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Kyrath56
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re: The Unwanted Sa'mryns

(OOC comment thread here)

Kytrn had been awaiting this moment for weeks. His long exercise in patience was about to come to fruition. Even since hearing about it from one of his friends, he had been looking forward to today. Today was a special day. Today was the first day of the year that the cafeteria would be serving genuinely harvested vegetables. Sure, they served vegetables every day of the year, but today’s were special. Just because plants could be induced to grow all year long, by photoemitters and other such gadgets, does not mean that they taste good all year long. On the contrary, Kytrn had found that the plants harvested during their regular harvest season always tasted better somehow.

After loading up his tray with an impressive rainbow-colored array of vegetables, which could have given a jewelfish a run for its money, he made his way to one of the many courtyards located throughout the Temple. A keen observer might have noticed that he took strange care to avoid any of his fellow Padawans scattered about enjoying their midday meal. This was not out of any particular dislike for any of them; rather, he simply had a more important way to occupy his meal-time than “idle chatter.”

Setting his tray down on the bench beside him, Kytrn removed a datapad from his pocket and placed it on his lap. His blue eyes locked intently on the screen before him; his right hand purposefully picked up his fork and impaled a few of his leafy spoils. Pausing a moment to relish the succulent crunch of the cruciferous concoction between his molars, Kytrn pondered the subject of the report he was supposed to be reading.

Perhaps most other 13 year-old Padawans would be bored by the thought of reading “A Brief—Yet Thoroughly Informed—Essay on the Quantitative Analysis and Historical Repercussions behind the Secession on Almakar,” but not Kytrn. Well, he may have found it a tad dry (if the title was any indication of the author’s engaging writing style), if not for the fact that it had been assigned to him by his Master, the Jedi Knight Jyshru Narus. As such, Kytrn took it upon himself to diligently study the essay, with the thought that it would improve his diplomatic repertoire.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he was uncomfortably jolted back to awareness by the realization that the rather painful mouthful he had just taken consisted of nothing other than his immalleable metal fork. Regrettably, his meal was over. Stowing the datapad in one of his tunic’s many pockets, Kytrn picked up his tray and returned it to the cafeteria. Afterwards, he set off, with only a slight hesitation visible in his gait, to a training room in which he continue his practice of Form III, Soresu. After all, he wouldn’t want to disappoint his Master by skipping out on yet another thrilling opportunity to practice his saber skills.

\/\/|\<*>/|\/\/

His hands slightly sore from grasping the hilt of his still-unfamiliar training saber, Kytrn let out a slow, deep breath. But the lingering tension elicited by the stinging zap of the training droid proved difficult to dispel. That wasn’t actually too bad; maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this after all. Replacing his discomfort with more cheerful thoughts, he quickly forsook his position in the entryway of the training chamber, and eagerly started off toward his next destination. The soft thumping of his boots against the smooth ceramic floor provided a soothing rhythm as he made his way to the Mediation Gardens. Upon entering the gardens, they greeted him like an old friend. Ah. The gentle breeze whispering past his face, the calming trickle of water over stones, the earthen aroma of plants, and the ever-present hum of life lulled him into a state of relaxation. This was why he loved coming here; it was the perfect place to think, or rather, to not think.

Crossing his legs underneath him and closing his eyes, Kytrn tried to open himself up to the ever-flowing current of the Force. Some days this proved easier than others. It seemed as though today was going to be one of the latter. It felt almost as though a veil had been cast between him and the entrancing eddies of the Force. Well what do I expect? I’m only a Padawan. Trying to suppress his stray thoughts, he began to recite the familiar mantra: There is no emotion, there is peace. Yet he couldn’t shake the unmistakable feeling that there was something familiar nearby. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Something beyond the normal array of flora and fauna that always awaited him whenever he came to meditate. There is no passion, there is serenity. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death—

“You don’t recognize your own master?” boomed a loud voice. Kytrn opened his eyes to the sight of his master laughing jovially. “What’s the use in training an apprentice who’s as blind as a hawk-bat?” Jyshru bantered.

“You and I both know that Hawk-bats are not blind,” Kytrn replied playfully.

“So are you admitting that you’re blinder than a Hawk-bat?”

“Well I’m certainly more intelligent than one,” he retorted.

“And I sometimes wonder if that intelligence of yours is any good at all. You seem to have a lot on your mind today. Is everything all right? It’s not like you to fail to recognize my approach.”

“You just caught me off guard; the very moment I was beginning my meditation.”

“Then I guess I should hope your enemies don’t have as perfect timing as I do,” continued Jyshru, “otherwise I’ll soon find myself without a Padawan.” Kytrn grimaced slightly as he inclined his head to indicate that the lesson had been learned. His Master returned the gesture.

“Now I didn’t come all this way just to admonish you…” Jyshru began.

“I should hope not; your old bones can’t handle much more superfluous gallivanting about the Temple,” Kytrn interrupted with a grin.

The spry 30 year-old Mirialan’s eyes twinkled as he held up his right hand to indicate that now was a time for silence. “I came to tell you to pack your things; we’re headed to Shili. The homeworld of the Togruta located in—”

“The Ehosiq Sector of the Expansion Rim,” Kytrn announced, then quickly ducked his head sheepishly as his Master broke into a rueful smile.

“A mild situation has broken out near the capital city of Corvala, necessitating diplomatic intervention. The council proposed that this would be an easy case to handle with a fledgling diplomat, and I agreed,” Jyshru elaborated. “I hope you’ve kept up on your reading.”

With that, Jyshru left his Padawan to finish his meditation. It would be good for Kytrn to leave the temple and garner some real-world experience. Yet a part of him couldn’t help wondering if his Padawan was up to the task.

\/\/|\<*>/|\/\/


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Kyrath56
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re: The Unwanted Sa'mryns

PART TWO

Elegant and proud. These were the best words that Kytrn could find to describe the personal starship of his Master, the Blazing Destiny. The sleek hull of the Corellian Defender-Class Light Corvette was evidence of its ergonomic and efficient design. The clear-cut white and black color scheme bespoke of an austere and unwavering character. Yet the highlights of gold scattered across the Destiny’s frame hinted at the personality underneath the surface. Yes, in many ways ship and master seemed to embody each other perfectly.

“Of course we had to schedule our trip during harvest season,” Kytrn’s light-hearted complaint broke through the soft morning stillness. “I finally get one decent meal; then we’re off to the unknown.”

“Of course. When else would we be able to stock the ship’s galley with such delectable provisions?” Jyshru chuckled as his Padawan’s eyes shot open in excitement. “Now come, let’s not dally.”

The pair of Jedi, their robes the color of the sand dunes of Tatooine, boarded the ramp of the corvette hauling the last of their supplies. Kytrn had only been on board his master’s ship, or any ship for that matter, a few times before, yet everything seemed as he remembered it. The interior was every bit as tidy as the exterior might lead one to expect, which was fine with Kytrn. Better too clean than too cluttered.

Taking his master’s bags in hand, Kytrn made his way down into the lower belly of the ship and placed the luggage in the corner of the cargo hold. Not wanting to miss the takeoff, he returned to the cockpit and eased into the copilot’s chair.

“Temple Control, this is the Blazing Destiny, requesting permission to depart.”

“Copy that Blazing Destiny, permission granted. Coruscant Air Control has been informed of your departure. You have been cleared to break orbit.”

\/\/|\<*>/|\/\/

After making the jump into hyperspace, Jyshru and Kytrn met in the ship’s conference room to discuss the situation. Kytrn was slightly nervous to be facing his first real diplomatic encounter. Books and history could only teach so much. After all, simple logic implied that the same set of circumstances would likely never arise twice, giving the present its annoying habit of being unpredictable.

“It appears that a small faction of rogue Togruta have attempted to declare independence from the Galactic Republic. After amassing a fair number of disciples in the capital city of Corvala, their leader, Irkaniel Ollun, founded a settlement just outside the outskirts of the city.”

“Do we know what the logic behind their movement is? Their motivation?”

“Unfortunately that is unclear. They have rejected all attempts at communication.”

“How were their rejections made? Simply by a refusal to speak, or a message of some kind?”

“A message that all attempts to trespass on their land would be met with force.”

“Surely we must know something of Irkaniel’s motivation. He was spreading his message in the capital. There must be a few who heard his message yet didn’t join his cause. They should be able to elucidate at least part of his plan.”

“You are quite right my Padawan. However, I would rather we stick to the facts for the time being, as the eye-witness testimony has thus far proven erratic at best. I don’t want us to form any undo presuppositions.” Kytrn’s brow contracted in concentration as he pondered what his master knew that he wanted to keep secret.

“Surely you know that in cases such as these, the ‘official’ governmental testimony can be just as misleading as the eye-witnesses’. They may well have reason to distort the truth for their own gain,” Kytrn argued. “Would it not be prudent to examine all the available evidence, for in doing so we may find a connection between them?”

“Hmm, perhaps I have assigned you too many history lessons,” Jyshru smiled slightly at his Padawan’s persistence. “Very well, but take what I am about to say with a grain of salt.” He paused as Kytrn nodded his consent. “Some say that Irkaniel believes the Republic to be rife with corruption and deceit—to the point where he deems any supporter of the Republic to be unclean. They say that is why he will not allow anyone into the city they have constructed.”

“Others portray him as a schizophrenic lunatic; with a mind as incomprehensible as a ranting Jawa, yet a tongue as smooth as shimmersilk. Or perhaps you’d believe that he is a Sith Lord plotting to proclaim dominion over the planet. And these are only the most popular beliefs.”

“Well, I think it would be safe to assume that there is something remarkable about this Togruta. Something that would elicit such a strong reaction in people,” Kytrn surmised. “We should proceed with caution.”

“As always my Padawan. Yet try not to dwell on any of this when we meet Irkaniel for the first time. We diplomats must never allow our emotions or thoughts to color our first impressions,” Jyshru cautioned.

“You’re assuming that we are going to meet him. It sounds like that could be a challenge.”

“Oh I have no doubt that we will meet him. He may be able to discourage the half-hearted governmental attempts at reconciliation, but I don’t think he is prepared for the patience of a Jedi diplomat,” the Mirialan Jedi Knight grinned.

\/\/|\<*>/|\/\/

A few hours later, Kytrn and his Master were performing some light sparring in the ship’s training room. Actually, as an exercise in flexibility, it resembled a dance more so than a sparring match. As the pair allowed themselves to flow smoothly from form to form—resembling two fronds of seaweed caught in an ocean current—their lightsabers cast the walls and floors into a strange contrast.

The yellow and green reflections suddenly ceased their convoluted movements as Kytrn paused to catch his breath. With his left leg stretched behind him, his right leg bent at the knee, and his saber resting ever so slightly on the blade of his master’s, Kytrn found the rhythm of his routine disrupted yet again by another one of his ever-present thoughts.

“Do we know anything about the conditions that Irkaniel’s followers are living in? What is their level of technology?” he felt drawn to ask.

Slowing letting his emerald-colored blade slide down that of his apprentice’s, so as to force him to step back onto his left heel, Jyshru replied, “Aerial reconnaissance indicates that they are very primitive in most regards. Their city was constructed in haste from rough slabs of duracrete, and they don’t seem to possess any appreciable amount of technology. A few power generators, a scattering of shield generators, and a primitive defensive perimeter, but not much else. All in all, they would appear to be rather impoverished.”

Withdrawing from the contact, Kytrn pivoted on his right heel and brought his saber slowly arcing toward his master’s left side. “I don’t get it. Why secede from the Republic? It’s obvious that their city is going to suffer from lack of access to the planet’s network of resources.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to ask them,” Jyshru suggested, stepping back and allowing his blade to retract into the hilt. A few moments later the Blazing Destiny dropped out of hyperspace above Shili.

\/\/|\<*>/|\/\/


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Kyrath56
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re: The Unwanted Sa'mryns

PART THREE

Being a verdant planet lush with vegetation, large swathes of grassland were visible from orbit above Shili. Kytrn found the sight of the small emerald orb enveloped in layers of cumulous clouds very comforting. After receiving permission and instructions on their landing procedure from the planet authorities, Jyshru began to ease the Blazing Destiny toward the planet’s surface. As smooth as glass, the corvette slipped through the atmosphere, soon finding itself in the skies above the capital city of Corvala.

Perhaps on this world Corvala was a grand city, but it was a mere dwarf in comparison to Coruscant. Kytrn found that he liked this world better, without all the artificial monstrosities slowly choking the life from the planet.

“Why can’t the Temple be on a world like this?” Kytrn pondered rhetorically. “I’m sure then the food would taste great all year round.” Receiving no reply from his Master other than a quick glance in his direction, the young Mirialan lapsed into silence.

Soon enough, the craft’s landing gear made contact with the surface in the private hangar bay that the government had reserved for them. Jyshru began running through the post-flight landing procedure, and lowered the boarding ramp. As he did so, the port authorities hailed the ship.

Blazing Destiny, this is the Corvala spaceport control center. We kindly request that you remain aboard your ship for the time being. The Secretary of State will be along shortly to greet you in person.”

“Very well Corvala. Copy that,” Jyshru replied with a confused look on his face, though he did not allow any trace of his confusion to seep into his voice. Releasing his thumb from the comm controls, he turned and said to Kytrn, “You had better go get ready to depart. It seems as though they have something special planned for us.”

A few minutes later, Jyshru and Kytrn met near the exit to the ship. They were both garbed in vestments slightly better suited for the game of politics than the typical Jedi apparel. In the field of diplomacy, it was best to appear as professional and courteous as possible.

Lifting his arm to check his chrono, Kytrn let out an almost imperceptible sigh. He was impatient at being forced to wait onboard the ship. Since Jyshru had felt nothing ominous in the Force, they were pretty certain that nothing dangerous was approaching. Instead, Jyshru hypothesized that their long wait was due to some diplomatic or political machinations.

At last the pair of Jedi sensed a group of people approaching, so they lowered the boarding ramp and disembarked the ship. Waiting to greet them was a small entourage of Togruta dressed in what some Jedi might call flippant finery.

“Welcome to Corvala, Knight Narus and Padawan Katalaya,” the orange-skinned Togruta at the forefront of the group intoned with all the grace of a practiced politician. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Iago Khaar, Shilian Secretary of State, at your service.” With an elaborate flourish of his wrist, he gathered up his flowing cloak and bowed respectfully.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Jyshru replied as both he and Kytrn returned the gesture.

“I apologize for the delay; it was regrettably unavoidable. Allow me to escort you to my office building where I can brief you on the current status of the situation.”

Seeing that Khaar wanted to avoid uncomfortable questioning about their compulsory wait, the Jedi decided to let it slide. The followed the secretary and his herd of minions to a moderately sized shuttle clearly designed to be luxurious transport vessel. Upon boarding, Kytrn and his master quickly took their seats and turned to face their escort.

“Have there been any new developments since you sent your first transmission to the Jedi Temple?” Kytrn’s master inquired.

“Nothing of any concern. The separatists seem to be content to sequester themselves in their ramshackle little town as long as we allow them.”

“So we heard. The council was more concerned for the wellbeing of the individual separatists than any threat that they may pose to your government.”

“Yes, yes, as are we,” Khaar maneuvered. “We fear that many of our loyal citizens have been led astray by the movement’s leader, Irkaniel Ollun. We wish for their safe return; as we have only their best interests in mind.” Yes, thought Jyshru: Khaar was certainly a seasoned politician, if not a little transparent. But that was why he was only the Secretary, and not the Head of State.

Their shallow conversation continued for a few minutes longer, until the transport arrived at the governmental headquarters. Although it was nothing compared to the Senate towers on Coruscant, it was still an impressive building that inspired a sense of authority and respect. As they ascended the steps and began walking through carpeted corridors, Kytrn witnessed many Togruta going about their business. Most were clearly working, dressed in professional clothes and carrying datapads and briefcases with them.

They eventually reached the antechamber of Khaar’s office, where he directed Kytrn to take a seat. “If you will follow me Knight Narus, we can discuss the specifics of the situation in my office.” As Jyshru passed Kytrn, he gave him a look which either said ‘behave yourself and stay out of trouble,’ or ‘look around and see what you can learn.’ Kytrn wasn’t sure which.

Before he could decide on the course of action that he wished take, a rather short, blue-skinned Togruta entered the room. He approached Khaar’s secretary, who was sitting behind a burnished wooden desk, and asked to see a Jedi.

“Excuse me sir, Padawan Katalaya at your service,” Kytrn said as he stood and offered his hand to the Togruta.

“Wonderful, wonderful. A pleasure to meet you,” the newcomer clasped his hand and shook it vigorously. “Would you mind discussing an important matter with me?”

“Of course mister…” replied Kytrn, politely leaving a space for his name.

“Tisa, Tac Tisa.” At an inquiring glance from Kytrn, the secretary kindly directed the two to a small room just down the hallway. As he shut the door behind them, Kytrn looked expectantly at Tisa and waited for him to begin speaking.

“The matter of concern that I wish to share involves the separatist movement,” Tisa began softly.

“Yes?” Kytrn prodded encouragingly, giving the Togruta a small smile.

“Well, frankly, it’s a lot more serious than Khaar chooses to believe. I’m sure that he has told you that the separatists are content to stay secluded in their city. That’s a lie. They have already confronted governmental officials once, and we fear they may have a sinister plot in mind.”

“We?” Kytrn inquired.

“Me and some of my…colleagues. There is concern among us that Corvala lacks the appropriate resources to deal with this threat. Should it escalate—as we think it will—our lack of funding could prove devastating. We need Republic aid.”

“I see. Do you have any proof that the separatists harbor ill wishes against the citizens of Corvala, or that the government lacks funding?”

“Well, not exactly,” Tisa fidgeted, stroking his left lekku anxiously. “But even Khaar knows that our treasury is currently too overdrawn to be reliable, he is just too proud to ask for further Republic assistance.”

“I’ll keep your words in mind as we assess the situation,” Kytrn allowed.

“Thank you. That’s all I ask. You’ll soon see that the situation is more serious than Khaar is leading your Master to believe.” With that, the blue-skinned Togruta shook his hand and departed the room. Kytrn sunk heavily into a chair; he needed to have a conversation with his Master. The Force was telling him that there were some hidden ulterior motives at play here, yet he was unable to discern whose they were.


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