Blood of Heroes, Part XV

[Sonnenburg]

Julian Bashir watched the swearing, hunched over figure with a mixture of amusement and pity. Han looked less like the rebel hero the legends painted him as and more like a humpless Igor when he got to work on the Falcon, which was more and more common these days. Keeping the Falcon spaceworthy had been a full time job for him and Annika during their searches for Nom Anor; with her in the hospital on Earth, it now seemed to be Han's sole reason for existence.

The technology jump had been too great for many people in the Milky Way, even for Bashir. His engineering extension courses had given him a taste for Federation technology, and his genetic enhancements had made it simple to extrapolate from them. But the assimilation of their technology was a difficult bridge to cross. Some, like Annika, had been involved from the beginning, and it had become second nature. Miles O'Brien had been the same way, absorbing their technology as fast as it arrived, with the same old Irish curses accompanying the new stubborn technology. Now it was probably too late; Federation technology had been absorbed into the Imperial system or discarded altogether.

Technology was what most people had seen during that transition, but for Dr. Bashir contact with the Empire and Republic had opened up new ideas about medicine. Some were better, some were worse, but the different approaches sparked things in Julian, sent him off in new directions. His papers had earned him brief stardom, and the Empire had frequently offered him high-ranking medical positions or research grants. He'd turned them all down. Even before Miles' death, he couldn't bring himself to work for them. He couldn't shake the memory of DS9 exploding. He'd heard about Jedi abilities, and had even seen them in action, and when that happened, it was like that for him. He could feel Ezri Dax vanishing from existence. Probably just his imagination, but he couldn't shake that feeling, and it drove him to no ends of hatred, hatred for the Cardassians and traitors of the Federation for their senseless brutality. Then, when the truth came out, it had been centered on the Empire, whose reasons were even worse. They killed his love, destroyed his life, for politics.

All those years ago, a young green Julian had taken an interest in Dax. As much as he would have liked to admit to the contrary, it was lust, not love, that he felt for the woman. Maybe that was why Dax brushed him aside, with all the years of the symbiont she could recognize what it really was in the young officer's eyes. But maybe he'd planted the seed of something there, because when he turned to Ezri Dax, she'd seen that things had changed with him... he'd changed. If Jadzia had gone ahead with a quick fling he'd have enjoyed her company and then moved on, but through the waiting and emotional maturing he'd found more in her when she came back to him as Ezri. It was never a fling with Ezri, never anything less than true love. Feeling her wink out of his life was something he could never get past. He'd looked around many times at his friends. Han, with three children; Annika, with a grandchild on the way, and Julian Bashir, an emotional widower for thirty years, and all because of the Empire. So what the hell was he doing out here?

Medicine.

It had taken Annika to shake him out of his mental slump and realize he'd made a mistake. Sure, he had done much good over the years at Bajor or with the McCoy foundation, but the small leaps he made back in his sickbay were nothing compared to what he could have accomplished. He'd let the hatred poison him; that infuriating counselor Borui, had tried to tell him about it more than once, but he didn't want to listen. How many lives would have been saved if he'd taken up even one offer from the Empire? Thousands? Millions? Instead he plied his trade on the back end of nowhere out of some subtle form of vengeance, and that led people like Annika to face terminal diseases without hope. Ironic, he thought, that he needed Ezri's counsel so much only because she wasn't there to give it. Well, now he was here, and now he could do his damndest to make up for three decades of hate. Not for the Empire; it could collapse for all he cared. No, for the people like him caught in the crossfire.

"Maybe we should find another ship," Bashir offered.

Han was hunched over, his arms tangled in a collection of unidentified components, but still he managed to twist his head under his arm and glare at Bashir. "There's still plenty of years left in the old girl."

"No offense, Han, but I think this ship is past its prime."

"The Falcon was built to last," Han said sharply. "The YT-line was a durable design and well-crafted. It's a work of art."

"Then perhaps it should be in a museum," Bashir said with a smirk.

"Ha-ha," Han said as he got back to work. "Listen, philistine, this ship has faced down Death Star I, Death Star II, the Executor, and the Borg. All of them are gone, but the Falcon's still here. How can you speak ill of a ship with that heritage?"

"I would be more easily convinced if it could get us off this planet," Bashir pointed out.

"Luke used to tell me that everything happened for a reason," Han said. "I ain't one to believe in mystical nonsense, but he's convinced me that not everything is luck, good or bad. Sometimes, some things just have to happen, even if we don't want them to." He was quiet, still tangled in the equipment, but not moving.

"Yes?" Bashir finally prompted.

Han's eyes darted back to Bashir, then he got back to work. "If the old bird hadn't had this problem, we wouldn't have been here for Bastian when he needed us, and he would have probably been seriously infected by that fungus, probably die."

"You're saying the ship was broken on purpose?"

"I'm saying this old girl has been through a lot, has never steered me wrong. Even when she couldn't perform, it was always for the best. If I need something to count on, you can damn well bet it's going to be something that has gotten me through thick and thicker."

Bashir nodded. After all, wasn't it why he stayed in his old sickbay all those years? To surround himself with the familiar and stay in the past, as close as he could be to his old friends... to Ezri... "I think I'll look over some more of that information Sebastian gave us," Bashir said. "The ISB may be bastards, but at least they have some valuable data on the Vong." Han grunted something, and Bashir left him to his work.
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Anakin Solo entered the Jedi Academy with the usual dread he faced every morning. Not always dread, of course; sometimes he wasn't so optimistic.

After Jacen and Jaina had made the decision to begin training more Jedi, they had thrown themselves into finding potential students. Anakin had been an integral part of that, having noticed some of the patterns the Sith had employed and using his own Force abilities. Jaina had assisted him in the recruiting while Jacen had made preparations, but overall Anakin couldn't help but feel that he was leading these people to their deaths at best, or even worse, the dark side.

Jacen himself seemed to be the biggest obstacle, although that wasn't to say he wasn't a skilled Jedi. He had handled the administration admirably, and he had gathered up much of the old records of the Jedi and training methodologies for their use. But Jacen's biggest problem seemed to be his vision. Anakin could see what he had in mind: a huge company of Jedi, ready to go forth and bring peace to the galaxies. And, naturally, a council of Jedi at the heart of it all, making the big decisions, containing only the wisest and most powerful of their number. Of course, who would that be, if not Jacen Solo? Not that there was a problem with that vision; it would probably do the galaxy some good, and Jacen would be able to guide them effectively. But that vision was a stumbling block. He was disappointed with the fact that Anakin had only located six candidates so far, and had made that abundantly clear. Anakin, however, had stuck to his guns: prove they could handle this, and he'd go about finding more, but he wasn't going to risk it. Anakin had a vision too, one of an army of dark Jedi sweeping through the galaxies, spreading fear and darkness to every corner. As dedicated as Jacen was to making his dream real, Anakin was devoted to ensuring his never left the confines of his nightmares.

Alema Rar was the one who filled him with both hope and wariness. She was a Twi'lek who had survived on one of the Vong held worlds until the Imperials had pushed them back. She was strong with the Force, and learned her lessons well. Jaina had taken to working with her separately, as it was clear she was moving light-years faster than most of her fellow students. But she'd lost a sister to the Vong during their occupation, and Anakin feared what it would do to her when her thoughts dwelled on the alien invaders. Controlling that hate was not going to be an easy challenge; even for Anakin, controlling his hatred for the Sith who had taken his limb hadn't been easy, and he'd been trained from youth by his wise uncle. How did Jacen, whose mind dwelled on the grandiose, hope to guide his students over these problems? But that was the real issue for Anakin; Jacen simply wasn't a good teacher. He was impatient, and he played favorites, and it was left to Jaina and Anakin to keep the small company of students from getting frustrated with him. There had been a heated argument when Jacen wanted to elevate he and his sister to the level of master, in keeping with the hierarchical nature of the Jedi. Their mother had finally stepped in on that one and quickly quashed his ambitions. However, that still did nothing to deflate his ego.

Anakin had found two of the students here on Chandrilla, although neither were natives. One was Pallo, from Dantooine by birth but brought here with his parents to join in the booming industries surrounding the new capital. He seemed to show promise, but he wasn’t moving very fast in his studies, and even though he was one of the first students, he was being passed by the others rather quickly. Still, Jaina had said that she had hope for the young man, and had taken time to work with him during her free time. That helped curb the frustrations Anakin often felt from the young man, not to mention Jacen’s attitude.

The other student was a Terran named Shaote Lu. He'd been the nephew of the senator seventeen years ago and had come with his family to the capital. Even after his uncle had been voted out of office, the family stayed, enjoying the prosperity of the world. Having spent most of his life here rather than Earth, he lacked many of the Terran quirks that had held over from the Federation days of the planet. He was peaceful, introspective, yet he could be passionate at times when it came to his studies. His progress was remarkable, and Anakin had a good feeling about him. Anakin worked with him individually when there was time; if this worked, Shaote would make an excellent teacher for the academy, although he kept that thought to himself.

Other students had taken some work to locate. Oria Nan was a recently joined Trill when Anakin and Jaina approached him. The Nan symbiont had been part of Starfleet in three prior hosts and Oria was an athletic young man. The idea of being one of the first of the Milky Way to join the Jedi was intriguing to both, as was the idea of physical and mental discipline it would require, not a problem for someone who had worked through the program and emerged with a symbiont. Still, even for him the program was a challenge, but he was disciplined enough to continue to work at it despite the frustrations Jedi training often brought.

Another promising student was Laudica Reshad, a Corellian. She had spent most of her childhood on ships with her parents and traveled the lanes with an ease often not seen in people ten years her senior. Still, Laudica was hotheaded by nature, but was learning to keep herself under control. Anakin suspected Jacen had a thing for her, which was its own mess. On the one hand, it kept her from getting frustrated at his behavior and helped her practice restraint. On the other, Anakin knew it was probably going to only lead to trouble if Jacen tried acting on his feelings. As was often the case, Anakin bit his tongue and concentrated on the work that needed to be done, and there was usually a lot of it.

Strangest of all was Sakonna. She was older than the three Jedi put together, but considering she was a Vulcan, that didn’t mean as much. Anakin had been surprised the Force had led him to her, as she was actually from the time before the discovery of the wormhole. He’d been concerned she’d be filled with Federation preconceptions that could cause strife, but it turned out she was a bit of a rebel herself. She’d been part of a group called the Maquis that had fought the Cardassians and later the Dominion. Fortunately for her, she’d been captured by the Federation rather than their enemies, or she probably wouldn’t have survived. Instead she had been sent to a Federation penal colony, only to be released when the Emperor’s order regarding political prisoners was sent out. That the Emperor was the same Ben Sisko who had been responsible for her capture was an irony Anakin had kept to himself.

Sakonna had been young at the time and rather idealistic, even with her logic. She’d joined the Maquis to right what she perceived to be a wrong, and while she may have matured, she never stopped believing that the overall goal was for the best. She was a defender of those who couldn’t defend themselves, and in that, Anakin knew he’d found the heart of a Jedi. Her training was going moderately well, for although she had the mental discipline necessary for control, she was still trying to unlearn half a century of experience. He could definitely see why the Jedi of old started so young, and why Luke had done the same with him and the others when it came to their training.

Sakonna had been the last, and that had been… two and a half months? It had seemed so much longer, but then, the days had grown longer and the nights shorter ever since they’d started this enterprise. There was always more to do, train the students during the day, train himself to be a teacher at night. His quarters were a mess with the writings of the old Jedi that Jacen had given him, and Anakin studied them fervently. He didn’t agree with what they were doing, but that didn’t mean he could afford to not give it the best possible effort. The dreams of spreading darkness spurred him on when his exhaustion seemed to get the better of him. It didn’t seem like ten weeks, it seemed like one long day, punctuated by the occasional nap.

The training for the day was done, but rather than tending to some of the individual work, the three Jedi had to attend another meeting. As usual, Jacen had called it, and as usual, he seemed to think he could dictate it. He started off by talking how happy he is at the initial progress, then tried prodding Anakin to find more prospective students. As always, Anakin refused, this time a little more sharply, as he hadn’t slept much the night before. Jacen quickly backed off, although his irritation was clear to all of them considering they were all Force users. But Jacen didn’t have the patience to do the scouting work, not when so many other things seemed to demand his attention.

Jacen moved on to his next point. “We’re out of lightsaber crystals,” he said as if they’d run low on bread and milk.

“How did that happen?” Anakin asked wearily.

Jaina cleared her throat. “I was working late, constructing some extra sabers in case there was an accident during training.” Her embarrassment was obvious. “I must have dozed for just a second and…”

“We’re all overworked,” Jacen said. “Let’s not dwell on it. But, obviously we can’t ignore this, not with the Sith out there.”

“Agreed,” Anakin said. “Any ideas?”

“Yes,” Jacen said. “I was thinking this would be a good exercise. Laudica has experience in travel; she and I could find additional crystals as a training mission.”

“No,” Jaina said. “We can’t afford your absence right now.”

“Nonsense, it won’t be long.”

“You’re the administrator,” Jaina said, “Anakin and I do the field work. That’s what was agreed to when we started, that’s what we’re going to do now.”

Jacen fumed for a moment. “Fine,” he said sharply.

“Good. Anakin, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer not to go. I think Pallo is finally starting to get the hang of telekinesis, and I don’t want to interrupt that.”

“Fine, but I’d appreciate it if you could work with Shaote a little. That Terran is really going to surprise you.”

“He already has,” Jaina said with a weak smile.

“It’s settled then,” Jacen said, getting up. “I’ll inform Laudica. I expect you’ll leave first thing tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Anakin said. In a way, he was relieved. Long trips through hyperspace meant blissful sleep, which was worth its weight in credits these days.

[darthdavid]

More amazing work. I love the dynamic you've got going between the twins and anakin.

[Crazedwraith]

Great, though these proto-jedi don't seme to be advancing as well as the sith...

[Prozac the Robert]

It's what you'd expect I think, the dark side is the quick and easy path.