Jedi Knight Neria Halai – Chandrilla

The senator that had temporarily allowed Dreamer to commandeer her ship had been quite gracious toward Neria. She'd showed them to a medical facility on her planet, declining to alert any level of the planet's government to their arrival.

Illegal, to say the least. The senator certainly had no authority to smuggle fugitives to the surface, but Neria was given to the impression that Mon Mothma was deeply saddened by the Jedi's lot. She had regarded the newly-minted knight with no end of courtesy and apology, then had departed from the secretive facility once Dreamer had been put in a coma.

"When will he come out?" Neria asked one of the medical droids. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Silence, please."

The droids didn't know who she was—or, at least, they hadn't explicitly been told who she was. It was often difficult to tell how much droids could deduce, and it wasn't helped by the ultra-professional medical droids. The dark chassis that covered them seemed to hide an intelligence, their flat circular eyes giving no indication as to whether they'd actually figured out who she was.

Neria had temporarily ditched her robes in favor of the kind of ruffled pants and jacket expected of an Outer Rim smuggler rather than a Jedi. Then she'd settled into the medbay while the children slept in a barracks overseen by Mon Mothma's personal guards.

The Jedi didn't acknowledge the medical droids answer, instead continuing to watch as they continued to cut into his skull. They'd already found a chip beneath the surface, one that would've killed him had it been left in much longer.

All those blasts let him keep his mind, she thought to herself. Strange how that worked.

Neria stood and wandered around the room, quietly inspecting the cargo that had been dropped off with them. The children's possessions, mostly, but that wasn't what caught her interest. She ran a hand over the tubes that had been piled in a corner. Paintings, she was certain, but she wondered if the once canvas he held so dear was present among their number.

She wondered if the surgery would change him, if he'd ever be able to paint again.

Before she could give it too much more thought, she felt something nearing. It was a power she'd felt before, stifling and overwhelming. When in combat with Shaak-Ti, there had been a shade of it, but now the light was oppressive.

There was only one person it could be, only one Jedi who could contain such raw power. The relief that he'd survived was soon joined by a pressing need to see him, a desperate want to find another like her. A Jedi, not simple trainees that she was expected to do something with. Neria walked outside and felt the form stop.

He was waiting.

Neria found Master Yoda awaiting in the small shed beyond. The Jedi master looked tired, his exhaustion practically written across his face. His ears had drooped, his shoulders were slumped, and even his eyelids seemed lower than usual. The wrinkles on his green hide looked so very thick, now.

"Master Yoda," she said, relief thickening her voice. "Master Yoda, you're safe."

"For lack of trying, it's not. Met the master of the Sith, I have. Failed to save the Jedi, I have."

"Not completely, Master. I'm still here. There are still Jedi scattered across the stars. We have younglings. It...won't be easy to survive, but we're not lost yet."

The old alien's face wrinkled even more as he smiled, the expression sadder than she could ever remember seeing. Even when Master Jinn had been killed, he hadn't looked so devastated. She hoped she'd brought some cheer to him, but she wondered if that were even possible after the massacre of everyone they'd known.

"True, that is. Teach them, you must."

"M—Master?" she asked, surprised. "Master, I'm no great Jedi. I barely escaped the carnage with my life, and I couldn't save so many. I had to run, I had to leave so many to their deaths. I saw Master Kenobi's transmission, why not him?"

"Has his own task, Obi-wan does." Yoda dipped his head in quiet contemplation before returning to her. "You will not wait. The future of our order, you have in your hands."

"The children? The former Sith? Grandmaster, I'm sorry, but I'm no teacher. I'm not foolish, I know you didn't intend for me to leave Durel's side until you thought I could actually be trusted to be on my own. How do you expect me to teach them? To shield them from the Sith?"

"A puzzle, it is. Take you with me, I will. Teach all of you for some time, I will. Then, released you will be."

"To found a new Jedi Order?"

"No." He shook his head, emerald eyes emphatic. "To hide. Hide until the time is right."

"I see." For some time, she watched him, weighing a question in her mind. Then she decided to simply ask it. "Master, you knew something was going to happen, didn't you?"

Yoda stared at her overlong, ears occasionally twitching. She'd seen the look before. He'd often regarded her with the same pensive silence every time she'd been brought before the council to decide whether her time was up. He'd always been the deciding vote, had always trusted her beyond the other Jedi Masters.

He'd seen something in her, had trusted her to find her center when half the masters had considered her a failure and the other half had only pity in her. That he would trust her now with so many Force-sensitive younglings spoke of his belief in her more than any council decision had.

"I suspected. Foresaw a dark future, I had. Yet know the method of our destruction, I could not. Wonder I do, whether it was inevitable."

"Inevitable." She weighed the word, found it distasteful. "Master, you can't possible mean that."

"Something else, we had become. See in younglings like you the future. The soldiers and warriors we had become, again the Jedi Code it was. A different way, we need. A traditional way."

"Durel often spoke of it," Neria told him. "Said he didn't like what the Jedi had become. If I'm being honest, I wondered the same. I was glad to go to battle to prove myself worthy of the chances I'd been given, but all the war, I thought it couldn't possibly be what the Jedi were meant for."

"Among reasons I'm glad you're safe, it is." The worried smile became kindly, and warmth returned to his eyes. "A good teacher, I thought you would be. Who better to teach than one who'd fought through failure, I thought. Now, ask you something difficult, I must."

"I'll do what I have to, Master Yoda. When will we leave?"

"We leave when Dreamer wakes." The tap of his staff against the floor invoked thoughts of his lectures. "Yes. Need a soldier, you will. More experienced in the darkness of the galaxy, he is. Retire, I will, until he wakes."

"I'll keep an eye on things, Master."

"Thank you." The smile was still sad, but there was a noticeable hope that came to it. "Did better than anyone expected, you did. Proud, you should be."

"I appreciate it, Master."

With a weary turn, the Jedi master turned away from Neria and limped out of the room, his cane striking against the floor with every other step. He paused at the door, looked up at someone unseen to her eyes, then continued on.

A moment later, Kurik was at the door, staring at the back of the departing Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He seemed every bit as surprised as she'd been.

"Master Yoda?" he asked. "He survived?"

"It seems so, yes. He wants me to teach the children." She looked up at him. "I thought you would be gone by now."

"I just wanted to say bye, Neria," he said. "I don't belong here among you, I'm no Jedi in the making. Let's not pretend I have the restraint or whatever it is that keep you all so calm. I'll find my own way, there's no need to worry about me."

"I'm worried more about what you'll get up to while I'm gone."

"Look, Neria..." The Miralukan pilot ran a hand through his hair, his voice descending to a conspiratorial mutter. "Come with me. You're clever, tough, beautiful, and I could go on."

Hearing him describe her in any way romantic brought a pause to Neria. Nobody had ever spoken toward her looks, nor had she ever given the matter any thought. After all, she was a Jedi, drifting along without physical attachments.

"I'm sorry, Kurik. I can't go with you, I have too many responsibilities here. Just...promise me you'll be safe, alright?"

"Yeah."

He turned to leave, then she called him back.

"I...here." She strode forward and pressed something into his hand. "You should have this."

Kurik didn't open his palm. She knew he could feel the beads that had once adorned her lekku, the power that would one day fade from them still pulsated softly. He looked down at his fist, then his blindfolded gaze came back to her.

"Why?"

"I don't know, Kurik. Just take them."

"Alright." He gently placed them in his pocket, then smiled. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Then he was walking away, and she felt a sadness overtake her. His romantic overtures had fallen flat, but he was still a good friend. Even more, she suspected that were the children not present, were her responsibilities not so crucial, she would've taken his offer. Freedom, instead of the heavy weight that bore her down.

Yet she couldn't dwell on it, especially when the younglings that were now her charges stumbled out of the barracks, looking around blearily. She felt their exhaustion more than the children. She'd gotten some sleep on the journey over, but it had been eight hours since then, and her sleep had been deeply troubled.

At their head stood the Togrutan siblings, older than the children but still young and impressionable even at only a few years younger than Neria. They may have been dark side apprentices, but common tragedy had bonded all of the younglings together. They were neither light or dark for the moment, but children who were lost and scared.

Neria stared off in the direction that Kurik had walked in, overlooking the serene city that the senator had set them in. With a scuff of boots, the two Togrutan joined her.

"We're...We're all hungry, Master Halai." Hearing them call her by such an honorific startled Neria, forcing her gaze to theirs. "We're hungry, and we need—"

"Don't worry, I'll get you something from the cafeteria. Mon Mothma told the soldiers to provide me with anything. Just don't let the children be seen. Better that they stay in the barracks until its time to leave. I'll deliver the food myself."

"You're not...going to be going anywhere, are you?" Esha asked. "They—They wanted me to ask, Master."

Neria looked over the Togrutan's shoulder to find the children still waiting, staring at her. They all wondered the same thing, that she would suddenly disappear from them. They were all without teachers, without anyone to set them right.

One day, they would be her charges, and she would be expected to keep them safe from the Sith. It was a duty that nobody could think to prepare for, something she thought impossible. With some help from the most learned Jedi of them all, though, perhaps she'd manage to find them some peace.

"No. I won't leave you. Not until you've been properly instructed."

"And how long will that take?"

Eyes watching as a familiar cargo vessel rose above the city, Neria smiled at the sound of eagerness in the girl's voice. Perhaps, as horrible as the last month had been, as heartbreaking as the loss of her order had been, there was still some lingering hope to be had.

"A very long time."

And there's the end of the first third of the story, not sure if I'll keep continuing, but maybe I will. We'll see.