Jedi training - A record of progress

Fiach Dubh

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“Energy constantly flows through the crystal. You're not fighting with a simple blade as much as you are directing a current of power. Your thoughts, your actions, they become energy. They flow through the crystal as well and become a part of the blade.”

― Kanan Jarrus, to Sabine Wren



JEDI TRAINING GROUNDS

She’d come across the technique in a footnote to a document that discussed the construction of a lightsaber. The instructions were sketchy but using deductive reasoning, Fiach pieced together a variance of what was no doubt intended and what she saw as useful. What resulted were a series of cadences… a series of lightsaber training techniques that involved manipulating durasteel ball-bearings atop wax candles.

In each of the cadences, the primary practice would be to stand in a circle of candles with the ball bearings and attempt to strike the ball bearings without hitting the candles. As you proceed through each of the cadences, the number of candles would be incrementally increased until the fifth, where you will have achieved such a level that the candles would be unnecessary – as you would simply know when you have performed the sequence correctly.
 

Fiach Dubh

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First Cadence

The first was – it seemed to Fiach, the most challenging. Her Master had begun her teachings well, and she now firmly trusted in the concept of belief when it came to the Force. ‘If you believe you can’t, then you’re correct’ was a mantra she’d drummed into her sub-conscious.

The cadence called for nineteen candles spaced at ten-degree intervals in a semi-circle in front of her, with a ball-bearing perched on top of each one. She would then be required to strike each ball bearing, attempting to avoid striking the candles below, developing the ability to do so and honing her sensory awareness and body control. This exercise required 190 ball-bearings (for ten repetitions) and would not be considered complete until all ball-bearings were removed without a single candle being touched.

It was a good thing Fiach was the patient kind, as it took a full three months of daily repetition to enable her to complete the first cadence. Part of her was proud of her accomplishment – but was mindful of the Code and accepted it was primarily down to practice. Practice and belief.
 

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Second Cadence

The second cadence was, she anticipated, to be less of a challenge, given how she’d finally mastered the first.

It was a false expectation.

The second cadence used seventy-two candles set at five-degree intervals in a full circle around her. Like the first, the goal was to strike each ball bearing without contacting the candles. However, she had to do so without turning to face each candle, further honing her body control and spatial awareness. 2160 ball-bearings were required for the exercise repeats, and the cadence would take approximately two hours to complete – once mastered.

To ensure she kept her confidence up, and to make sure she did not lose the technique, Fiach repeated the first cadence every third day – ahead of her daily second cadence ritual. It was a good things she eschewed social interaction, as she devoted all of her time not in classes to additional study as well as this practice.

Finally, some ten weeks later, she had mastered the second cadence.
 

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Third Cadence

The third cadence used 180 candles set up at two-degree intervals in a full circle. The goal of this exercise was to strike every fifth ball bearing without turning her body, preparing her for irregular attack patterns from all sides, and honing her control of her body and sensory awareness. Some sixteen thousand ball-bearings were required, and the full cadence would take approximately three hours to complete.

As before, Fiach also incorporated the other cadences into her practice, ensuring she completed each one weekly. It took some time but, a full twelve weeks later, she was able to say she’d mastered the third cadence.
 

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Fourth Cadence

The fourth cadence called for 360 candles at one-degree intervals. In a departure from the previous regiments, this exercise called for no ball bearings, as the candles were the targets. The objective was to strike each of the candles but do so in a sequence determined by a complex mathematical formula – that had to be calculated as you completed the cadence. The exercise called for no pauses between each candle struck. Rather than develop her physical skills, this cadence developed composure and taught her quick-thinking and multi-tasking amid the chaos of battle. This exercise would took approximately three hours to complete.

Fiach found the mathematics relatively straightforward and made quick progress. Perhaps this was because her Force powers were growing too, but regardless, she managed to complete the cadenced in a mere three weeks. Now, she was practising all four on a weekly basis as well as embarking on the fifth and final cadence.
 

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Fifth Cadence

This cadence was not a teaching exercise, the goal was to test one’s self. Relying on the Force, you had to telekinetically manipulate the lightsaber, performing complex sequences with the blade as a test of the physical, mental and sensory control and precision. This final exercise would last approximately three hours and you knew you’d mastered it, when you’d mastered it.

This had seemed an odd instruction initially, but Fiach sensed when she was in complete control of all four elements and some four weeks after beginning the fifth, could count all cadences as mastered – albeit they required weekly practice.
 

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JEDI LIBRARY

“You mean, you don’t take the prophecies literally.”

“Once, when I was younger. But no. I don’t. However, I also don’t assume they’re meaningless, like most Jedi these days. Learning what the ancient mystics believed ties us to our history.”
– Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn

The duties of a Padawan varied greatly. Certain kinds of instruction were universal — meditation, lightsaber training — and were studied both in groups and privately with one’s Master. But those Masters ranged widely in talents and temperament, which meant that the assignments they gave were diverse, too.

Fiach’s most common sparring partner was partnered with a Master who was expert in two things: forming Force-bonds with animals and unarmed combat. So that Padawan spent most of her time on undeveloped worlds, protecting new settlements from both wild animals and would-be marauders. Once she had even ridden a horned beast two metres high.

Meanwhile, one of her study partners was apprentice to a Master who specialized in astrophysics. When he wasn’t poring over star charts and performing complicated equations, he was flying around the galaxy to explore unique and interesting phenomena.

Fiach’s training was slightly different. Due to her age, she had a lot of catching up to do. Whereas her fellow Padawans had the basics drilled into them for many years and were now considering specialisms, the blonde Padawan was still learning from a generalist programme.

But much of Fiach’s spare time was directed towards study. Sure, they no longer had the much-vaunted Jedi Archives, but along with the Sacred Texts (copies of which were available along with translations into Basic) there were many documents the Jedi had either found since Rey’s time, or had been written through experiences. And given she had an interest in ancient languages – she was required to put them to good use in helping to translate and decipher old prophecies.

Her interest was waning. Her logical mind said that these are only things that may never happen. And if they ever do come to pass, then they were truly foretold, and no actions could have influenced them in any way.

So she’d devised a way to use the work for another purpose. She enjoyed philosophical debates – albeit looking to find fact over opinion – because it helped her deal with the grey areas that Jedi had to operate in. Areas where she would have preferred black and white.

What use are ideals if we cannot fit them to the universe as we find it, she had read in one teaching. If our beliefs tell us one thing, and the needs of real people tell us another, can there be any question of which we should listen to?

There was a practical application to this knowledge for Fiach. Her understanding helped her realise how it is okay to ‘borrow’ a spaceship from criminals if you really need it, or If you can win a slave’s independence in a game of chance, then it’s alright to use the Force to stack the odds.
 

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SPARRING DOJO

“Many Padawans — and full Jedi Knights, for that matter, forget that the most basic technique is the most important technique. The purest. The most likely to protect you in battle, and the foundation of all knowledge that is to come.”
– Qui-Gon Jinn to Obi-Wan Kenobi


As was expected, Fiach spent a lot of time in the Padawan’s dojo. Here, younger Jedi could train and practice together, both to spend time with and to learn from their peers. It seemed they were able to teach one another a great deal – especially when their Masters were not watching.

Despite her scholarly leanings, Fiach appreciated the fact that the galaxy was not a peaceful place and it was every Jedi’s duty to be competent with a lightsaber.

So, she paced the length of the hexagonal floor, centring herself as best she could before finally drawing her training lightsaber from her belt. Its hum filled the silence, and her grip instinctively strengthened in response to its faint vibration. Breathing in deeply, Fiach assumed the opening stance and began the cadences.

The basic cadences were where everyone began. The primary moves, key defences, potential attacks. Fiach had become very strong in the starter cadences over time; and like most Padawans, she’d expected to be shown other forms of combat, to choose another one to train in and begin establishing her individual expertise.

But Fiach kept practicing the basics.

Why, she wondered. Her technique was sound, but the advice had been to press on with the basics. Fiach slashed through the air and spun her lightsaber, relished the way its hum warped with every movement.

“Very good.” An unfamiliar voice echoed through the dojo. “You’re fast.”

Fiach managed to stop in place without flinching or betraying surprise. She held her lightsaber poised horizontally across her chest, its blue light casting everything beyond it, including the unknown Jedi, in black and white. “This is the Padawans’ dojo,” she said.

“I was once a Padawan, you know.” The figure stepped forward and she recognised it as one of the Masters, a member of the Council. The Master looked up into the high ceiling, where various hand marks and footprints testified to Padawans practicing more athletic styles of lightsaber combat. Maybe they were remembering?

“You have a question.”

It was formed as a statement and took Fiach a little by surprise. In truth she had many questions but one was uppermost in her mind right now and she wondered if the Master had read her thoughts or was merely good at reading people.

“Every day I practice the basic lightsaber cadences. When will I be trained in more advanced forms of combat? Is it because you don’t think I am ready for more?” The definition of ‘who’ was left open, Fiach had no idea who advised on her training plan.

The Master paused. Fiach wondered if she were about to receive some famous wisdom, entirely inscrutable but invariably useless as it was impossible to decipher. She was, therefore, shocked at the reply.

“Most apprentices want to rush ahead to styles of fighting that are flashier or more esoteric. Most times we let them, because we must all find our preferred form eventually. But we wanted you to be grounded in your technique. We wanted you to understand the basic cadences so well that they would become instinct, so that you would be almost untouchable. Above all, we wanted to give you the training you needed to accomplish anything you set your mind to later on.”

Fiach’s mind raced. Finally, the words she was thinking came unbidden from her lips. “I appreciate you telling me…but it would have made sense to tell me sooner.” And at that point, Fiach appreciated the value of the ‘why’ more than ever before. Context was key and her learnings in studying the ancient scripts suddenly made more sense.

She smiled warmly. “And now I understand why you didn’t tell me before.” She deactivated the saber and bowed. “Thank you.”

The Jedi Master returned the bow. “May the Force be with you.”
 

Fiach Dubh

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SPARRING DOJO

The blade of the lightsaber hissed through the air. Fiach could not see its gleam through the blindfold pressing on her eyes. Instead she used the Force to know precisely when to duck.

The searing heat of her opponent’s lightsaber blade slashed overhead, nearly burning her. The air smelled of singed hair.

“Good!” the Jedi Master called from somewhere to Fiach’s left. She was not yet able to use the Force to judge distance. “Use the Force. Let your feelings guide you. Trust in the Force completely.”

The words of encouragement spurred Fiach on. Because she was taller than the average Padawan at her development level, most assumed that she’d have the upper hand in sparring. But strength and size counted for little when nimbleness and dexterity were significantly more valuable. Nor did they have any effect on the Force – and she was some way off mastering that.

Fiach listened intently for the sound of her foe’s lightsaber. Their breathing. The step of a shoe against the floor. But sounds were misleading. The noises echoed loudly in the high-ceilinged room.

Fiach was constantly being told to unlearn what she had learned. For she’d relied on her senses heavily before becoming a Padawan and was finding it difficult to disregard and discard years of habit.

A collection of wooden cubes and bean bags scattered on the floor added an additional dimension to the challenge she faced. She was supposed to use the Force the sense those, too. With uneven ground, it was easy to lose her footing, or at least become distracted enough to miss an incoming attack.
 

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The Jedi Master intoned a warning. “Keep your guard up.”

Fiach obediently raised her own weapon and rolled to her left as her opponent’s blade slammed down into the floor beside her. Standing, she took a small leap back, landing on top of a a pile of blocks. Before getting to her feet, she rolled to the left and backwards. Fiach heard the sing of the lightsaber as her foe attempted a hasty striketo capitalise on her mistake.

She was sweating now, underneath the blindfold the salty liquid dripped past her brows, making her eyes sting. She sighed inwardly and attempted to block the annoyance out. Despite her eyes being covered, she momentarily closed them and relaxed, looking to empty her mind and deepen her connection to the Force.

The helped and in a matter of moments, she felt every muscle in her body was tuned to the Force. It moved through her, was part of her and it would give her the agility and speed that she now needed.

Fiach swung her blade up to block the next blow. It was an instinctive move but born of her connection to the Force, not to her regular senses. Her focus on the third lightsaber Form was starting to pay off.

The attacker’s lightsaber hummed and whirled down. Fiach leaped up and forwards, somersaulting over her opponent’s head, and thrust her lightsaber backwards, horizontal to the ground, to where she imagined they were standing, hopefully facing thin air.
 

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“Aargh!” the other Padawan called out as Fiach’s hot blade struck the small of their back. If Fiach had been using a proper lightsaber, it would have been a killing blow. But apprentices used training sabers set to low power. The touch of the blade only gave a searing kiss, one that the healers might need to tend. But through robes, it would have been as much the physical contact as the heat that would have hurt.

“Luck,” her opponent muttered under their breath.

Until that moment, Fiach had not known who she was fighting, for she’d been led into the room blindfolded. Now she recognized the voice. It was one of the older Padawans, a zabrak

“Leave your blindfold on. The contest is not over.”

Given Fiach was standing still with her guard up, she presumed the other Padawan was the one removing his blindfold.

The zabrak’s voice was a mixture of anger and incredulation. “You hear me? You got lucky!”

Fiach wondered if the Master would intervene – and quickly dismissed the thought. She had to remain focused on the present challenge and not be distracted.

Every student had weaknesses. Fiach knew her own only too well. She had self-doubt. Doubt she could become a Knight having started later than her peers. And she lacked compassion. Every decision she made was based on logic and she felt this was a disadvantage. For Jedi were supposed to help the weak, weren’t they? For Fiach, the Temple was as much a test of character as skill.
 

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Her opponent, she knew from personal experience, struggled with his emotions – and in particular, his anger. He usually kept it well under control, so that only other Padawans glimpsed it.

“Come on, no-friends,” the zabrak taunted. “See if you can hit me again.”

Fiach tried not to feel the sting of her opponent’s words.

The truth was that Fiach was exhausted. She had secretly hoped the strike and the zabrak’s outburst would signal the end of the exercise.

After a long moment, however, the Master said, simply, “Continue.”

Fiach bowed towards the Master, accepting the order. She knew that the Jedi would be fully aware of her fatigue. Although she wished the Master would end the contest, she accepted the wisdom of their decision.

Fiach tightened her blindfold. She emptied her mind in an attempt to push away the fatigue and the hurt she felt in being reminded she had not made any friends since joining the Order.

She sensed the Force flowing around her, within her. She felt part of the Force and the Force as part of her. And she could sense the living Force in the zabrak, dark ripples caused by his anger. It would be all too easy to fall into the lazy trap to match that anger with her own. She had to resist it and, perversely, her lack of emotional intelligence helped her.

For Fiach rarely did emotions. At extreme times she might feel sad or angry, but found her logical mind either did not afford her to dwell on things from an emotional standpoint – or conversely, maybe her lack of feelings allowed her to focus entirely logically? It was a conundrum that often occupied her mind – but she pushed the thought out of her mind right now.
 

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Fiach relaxed and trusted in the Force. She had recently been working on the third form as it both suited her natural preferences and simply felt right to her. So, she assumed a defensive stance as her opponent attacked. She allowed the Force to guide her as it had done earlier. She defelected the blow effortlessly. Her strength in combat was her speed and flexibility and so she only blocked when she had to. That became a trial of strength – and was one she’d invariably lose.

Next she jumped high to avoid another blow and landed behind a pillar. Lightsabers connected, sputtered and burned, then were snapped apart. For many minutes, the two students fought as if in a graceful dance – with one party the clear lead. Fiach chose to continue to leap away from every attack and deflect every jarring blow. She did not try to hit the zabrak.

Sweat began to drench Fiach’s clothes. Her muscles burned and she struggled to breathe fast enough to get the air needed. Yet she was fit and had a regimented exercise programme that centred on stamina. And, she knew, as long as she did not attack in anger, the Force would remain strong with her. She found she was no longer thinking about the contest. She lost herself in the dance, and soon she did not think at all, her every action was decided by the Force and she trusted it implicitly.

The zabrak’s attacks became slower and less frequent. Soon, Fiach did not even need to jump away from them. She merely deflected them and felt less and less power in the blows. Finally they stopped altogether.

“Good, Fiach,” the Master said. “Now, tell me what you have learned.”

Fiach switched off her lightsaber and hung it on her belt. She used the blindfold to wipe the sweat from her face. She was slightly breathless and tired yet next to her, the zabrak was doubled over, desperately sucking in air. His saber had fallen out of his grip and was lying on the ground in front of them.
 

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Fiach took a few more moments to process the Master’s words. It was often the way. What appeared to be a physical exercise often turned out to be a cognitive lesson. Fiach closed her lids, emptied her mind once more and then re-opened her eyes.

“To defeat an enemy, you do not have to kill?” It was half a statement and half a question. The lack of a response from the Master gave her the confidence to carry on. “If you defeat the rage that burns within them, then you are no longer the enemy. Their rage is the enemy they must overcome and because they cannot see it, they cannot defeat it.”

The Master stared into Fiach’s eyes and finally nodded. “Enough for one day, reflect on what you have learned, the lesson is over.”
 

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PADAWAN TRAINING DOJO

Fiach reached out for the Force. She felt it flow around her, but she could not fully grasp it. She pushed against her opponent and saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes as he fell backward.

Fiach took advantage of his uncertainty to aim a sizzling attack at his face. The boy ducked and slashed at Fiach’s feet. Fiach leaped high in the air to avoid the blow.

When she first arrived at the Order, Fiach had learned – by fighting more experienced students – to avoid flashy attacks that wasted energy. Instead, she’d been trained to fight defensively, to deflect blows with small movements, or to avoid them altogether.

As Fiach parried the boy’s moves, she felt the Master’s eyes on her. She was tired of being known as the passive warrior, of the one that only won through her superior stamina.

So, instead of waiting to gauge the boy’s next move as training dictated, Fiach attacked suddenly and furiously. The boy tried to block the blows, but Fiach’s lightsaber met the boy’s with power. Her opponent nearly dropped his weapon.

Fiach brandished her lightsaber in both hands, something she never did, and began to swing brutally. The boy tried to block again, and fell back, sprawling. His lightsaber switched off and went flying over the stone floor.

Fiach slammed down, a decisive blow that should have won the bout, but the boy somehow managed to roll aside and grab his fallen lightsaber. He barely had time to switch it on before Fiach’s lightsaber battered down again.

This time, there was no blocking the blow. The boy’s lightsaber was knocked back into him. Fiach caught him cleanly between the eyes, burning his hair and scorching his skin.

The boy cried out in pain as both lightsabers burned him, and the Master pronounced, “Enough!”
 

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All around the arena, the Padawans shouted and cheered.

Fiach backed away, panting. Sweat ran down her arms and face; her muscles ached from the effort. She felt light-headed and a little dizzy. And the sense of elation she expected was non-existent.

Yet she had never won a bout so convincingly. He glanced into the face of the Jedi Master and he gave her the briefest of nods.

I’ve won, Fiach told herself. I beat my opponent soundly. The Master is bound to be impressed. The words echoed through her mind and felt…empty. Almost as if they were a lie.

Fiach headed quickly to the dressing room where she showered and changed into a fresh tunic. She was placing her dirty tunic into the laundry basket when the Master entered the room.

“Who taught you to fight like that?” he asked.

It was a rhetorical question, Fiach knew, but that did not help her understand what her reply should be. “What do you mean, Master?”

“Students in the Temple are not taught to attack so aggressively, so totally. They learn to defend, to wear one another down. They conserve their strength. Yet you fought as if you were desperate. You left yourself open to attack time and time again and relied on the boy to take the defensive stance.”

“I wanted to end it quickly,”
Fiach said, unsure if what she was saying was truly what she was thinking. “The Force allowed it,” she added, emphatically.

The Master sighed audibly. “I am not so sure. You cannot always rely upon your enemy to take the defensive stance. Your efforts were too dangerous, too risky.”

“I wanted to show I could win a fight with different tactics.”

“You wanted to show. You wanted to…show. Really?”


If Fiach was a blusher, her face would be bright red now. But she felt no emotion at the stinging words and instead only heard the truth in them.

“In future fights, remember your training. A Jedi Knight never exhaust himself when battling a stronger foe. And never expect your enemy to miss an opportunity to do you harm.”

Fiach stood still, allowing the truth to sink in. An hour later, she left the changing area and went for a run.
 

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TRAINING ROOM IN THE JEDI TEMPLE

It was pitch dark. The room had no windows and the lights were extinguished.

Fiach stood perfectly still. She sensed no movement in the darkened room, yet her muscles were tensed, ready for action. This was the usual way to prepare for an attack and not the Jedi way. So she relaxed and allowed the Force to flow through her. She was one with the Force and the Force was one with her. As a result, her muscles relaxed. To maintain the state of preparedness was tiring. The Force would tell her when it was time to act.

The only light came from the glowing green blade of her training saber. The only sounds were the hum of the blade and her breathing – which was almost inaudible.

Fiach had been standing in the same position, balanced on a thin rail, two metres above the ground, for almost an hour. Still, she waited. Patience was one of her virtues.

Suddenly, the sound of a cough penetrated the silence, breaking Fiach’s concentration. A Master must have entered the room without her detecting their arrival. She chastised herself mentally. Momentarily distracted, she almost missed the stealth-training probe moving rapidly toward her head. This was what she had been waiting all this time for.

Fiach turned awkwardly on the slim rail and sliced the probe out of the air. Leaping high to another unseen but not unsensed rail, she knocked out three more probes. A moment later the lights in the room came on and the young Padawan deactivated her lightsaber.

Fiach shook her head. The exercise was complete, and on flimsi she had done well, but she knew she could have done better. Her focus had been on the training probes and, as a result, she’d ignored the Jedi’s entrance. It was a lesson learned – and Fiach was a good student.

Being a Padawan was constant work. And somehow the dedication, energy, and patience it required seemed to intensify when Fiach was at the Temple, when she wasn’t working on a mission with her Master.

And she knew the training would not end if…or rather when…she became a Knight. Jedi never stopped learning. But after endless training exercises, Fiach could feel her focus begin to slip. Which, she understood, was part of the process.

She should have been prepared for anything.
 

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“Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him.”
“You mean it controls your actions?”
“Partially. But it also obeys your commands.”

― Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker

JEDI TEMPLE


Padawan training was in most ways regimented. There were set classes, time to study and even opportunities to accompany your Master on a mission. Yet every now and then the lesson was – as Fiach liked to describe it – fluid.

She’d been asked to go to a specific room, knock and enter. So she arrived a couple of minutes early – as was her preference – and at the appointed time knocked on the door, opened it and stepped inside.

The moment she was in the room, she was blinded by light which immediately extinguished, plunging her into disconcerting darkness. Before she could think, the floor beneath her feet opened up, and she fell.

Fiach was falling through some sort of metal tube. She tried to slow her descent with her heels, but they only clattered against the rough metal surface. Her speed increased until she reached the bottom of the shaft, when she tumbled forward, hitting her head on the edge of the tube and then spilling out onto a dirt floor.

She lay for a moment, stunned. Finally, her head stopped spinning. She struggled to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for her lightsaber as she did. It was pitch black wherever she was. Illuminating the room with the light of her weapon, she noted smooth durasteel walls surrounding her. There was no opening that Fiach could see.

“OK, what next,” she said out loud. Her voice bounced off the walls, sounding hollow. It was possible something else might happen to her, or she may be required to puzzle a solution from her present surroundings. Not all Jedi training was Force related, they were expected to become detectives, solving problems and Fiach presumed this was one such test of her progress in this regard.

The chute above her was smooth and vertical and too wide to climb out of easily. “Clearly not that way,” she muttered. Looking around, she vocalised what she saw. They were encouraged to do so, as often these tests were recorded and the Masters liked to see how they set about solving a problem as much as how successful they were in resolving it.
 

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“There is more than one entrance.” She looked down and saw the dirt had been disturbed by other footprints. “Others have escaped and since it would be impossible to do so from the way I came in, there must be an exit that I simply haven’t seen yet.”

She held her lightsaber close to the walls surrounding her, examining them. As she worked, she relaxed and felt the Force begin to move around her.

Now she clearly saw every irregularity in the seemingly smooth walls. She searched for a hidden seam, sure now that she would find one. All she had to do was trust the Force.

When she first arrived at the Temple, she had been mystified by the Force. She knew he was Force-sensitive – it was why her Master had selected her and brought her here. But early in her training, she found the Force elusive and unreliable. She was able to tap into it, but not every time she wanted to. And when she did, she could not control it.

With the help of her Master, she had learned that it was not appropriate to try to control it. That was the Sith way, to bend the Force to your will. Instead, she was shown how to join it. To be one with the Force, to allow the Force to flow through her and concentrate on what she needed to achieve. Then she should trust the Force to guide her, give her strength and vision.

Now she was beginning to understand how deeply it flowed, how steady a presence it was. It was everywhere, all of the time and, as a Padawan, she had constant access to it. It was a gift she’d been given at birth, but only now was aware she had received it.

Finally, she noticed a tiny hairline crack in the even surface of the wall.

She moved her hand over the seam. “Finding the place where the opening is helps, but is not the solution,” she said. There must be a handle or a locking device and it is most likely to be on the other side of the door. And judging by the lack of damage to the exit, I can presume that a training saber is not able to burn through the metal.” Aware that they were trained never to make assumptions, she touched the tip of her saber to the seam.

Nothing happened. She had expected it…but had to try.
 

Fiach Dubh

Character
Jedi Order
Rank
Jedi Knight

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Corbeau
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“Now, I am trapped here, and, unlike a real scenario, you must be aware that I have the necessary skills to make my escape. Which is artificial I accept, but the challenge remains.” This was not entirely true. There was a test she’d had to endure soon after arriving that had no solution given he level of training. The test was not how she could escape, but what she did knowing she could not. On that occasion, she’d tried all she knew and finally meditated. Perhaps the Force would provide an answer. If not, at least she would be fully rested when help, or an adversary arrived.

Fiach deactivated her saber with a hiss-snap. She clipped it to her belt and closed her eyes. Although it was dark in the room, she found that by closing her lids, her focus improved. She ran her hands along the seam and traced a three-sided shape that approximated a rectangular door frame. Then she ran her hands across the scape within the seams. Convinced there was nothing on her side of the door, she paused.

Of all the skills she had, the one most likely to open the door was telekinesis. For a sufficiently skilled practitioner, the size, weight, distance, and mass of a targeted object did not matter. Advanced Jedi could also be able to affect a target that was otherwise obscured, such as the inside of a target, which notably could allow a target to affect technology to an extent by manipulating its internal or external mechanisms. Fiach was about to dismiss this as an option when she chided herself.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” she intoned. “I have already failed because I believe I cannot do it.” She imagined she was on the other side of the door and made a mental note of where a locking mechanism would be most likely located, given where they were elsewhere in the Temple. Then she took a deep breath and relaxed, connecting deeply with the Force. All other thoughts were pushed out of her mind.

She splayed her right hand where she expected the locking mechanism to be and visualised opening the door, of the internal workings moving. How long she stood there she could not tell. It might have been moments and it could have been hours – time seemed to pass at a different pace – but suddenly Fiach felt connected to the mechanism as if she was actually touching it. It took all of her composure to remain calm and connected to the Force so deeply.

Calmly, she imagined opening the door and heard a soft click and the door gently swing open towards her, and light began to flood into the room.
 
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