Star Wars: Crucible 9-10

Chapter 9



A lone DUM-series service droid walked out of a supply shop in Mos Keto, carrying a box of tools and electronic equipment awkwardly in its skinny metal arms. It paused at the side of the street and made a show of looking both ways – despite having its single photoreceptor blocked by the crate it carried. The skinny little clam-headed droid made it half way over the street when a speeding swoop-rider on his bike rounded the corner and caught the automaton’s head with one of his swoop’s steering vanes. A shrill wail of terror and despair split the air as the droid’s head was sent flying upward even as its decapitated body dropped to the ground along with its supplies, and the swoop-rider continued heedlessly on to the town’s cantina.

The despairing wail continued as the disembodied head fell down out of the sky toward a hooded and cloaked figure loading supplies into the back of a speeder. Without turning or looking up, the figure gestured subtly with its hand and the clam-shaped head bounced off an invisible wall, just inches from striking the humanoid himself, and then landed at his feet. The hooded being smirked and finally turned about, revealing a cream-skinned face with a dark sun-visor worn over his eyes, and two tell-tale lekku draped over his shoulders that identified him as a Twi’lek.

Crijo Vaade shook his head ruefully at the fate of the poor droid, and then focused his attention with curiosity upon the box of equipment it left behind. There were few beings on the street at this hour, and none of them showed any interest in the discarded supplies – even the rider who had killed the droid, and was now attending to his bike. The Twi’lek grinned brightly.

Waste not, want not. He casually walked out into the street, took the crate and then added it to everything else he had already packed away. A cursory scan with his Force-Sight revealed a few items that would prove useful around the hunting lodge. All in a day’s work...and that’s about everything. Almost time to head home again and see how Malius Ra’ssik is coping with Master Oden. I wonder if he’s even survived his first lesson. Truthfully he knew Master Kan would never tell him what Ra’ssik’s first lesson even was – much less if he had succeeded or failed it – and Ra’ssik himself would be forbidden to talk about it, even he wanted to. Crijo snorted under his breath and strapped the boxes down in the landspeeder, making sure they were all secure.

“No sign of ‘im yet, Dag” said a nearby voice in Basic. It came from the direction of the cantina and caught the Twi’lek’s attention immediately. Crijo quickly concentrated his Force-Sense on the area without turning his head. Finally. He had been waiting for this, for some time in fact. I can only pretend to load a speeder for so long, he mused. --Before people start to wonder what I’m up to – or if I’m just stupid and can’t load a speeder.

The swoop-rider who had run over the droid had removed his helmet, revealing a human face with long greasy hair. Another, older human had approached him from around the corner and was waving him over.

About time they got here. Crijo made yet another show of checking the straps around the supply-crates while continuing while he eavesdropped. Looks like the bartender I spoke to before was right after all, he thought. The swoop-gangs are all out and they’re looking for someone. At least these ones decided to come back for drinks. I was getting sick of waiting.

The older human – the one called Dag – motioned his greasy-haired friend to be silent as to two stood closer together. “Not here, Faruk. Round back.” The pair of them began walking away from Crijo toward a narrow alley between some smaller buildings, prompting the hooded Twi’lek to immediately leave the speeder behind and quietly pursue. He kept his pace and demeanour both calm and casual, using his senses to monitor the alertness of any passers-by, especially the two swoop-gang members. He would know the instant someone became suspicious of him. Ducking behind a waste-disposal unit further up the alley he let the Force heighten his hearing and continued to listen.

“…Gurooda won’t like that,” Dag, the older human, said.

Gurooda, Crijo repeated to himself in his mind. That’s the Hutt who lives somewhere near here. Bartender said he practically owns Mos Keto – well, manages it for Jabba.

The long-haired one – Faruk – gave a meaningful nod. “Bounty’s doubled. Two thousand. Not only that, the big slug has put other gangs on the job too. He must really want it back – whatever it is the lizard took.” The swoop-rider scratched the back of his neck and flicked whatever he found there away in annoyance. “You know what it was?”

Dag shook his head. “Nope – and you should know better than to ask. Jus’ get the scaly back – alive. Them’s our orders. That reward is ours, ‘n no one else’s, got it? I got the rest of the boys lookin’ over the dunes. If ‘e ain’t here – then he’s probably gone t’ Bestine. Nearest place t’ get offworld without a ship of ‘is own.”

“What about the other guy?” asked Faruk. “Anythin’ from him?”

Crijo frowned in curiosity as he continued listening. Other one? I heard they were looking for one person, not two.

Dag laughed. “Safe ‘n sound back in his cozy cell. Hutt’s goons nabbed him right ‘ere in town. He ain’t talkin’ – no surprise – so His Royal Ugliness still wants the lizard back too.”

That was the second time Crijo had heard a reference to a ‘lizard’ and he felt his heart sink. They can’t mean...

Faruk tucked his helmet under his arm and gave a nod. “Fine then. It’s a fool’s errand – if the scaly ain’t here or Bestine, he’s dead. If the Tuskens don’t got him, the infernal weather will. But for two grand... C’mon, I’m thirsty. Buy you a drink.” The two humans turned around and started walking back toward the cantina – and toward Crijo whose hiding place was right in their path.

Sweat dripped down the Twi’lek’s brow. They’re heading right for me. What do I do?… Through the Force he began searching around for anything that might be of use as each step of the two swoop-riders brought them closer to discovering him. Crijo’s Force-Sense poured like water over everything – living or non-living, organic or inorganic. Hope kindled within him as he detected a pile of crates at the opposite end of the alley and he reached out…and pushed.

The crates fell over with a loud clatter and instantly the advancing swoop-riders had their blasters drawn out in alarm. “What was that!?” cried Dag and he pointed at the crates with his weapon.

“Someone’s there,” Faruk replied and the pair of them began edging in the direction of the noise.

Crijo slowly rose to his feet and ducked back around the building and safely out of sight. That was close. He ran back to the landspeeder and leapt inside, losing no time to fire up the engines and steer the vehicle out into the street. As soon as he cleared the city limit he put as much distance between himself and the settlement as quickly as possible.

Master Kan was right, the youth thought to himself. He knew. They’re after Ra’ssik – they have to be. He steered the speeder out onto the dunes and in the direction of the hunting lodge, ignoring the heat that normally made him nervous outdoors; his attention was all but completely taken up with this new problem. The settlement was crawling with the Hutt’s people, all looking for an escaped ‘lizard-man’ who sounded a lot like the unpleasant Saurin waiting back at the Lodge, getting his introduction to the Oden Kan School of Force-Wielding. Crijo knew it could have been anyone the swoop-riders were talking about, but Master Oden had specifically told him to listen for trouble – and his instincts made up the rest. This wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t they have picked up a new student that didn’t have a death-mark on his head? He sighed.

I have such a bad feeling about this.



“...Gurooda-the-Hutt has put a bounty of two thousand credits on Ra’ssik’s head – for whatever it is he took – and the swoop-gangs want it.” Crijo shook his head after explaining everything he had heard in Mos Keto to Oden Kan, and started drumming his fingers against the kitchen table.

Malius Ra’ssik sat further back in the corner, listening in complete silence. There might have been a seething storm-cloud over his head, he was brooding so intently. The Twi’lek’s account was all too familiar to him and it was an effort not to play over recent events in his mind. He had heard about “Jedi senses”. I will not give away anything to you, Tail-head, he sneered mentally. He recognised the name Dag. It was short for Daggarit – one of Gurooda’s henchmen – but he said nothing of it. He said nothing just as Master Oden had ordered him to when they first met. He tried not to even think of it. Let the Twi’lek guess. If he can hear my thoughts – I am thinking of a number between one and ‘get lost’. He resisted the urge to chuckle.

Kan stroked his chin thoughtfully as his gaze shifted from Crijo to Malius and back again. “Are you so sure it is Malius Ra’ssik they are after?” he asked. He might have been asking about the weather, so casual was his tone of voice, and he gave no indication as to his opinion of Malius’ mood.

Crijo’s head jerked up with indignation. It was bad enough that the Saurin wanted to kill him in a variety of unpleasant and innovative ways – that, at least, was the impression he got from him – but to have his master blithely question him in front of the lizard was almost too much. “Are you going to tell me it isn’t?” he challenged Kan in a surly voice.

A speculative smirk touched Oden’s diabolical features and he chuckled lightly. “No,” he said, He turned his face fully toward Ra’ssik who openly met the Devaronian’s gaze. “Your instincts are correct. They are looking for Malius.”

“Two thousand credits is not very much,” hissed the Saurin in a dry tone of voice that belied his inner defiance. “I should have left more bodies.” Much more, he thought. I could have stayed and slaughtered them instead of fleeing with the Horned One. He could no longer maintain his gaze against Oden and finally turned away, opting instead to fix Crijo with an acid stare.

A shiver ran down Vaade’s back as he turned his Force-enhanced eyes toward Malius. The aura around his fellow Padawan was dark, menacing, and yet he thought he glimpsed something deeper, something carefully concealed, although he could not make out what it was. He finally gave up trying and spoke to both Ra’ssik and Master Kan. “Is this where you tell me what’s going on?”

Oden Kan chuckled a little more and shook his head at his Twi’lek student. If Malius were going to voice a reply he made no show of it. “No, that will not be necessary,” said the Jedi.

Vaade fumed. “Are you sure, Master?” He pointed a finger at Ra’ssik who gave him a malevolent hiss. “He’s stolen something from a powerful crimelord and now there are swoop-gangs and bounty hunters scouring the Dune Sea looking for him – and probably us, too.”

“Be still!” commanded Oden in a quietly threatening tone and Vaade obeyed by falling silent and bowing his head. “Ra’ssik’s past is his own for the time being,” Kan went on. His eyes played over the brooding Saurin for just a moment. “I saved him from Gurooda’s men in Mos Keto. The thing he ‘stole’, as you so dramatically put it, was his means of escape – which he no longer has. Gurooda has no idea where he is or even if he is on Tatooine still – and he knows nothing of us. You will not speak of this again, Crijo – am I clear?”

A grudging frown creased the Twi’lek’s brow until finally he nodded reluctantly. Outside the window, the two suns sank beneath the horizon, and the wind picked up, whistling as it blew past the hunting lodge. It was getting dark, and suddenly Crijo felt very tired.

In the corner, despite the dark and gloomy cloud that still hung around him, Malius Ra’ssik began to also feel the same weariness add weight to his scaly limbs. He found himself reluctant to continue fighting with the Twi’lek, and leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“Come,” Oden instructed and he rose to his feet. The two apprentices stood. “Night is falling and it is time to sleep.” He motioned toward the bunks in the room behind him and watched carefully as Malius and Crijo slowly trudged back toward their respective beds. Both were still tense with the events of the day, but nonetheless grateful for a chance to rest.

Kan continued speaking as his students disappeared into their rooms. “I will keep watch tonight; you will need all your strength – both of you – for tomorrow.”



The Jedi Master was true to his word. The following morning he roused his apprentices from bed very early, and continued on with their training. True to his usual methods, the Devaronian told his Padawans only what they needed to know in order to perform a task, or master a technique, and then left them to do it. Most often, both Twi'lek and Saurin studied away from each other - especially when it came to meditation and the study of "gentler" Force-abilities. It became customary for one apprentice to be left entirely by himself to develop a skill while the other received personal training from Master Oden. It was exceedingly rare for Crijo and Ra'ssik to study together as such lessons usually deteriorated into a crude competition - and Oden had made it very clear that such attitudes were not acceptable.

Both Crijo and Malius had the bruises to prove it.

Over the weeks both of them did try to concentrate more on knowledge and mastery of the Force rather than simply out-doing each other; nevertheless any training they did together remained strained at best. Crijo could easily sense the mounting tension between them – not that it really required any Force-powers to do – and it had already begun to interfere with his concentration. He was sure Master Oden sensed it too and wondered what he was planning to do about it.

Kan indeed had a plan and it involved leaving Crijo by himself out in the scorching-hot dunes for hours at a time, to meditate. Memories of the experience in Ryloth – the experience that blinded him – were kept very fresh in his mind from one day to the next, and he found himself struggling to cope. Distractions led to mistakes and mistakes led to wounded pride, and sometimes a wounded body – as was the case while practicing levitation. Crijo had been forced to learn the skill to escape the hot sand burning him through his clothes - but this was not without its own risk. Whenever his concentration broke he fell awkwardly to the ground – and sometimes objects he had been levitating as well fell on top of him.

Kan only shrugged and called it a “positive motivator” and left it at that.

Crijo should have known better than to expect sympathy.

I would almost take a day locked in a room with Malius over this, he often despaired, but he knew he did not mean it. When he was out on the Dunes his failures were his own, only to be shared with Master Oden. When he studied with Ra’ssik, the contentious Saurin enjoyed rubbing his nose in every mistake he made, especially when they sparred together. Even sitting in the kitchen listening to Master Kan recount tales of the Jedi in the Old Republic next to a restless Ra’ssik was challenging.

“We make a great team when we’re apart!” he joked with his master. Almost a month had transpired by now and the atmosphere had not improved.

Oden Kan was not amused. If anything he became just as unrelenting as the Tatooine weather and pushed Crijo even harder. “If you cannot deal with this, then what are you?” he asked him scathingly. “I expect more.”

It was after that, that Vaade realised he would need to make a much bigger effort at getting along when he and Ra’ssik were together. He just hoped that Master Oden was being as hard on the lizard-man—no, he needed to stop thinking of him as that—as on Ra’ssik as he was on him.

Something told him he didn’t need to worry.



Malius was pleased with himself. Within the first week he had well and truly exceeded Crijo’s athletic and acrobatic skills – and he revelled in it. When they were sent running through the dunes or over the mountains he always outpaced the Twi’lek – often stopping to see if the blind Tail-head would trip and fall over. And when they sparred together with weapons or hand-to-hand he always proved the more agile – and certainly the more aggressive.

A pity then that Master Oden kept him meditating most of the time.

“Remember the battle within,” the Jedi always said. “You are still more killer than Jedi.” He couldn’t really argue with Kan – arguing usually resulted in getting beaten – but it still frustrated him. Crijo had once tried to warn him about defying Oden’s will, but he had stubbornly refused to listen and paid for it with several bruises – some of which the Twi’lek witnessed, and that bothered him even more.

What troubled him the most was not Oden Kan’s brutal methods – he was used to brutality – nor even was it Crijo Vaade’s knowledge of the Force, which still exceeded his own. It was the sense of urgen¬cy within him - of tasks undone, and promises unfulfilled - that kept growing with each passing day. That more than anything else weighed most heavily on the Saurin’s mind.

I must go back. I promised I would. Malius Ra’ssik keeps his promises. I cannot leave him there. Not with them. They must pay for what they have done to us… He had never mentioned who "he" and "they" were - Oden had forbidden it. Even in private Ra'ssik was not allowed to speak of it but nothing could stop it from playing over in his mind. Such thoughts intruded upon his meditation, his exercise, his lightsaber training, even his sleep. He was determined not to let his feelings show, not to let anything slip – especially to Crijo.

Let him worry about the training, he told himself. The battle, the competition – the meditation. The weather. Anything but this. The Blind One sees too much for his own good. My feelings are my own. I will not share them. Not with him. But as his first month of Jedi-training passed, and his unease grew, he found it more and more difficult to hide his thoughts from either Oden or Crijo.

And that assumed he was hiding them at all.



Chapter 10



“The storm has passed,” Kan noted as he rose from his seat at the kitchen table to gaze out the window. He swivelled around, hands on his hips, and looked down at his two Padawans who were still sitting down. “Come with me.” The Devaronian’s tone was light but his expression suggested that he had better not be kept waiting.

With the eagerness of a pair of younglings leaving school Ra’ssik and Vaade jumped up from their chairs and hustled their way toward the door. The last sandstorm had easily proven to be one of the worst they had endured yet – lasting three full days. Malius knew Crijo found the constant storms hard enough, but he was going stir-crazy. One more day cooped up in a pokey little hovel with a blind cripple and his horned caretaker and he was sure he would go on a mad killing spree.

Fortunately for the other two it never came to that.

Moving a little more slowly than the Saurin, Vaade paused at the foot of the steps and frowned. Something about Master Kan told him they shouldn’t just run outside yet. He held up his hand. “Wait.”

His clawed hand poised just over the door-release button, Ra’ssik glared over his shoulder with a single, dark-orbed eye. “Why?” he asked archly. What is it now, Master’s-Pet?

Crijo ignored him and, opening himself to the Force, looked at Oden. “Master?”

Despite telling his students to go with him, Kan had yet to walk away from the window. He smirked in satisfaction at the Twi’lek.

Malius didn’t like that.

“You will need these,” Kan said and pointed a talon toward a crate upon which lay Crijo’s staff and a lightsaber – specifically a training saber, and the only one they had.

A dark blur crossed the distance between the door and the crate and picked up the training saber. Ra’ssik hadn’t needed any further prompting. Combat. Yes! It is about time. He clipped the weapon to his belt next to his vibroblades – he was never without them – and then dashed out the door.

Crijo sensed the predatory anticipation in Ra’ssik’s mind and suppressed a shudder. He quietly summoned his staff to his hand with the Force and turned toward Master Oden, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Kan stared back at him.

“Right. Of course. What was I thinking?” Crijo shook his head. Tucking his own weapon under his arm he followed the Saurin at a slower pace out into the midday heat of Tatooine.

Ra’ssik stood outside on the ledge overlooking the canyon – balancing on one hand with his extinguished lightsaber in the other and his legs in the air. He liked showing off. The moment he saw Crijo exit the lodge, followed by Kan, he flipped nimbly onto his feet and ignited his training saber. The yellow-white energy blade snapped into existence and lit up his dark-scaled face with an eerie flickering light. He dropped into a crouch, his wary eyes on the staff-wielding Twi’lek.

But the attack didn’t come from Crijo. Without warning, a small needle of glowing blue energy lanced out from Oden Kan at Ra’ssik, surprising him. With lightning reflexes, he brought up the lightsaber just in time and deflected the stun bolt into the dirt. Hissing in protest he leapt high into the air and somersaulted over three more blaster-bolts, and glared daggers at Jedi Master.

“What are you doing, Master?” he demanded as he landed on his feet. Another stun-bolt was fired his way and he twisted his body to avoid it. It had never been his strong-suit, deflection. He had always preferred to use his agility to avoid attacks. He felt the Force flow through his body adding speed and precision to his movements. There was no one faster than him. No one more agile. No one who could best him with just a—ow!!

Kan smiled. “Shooting you,” he murmured and moved quickly around the hunting lodge, firing off another a couple more shots at the Saurin. “Your natural skill with Force-Body is impressive, Malius Ra’ssik – but that is not all you have.” He fired twice more at the agile apprentice. “You have a lightsaber – use it.”

Malius succeeded in dodging the first two shots as Oden spoke, and angled his saber to deflect the third, but the fourth caught him high in the leg near his groin. It stung painfully and made his flesh tingle but did no further damage. He brandished the energy sword warily in front of him in a low guard, eyeing Oden and Crijo. That was too close.

Crijo stood several feet away from both Ra’ssik and Kan, his head slightly bowed and the simple quarterstaff in his hands held at the ready. He had to admit it was amusing each time he sensed Ra’ssik take a hit but he knew better than to smile. At any moment the blaster bolts would start flying at him, and he needed to be prepared.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The instant he sensed Kan turn and shoot at him, Crijo channelled the Force into his makeshift weapon, and spun it defensively into the path of two needles of blue energy coming toward him. The stun-bolts ricocheted harmlessly off the wood as if they had struck a lightsaber blade. Crijo grinned. This discipline was called Force-Weapon and with it, any mundane weapon like a staff or a vibroblade could be strengthened for a short time to do more damage and withstand the energy of blasters and lightsabers. Despite its effectiveness, the skill was not without weakness, as it required intense concentration. Crijo in particular found it difficult to use in conjunction with his Force-Sight, so he fought blindly and had to trust his feelings.

Another blue stun-bolt from the Jedi Master lanced across the open space toward Vaade. In the darkness that surrounded him, he felt its approach and deftly flicked the staff into its path. The bolt sped back along its original trajectory, forcing the Devaronian to duck, which amused Crijo, but something else made him frown.

“Why are you using the blaster?” he asked, preparing for another attack.

Kan fired off another shot, but this time at Ra’ssik, who dodged around it. “Malius damaged our only training remote. We make do.” As if to demonstrate, he fired again twice – first at Crijo who deflected it neatly, and then at Malius who sped around it, suffering only a glancing sting.

Crijo frowned. “But I fixed that remote.”

“Yes, you did.”

The Twi’lek’s forehead screwed up in a puzzled frown. “So why are you using a blaster?”

Oden fired off several shots in quick succession at both Padawans as he moved around the yard with speed that almost rivalled Ra’ssik’s. Vaade succeeded in blocking them all – much to his own delight – but Malius was not so fortunate. With his mind completely focused on the Jedi Master, he leapt up over one bolt and used his saber to block another, but he did not see a third ricochet off Crijo’s staff until it struck him squarely in the snout, setting his nerves on fire.

Malius clawed furiously at his nose and Crijo tried hard not to laugh.

Kan shrugged.

“I think I like this more.”

Peering over the hand protecting his snout, Ra’ssik gave a menacing snarl. It was bad enough, failing to deflect all the stun-bolts – especially with the buzzing in his head now - but he hated it when Crijo had to show off with his favoured combat style. Shien – the Perseverance Form, Oden called it. Even the name repulsed him. Use your enemy’s attacks against them, he mimicked Kan in his mind. Why wait for that when I can kill them before they attack at all? That was the way of Ataru – the Aggression Form. Ra’ssik’s Form. It didn’t matter that Crijo had had two years of training more than him – he was the warrior. He should act like it. Ataru favours the bold, he thought. He was tired of being the Jedi Master’s plaything. It was time to try a different approach.

Crijo’s lekku twitched and he picked up a subtle change in Malius’ attitude as the Saurin’s focus suddenly turned predacious. The distraction cost the Twi’lek a painful – and embarrassing – sting on the hand from another stun-bolt but he ignored it. Ra’ssik gathered his legs underneath him, reversed his grip on the lightsaber, and then launched himself directly at Master Kan. Crijo felt Oden’s momentary alarm as the Jedi Master slid to the side and Ra’ssik flew past him in a blur. The lightsaber slashed through the air once, followed by the clatter of metal striking the ground.

The air went silent. Crijo lowered his staff and opened his vision to the Force, half expecting to see Kan clutching a wound or lying on his back. Instead he found his master looking down at the shorter Saurin a few feet away, his hands on his hips and a smoking blaster at his feet. Malius crouched low to the ground, his aura boiling with defiance mingled with pride and his gaze split between his master and the Twi’lek. Crijo opened his mouth to speak but Kan waved him off with a curt motion of his hand.

“Why did you do that, Malius?” Oden asked in a slow, speculative tone. After waving the Twi’lek away he made no further move except to turn his head toward Ra’ssik and lift an eyebrow.

Malius opened his toothy maw in the Saurin version of a grin. A very smug grin. “I removed the threat, Master,” he rasped. “One cannot remain defensive forever.” Carefully he rose to his full height again and licked his lips as he tried to gauge Kan’s reaction. It was difficult, but then the Jedi Master was never easy to read, even for a Force-adept.

The horned head of the Devaronian turned to look at Crijo, whose mouth still hung open, and then back at Ra’ssik. “Very true,” he said in a soft voice and summoned the blaster back into his outstretched hand. Casually he checked the power-cell and stun-settings and then pointed it squarely at Ra’ssik’s chest.

“But that is not the lesson.” He fired.

With no time to think, Malius rocketed straight up, igniting his saber, and back-flipped away from Master Oden. He caught the stinging needle of energy on the tip of his blade and landed alertly on the roof of the lodge, spouting several curses in his native tongue. Two more lasers came his way and he narrowly blocked them before dropping to the surface of the roof. Ra’ssik brought his lightsaber into a horizontal guard over his face and the golden blade hummed inches away from his sneering expression. Devious, Master. But not devious enough.

When the next bout of laser-fire shifted toward Crijo, the Twi’lek was ready for it. The flurry of stun-bolts met with a whirlwind of Force-enhanced wood and sent them spraying in all directions. Some flew straight back at Oden Kan – who still managed to avoid being hit – or splashed against the building, the moisture vaporator and the landspeeder. As the Twi’lek continued to defend himself against the onslaught of laser-fire, Malius slowly crept over the roof and stood up for a better view.

So many of them, he acknowledged. Surely the cripple cannot keep this up.

Crijo felt that – the condescension and doubt. He set his jaw as Oden Kan dashed around him with Force-enhanced speed, firing relentlessly, and centred himself more fully in the Force. At the next barrage of stun-fire, the Twi’lek pirouetted on his foot, and simultaneously twirled the staff around him in a blinding display of Barrier of Blades, sending the majority of fire back at the Jedi Master, striking him twice.

Ra’ssik blinked. Impressive. Perhaps there is something to this Shien-style after—

A redirected laser-bolt stung him in the neck. Yeow!!

Then another struck him in the elbow, making his whole arm spasm.

Ra’ssik resisted the urge to duck down again and hide, and instead glared accusingly at Vaade who had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Stop it, Twi’lek, he warned mentally, his temper rising.

A third bolt caught him painfully on the tip of his tail.

In the next moment a dark, angry blur dashed from the rooftop and through the air to collide with the Twi’lek some feet away. Crijo parried the initial saber-thrust, and then both apprentices went down in the dirt. Ra’ssik attacked in a mad confusion of tooth, claw and saber, his dark eyes burning hot with rage.

This will teach you!

A stifled cry of pain escaped Vaade’s lips as he struggled to throw the Saurin off him and Ra’ssik smelled blood. His claws had torn through the front of Crijo’s robe. Despite all attempts to block the attacks, the Twi’lek was no match for his speed and ferocity in such close quarters. The staff was useless. Ra’ssik grinned as Vaade was forced to let go of it in order to keep fighting.

Oden Kan stood back a ways and merely watched his squabbling students in silence. He had his arms folded across his chest and the blaster loosely grasped in one hand, and a dispassionate expression on his face. He might have been watching a semi-distracting holodrama until he found something better to do.

“Malius!” Crijo exclaimed through clenched teeth. “What’re you—?!” but he didn’t get to finish the sentence. The edge of the training saber bit into his arm, singeing his clothes and burning his skin. Fear chilled him. A real lightsaber would have cut straight through.

I get it, he thought, shunting aside the pain. Don’t antagonise the homicidal lizard-warrior.

As Ra’ssik’s clawed hand rose again to strike, Vaade felt it coming and reacted the only way he could. He focused his concentration into a single discipline and thrust his hand forward into Malius’ chest.

The Saurin went flying.

It occurred to Ra’ssik somewhere in his mind as he sailed through the air that he should have seen that coming, but it was too late now. He tucked his knees in and used the momentum of Crijo’s Force-Push to double-somersault backwards and land in front of the speeder. As he slowly stood up, panting for breath, he flashed a mouthful of gleaming teeth at Vaade and brandished his lightsaber again.

Best that, Tail-brain.

The Twi’lek climbed to his feet. Blood stained the front of his robe from the shallow cuts made by Ra’ssik’s claws and several bruises marred the creamy-complexion of his face. He said nothing, but just stood there trying to catch his breath. Ra’ssik’s challenge resounded clearly in his mind and he lifted a hand to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Watch me.

Crijo opened his fingers and the quarterstaff leapt from the ground into his waiting hand. The thick sturdy bronzewood gave him a sense of grounding, and even though Oden Kan forbade him from using anything as an aid for his blindness, he still felt stronger – no, more connected – when he held it. Sliding one foot in front of the other, he started moving slowly forward. Ra’ssik smirked as he waited, and shifted his lightsaber into a vertical, two-handed grip at the right side of his body – the opening stance of Ataru. Crijo paused.

Master? Still keeping his senses trained on Ra’ssik in case he tried to attack, Vaade projected the question toward Oden Kan. Would Kan allow them to fight at all? Would he intervene? He always split them up in the past, but had not said or done anything this time. Oden barely moved to acknowledge Vaade’s query but the Twi’lek felt the touch of his mind all the same.

You started this.

Of course he did. And Kan wanted to see how he would finish it – if he could. Crijo scowled and had to put some effort into quelling his emotions. To do battle he needed to be calm. He needed to focus. Grasping the staff with his second hand he opened himself to the Force and let it flow like cool water through his limbs and into the humble weapon. It was a lightstaff now - an extension of his own power.

Ra’ssik’s translucent eyes blinked slowly as he watched Crijo flaunt his staff-skills by spinning the weapon over his head and around his body. Give the cripple a chance to be ready, he thought. I will be patient – for a change. Master Oden should be proud. The whirling weapon came to a halt, and Ra’ssik evaluated the battle-stance in which the Twi’lek chose to face him. Vaade stood firmly with his dominant right leg positioned behind his left – so he can step through for more powerful strikes, Malius realised – and the lightstaff, he held with two hands spaced apart near one end, in a horizontal guard. Malius sniffed the air.

He will have reach over me, and better defence… But I have speed and agility over him. A slow, wolfish smile spread over his face and he braced himself to attack. This will be interesting.

The attack came quicker than Crijo had anticipated, and even as he angled his staff to parry, he made a mental note to one day – if at all possible – not be surprised by Ra’ssik’s rapid fighting technique. The Saurin darted forward with three quick strides and a half step, opening with a Hawkbat’s Swoop – a lightning slash followed by an immediate retreat. As saber and staff connected, Vaade redirected the attack and followed through with a thrust – but Malius was already out of range. Three more similar, serpent-like attacks followed, each from a different direction, and each were met with a deft parry and riposte from Crijo. He was testing him.

Ra’ssik grinned. Kan watched impassively as the reptiloid apprentice then hurled himself at the blind Twi’lek in a dazzling display of acrobatics and saber-work that forced Crijo into swift action to defend himself. Ra’ssik engaged with a furor of short, quick attacks known as Saber Swarm at each of Crijo’s limbs, only to be met with Circle of Shelter – a defensive technique that kept the Twi’lek’s staff in constant motion around himself, forming a protective sphere. It was annoyingly effective. As soon as there was a break in Malius’ fierce assault, Crijo buffeted him back with several sharp jabs aimed at his arms and torso, and then followed up with a broad, powerful Sarlacc Sweep at the Saurin’s legs.

Malius bounded backward out of range and scowled. Getting inside the Twi’lek’s defence was hard, but once in... he could win. And he would win. With their master watching he had to win. A step forward and he vaulted over Crijo, striking multiple times with his lightsaber even as he twisted around in mid-air in Falling Leaf style. Vaade’s lightstaff whistled through the air in a forward circling attack – the Rising Whirlwind – matching his repeated assaults blow for blow, again forcing him out of the Twi’lek’s circle of defence.

Oden Kan tapped his chin with a finger, but still said nothing as his two Padawans sparred. Malius found the Jedi Master’s silence irksome and off-putting – the lack of praise surely meant disappointment – and so he pushed himself harder. His desire to win, to prove himself, spurred him on, adding speed as well as a faint tinge of desperation to his efforts.

Crijo found his master’s earlier words – You started this – repeating in the recesses of his mind as the fight progressed, followed by the echo of his own thoughts. I will finish it. I will finish it. As the Saurin tried again and again to hit him, he continued to redirect each attempt and follow through with an equally fast response – but Malius was too fast. Crijo found himself almost entirely on the defensive. There has to be another way, the Twi’lek thought. He could wear him out, but that might take too long. Every second that passed increased his chances, as much as Ra’ssik’s, of making a mistake. He could go completely on the offensive – but that would be foolish. In one-on-one combat the Ataru-practitioner had the advantage.

Ra’ssik knew it too.

Gripping his training saber in one hand Ra’ssik dived forward with Vornskr’s Ferocity, his speed so great he rolled in underneath Vaade’s sweeping response. At last! he exulted. He was inside the Twi’lek’s circle of defence. Crijo’s counterattack still forced him to keep rolling past and parry with his energy weapon, but as Ra’ssik came to his feet his free hand whipped out and he raked his sharp claws across the back of Crijo’s leg.

With a gasp of pain, Vaade realised too late he had fallen for the diversion and his knees buckled. He began to topple over backwards just as Malius turned around and set himself for an Unhindered Charge that would surely end the match with the Saurin as victor. No! Calm turned to chaos in Vaade’s mind and in that moment of weakness his temper flared. As Malius’ eager advance drew near to him, Crijo reached out with the Force and swatted at Ra’ssik with a blast of telekinesis.

There was pain. Lots of pain. With the counter-energy of Crijo’s Force-Push, Malius felt like he had just run into a solid wall, face-first. The shock jarred the lightsaber from his grasp and he rolled away in the sand groaning. He had no defence against telekinesis. No talent for it – and the Worm-head had to have known it. Even with his eyes shut against the pain he could feel Master Kan’s disapproval, his disappointment. Licking his lips, he tasted blood from his nose and mouth. I can still win. I am the better. I am the warrior. I am—

“Enough.” A blaster-shot pierced the air. It was Master Oden. The Devaronian walked forward between his two injured students and shook his head. Malius and Crijo slowly climbed to their feet – Malius gingerly touching his bleeding snout and Crijo feeling the back of his left leg. Shame emanated from each of them.

I failed to win.

I gave into anger.

“You have both disappointed me today,” Kan went on in a deathly quiet tone of voice. Condemnation, dark and foreboding resonated from him and each Padawan hung his head. “As you are you can never be Jedi.” He lifted the blaster again and adjusted the settings.

Ra’ssik finally lowered his hand from his bleeding face and stared Oden in the eye. “Are you going to shoot us again?” he asked, too exhausted to put any challenge into his voice.

Kan put down the gun. “No.”

Malius opened his mouth in confusion and he stole a glance at Crijo whose face shared the same expression.

“The power-cell is depleted,” Oden explained blithely.

“Oh,” both Padawans said at once. Is that a good thing? Vaade wondered.

Kan turned around. “There is another lesson for you to learn.” He put the gun back in its belt holster and began walking across to the other side of the yard. Stopping by the driver’s side of the landspeeder, he glared sternly at each of his two students, and then pointed a curved talon at the vehicle.

“Get in.”