Post by syriayntal on Aug 3, 2005 9:50:23 GMT -5
This was a story I wrote to help boost my marks in English. I used Star Wars stories and I kept getting straight Bs for them. Best marks I ever had for English. This story I already wrote before asking for another attempt to gain more marks. THe full story is 101,000 words long (177 pages I think). So I just cut pieces out and used it. On several reviews I had it made some people cry, which is always a good sign.
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Race Against Time
The next morning was the same as any other the boy came to knew. Master Chodon had them practise their lightsaber skills and their control over the Force. The boy was breaking off from what he was being taught. He concentrated on fighting, unarmed and with his lightstaff. He also studied different techniques using the Force like creating voids in the atmosphere where there was no oxygen and creating fires with a thought. The old man and Syria repeatedly told him to stop or tone down his practising the Force in this way. He took no notice. The sky was calm for the most of his practising until a storm swelled up and released its contents of rain and lightning.
Syria looked out a window at the rain streaking down the glass. The outside expanse of the countryside was dark occasionally lit up by the streaks of lightning. When the forks of light streaked down it casts strange shadows that the brain would interpret as something different. Syria thought she saw a creature lurking by the edge of a forest. She jerked back.
"Shadows can't hurt you child," the old man said.
"They can if you over look what is there," the boy corrected entering the room. "But shadows can't hurt you if you don't think they're something they're not." Syria moved close to the boy. He moved away from both of them on the other side of the room and began reading about all the starships of the galaxy. Syria looked at him for a moment then back to the storm. A bolt of lightning struck a tree setting it on fire instantly. The rain would douse the flames soon.
"I'm glad I'm not out there," she said. "What about you, Jedi?" He looked up from the data pad. His lifeless eyes stared at her in disgust.
"When a storm came, that was the only time I could drink clean water. Can you imagine drinking water that is infested with disease or contaminated by oil or animal faeces?"
Syria shook her head. "No, but I saw you do it."
"Then keep off the subject."
"You need to be more polite to people boy," Chodon said calmly.
"Why should I? No one cared about me when I was on the street until-"
"Until Syria came along," the old man finished.
"Well, yes," the boy said his tone dropping from being harsh to calmly admitting being wrong.
"That's right without her you'd still be out on the street." The boy slowly nodded then turned his attention to the datapad. "You still have a lot to learn about good manners my son." The boy's head flicked up and stared at the old man. He looked at the swirling grey clouds that were the boy's eyes. The message they seemed to give was clear. "I'm no one's son." The boy stood up and left carrying the datapad. Syria watched him stalk out.
"I have to apologise to him," Syria said starting to stand up.
"It's was a good thing you just did my child."
"How? By reminding him of a past he hates? A past he tries to forget."
"Yes. It is known as tough love." Chodon sighed. "You will learn later in life that bringing back painful memories will help him overcome his fears. Besides he looks up to you, Syria." Syria frowned not believing him. "It's true. He's going out of his way to become a Jedi to show you haven't done the wrong thing by bringing him in. Have you noticed he has the same type of training clothes?" Syria tilted her head to one side.
"Yours is a full emerald body suit with that black V shaped sash. He's copied it with the exceptions that his clothes are black and the sash is white. He is trying to be like you, Syria. He just doesn't want to admit it."
"I never knew that."
"There is much you don't know of him and neither do I. He can only tell us." Syria walked out after the boy.
The boy stopped by the inner entrance to the courtyard. He watched the rain trickle down the window and splash against the water of the fountain and stone path. Syria slowly walked up to him.
"I'm sorry Jedi. I should have thought."
"You should have," he said bitterly. He stared out at the rain as another streak of lightning shot out of the sky followed by the loud roar of thunder. "It's just that I've lived out there on the streets all my life. It's hard for me to forget," he paused. "If you don't mind I would like to be on my own for a while." Syria did not utter a word and left with no argument. He looked on at the sky as another flash of lightning came.
Another memory hit him hard.
The world was spinning as he landed on a stone block hard. He was between two tall buildings he didn't recognise. He looked up at the dark grey sky then to a man who had just thrown him off a transport. The man pointed at him and shouted at him. The words were slipping his mind. The hatch closed and the transport lifted up into the sky. As it pierced the grey blanket that covered the sky rain began to fall.
The boy shook his head. He found himself away from the buildings and in the garden outside the house. There was no rain or clouds. Just the sharp bitterly cold wind. He looked to his arms where he was holding a bundle of sticks. He continued to pick some more up. For some reason he knew what to do even though not being told what to do. A scream rang out from the other side of the house. He dropped the sticks and ran in its direction. He saw the old man kneeling over someone. He moved closer.
"Master what's wrong." He raised his head. Tears flowed down his cheeks.
"It's...it's Syria." He moved away. The boy was startled. "She's dead." The boy moved away. He looked at Syria's motionless body, eyes closed like she was sleeping. She wore some dull coloured work clothes. He stared at her, he was overcome with emotions that he thought did not exist to him. For the first time in his life he cared for someone. He felt a hand grip his shoulder. With lightning reflexes he grabbed the person's wrist with his left hand. His right fore arm pushed down on their shoulder. He used his full weight and brought them to the floor. He raised the person's arm with his left hand and pushed down with his forearm.
"Get off me!" Syria shouted. The boy let go and backed away. Syria stood up and straightened her clothes. "What's wrong with you, Jedi?" He did not reply. Syria went from being angry to being very concerned. "Oh. Another memory came?" He slowly nodded slowly running his hand through his brown/blonde hair trying to wake from his nightmare. "I was worried, you were gone for over two hours."
"Two hours!" he exclaimed. "That's never happened before." He slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees. Syria crouched down.
"Cheer up," she said comfortingly, "you're going to get through this Jedi." He looked at her. His grey eyes focused on her liquor brown eyes. What was the image about her dying all about? He leaned forward and hugged her. She was confused when he did, but she just hugged him back.
Over the years the two helped each other even more with their problems. Syria encouraged the boy to go to Berescal and talk to some of her friends. The boy found it hard. She also helped with the reoccurring images. In return the boy helped her more with communicating through the Force. Syria managed to reach him from quite far away, not as far as she wanted. The old man had taught the boy of the Empire's purge of the Jedi. The boy was quick to anger about it. So the old man chose not to tell him any more. During the time neither one noticed that their master was becoming ill. He did not show it as he thought it would distract them from their training. The consequences would be dire.
It was the last month of autumn, winter was drawing near and the trees had nearly lost all their leaves. The two Jedi were competing as usual trying to out jump and race each other. Syria seemed to always lose but she managed to beat him in making machines work. The old man called them to him. The two walked side by side. They had reached their full height. Syria was taller than the man who was at medium height. She kept her hair unbound, she preferred to feel the wind blow through it. Jedi towered above all of them. He just stood at one hundred and ninety centimetres. Whenever he and Syria went to Berescal he would frighten any would be attacker with his size.
"I need you two to do some things for me."
"Yes, Master Chodon," Syria said.
"Syria I need you to check the roof. A tile must be loose. Water has been dripping in to my study." She nodded. "Jedi I need you to collect some fire wood before they get damp." Jedi stood back as he heard those words. The image of Syria dying came back after all the years he tried to suppress it. "What's wrong?" He shook his head.
"Nothing much. Just a bit of déjà vu." They left. Jedi helped Syria carry the ladder. "Be careful," he cautioned leaning the ladder against the wall.
"Hey, aren't I always?" she said putting a foot on the ladder. "Since when do you care about my well being."
"Never. Just remember that camping trip we went to by the lake."
Syria laughed. "I keep saying I'm sorry." She started to climb. "How was I supposed to know about that water dragon?" she said laughing. Jedi moved around to the other side of the house. He slowly and cautiously picked up the logs waiting for the scream. Time went by, nothing. The only sound was the swaying of branches. He began to think it was just a thought he had made up. He carried on to pick the logs up. The scream broke the silence. Jedi dropped the logs and ran to the other side of the house. As he rounded the corner he saw the ladder lying away from the wall and Syria lying motionless on her back. The old man was kneeling over her. He picked his head up in the direction of Jedi, tears left a long trail down his cheeks.
"It's Syria," he said sobbing. "She's dead." Jedi was not surprised.
He looked blankly at her lifeless body. He felt strange, emotions flooded through him like a raging torrent of water. He did not show them. "I know," he said with no sign or glimpse of emotion behind the words.
"How can you just stand there?" the old man said to him with bitterness.
"I knew this was going to happen, years ago." He kept his eyes on Syria's calm, tranquil face.
"Why didn't you say so?"
"I didn't believe it was true." The old man stared at him sternly. "I don't know how, but I just saw this." He went to one knee and held his hand over her face. He dragged his middle three fingers over the contours of her face and let his hand rest on her chest. "Goodbye."
"Do you feel anything now Jedi? Do you feel anything for her?"
"No," he said plainly, not choosing his words carefully.
"You only think about yourself and no one else. You have to be one of the most uncaring people in the galaxy! After all she's done you can't even say thank you!" Jedi did not confront that remark. The old man looked at the Jedi's hand, a wisp of smoke came from under his hand and the gaps in his fingers. Syria's eyes flicked open.
She coughed. "Jedi?" she said softly. The old man reclined and looked at Jedi then to Syria. "What happened?" The old man helped her to sit up.
"I would like to know too." He looked at Jedi. He shrugged. Jedi carried her up into her room and left her on her bed. The old man gave her a warm drink and explained what happened.
"So let me get this straight, I died, but now I'm alive. Now tell me that does not make any sense."
"I have to agree with you there." He turned to Jedi, who stood by the door arms folded. "It seems that Jedi has the power to tap the Force leaving someone and bring it back to them." Jedi just stared at them. "How do you feel?"
Jedi didn't say anything. He never told them what he felt.
"I guess you must be tired. You must use up a lot of energy to perform that technique."
"But how did he do it if he didn't know he could do it?"
"I guess emotion is the key. Like with every choice we make in our lives. When Jedi was standing over you I sensed emotions consuming him. There was a trace of compassion, concern and love from him. I picked those up easily as he doesn't usually show them. Most important of all they were directed to you Syria." She took another sip of her drink and smiled. Jedi turned and left. Jedi walked to the balcony that overlooked the river. Master Chodon came up behind. Jedi faced him. "Thank you again Jedi. It means so much to me that you saved her. Syria is the only closet thing I have to a daughter."
"I don't want any congratulations or any complements."
"Well you're going to get more. Syria wants to see you." Master Chodon left going down the stairs. Jedi took one last look at the river and quickly turned to her room. He pulled the gloves on his hands tighter. He walked in slowly. She asked him to come closer. He stayed by the door. Syria got up and moved closer to him. She hugged him. Jedi moved a short step back.
"I just want to say-"
"Thank you. I know," he said breaking in. "I don't need any okay." Syria tilted her head to one side.
"Jedi you must admit you have feelings for me. That's what Master Chodon said."
"I'm telling you this once more. I have no feelings for you," he said harshly.
"If you didn't care for me I would not be standing here now, would I?" Care. The word rang out in his head. An image came of him leaning over a branch holding onto Syria by the wrist. The problem was it was not Syria.
"If you did not care for me you would not have saved me," she said.
"Jedi are you okay? You were far away again." He frowned at her.
"I'm fine." He left despite Syria's calls to stay. He moved down stairs into the kitchen. The old man was already in there. Jedi could see something was wrong. He was staggering, unable to stand properly. "Master Chodon. Are you all right?" The old man forced his legs not to shake and turned to Jedi.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong." The Jedi's grey eyes saw right through the lie. "Obviously there is no fooling you. I just can't say at the moment." He slowly walked away.
Later in the day Syria dragged Jedi with her on a walk. Leaves began falling as a brisk wind picked up. Syria shuddered even though she wore a thick coat. Jedi only wore his black training clothes and white V-shaped sash. The falling golden-brown leaves were like falling glints of a firestorm from a comet entering a planet's atmosphere. Jedi kept his eyes on the ground rarely picking is head up from the golden carpet. Syria looked at Jedi with a twinge of concern. It was never a twinge, she was always concerned for him. Moving over a wooden bridge Syria stopped. Jedi carried on a few paces until he noticed she was not by him. He stood still for a second then slowly moved next to her.
She looked over the river that was beginning freeze. She watched the leaves float onto the moving water and away. Jedi kept his eyes by his feet. Syria looked at him with a sad face.
"Jedi what's wrong?" He was silent for a moment.
"I don't like it," he said not taking his eyes off the wooden decking.
"The walk?"
"No, death. I guess it is something you have to be scared of." Syria pulled his head towards her. His cheeks were freezing, it had to be the same with her hands touching his face for him.
"Jedi you aren't afraid of anything," she said trying to comfort him.
"Are you so sure?" Syria smiled. Jedi felt her smile warm him partially, but the cold realisation of death was still in his mind.
"I know you're not, neither am I. After today I will know you will always be there to save me."
"What if I'm not with you?"
"You always look for bad things happening. Can't you think of anything good?" Jedi pulled back.
"No." He left walking back to the house. Syria watched him go, then turned back to the river. There was something troubling him. Maybe Master Chodon was right. Maybe Jedi did care for her but did not want to show it. I guess there are still things I don't know about him. I hope I could know more. Syria carried on with her walk then moved back to the house a few hours later.
The next day Jedi rose early, just before the sun came over the horizon he needed time to think. He departed for the underground garage that contained his rebuilt Imperial speeder bike he managed to persuade someone to give it to him. Before he went in he looked to the orange and red sky. The two moons were slowly sinking behind the horizon where the sun rises. The population of Sennacherib called this event in the morning 'The death of the night and birth of a new day. The death of the two moons forming the new born sun.' It was the same when night came except the words were swapped around. Jedi saw no point in calling it that. Day was day. Night was night. There was nothing special to him about it. He flipped the repulser lift controls on, the bike lifted a foot into the air. Jedi looked at the helmet that is supposed to be used to give information to the path ahead and protect his head. He picked it up. He then placed it back on the tool covered and engine strewn work bench. He saw Syria was trying to make improvements to her speeder for when they raced again.
Jedi sat on the bike and fed large amounts of fuel to the engine. He pushed on the foot pedals. The speeder tore off at great speeds.
The drone/whine of the bike's engines woke Syria. She looked out the window seeing Jedi disappear into the forest. She checked the chronometer that was on a bed side table. When she saw how early it was she dropped her head back into her pillow and went back to sleep. Jedi weaved in and out of trees. Normal people had no idea of what they ahead of him with out the crash helmet. He did not need it. He had the Force to guide him. He sensed a branch was falling up ahead. He pulled back on the handles to gain altitude. When he came to where the Force told him of the fallen branch there was nothing. No sign of any fallen tree or branch. A loud creaking and snapping noise came as a large branch dislodged from a tree trunk. It crashed through other branches and pulled them down with it. Jedi increased his speed hoping to fly under it. He was not fast enough. The tip of the branch clipped the exhaust port.
The force of the blow sent him off the bike. He landed hard on the dark soil and wood mulch ground. He rolled side ways for a while then banged his head hard on an exposed root. The speeder spun wildly out of control. It landed on its side and left a large path of upturned soil and shrubs. As it hit the ground it skipped into the air and smashed into a tree. Jedi lay motionless as the speeder bike landed with a loud crash.
Jedi quickly sat up. He looked about the forest for his speeder bike. He saw the damaged bike twenty metres away. Her check his chronometer. He had been out for an hour and a half. He got to his feet and moved to the bike. He pulled it off it's side. The steering vanes were bent out of place. He touched them to see how loose they were. The vanes snapped off as he touched them. He looked to the engine. Fuel seeped out of the delivery line. The engine had the power converter and air intake rip out of it and the pedals were gone. It was beyond repair for him.
"Trust the Force," he said to himself. Master Chodon told him and Syria that the Force would guide them, all they had to do was to trust it. He trusted the Force. "Look where it's got me." A slight touch from the Force hit him. "Syria," he said quietly. He turned back to the house and ran. He used the Force to push him faster. He grew tired but he knew he had to get back to Syria. He jumped over some low fallen stumps and bushes. He slipped in some mud coming to a dirt bank. His legs hit each other and he rolled down the bank. His face hit some mud sending a small spray of mud in the air. He lay there for a second. His ankle felt like it was throbbing. He pulled himself up. Syria needed him. He had no idea what was happening. For all he knew the Empire had taken them prisoner. He knew this was a race against time which he had an undetermined amount of time.
His lungs burned as he neared the house. He jumped over the boundary fence and into the house. He check the rooms upstairs calling for both of them. He came to Master Chodon's study. He found Syria over his dead body. She turned to him.
"Help him," she pleaded. "Use the Force." He placed his hand on the old man's chest. Nothing came. No wisp of smoke or movement from him. He tried many times. Still nothing.
"I can't." Syria burst out crying and placed her head on the old man's chest. That night Syria stayed away from him. After he admitted he could not do anything Master Chodon's body faded away. He had joined the Force. He tried to comfort her but she disappeared out the door. Watching her go he knew Syria hated him. He knew it. For the first time he wasn't able to protect her feelings. He failed her. He didn't want to do that again.
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Race Against Time
The next morning was the same as any other the boy came to knew. Master Chodon had them practise their lightsaber skills and their control over the Force. The boy was breaking off from what he was being taught. He concentrated on fighting, unarmed and with his lightstaff. He also studied different techniques using the Force like creating voids in the atmosphere where there was no oxygen and creating fires with a thought. The old man and Syria repeatedly told him to stop or tone down his practising the Force in this way. He took no notice. The sky was calm for the most of his practising until a storm swelled up and released its contents of rain and lightning.
Syria looked out a window at the rain streaking down the glass. The outside expanse of the countryside was dark occasionally lit up by the streaks of lightning. When the forks of light streaked down it casts strange shadows that the brain would interpret as something different. Syria thought she saw a creature lurking by the edge of a forest. She jerked back.
"Shadows can't hurt you child," the old man said.
"They can if you over look what is there," the boy corrected entering the room. "But shadows can't hurt you if you don't think they're something they're not." Syria moved close to the boy. He moved away from both of them on the other side of the room and began reading about all the starships of the galaxy. Syria looked at him for a moment then back to the storm. A bolt of lightning struck a tree setting it on fire instantly. The rain would douse the flames soon.
"I'm glad I'm not out there," she said. "What about you, Jedi?" He looked up from the data pad. His lifeless eyes stared at her in disgust.
"When a storm came, that was the only time I could drink clean water. Can you imagine drinking water that is infested with disease or contaminated by oil or animal faeces?"
Syria shook her head. "No, but I saw you do it."
"Then keep off the subject."
"You need to be more polite to people boy," Chodon said calmly.
"Why should I? No one cared about me when I was on the street until-"
"Until Syria came along," the old man finished.
"Well, yes," the boy said his tone dropping from being harsh to calmly admitting being wrong.
"That's right without her you'd still be out on the street." The boy slowly nodded then turned his attention to the datapad. "You still have a lot to learn about good manners my son." The boy's head flicked up and stared at the old man. He looked at the swirling grey clouds that were the boy's eyes. The message they seemed to give was clear. "I'm no one's son." The boy stood up and left carrying the datapad. Syria watched him stalk out.
"I have to apologise to him," Syria said starting to stand up.
"It's was a good thing you just did my child."
"How? By reminding him of a past he hates? A past he tries to forget."
"Yes. It is known as tough love." Chodon sighed. "You will learn later in life that bringing back painful memories will help him overcome his fears. Besides he looks up to you, Syria." Syria frowned not believing him. "It's true. He's going out of his way to become a Jedi to show you haven't done the wrong thing by bringing him in. Have you noticed he has the same type of training clothes?" Syria tilted her head to one side.
"Yours is a full emerald body suit with that black V shaped sash. He's copied it with the exceptions that his clothes are black and the sash is white. He is trying to be like you, Syria. He just doesn't want to admit it."
"I never knew that."
"There is much you don't know of him and neither do I. He can only tell us." Syria walked out after the boy.
The boy stopped by the inner entrance to the courtyard. He watched the rain trickle down the window and splash against the water of the fountain and stone path. Syria slowly walked up to him.
"I'm sorry Jedi. I should have thought."
"You should have," he said bitterly. He stared out at the rain as another streak of lightning shot out of the sky followed by the loud roar of thunder. "It's just that I've lived out there on the streets all my life. It's hard for me to forget," he paused. "If you don't mind I would like to be on my own for a while." Syria did not utter a word and left with no argument. He looked on at the sky as another flash of lightning came.
Another memory hit him hard.
The world was spinning as he landed on a stone block hard. He was between two tall buildings he didn't recognise. He looked up at the dark grey sky then to a man who had just thrown him off a transport. The man pointed at him and shouted at him. The words were slipping his mind. The hatch closed and the transport lifted up into the sky. As it pierced the grey blanket that covered the sky rain began to fall.
The boy shook his head. He found himself away from the buildings and in the garden outside the house. There was no rain or clouds. Just the sharp bitterly cold wind. He looked to his arms where he was holding a bundle of sticks. He continued to pick some more up. For some reason he knew what to do even though not being told what to do. A scream rang out from the other side of the house. He dropped the sticks and ran in its direction. He saw the old man kneeling over someone. He moved closer.
"Master what's wrong." He raised his head. Tears flowed down his cheeks.
"It's...it's Syria." He moved away. The boy was startled. "She's dead." The boy moved away. He looked at Syria's motionless body, eyes closed like she was sleeping. She wore some dull coloured work clothes. He stared at her, he was overcome with emotions that he thought did not exist to him. For the first time in his life he cared for someone. He felt a hand grip his shoulder. With lightning reflexes he grabbed the person's wrist with his left hand. His right fore arm pushed down on their shoulder. He used his full weight and brought them to the floor. He raised the person's arm with his left hand and pushed down with his forearm.
"Get off me!" Syria shouted. The boy let go and backed away. Syria stood up and straightened her clothes. "What's wrong with you, Jedi?" He did not reply. Syria went from being angry to being very concerned. "Oh. Another memory came?" He slowly nodded slowly running his hand through his brown/blonde hair trying to wake from his nightmare. "I was worried, you were gone for over two hours."
"Two hours!" he exclaimed. "That's never happened before." He slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees. Syria crouched down.
"Cheer up," she said comfortingly, "you're going to get through this Jedi." He looked at her. His grey eyes focused on her liquor brown eyes. What was the image about her dying all about? He leaned forward and hugged her. She was confused when he did, but she just hugged him back.
Over the years the two helped each other even more with their problems. Syria encouraged the boy to go to Berescal and talk to some of her friends. The boy found it hard. She also helped with the reoccurring images. In return the boy helped her more with communicating through the Force. Syria managed to reach him from quite far away, not as far as she wanted. The old man had taught the boy of the Empire's purge of the Jedi. The boy was quick to anger about it. So the old man chose not to tell him any more. During the time neither one noticed that their master was becoming ill. He did not show it as he thought it would distract them from their training. The consequences would be dire.
It was the last month of autumn, winter was drawing near and the trees had nearly lost all their leaves. The two Jedi were competing as usual trying to out jump and race each other. Syria seemed to always lose but she managed to beat him in making machines work. The old man called them to him. The two walked side by side. They had reached their full height. Syria was taller than the man who was at medium height. She kept her hair unbound, she preferred to feel the wind blow through it. Jedi towered above all of them. He just stood at one hundred and ninety centimetres. Whenever he and Syria went to Berescal he would frighten any would be attacker with his size.
"I need you two to do some things for me."
"Yes, Master Chodon," Syria said.
"Syria I need you to check the roof. A tile must be loose. Water has been dripping in to my study." She nodded. "Jedi I need you to collect some fire wood before they get damp." Jedi stood back as he heard those words. The image of Syria dying came back after all the years he tried to suppress it. "What's wrong?" He shook his head.
"Nothing much. Just a bit of déjà vu." They left. Jedi helped Syria carry the ladder. "Be careful," he cautioned leaning the ladder against the wall.
"Hey, aren't I always?" she said putting a foot on the ladder. "Since when do you care about my well being."
"Never. Just remember that camping trip we went to by the lake."
Syria laughed. "I keep saying I'm sorry." She started to climb. "How was I supposed to know about that water dragon?" she said laughing. Jedi moved around to the other side of the house. He slowly and cautiously picked up the logs waiting for the scream. Time went by, nothing. The only sound was the swaying of branches. He began to think it was just a thought he had made up. He carried on to pick the logs up. The scream broke the silence. Jedi dropped the logs and ran to the other side of the house. As he rounded the corner he saw the ladder lying away from the wall and Syria lying motionless on her back. The old man was kneeling over her. He picked his head up in the direction of Jedi, tears left a long trail down his cheeks.
"It's Syria," he said sobbing. "She's dead." Jedi was not surprised.
He looked blankly at her lifeless body. He felt strange, emotions flooded through him like a raging torrent of water. He did not show them. "I know," he said with no sign or glimpse of emotion behind the words.
"How can you just stand there?" the old man said to him with bitterness.
"I knew this was going to happen, years ago." He kept his eyes on Syria's calm, tranquil face.
"Why didn't you say so?"
"I didn't believe it was true." The old man stared at him sternly. "I don't know how, but I just saw this." He went to one knee and held his hand over her face. He dragged his middle three fingers over the contours of her face and let his hand rest on her chest. "Goodbye."
"Do you feel anything now Jedi? Do you feel anything for her?"
"No," he said plainly, not choosing his words carefully.
"You only think about yourself and no one else. You have to be one of the most uncaring people in the galaxy! After all she's done you can't even say thank you!" Jedi did not confront that remark. The old man looked at the Jedi's hand, a wisp of smoke came from under his hand and the gaps in his fingers. Syria's eyes flicked open.
She coughed. "Jedi?" she said softly. The old man reclined and looked at Jedi then to Syria. "What happened?" The old man helped her to sit up.
"I would like to know too." He looked at Jedi. He shrugged. Jedi carried her up into her room and left her on her bed. The old man gave her a warm drink and explained what happened.
"So let me get this straight, I died, but now I'm alive. Now tell me that does not make any sense."
"I have to agree with you there." He turned to Jedi, who stood by the door arms folded. "It seems that Jedi has the power to tap the Force leaving someone and bring it back to them." Jedi just stared at them. "How do you feel?"
Jedi didn't say anything. He never told them what he felt.
"I guess you must be tired. You must use up a lot of energy to perform that technique."
"But how did he do it if he didn't know he could do it?"
"I guess emotion is the key. Like with every choice we make in our lives. When Jedi was standing over you I sensed emotions consuming him. There was a trace of compassion, concern and love from him. I picked those up easily as he doesn't usually show them. Most important of all they were directed to you Syria." She took another sip of her drink and smiled. Jedi turned and left. Jedi walked to the balcony that overlooked the river. Master Chodon came up behind. Jedi faced him. "Thank you again Jedi. It means so much to me that you saved her. Syria is the only closet thing I have to a daughter."
"I don't want any congratulations or any complements."
"Well you're going to get more. Syria wants to see you." Master Chodon left going down the stairs. Jedi took one last look at the river and quickly turned to her room. He pulled the gloves on his hands tighter. He walked in slowly. She asked him to come closer. He stayed by the door. Syria got up and moved closer to him. She hugged him. Jedi moved a short step back.
"I just want to say-"
"Thank you. I know," he said breaking in. "I don't need any okay." Syria tilted her head to one side.
"Jedi you must admit you have feelings for me. That's what Master Chodon said."
"I'm telling you this once more. I have no feelings for you," he said harshly.
"If you didn't care for me I would not be standing here now, would I?" Care. The word rang out in his head. An image came of him leaning over a branch holding onto Syria by the wrist. The problem was it was not Syria.
"If you did not care for me you would not have saved me," she said.
"Jedi are you okay? You were far away again." He frowned at her.
"I'm fine." He left despite Syria's calls to stay. He moved down stairs into the kitchen. The old man was already in there. Jedi could see something was wrong. He was staggering, unable to stand properly. "Master Chodon. Are you all right?" The old man forced his legs not to shake and turned to Jedi.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong." The Jedi's grey eyes saw right through the lie. "Obviously there is no fooling you. I just can't say at the moment." He slowly walked away.
Later in the day Syria dragged Jedi with her on a walk. Leaves began falling as a brisk wind picked up. Syria shuddered even though she wore a thick coat. Jedi only wore his black training clothes and white V-shaped sash. The falling golden-brown leaves were like falling glints of a firestorm from a comet entering a planet's atmosphere. Jedi kept his eyes on the ground rarely picking is head up from the golden carpet. Syria looked at Jedi with a twinge of concern. It was never a twinge, she was always concerned for him. Moving over a wooden bridge Syria stopped. Jedi carried on a few paces until he noticed she was not by him. He stood still for a second then slowly moved next to her.
She looked over the river that was beginning freeze. She watched the leaves float onto the moving water and away. Jedi kept his eyes by his feet. Syria looked at him with a sad face.
"Jedi what's wrong?" He was silent for a moment.
"I don't like it," he said not taking his eyes off the wooden decking.
"The walk?"
"No, death. I guess it is something you have to be scared of." Syria pulled his head towards her. His cheeks were freezing, it had to be the same with her hands touching his face for him.
"Jedi you aren't afraid of anything," she said trying to comfort him.
"Are you so sure?" Syria smiled. Jedi felt her smile warm him partially, but the cold realisation of death was still in his mind.
"I know you're not, neither am I. After today I will know you will always be there to save me."
"What if I'm not with you?"
"You always look for bad things happening. Can't you think of anything good?" Jedi pulled back.
"No." He left walking back to the house. Syria watched him go, then turned back to the river. There was something troubling him. Maybe Master Chodon was right. Maybe Jedi did care for her but did not want to show it. I guess there are still things I don't know about him. I hope I could know more. Syria carried on with her walk then moved back to the house a few hours later.
The next day Jedi rose early, just before the sun came over the horizon he needed time to think. He departed for the underground garage that contained his rebuilt Imperial speeder bike he managed to persuade someone to give it to him. Before he went in he looked to the orange and red sky. The two moons were slowly sinking behind the horizon where the sun rises. The population of Sennacherib called this event in the morning 'The death of the night and birth of a new day. The death of the two moons forming the new born sun.' It was the same when night came except the words were swapped around. Jedi saw no point in calling it that. Day was day. Night was night. There was nothing special to him about it. He flipped the repulser lift controls on, the bike lifted a foot into the air. Jedi looked at the helmet that is supposed to be used to give information to the path ahead and protect his head. He picked it up. He then placed it back on the tool covered and engine strewn work bench. He saw Syria was trying to make improvements to her speeder for when they raced again.
Jedi sat on the bike and fed large amounts of fuel to the engine. He pushed on the foot pedals. The speeder tore off at great speeds.
The drone/whine of the bike's engines woke Syria. She looked out the window seeing Jedi disappear into the forest. She checked the chronometer that was on a bed side table. When she saw how early it was she dropped her head back into her pillow and went back to sleep. Jedi weaved in and out of trees. Normal people had no idea of what they ahead of him with out the crash helmet. He did not need it. He had the Force to guide him. He sensed a branch was falling up ahead. He pulled back on the handles to gain altitude. When he came to where the Force told him of the fallen branch there was nothing. No sign of any fallen tree or branch. A loud creaking and snapping noise came as a large branch dislodged from a tree trunk. It crashed through other branches and pulled them down with it. Jedi increased his speed hoping to fly under it. He was not fast enough. The tip of the branch clipped the exhaust port.
The force of the blow sent him off the bike. He landed hard on the dark soil and wood mulch ground. He rolled side ways for a while then banged his head hard on an exposed root. The speeder spun wildly out of control. It landed on its side and left a large path of upturned soil and shrubs. As it hit the ground it skipped into the air and smashed into a tree. Jedi lay motionless as the speeder bike landed with a loud crash.
Jedi quickly sat up. He looked about the forest for his speeder bike. He saw the damaged bike twenty metres away. Her check his chronometer. He had been out for an hour and a half. He got to his feet and moved to the bike. He pulled it off it's side. The steering vanes were bent out of place. He touched them to see how loose they were. The vanes snapped off as he touched them. He looked to the engine. Fuel seeped out of the delivery line. The engine had the power converter and air intake rip out of it and the pedals were gone. It was beyond repair for him.
"Trust the Force," he said to himself. Master Chodon told him and Syria that the Force would guide them, all they had to do was to trust it. He trusted the Force. "Look where it's got me." A slight touch from the Force hit him. "Syria," he said quietly. He turned back to the house and ran. He used the Force to push him faster. He grew tired but he knew he had to get back to Syria. He jumped over some low fallen stumps and bushes. He slipped in some mud coming to a dirt bank. His legs hit each other and he rolled down the bank. His face hit some mud sending a small spray of mud in the air. He lay there for a second. His ankle felt like it was throbbing. He pulled himself up. Syria needed him. He had no idea what was happening. For all he knew the Empire had taken them prisoner. He knew this was a race against time which he had an undetermined amount of time.
His lungs burned as he neared the house. He jumped over the boundary fence and into the house. He check the rooms upstairs calling for both of them. He came to Master Chodon's study. He found Syria over his dead body. She turned to him.
"Help him," she pleaded. "Use the Force." He placed his hand on the old man's chest. Nothing came. No wisp of smoke or movement from him. He tried many times. Still nothing.
"I can't." Syria burst out crying and placed her head on the old man's chest. That night Syria stayed away from him. After he admitted he could not do anything Master Chodon's body faded away. He had joined the Force. He tried to comfort her but she disappeared out the door. Watching her go he knew Syria hated him. He knew it. For the first time he wasn't able to protect her feelings. He failed her. He didn't want to do that again.