Chapter 16

The stark white walls of the Temple’s Combat Training Centre have been recently cleaned, just as the new mats had been laid down in anticipation of the annual Jedi Apprentice Tournament. The apprentices in question were lined up against the wall in their best tunics, freshly washed and presentable, yet nervously glancing up at the growing number of Jedi Knights and Master on the mezzanines.

The point of the day’s rounds wasn’t to win, but to simply catch the attention of a potential master. But they were children, and winning was the only thing on their minds.

After all, Scout thought faintly, we’re the chaff. Most Padawans were chosen immediately after the Initiate Trials, which served much the same purpose as the Apprentice Tournaments. Those who didn’t were called drifters; purposeless apprentices who wander around the Jedi Temple until they’re picked up by a master. There was also the Service Corps-or Force-forbid, leaving-but the vast majority held out on hope.

Hope until the next Tournament, which represented their greatest chance to get chosen.

Which was ironic, because Scout had been one of those lucky enough to be adopted by a Jedi Master after her Trials. To this day, Scout didn’t know what Master Chankar Kim saw in her-a sentiment doubtlessly echoed by everybody in the Jedi Temple. The simple fact was, the Force was weak in Scout.

Too weak. Some days she could pull a glass off a counter with her mind and bring it to her hand… but more often it would slip on the way and smash into the floor. Or explode into a shower of milk and splinters as if squeezed.

But it was there. Just enough to be noticed by a Jedi Seeker when she was a toddler. Her family, as it was said, was dirt-poor, and her parents had begged the Seeker to take her away from their life of abject poverty. To this day, Scout has been haunted by the idea that her mother and father-and siblings, if she had them-are still trapped in the slums of Vorzyd V, while she alone escaped.

She alone had the chance to make their sacrifice worth something. Scout wouldn’t know what she’d do if she failed. You didn’t have to be a Pau’an to catch the way the Jedi Masters talked together in low voices when she went by. Nor did you have to be Togrutan to notice how the other apprentices rolled their eyes at her, or laughed.

When Master Chankar picked her up, she thought she had finally made it.

Three months later, Scout read Master Chankar’s name on a casualty report. Geonosis, it said. Master Windu led Master Chankar-and all the rest-to their deaths on some Force-forsaken planet in the Outer Rim.

The orphaned Padawan wanted to rage at it all. If her whole life hadn’t been one massive cosmic joke from the very start, she would’ve broken right then and there. It was sheer will-sheer, bloodyminded un-Jedi-like rage against the Separatists, against the Jedi Order, against the Force, and against herself-that kept her fighting against the destiny fate had in store for her.

Because now Scout was an orphaned, ageing Padawan with no discernable skill with the Force. And the only person who ever saw anything in her had bled her life out on alien dirt, and now nobody will ever know what they had seen.

Scout was out of chances, and everybody knew it. This tournament will make or break her-and breaking meant pretending a hoe equivalent to a lightsaber, and that ploughing the mud of a crop field was the same as exploring the galaxy. And Scout wasn’t about to break yet. She narrowed her eyes.

“Hey, Scout!” Scout whipped around like a tightly wound top, “-Woah! Relax!”

It was the Ahsoka, a personable Togruta in the same age bracket as her

“Relax, Scout!” Ahsoka repeated cheerily, “I know you got this!”

Easy for you to say, Scout thought ungraciously. Ahsoka was witty, well-liked, and more than deft with the Force. She was Togruta too, and her hunter’s instinct, eyesight, and reflexes let her trounce everyone easily in the sparring matches. Jedi Masters had been lining up for the right to choose her as their Padawan as soon as she passed her trials. And guess what, now she’s got the Obi-Wan Kenobi.

If Scout didn’t know her friend any better, she would think Ahsoka had come down here to mock her. But no, the Togruta was just too good-natured for her own good.

“Thanks,” she forced out.

“Hey, don’t worry!” Ahsoka continued, “You’re really good at combat, almost as good as me! Just relax and use the- just trust your skills!”

If Scout’s smile had been any tighter, it would be a razor-thin line drawn across her face. Ahsoka laughed awkwardly, before suddenly grabbing her shoulder and pointing up to a spot on the overlook.

“Look there,” she whispered confidentially, “That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker! Doesn’t that mean Skywalker’s looking for a Padawan? If you win this, we could go on missions together!”

Oh yeah, Ahsoka’s really digging it in now. Thanks Ahsoka.

Still, Scout paid her friend’s wishful thinking some heed. She stared up at the Hero With No Fear. He must have it easy, being the Chosen One. He could join the Jedi Order thrice the age of the rest and immediately shoot up to Jedi Knight without any effort. But that’s what you can do when you’re the Chosen One. She had read all the accounts of his daring deeds, which all might as well have been written by love-smitten journalists. It made her want to spit.

I don’t think he’ll want a Force-less nobody as his Padawan.

Suddenly, his eyes tracked down her stare and met it. It felt as if the room’s temperature had dropped to freezing, and Scout hastily diverted her gaze. Was that his Force presence? Scary.

“Yeah… I’d like that,” Scout lied.

The Apprentice Tournament advanced via sudden death, which meant that once you lost, you were done. This was absolutely perfect for Scout. She was among those who had advocated for a single-elimination format, arguing that in the real world no enemy would offer a best of three.

Or more accurately, Scout herself wasn’t willing to offer a best of three. Because Scout was a skilled fencer the same way a Krish duelist was a skilled fencer; with dexterity, strength, stamina, and nothing about the Force. She didn’t have the luxury of that cheat, which meant that any prolonged engagement would leave her at a disadvantage. Her opponent will always have more options.

Scout had to make her rounds short and swift, and that usually meant using trickery. And trickery only works once. Ergo, the fewer matches she had to fight, the greater her chances were of winning overall.

The first matches began, starting with a Cerean girl named Ami-Kat-Ayama and Farls, a Theelin boy with mottled skin. Scout’s mind settled into a calculating state, ignoring the anxiety threatening to burst out of her gut. She had to do this right. Farls was one of their best martial artists, swift on his feet and as wily as a Dxunian stalker. Ami-Kat-Ayama, however, wielded a double-bladed saberstaff that made her fighting style unorthodox and frankly terrifying.

For good reason. The training lightsabers they used were powered down to their lowest settings, but that didn’t mean they were painless. A single touch was like branding your skin with red iron-it made your muscles scream and nerves jumble into frays, leaving behind a vibrantly bloody welt that can take a week to heal. Unbearably painful.

Scout knew this better than any initiate in the hall, because she had made a habit of zapping herself with her lightsaber a few times every day in preparation for this tournament. The reason was simple. The matches were open combat, and would only end when one yielded or took three hits from a lightsaber. The pain of getting struck however, meant that you weren’t going to last very long after taking your first hit. Because pain was distracting, and Scout was determined not to let that pain ruin her chances of winning. She couldn’t afford to lose.

In any case, Ami-Kat-Ayama wasn’t a very calculating fighter. Like most apprentices, she tended to trust her own strength and the Force, rather than make the kind of preliminary observations that earned Scout her nickname. Ami-Kat’s could afford not to-as could all the others-but Scout didn’t have the same luxury. She simply wasn’t intuned enough to let the Force do her homework for her.

Scout had taken to observing every potential opponent in the weeks leading up to this moment, learning their styles. Even if she wasn’t confident, at least she was prepared.

Which is why she knew that so long as Farls keeps up the blindingly furious pace he’s known for, and stays out of Ami-Kat’s saberstaff range, he will emerge victorious in the end.

She was proven right less than ten minutes later, with the Cerean strewn across the padded floor and nursing a scorching burn on her stomach. Ami-Kat only had to slip once for Farls to sneak in a strike, and the Cerean all but fell apart under his offensive. Scout recorded the bout in her mind, and steeled herself to fight the Theelin boy later.

First, she had to win her match. Scout was against a human boy named Eda’Ni, and even she had to feel somewhat sorry for him. He was on the smaller side, and though Scout wasn’t a very large girl herself, her advanced age meant she towered over him by a head.

Following the ritual, she bowed and presented her lightsaber to the old Master Sinube, the year’s tournament overseer. He checked her saber settings, before nodding-Scout could almost hear his neck creaking as he did so. After Eda’Ni did the same, they were finally arranged opposite each other.

Scout slowed her breathing, drowning out the clamour of the audience. Eda’Ni’s eyes were large and bright, actively poking holes in her stance. He was at a disadvantage, and both of them knew it.

Master Sinube’s cane struck the floor-and Scout surged forward with the speed of a sandscorpion, her ice-blue lightsaber bursting to life and striking down on Eda’Ni’s head in a vicious arc. The boy caught her overhead just in time, sweat gathering on his brow as he struggled against Scout’s greater strength.

Scout then relaxed without warning, and Eda’Ni shot upwards-leaving his abdomen open. She pivoted on a foot and punished him with a powerful side kick that sent the smaller boy reeling backwards, gasping for breath. Scout pressed the offensive, spinning around to reorient her legs before lunging into a flying flèche.

Eda’Ni had barely presented his lightsaber again before she knocked it out of the way and jabbed her’s straight into his sternum. The boy yelped in pain-a black bruise already apparent through his charred tunic-and backtracked hastily. Scout caught herself with a heavy footfall, before taking off once more, striking twice again into his chest-and it was over.

Scout blinked, suddenly realising they were at the edge of the arena, with the boy nearly backed up against the wall.

Master Sinube’s cane struck the floor again, “Match.”

Scout’s lightsaber deactivated, and she offered the boy a hand, “Sorry about that. Maybe next time?”

Eda’Ni accepted it begrudgingly, “Yeah. Hopefully next time you won’t be here.”

Scout untensed herself, smiling apologetically. The audience was silent-her style just now was un-Jedi-like, she knew. That kind of aggression was rarely taught, and almost never seen, in the Temple. The match must’ve taken no longer than a minute, she thought. Eda’Ni never stood a chance.

She glanced up at the mezzanine, catching gazes of disapproval and recognition in equal measure. There was some clapping, which she took as a win. Scout still felt sorry for her opponent, but he would have another chance next year. She wouldn’t.

Her next match was, expectedly, against Farls. If the Theelin boy gets into his flow, it’s already over for Scout. Realistically, Farls was much more talented as a fighter, but Scout had the upper edge in speed and strength. If this was a straight match, Scout could see herself win, but when the Force was added to the equation… she wasn’t confident about her chances.

“That was ill of you,” was the first thing Farls told her, “You will find that an opponent your own size a much harder fight.”

Scout narrowed her eyes, “Try me.”

Then, Master Sinube pulled the rug out from under them. The entire room snapped the pitch black darkness, and the twinkling spots of night vision lenses on the upper floors were the only sources of light left.

“Many apprentices insist the tournament ought to reflect the real world,” Master Sinube’s voice was resounding, “In the real world, optimal conditions are rare and fleeting. Often, you must fight in the dark.”

His cane struck the floor.

Both she and Farls kept their lightsabers silent, knowing whoever ignited first would give themselves away. Scout remained still as a tree, eyes wide as saucers and hairs rising on her arms. Everything was amplified; she strained to hear every creak and whisper; the audience breathing, the rustling of cloths and tunics… and the soft thumping of footsteps.

One might think the playing field was now decisively tilted against her, but it was much the opposite. Scout had one major advantage; for all of her pathetic talent in the physical side of the Force, she did have a gift for foresight. Or as the Masters called it; precognition. When she sparred, Scout would have micro-visions, and would know what her opponents were going to do next before they knew it themselves.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Her tendency to read a situation just a bit faster than everybody else is what originally earned her the nickname Scout.

Come at me Farls, she thought, I don’t need my eyes to see you. Seems like the living stars are finally looking out for me.

An electric spark in her mind-and Scout sidestepped just as a cerulean blaze consumed the space she was once standing in. Farls likes to strike from below like a snake. Scout jabbed downwards at the same time, her blade lashing out and retreating like the tongue of the lizard.

The room plunged into darkness again. For several minutes, they both duelled in a dance of footwork, not sabers. Orienting, shifting, and reorienting in the gloom. Every so often, their lightsabers would ignite and shut off like fleeting candlesticks, daring each other to make their move.

His next move won’t be with his saber.

Farls’ was a martial artist, and used his body as much as his lightsaber. Scout has observed him long enough to know what he was going to do, all she needed was for the Force to tell her where he will come from.

… Now!

Scout hopped as her opponent tried to sweep her legs out, her lightsaber blazing to life and slashing downwards. Thwack-an audible wince of pain, and the presence retreated. Farls came again, this time his lightsaber pierced upwards at her neck. Scout backpedalled too late, and his lightsaber blazed straight through her tunic, searing into her midriff as if it was a steak.

She batted the thrust aside, holding in a terrific scream, lightsabers clashing in a flurry of sparks. Slash, slash, parry, feint-jab-parry, slash… ! Only Scout’s nifty Force talent saved her from a face full of Theelin fist. She grabbed Farl’s outstretched arm and tugged him off his feet, grappling the smaller boy and throwing him to the floor, using her ruined side to pin him down.

He tried to sweep her legs out again-coming precariously close as her knees weren’t able to lock in time-as Scout brought her saber to bear and ignited it twice, striking him both times, right before falling on top of him.

Clang! The lights flickered back on.

“Match,” Master Sinube announced in his slow, measured way.

“Hey!” a complaint gurgled out of Farls’ gasping lips, “That wasn’t fair! She can’t do that!”

Scout rolled off to the side, leaving the two apprentices beside each other.

“Can’t do what?” she wheezed, just as tired.

“Turn your lightsaber on and off!”

“On the contrary, young one,” Master Sinube’s beaked face loomed over them, “That was an impressive display of Tràkata, my dear. Some may find it dishonourable, but is that an issue when it wins you a fight? There are no rules against it, and the match goes to Scout.”

Tràkata, was that what it was called? Scout had never heard of it, and from the excitable muttering from the other initiates, neither had any of them. In honesty, jabbing in quick succession by toggling her saber just seemed intuitive. She snuck a glance above, and saw several Masters looking at her in interest. Even Master Yoda!

It was silent as she picked herself up, but then someone started clapping. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi, with an enigmatic smile on his face. Soon, the applause grew, and she spotted Ahsoka enthusiastically cheering her on from beside her master. Scout looked down, flushing, remembering to pick up the groaning Theelin and drag him to the side, where they were then swarmed by the other apprentices.

The next two rounds passed by smoothly; first against Mill Alibeth, Zabrak girl who, unlike the rest of her species, was way too mellow and almost afraid of her own blade. Next was against Klossi Anno, an older Chalactan girl who Scout drew into a conversation and struck in surprise.

The final match saw her pitted against Teo Gronn, and this time it seemed like the audience had doubled in size. Honestly, she had half-foreseen Teo Gronn being a finalist, but the prospect still terrified her even as she stared him in the eye.

The reason? Teo was an older Duros boy, in the same age bracket as her. Both of them were orphaned Padawans seeking a new master, and both their previous masters had fallen on Geonosis. It was far too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, and she had a feeling that the twinkle of mischief in Master Sinube’s eye had something to do with it.

Except, Master Chankar died before taking Scout on a mission, while Teo already has several under his belt. The Duros was taller, stronger, and far more experienced than her.

Master Sinube’s cane struck the ground, signalling the start of their fight. Teo’s lightsaber burst out in a brilliant green blade, his bleeding red eyes tracking her silently. Stang.

“Mind giving me the win?” Scout tried as she ignited her own blue blade.

“I heard quite a bit about you,” Teo exchanged, cutting a little flourish with his saber.

“Good things, I hope.”

“I saw your match with Farls.”

“So not very good things,” she replied, “You know, you’ve already been on missions. Can’t you let me have some?”