Star Wars ; Silver Shadows

Corellia

Grass swayed softly in the wind.  Eri loved the way grass swayed.  Especially here.  The grass was so tall and lush, the perfect balance between fertile green and dry pale coloration.

Though the grasses swayed in a serene dance, and were beaming with prime color, their hue was stained red with the blood and tears of an apprentice.  Rejik Haaruk loomed over the small, squirmy boy dressed in black robes and carrying a saber, set to training mode.  His lightsaber could do no harm.  Haaruk had, unbeknownst to Eri, set his saber to full power. 

It was only a glancing blow.  The wound was instantly self-cauterized by the heat of the energy sword, but that simply made the pain worse. 

"You call yourself a tactical genius, Eri Grail," Rejik said in a deep, mature voice, "but you are a miserable scum.  You're no better than the Jedi.  You're worthless.  You're weak.  If you are taken to the floor by a scratch, you will never make it to a real battlefield.  Eri Grail, you are a failure."

Haaruk was only three years older than Eri, but he was much taller and more mature.  It was in his species: Nautolans grow fast.  He was already the equivalent of a thrity-year-old human at just eighteen.  His neck tendrils quivered as he bent down and held a hand to help his fallen friend from the dirt. 

"Eri," He said in a lowered tone, "I know I'm being hard on you, but you have to master this form.  Boss'll have us both in Trooper gear if we don't hurry it up and make some progress in the next four weeks.  You don't wanna be a walking target, do ya?"

Eri grimaced.  "I'd rather be a walking target than a punching bag," he muttered, "That shit packs a punch!"

"Damn right it does!" Rejik laughed loudly.  "What an honor it is to wield this power.  Too bad you can't get past training mode."  He whirled and ignited his saber.  "Again."

"You're insane," Eri took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  His hips fell into a lowered form and his shoulders relaxed.  He held his blade aloft above his head, in front of his forehead and parallel to the ground.  Rejik lunged at him, and Eri was meant to sweep the incoming blade away and return with a powerful Force push.  However, Rejik's blade swerved, and Eri noticed before Rejik.  Eri swung his body away with a counter-directed Force shove that flattened the grasses he'd been admiring from his torment position on the ground.

"Eri, what the hell!" Rejik barked.  "You coulda killed me!"

"We aren't meant to be afraid of death," Eri replied, suddenly emotionless and dry.  "I do not feel so well," he said in an overly-emphasized manner.  "I am returning to my bunk room now.  Good day."

Rejik looked on, puzzled at how peculiar Eri's sentence structure had just seemed.  He's never formal with anybody... Except Boss, but everybody's formal with Boss.

- ~ -

Alone in his bunk room, Eri sat cross-legged on the bottom of the two-layered bed in his room.  He'd made the purchase as a way to avoid awkward conversations when friends came to visit.  He lived alone, but the bunk bed made it seem like a shared room.  If any questions were ever raised, Eri would shoot back a fast "He's out on the Kessel Run," or "He's on Ceratus V with his family," and it would never be mentioned again. 

The illusion, although clever, was a reminder of how low his life was.  He had friends; Rejik Haaruk was a friend, and he'd met a pair of Rodian boys at a junkyard while scavenging for parts to make a new pod.

Eri loved to build.  His specialty seemed to be in making racing cars.  Small machines designed to carry a light passenger over a small distance at a decent speed.  He never entered them competitively, but it was something to do in his free time.  It also provided a channel into the Force for him.  He used delicate motions to lift objects through the air, and a quick pulsation of lightning to solder parts together.  He couldn't muster much more lightning than the amount it takes to seal metal together, though.