Convergence (Star Wars: The High Republic)

by Zoraida Córdova

Under different circumstances, Xiri would have marveled at the awe-inspiring view of their curious pocket of the galaxy. Her world, with its red mountains and sleek canyons, and neighboring Eiram’s turquoise seas mottled by constant storms. Locked between them were a belt of debris—remnants from years of battle that cluttered the corridor like asteroids—and the Timekeeper moon. Her own grandmother used to say that, billions of years before, E’ronoh and Eiram were two cosmic beings that emerged from stardust, and the moon was their shared heart, vital to E’ronoh’s winds and Eiram’s tides. Xiri had loved that story once. Whether in peace or war, the planets and their moon were irrevocably bound, not simply by the pull of their gravity, but by a long past and an ever-murky future. A future Xiri would dedicate her life to making right.

The Aerialwalk, which she’d seen performed by a priestess of the Singing Mountain during her last pilgrimage to Jedha City, took every bit of her concentration. Gella’s heartbeat slowed to the rhythm of her deep breaths. Every bit of her body was buoyed by the Force, a contradiction of sensations—adrift yet anchored, steady yet in motion. She was a moment and somehow infinite. She took another step, now standing completely sideways. Slowly, she extended her arms outward, keeping her palms up, and felt the first tremble in her muscles. Focus, she reminded herself. She kept her eyes trained on the marbled blue and white light from the viewport. Her travels with the Order had taken her to oceanic worlds, across mountain valleys, and into cities hovering in the clouds. But there was something about hyperspace that humbled her like nothing else. Meditating while in hyperspace was like being buried within light, within the Force itself. There, and then gone. A blink of an eye, a star, a life.

As a Padawan, Gella had done everything she was told. She leapt off a cliff and trusted the Force to stop her fall. She trained at temples across worlds. On Jedha, she learned about the wide spectrum of Force wielders and believers. She trained. For hours. Days months years. She tuned in to the very makeup of her body, meditated until she didn’t know where her physical being began and the Force ended. She’d done everything she was supposed to, but when she was called on for her most important mission as a team leader—she’d failed. “Perhaps I’m better off serving the Order on my own,” she mused. Master Sun raised his brows sympathetically. “There are many paths, and I trust, in time, you will find yours, Gella Nattai. But it seems to me that you are only scratching at the surface of what you might be capable of. You must have—” “Patience,” she finished for him. “Exactly,” he said, turning to leave the cargo hold. “You have the ability to connect in ways that are not obvious to the rest of us. We will all work in tandem.”

“Now,” Gella said, heart pounding, “General, Captain, I’m trying to help you, dammit.” “Help?” Captain A’lbaran scoffed, still flying in lockstep, trailing after the rogue pilot. “Yes, help. My name is Jedi Knight Gella Nattai.” “Jedi,” came a hiccup of surprise from one of the other pilots. It seemed no matter where she went in the galaxy, the word was voiced with the same tone of surprise. Gella focused on that, on the recognition, the weight of it. Nothing as selfish as pride but bolstered by a sense of rightness she could never truly put into words.

Mollo nodded. “Entire worlds dependent on imported food are starving. Twice now we’ve had to undertake extensive remapping to keep the hyperlanes functioning and clear of the scourge of pirates picking off the spoils of war. Enough is enough. Eiram and E’ronoh can divide their worlds, their space, delivery schedules, but they cannot divide the galaxy. It is time, for the good of the Republic, to settle this matter. And I need your help to do it.” Creighton Sun knew in his bones that there was a reason the Force kept bringing them back to the Eiram-E’ronoh system. True, Queen Adrialla had beseeched their help, but in the previous instances, they’d only been able to drop relief shipments. The Jedi couldn’t fight a war for them, but they could be a neutral party. He could feel a brush of encouragement from Master Roy.

Her master, who passed into the Force years before, had commended Gella’s intuition, her desire to devour knowledge, to question everything around her. One of Gella’s most treasured memories was of the wise old Jedi saying, “Curiosity is your strength, my Padawan. It is your next step on your Jedi path.” At times she wanted her strength to be some special ability like psychometry or healing, but then she remembered that every Jedi’s connection to the Force was as unique as the stars in the galaxy. Hers still felt distant, though bright.

Gella raised her free hand and extended it forward. She calmed her mind of the events that day—the moon, the dogfight, the long travel through hyperspace. And beyond that, hidden in the recesses of her heart, the doubt and fear that tested every Jedi. Mistakes that lingered like smoke long after a fire had been snuffed out. Choices she could not take back. All of it was set aside to fix the problem in front of her. She felt Enya’s bright aura through the Force, a heady feeling that reminded her of the first ray of sun after a storm. Together they guided the debris field away from the silver astromech rolling its way across the ship’s panels. Gella shut her eyes, slowed her breathing. There was resistance as the objects in motion fought against her. She was among them. She was weightless. She was strong enough to do this. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Oshi murmured. It was the awe in their voice that made her look. The astromech was already returning toward the air lock, task completed. When Gella and Enya let go, the metal scraps rushed back in, only pelting the deflector shield before drifting back into the space corridor. Gella smiled, truly smiled, at her fellow Jedi, then caught a movement at the corner of her eye. She shuffled closer to the viewport. Where E’ronoh’s atmosphere had been still moments before, it was shifting. White whorls of clouds ruptured like bloody cysts as six massive ships emerged into orbit. Hulking metal beasts nothing like the starfighters she’d seen...

She couldn’t forget that she wasn’t home. She wasn’t with allies or friends. She was in the world that had caused every suffering on her planet, not just for the last five years, but before that as well. She was picking up the war her grandparents had fought. It was a cycle of never-ending war and violence. War was her inheritance. War was constant, not peace. Not this Eirami hospitality.

“The Republic and the Jedi have always conspired to meddle in our system. My own parents dealt with it, and now it is my turn. I am certain, when the time comes, Phan-tu and his consort will as well.” Phan-tu blinked hard at her response. “My queen, I don’t need to remind you that they have our medical shipment, and we did ask the Jedi to get involved.” “But not the Republic,” Queen Adrialla clarified. “And I assume E’ronoh would never. Yet, they are here now and we must deal with it.” Xiri blanched. If she’d talked to her father that way, she would have felt the cool sting of his rings across her face. She and Niko had learned from a young age to choose their words carefully. In response to her son, the queen merely pursed her lips. There was even a touch of humor there. Was this for show? Was this to lull Xiri into some sort of false sense of camaraderie? “We asked for their aid. Meddling is entirely different. I do not like having the terms of a deal altered, and I do not like my hand being forced. Especially”—she looked pointedly at Xiri—“when I am told Eiram did not initiate the conflict.” Xiri had the sense to look away. Yes, it had been Blitz who sparked the chain of events that led her to this predicament. But there was something she was missing. Ships didn’t simply explode, and she was too far from home to speculate. Could she voice those concerns among the enemy? Surely not.

“There has been so much loss we both have to answer for. I do not know about you, Captain A’lbaran, but I am willing to listen. And the sooner we get you offworld, the sooner I can offer proof that you are hale and hearty and your father is a mad king.” “If you can refrain from insulting my father,” Xiri said, “I can send him a message. You or your son can review it. But I can convince him of my safety, and perhaps to come to the peace summit.” Queen Adrialla’s deep eyes assessed Xiri for far too long. It took all her training not to fidget. “Very well. If you bathe. I understand it may be hard for you to accept a kindness from me, but you are not a prisoner here. I will not return you looking as one.” “It feels indulgent,” Xiri admitted, “to waste water.” The queen stood, clearly out of patience for the E’roni royal. “If it’s any consolation, it’s mixed with salt water. But do clean up. Phan-tu will wait for you and take you to the ship when you are decent.” “I will?” he asked, then cleared his throat and turned it into a statement. “I will.” “We’ve all had to make sacrifices these last few years,” Queen Adrialla said. When she didn’t smile, she looked so very tired. It was a weariness Xiri, a girl less than half the queen’s age, shouldn’t have felt so acutely. And yet there it was. The queen of Eiram took the supporting arm her son offered and made her way out of the suite, stopping at the door. “I can see in your eyes the toll of the war. You strike us. We strike harder...

“The Office of the Frontier has informed me that Chancellor Mollo redirected his last mission to aid the Jedi Order in the Eiram-E’ronoh system, and I need eyes and ears there.” Axel’s lip curled with distaste. “I thought you trusted the Jedi. Implicitly. Don’t you remember that?” “I trust the Jedi believe themselves the defenders of this galaxy. I trust Chancellor Mollo believes in our shared mission to bring peace to the wilds of space. And I trust that my son can act as my representative while I must remain here on Coruscant.” “You want me to spy on them?” “I want you to represent me.” Kyong cast a glance at the door before she continued. “From the information I have received, Chancellor Mollo rushed our intervention in this system. We agreed to let them resolve it on their own. Knowing him, he heard the Jedi were on their way, and he saw the opportunity to try again to bring about peace negotiations.” Axel licked his canine. “Mollo loves a lost cause.” “It’s more than that,” she stressed. “We rule the Republic together. Eiram and E’ronoh are not the Republic. He thinks if he can bring them peace, he will change that, and then others will follow.” “Isn’t peace part of your campaign promise? Double the chancellors, double the result.” Realization dawned on him. “Unless, of course, he succeeds on his own.” “He should have told me first,” she snapped. “That is how this is supposed to work. Together.” He only half believed her. “That and elections are never far away,” he mu...

Axel began to walk out of Chancellor Greylark’s office, but he lingered at the threshold, almost hesitating. She needed to hear it again. “You’re wrong,” he said, his back still turned. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Father. I said things that can’t be unspoken. Know that I am different, Mother. Perhaps not the son you imagined I’d be, but the son you have.” Axel had never seen his mother cry, not once in his life. Not in front of him, at least. But as he turned over his shoulder, he saw her eyes turn glassy with unshed tears. He let them both retain their dignity and walked on, lowering his voice for a final admission. “I do not blame you. Not anymore.” He blamed the Jedi.

He could hardly eat or sleep the night before, constantly checking the status of E’ronoh’s drill ships parked in orbit. The Paxion and the Valiant Longbeams were the only thing standing between them and Eiram. He would not, could not, admit that perhaps Chancellor Greylark had been somewhat correct in saying this system was not ready to see the light of the Republic. But Chancellor Greylark was not here. They had been elected and reelected together. He admired her strength and knew that she would always put the galaxy first. But she had been born and raised among Coruscant’s elite. She could never quite understand what it meant to him, a Quarren who’d lived through the tumult of war like the ones that plagued these worlds, to be the one to bring about peace. Kyong didn’t know the Outer Rim the way he did. She didn’t know the complex histories, the vast worlds, the vivid cultures. She only saw the promise of it all. He would prove that he was capable of doing more for their shared cause, because in the end their shared cause trumped everything else. A united galaxy. In that, he was certain he could trust her. He only hoped she felt the same.

The viceroy grimaced as he faced the chancellor. “Favoritism already?” Chancellor Mollo did not step into the viceroy’s verbal trap, though he did run his fingers through his tentacles. “I assure you, Eiram’s delegation has already complied.” “I am not talking about Eiram, I talk of the Jedi.” The viceroy split the last word into two long syllables. “As I understand it,” Captain A’lbaran said, “they are more than weapons.” “Right you are, Captain,” Master Roy explained, his soothing voice easing the tension in the room. “For Jedi, lightsabers are extensions of us and our connection to the Force.” “And yet still a sword,” the viceroy countered. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he smirked the entire time. “We would feel safer if the Jedi kept their trinkets,” Queen Adrialla said coolly. Gella frowned at the word trinket. Masters Sun and Roy were often sent by the Order to negotiate in distant worlds, but this wasn’t what she’d expected. This was letting all parties sink verbal teeth until they drew blood. If she remained with their team, would she learn how to navigate these waters?

“As representatives of the Jedi Order and the Republic, we believe that together we can arrive at a lasting, peaceful resolution for generations to come.” “Thank you, Master Roy, for those placating words,” Queen Adrialla said. “For once we are in agreement, Adrialla,” the Monarch said, clicking the heel of his cane on the floor. “You come here from your distant worlds and think you can tell us how to live. Who made you the keepers of the galaxy?” Master Roy did not balk at the questions. He spoke with a calm grace, his long fingers moving to the cadence of his voice. It reminded Gella of the precise meditative movements of the Guardians of the Whills. “The Jedi Order goes where people need us the most. When Eiram called upon us, we were there. Had E’ronoh ever called upon us, we would have done the same. After the regrettable accident in the space corridor, we felt a duty to remain. We are here now, not to tell you how to live, but to give those beings on the ground, the beings on your planets, an opportunity. Not just to survive.” The Cerean paused. Faced every being present. Let the silence hang with meaning as his gaze burned with intent. “An opportunity to plan for a real future. Here and now, you choose life and prosperity over annihilation. I truly believe that is why you are in this room today.”

“If it isn’t magic, then what is it?” the princess asked. “The Force is everything. The seas of Eiram. The canyons of E’ronoh. It is the current within me and you, and everything in between. The energy that makes life flow.” Gella went on the offensive, and pushed Xiri forward, slapping her batons against the staff in a steady rhythm that carried them across the entire floor, until the princess stumbled off the mat and fell on her backside. “And the one thing I am always certain of is that the Force is with me.” She held out a hand to help the princess stand, and Xiri took it amiably. “I’ve never heard it explained that way before,” Xiri said, her amber gaze turning to Phan-tu.

Xiri leaned on the arm of the chair and narrowed her eyes. “I’m curious, Jedi. Is this what you do all the time? Go here and there saving worlds with your light swords?” “Lightsabers. And they are for defense first. We go where we are called,” Gella said, remembering Master Sun’s words. “I’m still learning my way.” “Don’t you miss your home?” Gella blinked at the question. “The concept of home is not the same for me as it is for you.” “I suppose your temple is your home.” “Yes, though sometimes we’re assigned to different temples on different systems, and sometimes, like now, we live aboard a ship.” “Strange,” Captain A’lbaran said wistfully, “you fight to save so many homes for so many beings, yet you have none of your own.” “It’s not as simple for Jedi.” Gella turned to the flickering landscapes on the far wall. If she thought about the enormity of the galaxy for too long, how she would never see all of it, she’d get too lost in her own thoughts. “I’ve never actually thought of it that way. The galaxy is my home, then.” “Hm,” Xiri mused. “That sounds like a lot of upkeep.” “Upkeep does not do such a thing justice, I think.” A warm sensation spread from Gella’s chest. Certainty. Every Jedi, whether in the temples, on Pathfinder teams, or serving as Wayseekers, had a shared goal—peace and justice in the galaxy. “It is my calling.”

The Monarch’s shuttle led the return to E’ronoh. Trailed by the Paxion, the Valiant, and Eiram’s own royal vessel, it was a sight every being stepped into the dusty streets and canyons to behold. What they couldn’t see were the bodies in the morgue. A chancellor holding on to the threads of hope. The Jedi searching for the shadows of disruption. A man scratching the surface of the chaos in his heart, and a Jedi Knight seeking out her path. Two heirs walking toward each other, toward their future, by clasping the tender seeds of peace, vowing that nothing and no one would stand in their way, because this—this is how peace holds on.

Abda took a curving market street and ducked into a narrow alley, avoiding a small group of Path members who shouted against the winds, “Look no further for the root of your suffering! It is the Jedi! The Jedi misuse the Force, and the Force must be free!” Once, Abda had been among them, taking their teachings wherever the elders sent her. Now she almost felt sorry for them, because they may be part of the Path, but they were not chosen by the Mother, as she had been. They were not special.

“It isn’t quite the same. Many beings have myths about the Force—where it came from and how to interpret or even wield it. The Jedi have stories that have fallen into legend of a dark age. But I suppose my master, Arezi Mar, told me a cautionary tale that her master told her, who had been told by her own master, and so on. It was about a Jedi who wished to see the entirety of the galaxy in his lifetime. He sought out an oracle and was told that all he had to do was walk along the seam of the galaxy until he reached the end.” “But that’s impossible,” Phan-tu said. “Precisely.” Gella smiled wryly. “The Jedi Knight spent years, a life span, walking and walking.” “Did he find it?” Xiri asked. “The end of it, I mean?” “No. Along the way, he felt the call of voices crying out to him. Worlds that needed him. And so, he left the path of stars, and returned to fulfill his duty to guard the galaxy.”

Gella attempted to regain her focus, then thought perhaps the best way to do it was to replay those moments in a mental loop. To relive it, to see every moment as it unfolded. And then to let it go.

Gella still crackled with energy, though it was beginning to fade. She hadn’t needed to call on the Force with such fervor before. Her body ran so hot, the cold desert air felt like a gift. “That was impressive,” Axel commented, keeping pace at her side. “Thank you.” “I clearly mean me.” She grumbled but found a strange comfort in his levity.

As she watched over the burning ruins of the basin, she wondered if war only came because her family willed it. Would her brother have made the same decision she had? Would her father have found another reason to take up arms? But that night was not the time for guilt. It was a night for courage. With the help of Gella and Axel, they’d lined up the dead bodies of the soldiers from both E’ronoh and Eiram and built a pyre. Only flame could burn the things these stranded soldiers endured. Pinned down in a cave, without food or water, cut off from home, fighting a war they didn’t even know might be over. Xiri had seen terrible things over the last five years, but she had never seen this.

Axel Greylark wanted to get out of the Badlands as soon as possible. He told himself that was why he helped rearrange the cargo to make a temporary brig and not because he’d hated the look on Gella’s face when he’d shot and killed the Eirami soldiers about to attack them. He didn’t need to be judged by a Jedi, and he didn’t need his actions questioned, especially when he had saved her life.

“I want to know why you’re so antagonistic toward Jedi,” she said, the last word soaked in the same derision he normally used. He knew the longer he spent on this mission with her, the more it might come up. Everything that had to do with the events of his father’s passing threatened to rise to the surface. But he couldn’t do it, not in this state. “I will. I promise,” he said. “But not tonight. I have a million useless facts stored up for moments such as these.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. She likely thought he was being literal. “Why don’t you tell me what you meant when you said, It’s happening again.” She broke their eye contact. “Not tonight.” Why was he even entertaining her? He was exhausted. He was beginning to regret ever agreeing to return to the Outer Rim. Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his damp hair and changed the subject. “Do you believe in this mission, Gella? That the heirs will make it?” “Those are odd questions.” She rubbed the side of her neck. She’d fought like hell tonight. He could admit that. “It matters that Xiri and Phan-tu believe in it.” Axel shook his head. “I could never do it. Marry under such pressure.” “Well, you are all very different,” she said. “They are selfless.” “And I am selfish,” he stated with a grin on his lips. She glanced down at her canteen as if that was proof. He chuckled low. It was a good reminder of how matter-of-fact Jedi were with their words. “Good night, Jedi Nattai,” he said wearily. He had no energy for ...

It must sound silly to a Jedi Knight.” Xiri drummed her fingers against her teacup. “You’re not afraid of anything.” The sincerity of the words made Gella smile. “We have this Jedi Master. He teaches us as younglings. Yoda’s his name. One of my earliest recollections was being afraid of the training spheres.” “What are those?” Gella held up a round fruit roughly the right shape. “Imagine if this shot lasers.” “At children?” Laughing, Gella explained, “They tickle, as do our training lightsabers. But I didn’t know that. I was always quiet, wandering around the temple halls and trying to find hidden passages or secret tombs. But when it came to practice, I was the first one there. I thought I’d be a natural, but that first day, when I saw that sphere covered in what looked like mechanical eyes, I ran out of the room.” “Poor little Gella,” Xiri said sympathetically. “Did they yell at you?” Gella blinked at the suggestion. “Not at all. Master Yoda found me. He just sat with me in the garden and we watched this one frog try to leap over a stone wall into a waterfall. It kept missing. Miscalculating. Falling. Getting back up. Then he said, Like that frog, you must be.” “Did you get it eventually?” “The next day I got hit right here.” Gella tapped her nose. “Eventually, though. So, yes, much of what Jedi do is confront fear, feel it, conquer it. Accept that it is a part of me like anything else.” “What happens if you can’t?” Xiri asked. When a beam of light broke through the clou...

Luck, the Force, Krel. Perhaps it was all the same thing, in some ways.

“Why did you stay?” Gella asked curiously. “You might not understand. You Jedi are not rooted to anything. You’re warriors always going here and there. I’ve now had the pleasure of meeting two Jedi in my life. But it is not so easy to pick up and go.” Another puff of humid air made her voice phlegmier. Gella waited patiently for the Mon Cala to continue. “When I left Mon Cala because of our own civil war, I thought the farther I went, the better I could escape it. But here, there, I cannot escape it. All I can do is root myself like coral trees and live through it because the only other choice is not living.” Gella considered the marshal’s words. “Home is not so simple for a Jedi, but we are not an army of warriors. We’re guardians. We fight when we are called to, when we must defend the lives of others.” “Fighting for peace is like coming to the desert for rain,” said a human woman sliding into the seat beside the marshal. “You will wait forever.”

“In order to save me, save all of us, and get back to the ship, the Jedi Knight had to drag me with her abilities.” Axel cleared his throat, and Gella sensed that armor of his going back up. How much effort did he spend doing that every single day? “Then once again when I tried to turn the ship around. After that, I passed out from exhaustion. When I woke up, she told me it was the will of the Force. And then she just walked away and discussed a cargo manifest like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t made me leave my father behind to die.” Was that why he’d asked, Why didn’t you fight me for the parachute? Had he thought she would have left him behind? Gella wanted to comfort him, but the words she would have said were the ones he hated. It was the will of the Force, the way it was the will of the Force that they would find each other sitting there together. Instead she placed her hand on top of his. He stared at it like he couldn’t make sense of the gesture. Like he was expecting her to be defensive, not this. “I have perspective now,” he said. “You know, I saw that Jedi Knight again. She didn’t even remember me. Why would she? What is one grieving boy in a galaxy full of them?” “Everything,” Gella found herself saying.

“Get rid of Abda. She’s become a loose end. Let these planets choose their peace, for as long as it will last them. While the Jedi are preoccupied, find that poison, and come home.” “What are you going to use it for?” he asked. He’d never truly questioned her before, but she did not let her smile falter. “I’m going to use it for us. For the safety of the Path.” But she knew he was not exactly like her Children. He did not need the comfort or assurance that the Force would be freed. Perhaps that was why she added, “And so that I can finalize the Gaze Electric without being vulnerable to those who seek to hurt me. Hurt us. Can I count on you?”

Axel interrupted, “I’m not a member of the Path.” “Of course. But the Mother never forgets her Children,” Binnot said, taking Axel’s drink and knocking it back. “She wants you to come home.” But Dalna wasn’t his home. When he’d been at his lowest, it might have been, but no more. Axel Greylark was not a member of the Path of the Open Hand. Even the thought that he’d ever uttered the words “the Force will be free” made him grimace. The only freedom he cared about was his own. How could he ever achieve that if his entire life was bound to who he was. His very name. Greylark. Once, the Mother had taught him to not simply channel his chaos but to embrace it as a good little soldier. She’d seen his potential since the moment Ney Madiine sent him to the Path to deliver ship parts for the skeletal frame of what would be the Gaze Electric. Back then, on Dalna, it seemed he’d found the one corner of the galaxy that did not worship the Jedi Knights. That’s why he’d first lingered. But the Mother was why he’d stayed. She reminded him that his pain, that bruise in his heart, was the only reminder that he had survived while his father had died. He needed to press down on it, to remember. When he began to forget, to return to the Axel Greylark that Chancellor Kyong wanted him to be. When he closed his eyes, and he couldn’t conjure his father’s face from memory. When he couldn’t breathe, when he began to settle like dust. He pressed down on that bruise, and he learned to need the pain it...

“Even now, delegations are flying across the galaxy for our wedding. To prove that we are stronger together. But what happens when other enemies appear? Rev Ferrol is still in hiding, trying to start a civil war. His father will be executed for his crimes. What happens when—if—the Republic one day decides they don’t want to be our ally? What happens when we can’t get help?” “The Republic and the Jedi Order are our allies,” Phan-tu said. “But will they be in ten years? Thirty?” the queen asked.

“Gella.” “Axel.” “Do you think…that if you weren’t a Jedi and I wasn’t, well, whoever I am, that perhaps you and I could be real friends?” Gella stepped back as the music crested and couples spun. She thought on his words, on the sincerity that dug at feelings she couldn’t name. “If I were not a Jedi, then I would not be who I am. I have dedicated my life to my vow. I—I can’t separate that person.” “Oh, my Jedi Knight, I know.” He brushed an errant strand of hair away. “You know, the Eirami have another superstition. That they live many lives. Perhaps in the next life.” She wanted to say that this was the only life she’d get before becoming one with the Force. Axel took her hand, and placed a soft kiss on the top of it. They remained there for a moment, his thumb on the pulse of her wrist.

Master Sun centered himself. He stood, raising his lightsaber and opened his connection to the Force. It was the place where he found strength, where he knew he belonged. He added that strength to his fellow Jedi. They were a linked chain, the might of the Jedi a wall united as one upon which the bounty hunters beat their fists and fired arrows and bolts. And the Jedi would hold together.

“If we don’t live through this…” he began. “We will live through this,” she corrected but trailed off. There could be no after for them. When they lived through this, he would be in prison and she would face the Jedi Council. “If we don’t live through this,” Axel said, “I hope my ghost haunts yours for eternity.” “We don’t believe in ghosts.” “Leave it to me,” he said, “to fall for a humorless Jedi.” She didn’t want to hear those words. Not from him. As Axel slumped to the floor, unconscious, Gella shut her eyes and did her best to clear her mind, to find the strength through the Force. I have every bit of faith in you, he’d said to her before he shoved her into that pit. Gella Nattai trusted in the Force, in herself. She always landed on solid ground, and this time could be no different. Slowly, it worked. The weight loosened with every piece being moved through the Force. “The Force is with me,” she whispered, imagining every piece of wreckage that was trying to bury them alive. “And I am one with the Force.” She spoke the words, again and again until she and Axel lay atop a heap of rubble. The waves were so high, she could feel the spray of surf. The Paxion was gone, but a cluster of Eirami starfighters returned to the city, circling overhead. She was certain Xiri was leading the charge. Pushing herself, Gella sat up. “Don’t go. Stay,” Axel said, blinking awake. He rubbed at the scar over his heart. “I can’t,” she said, and yet she lingered. Gella brushed his hair back....