What Cost Freedom?

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What Cost Freedom?

Post by Maul_Junior »

ooc: This is going to be a story that takes place largely during the Trade Federation Occupation of Naboo during Episode 1. It exists largely to serve as backstory for a character I will be writing.

However, there is room for one or two more people a few posts down the line, after I lay some necessary ground work and get to the right point. If anyone feels like RPing a Fringer that is fighting the TF Occupation of Naboo, send me a PM. Please, no RSF/police, no normal citizens--any characters that would like to apply would need to be able to take care of themselves in a firefight and be able to follow orders. Also no Jedi, or strongly Force-Sensitive non-Jedi. Hopefully the reason for these restrictions will become apparent when I get closer to the point that others can join in. btw any suggestions for how to improve my Yoda writing style would be helpful--but should not be posted on this thread, as this thread is for IC

ic: The sun was setting over the horizon when the transmission came. It arrived like any other, and was put into a buffer. For the business of the Jedi waited for few men, and Liam de Lova was not among them. He looked up from his datapad and up at the venerable Jedi Master he had been assigned to. The dwarfish, green being was currently stirring a stew pot in the kitchenette, and murmuring to himself.

If it had been anyone else, Liam would have put his behavior down to advancing age. But there was little that the small Jedi Master did that did not have a purpose. Or a purpose within a purpose. But no matter what else could be said about the Jedi Grandmaster Yoda, he was one hell of a Jedi.

Liam had been extremely lucky that he had been assigned to Yoda when Liam had joined the Antarian Rangers. But then again, many Jedi dismissed the notion of luck as superstition. He had worked hard to get here. He led his family with strength and dignity and distinction.

Liam forced himself to concentrate on the extremely boring diplomatic drivel that always seemed to accompany these missions to smooth ruffled feathers. But fifteen minutes and a bowl of delicious stew later, he had made little progress.

“I'm a soldier,” Liam growled, dropping his datapad onto his knee and rubbing his eyes. “Not an analyst. I'm not good at this.”

The diminutive Master peered up at the human with amusement. “No difference, there is, between, politics and war,” the Jedi reminded gently. “Different only in your mind.”

Liam grimaced and picked up his datapad, nodding. He could feel the Master's gaze upon him, but he just wanted to get this over with. He tried to read the datapad for several more seconds, then threw it down in frustration. “I'm sorry, Master Yoda, but I don't see it.” The Master's eyes rose slightly. “I know that in principle they're the same—always strike at your enemy's weakest point and make them fight you at your strongest—but I just cannot see it. I was raised in a military family to defend our planet from threats.”

“More threats from within than without many planets face. Threats from without,” The Master said quietly. “Of these, well equipped to fight you are. To fight threats from within, teach you I must.”

Liam glared at the tiny alien. He had spent five years with the Jedi Master, and still didn't have a firm grasp on how old he was. But however old he was, he could always make Liam, a thirty-year veteran of the Royal Security Forces of Naboo, feel like a schoolboy on his first day of school again. And Liam didn't like the feeling. But he had to admit, the past five years had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and he had learned far more than he had ever imagined he would have.

Irritated with the Jedi, he pulled his datapad back towards himself, and began scrolling through the messages he had received, pointedly ignoring the work he and the Jedi was supposed to be doing. At least for now.

It looked like the usual run of the mill junk messages, a handful of birthday reminders, a note from his doctor about an upcoming appointment, and—Liam sat bolt upright in his easy chair, knocking notes and folders to the floor. Master Yoda looked up slowly, a bemused expression on his face, as Liam slowly rose to his feet, shaking with excitement with every word he read.

“Master Yoda,” Liam breathed, when he had finally finished the message. “I just received the most spectacular news!” He began pacing, ignoring the flimsiplast sheets beneath his feet. The Jedi Master watched him silently, using the Force to pull the pages out of the way of his booted feet. Liam's face was lit up, a broad grin across his face. The comatose state the endless diplomatic packets had nearly put him into was forgotten. “My nephew had a son two weeks ago. The results of the blood test just came back.” Liam's grin didn't seem like it could get any wider. “He's Force Sensitive.”

The small green troll's ears raised. “Excellent news this is!” the Master said, reaching for his cane, and limping his way towards a wine rack. “Cause for celebration. The name of this child?” he inquired.

Liam grinned. “His name is Anton. Anton de Lova. It's a great name for a Jedi Knight."
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