Soldiers of the Stars

Chapter 37: Day of the Black Sun

SOLARA PROVIDENCE, BEXAS

BRYKA ACRUX

     "If you find your mind wandering, reposition yourself and go back to the breathing basics," I instructed, my eyes closed and my posture tall, allowing waves of the Force to flow through me. Gungi's energy lulled throughout Iana's dew-covered forest floor. His deep, even breaths turned into loud snores that even the melodious chirping of morning birds couldn't cover. "Padawan?" I queried.

     "Whhhaagggh," he replied with a yawn, his eyes still groggy. I peered over at him. He tucked his knees in and rested his arms and head on them.

     "I wasn't much for morning meditations either when I was a beginner Padawan." 

     In fact, I neglected meditating until I came to the 239th. Teaching Gunner to meditate broke me of my habit of meditating while lying down. Master Shaula never chastised me for it because he was the one who taught me how to meditate that way. It wasn't until training Gunner, who would end up falling asleep that I realized Master Shaula more than likely did the same and just wanted an excuse to nap.

     "Meditating outside the Temple is different, huh?"

     Gungi nodded.

     At the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Jedi were given a variety of places to meditate—the Room of a Thousand Fountains being a personal favorite. But the rest of the galaxy? The Temple's safety couldn't even reach Coruscant's lower levels, a place teeming with crime and danger. And the next star system over? Not a chance.

     Despite Bexas' temperate climate, I sensed a cold emptiness creeping over the people and the land since Lambeaux's withdrawal. I found no rest last night, and by the looks of it, neither did Gungi. Perhaps my men could have some time off now that Bexas was finally declared a humanitarian crisis and now that the Order was sending more Jedi reinforcements. Topknot and Squints could complete the renovations on Gungi's quarters, and my Padawan could get a good night's rest.

     A low growl drew my attention back to Gungi. He sheepishly covered his stomach. "Here." I reached back for my gray rucksack and dug around till I pulled out a slim, sealed stick of dried meat and tossed it to him.

     The loud roar of engines shot overhead, sending the trees into a fit. We craned our heads up at the incoming T-6 shuttle. Gungi, with a mouthful, looked at me and smiled.

     I pulled myself to my feet. "Best not to keep the others waiting."

✭✭✭✭✭

     A sea of people kept us from entering from the town's main road. We managed to squeeze into the narrow space between clay huts on the far side of Iana. From the chatter I overheard from the villagers earlier, today was what they referred to as the Day of the Black Sun, a celebration held during solar eclipses. The Bexans believed these rare occurrences were blessings from their sun goddess, Solara. The clamoring and cheering from beyond the alleyway grew as we neared.

     I bumped into Gungi. Before I could ask what the hold-up was, a cold chill shot down my spine. He turned, meeting me with wide, golden-brown eyes.

     "I sense it, too."

     The cheering turned to wails.

     This was no celebration.

     Iana's village square looked like a hospital's supply closet. A mountain of GAR medical relief crates, still closed, piled up behind a small abandoned desk. Distressed and hungered faces waited in front of the empty desk, the line stretching down a narrow street all the way to the end of the village. Children cried and screamed, the elderly wept, and the others, coated in blood, sweat, and dirt, gazed miles beyond the horizon. Gungi and I did our best to dodge the crowd to make it to the end of the village to greet the other Jedi. A sickness rose to my chest, and each step grew heavier and heavier.