The Padawan Who Hid

Chapter 1: A New Mission

Heyo, human beings from outer space! 

First off, I'd like to say that I don't own Star Wars or any of the characters except for Birdie Welsh and Master Varr. 

This story was written on request by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. So, my friend, you know who you are, and I hope you enjoy!

I'm not going to be doing any more author's notes until the very end, so I'll be out of the way. 

Well, I think that's it. For now. 

Read on if you dare. 

I sit in my "quarters," completely still, legs tucked under me, and breaths even. I block out all the external distractions and focus only on the Force.

Once I've submerged myself shallowly into the trance, I observe every part of my little, cramped room through the Force. It's physically dark: the light control is on the outside and my master turned it off, but I don't need light to see with the Force.

There's a hanger bar above me with cloaks dangling down just above my head. I sit on an old, battered rug that covers a quarter of the floor space. My sleeping mat covers the other three quarters. It's conditioned the same as the rug and has an absence of a pillow. A small case I use for clothes hardly fits in the corner beside me. Then there's the door. I can see that it's locked.

The lock is on the outside, too, so that my Master can lock me in and turn out the lights. He likes it like that. I don't, but that hardly matters.

I slip back into focusing on my thoughts so I can sort through and clear my mind.

Suddenly, the door swishes open loudly behind me.

"Hey, lab rat. General wants you," the clone captain of the legion spits. He has a number, but I just call him Captain.

I stand up wordlessly and step past him. He jabs me in the back roughly and I grit my jaw as pain shoots through my spine. Master Krell gave me a huge bruise up and down my back, so now if anything touches it, pain shoots through me.

On approaching Mater Krell's quarters, my hands are trembling. I take a deep breath and knock on the metal door.

The door slides open, providing a way to a dimly lit room with a huge, four-armed figure in the middle. I double-check to make sure I'm shielding my fear before approaching him.

"You summoned me, Master Krell?" I kneel on one leg and point my head to the floor.

Without warning, a large, hard object smashes into my face. The force of the blow shoves me back and the object shatters on impact, a shard splitting my cheek. It must've been one of those glass vases. I whimper pathetically.

From my position on the floor, I watch Master Krell bring his arm back above his head as if he's moving in slow motion. I grimace, preparing for the blow.

It comes right across my cheek where the glass cut into me. I yelp, then clamp my mouth shut and grind my teeth. I bite down on my tongue so hard it bleeds, but it's all I can do to prevent myself from crying out sharply.

"You kriffed up the last mission. What were you thinking?!" Master Krell demands.

"Forgive me, Master, I just thought I–"

"Forgive you?!" he roars. "Is that an order?! Who are you to order me around, child!?"

"No, no!" I cry, shielding my head with my hands. "I meant I apologise! I'm so sorry, Master, I didn't mean to make a mistake, I just thought that I could save those lives. And I did–"

"But the clones were meant to be expendable!" Master Krell shouts. "They're close to worthless."

"I'm sorry, Master," I breathe, dangerously close to tears.

"Now we've been assigned to a mission with a few other Jedi. We'll meet them tomorrow at daybreak," Master Krell says.

"That's good news," I say, trying to appeal positively.

"I didn't ask for your opinion. You're on inventory duty as punishment and you better have everything accounted for by the time we depart."

"Yes, Master," I promise. I take it as a cue of dismissal and hastily leave to first clean my wound, then get to work on a long night of inventory duty.