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Twice Exiled, Twice Redeemed


Tysyacha

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"It's not an attitude," Jana answered patiently. "I'm a quick learner and I know more than the average student my age. I just healed my own arm, or did you not notice that? I'm in less trouble now than I was when we left and I'll be in less still after further training."

 

She shrugged. "So now it's up to you. Are you going to be as suspicious of me as the Masters or are you going to train me further, faster?"

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"If you believe that I am suspicious about you then you are wrong." said Kyle coldly "You might be advanced; but that doesn't mean that you can think of yourself only in that way."

"You must endure modesty." began Kyle "Or you will become just like the Jedi Masters: Vicious, Disrespectful, Proud and Arrogant. You must remember this." he ended coldly.

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"Good. Now since it is obvious that you two trust each other a lot and that you have developped the bond quite well if you ask me; I suggest that we start with sharing some emotions: Calmless and Hope are the only two I think that you should try to learn to share when required. First of all, you will need to learn to communicate with each other first. Let's begin: First, close your eyes."

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Yery closed her eyes, hoping that neither Master Kelso nor Kyle Soran had

noticed Jana's reticence and reluctance to reveal anything more about the

"exchange" in regards to her wound. Instead of concentrating on this, even

though her mind so desperately wanted to do so, Yery focused upon the

lesson at hand. What would Kyle teach her and her Padawan friend now?

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Yery let herself feel intensity, feel passion, feel all of the emotions that

the Jedi Code warned against. "There is no passion, there is serenity,"

it stated. However, the young Padawan let all of that go for a moment.

 

She remembered the last time she felt such strong feelings that they

almost took control of her, forcing her hand in a desperate situation.

Before she had entered the Jedi Enclave upon Dantooine, she had

been part of a group of teenage female smugglers. The Silver

Streaks, they were called, and they were captured on that

same planet where the Jedi hid themselves from Sith vision.

 

At this time, Yery was being interrogated by one of the Jedi's

protocol droids. She had been presented with a hard bargain:

 

"At this present time, I have gathered the information that you

are not the leader of this smuggler gang. Do you agree, prisoner?"

 

"That's true," Yery replied sadly. "I am not the ringleader." She had

tried to keep her voice cold and detached, but Yery had failed miserably.

"I am merely a confidante and assistant of those who do lead the Streaks."

 

"Then perhaps you will deign to tell me the identity of said ringleader." A

pause from the droid, which Yery thought uncharacteristically human. "If

you reveal the name of the female who leads the gang, you will receive

only one year in prison. Hard labor will not be required of you. However,

if you do not, you will receive five years, and you will be put to work."

 

Yery shut her eyes, wishing, praying, hoping that this was all a bad dream.

"I cannot tell you her name," she had told the droid. "Even I only know her

pseudonym, but I cannot tell you that. I don't want her to come to harm."

 

Then the young girl had done something she knew she shouldn't have. Ever.

She stunned the protocol droid with a rudimentary form of Stun, the basis

for the true Force Power that she would eventually learn. The droid shattered

into metal fragments, and Yery turned on her Stealth Generator and slunk away.

 

That was why Vrook always doubted her. That was the true reason for her exile!

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