Chương 2: Mandalas and Training

64 BBY – 936 ARR – Coruscant Master Zucul overheard two initiates debating a parable.

"Stealing is wrong," Mace said flatly.

"So is starving," Rann replied.

"He should find work."

"That won't feed his family tonight." Mace paused.

"The children should eat – but the thief must still be punished."

"Then why punish what was right?" Rann pressed. Zucul walked on. ~*~*~*~*~ Over the next two years, Rann became a mildly better duelist. He also focused on his Force abilities, becoming incredibly proficient in shielding, disguising his Force presence, and honing his precognitive abilities. He also worked on his slicing (hacking), diplomacy, research skills, spycraft, and general competency. Just for fun, he also brushed up on his Mandalorian.

Evan Warbler – his past life, he had come to realize – had been a huge fan of Mandalorians, going so far as to learn the language as best he could on Earth. Nothing compared to being able to actually hear the language spoken or read documents written by native speakers, though. His previous life's "fluency" was laughable at best compared to current level of ability. Rann's memories of Evan's life also trickled in, enough to draw much more firm conclusions as to when he was.

Mace Windu was born 72 BBY, and the end of the Clone Wars was 19 BBY. Mace was currently eight, meaning he had forty-four years before being defenestrated. While that might seem like a lot of time, Rann was also fighting against a thousand years of Sith scheming and the erosion of trust in institutions like the Republic, Senate, and the Jedi Order. He was also able to come to some other conclusions. He was not an exceptionally good fighter.

Compared to most of his fellow agemates, Rann was leagues ahead, but he still played second fiddle to Mace. Their sparring sessions showed him the difference between being very determined and being a prodigy. Mace, even at the age of eight, had a solid understanding of spacing, timing, and muscle control, much less the basic elements that make up swinging a sword.

In the months it took Rann to begin to grasp Shii-Cho as not just a set of katas but a system and philosophy, Mace was already fine-tuning its elements to fit him. It stung his pride somewhat that he consistently lost to an actual eight-year-old. He could recognize that Mace had an edge to him that Rann simply… didn't. His decisive nature and black-and-white view meant that when he saw an opening, he took it. Rann tended to hesitate, to wait to see if he could find the perfect opening.

It meant that while Rann could beat Mace two out of ten times, Mace still won the other eight rounds. This round, though, this round he would win. Rann settled into a cross-guard stance, blade parallel to the ground. While Mace was certainly the better duelist, Rann was much further along in his Force abilities. To compensate for his relative lack of skill with a lightsaber, he'd developed his precognition to a very respectable level.

Enough to know exactly where Mace's frustrated overhead strike would take him as he let his emotions take over. Rann danced out of the way, striking down to knock Mace's practice saber out of his hands.

"Solah," said Rann. Mace stared at the fallen saber for a second. Rann Saw the myriad possibilities play out for a split moment, as Mace considered taking the round to the ground or using the Force or – Rann stopped himself. Mace was many things at eight years old, but he wasn't a graceful loser. Rough edges and all that.

"Solah." Mace retrieved his saber and marched to the other side of the ring, frustration and anger clear in the Force. He raised his arms into a ready pose. Rann lowered his saber, tired and still blinking out the gossamer webs of Force from Seeing dozens of possibilities.

"That's enough for today," called another voice.

"Go cool off, initiates." Senior Padawan Bondara was pretty young to lead lightsaber instruction classes, but he was a talented enough duelist that no one questioned it. Mace flashed discontent in the Force like he wanted to protest but kept quiet and turned to join the crowd of initiates outside. Rann nodded and did the same.

"Review time. Can anyone tell me what either duelist did well?" A hand rose.

"Initiate Windu consistently pressured initiate Crys."

"Initiate Windu struck from every direction."

"Initiate Windu stayed on the offensive." Padawan Bondara seemed to get a little frustrated. Mace was popular, which made it not that surprising that the class wasn't quick to point out his flaws.

"That's all well and true, but why did Initiate Windu lose?" He finally asked. There was silence for a moment.

"Because Rann cheated," someone muttered.

"Oh? How did he cheat?"

"His stupid precognition!"

"So it's cheating to use your abilities?"

"No!" Said Mace explosively.

"Rann – Initiate Crys, didn't cheat, Padawan Bondara. He used his ability to See the future, yes, but I got frustrated and let him bait me." Bondara smiled at Mace.

"Exactly, Initiate Windu. You did not lose because of Rann's precognition. You lost because he waited until you lost patience and made a mistake." Mace nodded unhappily. The rest of the class looked uncertain. Then Bondara turned to him.

"Initiate Crys, you did very well to wait for an opening and even baiting one out. Your footwork, however, was sloppy. Never cross your feet like that in a duel, you lose balance and options." He accepted this critique with a crisp nod.

"And have you considered what Forms you would like to specialize in?"

"I was considering Form III and well, Form I." The rest of the class was perplexed. One kid scoffed. They were probably the least-popular Forms in the order, excepting the almost-taboo Form VII, Juyo. Bondara waited for him to say more, then waved his hand for him to continue.

""Form III, Soresu, will give me a strong defense and lets me wait to find the time to strike. Form I is simple but gives me offensive tools and relies on the Force a lot. My goal is to merge both into a style that allows me to rely on my precognition to know when to strike."

"Very good, initiate. It seems like you have considered this well. But why not incorporate a more aggressive style?" Probed Bondara. He could tell that Bondara wasn't critiquing but rather seeking to understand the decision.

"It's not my Jedi way," he shrugged.

"It's not your… Jedi way?" Bondara asked, amused.

"Believe it!" Even if no one in this entire galaxy got the reference, it made Rann happy. Bondara signaled amusement, which had to count for something.

"Very well, dismissed. Initiate Windu, you may stay behind. Master Yoda has instructed me to run you through the first twenty katas of Juyo."

"Yes, Padawan Bondara," said Mace. His face was serious, but he couldn't hide his anticipation in the Force. The other kids looked at him in awe. It was no secret that Master Yoda had taken a special interest in Mace, and to a lesser extent, himself. Yoda recognized the prodigious talent in Mace, and the internal struggles they both shared. Mace received more personalized time with Yoda than any other youngling in the Order currently, though he also led the both of them through some guided meditations as well.

Another conclusion was that he was weird this go-round. In some ways it wasn't that different from his past life, he'd never been a social butterfly or anything. But this time around, his only friend was Mace. It was kind of odd though, that his friend was looked up to by everyone around their age and he was just kind of accepted as Mace's quiet shadow. Mace tended to drag him around to do whatever, while Rann either sat back or daydreamed until prompted.

So when he slipped away from the gaggle of younglings after showering in the lockers, no one really noticed. One of the earliest lessons Rann had learned in his previous life was that if you acted like you belonged, people tended not to ask questions. Instead of trying to dampen his Force signature and sneak around (which he could do), he made his way to the Archives with the blank face and unhurried-but-quick pace most Jedi utilized.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Once there, he made sure to scope the place out. Looking around casually and letting his Force senses stretch out, he couldn't see a problem. Younglings weren't allowed in the Archives unattended, so he was always at risk of getting in trouble if he was caught. Between confidence bluffing, being cautious, and precognition, though, he'd never even gotten close.

For most people, especially most eight-year-olds, spending time in the archives was something done for homework, a mission, or on assignments. Rann could admit fully that his not yet developed mind and body sometimes struggled to sit through a significant amount of time in the archives, but he could force himself through it. The end goal was too important for little discomforts to discourage him.

After most of his memories came back, Rann knew he had a couple different options: one, do nothing and see how it played out. By far the worst option, this would likely see him dead in the turbulent years up ahead, or almost certainly by Order 66. Two, he could run off into Deep Space or the Outer Rim. In his worst moments, this option tried to seduce him.

But he had friends – well, a friend and some acquaintances that were friends of his friend – in the Order, and besides that, there were the ethical considerations of letting the Jedi be massacred and the Empire's atrocities. While he understood that things in the Outer Rim didn't change much, the amount of suffering introduced by the Sith to the galaxy at large was just… too much to ignore. So that brought Rann to the only solution that was feasible: do something about it. This brought its own set of problems.

Namely, Rann was not the Chosen One, nor a prodigy. Talents like Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, or even Dooku were exceptional, once-in-a-generation. Rann was better than your average eight-year-old and had the relatively rare ability of precognition, but he wasn't exceptional. He'd pretty quickly come to the conclusion that he couldn't single-handedly stop a thousand years of Sith plotting with sheer personal might. Thus, the archives. If he couldn't stop these problems alone, he would have to research them.

Though he'd seen the movies, the TV shows, and even the books, none of that compared to being able to read about the problems first-hand. At first, he'd tried to figure out how to leave the temple. It had taken the Temple Guards escorting him back to Crèche and a few timeouts to decide to scrap that plan. Turns out, it took more skill than an eight-year-old possessed to enter or leave the Jedi Temple. He figured he would have to wait on that until he was skilled enough to slip past them.

Besides all the strategic reasons, Rann actually liked the Archives. He'd always been something of a bookworm and enjoyed researching, so to have access to the greatest repository of knowledge in the entire Star Wars universe was a dream come true. And being in a space that was so still and tranquil meant that there were less variables, meaning that his precognition was more… peaceful. He could See further into the immediate future, and his visions didn't overwhelm him with possibilities.

Normally, he only saw the likeliest outcomes, but when there were dozens or hundreds of things happening like in a Crèche full of excitable younglings it could be overwhelming. Currently, he is researching the Stark Hyperspace War, or at least the problems leading up to it. Considering it wouldn't kick off for another twenty years, he wanted to get a grasp of how things had gotten to that point.

He knew a little from what he remembered of the comics and hours on Wookiepedia, but that wasn't a lot compared to the in-depth resources available to the largest collection of records in the galaxy, the Jedi Archives. Just as he plucked a flimsi-plast on the production of Bacta off the shelves and began to make his way to his favorite chair, he sensed a disturbance in the Force. Closing his eyes, he analyzed the premonition.

He Saw a tall woman in an outfit atypical for a Jedi stride over to him, and after a short discussion he was forced to leave. Rann cursed under his breath. Pointing to his excellent coursework, he had negotiated with his Crèchemaster and the previous Head Librarian to allow him access as long as he was quiet and respectful of the records. He'd forgotten. Today was a transition of power in the Archives. There was a new Head Librarian, and she was apparently looking to make examples.

The old management was out, and she would run this place as she chose. Rann rerouted and made his way further into the Archives, away from her Force signature. Meeting Master Jocasta Nu, former High Councilor and current Head Librarian might be interesting, but it wasn't something he would get banned from the archives over. There was still work to do. For the next week, he managed to dodge her without detection, but after that something changed.

Any time he entered the Archives; she seemed to find him within an hour or two. This would kick off a game of cat-and-mouse, as they shuffled around the shelves and reading spaces. Sometimes he would lose her for a bit, normally by going into one of the numerous secret passages, but then she would find him again and the game would begin again. Their little game became something of a dance, as he became skilled at dodging her, and she at finding him. There even came to be informal rules of engagement.

Still, it was a major frustration because he couldn't lose himself in the tedium of research but instead had to be aware of all his senses. ~*~*~ The Jedi Order expected very little and very much out of eight-year-olds. They expected for an eight-year-old – or species equivalent – sentient to follow the relatively time-filling schedule they had, where they awoke around 6: 30AM, were eating breakfast at 7, and in a classroom by 8. Around 10, they had their morning round of 'saber practice, followed by meditation.

The first half of the day was capped off with lunch, and then they essentially repeated the morning's structure until 4PM, where they then had two hours to themselves before dinner. Rann and Mace spent that time training in the Salles. By around 8: 15 or so, bedtime routines began. Thus the days went, with every fifth day – the "weekend" on Coruscant time – being a half-day. One of the things that Rann noted was just how geographically limited his life was. Since coming to the Coruscant temple, he had never left.

Even within the temple, his life was very confined; the Crèches, Refectory, Salles, Room of a Thousand Fountains, and classrooms were essentially the only areas which allowed younglings regularly. With special permission or occasion, he could go to the Halls of Healing, High Council's Spire, or to the Archives.

Despite the Temple being larger than literally any building in his old life, essentially being an arcology, he had permission to be in roughly a fourth or less of the upper 80 levels still in use of the main ziggurat. Not to mention the countless levels below that, which were entirely off-limits to all but Knights with permission and Masters.

This was admittedly more than 10 kilometers squared, if he had to guess, but it was still such a limit to someone who had been an adult who traveled the world in a previous life. So of course he tried to explore areas he wasn't allowed. Here, he was met with a mixed reaction. He had of course managed to get himself into many areas of the Temple by simply walking around confidently and projecting his assurance in the Force.

This had not gotten him outside, as the faceless Temple Guards silently stood in his way and directed him back to the Crèche. Where he promptly got in trouble. Further attempts at sneaking out were foiled by those same sentinels, so he had eventually given up and resolved to try again once he was older. So, when he could, Rann took to exploring the Temple. He really didn't have other friends besides Mace, so if he wasn't stuck in school (because that's what it was) or with Mace, he would explore.

Most of what he found in his first couple excursions was endlessly fascinating as a Star Wars fan who had spent years thinking about this galaxy but lacking answers. And then it had largely become boring. One Jedi Knight's quarters really wasn't all that different from the next, and much of what he wasn't allowed access to but could easily get to were just miles of hallways for housing. Every once and a while, he would run across something interesting, like a statue of a particular Jedi that rang out in the Force.

Today had been another one of those days where, after about an hour of exploring, he encountered nothing. As it was the weekend, he still had four hours until dinner. Time for something else, he thought. Mandalas were something he had always been fascinated by in his past life but had never created. He figured that they fit in well with the monastic tradition of the Jedi Order, though they apparently weren't a practice in the current era.

Talking with the Crèchemaster, he had requisitioned some colored beads and a 50cm round board with divots carved to house the beads, claiming it would be a training tool. Not even a lie, as he would meditate while doing it. As he sat in front of the mandala board, he realized he didn't have a clue on how to begin. He decided to place a red bead at the center. It didn't feel right. He closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the Force. Blue. He opened his eyes. A blue bead, then.

He repeated this process, a mixture of listening, trial and error, and an exercise in frustration. Two hours later, he had filled the board. His Crèchemaster walked by.

"Oh? Is this the… mandala board, you called it," asked Master Zucul kindly. He nodded.

"This looks very good, Rann!"

"Thank you, Master," he replied.

"But it's not great." It wasn't. There were incomplete patterns, lines that were subtly off. But the most glaring issue was in the Force. He could feel that what he had made was, somehow, an imperfect expression. The Force moved through his mandala, but there were eddies and snags where it did not flow seamlessly. He wondered what Master Zucul saw with his Force Sight.

"You are young yet, Initiate Rann," chided his Crèchemaster.

"This was your first attempt. Will there be more?" Rann did not reply immediately. His Crèchemaster did not hurry him, knowing he was a deep thinker.

"Yes, there will be," he said at last. Then he unceremoniously dumped the beads off the board, startling the Crèchemaster.

"You do not wish to keep it?"

"It's not meant to be kept, Master. It's a moment in time – and in the Force, I think – not something meant to be permanent, attached."

"Ah." The Crèchemaster took a moment to reflect.

"Very good, then." Rann frowned at the beads scattered on the table with dread. He shouldn't have cleared them from the board, but something about the action felt right. Wiping away what was there to make room for something new. It made the current mess more difficult, though. Just as he was about to pick up the first bead, he had an idea. He dropped his hand and lifted the yellow bead with the Force, placing it in the proper container. Next, purple.

After the tenth, he decided to try and grab two at a time, or he would be here for another two hours. It was difficult to try and hold onto two distinct objects, especially when they were so small. He chose to grab two green beads since he could move them to the same container. Despite the slow, wobbly journey both made it to the container without incident. By the final beads, he could move three to the same container.

The next day, he managed to convince Master Zucul that his mandala was a form of moving meditation. In the mornings, he created the mandala. In the afternoon, he cleared the board and began the almost-equally slow process of returning the beads. This minor deviation from the norm was noted by his peers and superiors but ultimately regarded as a curiosity, from what he could tell.