That’s concerning, so to speak, the basic education that my brothers and sisters in the Order neglected, preferring to learn something or other somehow during their travels around the galaxy with their masters.
If, of course, they were lucky enough to become Padawans.
As for those who failed — no big deal, they’d be trained in the Agricultural Corps, or some other one.
Sub-Jedi could be useful in many places.
It amazes me a little why failed paladins of light don’t leave the Order and start building their own lives.
I understand everything — they’ve been in the Order since childhood.
They haven’t seen the world and don’t know it.
They have no contacts with relatives, but dammit!
Even an untrained Force-sensitive, who has any handle on the Force at all, is a very hard-to-kill person!
At any rate, ordinary thugs aren’t a threat to him, and even more serious criminals aren’t guaranteed to deal with him quickly.
As for such trifles as fraud or a dishonest employer, it’s not even worth mentioning.
Only someone who knows how to work with the Force can deceive a Force-user.
And do it perfectly.
Proven by Palpatine.
The second surprise presented by the Order’s AI was a database on Force techniques.
Even if the Temple doesn’t know jack about this semi-mystical subject, it’s perfectly capable of simply collecting descriptions of methods and structuring them.
So my request for materials to develop myself as a Force-sensitive was fulfilled with enthusiasm and significant over-coverage of my queries.
In general, Force techniques were quite accessible — you could study them all you wanted; people just weren’t in the habit of practicing them.
They trained the basic moves shown in junior school and didn’t particularly strain themselves.
That was more than enough for many.
Peacetime.
Blessed.
Too bad it doesn’t last forever.
Mastering different aspects of using the Force was fairly simple on one hand, and complex on the other.
Essentially, it all came down to meditation.
Feel the Force, express a desire, “voice” an intention, and get a result.
In the silence of the temple halls, any technique worked without issue.
Let’s not count the dozens of hours spent kneeling in something like the Japanese seiza position — lotus with a tail isn’t exactly comfortable, and no one was supplying me with a cushion.
But pulling off the same Force technique on the move?
Well, I don’t know.
Maybe Anakin could have, after a dozen or two repetitions.
At first, I had to perform the same thing nearly a hundred times in deep meditation before anything even vaguely resembling it started working without it.
And as for using a Force technique in an extreme or even just stressful situation?
Maybe after another thousand repetitions I’ll manage.
Then again, not everything can be studied or practiced on your own or alone.
The same mental techniques, for example.
Simple memory or accelerated perception?
Go ahead, no problem.
Influencing a mind or reading thoughts?
That’s harder.
The first one I trained, quite literally, on the birds living in the temple gardens.
Then I moved on to larger animals.
With telepathy, the non-Force-sensitive service staff helped me.
And it happened completely by accident.
A technician walked past while I was practicing using the Force outside of meditation.
But mental influences — especially those you could call combat-applicable — that’s where things get bleak.
I confess, a couple of fish and a dozen innocent birds prematurely ended their earthly journey because of me.
But the exact same effect applied to a sentient could just as easily kill as cause mild disorientation.
This, by the way, is one of the reasons almost no one studies such dangerous techniques.
The training is far too hazardous; you need flawless control and something like a highly developed intuition.
And which of those is more important and primary — that’s another question entirely.
The third major result of my close interaction with the Order’s AI was the fencing katas it developed.
I’ll be honest, the idea wasn’t mine originally.
I’d read a story back in the day where the heroine analyzed a couple thousand battles of Force-users and created her own style — and with it, mowed down her enemies like grass.
I threw the problem to the Temple, it hummed, creaked, and produced a result.
One that made my fur stand on end.
Based on the analysis of millions of battles, dating back almost to the founding of the Order, many billions of moves, combinations, and transitions were obtained.
When I got over the shock and looked at the table of contents of the mad fencer’s catalog, I just mewed.
I even started having some doubts about the AI.
Was it really that intelligent?
Anyway, it gave me everything for everyone.
I was stunned by an ancient Jedi Master with an unpronounceable name.
This being, long since gone into the Force, was a member of a cephalopod race and preferred an original set of weapons: two swords, a force pike, and a lightwhip — and he used them all at once.
Grievous smokes nervously on the sidelines.
Mace Windu with his Vaapad was also in there.
He’d been hiding it from others, preferring not to tempt unformed minds, but the Temple recorded everything.
The tentacle-owner, by the way, was unique and stood at the top of the list, which is why I noticed him.
I had to cut the cloth accordingly.
Humanoids, without extra joints, incapable of equally freely bending limbs in arbitrary directions, not restricted by an exoskeleton, and using only lightsabers — one or two.
I still had a hell of a lot left.
As a result of a brutal sequestration by the AI, exactly one hundred katas were created, with a hundred techniques in each.
The Temple relied on plain statistics.
The AI measured the effectiveness of a given technique by the number of corpses.
Simply put, the more people had fallen to a specific strike or technique, the more useful it was.
Still, after learning them, I’d need about three hours for a single full run-through of this kata complex — in accelerated time.
Fighting laziness is easy when you’re used to training every day for five years.
The body and mind themselves demand exertion.
The Cathar physiology also plays a part.
As descendants of predators that outwardly resemble lions, my species’ ancestors differed radically from the sleepy inhabitants of the savanna.
Characteristics of pack-hunting the enormous herbivores of our homeworld — a sort of cross between a mammoth and a rhinoceros.
We took the prey by attrition, attacking and chasing it for days on end — what sleep could there be?
But then the whole pride would feast and sleep it off, and it would all start again.
Add to that the medical Force techniques, special meditations designed to relieve physical fatigue and clear the mind.
They won’t replace full rest, but they do give you four days of active life with sixteen hours of sleep on the fifth.
I spend six hours a day on classical studies, nine on Jedi disciplines, and the rest is the mandatory program.
Eating, meditation, and the little things fill the gaps.
I won’t say the total ended up being that much more compared to the youngling elementary school days.
Essentially, I just replaced the mandatory stuff with my own and, by cutting into nighttime sleep, slightly expanded some disciplines — like fencing or training with Force techniques.
And no, I don’t just practice my own lightsaber forms; I also go to a master instructor during the day and actively learn the second form of lightsaber combat.
It’s called Makashi.
It was created specifically for fighting Force-users.
Count Dooku — who wore down the Chosen One and his master and fought off the Grand Master — proved its effectiveness, I think.
I also don’t slack off on spending a couple of hours on Soresu, considering that out of the hundreds of Jedi who died on Geonosis, ninety percent fell to blasters.
So I’m gradually mastering a style that was developed precisely against multiple opponents with blasters.
After all, in the vast majority of worlds, open carry of weapons is permitted.
And given the Order’s assignments, which often lead to encounters with not-quite-law-abiding beings… In short — I’m diligently preparing to fend off colleagues and rivals on one side, and ordinary mortals on the other.
* * *
“Mirr, will you train with me?” Ahsoka pops up like a jack-in-the-box, carefully enunciating the question.
I, for the umpteenth time, wonder how she manages to ambush me.
“Of course!” I smile and pull my tail away — the little menace just can’t leave it alone.
“Today I’ll totally beat you,” the pip-squeak declares, tilting her nose up.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll really beat you.
I won’t cry.
They showed me a flint that’ll blow your mind!”
“I believe you, but it’s called a ‘feint,'” I wave a paw toward the training halls, mentally realizing that an hour of sleep is about to be postponed.
“Let’s go already.”
“Okay,” the little Togruta bounces impatiently, barely restraining herself from activating the practice shoto right in the corridor.
That would mean no sweets — a most severe punishment for such a sweet tooth.
“Here,” I hold out a treat I’ve saved since lunch.
Something like a chocolate bar.
“Fanks.”
“Uh-huh,” I stifle a yawn and squint my eyes.
“Come on, show me this ‘feint’ of yours.” I activate my saber and take a defensive stance.
“Riyah!” Ahsoka attacks.
Block.
Dodge.
Feint an attack.
Deflect a thrust.
Drop into a lunge.
Block with my tail.
“Ha!” the girl jumps, pleased with her victory.
“Good job.”
I held back my thrust, letting her dodge.
Swing.
Strike.
Jumped up.
Swatted away.
Growled-meowed, causing a moment of paralysis.
Touched her with my blade.
“Cheater!”
“Attack.”
Blade at an angle.
The hum of clashing blades.
Turn the wrist.
A tail-swat.
Jump back.
Thrust.
Whoa, she tried to trick me — no kidding!
Block.
Blade swing.
Thrust.
Slip past.
Hold back.
“Don’t push; I’m bigger and heavier.”
“Okay.”
“That’s enough for today,” I stop the sparring, intercepting the overexcited Togruta.
“Cheater!”
“No, it’s late.”
“Waaah!”
“Someone promised me they wouldn’t cry.
And besides, your paint will run.”
“Sniff,” Ahsoka wipes her eyes.
“You’re stronger,” she accuses, poking a finger at me.
And what am I supposed to say to that?
All that’s left is to pat her head, scratch her montrals, and give her my tail to catch, since it fascinates her so much.
I ask you — who’s the cat here?
“Ready to go?”
“Waaah — goo,” Ahsoka yawns and rubs her eyes sleepily with her fists, finally releasing my poor tail.