Sofazi

Sozafi Zae had the wind knocked out of them as they slammed into the ceiling, and then they braced for a fall that never came. Being violently thrown into the air had been jarring enough, but there’s no way they could be so rattled they’d miss the return trip, could they? They tentatively opened one eye.

The floor loomed over--under?--them. At least the carpet in this penthouse was really soft. Maybe they’d only break one or two ribs, tops. Probably an arm.

“You picked the wrong apartment to rob, kid,” the old togruta woman said with a yawn.

In all the excitement of somehow finding themself pressed to the ceiling, Sozafi had almost forgotten about the person who put her there…

Onoam was beautiful, especially at night, when Naboo could be seen hanging in the sky. Or, Sozafi supposed, Onoam was hanging in Naboo’s sky. There was too much light pollution out there to really see many of the stars tonight, with all of the night culture still going strong, but some nights, when things were calm, Sozafi could still tell they were there. They could draw in the deep air of the sea and feel the galaxy swirling, the hundreds of beings in the city all milling about in gambling dens and restaurants and theaters. This wasn’t really one of those nights. Naboo was nothing but a large teal marble peeking out from behind the heavy grey-black clouds. 

Rain had begun to fall, a light drizzle that made it all the more dangerous to be clinging to the side of a building. Moments earlier, the twenty something scrumrat had miraculously made it to the third floor, scaling the side of the building in a few bounds. It was a talent she had. If they concentrated, and got a running start, they could feel the world at just a slightly different angle. It was liberating to move through a space like that, feeling the ground retreat.

That was how Sozafi made a living as a second-story-neutrois. They were charismatic, and could be charming enough to steal from the tourists, but getting right into the apartments of the wealthy was always a lot more lucrative. Most people wouldn’t bother locking their balcony windows. After all, how would anyone get up there?

That wasn’t the case this time. The mark had actually taken precautions. That was just fine. They pulled out a set of security tools and knelt down at the lock, getting to work. With a little bit of concentration, Sozafi could feel the pins working into the right place, and with a gentle turn, the door opened with an unnoticeable click.

With that out of the way, they slunk into the room, carefully on the lookout for any signs of security. The mark was some kind of criminal, which meant that she wasn’t likely to have anything that would call official security, and the woman didn’t seem to have any backing. When it came to the distinction between legitimacy and criminality, the distinction was often arbitrary, but it was a safe bet that someone with this much money could stand to part with it.

Once the coast was clear enough, Sozafi started looking around for anything important. Credits, obviously, but anything that could fit in their pack and fetch a good price would be worthwhile. They had good instincts for hiding places, and this mark was definitely the kind to use plenty. Several, like the toilet tank or underside of the table, held holdout weapons like a thin barreled concealable blaster or a vibro-knife. They could stay where they were. There were also plenty of credits already tucked into a bug-out bag hidden in a false bottom of a clothes hamper. Sozafi had no need for the handful of fake scandocs for the togruta, so they left those where they were, but the credits would be very useful.

It was an hour into Sozafi’s gentle ransacking that their instincts seemed to lead them astray. Inside another false panel, they found nothing but a strange metal tube. The air of the penthouse seemed to grow cold as the neutrois touched the tube, and pulled it out to better look at it in the light reflecting off of Naboo.

“No way…” they murmured, suddenly afraid of the thing in their hands, like one wrong move would release a swarm of ravenous blister fleas down their arm. Sozafi knew it had only been twenty years or something, but this was practically a relic. And contraband. Suddenly all the scandocs, the bugout bag, it all made sense. But still, something inside of the felt… excitement. They could sense the aura of the device. It practically thrummed in their hand. Sozafi held it out, knowing the danger, and reached their other hand out to fiddle with the controls…

That was when Sozafi found themself Forcibly lifted into the air and pressed against the ceiling. They hadn’t even heard the woman come in, they were so enraptured by the artifact from a more civilized age. The togruta didn’t even look at it, leaving it where it was on the floor.

“Who are you?” She asked, looking up at Sozafi.

“How…”

The togruta rolled her eyes, and dismissively waved her hand with a sigh. Sozafi fell to the floor, shaky but on their feet. They were thankful for the thick carpeting, but they could tell that some Force had lessened the fall. 

“Who are you,” the woman said again, this time more pointedly.

“I’m no one,” Zae coughed out. They cut a glance to the window. The orange-skinned woman was near the door, but if Sozafi could get to the balcony… Her eyes darted back to the erstwhile mark. “You’re a J--”

Before they’d even started to say the word, the togruta spit out “No, I’m not.”

There was a tension in the air. Seemed as good a moment as any to make a break for it.

Unfortunately the scrumrat didn’t get very far. There were no magic tricks this time, but the togruta was fast, and before taking a step further, she was blocking Sozafi, who actually surprised her by throwing a punch. They didn’t connect of course. The togruta on the other hand did, but Sozafi was no stranger to a punch, and rolled with it. It was followed up by a kick that the older woman didn’t seem like she should have been able to make, and Sofazi had to throw up both her arms to catch it with a block. They weren’t going to stay on the defensive, and lashed out with a blow. It didn’t matter what they did, though, her fists always came up short.

A sense of fear started to fill her. This was a legendary warrior. She wasn’t even breaking a sweat. She was toying with them. Sozafi tried to run again, but was jerked back, choked by the collar of their shirt, which ripped as the togruta pulled it. They were spun around, swinging their arm as they did, but once again they hit nothing but air, the woman ducking below the swing, only to throw a series of short, quick jabs to Sozafi’s ribs and breast, knocking the wind out of them.

Breathless, Zae saw the old woman stand up tall and lift her thigh up to her heavy chest and kick out like she was going to stomp flat a can of caff. Sozafi threw up their arms to block, but was still sent tumbling back and sprawling over a chair meant more for decoration than comfort. The chair came with them, and by the time they got right side up, the togruta was back in front of them. 

In a flash of anger, Sozafi remembered the vibro-blade stuck to the bottom of the table, and without even thinking it was in their hand, shooting across the apartment, eliciting a startled gasp from the togruta. They bounded forward, lunging in anger, wanting revenge for all the bruises and pain she’d caused in just the last ninety seconds.

And then a sound like metal shearing erupted, and a thin shaft of brilliant green light aimed itself at Sozafi’s throat, her rage disbursed by the soft hum of the lightsaber blade.

“Force…” the scrumrat murmured with the tone of a swear, the vibro-blade slipping from their hand, forgotten. “You really are a Jedi…”

As if their words were an ion charge, the blade disappeared, and the reverent moment went with it.

“No.” The togruta said through clenched teeth. She took a centering breath, closing her eyes, her brow furrowed. Quieter, she finally added “Not for years now. There are no more Jedi.”

“Tell me everything.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Azasham said, knowing this kid wouldn’t hear how weighed down with weariness her words were as she sipped the caf.

The two had stopped fighting. There wasn’t much point after that. Azasham had tossed her lightsaber aside, and with the same flick of her wrist, both it and the vibro-knife, now deactivated as well, had landed into the chair, which had also righted itself. If she was being honest with herself, Azasham was showing off a little. She hadn’t obviously used the Force like this in… over a decade, at least. And here was this Force Sensitive who had somehow avoided the notice of the empire. Was it because they were here on Onoam? It wasn’t like Palpatine’s home system was free of the bastard’s grip. 

Beneath the tranquil streets and bustling tourist attractions, miners still toiled for the Empire, and while fully armored stormtroopers were unwelcomed by the galaxy’s elite with their vacation condos and chalets, crisply uniformed Imperial officers helped comfort the wealthy after the terrorist assassination of Moff Panaka three years earlier and had never left. Funny how the rich and powerful could be comforted if you just put the agents of imperial violence in a nicer uniform.

Had this guttersnipe managed to stay under the radar for two decades simply because the terrifying black armour and blood-bladed sabers of the Inquisitorius would be too frightening a sight for the members of the ruling class who came to Naboo’s peaceful moon with the luxury of forgetting about partisans and terrorists and unruly systems not yet brought to heel?

Or, maybe, a little ember Ashazam wished would burn out already whispered, maybe it was the will of the Force.

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Am I Jedi?”

Azasham let out a noise that the human neutrois considered rather rude, judging by their facial expression. “No, kid, there’s more to being a jedi than moving things with your mind.”

“Teach me, then.”

“No.”

“You want to,” Sozafi said, more as a statement than a question.

Azasham sipped her caf, not a single muscle moving that didn’t have to.

“I knew it,” the scrumrat said, eyes lighting up.

“I could just kill you,” she offered, only barely hiding her smile.

For a second she thought she might have been a little too stoic as the colour drained from the neutrois’ face. But it was only temporary. They weren’t convinced.

“You could have killed me from the start, but you knew I was a Jedi,” they said, wheels visibly spinning.

Another snort, another glare from the kid. “You’re not a Jedi.”

“Yes I am! You saw it. I pulled that knife to me, and I can sense things.” Sozafi’s wheels spun faster as things fell into place. “And I can run up walls! I just thought I was good at parkour… I can do all that because I’m a Jedi.”

The knife flew from across the room, causing Sozafi to jump as it whizzed by their head. Azasham put it down on the other side of the table from Sozafi.

“Do it again, then, Jedi.”

The knife stayed where it was, no matter how much Sozafi glared at it. They even stretched out a hand, fingers forming a claw, wrist slowly turning. There was grunting. Then, their shoulders slumped in defeat.

"That's what I thought," Azasham murmured.

Something about how she said it must have set Sozafi off. They gave out another growl of frustration and screwed up their face. It happened quickly, a little wiggle at first.

Acting before the vibro-blade even moved, Azasham's hand shot out to catch it. The sharp durasteel blade, luckily unactivated, dug into her palm, and her blood dripped into her mug of caf. For the first time tonight her heart rate had spiked.

Sozafi had once again lost all their anger, looking at the tip of the blade with wide eyes. It had completely ignored their outstretched hand, assuming right for their face. Without Azasham's lightning reflexes, they'd have been dead. The blade was only inches away from splitting their head like a melon.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck", they said jumping up so quick that another chair fell over. Sozafi panicked, looking around the room for something to fix this.

"Stop."

Sozafi did, though the panic didn't go away.

"Towel, by the sink."

They blinked for a moment, then rushed to grab it, holding it out as Azasham slowly opened her hand and let the knife fall. It was a mess, but the cut was clean. All that mattered now was staunching the bleeding, but she winced a little more than necessary, playing up how much it hurt. It would do the kid good to be scared.

"Now go get my medkit," she said, lekku shifting as she jerked her head to the bedroom. "It's in the bag from my hamper."

Once again, the neutrois did as they were told, quicker this time. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad an idea after all.

A few minutes later, as she was gingerly coating her hand in a bacta strip, Sozafi finally spoke up.

"So I guess I am a Jedi, then?" They asked, voice cracking a little.

Azasham couldn't help but laugh. "No."

"Oh come on, seriously?"

"You're untrained, and dangerous. You're sensitive to the Force, but that doesn't make you a Jedi." After a pregnant pause, the corner of her lip curled upward and she added "yet."

Sozafi vibrated like the activated knife, their face splitting in an excited grin.

"You'll need to focus. I could just be training you how to get yourself killed spectacularly. Or I could be creating a monster.”

Sozafi laughed nervously, “A monster? Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

Azasham’s durasteel glare made the scrumrat swallow, but their throat caught.

“You’re untrained, and that makes you dangerous. Which is why I need to train you. But in doing so, I’ll be making you more powerful.” Sozafi’s eyes brightened in a troubling way, though Azasham couldn’t fault them for the feeling. They did have the sense to feel conflicted about that excitement when Azasham gave a sigh. “The Dark Side is strong in you. I can feel it, particularly when you want something. You’ve killed before, haven’t you? Have you ever called upon the Dark Side to do so?”

Azasham wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the answer. Would she have to murder this youngling after all? Would it be easier to spare them being found and turned by the Inquisitorius, or worse, tempted by the Dark Side into abusive relationships, unfocused and untrained as little more than an animal with no restraint?

Sozafi was fidgeting, thinking before they spoke, which was at least a good sign.

“I… I don’t really know. I’ve called upon the Dark Side, I just don’t think I knew it, and always in fights. And I…” They bit their lower lip, chewing it in thought, “I have killed someone. In self-defense. But only twice. Well, once, I’m pretty sure the other guy survived, just never messed with me again. I don’t use it to cheat or steal or anything”

Azasham thought about it for a long moment. What kind of damage had living on the street done? Would the hardships have created a monster? She didn’t want to think that they had, but then again this kid was already growing on her. The eagerness, the excitement. This wasn’t something she had seen from someone in a long time, and certainly not in a Jedi adept.

“You were stealing from me,” She pointed out after considering it.

Sozafi blushed. “Well, I was going to. But you’re not from Onoam. No one who isn’t from around here other than the miners has good intentions. I thought you were just some rich person, and it doesn’t count if you steal from the rich. They all stole it from the poor.” They narrowed their eyes, and looked around, “wait, how did you get the money for a place like this anyway?”

Azasham’s lip curled to show the tips of her pointed teeth. “I stole it from rich people.”

Two days later, Sozafi sat cross legged in a field of blue-green grass across from Azasham, who still seemed to be lost in contemplation.

They’d come to these empty fields for Sozafi’s first lessons. Azasham had asked them to wait two long days, and now was still waiting. At least it was a nice day.

They’d still tried to experiment on their own, just a bit, trying not to get angry as they made a rock rise up from the floor of their poorly kept little one room hovel apartment in the poorer end of the local district. It was frustrating, but knowing that you really can do it tends to make things easier. They hadn’t even bothered to go out running any scams or stealing from anyone, since Azasham had given them enough credits to live off of. An act that mad Sozafi’s eyes go wide, but they never said no to credits.

By the end of those two days, Sozafi was slowly pulling their few bits of furniture round the room telekinetically. Azasham hadn’t seemed impress when they told her, demonstrating by levitating a credit stick. Azasham pulled the stick out of the air and wagged a finger at them, looking around the crowded street outside her much nicer apartment as they walked to the alley where her landspeeder was parked.

“You have to be more careful about where you use your… talents,” she admonished, one orange finger pointing at Sozafi.

The ride had gone by in silence, at least when Sozafi got the hint. And now they were sitting here in the grass, where the city was just a line of colour on the horizon.

Waiting for Azasham to finally make up her mind about what to do, Sozafi once again stretched out with their senses. This, too, they had come to realize, was a part of the Force. They’d never been so far away from the hustle and bustle of Onoam’s crowds. Even at night, the city was thrumming with beings experiencing the city’s nightlife. Here, it was… different. The sun warmed everything, and there was still so much life. Sozafi had never really thought about it, but the grass was alive. There was life in the grass--insects and small lizards and rodents, even nesting birds--but the grass itself was also alive, a hundred pinpricks of light all woven together.

Suddenly another presence eased itself into being. Not necessarily bigger, but deeper somehow. A being that was both aware and aware of her. Tentatively, Sozafi reached out her senses, just barely brushing the edges with her consciousness

“That tickles,” Azasham said, in a rather deadpan voice.

Sozafi opened their eyes and nearly fell over. “That was you?!”

The togruta smiled a toothy smirk, but didn’t open her eyes.

“That was you,” Sozafi said again, righting themself on the blanket. “You’re immense.”

Azasham snorted, and opened one eye, “I haven’t had time to watch my figure,” she said with another grin

Sozafi blushed, “Not like that, I mean…” They motioned incoherently with their hands. “I felt you. In there. In the Force, I guess.”

“In there is everywhere,” she said, finally opening her eyes and relaxing a bit. “You’ve got an awareness of your surroundings. That’s good. That's our first lesson. Are you familiar with midi-chlorians?"

“Aren’t those the folks famous for being bounty hunters?” Sozafi asked.

Azasham paused for the briefest moment in confusion and then continued.

“Midi-Chlorians are symbiotic beings found in all life. They are a part of us, and in turn we are a part of them. They connect us all, and connect to each other. This is the Force. You have the ability to communicate with the midi-chlorians.”

Sozafi had begun to stare at their hand, as if they’d see microscopic bugs crawling on it, giving them super powers. They knew that wasn’t quite how it worked, though. Probably.

“When you move things, you are working through them. When your actions are in balance, you ask them to move the object.” Azasham demonstrated this by levitating the stones around her. It was nothing compared to the outbursts she made the other night, but the control was astounding compared to the wobbling rise that Sozafi had managed. “But you are powerful, and you are not always in balance. Your emotions get the better of you, and that makes you dangerous.”

Sozafi sat quietly, their thoughts swirling. This was a lot to take in. They’d have to take this more seriously than simply throwing rocks around, but that was a lot of responsibility.

“When I’ve found balance, what am I supposed to do with this power?” they wondered, tracking one of the rocks as it made a circuit around Azasham, locking eyes with her for a moment as it passed her face, and then nervously snapping back to the rock’s path. “I mean, the Jedi kept peace, right? But I’m just a burglar.”

Azasham closed her eyes and thought about the question. It wasn’t one she even knew the answer to. What had she been doing with her power? Was she keeping the peace here on Onaom? No. She wasn’t. She was just being a burglar herself, albeit far more skilled than Sozafi would ever be without training. For over a decade now, she had barely been doing more than surviving.

The night came back to her. The night when Hex, Copper, Ransom, and the others had died. The night when the orders they had been born to follow finally came. The blaster fire. The sounds they made as her blades whirred through their plasteel armour. The limbs hitting the ground. She wasn’t sure if it actually was raining on Raxus that night, but she always remembered it that way. 

But no, she hadn’t even been a peace keeper back then, had she? A lightsaber might arguably keep the peace, but an army of clones? Just how much of the war had Palpatine engineered so that the Jedi and their armies would conquer the galaxy for him? There was no peace to be had there, and certainly no peacekeeping involved in ripping off casinos.

So what was the point, then? What reason did Azasham have for teaching this youngling, well past their prime?

She looked at Sozafi, so full of determination, and of anger. It was all too familiar.

Azasham killed another Stormtrooper, sliding past him and slicing him in half. These weren’t the men she had fought with during the Clone Wars. They were sloppy. Even just seeing them wearing those uniforms, making a mockery of the men she served with, irritated her at this point.

“Just die already!’ she shouted in challenge.

She came up from her slide with a flourish and knocked a blaster bolt back where it came, causing a trooper’s head to snap backwards as his bucket helmet was caved in. There was only one left, his knees shaking. Azasham stalked forward through the flames of the building, lazily batting blaster fire away, her shoulders slumped. She was barring her sharp teeth, and could practically see herself from his eyes. With her montrals and lekku, and bloody, mess stained clothes she looked like some kind of a monster from his planet’s legends, a fanged demon

He had been an idealist at firsts, believing that Palpatine and the Empire wanted to bring peace. But by now he knew better, now he had done horrible things in the name of peace, and with the stalking togruta Jedi survivor coming closer, he couldn’t deny it anymore. She looked like something from Hell come to take penance for his sins.

He dropped his blaster and ran. His panicked fleeing was cut short as the armor around his chest crushed inwards, and he was dragged backwards, boots grinding along the dirty floor.

“No, please, no!” he shouted, reaching up to take off his helmet, his modulated voice giving way to the cracking begging of a real person. “I’m sorry!”

The stormtrooper tried to squirm around, still begging for his life.

Azasham glared at him, the icy fury coming off of her choking his screams. She looked into his eyes as the hope, and then life, faded from them. The lightsaber burned his flesh as it cut him smoothly from shoulder to hip, the plasma blade giving just enough resistance that she knew he was there. He held together and whimpered incoherently as he died, stumbling forward. His hands grabbed at Ashasam’s clothes and she watched him, fire still burning. She brought her saber up and stabbed him in the chest, an unneeded move that pushed him away and ended the last few moments of his life.

She looked at him, wound up like a Kodashi viper and nothing else to strike at and fill with the deadly venom other species always expected she had. She looked down at her lightsaber, gripping the hilt so tight her orange fingers became pale. Her anger and hatred for the Empire that took everything from her stretched out and collapsed inward, coalescing into her blade. Streaks of unmistakeable crimson cracked through the viridian like Sith lightning, and the humming lightsaber wavering in pain as it was made to bleed.

The kyber within lashed out, and pain flashed up Azasham’s arm. She dropped the lightsaber to the ground, blade still emitting. She fell to her knees next to it, reaching out trembling fingers.

“I’m so sorry…” she whimpered, wincing as the words left her lips. They sounded so much like that trooper’s words. She touched the hilt, worried that it would turn red again, but the blade stayed green and true. She held the blade up and knelt her head, controlling her breathing and began to meditate.

“The Force is with me. I am with the Force…”

“Whatever you do is up to you,” Azasham said in the present, her voice giving away very little, but still Sozafi sensed there was something more. “I’m only here to teach you balance. Control.”
“Over my powers?”
“No, over yourself. But, yeah, kid. You’ll learn all the cool powers. One day you might even need them. You’ve been incredibly lucky, Force preserve you, but there’s no way that will keep up.”

Over the next several weeks, Azasham put Sozafi through their paces. That first lesson was easy. If there was one thing that Sozafi could do, it was let their mind wander. Sending out their senses to the vastness of the galaxy was a lot easier than dodging heavy durasteel crates that Azasham moved around first back and forth and then in spiral patterns and finally seemingly at random.

Sozafi was still living on their own, but Azasham was loaded, and gave them enough money to afford a decent apartment. Not in the same penthouses that Azasham lived, but now they wouldn’t have to worry about getting stabbed when they were leaving. That had only ever happened once, and it wasn’t deep, but the new place was much better without having to worry about that.

After a few weeks of meditating and concentrating, trying to learn how to lift things of their own, and dodging crates as big as they were, Azasham finally started to give Sozafi “lightsaber” training. Except she didn’t want to give her the actual thing just yet. First to learn the forms, they had to use a collapsible baton.

“It’s the same thing,” Azasham teased, a baton in one hand and her lightsaber in the other. Sozafi felt the Force as Azasham extended the baton with it while igniting the lightsaber. “See?”

Then she turned the one off and let the other collapse. She tossed the less impressive of the two to her apprentice. At one point Sozafi might have been caught off guard, but now their reflexes had been sharpened and they flicked it out in the same motion as the catch.

“Yeah, I feel just like a jedi now,” they replied, waggling the security weapon in a way that didn’t at all seem threatening.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. We’re starting with forms, you won’t need to swing a laser sword around. “We’ll start with Shii-Cho, the Way of the Sarlaac. This is the first form that a Jedi learns, from the days when lightsaber combat was new…”

After that, each day added an additional lesson. Meditation. Stretching. Avoiding obstacles. Lightsaber forms. Meditation. Blaster training. Concentration. Combat training, with and without a weapon.

It was grueling, and each night Sozafi would go to bed sore and smiling. There was a meaning to it all. It was different from simply stealing from the rich and pawning their junk and hoping to make it through the week. Every day was another push forward to something.

Every so often, at intervals Sozafi could only guess at, they were given a reprieve from lessons, and left to their own devices, often with the instruction to practice some form maneuver or sophisticated telekinetic trick. Running a rock through some maze without touching the side or juggling objects with their mind. These reprieves would happen once every week or two, and could sometimes last days.

Sozafi had figured out by now that Azasham was actually some kind of a criminal, and that she often went off world, but it was still a shock when they were commed after a week long hiatus by a grunting and pained sounding Azasham.

 “Kid…” her voice came from the speaker, distorted and crackling. “Get to my apartment. Hurry.”