Shattered Stars (TCW)

Bonus Chapter 3 -- Growing

Standard 7 - 15, Year 7941

“A brilliant and graceful weapon, a lightsaber is. A channel of the Force in you, your crystal will be. The luminous beings within, a crystal helps you to recognize. Use it for peace, you must.”

Taska stepped into the cavern, trying to keep a positive and open mind as Yoda once again explained their mission here on Ilum. She hated the cold. Really, she hated all extremes of temperature—when you perceived the Force as warmth, it was easy to feel overwhelmed. But the feeling in these icy tunnels was worse. This planet was lifeless, save her classmates and the crystals that called to them deep within. She keenly felt the cold beyond this main chamber, and knew soon she would have nothing but that flickering candle of her crystal to guide her.

“Profti?” She asked as the group began to split up. The Togruta turned his head, the bright green on his montrals dimmed by the cave's strange light. “Can we stay together? I feel too... Cold.”

“You'll be fine,” he offered a smile, his small fangs sticking out the corners of his mouth. “This is a journey we all have to take alone. But I know you can do it.” Profti was only a few months, nearly a year, older than her, but she still looked up to him as a wise older brother.

“But I don't know what I'm doing!” She protested, knowing he was right.

“That's the point,” he shrugged. “Maybe that's what this journey is supposed to teach you. Just go.”

She sighed heavily as he turned and ran down another tunnel, having already forgotten which ones the others had taken.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay, I can do this. I can do this.” She ran into her own tunnel, almost immediately regretting it as it became so steep she could only slide down.

The passageway she finally came to a stop in was small and cold, but at least it was as almost as well lit as the rest of the system. The signatures of the other Padawans were distant now.

Taska ran her fingertips over the cool ice of the walls, wondering where the glow came from. As she did, she noticed that there were several small rooms branching off of the main hall. She could feel her crystal—it was warmer than she expected. She raced to the other side of the tunnel, finding it glowing patiently in a crack in the wall.

“Found you,” she exclaimed quietly, pressing it into her palm.

A rumbling sound filled the air. Taska stuck her head into the passage, alarmed when she noticed it collapsing.

“Hello? Is anyone there? I need help! Help me!” She yelled as she ran, trying to speed past the collapse to the tunnel she had entered through.

The only thing to answer her cries was the sickening thump of ice blocking her way.

She kept herself from hyperventilating as she pushed against the shards of ice that now trapped her, knowing all too well what was happening—no one was coming to help her.

“You have to stay calm,” she told herself in her small, high voice. “Breathe in, breathe out.”

It may not seem like much, but it could be enough to save your life, she remembered Master Fisto telling her class.

“Okay,” she whispered. She settled onto her knees. “No one is coming. You have to trust yourself.”

She sat there for what felt like hours, not daring to open her eyes until she was convinced that when she did, the ice wouldn’t be in her way anymore. When she could feel herself wrapped in the familiar warmth of the Force, she risked a look.

A smile broke across her face. “I did it!” she exclaimed, racing through the tunnel, ready to climb out.

When they regrouped in the main room of the temple, Profti was waiting for her, soaking wet and smiling.

“You must be freezing!” She worried over him as he shivered.

“I'll be fine,” he waved a hand at her. “I got my crystal!” he opened his palm to show a small, cone-shaped gem.

“I did too,” she smiled, lowering her voice as she saw Yoda looking at the two of them. “Oh, I can't wait to get back to the ship.”

“Me neither,” Profti agreed, giving a mighty shiver.

A droid was waiting for them when they returned to the cruiser. He introduced himself as Huyang, and guided them in choosing the right materials for their lightsabers.

“Now, what do you feel is the right material for you, youngling?” The droid said, startling her out of her dreamlike observation of the others.

“Um…” she closed her eyes quickly, feeling the way the Force alighted on each of the materials around her. “Quadanium?” She muttered.

“What?” The droid looked at her expectantly, and she was almost certain he could hear her just fine the first time.

“Quadanium steel,” she said more loudly. “And… I think the sapphire, too.”

“An inlay of oshiran sapphire will add aesthetic value, but it will also add a good grip texture,” Huyang complimented. “Now, as far as design goes…”

They ended up choosing a sleek long-handled design, one that had a strong counterbalance on the far part of the hilt. Her small hand just barely fit around the hilt of her new lightsaber, and she briefly imagined what it would be like when she grew into it.

“As you get older, you will need to redesign your saber,” Huyang said to the group of younglings once they had finished construction, displaying a small projection of a hilt that expanded with new pieces. “It will grow with you.”

Taska shot a satisfied smile to Profti, who proudly brandished his new white-handled weapon. Now that she had a lightsaber, she was one step closer to being the only thing she had ever wanted to be—a Jedi knight.

* * *

Standard 6 - 1, Year 7953

By the time Ace was eight—really sixteen—he was more than familiar with how a blaster worked. He cleaned his on a weekly basis, practiced with the DC-15 daily, and still kept his skills sharp with the DC-17s and even the Firepuncher.

He didn't think they were anything elegant, certainly not beautiful, but there wasn't much of that in anything he did. At least he could be proud of his grace and skill in using them.

“Very good, 3135,” the brainy-headed trainer said as he fired round after round at the moving target in front of him. A Kaminoan doctor was never far behind, never saying anything, but always watching.

“Thank you, sir,” Ace responded tonelessly, his mind elsewhere.
The first of his squad's practice tests was coming up soon. He knew he was the one chosen from the five of them to lead the group, and the others would get practice another time leading other groups. It made sense—they were all the best at what they did, their minds and eyes and bodies just a bit sharper, a bit more tuned in than their brothers. And out of all of them, Ace was the one that didn't stop until he was the best, the one that had blood in the creases of his hands from tuning and firing and switching canisters and firing again.

He was the one that practiced fighting until there were some brothers that refused to spar with him anymore, the only clone that he knew that could jump or kick or flip as high as he did.

He was the one that used to read old strategy books until someone told him that too much reading would strain his eyes and he worried he wouldn't be able to be as accurate as he always was.

He was beginning to worry that his only big weakness would be his worry. All his other brothers seemed to be doing just as well as him, but they laughed and played and punched each other. Would he be a good leader if he didn't do the same?

I just need to try harder.

He kept firing.