The bright yellow light of his training foils Illuminated the dark, humid air around him on the beaches of Mon Cala. The light rains fell weakly upon the foil, hissing as they evaporated. Sheridan stood in front of a facility deep in the heart of those beaches, with carcasses of various amphibious creatures who had tested his skills along the way littered his pathway there. He knew entering this building alone was reckless, but he had grown confident in his abilities under the training of Lord Shade, and now recently, Sith Warrior Sohma.
”Peace is a lie, there is only passion.”
He begins to repeat the code to himself as he steps through the entryway. The large metal doors slide slowly into the walls, revealing two Mon Calamari wielding blaster rifles. As they realize what’s happening and raise their weapons to their shoulders, Sheridan internalizes the Force in a burst of alacrity to leap into melee range with them. As he deflects their attacks and brings his weapons crashing down upon them, he considers what those words mean to him.
Conflict, both from within and without, is natural to humanity and the development of a person’s character. Those who misunderstand conflict think that it can only be violent, hateful, and cruel. Conflict can be beautiful. Deciding between chasing a lost love or moving on to another chance at happiness. Overcoming a sense of fear or pride to better understand your own capabilities. This is conflict. Peace is a construct of the sentient mind, one created to avoid the temporary discomfort of conflict. Peace is an ideal used by tyrants to keep their servants from considering their lot in life and realizing that they deserve so much more.
”Through passion, I gain strength.”
The passion that these Mon Calamari have for their land is not only respectable, It’s enviable. Having such desire to protect your environment that you raise weapons in hand is a level of commitment that few could understand or appreciate. They draw strength from that connection, that passion, and that emotion. It gives them the determination they need to aim their blasters at their enemies and pull the trigger.
Their first mistake is that their passions have been misplaced. Their blaster fire has landed upon those who never should have felt their wrath. Innocent men and women who were working ecologically unsafe jobs, only to feed their families. Now these terrorists have taken these people from those families. Leaving wives and husbands alone. Leaving children without parents.
Now these misplaced passions have found them in direct conflict with Sheridan and his own emotions. His desire is to protect those weaker than himself. To stand up for the forgotten, and to avenge the wrongfully abused. The ecosystem may very well be important… but not more important than innocent life. They will collide, their passions gauged against one another, and the one who draws more strength from their anger… their sorrow… their fear? They will be victorious.
He is not concerned about the possibility of defeat. He feels the power given to him by his beliefs. He knows his dedication to his cause, strengthened by his connection to the Force will bring him the victory he deserves, the victory he is owed. His mind flashes back to the time in the cavern, after his first night with Alice.
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Sheridan had felt as if he were completely immersed in the Force, the entirety of it enveloping his person. He felt a slight pull in two diametrically opposed directions, one towards a feeling of weightlessness and illumination… and one towards a feeling of dense purpose and determination. He felt a thousand thousand voices speaking in unison, softly within his mind.
He instinctively starts moving towards the overwhelming feeling of weightlessness. Knowing it to be the way of compassion and understanding. He flows through the Force almost natively, until a single voice among the thousands starts to speak with doubt.
“How will you protect anyone when you couldn’t even protect yourself from these crystalline spiders?”
The doubt seeped into his heart. The voice was right. The other voices started to agree with this one, ten turns to a hundred. Into a thousand. Into ten thousand. The path of determination would strengthen him. It would be a path of sacrifice, but his spirit was steeled for whatever lay ahead.
All at once the pull subsided. A saber ignites. Sheridan’s world is drowned in crimson light. The light grow brighter as the threat approaches rapidly. The vermillion blade comes crashing down upon him, and he instinctively draws his hands into a parrying position.
A saber ignites.
The clash of lightning striking itself bellows through the air.
The deep orange glow of his own saber feels warm to his entire being. He staves off his attacker’s onslaught, blocking every blow, able to feel his assailant’s moves before they happen. After an eternity of fleeting moments, Sheridan’s parry allows for a counterattack above his enemy’s left collarbone. He brings his saber down without hesitation or remorse, and as the glow of his weapon illuminates his enemy’s face in passing, he watches as he cuts himself down in heated battle.
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When he comes back into the present, Sheridan stands at the epicenter of the Eco-Terrorist facility. The dead bodies of the terrorists litter the halls, and his training saber hums hauntingly through the echoing lab. He looks down at the blood, splattered across floor.
Looking to the crimson pools gives his training saber an eerie orange reflection.
He deactivated his saber and begins the long trek back to Dac City. His holocom buzzes relentlessly.
He doesn’t answer it.