“I spent all afternoon looking for it. Luckily, I had ordered another one,” Imri whispered conspiratorially to Vernestra. The human boy was from Genetia originally, even though he had spent his youngling years in the main temple on Coruscant. Imri was tall and broad-shouldered, and his hefty frame was a perfect match for his master’s. He had pale skin, a mop of golden hair, kind brown eyes, and an uncanny knack for perceiving the feelings and thoughts of those around him.
“Master Douglas is fortunate to have you,” Vernestra said with a kind smile.
Imri laughed. “I’m lucky to have him. I still haven’t managed to finish reconstructing my lightsaber. And it was so easy the first time I did it! But now, it just feels wrong every time I piece it back together.”
“It happens. But don’t worry, you’ll get it. Did you ever consider asking Douglas to take you to the temple for the empath tests?” Vernestra asked. The capacity to perceive the feelings of others was a rare Force ability, but these were marvelous times. More and more it seemed that the Jedi would spread their light throughout the galaxy and make life better for all. Wasn’t that why the Republic had undertaken construction of Starlight Beacon? Because of the benevolence of the Jedi?
Imri shook his head. “It’s not the Force, Vernestra, it’s just paying attention. Hey, do you think you could tell me a little bit about your trials?” he whispered. “Douglas thinks I should start training for them, but I don’t know. I don’t feel ready.”
Vernestra smiled and leaned in close to Imri. “You have a while. I took mine early because Master Stellan thought I was ready.” Imri’s hopeful expression fell just a bit, and Vernestra put a comforting hand on his should. “Don’t worry, Imri! You have lots of time. Didn’t you just turn fourteen?”
“Yes, but . . .” Imri’s voice trailed off and he sighed. “I’m ready to be a Knight.”
“You’ll be ready when the Force says you are,” Vernestra said gently.
Imri sighed again. “Yes, Master Douglas says much the same thing. By the way, don’t let him forget to introduce you to the Dalnans. They’ve heard stories about you and they’re very excited to meet our local celebrity.”
Vernestra felt a flush of happy embarrassment, but Douglas stood and cleared his throat, hearing Imri’s words.
“Ah, yes, thank you, my dear Padawan, for the gentle reminder.” He chuckled and held out a hand to Vernestra. “Ambassadors Weft, Janex, and Starstriker, please allow me to introduce you to the pride of Port Haileap, Vernestra Rwoh. Vernestra here—we call her Vern for short—is the youngest Padawan to pass her trials in a very long time. She is quite the rising star.”
“What exactly happens during the Jedi trials? Is it a test of strength or intellect?” Ambassador Weft asked. The man’s face bore deep furrows, as thought he had lived a difficult life. His hair was fiery red and his skin tanned, though not nearly as dark as Avon’s. He looked to spend a lot of time out in the warmth of a sun, of which Dalna had two. He and his son were the only humans from his delegation; the rest of the Dalnans were Pantoran, Trandoshan, or Weequay. All wore plain tunics and trousers, their knee-high boots simple and utilitarian. They each bore the same somber expression and carried a small arsenal of blasters, a show of strength that had intimidated other Republic envoys to the planet. There had been a war on Dalna a century or so before, and the population had responded by becoming a formidable culture that trained constantly for battle.
“The trials are both,” Vernestra said with a smile, answering the ambassador’s question. “They are designed to test an individual Jedi’s strengths and weaknesses.”
“No two trials are the same,” Douglas interjected, clapping the ambassador on the shoulder like they were old friends. “I have heard that your Metamorphosis Trials on Dalna are similar.”
“Not quite,” said a Pantoran female, Ambassador Janex, with a polite smile. She wore the same khaki uniform as the rest of the Dalnan delegation, the brown material making her blue skin seem even more vibrant. “Our Metamorphosis does test the strengths of our children, but only to prepare them for the harsh realities of life on our planet. They are more job-specific than anything else.”
“Yes,” agreed Ambassador Weft, his voice even and soft. “For example, my son Honesty’s trials will be focused on hand-to-hand combat since he has expressed interest in joining our military.” At the mention of the Metamorphosis, Honesty had looked down at his lap, and Vernestra wondered if he was excited or afraid of his trials. But then Ambassador Weft continued speaking and she turned her attention back to the older man. “He will be tested in his ability to defend himself and survive harsh conditions, both skills necessary to endure battle.”
“What need does he have when there hasn’t been a proper war for a century?”
Everyone turned to look at Avon and J-6 as they entered, Avon’s words making just as much of an impact as her tardiness. “Sorry to be late. I seem to have grown a few centimeters since my last fitting. Avon Starros, daughter of Senator Ghirra Starros. Ambassadors, please let me extend the warmest greetings of the Republic and welcome you aboard this fine vessel sent by my mother.”
“This ship was sent by the Chancellor,” said Ambassador Janex with an arch of her brow.
Avon smiled politely. “And who do you think it was that convinced the government to part with the funds? As I am sure you know, my mother is adamant that the Republic should double in size in her lifetime. We are, as the saying goes, stronger together. If Dalna joins the Republic everyone wins. Hopefully you will be able to see that during this trip.”
The Dalnan delegation murmured, but Avon said nothing else, just bobbed an answering curtsy.
Vernestra tried not to gape at the young girl. This was an Avon whom Vernestra had never met. The girl’s unruly curls had been swept back on each side and she wore so many ruffles that she looked to be half coniferous tree and half confection. Her dress was formed from layers of cream and peach gnostra fiber, an homage to the gnostra bush, the ever-useful natural resource of Dalna. Even though Avon looked like a completely different girl, she still plopped down into her chair, the only empty seat, right next to Honesty Weft, a brown-haired boy with pale freckled skin. He was the spitting image of Ambassador Weft, only their hair color setting them apart.
“We have had battles on our planet in the last century,” the boy said, his voice quiet and barely intelligible. “The peace of the Republic does not always extend to her planets.”
“Or her hyperspace lanes,” chimed in Ambassador Janex, taking a long drink of her scarlet gnostra berry wine before she continued. “I have heard the most recent disaster in hyperspace has been thought to be an act of sabotage.”
“Of the hyperspace lanes?” Avon asked, reaching for a glass of the same wine. J-6 quickly interfered and poured a tall glass of the pink gnostra berry juice instead, and Avon’s scowl was fleeting as she smiled across the table at the delegation.
So the quarrelsome child was still there under all those frills. That somehow made Vernestra glad.
“Yes,” Ambassador Janex said, warming to the topic. Her blue cheeks flushed prettily. “The initial destruction of the Legacy Run set off a series of cataclysms people are calling Emergences, an eruption of remnants of the wreckage appearing randomly across the galaxy.”