement appropriate.
“We’re more than a crew,” Kira said. “We’re a family. Well, most of us.”
“Yeah,” Doc agreed. “You’re the wife, I’m the handsome brother, Rusk’s the grumpy uncle, T7 is the pet, and Scourge…he’s the cousin nobody talks about.”
“How flattering,” Scourge replied wryly.
“And Jasin’s the patriarch,” Kira said. “He’s the most important out of any of us.”
“Indeed,” Scourge replied. “He was the only one who has ever managed to defeat the Emperor. He must be kept alive until we are sure–sure–that the Emperor is truly dead.”
He scratched one of his facial tendrils and thought about it. Jasin said the Emperor had brought down the Dark Temple and vanished, dead. Jasin also said he’d felt the Emperor’s death. But Scourge was tied to the Emperor, and he hadn’t felt it. It worried him.
He tilted his head. He felt it in his empty heart–the only feeling he had left, other than urgency. The Emperor…Scourge believed he was alive.
Jedi Temple, Tython
10 days ABDK
Jasin entered the meditation chamber and made sure it was empty before he sat down. Blast, but he was tired. He drew on the Force to relax his body and replenish his energy.
He hadn’t slept well in weeks, not since he had learned that Lord Methic, the new Emperor’s Wrath, was his brother, Malakai.
He hadn’t told Gareb, not yet. Gareb, his cousin, was on the Jedi Council–no, if he knew it would be a disaster, because the entire surviving Council–Satele Shan, Jaric Kaedan, Shol Bestros, Gnost-Dural, and Bela Kiwiiks–would soon find out, too.
Jasin grunted and tried to empty his mind, but the thought of Methic–Malakai–being a Sith Lord, could not be forgotten. Finally, he stood and walked to the Temple’s training ground.
To his surprise, one of the men on the grounds was Jaric Kaedan of the Council. Kaedan looked up, saw Jasin, and gave a respectful nod. In unspoken agreement, they walked toward each other.
“Master Kaedan,” Jasin said.
“Master Carrick,” Kaedan replied.
The Council member drew his blue-bladed saber and raised it in the starting position of Ataru; both hands held to his right side, the blade held at an angle away from his body. Jasin took the Shien stance; his saber held above his head, two-handed, and the blade pointed backwards.
Then, as one, they exploded into action. Their blue blades collided in midair, bounced back, and clashed again, from the opposite direction. Kaedan swung low at Jasin’s leg, and he leapt over the blade and brought his blade down toward Kaedan’s head.
Kaedan swung away and held his saber in front of him at arms’ length, a determined look on his face. Jasin leapt in, lightsaber sweeping. As his blade came to his side, he flipped it into an unorthodox backhand grip and slashed at Kaedan. The Master blocked the blade, spun to the side, and swept his blade at Jasin’s back.
Jasin, in a flash, flipped his lightsaber back to its right-side position, and brought it back to block the Jedi Master’s sweep. They froze their, blue blades connected. Then they laughed in unison.
“Skillful as always, Master Jasin,” Kaedan said.
“And your skills are unparalleled,” Jasin agreed.
“I meant to speak to you,” Kaedan said. “I am being sent by the Council to Ilum with Commander Rans. I was wondering if you’d like to assist in that battle. We could use all the help we could get.”
Jasin nodded. “Will do,” he agreed. “I’ll assemble the crew.”
One week later
Jedi Temple, Tython
15 days ABDK
Gareb, Master of the Jedi Council and cousin of Jedi Master Jasin Carrick, slipped his shirt on and ran a hand through his unruly mop of hair. He needed to get it cut, said Master Kiwiiks, but it had been this way since he’d been a noble of Phaeda, and he wasn’t going to change it now.
The Council was about to meet about the battle of Ilum, which Gareb had just returned from. To their sorrow, they had learned that Jaric Kaedan had been killed in the battle–leaving yet another seat on the Jedi Council open.
Not wasting a moment, Gareb clipped his saber to his belt and exited his quarters. He preferred to live aboard his ship–however, when the Council was in meeting, he had often had to bed here, on Tython.
As he entered the Council chambers, those already there–Kiwiiks, Shol Bestros, and Satele Shan–nodded to him. He nodded back and took his seat. A moment later Gnost-Dural entered and sat in his place.
“No doubt you’ve all heard of Kaedan’s death,” Satele said sorrowfully. “He was a champion of our Order, and he will be missed.”
Kiwiiks nodded in agreement.
Bestros raised the big question. “Who will take his place on the Council?”
Gnost-Dural rubbed his chin. “It should be one who has displayed the utmost loyalty, and the best of intentions.”
Satele nodded. Gareb sat back and closed his eyes. He flipped through a list of Jedi Masters in his mind before he decided on a name.
“Degan,” he said.
Satele looked over at him. Degan, a member of a long heritage of Jedi, had been one of the Order’s top Shadows since the beginning of the Cold War. She had won victories across dozens of worlds.
“Agreed,” Satele said.
“Agreed,” Gnost-Dural said.
“Agreed,” Kiwiiks and Bestros chorused.
“We also need to find a replacement for Orgus Din,” Satele added.
Gareb felt a twinge of pain–Orgus had been his cousin Jasin’s Master, and though they had seldom interacted, Orgus had struck Gareb as a paragon of the Jedi Order and a true hero.
“Of course when they have recovered from their ordeals, Syo Bakarn and Tol Braga will retake their seats on the Council. But we will need another, one to take Orgus’ place.”
The Jedi Masters sat back to contemplate the enormity of the decision. How could one replace a hero like Orgus?
“How about Jerbhen Hulis?” Bestros asked.
Like Bestros, Jerbhen Hulis was a Miraluka, the species of blind Force-sensitives. Hulis had proved invaluable during the Great War in dealing with the Sith Emperor’s apprentice, Exal Kressh, when she had betrayed the Empire.
“Hulis has denied every position we’ve offered,” Kiwiiks argued. “He would not accept this.”
“Agreed,” Satele said.
“Somminick Timmns,” Gnost-Dural said.
Master Timmns, former apprentice of Jedi Master Nomen Karr, had proven himself on Belsavis when he had worked alongside a Sith Lord to recapture the Sith Lord Darth Ekkage.
“I agree,” Gareb said.
“As do I,” Kiwiiks said.
“Agreed,” Bestros added.
“Then it’s decided,” Satele said. “May the Force be with us. Anything else?”
Gareb decided against mentioning that the Sith Lord Timmns had worked with–the same one he had fought on Ilum–had been his cousin.