Star Wars: The Old Republic: The Rogue Jedi

Before the return of the Sith Empire, decades before the rise of Avaryss, the Jedi Order was uncontested. Under the leadership of the Senate, the Republic met each days bravely, enjoying a time of plenty and expansion, all watched over by the fair and enlightened hand of the Jedi Council. For the core worlds it was a time of great advancement and power.

In the outer rim, the Republic sought to share their good fortune, ships carrying Jedi and their students went out among the stars in an attempt to bring the same sense of prosperity and security to those outside the core.

It is on one of those ships that our story begins. An unexplained accident changes the destiny of one gifted student of the Force, and puts him on a path none of his fellows in the order would consider normal.

It was here that the Rogue Jedi's tale begins.

Chapter 1: An Ending

There is no death, there is the Force.

The boy had been taught to believe those words. His earlies memories were of hearing the Jedi Code, of playing in the temple with his brother and their fellows. Every game, every challenge carefully designed to prepare them for adulthood, to not only give themselves to the Force, but to be willing to let go and become one with it when the time came.

It should have been easy; it should not have left him daunted. All life ended, that was the way of things, the way of the Force.

Yet, in that moment, the boy was not quite ready to surrender himself to that fate. He refused to give up, there had to be way of out this, a way to survive.

He believed in the code. He believed that there was no death, only the Force, but that did not mean that he would just simply lay back and accept his fate. He had only seen nine years.

He refused to accept that that would be the full total of his life.

He once again opened his eyes and searched his surroundings. The wailing emergency sirens had finally stopped. The crimson glow of emergency lighting still burned, but he knew that that would not last for long. The section of the ship where he was trapped was likely on emergency battery power now, and how long that would last he could not say. The bulk head doors both before and behind him had slid shut, saving him from explosive decompression, but those doors closing had only delayed the inevitable.

When the power finally gave out, so to would the lights and gravity, the air trapped in here would last for a while, but it would not sustain him indefinitely.

All around him the ship was breaking up, every once and a while the deck would shudder beneath his feet.

How long would it be until the ship's integrity finally failed, how long would it be until some power conduit overloaded and blasted him to atoms?

Fear again tried to rise in his chest. Part of him wanted to cry, to wail for the masters, to beg someone to save him.

It took everything he knew just to deny that desire. He may have been a child, but he was also to be a Jedi.

A Jedi did not panic.

Don't think about it, the boy thought to himself, you're not dead yet, as long as you draw breath, there is a hope, a chance to live.

He did not intend to waste that chance.

To the unenlightened, it would seem that he was doing nothing. He knelt before the bulkhead with his eyes closed. He willed himself to remain calm, to forget about the fear he was feeling, and pain in his right arm. It had been burned when the bulk head that had stopped him from reaching the escape pod exploded. He did not think it broken, but the pain was a distraction.

Move past it, the voice of his masters rang in his ears; the pain you are feeling is of the physical world. You are not just flesh; you are a luminous being, bound by the Force. You must use the Force.

The boy continued to reach out, to focus all his will.

He was trying to save himself.

He could do nothing to restore the doomed ship, but he was not without options. He was not entirely sure how long he had laid unconscious on the deck, but one thing was certain, his brother was still out there somewhere, he could feel it.

Now…he simply had to reach out with the Force, and contact him.

It should have been easy; the bond between identical twins was strong.

Yet, for some reason…the force remained silent.

The boy frowned.

His brother was not reaching out.

His call for help was going unanswered.

He was not sure what to make of that. Both of them had been given to the Jedi Order as infants. Both had trained for years to become Jedi. A few short years ago, his brother would have heard his call from anywhere, but now…for some reason, all was silent.

Brother, he whispered into the sea of light that was the Force.

Hear me…brother.

Brother?

Again he felt nothing, only the barest acknowledgement that his brother still lived. He still lived, but was far away.

Again despair threatened to rise up and consume him.

Did his twin believe him dead? Had he been hurt during the evacuation? Was he unconscious? Was that why he did not respond to his twin's call?

Was that why he could not hear his brother's cry for help?

The boy remembered running, alarms blaring overhead as the ship was beginning to break up. Masters Kla and Bellagus guiding them to the escape pods, sealing the bulk heads behind them.

It was okay Master Kla had promised them, there was plenty of time to make it to the escape pods.

There had been plenty of time.

The boy had stopped to help one of his fellows, he had gotten separated from his brother, when the ship lurched again he had fallen, by the time he had regained his feet, the others had been aboard the escape pod.

He had seen his brother reaching out, calling his name. He had been shouting for him to hurry.

The boy had risen; he had run towards the pod. Master Kla and his brother had both been calling to him. He was almost there. He was almost.

He felt a tremor in the Force.

The deck plate before him flew up, striking him hard.

He had been flung back when another explosion shook the dying ship.

The last thing the boy remembered was his brother calling out, shouting his name.

After that…all there had been was darkness.

He had awoken alone, the section of the ship he was in sealed off, but losing power.

He had been alone.

He was all alone.

Despite his training, despite years of being taught to control his emotions, the young boy sniffled.

There was no death, there was the Force, he knew that…but…

But…

He did not want to die.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

He was to have been a Jedi, a Jedi.

How could the Force do this to him?

He was supposed to have completed this trip, helped to bring the light of the Force to the worlds along this tour. There were worlds on the rim that could benefit from being brought into the Republic. They were to have been their ambassadors, bringing not only prosperity but order and justice as well.

They were supposed to have shone the light of the Force on those worlds.

They were to have been heroes.

He was supposed to have returned to the Jedi temple. Master Venari of the Jedi Council had approached him, talked to him about becoming his Padawan learner next year.

His life had been all planned out. He would have been on the Jedi Council by the time he was thirty, now…now…

…now…it was all gone.

What had happened?

Where had it all gone wrong?!

There was another loud rumble beneath his feet. He pressed his good hand to the deck plate.

It was warmer, not hot yet, but…

The boy frowned.

That was not a good sign.

The boy tried to remain calm, screaming and panicking would yield nothing except to help exhaust what air remained, which was, he feared, already starting to become stale.

He tried to remember everything he had learned at the temple. He tried to draw on the Force for strength.

There were some masters he knew who could slow their hearts down to a beat every few minutes. He wished that he could do that, it would preserve his air; it might also allow him to go deeper into the Force, aid him in contacting his brother, or anyone.

It was in that moment that he felt frustration, anger, and with it, something else, something cold and sure footed.

It seemed to peer right into his soul.

"You are fooling yourself, no one is coming. You have to save yourself. Give into fear, turn it into anger, into power, open up, and you can be saved."

The boy shuddered.

The masters talked about that, the dark side, powers that were quicker than the ones the order offered.

If he gave into those powers, would he have the strength to save himself?

The thought made his mouth go dry.

He imagined drawing on the Force, pulling the wreckage he was trapped in out into the space lanes, being able to reach out across half the galaxy and summon help.

And if help did not come, if there were those that decided not to come, the darkness offered the power to punish them, to grind them into dust for their cowardice, to…to…

The boy blinked.

No.

Never.

The cost was too high.

He took a shuddering breath.

The darkness offered damnation not salvation.

He would not give into its call.

Never.

The boy sat back down on the deck, it continued to grow warmer, his wounded arm continued to throb, he ignored it.

He took a deep breath and tried to find his center again, to meditate and slip into the Force, to reach out and try to call for help.

"I am here," he murmured, "I'm still alive. Help me. Help.

The boy breathed deeply.

I am here.

Help.

IOI

He was not sure how much time passed. One tended to get lost when one drew deeply on the Force, one tended to lose track of time.

The broken ship shuddered again, only this time, the view port behind him filled with light. The section in which the boy was trapped shuddered and moved forward. He rose from his meditation and ran to the viewport.

The large boxy freighter filled the viewport; its running lights lit the confines of the boy's prison.

He giggled. He…he…

Yes.

Yes!

I'm saved!

The ship was clearly not a Republic craft, its brown armor plates scarred and melted in several places. Off to the left and right two smaller craft with grasping arms were picking through the debris cloud left by the destruction of the Jedi ship.

Salvagers, the boy realized, even better.

He smiled.

Salvagers would have to go to a civilized world to sell their cargo. It would be no problem at all to find transport there; they might even have a functioning hyper-comm on board.

He could contact the temple; let them know he had survived.

He could be back home in days. DAYS!

He tried to keep from laughing from jumping with joy.

Thank the Force, he thought.

I'm saved.

The deck shuddered beneath him as the freighter's tractor finally drew what was left of his prison to where it could be reached by the freighter's crew. The boy stepped away from the view port, reaching down to smooth out his robes, and make himself look presentable.

He caught his reflection in the deck plate.

He sighed.

It was not much better than it usually was.

The boy was small for his age, dark of hair and grey of eye. His features were bland and would likely never be considered memorable or handsome. The brown tunic and trousers he wore were stained with both grease and blood.

He idly pulled against the Padawan braid in his hair.

I look like a refugee, he thought, or someone who has just survived an accident, which is unsurprising.

He just had survived and accident, but the important thing was that he had.

He was still alive.

There were a loud bang at the blast door behind him, he might have been wrong, but thought he heard voices on the other side, that and the sound of heavy tools being brought to bear.

The boy took a deep breath and tried to stand patiently, to await his rescuers arrival. It would not do to simply run into their arms sobbing like an infant.

He was still a Jedi Student.

He would act as such.

He…

There was another loud bang.

The blast door popped loudly and retracted, light and steam rolled into the section that held the boy. He heard rough voices, and the sound of heavy boots.

The boy stepped forward.

"Greetings," he called out, "I'm…"

He did not get the chance to finish.

A heavy gauntleted wrist struck him across the jaw, stars filled his eyes as he was knocked back, he came down hard on the deck, his jaw clicked from the impact.

The boy shook his head, trying to clear it.

What the...?

Two powerful hands, seized him lifted him up by the front of his tunic.

The boy's eyes widened as he looked into his "rescuer's" face.

Oh no.

It was one of the largest men he had ever seen, a giant, perhaps almost seven feet tall, and wrapped in armor plate, a dome like helmet covering the man's head. At first, the boy thought it might be a droid, but then he got a better look at the helmet, and the T-shaped visor that hid the creature's features.

The boy's eyes widened.

Mandalorians, he thought.

Killers.

Butchers.

It had been almost three hundred years since the last Mandalorian War had ended. The clans had been defeated by the Jedi, but never fully broken. They remained a source of trouble for the Republic, them and their so-called, warrior code.

The Mandalorians worshipped strength, and preyed on the weak and helpless. They were monsters, no better than the now extinct Sith.

They were animals.

A dark chuckle escaped from beneath the helmet.

"Looks like we got a live one here, boys," the giant said,

He began to tighten his grip on the boy's throat; it was like an iron vice, squeezing the life out of him.

As dark spots danced before his eyes he heard the brute laugh.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it."

He beat feebly at the man's powerful arms; he tried to call on the Force to no avail. The darkness reached out for him, pulling him under he...

"Turn him loose."

"Nuna. I…"

"Turn him loose, now!"

The pressure came away from his throat. He sank to the deck like a stone.

The boy lay coughing on the deck. He sucked in air, both the stale air from his prison, and the new air coming through the ship's open air lock.

The boy blinked and look around.

The Mandalorian who had been choking him was glaring down at him; at least he thought he was; it was kind of hard to see with that helmet…

…Him and one other.

She was almost a head shorter than the one that attacked him, smaller and without a helmet, but that did not make her any less implacable as the one who had struck him. The woman's red hair was streaked with grey, her left cheek marred by the scar of a blade cut. Her armor was painted a dull yellow, and pitted and scarred. She wore a blaster pistol on each hip, and what looked like a rocket pack on her back.

"What is this," she said, "A boy?"

The giant snarled.

"Look at his robes, Nuna, look at his hair, that braid."

The large man snorted.

"It is a Jedi pup. Let us kill it and be done with it."

The woman turned her head, her eyes as cold and dark as Mandalorian iron.

"Do you fear this one, Targo?" she asked, "This boy, who is not even armed?"

"He is a Jedi pup," Targo hissed, "Pups grow up to be Jedi dogs! Better that we put this one out of our misery."

The woman, Nuna, spat.

Where is the rest of your pack, pup?" she demanded, "Where there is one Jedi there is usually others?"

The boy coughed, he…he was not sure what to say.

Mandalorians were not allies of the Jedi, but at the same time, if he said nothing, did nothing.

The woman might decide to let the giant have his way.

The boy did not want that.

"Alone," he said in a small voice, "They left me."

The female Mandalorian nodded.

"Abandoned," she said, "Thought as much."

She turned to the giant.

"Just as you were when I found you, Targo. Do you remember that?"

The giant snarled and retreated.

"Don't say that I did not warn you, captain," he spat, "This will not end well."

"I'll take my chances," the woman said.

She looked down upon the boy.

"I'm known as Mother Nuna," she informed him, "You just met Targo. We are to salvage this wreck."

She gave him a cold smile.

"Now what should I do with you?"

The boy was not sure what to say.

Mandalorians were no friends of the Jedi, but perhaps she could be convinced..."

It was worth a try.

"You could let me go," he said, "Drop me off at the first planet you came to."

The older woman laughed.

"I could also leave you here," she said, "That would be one way of letting you go, wouldn't it? We could just take what we wanted and leave it to space to see to you."

The boy did not answer.

That would not be his first choice of ways that the woman could let him go.

She smiled slightly.

"Relax, boy," I do not make it a habit of abandoning children, if I did, half of my crew would not be with me."

It was then that he noticed the others who had come in with Mother Nuna, her crew.

The boy pursed his lips.

Most did not look over the age of twenty one. A collection of males and females, humans and aliens, some wore armor like Targo and Mother Nuna, but most were dressed simply, overalls, or shirts with trousers.

Foundlings, he wondered.

Or were they slaves?

Mother Nuna chuckled.

"Your order does not pay bounties for lost pups. If I was to take you back they would likely arrest me for some piddlely thing or another. Yet, you do need transport, yes, both off this wreck and to some place safe, some place with water and food?"

The boy nodded what else could he do?

He had no desire to stay here, and it would be useless to try and fight the woman or her crew, and besides.

He did not feel the same darkness that he felt from Targo. Mother Nuna was hard, but she was not dark.

As far as rescuers go, he could do worse.

"I'm no slaver, boy," she said, "But nor am I a charity worker. You want food, lodging, transport; you will have to earn it like everyone else here. Everyone does their part, no slacking; I have no need for more cargo at the moment. You wanna eat you do your part. Do that…and you just might make it through this."

The boy was not sure what to make of this.

These people…he was not sure really what they were. Salvagers? Pirates?

He could not be a pirate! He was to be a Jedi! He was to be on the council one day!

How could a Jedi help people like this!

Part of him wanted to say no, to take his chances in the void, with the Force as his ally, but in the end, his desire to live would not let him.

He found himself nodding.

Mother Nuna smiled.

"Good on you, boy," she said, "But first."

She pulled a blade from her belt; he tensed for a moment not sure what she was going to do.

She reached out and cut the braid from his hair, letting it drift down to the deck.

"We can't have you walking around with that thing," she informed him, "Targo is going to be annoyed enough by your presence. No need to antagonize him further."

He nodded.

It made sense but.

He shivered.

What am I doing?

What am I going to do?

Earn your keep, his conscience said, Work hard and stay alive until you can get back to the order. You did not wish to die, and the Force answered your prayer.

Don't throw away that chance now.

He managed a weak smile,

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

She touched his wounded arm, despite his desire to do otherwise, he squeaked.

It throbbed painfully.

"First we get you to the infirmary; Ives will get you fixed up. Coop?! Coop! Where are you boy?!

Another boy about his age hurried into the corridor, he had shoulder length black hair, blue eyes and a merry smile.

"Yeah, Mom," he said, "You need something?"

"I called you didn't I," Mother Nuna said, though there were little heat in her voice.

She smiled at the newcomer.

"Take this one to Ives," she said, "When he has been checked out, show him around, make sure that he doesn't touch anything he is not supposed to touch. He will be working with you from now on. Make sure he learns the ropes."

The boy nodded.

"Sure thing, Mom, whatever you say," he said,

She nodded and turned back to her newest crew member.

"Off with you now lad, I have work to do."

"Yes, ma'am," the boy said respectfully.

Mother Nuna gestured for him to leave as another crew member drew her attention.

The boy followed the one she had called Coop, he led him into the hold of the salvager's freighter. He glanced up and saw the giant, Targo, glaring at him.

The boy looked away quickly.

"Don't worry about Targo," Coop said, "He would never go against Mom's orders; he is not that stupid."

The boy tried not to laugh at that.

Targo likely could have broken Coop in half.

It was hard to believe that he would risk calling the big Mandalorean stupid.

The two boys walked together. They passed other crew members who did not give them a second look.

Apparently, the boy realized, I'm not the only stray that mother Nuna has picked up.

Coop offered him his hand.

"I'm Gabe; by the way," he said, "Gabe Cooper, Mom, and my friends, call me Coop, what is your name?"

The boy pursed his lips, he did not want to be friendly with these people, if he needed to escape he might need to…

That is for later, he thought, for now, it is important that they come to trust you.

He took the other boy's hand.

"Pleased to meet you Coop, I'm Jas…Jas Dar Bynn."

Coop's eyes brightened.

"Welcome aboard, Jas, hope you survive the experience."

Despite the words, Jas felt only amusement from the other boy.

Perhaps this would not be as bad as he feared.

"Me too," he said.

If a boy like Coop could survive this, than so could he.

He was going to be a Jedi after all.

He could do this.

Yes.

Jas Dar Bynn smiled.

He could do this.