Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe and its characters belongs to the Walt Disney Company and Lucasfilm. The following is a fanfiction residing in that universe, with some mentions of people and places in the current canon. I am not receiving payment for this project.

The first pillar: emotion and expression are the hearths that burn in the heart of every sentient being… – Book of the Grey Codes, Tenets & Values, Master Jedar of Tatooine

Our robes are grey, and stitched into the fine fabric are our names in an ancient language that even Master Jedar cannot identify. Yet, somehow, he speaks and writes with a native fluency. I can often hear him in his quarters whispering to himself in that tongue, so rhythmic, so poetic, but foreign to my ears. The other Masters fear this power. The Council holds deliberations almost weekly, discussing what they deem to be troubling behavior from my Master. He has told me not to be concerned, but concerned I am. How can I not when I love him so, as a brother, as a father even?

Entilla is the only one among the Masters that appreciates our outlook, both in aesthetic and in practice. Our attire is, after all, not the usual brown and tan fare. Neither do our ideologies always align with the Council’s wishes. Despite him possessing the most open mind, Entilla, too, voices his misgivings. But Master Jedar is a stubborn man above all else. I hope that his headstrong nature does not prove to be fatal.

I sit in my chambers with the grey light of morning streaming through the only window. Meditation has, for as long as I can remember, served me well. The intense focus provides a welcome distraction to the banalities of which the Council has burdened my Master and me. Tasks that should be given to new recruits, or those still in the midst of their initial training. The stone floor is cool but not bracing, and a soft breeze caresses my skin. My eyes are open. Unusual for one that is supposed to be meditating, but then, I am a most unique sort. To my left is an automatic door with a keylock, which beeps at random intervals. In front of me lies my cot. The mattress lacks healthy padding, and my back frequently pays for it. I smile. Master had offered to upgrade my bedding, but to his chagrin, I refused. My lightsaber rests next to me. Its metal handle shines in the light, and the ruby power button sparkles like a glittering gem.

I had chosen my crystal carefully when Master first led me to the forge. Green carried a legendary legacy—the memory of a family redeemed by Luke Skywalker. Blue possessed its own stories: Anakin’s rise and eventual fall as Darth Vader, the very man who brought down the Jedi near the end of the Clone Wars. I decided then that my destiny should be of my own choosing, and the color of my lightsaber should mirror that choice.

Fortune gave me a white crystal. At its heart was a tinge of grey. I grin at the recollection. My Master’s pride was plain when he looked to me, features weathered by time and old grief. He placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “One day, you and I will be the change the Jedi needs.”

We are not ready for that. Not yet.

The door to my chambers opens with a hiss. Master Jedar stands at the threshold. He is tall and massive, corded muscles bulging beneath his robes. His dark beard is speckled with silver, which matches the hair on his head. As he smiles, wrinkles spread like forked rivers across his tanned face.

“How goes your meditation, Renden?” he asks in his usual gruff tone.

“As well as can be expected, Master,” I reply. He chuckles. “What brings you here?”

He scratches his head. “The Council has assigned us a new mission, my young Padawan. One that I did not take too kindly. Mind you, they did not take my displeasure kindly, either.”

“And this dissatisfactory mission would be…?”

“Jakku. We’re meant to find a girl there. Someone who is rather sensitive to the Force. They want to try and recruit her. Master Entilla believes she is orphaned.”

Shifting out of my meditation, I stand and raise a brow. “How is this so unpleasant for you?”

He crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe. His face seems to resonate pain but not of the physical kind. Something troubles him beyond the mission’s objective. I approach him, peering into his silvery eyes. “Master?”

He clears his throat and blinks as though he were coming out of a daydream. Lost in his own thoughts again. He’s been doing that more and more often. There is a future he sees that others cannot. It plagues him.

“It’s nothing, Renden. We leave as soon as you are ready.” Without another word, he turns and leaves down the corridor, and the automated doors to my chambers shut.

We take an older Correlian vessel to Jakku. Most of the journey is done through hyperspace. We blaze through the stars and dust and passed several solar systems before we arrive at our destination. A desert planet not dissimilar to Tattooine. As the ship shudders and groans entering the upper atmosphere, it takes but a glance to wonder if there is any life on Jakku at all. It is barren, the surface like an ocean of sand and dunes arcing in the pattern of waves. However, my initial impression fades when we land. There was a battle. Imperial Destroyers with their trademark arrowhead design are buried deep in the sands, some half broken and others shattered into pieces.

Signs of the former Rebellion are here as well. A-wings and B-wings in the same sorry state as the Destroyer. We exit the ship and are met with a stifling heat. Immediately, I tune into the Force, stretching out as far as I can and picking up no signs of life aside from ourselves.

“We’re alone,” comments Master Jedar. He kneels next to a smashed X-wing. A pilot’s helmet rests nearby. “Seems the Rebels were no match for the Empire.”

I look to him, trying to see any hints as to his current frame of mind. But his focus has returned here, to the present, and for this, I heave a sigh of relief. He mistakes it for frustration.

“Not to worry, Renden. We’ll just go back to the ship and scour the surrounding area for any towns or cities.”

We do as he suggests. Eventually, we happen upon a settlement. After some brief discussions with the locals, who looked worse for wear, we discover that the place is called Niima Outpost. The outpost houses several little shops covered by tattered tents. An assortment of miscellaneous wares are sold but none hold the quality for which I am accustomed. A girl lives here, we find, orphaned, being cared for by the junk boss, Unkar Plutt. His residence is a circular structure composed of rusted metal. If he can be convinced, we should be able to take her and make a swift exit. A graveyard for ships piques my interest, surrounded by wired fencing and a rudimentary arch serving as the entrance and exit. Among the rubble, one ship is covered by a tan tarp. It seems so familiar, and this sense of familiarity rustles a memory in the back of my mind, though I cannot touch on any specific details.

Master Jedar pulls me out of my reverie by grasping my shoulder. He begins an explanation.

“The girl is out hunting for parts. This Unkar Plutt assures me that she will come back soon.”

“So we wait?”

“So we wait.” We find seats at a table where a few of the denizens are scrubbing clean various pieces, small and large. They ignore us, content to do their work and nothing else. A tiny but perceptiple ripple moves through the Force. I can feel Jedar bristle. The girl, perhaps. But as I delve deeper, I realize it is more sinister in nature.

“Others are here for the girl,” mutters Jedar. Sweat beads down his forehead. Movement beneath his robe indicates that he is reaching for his lightsaber. I follow his lead.

“Be ready, my apprentice.”