Engines of Heaven: Coming Storm
Posted on Fri May 30th, 2025 @ 8:07pm by Thane & Bomoor Thort
1,941 words; about a 10 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VII: Uprooted
Location: JSD Great Manifest (Boundary of the Nea Glarist Blockade, Yutani System, High Promise Sector, Mid Rim
Timeline: After "Blessed Are the Warmakers" - 1,213 ABY
This post takes place in 1,213 ABY, around four years before Thane and Bomoor encountered the Cult of Axion on Nar Shaddaa, during their earliest years as Jedi Knights.
"You will advance, coming on like a storm. You will be like a cloud covering the land, you and all Her hordes, and many peoples with you."
Seripture: Centax Revised Edition
— Mantell 38:9Jedi Master Hale Dunrar’s gaze swept over the Starhoppers, his thoughts a tempest of strategy and anticipation. The sleek vessels were lined up in rows, their engines idling with a gentle hum that resonated through the deck plating. Each one was a beacon of hope amidst the looming threat of the Nea Glarist blockade. The hangar itself was a whirlwind of activity, with technicians and crew members moving with a swift precision that belied the tension in the air. Nearly all of the crew were garbed primarily in the navy-blue of the Judicial Forces, with only the occasional exception or smattering of colour to signify role or rank.
Thane stepped up beside him, his eyes alight with a mild excitement that seemed at odds with the gravity of the situation, despite the fact that he and Bomoor were already renowned for his intensity within the Order's ranks.
"Thane, Bomoor," Dunrar began, his eyes flicking over to the Jedi Knights with a gentle tone, "I have a bad feeling about this. Not about our victory, but about the cost. Again." The Neimoidian had seen his share of battles, but the sight of Starhoppers being prepped for combat never failed to stir a peculiar melancholy within him. He had hoped, after the tumult of the Second Outer Rim Conflict, that the need for such aggressive demonstrations of the Jedi's might would be a thing of the past. Yet here they were, once again, standing on the precipice of war, with the fate of a world, and a wider sector, in their hands. He had been serious before when he suggested that a failure to manage this religious uprising could spark further isolated conflicts across a beleaguered Outer Rim. The Third Republic might not weather such a renewed conflict. "I know I have brought you here and our cause is just, but I fear war may be the ruin of the Jedi."
Thane's gaze drifted over the Starhoppers, a silent nod to his own inner turmoil. He knew all too well the weight of the lightsaber at his side and the responsibility it brought. "Master," he spoke calmly, "I am curious, not eager for conflict. But if war is what is needed to ensure peace, then we must be swift and decisive - diminish the number that may be harmed, preserve the planet."
Master Dunrar's words were resonant, even without Thane's comment. They had studied the teachings of the Jedi way, which emphasised peace and diplomacy as the first steps in any conflict. Yet, the stark reality of the situation painted a clear picture: Ord Yutani was in dire need, and the Nea Glarists had left them with no option but to fight.
Climbing into the cockpit of his personal Starhopper, Dunrar found a peculiar calm. The memories of his own master's defection played in his mind like a distant echo, a reminder of the fragility of the Reborn Jedi Order and the ease with which it could be torn apart by dissent. As he strapped in, he thought of her, her cunning piloting and her fiery spirit that had once been aligned with the cause she latterly now opposed. He hoped she was safe, that she had found peace in the chaos she had chosen - but actively pushed the thought aside. Though they were minted Jedi Knights, the young pair were still his charges.
"Alright, Knights," he spoke into his headset, the voice of a leader that had seen war and lived to tell of it. "Choose your mounts carefully; they are extensions of your wills in this battle, as much as your sabers ever are."
Thane's eyes scanned the line of Starhoppers, each with their unique identifiers and personal touches from past Jedi pilots. He knew the importance of a good connection with his fighter. He approached one with a particular flair, its hull gleaming with a lavender finish that closely enough matched his lightsaber. "This one will do," he commented, looking over to Bomoor. There was anticipation - but a sense of wariness that was uncommon to either of them.
His Ithorian companion hummed his approval while he made his own quiet contemplation. He was still nursing significant bruising and a torn lip around one of his mouths, which made his enthusiasm more tempered than usual. However, his dark eyes still glistened slightly as he passed a Starhopper in a metallic chrome, well polished to make some minor laser scorches on its side diffuse into the overall finish. Bomoor was known to like watching the swoop races, although he never participated himself. This craft had a simple elegance to it, seeming highly aerodynamic, even if it was cut from the same cloth as the others in the hangar.
"This one works for me," he gestured, his voice was a little horse and muted, "I'll try to remember my pre-flight checks to make sure the previous pilot has not over-cranked something. I don't want any unexpected jolts."
With a wave of his hand, the cockpit window unlatched and eased backwards on its hinge and Bomoor eased himself up onto the side, beginning to inspect the interior.
Thane followed suit, sliding into the cockpit of the lavender Starhopper. His eyes danced over the control panels, the levers and switches laid out with an intuitive elegance that spoke to the harmony between the Jedi and their technology. But as he strapped himself in, the weight of the seatbelt around his chest was a stark reminder of the gravity of the mission ahead.
The hum of the engine grew louder as he powered up the ship, feeling the vibrations resonate through his body. He found himself lost in thought, contemplating the nature of the Republic's intervention in the affairs of Ord Yutani. The Nea Dea movement had grown from whispers of discontent into a roar that threatened to shake the very foundations of the planet.
Questions of legitimacy and governance gnawed at him like persistent parasites, and he knew Master Sotah would have some sagely view to impart, were he with them.
Thane's gloved hands danced over the controls, his mind racing through the complex web of political manoeuvring that had led them here. The Third Republic, founded on the principles of freedom and democracy, now found itself in the uncomfortable position of having to enforce its will upon those who rejected it. He had once firmly believed in the Jedi way, but now, the lines between right and wrong seemed to blur before his eyes. Was this truly the path of a Jedi - to serve as the sword of a government that might not always wield its power justly? Or, as he was perhaps thinking, had they responsibility for letting the situation fester into what it was now?
The cockpit of the Starhopper grew warm, the power building within its engines. His thoughts swirled like the nebulae outside the ship's windows. The Nea Dea movement, with its charismatic leader Contispex, had managed to unite disparate groups under a banner of religious fervour. Their belief in a divine right to rule was antithetical to everything the Republic stood for, and yet, in their own twisted way, they were fighting for their version of self-determination - and there was a hint of admiration for the clarity of vision they must have from Thane, as well as disgust at the narrow-minded views that bred such uncivil violence. Regardless, he could not help but see the irony in it all - the very concepts the Republic sought to protect were being used to justify rebellion.
"Bomoor," Thane quipped, his voice crackling over the comms, "are you sure you won't get stuck in there? Looks tighter than your normal corset.
Master Dunrar could not help but smile. And I suppose you picked the fastest ship because you're the smallest target, he almost quipped, his own Starhopper's engine coming to life with a gentle roar, but he kept the comment to himself. Despite his age, his piloting skills remained unparalleled, a testament to his years of service during the Second Outer Rim Conflict.
"Quite comfortable, thank you, Thane," his voice returned back over the comms, followed by a series of shuffles and whirrs that sounded suspiciously like someone adjusting their seat, "It's not the space in here that worries me, it's the space out there. There's something disconnected about ship-to-ship combat; there's no negotiating, no sizing up your opponent. Just firing out into the blackness against faceless men and women in their own little metal boxes. I worry it makes killing almost too easy. Well, not easy, but do you know what I mean?"
There was a brief pause on the line before Thane’s voice returned, more subdued than before. His friend's comments had cut through his more humorous mien as well as any plasma blade. "I do know what you mean, Bomoor. Too well, I think... You don’t see a face - just a signal, a locked-on target, a little light blinking until it disappears. You could be firing at a machine, a zealot, a farmer in a stolen cockpit. It's like Master Thurius said about the Conflict." He adjusted one of the dials on his console, letting the hum of his Starhopper fill the gap for a moment, perhaps appreciating their audience a little too late. Regardless, he pressed on his commentary. "But we can't wait for understanding. We’ve tried. These Glarists don’t want negotiation - they want victory and obedience," he almost spat. "And if we flinch now, they’ll carve up this whole bloody sector, world after world, until there's nothing left but cults and warlords preaching human purity through ruin."
Thane's voice had taken on a slightly darker edge, plainly audible over the comm system. Dunrar shuffled slightly, but the young Human's voice crackled over the airwave again. "If our peace means anything, we have to take the fight to them, before they bring it to those who can’t defend themselves. Your virtues are better than mine, Bomoor... but if others won’t share them, we act on their terms, or we let more innocents die. The Second Outer Rim Conflict proved that. The fanatics planetside proved that."
"Spoken like men who still remember what it means to care," Dunrar's voice entered the channel with a soft warmth that betrayed the intensity of what had been discussed and what lay ahead, a gentle attempt to soothe the rising commentary from Thane. "But those thoughts will have to wait, my young friends."
Outside, the hangar doors began to grind open, revealing the void of space beyond and the shimmering glint of distant ships against the huge backdrop of Ord Yutani itself - enemy signatures, clustered and waiting.
"Power up your cannons and check your stabilisers," the Jedi Master added, slipping seamlessly back into his traditional role as a Jedi Ace. "The Manifest is giving us an opening - let’s make it count. Knights, launch on my mark." A pause, then his voice again, calm and resolute: "For the Republic. For Ord Yutani. Mark."
TBC
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