Chương 1: The Ocean He Remembered

68 BBY – 932 ARR – Coruscant"Master, I Saw–""Shh." hushed Master Zucul. He held the youngling whose small hands grasped at his robes like a sailor lost in a storm.

"You must never tell them what you see, do you understand? If you tell them, they will take you away." ~*~*~*~*~ Even by the standards of the Crèche, an organization dedicated to training beings of all species with access to the Force into sword-and-sorcery wielding monks, Rann Crys stood out as a particularly odd child. At four years old, he was quiet and contemplative. He did not often play with toys or engage with many of the children around him, and that was on his good days.

If spoken to, he always seemed to measure his responses and was unfailingly polite. At times, he seemed very much like an adult trying to put up with the behavior of the children around him. Rann Crys was known throughout the Creches for his mood swings. This would not normally be the case, of course, as young children were uniquely predisposed to such. But his were well-known because the rest of the Creche could feel them so viscerally.

One of the duties of a Crèchemaster was to suppress the emotions of a crècheling in the Force, so as to not disturb their peers. Rann Crys' were often beyond such means. The first time Master Zucul noted his charge's moods as being… unique, in some way, was when the child had asked a simple question. Rann Crys had walked up him in his solemn way, and asked "Master, can we go to the ocean?"

"No, Initiate Rann, we cannot. There are no oceans on Coruscant anymore." The Crecheling had looked up at the Master. Being Miraluka, he had not seen those eyes beginning to well with tears – not as others did – but he could sense it.

"Is there anywhere else we can go?"

"No, Rann. Not until you're much older." The crècheling had begun to wail, then, speaking in that strange language that he had made up. And as he worked to suppress the emotions in the Force so his agemates wouldn't be drawn in, he had noted something odd in that maelstrom produced by a four-year-old. Grief. Not a child's grief, of not being allowed to have something they wanted. It was the grief of something lost. Zucul also noticed that the boy had an affinity for another youngling, Mace Windu.

Both children were strange in their own ways. Not Dark, no not that. But definitely… intense in the Force. The two of them could often be found side-by-side, silent sentinels watching their agemates play, arguing about schoolyard ethics, or engaging each other in Force games. Neither one of them seemed all that amused by Yoda's usual antics, which seemed to garner the little troll's attention. All the Crèchemasters were sure they would both make good Jedi one day.

~*~*~ Mace and Rann were staring at each other, engaged in a silent battle of wills. Mace wanted him to play the Feather Game, but Rann didn't feel like it. This was a Bad Day. There was too much right now, his head hurt. He saw Past, Present, Future and the Other Place. He Heard the whispers of the dead and screams of the not-yet-born, felt the weight of all who would pass through these halls and the terrible fate which awaited its last residents. All he wanted was to close his eyes, ride out the storm.

"Play."

"Mm." None of the other Younglings had advanced to the point where they could even play the Feather Game, which was a game that exercised a force-sensitives' ability to Push and Pull. He knew Mace was persistent and would bother him until they played. But his head hurt. Nothing made sense. He closed his eyes. The gossamer threads of Fate still found him. He Saw- a Sith in all their terrible glory, an army of gleaming white soldiers, a smuggler's smile - "ow!"

"No. Stay here. Play!" A Force presence pushed against him in a clumsy attempt to keep him here. It worked. Like cobwebs, the Force-threads blew away.

"Okay," he said, opening his eyes to peer back into Mace's. Mace's hand opened, and a feather floated into the air, three feet between them. Mace would be the defender first. Rann decided to use his usual strategy and began to tug at the feather with the Force from different directions, normally two or three at once. He never let up and never stopped changing from what direction he pulled. After a minute, the feather began to waver. Twenty more seconds and a solid tug later, it flew into his outstretched hand.

Mace made a frustrated noise. Rann smiled, a surprisingly wicked look on his cherubic face, opening his hand to let the feather fly back into the air. Rann prepared. The feather was rocked as Mace went with his normal opening move: overwhelming Force. Mace didn't bother with multiple directions and instead Pulled toward himself. Over a minute later, the feather was back in his hands. The game began again. ~*~*~ Rann did not know how he knew the ocean, but he did, and he loved her.

In his dreams and in his not-quite memories, he had lived near her and on her waves. They were his lullabies, and her gentle swells had rocked him to sleep many times in his life. Master Zucul had told him that there were no oceans on Coruscant, but that didn't make sense, because Rann knew the ocean, but he only knew Coruscant. How did he know what he had never had? It didn't make sense, like a lot of things didn't to Rann.

He didn't know why he had flashes of the Other Place, where sometimes he was too old or there were things that weren't. He didn't know why sometimes he saw things minutes or hours before they happened. He didn't know why sometimes, right before he closed his eyes and went to sleep, he felt like all the trillions of souls of Coruscant, living and unliving, were pressing in on him. In the Other Place, there hadn't been the Force. But there had been an ocean.

Some days, he could feel the Force's gentle movements and close his eyes, letting the Force's gentle movements remind him of the ocean. But there were other moments, when he couldn't make himself believe the lie and missed what he had never had. It made him sad. It made him scared. How did he have these not-quite memories of the Other Place? He didn't know how he knew the ocean, but he loved her.

~*~*~ (66 BBY) At around age six, Rann's neurons had adapted enough to the memories of the Other Place that he no longer felt like he was swimming – drowning – in his own brain. While things were still patchy and didn't quite make sense (he was still six, after all), enough pieces had fallen into place for him to come to some conclusions. First, he was currently Mace Windu's best friend. Awesome. Two, he was in Star Wars in the Late Republic as a Youngling of the Jedi Order. Not Awesome.

Three, he didn't see characters/people like Obi-Wan or Anakin. He tentatively came to the conclusion that while yes, he was in the universe of Star Wars in a dangerous era, he had time before things really went wrong. Another complicating factor was that he had one of the Force's more unique abilities: precognition.

Having his sense of time and grasp of the present being eroded at the same time as a past life's memories slowly filtered in worked in tandem to create a child who spent much of their time in quiet contemplation or simply struggling against a rebelling mind unable and sometimes unwilling to comprehend memories it wasn't yet ready for. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

It seemed to be this quiet, combined with a sense of wisdom and quick wit that drew Mace to him. In turn, he grew to like Mace not just for being a hero in a movie in a galaxy far, far away, but also for his own intellect and strident nature. While Rann could easily get lost in his own head, Mace had a way of centering everything with his own down-to-earth nature. He could snap Rann out of one of his spirals with a prod in the Force, or if necessary, flicking his ear.

"Ow!" Rann scowled and rubbed his ear.

"You nerf-herder!"

"You're not supposed to use bad words," said Mace, with a serious expression.

"Well, you're not supposed to flick people." Mace looked briefly uneasy at this – he had little stomach for breaking the rules – but quickly replied, "You were being all weird again."

"Yeah." Rann shrugged and readied his practice saber.

"Thanks." As they began drilling through the first katas taught to younglings of the Order for millennia, those of Form I Shii-Cho, Rann began to think again. It was really amazing that he'd become friends with Mace Windu, one of the coolest Jedi introduced in the prequels. Meeting him as a child let him see the rough edges that would be sanded down by the time he became Master of the Order and High Councilor Mace Windu, but also the almost frightening intensity that would take him there.

Rann had very clear reasons for training like a maniac: the imminent (in relative terms) threat of death. Mace Windu trained like a maniac because he was simply that driven to become a Jedi Knight. Which was why there were two six-year-olds alone in the practice salles, practicing their Shii-Cho. Even an order of blade-wielding monks conceded that people needed time off, especially six-year-olds.

While around 8 hours of their days were taken up with training Force abilities and lightsaber techniques, classes on history, diplomacy, trade, politics, and other subjects, or meditation, that still left a few hours of free time. Most younglings their age spend this time playing, reading, or doing some other leisure activity. Holodramas and other "drivel" were specifically banned, so this contraband was especially valued.

Mace and Rann eschewed these activities and instead chose to practice what few Jedi techniques were entrusted to six-year-olds. This time, when Mace moved to flick his ear, Rann dodged. Or maybe he dodged it a bit early, because now Mace was looking at him weird again. Precognition made his sense of timing a bit off, sometimes.

"Stop looking at me like that. I knew you were going to flick me again!"

"I'll quit it when you focus!" Rann really focused up this time and got back to training. He didn't know what to do about the future yet, but he knew he couldn't let his new friend get electrocuted and chucked out a window. There were a lot of things he'd have to do and a lot of skills he'd have to pick up. ~*~*~ Rann isn't supposed to be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, not without supervision, at least.

Crèchelings in general aren't allowed to wander the halls of the temple without the strict supervision of their Crèchemasters, or at least someone else who had been temporarily assigned to watch over them. But Rann couldn't keep away. A week ago, they had been allowed into the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the massive greenhouse and its seemingly infinite gardens, carefully chaperoned by Master Zucul. And there, he had found something beautiful. On the bottom story, there had been a Nautolan water-garden.

He had smelled the salt air and shrieked in delight. It was not his beloved ocean, but it was better than the sterile, boring pool where they had received swimming lessons. But before he could leap in, Master Zucul had caught him in the Force. He wasn't allowed into the water that day but had been promised they could return. After a week of waiting, though, he had decided it was long enough and decided to sneak out at night. He slid into the water smoothly, quietly.

Rann almost cried in relief at the taste of salt on his lips and the almost-right buoyancy he remembered. Taking a deep breath, he dove deep into the artificial ocean and opened his eyes. The salt stung briefly, and his vision was blurry, but he could see the garden. It was beautiful. Green and red kelp swayed gently, as did blue and purple fan corals resting near yellow staghorns. Darting in and out were ruby fishes and a cautious zebra-striped eel-like creatures peered out at him.

This is what he remembered from the Other Place. This was not the coral reefs he remembered, but it was something. It still had coral and kelp and fish and crustaceans, even if they all looked different. Rann swam in this underwater garden, following the occasional fish or just swimming deeper. He didn't remember things like time, or even, apparently, the Force signatures of other Jedi.

Not until he had reached the bottom of the saltwater enclosure and swam into a perfect circle of sand with a Nautolan Jedi at its center, eyes closed as she meditated. Then her eyes opened. They widened in surprise, at the sight of him. Rann waved. Her eyes narrowed. Before he knew it, Rann was grabbed and dragged to the surface, away from the ocean garden and back to the world above that he had managed to forget for a while.

"What are you doing here, initiate?"

"Ocean," he managed to gasp out after a few breaths.

"What?"

"I wanted to feel the ocean." The older Jedi looked at him in bafflement. Then her expression hardened. Despite all his complaints and entreaties, he was marched back to the Creches half-naked with his dry robes in-hand. Master Zucul woke up just long enough for him to promise a discussion, and Rann was sent back to bed nervous for the morning to come.

"So you decided to jump in?" Master Zucul looked at him with his sightless visor, carefully blank in the Force and impossible to read except for faint disapproval. It was just after their morning meal in the refectory.

"Yes, Master Zucul." Rann looked away sulkily.

"How did you get to the bottom?"

"I swam." The Miralukan gave him an assessing look.

"I suppose you did. That pool is fifteen meters, you know." Rann shrugged.

"How did you do that?" Rann could somehow feel Zucul's eyeless gaze.

"D'unno. The Force." Rann wanted to swing his legs back and forth on the large, plush chair he was sitting in. The lack of discipline and control it would demonstrate wouldn't help him, so he didn't. Master Zucul sighed." Why did you do it?"

"You promised we could go and see it, but we never went!" He was indignant.

"Initiate Rann, it's been a week." Rann knew better than to argue, so he stayed quiet. Master Zucul sighed again. He didn't like conflict, didn't like punishing his charges. Rann didn't like disobeying, didn't like disappointing his Master. But he wanted, needed to see the ocean again.

"I think, Initiate Crys, that this shall serve as a lesson on attachment. You will not be allowed to go to the Nautolan water-garden for a month." Rann stayed silent, sullen but accepting.

"Or attend swimming lessons. You're already proficient." Rann squawked but didn't beg. He felt Master Zucul's determination was final in the Force. ~*~*~"Doing, what are you, Initiate Crys?" The ancient Master watched the boy squirm, floating in mid-air.

"Swimming." And he was. Rann was currently practicing his breaststroke in midair, being propelled by nothing so much as the Force.

"In the air, you are."

"Yes, Master Yoda."

"Swimming, in the water, why are you not?"

"Master Zucul banned me for a month." Rann, having reached one wall, executed a perfect flip-and-turn, just like he remembered being taught at his local pool the summer he turned twelve – his head hurt, he pushed the thought away. He began to 'swim' his way towards the opposite wall. Yoda was silent for a moment.

"Frivolous, it is, to use the Force in such a way." Frivolous was one of Master Yoda's and the Crèchemaster's favorite words. It described a range of behaviors and was exclusively a bad thing. But the worst kind of frivolous was frivolous use of the Force. It could result in talking-tos, time-outs, or guided meditations. It meant getting in trouble, in other Initiates whispering about you and Crèchemasters paying too much attention to you. And Rann had enough guided meditations as it was.

Being strong in the Unifying Force meant that he needed exceptionally strong shields to hold the universe at bay.

"I'm practicing."

"Practicing, are you?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. I'm practicing my swimming and my control in the Force."

"Distracting, it is."

"That's why I waited until everyone was at their swim lesson." And he had. Master Zucul hadn't told him explicitly what he was supposed to do with the free time but had instead highly suggested that he meditate on the virtues of self-discipline and patience. Rann had instead engaged in his silent rebellion of swimming through the air. After the first swim lesson, the padawan assigned to watching him hadn't said anything but did pull Master Zucul aside. Master Zucul had apparently decided to involve Yoda.

"Intended this, Master Zucul did not." Rann made a faint noise in the back of his throat but didn't say anything. Before Master Yoda could press him again, his clanmates began to trickle in. Instead of stopping like he had last time, Rann decided to continue swimming, now powered by childish stubbornness and the Force.

"Woah! How are you doing that?" asked one of the entering Initiates, who had stopped at the doorway to look at him in wonder.

"The Force."

"But how are you swimming?"

"The Force is like an ocean that's anywhere, and you can always swim in the ocean."

"Like the ocean, it is?" Master Yoda was looking at him with an odd gleam in his eyes. He stamped his gimer stick on the floor.

"Meditate on this, when swimming, your clanmates are." Rann groaned internally.

"Yes, Master Yoda."