The Kids Aren't Alright, [Jedi Mission] Padawans Unyte!

Sine stepped off the Jedi-marked shuttle to meet the leader of the Corbosian colony. The atmosphere fit the newly arrived colonists-supplies being loaded off varuious freighters, people filing out of huge freighters. About 800 men and women and their children came to set up this new home. It was a huge project, and it had been done four times before. The company that headed these colonation efforts had somehow managed to fund this one without going bankrupt. Twenty years ago the first attempt started, and now there was another.

Sine had to hand it to them, they were tenacious.

The breeze rolled in, causing him to close his eyes and draw a deep breath, enjoying life. He opened them to find a blue sky, dotted with pleasant-looking clouds, and there were several reptilian birds in the air.

The grass was green on the area they wanted to start on-a slithly hilly, but relatively flat area flanked by huge mountains to the east and west. From here they could acess the rich mining areas to the North and the lakes to the south. Water and income in one.

Sine cleared the ramp and threw his Jedi senses out. The leader of the place-his presence was one with a great vitality-was turning the corner from the other side of the shuttle. He turned to Ank, Callan, and Seras. "You guys ready?" He asked with a smile.

Before he could get anything else in to his peers, the leader and his posse rounded the corner of the Lambda-class shuttle. The leader-Sine was at loss of what to call him besides that-was almost as tall as a Mandalorian Sine had met, and just as muscular. He had a scar on his forehead and his eyes were intense and passionate. A great leader, menat for armies. Why was he here?

"Welcome!" He cried in a booming voice. He ran forward to shake Sine's hand and shook all of the Padawan's hands in turn. "Welcome, welcome! I am President Nykonos Fyura. It is an honor to welcome Jedi to my new colony."

He turned to Sine once more. "What may I call all of you?" He asked cheerily.

Sine bowed slightly. "I am Sine Boral, Padawan." Fyura nodded vigorously and turned to Seras "And you?" he asked her.

Padawan Seras Amadis remained within the steel-skinned confines of the shuttle as her brethren departed for the lush vistas of Corbos. Still harnessed into the rather uncomfortable seat with her chin planted against her sternum, Seras' mind was elsewhere. Reaching out, delicate fingers groped the cold steel clasps and locks that held her in place. With a twist, she heard the gears within the central lock of the harness disengage and release. The straps and fell away. She remained a moment longer and tried to centre her thoughts.

With the softest of smiles upon her lips, she took a deep breath through her nose and slowly raised her head. She held the breath, focusing upon it until her chest became tight. Exhaling slowly, Seras tilted her head back further. With her features angled towards the bare ceiling of the shuttle, her head rolled on her shoulders and the padawan hesitantly stood. A little unsteady on her feet, padawan Amadis put it down to inactivity and ran a hand through her hair, tussling the thick strands of bound hair and braids and let them fall about her shoulders. There was a new addition to the ensemble of trinkets and charms that adorned her hair. An azure gemstone confined in fine silver wire hung from a leather thong secured deep within her platinum blonde tresses. The sapphire was given a prominent role and rested low on her right cheek. Straightening the coarse fabric of her robes and patting herself down, she rushed to join the other padawans outside the shuttle.

"You guys ready?"

To Sine's question she simply shrugged her shoulders. Paying a little more attention to her surroundings now and the task that they had been charged with, Seras sighed. Although she hadn't voiced her dissent earlier, Seras Amadis didn't want to be here. There were more important things she could do with her time. There were still those in the infirmaries that required her touch. The sliver of knowledge that forced its way into her mind from their time in the archive had caused constant speculation and wonder. The thoughts kindled and grew into a sustaining fire that demanded her attention lest it be extinguished. Seras wasn't about to let that happen.

Having spotted the man approaching them before he fell into any of their eye lines, Seras straightened her posture, folded her hands into her robes, and lowered her head. Taking a moment to observe his approach, she read his aura. The flickering field of lights and sparks of illumination that only a handful in the galaxy could view told the young padawan a great deal about the man that approached them. She smiled softly at the good nature that poured through the ether and washed across her.

Welcome! Welcome, welcome! I am President Nykonos Fyura. It is an honor to welcome Jedi to my new colony."

Smiling awkwardly and suppressing the slight pain his overzealous handshake had caused, padawan Amadis slid her hand back into her robes and made a mental note to keep them there. She couldn't blame Fyura though, he had not acted in malice. Besides, the excitement at his endeavour was plain to see. However, Seras wasn't so sure his excitement was properly placed. It was common knowledge that settling Corbos was a fool's errant. None of the colonies survived and the stories had taken a life of their own. That was why they were here, hopefully a Jedi presence, even that of a padawan, would be enough to supplicate a peaceful colonisation and dispel once and for all the curse of Corbos.

"What may I call all of you?"

"I am Sine Boral, Padawan."

"And you?"

Taking a small step forward, the padawan bowed respectfully. Her slender form was in direct comparison to the slab of muscle standing before them. When bowing, her stature seemed even less, barely coming to his waist.
"Padawan Amadis at your service, President Fyura,", she intoned softly with her head still bowed.

Ankallem had been ready to get off the ship from the moment they had all piled in back at the temple. Before the engines were even shutdown he was standing at the door ready to stretch his wings in the open skies once more. His large frame wasn’t built for such tight places and as soon as the sun shined through the open hatch he moved into a complicated and embarrassing crouch as he exited the ship, his wings brushing the top of the doorframe. He hadn’t been responsible for much during the trip, he was one of the less qualified pilots among the cadre of padawans so for most of the trip he’d been a big brooding statue. Outside of the cold confines of the ship though he couldn’t resist a smile as he took to the skies for a quick stretch of his wings.

As he soared through the clear skies above the settlers’ make shift camp his alien eyesight made out the surrounding area with a depth of clarity few other races could match. Like the winged lizards he kept company with he circled the encampment in curiosity, though his intrigue was somewhat more productive. The settlers had chosen a new camp within the same great crater that had housed the previous attempts at colonization. It was hardly beautiful, walled on all sides by great cliff faces but it was rich in ores and it offered the bare essentials of survival. Though he could make out the deserted camps in the distance Ank couldn’t see anything that may have caused their failure. Ank hoped it was an enemy he could fight, pirates or monsters or some such. Even armed and armored as he was there was little he could do to stop a plague or draught.

His muscles loosened and his mood rejuvenated, Ankallem began a slow spiral down to where his peers were introducing themselves to the settlers. As he circled he pulled a train of the winged-reptiles with him, sending out waves of amusement and interest through the Force. The spiraling line of wings continued until he drew close to the energetic work of the men and women below him and the animals returned to the safety of the skies above. Ank continued his descent alone and settled a few steps behind his fellow Jedi.

Folding his wings to crown over his head and stepping forward Ankallem moved to the right of Seras and offered a hand to the human who had been making the introductions. He hadn’t caught the man’s name but Seras addressed him as “President Fyura”. As for the Miraluka, Ank had spoken to her little since their heated exchange in the library, they were on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum and she was every bit as stubborn as he.

The difference was obvious even to strangers such as Fyura and the settlers. Seras stood head bowed and arms folded, apparently unarmed, her soft voice matching the visage. Ank towered over her in his newly acquired armor, a Jedi Katana strapped at his waist along with his discblade and lightsaber. The hand that had engulfed Seras’ was in turn engulfed by Ank’s own and when the Stenax spoke it was gruff and guttural. “President Fyura, Ankallem” he offered the man a slight nod of the head but omitted the ‘Padawan’ in his succinct hello. Fyura, to his credit, kept his smile fixed firmly on his face and he didn’t miss a step in continuing the introductions. Behind him a small crowd had gathered to catch a glimpse of their Jedi chaperons.

A golden light flickered in the darkness, creating strange, blazing shapes in the black. Soon it was joined by tiny, round flecks of blue and smears of glittering silver. The colors were warm, and vibrant enough that any being would have thought them tangible objects rather than figments of an imagination.

A short moment passed, and the colors became an orchestra of oranges and yellows, reds and greens. A noise interrupted the music, dimming the volume and intensity of rainbow. Slowly, it slipped away. The familiar, black void filled its place, and Kyenna sighed; she’d lost her concentration, again.

Years with Cassandra had drilled the mental exercise into her subconscious, and whenever she was sitting still, her mind slipped into the meditation. At the beginning of her apprenticeship, things had always been black and empty. Now she could fill the dark canvas with beautiful colors and sounds, a sure sign of her improvement. But even now, after nearly a decade of training, she often lost the orchestra to outside distractions. Distractions like the ship door opening to let in the bright, daytime light.

Corbos. The myths that surrounded the planet were intimidating. Thunderstorms that created deathly conditions, rendering entire portions of the planet useless for colonization. “Black Rain Storms”, past natives called them. Natives seemed an unfitting word for such a place. No one really had succeeded in living here for any long period of time. And besides the thunderstorms, there were other rumors that enveloped Corbosian history. The Kiffar would avoid thinking about the latter, for now.

The others were already gathered near the ship, greeting a representative. Kyenna unconsciously counted them—there were only three. Four padawans should have been present besides herself. A few seconds later, Ankallem landed gracefully beside Seras. Kyenna didn’t approve of his inappropriate flight practice, but didn’t deem the issue important enough for attention. Instead she exited the ship, and offered her hand to President Fyura.

When there skin touched, a series of impressions entered her thoughts. All of the were expected. Pride. Hope. Pleasure. Anxiety. As soon as he removed his grip, the emotions flooded out of her.

“President Fyura. I am Kyenna Vyr . Thank you for allowing our presence here.” She smiled warmly.

Callan was slightly disappointed when the ship carrying all of the Padawans came to a halt on the ground of Corbos. After Gavin Tarre's unfortunate death in a starship malfunction, Callan had been reasonably afraid of flying. Recently, though, he had begun to get over his fear. He'd even contemplated purchasing his own ship so that he could fly on his own.

When the hatch to the outdoors opened, the bright light temporarily blinded the Padawan. Callan assumed that everyone else was having the same problem, except for Seras of course, and felt no shame in sheilding his eyes from the bright sun. He stepped off of the ship almost last in line of his friends.

In Callan's mind, this mission absolutely had to be a complete success. Since discovering the true identity of his father, Callan felt for some reason as if he had to impress the man. So far, the only people other than himself who knew who his father was were Masters Marin and Norghar. Callan had elected to not tell any of his fellow Padawans as of yet. Eventually, he assumed, he would feel obliged to let at least Seras and Sine know...it seemed as though he was closest to the two of them...even if he and Sine did tend to compete with eachother at any given opportunity.

At the thought of Seras, he stole a quick glance in her direction. She had just finished introducing herself to President Fyura. The young Corellian had been having issues for quite a while now on deciding on his feelings for the Miraluka. He considered her a friend, certainly. What he was unsure of though, was if his feelings that went deeper than that contradicted his lifestyle as a Jedi Knight.

He shrugged the thoughts off, knowing in his heart that the Force would guide him in the right direction. There was no use mulling over things like that. In time, they would work out in one way or another.

When the President made his way to Callan, the Padawan extended his hand and shook with the instantly likeable man. He seemed very warm and genuine, both in the Force and in personality.

"Callan Lash. It's nice to meet you, sir."

The President responded with a more-than-cheery smile to each of the Padawan's name, and didn't even blink when Ank dropped out of the sky. He just smiled broader.

The men with him, however, weren't so brave. One jumped back with a shout and the rest flinched and froze. Sine, through years of learning to control his emotions, barely managed not to smile at the antics. Instead of showing his amusement, he called the President's attention to himself and said, "President Fyura, while I am sure that you would like to guide us on a tour of your new colony, there is a lot of work yet to be done. Please, allow us to help in any way possible." He said, humbly.

Actually, he just wanted to sit and watch the people, but the Padawans had discussed it on the way and decided that it would be best if they worked to help with the unloading before they went to fulfill their studying required of them. It'd keep up the Jedi order's image as selfless, grateful people.

It'd also cause people not to be so afraid of Ankellam.

The President chewed on this for a moment and declared, "Very well! If it's work you want, it's work you'll get!" with a twinkle in his eye, he turned. "Sera and Kyenna, you two will be working with the children-the women need a little bit of help." Fyura pointed to a gaggle of kids running by with three women in attendance. "They need to herd them over to the temporary living areas."

"Callan, Sine, and Ankellam, you will come with me. We've got some Manual labor for you." Sine repressed a groan. The President smirked and turned, walking through the men who were following him. Sine followed, casting a discontent look at Callan.

She felt his gaze upon her in only a way that someone so in tune with the Force could. It was only for a second, hardly even that, but she had noticed. While still facing forward and showing no signs of realisation, Seras watched Callan join up with them through her mind's eye. A smile touched her lips and Seras reached up and caressed the gemstone nestled in her hair.

Ankallem's approach from the sky wasn't unexpected and Seras didn't bat the proverbial eyelid as he touched down within the group. She did note, however, that Ankallem did like to make an entrance. He seemed to like the attention and every eye in the room to be upon him. Seras didn't mind, far from it. Next to the stenax she was barely even noticed. Disliking the limelight, Seras was pleased to be in his imposing shadow.

"President Fyura, while I am sure that you would like to guide us on a tour of your new colony, there is a lot of work yet to be done. Please, allow us to help in any way possible."

Seras raised an eyebrow, frowned, and kept her thoughts to herself. She would have liked a tour. Sine's impatience may have been for the best, Seras concluded. It seemed that he didn't want to be here any more than she did. Once they finish whatever it was they had to do here, Seras could return to the archives. They still drew her attention, even now. Even as she stood on an alien planet, the stacks of the Jedi archives called out her name and beckoned her return.

"Very well! If it's work you want, it's work you'll get! Sera and Kyenna, you two will be working with the children-the women need a little bit of help. They need to herd them over to the temporary living areas."

The frown in her brow deepened into a ploughed furrow. Sera? Her lip curled into a semblance of a smile. She didn't give her first name and couldn't remember any of the others using it around President Fyura. And he had gotten it wrong. Whatever, Seras thought to herself, doesn't matter. Her head didn't move as she observed the direction in which the president pointed in. She saw the half-dozen life forms moving energetically in the distance. Peace and quiet would have been preferred, but babysitting wouldn't be too bad. She had a good rapport with the younglings and initiates of the Order before they received their murderous indoctrination.

The president continued to speak but Seras wasn't listening any more. After waiting a moment for Kyenna, she began towards the prefabricated structures in the distance with little word. Turning her ethereal view to Kyenna briefly, she wondered if she was a kindred spirit. It would have been nice to find someone to prove Juneau wrong.

Nereus had never really developed more than a mild interest for piloting – his interest were more of the Academic type – unlike his late Master who’d enjoyed pulling aerial stunts with childish glee. Now that he’d been transferred to the tutelage of Master Marin, however, he’d come to share her opinion that piloting was going to be an essential skill if he was ever to become a diplomat for the Order like he’d been determined to become since his parent’s murder all those years ago. The Kiffar’s gloved hand rubbed over the spot where he’d once been branded reflexively, as he seemed to do every time he remembered the days of his early childhood. A musical thrill from the droid that had been his copilot for the trip took his attention away from the reminiscence and he checked the controls one last time before powering down the shuttle. He’d been the pilot for the trip, aiming to get a little experience on a route that was reputed as one of the safest of the galaxy – besides, even if the Order’s power had waned over the last century, very few were foolish enough to dare attacking a ship bearing the mark of the Jedi.

Getting up from his seat and stretching his fatigued limbs, the Consular repressed a yawn: the other might have been able to rest as they wanted during the trip, but Nereus had only snatched minutes here and there when the droid could handle piloting on its own. He wasn’t going to fall over by any stretch of the imagination but the Kiffar was really looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Passing a tired hand through his braided hair, the padawan typed a code into a console and the door leading to the shuttle’s main compartments slid open. The ramp was already down and the fact that the room was empty of his companions meant they were somewhere outside already – apparently waiting for him hadn’t been much of a priority when breathing fresh air again was an option, he reflected dryly. Far from offended, he exited the ship in a flurry of brown robes, lightsaber slung on his back and looking like any other staff, feeling the cool breeze on his face with pleasure.

The landscape was a bit too much on the dry side for his tastes – sand and rocks always drudged up unpleasant memories of Tatooine – but after all the time locked up in the Lambda-class shuttle he was glad to be outside anywhere. Letting his eyes wander on the colonial settlement, Nereus kept getting the impression he’d already been there. Pushing aside the feeling – one of the downsides of his psychometry was that he kept getting strange notions like this – the golden-eyed adolescent’s gaze swept the crowd in search of his comrades. Settling on the Jedi-garbed silhouettes that were speaking to a tall man with passionate eyes, he made his way towards the rest of the group unhurriedly, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of freedom that spanned from walking around after long hours of piloting. Deciding to do so mostly out of curiosity, the Kiffar probed his surroundings gently, interested into what the presence of the colons would feel like. The feedback of enthusiasm and excitement was almost overwhelming in its intensity: whoever the leader of this community was, he was succeeding marvellously to keep the settlers motivated.

Moving his mind towards his companions, Nereus took a second to gauge their own mental state. He wasn’t really familiar with Sine Boral – he’d heard of him mostly from Callan’s recounting of their sparring matches - but the cheerfulness and goodwill that rolled off from him in waves led the Consular to believe they would get along perfectly well. The presence emanating from his fellow Kiffar – Kyenna, he believed her name was – was more complicated. It was hard to pin down, like trying to grasp mist with a bare hand, but kindness and thoughtfulness could still be felt. Callan’s presence, like always, burned brightly of the unwavering will and determination he’d come to associate with his closest friend. One of the things Nereus had always marvelled about was how clear Callan’s mind was in the Force – it spoke volumes of his friend’s character. Last, but certainly not least, was Seras. He’d thought much more about Padawan Amadis than was proper these last few weeks, and rarely lost an opportunity to speak with her. It wasn’t only because of his… infatuation – he had to admit it was there, to his eternal shame – for the Miraluka either: her peaceful, gentle presence was soothing to be around. It kept the harsher of the visions from his acquired memories away even when he relaxed his mental shields. There was also the fact that she was one of the only people of his age he’d met whose thought process he could not predict accurately. It made her quite fascinating, really, though sometimes he wondered if it had more to do with her being a woman than anything else.

Nereus Sark had several hundred year’s worth of male memories swimming in his mind, so he knew he was irrefutably right when he said that no man had ever, or would ever, manage to understand women.

"Callan, Sine, and Ankallem, you will come with me. We've got some manual labour for you."

By the time he’d reached the others, he was greeted with that strange announcement. Were they really going to be doing manual labour around the colony, he wondered with mild bewilderment? Nereus was no stranger to work, as he helped around in the Temple’s gardens when done with the usual chores that came with being a padawan, but that wasn’t the purpose of their visit on Corbos: they were here to ensure nothing disrupted the colony itself. Their time would have been better spent surveying the premises and gauging the mentality of the settlers. No one knew what had made all previous attempts to colonize Corbos fail; it was their duty to investigate the matter. As he was about to continue questioning the reasoning behind Boral’s – he assumed the older human had taken the lead since he held seniority – decision to make them evade their duties, he caught the wary and almost fearing look a nearby worker gave to Ankallem’s muscular form. It probably didn’t help that to add to his fearsome appearance the padawan was armed like a small army, the Kiffar mused cheerfully.
Sine wants the civilians to get used to Ank’s presence before we do anything else, he understood in a flash of clarity. It was rather clever of the padawan, Nereus thought, and he felt his respect for the human rise slightly.

“And who would you be?” the tall man asked him merrily.

“Padawan Nereus Sark, it’s pleasure to meet you,” the golden-eyed adolescent answered in a similar tone as he shook the man’s hand.

Seeing the two female padawans heading toward a group of children being herded unsuccessfully by older women, the Kiffar spoke again.

“I suppose I’ll go with them to keep the groups even,” he offered before shooting a rueful look at the muscles sported by the other three padawans, “besides, it appears I’m rather skinny compared to these three.”

He was sent on his way by the leader’s agreeing nod, sparing a moment to shoot an amused look at Callan before jogging to catch up with Seras and Kyenna. The Miraluka’s presence felt unsettled and almost depressed, he noticed almost immediately, and even without his extra perceptions the frown on her pale face would have been enough to tell him the thoughts whirling in that strange mind of hers weren’t the pleasant kind. Catching up to his friend, Nereus spoke up softly as they neared the group of children.

“Credit for your thoughts, Seras?”

Ankallem had been stuck cleaning empty rooms and repairing the Enclaves extensive army of servant droids until he’d managed to get back in the Council’s good graces and become a Jedi Padawan once more. Since then He’d followed Master Rumare on a series of missions that ended up little more than long hikes in interesting scenery. Now, on his first mission without a master, a security mission no less, he got to clean and repair with different scenery. The life of a Jedi was proving far less thrilling than he had envisioned. Still, he was better off than the women. Breasts and ovaries seemed to scream ‘child-rearing’ to the settlers and now perfectly good Jedi were being wasted on brats.

Ank didn’t comment when Sine volunteered them or when they began to be led towards the ships still waiting to be unloaded. When Nereus left them to join the women in babysitting he did speak though. “A spirit to match the body it seems.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like the Kiffar, well he didn’t like the Kiffar, but it wasn’t solely that. Distaste for combat, though alien to the Stenax, was a common trait held by several Jedi but to rather deal with children than work up a good sweat with the men was unfathomable.

Ank kept pace with the men while he watched Nereus lazy jog towards his companions and the nursery they were headed towards. Ank felt for Kyenna, he didn’t know much about the padawan but unless she was a moody pacifist he couldn’t imagine her enjoying the company much. Nereus was the consummate Consular, irritating to Ank but not exactly a surprise. Since working with Titch he was better at dealing with Jedi like Nereus. Seras on the other hand, managed to aggravate other Jedi with her extreme pacifism. For the Stenax padawan, on the other end of the ideological spectrum, her existence fought against his very own existence. It was impossible for him to see that they were two different sides of the same Jedi coin. He got uncomfortable just being around her.

At the ships the three padawan Guardians could see the entrance to the mines, a series of caves where most of the equipment and boxes were headed. Bigger than most and with a little aid from the Force Ank ignored the machinery and settled on walking back and forth between the ships and mines. Groups were already moving in and out of the dark caves, the search for wealth beginning before they were even settled on the planet. Ank didn’t envy them, as a winged being he wasn’t a big fan of low ceilings, it made Shedu Maad an interesting place. It wasn’t quite claustrophobia, just a natural preference for the use of his wings the same way he’d want to be able to use his arms or legs.

Quick judgements had always been Kyenna’s specialty. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” That particular quote was purely ridiculous. Every author designed their novel’s cover to catch the attention of a certain audience. A person’s mannerisms, their body language, their choice of dress and hygiene and the words they used when speaking—every last outward detail revealed what resided on a person’s inside. Of course, some circumstances arose in which this method of judgment was flawed. Kyenna carefully ensured that she was not close-minded, but the simple fact was that first impressions mattered and were often correct.

Normally, when Kyenna found fault with a Master, she kept her opinion to herself. But here, in the Corbosian colony, there was no need to repress her feelings towards the other padawans, and several of them had already made their impressions.

Sine was a childhood friend, trusted and respected, if a little brash. Kyenna liked Seras: she seemed calm, cool-headed, and was one of the few members of their current group not to have testosterone issues. Callan had, so far, been on his best behavior, curbing his usual open enthusiasm. Nereus interested her—the padawan girl rarely interacted with others of her species. Later, she wanted to ask him about the development of his psychometric abilities. And then, Ank. Kyenna’s fondness for him was slight. But more than him, President Fyura annoyed her, although she wouldn’t let that particular dislike show through.

“Sera and Kyenna, you two will be working with the children-the women need a little bit of help. They need to herd them over to the temporary living areas.”

Herd them? Last Kyenna had checked woman and children did not qualify as cattle. And she did not appreciate the obvious gender division. Children did not appeal to her. If every woman was born with natural maternal instincts, those genes had skipped the Kiffar padawan. Perhaps it was being raised by Cassandra, or perhaps it was simply her inherited personality. But kids and women involved slow understanding and a higher degree of patience. In truth, she would have preferred the straightforwardness and logic of manual labor. But her mission was not to disagree with President Fyura, but to perform the tasks expected of her. So she smiled briefly in response before following Seras’s lead.

Nereus—Kyenna caught his name from the conversation he was holding with the President—was suddenly running over to them. He addressed Seras, and Kyenna listened passively, allowing the two friends to catch up.

Callan couldn't believe that Sine had actually volunteered all of them for manual labor. It wasn't as if he was opposed to the work, by any means, but carrying boxes wasn't exactly in the mission parameters. The Jedi were here to defend and protect the colonists from anything that could be a danger to them in their new home. Of course, as long as there was no immediate danger, there was no harm in helping them out whenever they could.

Callan glanced over at Nereus just in time to catch the look from his friend, and the smile that came along with it. Callan didn't have time to respond with a smile in kind, so he sent the Kiffar a small, playful shove through the Force with just enough Force that Nereus would know that he was only joking around.

The walk to the area where Callan, Sine, and Ankallem would be loading and unloading boxes was relatively quiet, a fact that was not lost on Callan in the slightest. In fact, he nearly slid into a day dream while walking, but was interrupted by the deep, booming voice of the Stenax.

“A spirit to match the body it seems.”

The Guardian's head swiveled around just in time to see that the remark was directed at the retreating figure of Nereus. Callan was normally a very anti-confrontational person, especially among his fellow Jedi, but when it came to Nereus, he was different. Not only was Sark the one person in the Order whom Callan considered close enough to be his brother, but Nereus had also stuck up for Callan when he'd needed help on numerous occasions. Nereus was Callan's best friend, and Force be damned if he was going to stand by and let him be insulted when he wasn't even around to stick up for himself.

The Onderonian Padawan turned to his right and looked calmly up at the massive winged figure walking along beside him. While most people in the galaxy would be intimidated by the Stenax, Callan was confident enough in himself, and in the fact that Ank would not react violently, to speak his mind to the large Padawan. When he spoke, his voice was controlled, with just enough edge in it to get across the point that he was serious.

"Back off, Ank. Not all of us can be an eight foot pile of muscle."

Confident that his point had been made with those simple words, Callan returned his gaze to the front and made his way towards the loading docks with the other two. While he certainly didn't want an argument with Ank, he would do whatever it took to stand up for his friend. Ank was welcome to his opinion, but Callan would stand up for what he believed to be the right course of action, especially for his brother.

Nereus Sine didn't know very well. Callan was a firend form childhood-they could always joke around about things, talk about last week's training session, talk about sports. They always had had the smae interests and competed for that-in a good way. Ank was an oddity among the padawans, but that didn't mean Sine didn't admire and respect him from time to time.

Both were better friends with him that Nereus was. But Ank opened his toothed mouth and said, “A spirit to match the body it seems.” Sine didn't know what it meant at first. He kept his gaze directed towards what they would be doing for a moment. Then Callan responded with a little venom in his voice.

It clicked, then. Sine turned to Ank and Callan with a pleading look, and asked, "Let's not fight, guys. We're supposed to be working together." If the president noticed the internal conflict, he didn't mention it. He turned to Sine, who looked at him in response. "Move these boxes from here to the cave mouth. They will be picked up by our people and moved to their apprpriate places." He said. He gestured to the boxes behind him; at least ahundred stacked up in ten rows. Not very big, but enough to strain the male padawan's muscles. A good workout, Sine thought.

"Thank you, President Fyura. It'll be done in an hour." Sine said, bowing his head politely. The President grinned broadly and shook Sine, Callan, and Sine's hands, then left with his posse.

Callan, Sine, and Ank werel eft all alone in their own little corner of the galaxy, free to do their work. The cave mouth was only a hundred feet away; here they could talk without fear of being listened in on.

Sine took off his outer robe and laid it down gently, rolling up his sleeves. He flexed his fingers and lifted a box. He considered doing it with the force-but then decided not to, deciding that he would enjoy the workout.

As he passed by Ank, he asked, "What happened to make you say what you did?"

Seras walked slowly, trying to prolong their journey to the prefabricated structures and the children. Sliding her hands inside the sleeves of her robes, she felt Nereus approach. Her eyebrow quirked, wondering why he was coming in their direction, surely he would want to go with the other guys. Turning her head, she smiled towards Kyenna and slowed more, waiting for Nereus to catch up with them.

"Credit for your thoughts, Seras?"

Facing forward again, Seras shrugged her shoulders. She thought about telling him the truth, that the felt this was a waste of her time and she didn't want to be here. Especially not moving boxes or babysitting. If there were injured then her skills could be applied; everyone seemed fine. But just thinking such arrogant thoughts caused a spike of remorse to lance through her mind. She instantly regretted it and was thankful for not voicing them.
"It's nothing, Nereus, I'm fine. But thanks for asking." She threw him a compassionate smile. Anyway, she was more interested in what he was doing with them. "Not interested in hard labor with the other boys?" Seras suspected aloud.

They were being waved over by a middle-aged woman with a warm smile.
"Welcome! Hi!" she cried, breaking into a light jog to meet the trio of Jedi. She wore a dark grey jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Her hair was light brown and cropped in around her neck. "Hi, I'm Porai. Come on, I'm sure the kids are dying to meet you." She waved the Jedi towards the energetic younglings currently running rings around the other women.
"Padawan Amadis," Seras offered with a tight smile. Porai glanced to the other padawan in turn and greeted them jovially.

The children approached like a furious last ditch charge of a band of warriors. They screamed with joyous laughter and encircled the Jedi. Seras kept her mind's eye open, observing the various life forms darting around her and laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair, jingling the trinkets held within. They were definitely more energetic than the younglings of the Order, Seras concluded.

"It's nothing, Nereus, I'm fine. But thanks for asking."

The Kiffar let out a soft snort at that. She obviously wasn’t fine, and it was not the first time he’d seen her in a similar state – it seemed to happen more and more often of late. It did not take a Master to see that the clash between Seras’s ideals and those of the rest of the Order was affecting her. She was starting to feel backed in a corner as a result that one shared her vision in its entirety: even Nereus, while he agreed with most of it, diverted on certain points. He was a diplomat and peace was his calling, but even he knew there was a time when words were not enough and blades had to sing. It did not mean he did not appreciate the pacifist’s position and deeply respect it, simply that he could not agree to live by the same principle. The golden-eyed teenager wondered, nevertheless, exactly what Master Stone was doing? It was a Master’s responsibility to guide their padawan through turmoil, but the reserved Councilman was nowhere to be seen.

“Not interested in hard labour with the other boys?”

The Kiffar chuckled, shooting a mildly amused look at his Miraluka friend.

“I could probably move them with the Force, but I suppose that would defeat the purpose. I’ll let the muscle work to Callan, he enjoys it more than I ever will,” he answered wryly.

The padawans were swamped with the horde of little devils a second after, Nereus being swept up in the wave – a little girl with blonde hair tackled him with a shriek of laughter, sending him sprawling on the ground surrounded by the mass of kids. Catching the offending youngling and tickling her mercilessly, the padawan exacted his revenge with a righteous smile as she squirmed and twisted in mirth. Letting the little girl roll free on the grass, breathless and still grinning, the Kiffar stood up and dusted himself off with a smile. He saw Seras talking with one of the women from the corner of his eye and decided to let the diplomacy to her for the moment. He’d always loved children, so he’d indulge himself for once and let someone else take the responsible route. Clearing his throat to catch the brat-mass’s attention, Nereus went unheard under the mass of noise. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, the Consular pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle that was usually enough to bring Mirdala to heel when she felt mischievous.

Facing another crushing defeat in the face of the children’s obliviousness, the braided teenager flashed a fatalistic smile at the other two padawans and opened the floodgates inside of him, the Force filling him and churning inside of his mind. Raising his palms to focus, the Consular grasped one of the children by the back of his shirt through the Force, lifting him in the air until his feet were just above the ground. The young boy screamed in surprise and pleasure, flapping his arms and legs as if he was flying. The mass turned towards him and before they could start to clamour for their turn, Nereus lowered the boy back to the ground and lifted a finger to silence the kids. The golden-eyed adolescent held his audience captive and spoke up in a mirthful tone.

“Now you listen, don’t you?” he teased them lightly. “If all of you are good and come with us, my friend Seras over there might show you a trick when we get at your home,” he informed them, directing an impish grin at his fellow Consular as he shamelessly threw her to the wolves.

Putting a bit of light in the children’s life might get her out of her mood, at least, and the Kiffar watched the brood submerge Seras with a satisfied smirk. Walking towards Kyenna, he suggested with a slight motion of the head that follow the tide.

Ank put Nereus and the women out of his mind easily enough as the remaining padawans were led to their destination. He forgot his derisive words as soon as he said them. The Stenax was an abrasive character at times but he didn’t truly hate Nereus or anyone else for that matter. He just tended to dislike most people he met. In fact he was pleased with the groupings, guardians separated from the irritating prattle of consulars. In his mind Ank associated ‘guardian’ with his own aggressive nature and respect for physical prowess. That his warlike ways were just as much an extreme of the guardians as Seras’ pacifism was of consulars never entered his mind. Callan’s angry response to a comment Ank had hardly given mind to uttering surprised him.

“Back off Ank. Not all of us can be an eight foot pile of muscle.” The words stung more because they came from a man Ank knew to be a fighter and a man he respected, most of the time at least. Ank chose to interpret the words as jealousy driven. Who wouldn't be jealous? “Few are so blessed, Callan.” Ank did consider his birth naturally superior to that of other species. It was a contributing factor to his natural arrogance and no doubt a part of the Stenax people's xenophobia.

Sine made a genuine attempt at diffusing the situation but Ank wasn’t interested in saying anything more anyway. At the crates Ank put his irritation and energy into moving the boxes, grabbing the biggest and heaviest crate he could find to win a competition he doubted Callan was even aware he was a part of. He wouldn’t fight the man but he’d ‘prove’ who was the stronger in whatever manner was made available to him. During the hike he made a point of avoiding Cal but Sine made his way over to match pace with the Stenax. Ank had little personal interaction with the human so his judgment was based partly off Sine’s friendly manner and occasional clumsiness and partly off what he viewed most guardians as, namely just like him.

“What Happened?” Ank would have rather just dropped the matter but since he was sure another guardian should see it his way he offered a terse reply. “Just the hypocritical prattle of fools.” If Sine wanted anymore he would have to seek the answers elsewhere, Ank wasn’t much of a talker.

Ank added his work to the pile by the caves but paid little heed to them or the miners constantly moving in and out of them. In all likelihood their entire trip was going to be summed up in the 100-yard stretch of dirt they had just covered, grunt work on a waste of planet. Unless some hideous monster burst free from the gates of hell to terrorize the settlers Ank was going to suffer under the cruel weight of monotony.

((Is anything of interest going on anywhere in the camp?))