Star Wars: Saviors of the Broken

Chapter III

"A true Jedi must remain balanced. We must know when to attack and when to defend, when to fight and when to lie low, when to rely on others and when to rescue ourselves" - Kao Anugh, from Collected Wisdom of the Jedi Masters

Patrick looked out the window of the escape pod, watching a cargo ship fly by. It was the twenty-sixth ship that had passed them just in the last three hours - he'd been keeping count. There was nothing better to do, after all. It was either that or face everything that had happened in the last week: the death of his master, the massacre of the Younglings, the fact that he and Pete Wentz were the only Jedi left alive.

Patrick had thought that he'd like spending more time with Pete, but it hadn't worked out that way. They had been stuck together for over a week now, and at every possible opportunity, Pete cracked jokes, did lightsaber tricks, and complained about everything. Instead of doing anything useful, Pete spent his time finding new ways to get on Patrick's nerves. He was clever, friendly, and hopelessly beautiful, but he was also annoying as hell, and Patrick found that he spent most of his days staring out the window, hoping that he could get off of Coruscant before Pete drove him insane.

There were bigger problems, of course. Pete and Patrick were getting radio transmissions from Coruscant, and what they heard worried them. Palpatine had turned the entire galaxy against the Jedi, and with each passing day, the likelihood that they would find someone to rescue them dwindled. Sometimes, Patrick wished that he had left the Ancient Texts Library that day, that he had done his duty as a Jedi and protected the defenseless Younglings. He wished that he'd been brave enough to fight, brave enough to die alongside his fellow Jedi, but he'd been a coward, and now, he was stuck in limbo, mourning his master and waiting for someone else to save him. Sometimes, he wanted to disappear completely.

He glanced back at Pete, who was quietly writing in a notebook, lost in thought. Patrick leaned back and savored the moment - he rarely got any peace on board the escape pod. He studied the thoughtful expression on Pete's face and wondered what could be going through his head. He listened to the sound of Pete's breathing, his pen hitting the page, the rush of another ship hurtling by.

All of a sudden, Pete looked up from his notebook. "What's up, Patrick?" he asked.

"Nothing," Patrick said. "What were you writing about?"

"It's just some poetry."

"That's cool. Can I read it?"

"No," Pete said. "It's kind of personal."

"Oh, okay," Patrick said.

"Hey, I came up with a really good joke," Pete said. "Do you want to hear it?" Patrick didn't respond, so Pete said, "Did you hear about the Gungan who became a cab driver?"

"His name is Car Car Binks," Patrick said. "You told me that one yesterday, and saying it again won't make it any funnier."

Pete frowned, and Patrick headed back to the window. When he looked back, Pete was screwing a small, round knob off of the control panel. "Pete!" he shouted. "What are you doing?!"

"If I can get this thing loose, I bet we could play soccer with it," he said.

"You can't just take pieces off of the control panel!" Patrick exclaimed. "What if we need it later? What if the whole ship breaks because of you?"

"Relax," Pete said. "It's not like we're going anywhere."

Patrick scowled. "Put that back," he said.

"You're no fun," Pete said as he screwed the knob back onto the control panel.

Patrick's stomach suddenly growled. "I'm getting kind of hungry," he said. "Do you want anything, Pete?"