The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 31: Could Use A Little More Training​

Nerim rushed out of the room with Aesha in tow. A concerned maid stuck her head out from a doorway, and Nerim pointed at her. "Call the guards!" He shouted, then ran down the hall back towards where he had come from. He only vaguely remembered the twists and turns they had taken to get here, and even then he realized after a few moments of running that the Jedi wouldn't even be where they had left them.

"Damn," he said sharply, turning to Aesha as they ran. "Where's your father?"

She thought for a moment. "He should be two levels up from here, in his study! He always—"

They slid to a stop as two guards rounded the corner, saw them, and drew their blasters. "There he is!" One said, leveling his pistol at Nerim. "Step away from the princess!"

"Whoa, whoa!" He raised his hands.

Aesha stepped in front of him. "Hold your fire!"

The guards, one a younger man and one quite a bit older, glanced at each other. "Excuse me, your highness, we were alerted to a kidnapping by a Dark Jedi—"

"Wait! I'm not the Dark Jedi!" Nerim whined. "I don't even think she is!"

"He's helping me, not kidnapping me!" Aesha spoke over him. "Arrest the Human Lady Jedi!"

The younger one had an expression of utter confusion on his face, but the older one kept it together. "That's quite the conflicting report with what the Lady Jedi said. If you are what you say you are, relinquish her to our custody—"

"Okay!" Nerim said happily, while simultaneously Aesha glared at the guard and shouted "I am not a thing to be relinquished!"

"Priorities, Aesha!" Nerim snapped at her, as they heard another pair of footsteps rush up a set of stairs.

Chey-Linn, with impressive alacrity—especially given her bruises—bounded to the top of the stairs at the end of the hallway. The two guards stood between the Jedi, and while the younger one was skittish and jumped to point his blaster at Chey-Linn, the older one kept steadily pointed towards Nerim.

Chey-Linn limped forward, defiant of the silent threat pointed at her. "Stand down. In the name of the Republic, the princess is under arrest."

The young guard blinked. "Under arrest?" He turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes on Chey-Linn, and spoke to the older guard. "I thought it was—"

She drew her lightsaber hilt and pointed it at Nerim. "That one is also defying the law. Who knows where he's taking her."

Nerim frowned. "From my point of view—"

Aesha stamped her foot. "Stop gawking and arrest her!"

The younger guard nervously began to lower his gun, and then raise it again, unsure of his next action. "W-what do we do? She's a Jedi. They have the right to..."

The older one spoke in a level voice. "We're loyal to the chieftain. Both of you, drop your swords. We'll handle this like civilized people when order is restored."

"Okay," Nerim said as Chey-Linn simultaneously said "No."

Chey-Linn continued. "You have no authority to demand that. I am acting as a representative of the central body of the Republic, and you must yield."

Nerim began to sense something, a rumbling in the room, a great anger emanating from Chey-Linn. A deep, roiling disquiet that was beginning to boil over. He felt flashes of rage and resentment, words rising to the back of his head unbidden, as if from another mental voice. Unfair, it growled. A quick mental checklist flashed in his mind, a list of laws and procedures, checked boxes. No, worse. Insubordinate. Illegal.

He placed a hand to the side of his head at the sudden shock of the alien thoughts. It's crystal clear, the voice snarled, Done everything right. Savages. He felt the pain of joints and bruises. Even attacked me. Cannot happen. Cannot be allowed. Cannot stand. Can't. Can't. Can't.

It was all too much. There was something else, too, some sort of...writhing. Retching, even. Something was deeply wrong in a way he couldn't account for, even beyond the energy she was putting off. Nerim cast his eyes down for a moment, and then raised them. "I can't give you my lightsaber if she gets to keep hers."

Chey-Linn ignited her lightsaber, a cold blue glow engulfing the hallway. "This will be settled in a high court, not in this tree by a bunch of palace guards in the Outer Rim. I will consider any further resistance a form of insurrection."

"Sir..." The young guard said nervously.

The older one flicked a switch on his blaster. "Set to stun. We have to ensure Aesha's safety."

He felt it again, that sudden flicker of vindication turning into rage at being denied. That sensation of victory being snatched out from under you, that burning fury of deserving something and having that thing taken away. Chey-Linn began running forwards.

Nerim suddenly felt a sensation actually meant for him, that electric tugging, and ignited his lightsaber just in time to see the stun ring flying towards him. He deflected it sideways, searing a circle into the wall next to him. A split second later the younger one fired at Chey-Linn, who deflected it directly back at him. The guard was tossed into the back of his older companion, sending them both to the floor.

Aesha grabbed the back of Nerim's collar and pulled. "Follow me!"

Nerim began to run with her towards the edge of the tree's structure, throwing a quick glance behind to see Chey-Linn momentarily distracted by dealing with the guards, swinging her lightsaber down and cutting the younger's blaster in half. He then looked back to Aesha and kept running with her. "Where are we going?!"

"High gardens! We'll climb up the branches to the next floor!"

He stayed a step behind her until they ran right through a pair of glass doors that were, mercifully, already open. The exterior platform was almost like the gigantic half-circle balconies on Utapau, and were absolutely covered in flowers and vegetation of all sorts. A series of strong branches, varying in width from about that of his leg to about that of their airspeeder snaked through the gardens and above them, where he could see another smaller balcony that, hopefully, would lead to his Master.

Aesha wasted no time jumping from one branch to another, clearly already practiced in this shortcut. He scrambled after her, wasting precious seconds having to either strain himself to follow her steps or plan out alternative routes more suited to his skill set. He tried to focus on Chey-Linn's energy, sense where she was in relation to him, but distance and distraction made it grow faint. He cycled his mind through every different facet, hoping to lock on to her anger, or her train of thought, but each individual attempt failed.

Except...he still felt that retching. Now that he focused on it, he felt it all around him, in every direction. It was ill and draining, repulsive and enervating. It made him want to stop reaching out with the Force, it made using it feel as if he were trying to climb a ladder with a pair of broken arms. Could...everyone feel that? Is that why, he wondered, neither Haaka Mahn or Arwain had sensed this turmoil?

They had only managed to make it about a third of the way there when Chey-Linn ran into the gardens with them. She began climbing after them with great alacrity, and Nerim immediately realized he wouldn't be able to make it before she caught up. She was just faster than the two of them. He landed on a relatively wide and flat branch, and ignited his lightsaber.

Chey-Linn jumped up and landed to his left, about a dozen feet away, and ignited her own blade. The branch was wide enough to properly stand on, but not enough for two people to walk by one another. It was perpendicular to the City-Tree, and Chey-Linn stood between him and the tree. Behind him was only Aesha and a couple dozen more feet of branch before it widdled away to a few twigs hanging over the edge. Below him were a tangle of brambles that would drop him back down into the garden, if only just barely.

He felt that rage flowing through Chey-Linn again, like rapids pulling her forward. She pointed her blade at him. "I'm giving you one last chance to return to your duty!"

Nerim nervously raised his blade in front of himself. He really wasn't sure he could beat her if he had to. He agreed with almost everything that frustrated her; she was better than him. Stronger in the Force. Even when he could only intuit that fact from context clues he knew it, but now as they stood apart from each other, he could feel it, he could feel the difference in pressure. He considered surrender.

Refuse, he heard her echo. I have the advantage. The skill, the environment, the law, the Force. Refuse, and let me prove it.

Aesha shuddered behind him. "Nerim...?"

Her lightsaber was most certainly not set to training mode. Neither was Nerim's. He swallowed. "You've already assaulted multiple people. I can't let you hurt her. We need—"

Heat. He felt burning heat across his face, like he just looked in a furnace. "She attacked me!" Chey-Linn yelled.

"We need to contact our—"

She stepped forward, and Nerim stepped back in fear. "No more stalling, not after what you did the last time!" She shouted. "Drop it or I will make you!"

Nerim took a deep breath. He stood there, still for a moment, letting the wind pass over him. The words 'I surrender' hung in his throat, but then, between the anger and retching and fear, he felt something from behind him. Aesha's nervous energy, the shivering of her muscles, tenseness of her core. The same exact thing he felt from her in the freezer on Raxus Secundus. She needed him then, and she needed him now. He hadn't thought he could help her then, but he did. He wasn't sure he could help her now, but...

He kept his blade raised. There was nothing else to say.

Chey-Linn's face darkened. "Haaka was right about you. You were always a time bomb waiting to go off."

Nerim's eyes widened, but he didn't have time to respond in any way before she stepped forward and swung at him. He deflected the attack, careful not to let the momentum carry him to the side where he might fall. She was highly trained in Shii-Cho, the most fundamental form of lightsaber combat, well-suited to this clash on a limited tree branch. Meanwhile, Juyo was absurdly risky in this circumstance; Nerim thought that it was at best a coinflip—and worse, it would almost certainly end in a lethal blow.

He defaulted to the basics of Makashi, making quick swipes and jabs in response, shuffling backwards and forwards on their limited axis of movement. He did not know his style as well as she knew hers. Each clash favored her, leaving him primarily on the defensive. Her superior speed let her swing from a multitude of angles, and he had to keep his hands close to his core to make up for it, limiting his offensive options.

He immediately felt that oppressive anticipation of failure, that knowing that he was going to lose. There was nothing to exploit here, no environment, no time to pull any tricks, no distractions. The time it would take him to draw his blaster would be suicide, and all of his other gimmicks were either something she knew about, or something that required lateral movement that was impossible on the narrow branch.

Nerim felt the crawling of electricity on his back, a tug towards Aesha. He somehow knew she was about to try something. "No!" He called back to her, a mere moment before she attempted to jump to another branch to circle around. "Don't fight her! You'll only get hurt! Even if she defeats me," he huffed, batting the blue lightsaber away with a clash of yellow sparks, "Even if she kills me, surrender immediately!"

Aesha hesitated, as Chey-Linn moved in and chopped her lightsaber down towards Nerim's waiting guard. He intercepted it, clashing with her blade. They moved and shifted in the bind, pulling and pushing each other, trying to get to some sort of advantageous position as the plasma fields of their blades slid in jumps and starts, intertwining and sticking together.

Nerim leveraged his strength and pushed, trying to get their bind in a position where he could safely deliver a kick to his opponent, but Chey-Linn pushed back with surprising strength, empowered by the Force. Nerim grit his teeth. "Are you really...trying to kill me?"

Chey-Linn looked him in the eye, her face alternating in color rapidly as their blades discharged golden light against one another. "I will do what I must."

"Mar'e," Nerim grimaced. They broke from the bind, and three short clashes followed. Nerim knocked their blades off of the center of battle, and attempted to use the opportunity to ram into Chey-Linn with his shoulder, hoping to begin the process of knocking her off the branch. He miscalculated, as she used her lower center of gravity to duck underneath him, causing him to stumble over her and nearly fall himself.

He twisted his body to stay on the branch as they nearly traded places. His desperate attempts at balancing were brought short when Chey-Linn slashed at him. His awkward positioning made him rely solely on his left hand to defend, and it wasn't enough. She broke right through his guard and cut into his bicep, and Nerim felt the searing blade pass through his flesh as if it wasn't even there—and then he realized, it wasn't, not anymore. A deep, primal animal panic took hold of him as he recognized the inch-deep gash in his flesh, almost to the bone. The edges of the tunic it had cut through were burning, and he involuntarily let loose a scream of pain and terror. He vaguely recognized that, at the same time, Aesha screamed out his name.

Chey-Linn took the space in the center of the branch he had been standing on, and planted her heel in his stomach, kicking him off. He felt smaller branches batter his body as he fell between them, some snapping around him and others buffeting him off in another direction. He attempted to reach out with his left hand and grab a passing branch to stop his fall, only to realize his arm didn't respond properly, half of the muscles he was attempting to use were simply not there.

He tumbled to a stop in a net of vines, hanging precariously over the long drop to ground level, and looked back up. His lightsaber had slid to a stop on the branch they were fighting on, precariously balanced, and Chey-Linn looked down at him, an expression of relief and triumph on her face. He could feel, she was not only glad that she won, she was relieved that it was easy.

His heart jumped to his throat as he saw Aesha bend down to pick up his lightsaber and ignite it, taking a battle stance. Chey-Linn's smile dropped and her eyes widened, her pupils shrunk to a pinprick, and she slowly turned her head to the Cathar princess. "So...You are training in the Sith arts. You are a meager, savage imitation of their evil."

Aesha held up Nerim's lightsaber, bathing her face in its yellow-green glow. "I may be just a fake," she said with a wavering voice, "But I am a fake Jedi."

Chey-Linn sneered at her. "We are NOT the same," she said, and then began to march towards Aesha.

Nerim's heart pounded faster and faster as he scrambled amid the branches, grappling for anything he could get a hold of and scrambling upwards as fast as he physically could with his left arm only partially functional. Maybe even faster. "No, no, no, no, no..." he muttered to himself, feeling a pit in his stomach, as if the sludge in his soul had coalesced into a black hole. Fatigue, searing pain, and most of all panic swirled and crashed in his mind, his weary limbs dragging himself up bit by bit, as he heard the first clashes.

Chey-Linn engaged Aesha cautiously, attempting to tease out any hidden tricks or skill she had. Aesha engaged heartily and bravely, casting her fear aside and pressing the attack. She was almost as fast as Chey-Linn, and even though her movements were stiff and she overcommitted to her swings more often than not, she was much stronger, and her range was much greater. Even with her nearly-nonexistent skills at lightsaber combat, she was dangerous.

Nerim was still desperately climbing as he felt as sudden foreign pang of fear. He glanced up to see Aesha bring down a formidable diagonal swipe, which Chey-Linn only barely leaned back and dodged in time. The Padawan's breath caught as she realized the sudden danger, her mind focused on what she perceived to be a threat—a Dark Sider in training, what she was sworn to destroy. In her mind, there was no room to hold back.

Aesha tried to catch her on the backswing, pulling the blade in a horizontal slash at Chey-Linn's shoulder height. It was a terrible mistake, made only more terrible by the fact Nerim could see exactly where it would lead a moment before it did. Chey-Linn quickly dodged underneath it, dropping to one knee while rushing forward and letting loose her own horizontal slash.

Chey-Linn's blue blade sliced directly through Aesha's legs, just above the knee, burning through her flesh with an electric hum and a hiss. He could almost swear he heard the bubbling and popping of her flesh at the point of contact, as the Cathar Princess let out a silent, shocked breath and fell to the branch beneath her with a sickening thud. Nerim's lightsaber slipped out of her hands and deactivated, beginning a long fall down the hundreds of stories to the savanna floor.

"NO!" Nerim screamed. He summoned all the strength he was capable of and made the final jump, soaring onto the branch a small distance from the two of them. Aesha was silent in shock, her eyes aimlessly staring forward at the branch beneath her as she struggled to breathe and Chey-Linn slowly turned to face him.

He pulled Aesha's uncompleted lightsaber from his belt and sent a surge of power down his arm, through his hand and into the hilt. He heard several sharp clicks, and then pressed the button, igniting a blade just as brilliantly blue as Chey-Linn's was cold. He glared forward at her, feeling a swirling in the air, an upwelling of power from somewhere within him. All of his fear had transformed into fury.

 

[Hyenanon]

Chapter 32: Going To Get Us Both Killed​

Nerim stepped backwards, inviting Chey-Linn to step forwards and away from Aesha as she silently writhed on the branch, trying to move legs that were no longer connected to her. Chey-Linn took the opportunity, swiftly advancing, raising her lightsaber with a short flourish.

"Are you looking for a repeat?" She said, without a hint of mirth or a smile. Whatever ability he had to read her mind was gone now, drowned out by the thumping of his heart in his ears, the clench of his teeth and the speed of his breath.

Nerim pointed his blade at her, his left hand noticeably shaky in its grip, mostly relying on his right. "Are you?"

He saw her tense up, and then rush forward with the intent to attack. Nerim decided he was ready for a coinflip. He ran directly at her, surprising her with his aggressiveness, and put his momentum into a vicious slash from below to cut diagonally across her body upwards. She blocked it without much effort, but the inertia carried their blades upwards, giving him a clear shot to kick her directly in the gut.

Her center of gravity tilted backwards, making her have to pull one foot behind herself to stop from falling on her rear. He was ready for it, and slashed at the leg that remained forward, catching her in an awkward position where she couldn't move her leg out of the way without falling forward. She relied on her strength to block his blow, turning her wide stance into an advantage, evenly distributing the force across her entire body in a way that was almost impossible to overpower.

However, Nerim could easily improvise with that. The horse stance, though it has powerful benefits when blocking, effectively cripples your range—somewhere she already suffered compared to him. He was safe from any counter-attack, and let his blade deactivate, swapping the hilt to his crippled left hand. Chey-Linn's lightsaber wildly swung to the side and she leaned forward off-balance, surprised by the sudden move.

Nerim grabbed her sword-hand with his right arm and pushed it outwards away from him, and moved in. He placed Aesha's lightsaber hilt under Chey-Linn's chin, and pressed the button. In the minuscule delay between pressing the button and the blade extending, he saw her eyes turn wild with fear, and in an incredible burst of speed she threw herself backwards. The blue blade singed her bangs as she fell back, tossing herself off the branch entirely at the mercy of gravity.

Nerim was unable to keep hold of her with his other hand, but any attempt she could have made at a counterattack was rendered moot as she fell. They broke apart, and found that luck was on her side; a quite small branch had found itself directly below her, and she landed on it unsteadily with both of her feet, rapidly attempting to regain her balance. She looked up at him, her expression having entirely changed to one of shock. The ease at which she was fighting earlier had entirely disappeared, replaced with the horrible realization; she could die here.

He paced impatiently, swapping Aesha's lightsaber back to his right hand and letting it trail along side him, humming as it cut the air. It briefly occurred to him, too, that he had just tried to kill her. The thought trembled in his head, as if it were a nervous child raising its hand in question. Something else in his brain, a snarling creature, snapped back at it, and it quietly retracted its objection. The lightsaber buzzed in his hand, eager to return to battle.

From below on the garden floor, a group of palace guards arrived, pointing their blasters upwards and squinting through the occluding sunlight to make out the two Jedi. From their position, Aesha wasn't visible, and so they confusedly began speaking into their communicators asking for instruction. He realized that at this rate, Jarroa either was or would quickly be informed, and by extension, so would their Masters. It wouldn't take them more than a minute or two to arrive.

Suddenly, he realized something poking at the edge of his consciousness, a brief glimpse into Chey-Linn's mind. In her, he found the exact opposite thought; her hands trembled as she came to the conclusion that she was truly, deeply alone. He felt...a flicker of what he had experienced in his nightmare, somewhere within her.

It was entirely irrational, but she was somehow convinced that she was never going to see Haaka Mahn again. Her senses had fooled her in some way, as if she had vertigo, like her inner ear was convinced she was spinning and falling even though she was still, and she could not help but heed the visceral sensation over cold rationalism.

Chey-Linn steeled herself, and crouched onto the branch, letting it drop with her weight and then spring back up with her leap. She soared through the air and flipped above him, landing on her feet on the side farther from the City-Tree. He moved forward and swung his saber with both arms, clashing with her. She breathed in sharply as she mustered her strength, attempting to push his blade back into himself.

He stared her in the eye, trying his best not to lose control, when he suddenly saw over her shoulder; Aesha's body, now unconscious—or worse—limp on the tree branch. Both of her legs scattered behind her. Suddenly, he felt that waterfall sensation from the Temple again, that white-water current now pushing him forwards. He didn't shy away from the conflict, putting his full weight into it. Chey-Linn's eyes widened as she felt him begin to overpower her in the bind, and she broke out of it, stepping backwards and then forward again for a quick counterattack.

She slashed at him several times in rapid succession, pushing him backwards, utilizing every ounce of her strength and speed. In one last maneuver, quicker than the eye could see in a well-practiced motion, she moved to one side and then the other, spinning to slash at him. It was faster than he could possibly respond, faster than Arwain had ever gone against him. And her slash went completely wide, as she over stepped and her foot slid halfway off the branch, throwing her balance off completely. He didn't even have to defend against it. For a brief moment, suspended in motion, he saw her eyes flatten with recognition, and her confidence leave her.

With half as much supernatural speed, Nerim responded by lunging forward, keeping his blade between himself and hers, and stomping on her foot. She grit her teeth in pain, but maintained control, readjusting her footing and trying to wind her lightsaber behind his defenses. He took advantage of his closeness and stepped in between her feet, twisting to place his back to her as he did so. He blocked her lightsaber with the blade in his right hand, and then used his left hand to grab the hilt of her lightsaber between her own two hands. He then began to push with both arms, away from the both of them.

Somehow, his crippled arm was outputting just as much—no, more force than he normally could muster with either arm in perfect health. Chey-Linn began to panic, attempting to knee or kick him, but his closeness ensured she couldn't get any proper leverage. Both of her hands were firmly trying to hold the lightsaber hilt, and she was unable to circle around due to the narrow branch. If he were in her position, he would've bit his crippled arm at the lightsaber wound, but the thought apparently either didn't occur or didn't appeal to her.

Instead, Chey-Linn suddenly let go of her lightsaber, and kicked him forward. Before he could turn around, he felt a familiar wave of strong pressure, and slid even further forwards, threatening to fall over entirely. He whipped around to see her thrusting both her hands out, and the air rumbled around him in a way that he felt more than heard. Suddenly it reversed, and Chey-Linn's lightsaber writhed out of his hand, beginning to fly back towards her.

"No." He reached his arm out, and the lightsaber froze in mid-air, shuddering back and forth. He realized a moment later that the voice had come from him. That sensation was growing stronger, and stronger still. He realized what it was, what his Master had described in the Temple: Righteous fury.

Chey-Linn was obviously surprised by the resistance, and the lightsaber slid in the air towards Nerim, before she regained her form and redoubled her efforts. Nerim stepped forward, pulling harder. Chey-Linn's voice escaped her throat in a strained groan as she used every last drop of her strength, but perhaps she was fatigued from overuse of the Force, or perhaps that righteous fury was stronger than either of them had realized. He stepped forward again, and it jiggled yet closer, until it was close enough.

Nerim slashed the hilt in half, splitting Chey-Linn's lightsaber down the middle. There was a brief explosion of blue energy as Aesha's blade passed through Chey-Linn's crystal, small arcs of azure plasma jetting in opposite directions out the top and bottom of it like a quasar, thoroughly melting all the components. The crystal fell to the branch superheated but unharmed, bouncing off and somewhere into the garden below. Nerim huffed in exertion, deactivating Aesha's saber and continuing to move forwards.

Chey-Linn's face paled. "My bla—"

She was cut off as Nerim's fist found its way into her jaw. He heard a crack as she dropped to her back on the branch. "We are not even CLOSE to done, chakaar!" He shouted, sitting with one knee on either side of her, his fist raised threateningly.

She coughed, sputtering and choking until a tooth was expelled from her throat and drooled out onto the tree in a mix of saliva and blood. His left hand shot out and wrapped around her throat, his right fist, still holding the deactivated hilt of Aesha's blade, ready to punch her directly into the branch below. That animal in his head snarled again. Cripple her, it growled. She deserves to lose something too.

His left arm, still shivering with pain and alien in its operation to him, missing some of its structure and relying on the Force to remain functional, pressed into her throat, cutting off her air. It squeezed as tight as it could, and her face began to turn red from the pressure.

But somehow, his right hand hesitated. He realized something felt wrong in his palm. The crystal of Aesha's blade was humming dissonantly. It...disapproved. Somehow, as he focused on it, he heard it speak in Aesha's voice in his head. Not me. Don't use me for this. I am a tool of a Jedi.

Nerim's mind snapped back into place, and he broke out of the stream. The righteous fury still swarmed around him, pouring down from the sky directly onto Chey-Linn, as if the world itself were trying to pummel her. But it broke around him, splashing off of his skin instead of flowing through him.

His left arm relaxed, at first voluntarily, and then very much not as whatever vitality he had been pressing into it left him. It hung limply at his side, throbbing with pain exceeding almost anything he had felt before. He leaned back on his heels and exhaled sharply at the sensation, while Chey-Linn warily looked up at him.

Suddenly, he felt a flare of anxiety behind and above him. "Chey-Linn!" He heard Haaka Mahn's gurgling voice shout, and then a series of flexing branches as the Knight jumped through the foliage down towards them. It was followed by a series of steps that were lighter, but no less quick.

Nerim climbed off of Chey-Linn and then fell backwards, his weary knees giving out and rolling him onto his back, his legs still resting on top of hers. He clenched his teeth in pain and closed his eyes, and when they opened, the blurry image of Haaka Mahn stood above him, the Knight's blue lightsaber active and pointed downwards.

"Get...Aesha...bacta," Nerim huffed.

"What did you do?!" The Knight asked, his tone clearly accusatory.

Arwain rushed up behind him, poking her head over his shoulder like a curious parrot that just so happened to have a sword at the ready. "This is rather bad. All three of them need medical—Nerim, whose lightsaber is that?"

"Arwain. Priorities." Nerim said through grit teeth.

"Right," she said. "Haaka, you grab Aesha. I'll—"

Nerim didn't hear the rest, as he was suddenly preoccupied with a ringing in his ears and a feeling of his peripheral vision blurring and then turning black. For a moment he felt like he was falling, and then he was unconscious.


--------------


Nerim had awoken from his dreamless sleep with his left arm in a hefty, bacta-packed cast, and immediately stood up and got out of bed before he had even realized he was in a bed. Arwain, who had been sitting on a chair next to him, immediately shoved him back down into the bed.

"Whoa there. You need to take it easy," Arwain said cautiously. She looked him over while he twisted his head to try and get an impression of where they were. It was a hospital room of some sort, small but private. It was afternoon outside. He must've been out for at least several hours.

"Huh," he said. "I'm not in jail. Or..." He glanced to Arwain. "You're in jail with me."

She lightly exhaled in amusement, but didn't smile. "Good instinct, but no. We're...I hesitate to say 'okay', but we're not in immediate danger right now. The—"

Nerim bolted upright in the bed again, his heart racing. "Where's Aesha? Is she okay?"

His Master stared at him for a moment. "I...hesitate to say 'okay.' But she's stable. She actually woke up a few moments after you passed out. Thanks to her swift testimony, you're not currently under arrest. I'm not sure if she's awake right now, she may still be suspended in a bacta tank. I don't think they'll be able to reattach her legs."

Nerim took a deep breath, and tried to relax again. His left arm was entirely numb, so the pain was mostly gone from his body. He stared at the ceiling, not sure what to make of it all.

Arwain continued. "Aesha said that Chey-Linn went crazy and attacked the two of you. Is that true?"

He uncomfortably shifted position. "It's...Not exactly. Aesha threw the first blow. The first physical one, anyways."

Arwain looked at him, her expression neutral, examining him closely as he continued the story from the beginning. He told her how they had argued on the way, admitted he was needling her as best he could. He explained their difference in legal opinion, to which Arwain offered no commentary even when Nerim prompted her with a short silence. Then he continued, describing how Aesha lost patience with the insults, and a fight broke out.

His hands—or well, his one hand that was free—trembled as he finished the description of the fight. "I disarmed her using the Force, and pinned her to the ground. Master, I...I wanted to cripple her. I think I wanted to kill her."

His Master slowly blinked, leaned forward and studying his expression. "And?"

"I—I don't think I would've stopped myself," he admitted weakly. "I didn't stop because I wanted to. I stopped because...Something like a voice told me to. If Aesha's crystal wasn't there, I don't know if..."

He trailed off. For the first time in seemingly so long, Arwain smiled, and placed her hand on his head comfortingly. "Nerim. Remember what I told you, on Raxus Secundus? A Jedi draws strength from the world around him. Don't think yourself deficient because you regained control of yourself from listening to an outside source. Take confidence in the fact that you can listen, even when you don't want to."

Nerim looked up at her, feeling his throat contract. Tears started falling from his eyes, and he tried not to sob. "Master, what's happening?" He asked, not even entirely sure what he was referring to.

She gently rubbed the top of his head. "I don't know, my Apprentice. There is something...wrong in the Force. Not just here, but everywhere. It is as if..." she trailed off, and then shook her head. "I have become aware of a great Darkness, somewhere. But I cannot pinpoint it. I will have to bring this to the attention of the Council."

Arwain's expression suddenly became pained. "Ugh," she sighed, "The Council. Master Fae is going to kill both of us."