Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The before time:

The light side Jedi master was in his mid to late middle years.  He was tall and lean, fiercely handsome in an aquiline way as if he was always just about to swoop down on you and sweep you up in his talons.  He had medium-brown hair that was just starting to add salt to the pepper and deep brown eyes that saw with the unnatural clarity of the powerful Jedi.  He was striding back and forth in the small stone gazebo on the outskirts of the athletics field in the light side Jedi compound on Ossus.  In front of him, sitting cross-legged on the marble floor were his three students: Red-haired and fierce Mikkel Ansa, blonde, calm and brilliant Anda Siv, and earnest and serious Makas Goroc.  The three had been with the master since they had, through various means, come to the Jedi order at a very young age and would study under him until they were old and skilled enough to graduate to the level of Jedi Knights.  In the meantime, the four of them were the only family the three students knew.

“So, when asking the force what it wants, you must remember that it is both much more and much less than an ordinary intellect.  Who can tell me what that means?”  The master paused his lecture and looked at his three disciples.

The red-headed girl was distracted, looking at the older disciples practicing their martial arts across the training field.  Beginning puberty had been weird for all of them and she had been seized by an obsession with the blonde young padawan boy working on his shoulder strikes, the one with the crooked smile.  That would fix itself in time, and she would regain her balance.

The black-haired boy was deep in thought.  If left alone he would get there eventually.  He wasn’t even particularly slow, but he was ordinary, and with the other two students’ gifts that meant he got left in their shadow a lot.

The small blonde girl raised her hand.  Of course. The master smiled at her.  “Go ahead.” He encouraged.

“The force encompasses all desires and all outcomes.  By embracing all of those at the same time it is greater than any individual living thing could ever be.” The girl said.  “But it lacks the singular focus of a living being and cannot communicate in the way we can.  So, we have to be careful to ask it the right questions and to carefully understand the answers.”

“Good.” The master smiled.  They were coming along.  Some were destined for greatness.

Much, much later:

The crew chief on the shuttle looked up from what he was reading and took in the empty passenger bay, closed his reader, and walked up to the flight deck of the shuttle.  Out the window was the grand vista of the planet of Tython from low orbit, wheeling slowly as the shuttle prepared to dive into the atmosphere.  The crew chief liked his job: shuttling passengers and cargo between the orbital station and the greatest Jedi temple in the galaxy was steady work and occasionally he shipped something or someone Really Important.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Routine.” the copilot replied.  “There’s a storm over the eastern ocean, we’re going to scoot around it.”

“Unscheduled course changes are my favorite.” the pilot said, dripping sarcasm.  “The tone Tython approach takes when we’re past our scheduled time…”

“It’s not that bad.” said the copilot, “the best part is you get to talk to them.”

“You have a weird conception of what is fun.”

The crew chief laughed a little and wandered back to the passenger bay.  There were two passengers in it now, both humans in young adulthood:  one was a slim, small blonde woman who had a slightly ethereal quality to her, as if she was not entirely physical.  The other was a man, medium sized with deep black hair and a pair of scars crossing each other over his face.  Both wore the unpretentious brown tunic and pants of a Jedi padawan, and both carried training sticks.  They sat facing each other across the small passenger area on the shuttle, and an air of tenseness between them slowly spread through the compartment. Neither of them had been there when the crew chief left the room, but he didn’t seem to notice this incongruity.

“Are you going to ask me why we’re here?” the woman said.

“No.” the man replied.  “You would say what served you best, and I’ll find out your real purpose when the time comes.”

“What if I didn’t do this?”

The man stared at her.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Makas, I-” the woman started, then the lights in the cabin suddenly changed color.  The crew chief checked his readouts, they had indeed landed.  He pressed the button that opened the door.

“Typhon, last stop.  We can’t fly any lower, you have to get off!” the crew chief said, cheerfully interrupting whatever Jediness they were about to have.  It would have been arcane and really best handled with other Jedi around.  “Have a nice day and thank you for flying the Typhon shuttle!”

The man got up, politely thanked the crew chief, and left.  The woman waited a bit longer and looked the crew chief in the eye, smiling with enough brightness to trip some switch in his mind and brighten his day.  “Thank you,” she said and stepped off.

The petite blonde was named Anda Siv, and she stepped off the shuttle and took a few seconds to examine herself and her surroundings.  The shuttle had landed on part of an interconnected series of platforms near but not connected to what looked like an attractively wooded shoreline.  Looking at her own body she saw…herself, but not herself as she most recently remembered.  Her last memories had been of being an old, frail woman and looking at herself she seemed…young.  Her skin was smooth, her muscles firm, and her hair was short and the bright honey blonde of her youth.

Anda stepped out of what looked like the main pathway people used to get on and off the shuttle, closed her eyes and stretched, feeling out the sensation of being a person again.  She took a few seconds and threw herself into the experience, letting the smell, the feel of the wild outside air, the sunshine, the sounds of the landing pad, the feel of the stone beneath her and the tensions and energies of her own body wash over her whole consciousness.  She drowned for a few seconds in the overwhelming sensation of being, then brought herself back into focus.  She reached out into the force, found it wanted her to go this way and walked across the landing pad to the further of the two receiving rooms.  Another Jedi was there, an avuncular looking human man in a samurai topknot standing with a data pad.  He smiled at Anda.

“Hello, padawan.” he said, “Welcome to Tython, I am Master Syo Bakarn.  This is the ancestral home of the Jedi order, where the Jedi first came to be, and here our most promising padawans complete their training.”  None of what the man had said concurred with Anda’s experience.  To her, the Jedi had started on Ossus, or possibly Ach-To.  Or Coruscant.  It was a complicated question.  Light side Padawans had completed their training on Ossus, though the dark side trainees had completed it wherever they were.  And she, Anda Siv, was definitely not a padawan.

Still, the man in front of her was pleasant enough.  In the force, he was definitely light side, with the calm, focused presence of one of the better Jedi masters.  He was calm and had that air of authenticity Jedi could project.  This didn’t fully assuage Anda’s suspicions about her new circumstance, but it didn’t seem immediately threatening and Anda decided to play along and see what turned up.  In the force, she wrapped herself up and metaphorically shrank to the size of an ordinary Jedi.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Anda said.  “My name is Anda Siv.”

Syo Bakarn smiled.  “We know who you are.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”  Anda asked.  Maybe answers would come through the obvious route of just asking questions.  It worked sometimes.

“Your masters told us that even as a child you had a remarkable connection to the force.  We haven’t seen such power in decades.  You’re here to face your trials to become a Jedi Knight.” Bakarn replied.  “Your new master was delayed; she sends her apologies.”

Anda darkened slightly.  “I had a master.” she said, “His name was Kunal Lin.”

Bakarn consulted his datapad.  “That’s not what I have written here.  Hmmm.” He poked the datapad with a finger and frowned at it as if it wasn’t quite making sense to him.  “Anyway, as Master Yuon trains you, do not forget your initial training and do not forget the Jedi code.”

He recited:

“There is no emotion, there is peace
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge
There is no passion, there is serenity
There is no chaos, there is harmony
There is no death, there is the force.”

Anda had never heard this before and was contemplating its meaning when she sensed a force-sensitive person walking along the platform and approaching the anteroom.  “Is that the new master?” she asked.

“What?” Bakarn said.

“That.” Anda replied, pointing at the door just as it opened.  It was a human woman, just starting to age and wearing what looked to Anda distinctly like a dress.  She had that slightly tired, mostly calm expression many Jedi masters got and brightened visibly at seeing the two people in the room.

“Master Syo, thank you for covering for me.  So, you must be my new padawan!” she said, striding over to stand directly in front of Anda.  “I’m master Yuon Par.  I’ll be helping you through the trials.  Unfortunately, I don’t have time to start the training now.  We have a crisis on our hands.”

Internally, Anda found the part of her that had rebelled at the notion of getting a new master and wrestled it into a cage to be examined later.  Externally, she put on a smile with just the right amount of enthusiasm and a little too much serenity in it. “I stand ready to help.” she said.

Yuon Par explained: Tython was full of archeological treasures depicting the ancient history of the Jedi, in particular a set of holographic teaching records that may have come from the founders of the Jedi order.  Unfortunately, a large group of something called flesh raiders (not an encouraging name) was rampaging through the area and the holograms were in danger.  Anda was to go out and save the holograms from the flesh raiders.

Syo Bakarn didn’t think that was a good idea.  He explained that the flesh raiders were natives of Tython and were currently being held back by several Jedi combat teams.  He didn’t think a padawan was up for direct combat with them.  Yuon disagreed and said that Anda had more power at the age of four than Yuon herself did at fifteen.

Anda suspected that that was true but wondered how Yuon Par knew that.  Nothing here was familiar.  “Where should I begin?” Anda asked.

“The holograms are in the Gnaris, the field close to where the flyer from this shuttle platform sets down.  Be vigilant, that region has dangers of its own.  If you encounter any difficulties, contact me on the communicator.”  Yuon explained.

“Thank you, Master Yuon.” Anda said and left the room.

She was consulting the map on her datapad when the male co-traveler in the shuttle came out of the room he had been in and crossed to the platform she was standing on, he looked like he was walking to the flier pad to cross to the mainland.  Anda stepped in front of him.

“Makas, wait.” she said, putting up a hand to stop him.  “All I remember is dissolving into the force, and then waking up on that shuttle.  I don’t know why we’re here.  But I feel like it’s something important that the force wants me to do, and if you’re here that means the force wants us to do something.  I know you and I know you want to find out what that something is and either help it or hinder it depending on why we are here.  So do I.  Let’s compare notes. Please.”

Makas didn’t move a muscle, but Anda could feel the future sliding around in the force as he considered various options, from stepping around her, to retreating, to actually talking to her.  Eventually, he chose the third option.

“You go first.”  He said.

Internally, Anda sent up a prayer of gratitude to the force.  “They claim this world is the founding world of the Jedi, but we are not on Ossus, Ash-To, or Coruscant.  They call it Tython.  They tell me I’m here to face my padawan trials before becoming a Jedi knight.  My first test is to recover some hologrammatic teachings by the founders of the Jedi order.  Evidently the area is overcome by things called flesh raiders.  Also, the Jedi have invented a code: There is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge; there is no passion, there is serenity; there is no chaos, there is harmony; there is no death there is the force.”

Makas considered briefly. “Useful but not comprehensive.” he said.

Anda nodded.  “I agree.  Do you have any idea when we are?  I think we haven’t just traveled through space, but time as well.”

“I don’t.”

“What did you learn?”  Anda was very careful to control her tone to make this question imply that the answer was sure to be not just useful, but critical to their mutual problem.

“Substantially the same as what you told me.  This is the homeworld of the Jedi and they’re using a padawan, me, to fight off an attack on the landing pad, which strikes me as tactically suspicious.  Did you get assigned a master?”  Makas replied.

“I did.  You?”

“Evidently I need to wait for one to pick me.”

Anda flashed through what she could say to this. If she said it must have been some oversight, or that she was sure he would get a good one, he would probably think she knew something she didn’t, or that she was somehow insulting him in code.  A lot of bridges had been burnt between Anda Siv and Makas Goroc. Finally, she settled on: “I don’t expect you’ll have any problems.”

“We shall see.” Makas replied.  “I’m headed to the mainland to fend off the flesh eaters, which is a very encouraging name.”  His voice didn’t drip sarcasm, but Anda had known Makas since both of them were five years old and had no problem recognizing his real attitude.

“I’m going there too,” Anda said, “I’m supposed to retrieve some holographic teachings from the founding of the order.”

“Shuttles are very thin.  Engines are incredibly small.” Makas observed.  “Much smaller than what I’m familiar with.”

“Meaning we’re probably in the future not the past.” Anda agreed.  “So, probably a re-founding of the Jedi order.  Can we compare notes after we finish our tasks?”

“Okay.”

Makas Goroc stepped off the flier and watched Anda step off the one behind him.  She pulled out her datapad and consulted it, probably looking at a map.  Makas’s job was simpler, he had seen the flesh raider attack on the flight in, he just had to walk over there and stop it.

He walked over to the parapet, in front were some Jedi fending off blaster bolts.  The bolts reflected off their lightsabers, which was interesting.  In Makas’s experience, projectile weapons shot just that, projectiles, and when they hit lightsabers the projectiles stopped and fell to the ground.  It was also interesting that the Jedi weren’t pushing on to the offence.  They had enough people to do it, but only if they coordinated and worked quickly to overcome the flesh raiders before they broke through to something vulnerable the Jedi were trying to protect.  Makas took his attention off the defending Jedi and felt into the field through the force.

Flesh raiders, some anger, some greed.  Not a lot of coordination, but they were all pushed by something to all attack at the same time.  Makas noted where they were.

Other things:  various living things out in the fields, Anda Siv headed for a bridge off to the left, the Jedi…

A bunch of Jedi padawans in cages out in the field.  Some injured Jedi in a hollow in the rock further off to the left.  What were the adult Jedi doing?

Makas had been given some sort of staff/stick/thing.  Evidently padawans weren’t given lightsabers in this time, which struck Makas as kind of dangerous.

He descended off the parapet, walked through the Jedi defending the stairs.  One of them offered him some advice, something about the flesh raiders being nasty and mean, and maybe Makas should pull out his staff/stick/thing?  Makas didn’t think so.  Makas was an expert in basically every melee weapon that had been invented in his lifetime, but looking at these flesh raiders and sensing them in the force, he didn’t think he’d need the stick.

With no windup whatsoever, Makas suddenly turned into a blur as he force-leapt across the glade into the nearest cluster of flesh eaters.  He kicked one in the soft underbelly, hand chopped the next one in the gun hand, forcing him to drop his weapon from nerveless fingers, picked up a third one with the force and threw it into a fourth one, both crashed to the ground.  He charged at a fifth one and punched it twice, then left it gasping for breath while he slid past it and trip-kicked a sixth one, dropping it to the ground and smashing it in the face with an elbow.  He crossed back to the first two, kicked the first one in the soft underbelly again and flipped the other one onto it’s back.

He hadn’t badly injured any of them, but they all hurt. 

“Go home.” He growled.  “Come back some other day.”  He stood tall and wide as he could, making himself as threatening as possible. 

The flesh eaters fell for it, they picked each other up and ran across the glade towards the hills.

Makas turned to the next cluster of flesh eaters, stared at them briefly as he calculated his attack, then turned into a blur as he force-leapt across the field.

Mikkel Ansa woke with a start.  She was in a smallish room with seats along the walls, occupied by what looked like young people of various species, sitting with expressions of various intensity and equipped with some kind of staff weapon.  Looking at her own hand, she discovered she was…young.  Much younger than she remembered being.  She found a reflective surface and checked herself out.

She saw a tall, powerfully built woman with a mane of flaming red hair over an intense face that was sharp and angular but still attractive.  Herself in her early twenties, in other words.  She checked various places discreetly: she had the scars of her whole life, not just the ones she had when she was young.  Mikkel looked around again, she didn’t recognize any of these people.  Heck, some of them were of unfamiliar species.  She reached out with the force and sensed them.

Dark.  All of them.  And force sensitive.  Young and various levels of poorly controlled.  Their feelings ran the spectrum of smug arrogance to outright terror.

Mikkel suppressed her desire to ask where they were and waited.  Soon enough, a door opened and in walked another person.  Older, more focused, armed with a lightsaber.  “Okay, we’re here!” the stranger barked.  “Slaves to the right, free gentlepeople to the left.  Let’s go.”  The entire wall opened on the other side of the room, lowering to become a ramp to the ground outside.  It looked like a red and dusty place, devoid of water and smelling of iron.

Mikkel got up and followed the others, turning to the left.  When no one said anything Mikkel concluded she was a free gentleperson, then turned around to look at the room she had just been in.

That was a shuttle.  She had landed in a shuttle and not felt it.  At all.  How was that possible?  She spent some time examining the shuttle and it was definitely like nothing she had ever seen, with fantastically compact engines and a design that had a nodding acquaintance with aerodynamics but didn’t seem to take it really seriously.

“At last you’ve arrived, good, good.” a voice said.  Mikkel turned around to see a human male, tallish but shorter than herself, dark of skin and carrying a lightsaber.  Mikkel sensed him in the force: dark side, moderately powerful but nothing special.  “I am overseer Tremel.  For decades, I have administered the trials that prove who is and is not worthy to join the Sith Order.  The trials are a way to weed out the weak, those who face them either survive to become Sith, or die.”

Mikkel almost replied that she was no trainee when the force gave her a nudge.  Don’t.  Not yet. Lie and find out.  “Well, given the alternative I hope I measure up.” she said.  She wondered what a ‘Sith’ was, and why it merited the capital letter.

“You had better.” Tremel said.  “You are here ahead of schedule because of me.  I expect you to obey.  You face your trials, you serve me, and I will make you the most powerful acolyte here.”  Mikkel raised her eyebrows at that.  She didn’t think he expected her ambition to stop with that, and she wondered where he was going with this conversation.  “The trials themselves are difficult enough, but they are hardly the greatest threat you face.  There is an acolyte here named Vemrin.  He is your enemy and he will try to kill you.  We must prepare you.”

Mikkel decided some arrogant student speech was required here.  “Let him try, I’ll destroy him.”  She paused for a moment to reflect on how she was lying with the absolute truth.  She didn’t care one way or the other about this Vemrin, who she had never heard of before, but there were few people who could match her in power, and certainly none were on this small plateau the shuttle had landed on.

“With my guidance, some day you’ll destroy all our enemies.” Tremel replied.

So that’s your play, Mikkel thought, bring in an acolyte to do your dirty work.  Pretty standard for a darksider, I wonder if you have something original.

“That practice sword you arrived with is insufficient, the blade of lesser acolytes.  You need a dominating weapon.  In the tomb of Ajunta Pall, there exists a Sith armory.  A strong Sith warblade awaits you there.  The tomb is thick with k’lor’slugs, deadly savage creatures.  Be speedy but careful, they’ve been the end of many an acolyte.”

I guess tomb robbing is original. I would have preferred something original and relevant.  Also…less melodramatically tawdry? Mikkel thought.

“Once you acquire the warblade, spend some time in the tomb bloodying it.  Then come to my chambers in the academy.”

So, not less melodramatically tawdry. Internally, Mikkel sighed.

“I look forward to finding out what you have to teach me.” Mikkel said.  She gave him a smile with a little english on it, to see if he’d respond to her charms.  He didn’t.  He just turned and stalked off.  Mikkel cast her gaze about, wondering where she was going to find the tomb of Ajunta Pall.

Anda Siv walked up the gentle slope to find the three padawans the master back at the flier landing pad had told her about.  She still wasn’t entirely sure why the Jedi master hadn’t gone out and rescued three obviously vulnerable padawans himself, particularly in light of the fact that the Jedi hadn’t been pushing back against the flesh raiders until Makas Goroc had been unleashed upon them.  Anda was considering what that might mean when she came around the last rock and saw the three of them standing there.

“So!” she said, throwing a cheerful tone into her voice.  “I’m glad I found you.”  She looked down at the dead flesh eater on the ground.  “Your doing?”

“He attacked us.” one padawan said.

“We defeated it.”  the second one said, “but Jerridan got hurt.”

“We should go get them!” the first one exploded.  “People who hurt Jedi don’t deserve to live, we need to teach them a lesson.”

“Avitla,” the second one said, “We need to take care of Jerridan.  We should wait for the medical shuttle.”

“You’re a padawan.” Avitla said, pointing at Anda, “What do you think?”

Anda paused for a moment and reflected on the number of times she had answered various forms of this very question.

“You think we need to kill the flesh raiders so we can defend the prestige of the Jedi?”  Anda asked.

“I think we should punish them for what they did!”

“Because they hurt Jerridan, or because they hurt a Jedi?”

“Isn’t it the same thing?” the second one said.

“What are you getting at?” asked Avitla.

“If it’s because they hurt Jerridan, that means you’re taking this personally.” Anda explained, “If it’s because he’s a Jedi, that means you want to defend the prestige of the Jedi themselves.  Which do you think?”

“Jerridan.  Jedi.  Both!  I don’t know.” Avitla said, dropping her stick-weapon.

“That is wisdom.” Anda said, stepping closer to the other three.  “The first step to controlling your motivations is recognizing them, and the first step to that is realizing that you don’t recognize them.”  She stepped closer to Avitla and looked her square in the eye.  “You want to kill them because you’re angry, and you’re angry because you’re scared.  Scared that Jerridan got hurt, scared that you might get hurt.  You’re also a little ashamed because you were surprised and you think Jedi should be more aware and tougher.”  Anda said, she paused a second or two to let that sink in, then launched into the important part of the lesson: “And all of that is okay.  It’s natural to be scared, and ashamed, and for that to make you angry.  It’s natural to want to reach out and squeeze the life out of the thing that hurt you.  But it’s not what light side Jedi do.  We use force to protect and defend, not to express our anger or project our power over others.  That’s for the darksiders.”

Avitla looked up suddenly and drew in a breath.  “You don’t mean-”

Anda put a reassuring hand on Avitla’s arm.  “I don’t mean.  You didn’t turn yourself into a darksider just by becoming angry.  You’ll be fine, and eventually graduate to become a fine Jedi someday.  Don’t worry about it.  But for now, get on the medical shuttle with Jerridan and Mennaus.  They need you now.  Others will take care of the flesh raiders.”

“Yes, Master.” Avitla said, then she caught herself “I don’t mean-!”

“On my last world, they used to call me ‘master’ all the time.” Anda said, grinning and giving her another reassuring pat. “Don’t worry about it.  Get on the shuttle, help Jerridan, and go back to your training.”  She turned to go.

“Thanks again, ‘master.’”  Mennaus said.  Anda turned to grin at him and noticed the considering look he was giving her.  Mennaus would bear watching.

Makas fumbled with the communicator device and finally turned it on, then flipped it right side up.  A small holographic image of the Jedi who had first told him to address the flesh eater attack appeared.  He seemed injured.

“You’re unharmed, good.  Flesh raider shot me in the leg while I was rescuing some padawans.”  the Jedi said.

“Do you need me to come get you?” Makas asked.

“No.  I’ve been evacuated to a medcenter, but the fighting isn’t over.”  Makas looked up from the holocall and around to the rest of the field.  He had just finished with the last flesh raider group, it looked like the fighting was, indeed, over.  “Another padawan found a cave tunnel the flesh raiders used to enter this valley.  I need you at that tunnel, making sure the flesh raiders don’t get any more fighters through it.”

That sounded pretty important.  “Will do.  You have coordinates?” Makas replied. 

“I’m sending them now.” Derrin said, and sure enough the coordinates appeared on the holocommunicator, then on Makas’s datapad.  Makas checked the map, oriented himself, and took off for the cave at a fast jog.

The cave itself was fairly unremarkable.  Shallow.  No major structural weaknesses.  Full of rocks.  The back of the cave was profoundly interesting.  A human man was there standing over a Bith dressed in Jedi padawan robes who seemed injured and was laying on the ground.  Both were force users.  Light side.

“Stop struggling, padawan.” the human said, “Your life was over the moment you set foot in here.”

“You are Jedi,” said the padawan, “Why kill me?”

“Because the order must evolve, and you are weak.” the man said.

“Evolve how?” piped up Makas, striding up to the two of them.  He wanted the man’s attention on himself and not on the padawan.

The man turned to him.  “The Jedi order is weak.  Soft.  No longer true warriors.  It must be purged so it can grow strong again.”

This was a stereotypical thing for a darksider to say and Makas felt the other man through the force again.  Was he actually dark side and Makas had been wrong?  He still didn’t feel dark.  He could be covering it up, which made sense for being on a Jedi homeworld, but Makas didn’t think so.  He might be some sort of dark side dupe.  Makas had known plenty of darksiders that had duped lightsiders, and plenty of lightsiders that had duped themselves.

“Weak how?” Makas asked.

“Hmm.  You are…dangerous.  You killed my soldiers.” the man said.

“No, I didn’t.” Makas replied.  “I defeated them.  I convinced them to run away, but I didn’t kill them. You probably think this is that softness you were talking about but it’s not.  Now please, come with us.  We’ll take you to the temple and you can talk to the masters.  If there’s a problem with the Jedi, the masters should hear it.”  Makas suppressed an internal flash of sarcasm and forced himself to believe that the masters could and would help.  Right now he needed the other man to believe him.

“You’re right.” the man said, “I do think it’s weakness.”  He gestured and a pair of particularly large and burly looking flesh eaters came out.  The man lit a blue colored lightsaber.  “The Jedi order must be purged.  May as well start with you.”

The fight itself was not appreciably longer or harder than the ones against pure flesh raider groups.  Makas stepped forward and slightly to the side, presenting a perfect target for the other man’s lightsaber.  When he swung Makas dodged underneath the strike and stepped in quickly, finding himself almost chest to chest with the other man.  He reached up with one hand, felt the lightsaber hilt, and pressed the button to turn off the weapon.  With the heel of his other hand Makas struck the other man full in the face and he went down.  Makas spun to the second flesh eater, used basically the same trick to dodge into them, and then stood behind it and grabbed its weapon arm.   He controlled the flesh eater’s weapon arm and used it to smack at the weapon arm on the first flesh eater.  The free flesh eater retaliated and Makas blocked the blow with the head of the flesh eater he was controlling, then force vaulted over the held flesh eater as he was falling, stepped in close to the free one again, and jammed another heel of the hand strike into that flesh eater’s face.  For a split second the flesh eater grinned at Makas, then fell over unconscious.

“That was amazing!  I thought we were dead!”  the padawan said, getting up.  Makas shrugged noncommittally and turned to look at the entrance of the cave.  He had felt a force sensitive person coming in.

The approaching force sensitive person was another human male with sandy brown hair and a lined, careworn face.  Makas guessed he was in early middle age, maybe 55 or 60.  He jogged up to Makas and the padawan and asked if they were okay.  Makas let the other Jedi talk to him and the master knelt down to check the unconscious kidnapper.

“He’s certainly no Jedi.  At least, no Jedi that I recognize.” the master said, which Makas felt was kind of uninformative.  “I’d call him Sith, but the Empire doesn’t know where Tython is.”

Makas paused to wonder what the hell the Sith and the Empire were.  The master took the lightsaber off the kidnapper, stood up and said “This lightsaber, there’s something familiar about it.  Strange.”  Then the master turned his attention to Makas.  “You held off all these attackers by yourself, with only a practice sword.  Impressive.”

Makas just shrugged and reflected that he hadn’t even used the stick.  “I used to practice hand to hand combat a lot on my last couple of worlds.” he said.  The master nodded, and then stepped to the part of the cave that seemed to attach to the flesh eater realms.  He held up his arms and reached out through the force to the roof of the cave.  It shook and shimmied and eventually caved in and sealed off the connection to the flesh raider areas.

The master turned to Makas.  “Speaking of Jedi I don’t know, who are you?”

“My name is Makas Goroc, I just got here on this planet, evidently for my trials.  Can you tell me where to go next?”  Makas said.

“Take the trail up to the temple.”  the master said.  Makas bowed and thanked him, then the master and the apprentice Jedi left the cave carrying their new prisoner, leaving Makas all alone with his thoughts.

The tomb of Ajunta Pall was trivially easy to get to, being exactly on the path between the landing site and the academy building just across the valley.  This was not encouraging to Mikkel.  Unrobbed tombs tended to be away from major traffic arteries.  Still, it was worthwhile to go in and look.

K’lor’slugs turned out to be six- to eight-foot-long creatures that looked like a cross between a cockroach and Cthulhu.  They had aggressive dispositions to match the ambient aura of dark force energy that seemed to permeate the planet.  The only good thing about them was they made a satisfying pop when they exploded from the impact of a training stick.  Mikkel killed the last one outside the tomb, walked in and came across a wounded soldier.

“Acolyte, please help me.” the soldier said.  “There are tomb robbers in the tomb.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised there’s anything left to rob.” Mikkel said.  “Considering how logical everything else has not been since I got here, I guess Ajunta Pall was some prominently stupid dark force user who died defending the road from cthulhuroaches and was popular enough to be buried on the spot where they fell?”

The soldier looked completely blank.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not important.  What do you need, soldier?”

“I am the sergeant in charge of this squad, we were sent to this tomb to get rid of the k’lor’slugs and the tomb robbers infesting it, but every time we attack one group, the other group attacks us.  You are a powerful warrior, can you help us, acolyte?”

“Okay, but you will owe me, and I intend to collect.  This especially means that you need to not die in here.” Mikkel said.

“Of course, acolyte, thank you.”

The k’lor’slugs seemed to hang out more towards the entrance to the tomb, which Mikkel thought wouldn’t be the case if the tomb robbers had done a good job of covering their exits.  Still, they were no match for Mikkel, and she used the opportunity to stretch her combat and force abilities and get re-familiarized with moving and hitting things.  Once she felt sufficiently limbered up, she went looking for the first thing she really needed.

She found it in an acolyte fighting some k’lor’slugs in an isolated room all by herself.  She didn’t seem to be doing very well, and finally Mikkel stepped in and rescued her from the last couple of monsters.  Then Mikkel turned around, picked the acolyte up by the neck, and shoved her against a wall.

“What is a Sith?” Mikkel asked.

“What?  Is this some kind of test?” the acolyte gasped.  “Let go of me.”

“What is a Sith?” Mikkel asked again, slightly more patiently this time.

“Sith are force users, masters of the dark side.  Under the emperor, they rule the Sith Empire, they are enemies to the light side Jedi of the galactic republic.  We are here to face the trials to become Sith.”

“Where are we?  What planet?”

“Korriban.”

“And this is the capital of the Sith Empire?”

“No, that is another planet, Dromund Kaas.  This is where acolytes go to become Sith.”

Mikkel thanked the acolyte and set her down.

“You’re not from the empire, I can tell.” the acolyte said, rubbing her neck.  “Listen, how about we make a deal.  You help me with my quest for a new weapon and help me out of here, and I help you when we get to the academy.  I teach you our history and culture and help you not make any embarrassing mistakes that might get you run through with a lightsaber by an angry Sith.  My name is Andosia Kalal.”  She stuck out her hand for shaking.

At least that gesture was familiar.  Mikkel shook the hand.  “Mikkel Ansa.  What quest are you on, Andosia?”

“I have to get a new weapon from the tomb.  Overseer Tremel sent me.”

Mikkel threw back her head and laughed.  “I think we can do that.”  She patted the smaller woman on the shoulder.  “This way.”

They fought their way to the armory in the Sith tomb and found only one Sith blade still in it.  Mikkel gave it to Andosia, then they started working their way to the back exit out of the tomb.  Mikkel found herself no more educated in who the hell Ajunta Pall was and was kind of irritated by the professional tomb raiders they encountered along the way.  Unlike the k’lor’slugs they were intelligent enough to know which end of a weapon went where, and worked with each other in fights, which forced Mikkel to pay closer attention and break out more advanced techniques with them.  Mikkel wasn’t happy about having to give this much effort to what were essentially street thugs and vented her displeasure on the tomb robbers themselves.

Eventually they found the back entrance to the tomb, just before coming out into the sunlight, Mikkel turned and faced Andosia: “You’ve been staring at me funny for the last twenty minutes.  If you want into my bed, just ask.  Otherwise, what is your problem?”

“You’re much better than the other acolytes.”  Andosia said.

“I had a competent teacher.” Mikkel replied.

“You flow, and your stance is too easy, and you make those blocks like they just aren’t a problem.  You’re no acolyte, you’re a fully trained Sith.”

Sigh. “Oh?”

“And yet you claim to be an outsider and know nothing of the Sith Empire.” She gasped suddenly. “You’re an assassin!”

Mikkel had been expecting to be accused of being an instructor.  “What?”

“You’re a fully trained Sith assassin, here for one of the Darths.  I am going to turn you in and I’m going to be rewarded.” Andosia said.  She fairly glowed with anticipation.

Mikkel pinched the bridge of her nose.  In the old days, she would have sent acolytes like this off to fight lightsiders and get killed.  Why were there never any lightsiders around when you needed them?  “Andosia, when you were in your early training, did they say anything about deception?  Subtlety?  Misdirection?  Timing?”

“Of course.”

“Did you listen to them?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

Mikkel suddenly stepped right next to Andosia and slammed her in the gut with the hilt of her practice sword.  Andosia bent double and contorted her face in pain as she tried to get her diaphragm to let her breathe again.  “Because, Andosia, you have none of those things.”  Mikkel swiftly stepped to the side and suddenly brought her practice stick down on the back of Andosias neck.  Neatly, precisely, brutally.  Andosia collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes and began to twitch as her crushed brain stem failed to send any coherent signals to the rest of her body. “You should have hidden your suspicions, and you should have lied to me when I asked you.”

In the force, Andosia’s soul/being/personality/oneness screamed in terror and pain.  Mikkel wondered if any of the other force users here would pick up on it, then reached out through the force, found the other woman’s neck, and crushed it.  Andosia faded from consciousness as her brain failed and then died.

Mikkel picked up the Sith sword (whatever that meant) off Andosia’s cooling body and walked out into the sunlight.

Anda Siv looked up at the Jedi Temple.

In her day, the headquarters of the Jedi order had been a campus:  Dorms, kitchens, practice fields.  The council of masters had met in an ordinary meeting room in an administrative building.  Sometimes in the cafeteria. 

This thing was a single, monolithic building.  In and of itself that wasn’t a bad thing.  Anda preferred the old way of her time, but she detached herself from any ownership: these Jedi had set things up their own way, and seemed to like it well enough.

She found Master Yuon’s office occupied by both Master Yuon and a lizardman that she didn’t recognize.  Yuon was apologizing to him for something, saying it was out of her hands.  The lizardman said some things in its own language which Anda did not understand.  Fortunately, her holocomm did and wrote out the translation as she looked at it.  Something about that being unlike master Yuon.

Yuon apologized again and turned to introduce Anda.  The lizardman’s name was Qyzen Fess, he was a Trandoshian on a hunting expedition, which evidently was sacred to his people.  Qyzen was pleasant enough and excused himself to go scouting before the light changed too much.

Yuon mentioned that some people and even some Jedi disapproved of her friendship with Qyzen Fess, and she wanted Anda to meet him before she encountered those opinions.  Anda gave that some thought.  Most likely Yuon was merely teaching the ancient Jedi lesson of “judge things for yourself,” but she could have had a deeper meaning.  Anda decided that Yuon bore closer watching.

They talked about Anda’s recent mission.  She had collected three of the four holograms of the founders of the Jedi order.  These founders were definitely people Anda had never heard of, but they had the basic lessons of the Jedi order down pretty well.  The fourth hologram, however, had gone missing.  Yuon pointed out that that was no ordinary hologram: it was the hologram of master Rajivari.

“Rajivari was one of the Jedi founders.” Yuon explained, “He…turned to the dark side.  He betrayed the order he helped to found.”

“So, if his hologram has been stolen, it’s almost certainly by someone either with or wanting to learn the dark side.” Anda concluded.  “Are there fully developed dark side Jedi here?”

“There are no Sith on Tython.” Yuon replied.  “If there were, the council would sniff them out.”

“Somebody stole the Rajivari hologram.”  Anda pointed out.  “That person either evaded the council or the council knows about them and is letting this happen for their own purposes.”

Yuon didn’t think so: “The thief is likely from Kalikori village.  Twi’lek pilgrims, here illegally.  Many of them are poor or hungry.”  Yuon said.  Anda thought that reasoning was kind of specious unless Yuon knew something Anda didn’t.  On the other hand, Yuon almost certainly knew a good many things Anda didn’t.  “They are escaping religious persecution. They found sanctuary here, but without the republic’s permission.  I’d like you to go to Kalikori village, find the person who took the hologram, and retrieve it, but tread lightly.  The Twi’leks are here in defiance of republic law, we’re forbidden to fully defend them, even when flesh raiders attack.  Relations are…strained.”

“Master Yuon, surely it would be better to either break the law and defend them, or fold them into the Jedi enclave?” Anda said.

“This is the Jedi council’s judgement.  I might disagree, but the decision is made.”  Yuon said.  Anda speculated some more.  Maybe Yuon and the council meant this as some sort of test: choose between doing the right thing or doing what the authorities say.  Morality or obedience.  That was an important lesson for prospective Jedi, it would make sense for the council to find out what they had.  Alternatively, maybe everything was exactly what it seemed to be and the council were short-sighted fools.  If that were the case, that may be the reason she and Makas were here.

Yuon was continuing to talk.  “When you reach Kalikori village, find Bashenn, captain of the village guard.  He knows everyone, he may have seen the holoprojector.  I think meeting these pilgrims would be a good lesson for you padawan.  May the force be with you.”  Anda decided that Yuon telling her that meeting the Twi’leks would be a good lesson was not a good sign: if it was a test, she wouldn’t want to give the game away that it was one, and if she suspected that a padawan about to go through the trials hadn’t learned about morality and obedience and when to choose which already, then that didn’t bode well for the standards of Jedi education here.

Makas Goroc was answering his holocommunicator.  The design was still unfamiliar, but he was getting better at it.  The form of a tall, dark-haired woman in a Jedi combat outfit sprang up in the six inch holovolume above his communicator.  “Padawan, I’m Satele Shan, leader of the Jedi council.  I’d like to speak privately with you before we meet with the others.”

What was this all about?  “Of course, Master Satele.  Where would you like to meet?”

“Come to my meditation room in the temple, we’ll talk there.”

“I’ll go there now.”

Satele Shan was considerably taller and more solid in person.  She was a tall woman but not excessively so, thin but muscular, with black hair, done up in some sort of short braids that were ornamented with various bangles.  She gave off that aura of powerful calm, like a strong current underneath a still pond, that the good masters tended to have.  Makas waited for her to finish her meditation, he suspected that she was not doing that to impress her authority on him.  More like she just wanted to finish one thing before attacking the next.

Eventually, Satele Shan finished whatever she was doing and stood up.  “Welcome padawan.” She said.  “The temple is already buzzing with accounts of your heroism in the training grounds. Master Orgus told me you battled flesh raiders, and a force user armed with a lightsaber.  That must have been a disturbing confrontation.  Are you alright?”

Once again, this confusing world forced Makas to lie, or at least dissemble.  “The force was with me, I am fine.” Makas replied.

“Even the most experienced Jedi can be affected by violence.  Taking a life affects the living force, and the Jedi who does the killing.”

Makas was keenly aware of that but decided not to press the point now.  Thinking back on it, disarming and defeating a force user armed with a lightsaber while using only his bare hands was probably not a skill Makas wanted to advertise while he wasn’t sure about these Jedi and their intentions.

“Of course, Master Satele,” Makas said, “I will focus upon that in my meditations, and reflect on how I have changed and seek help if it is needed.”

“Good.  This is why Jedi enter battles calmly, with reason.  Emotions like fear and anger lead to the dark side.”  Satele said.  Makas felt that was kind of simplistic, but again didn’t want to press the point now.  “As the Jedi code teaches us, there is no emotion, there is peace.  Remember these words when times are darkest.  And take this.  The code is a source of strength, but a little backup never hurts.  See you in the council chamber.”  Satele went back to meditating and Makas wandered off to explore the temple and examine his gift, a smallish combat knife.

A few minutes later he was summoned to the council chamber and entered it to find Master Satele, Master Orgus Din - the master he had met earlier in the cave - a regal Torguta woman, a much younger red-headed human woman standing behind her, and two people in hologram forms: another human male, more scarred but less aged than Orgus Din, and a Kel Dor male, staring intently over his breathing mask.  The Tortuga woman, almost certainly a master Jedi herself, said, “I searched the temple archives. This force user leading the flesh raiders never received Jedi training.”

“Then the Sith have found us.  Shouldn’t we get ready for them?” asked the red-headed Jedi.  She felt less focused in the force.  A student?

Orgus Din pointed out that they couldn’t be certain of anything yet and called the second Jedi a padawan.  Definitely a student.

The first master said: “But we’ve all sensed a growing darkness.  Perhaps it’s finally revealed itself.”

Makas chose his words carefully: “This definitely bears investigating.” he said.  Good, not committed one way or the other, and not stepping on any master’s toes.

“Everyone, this is the padawan who saved our people in the training grounds.” Orgus Din said.  “This is master Kiiwiks and her extremely vocal padawan, Kira.” He indicated the Tortuga and the Human woman student.  “The other masters are transmitting in from distant worlds.”

Internally Makas shrugged.  In his time, one hardly called other worlds in the same solar system distant, but to get a message from another system via hypership would take at the very least several days.

“It’s unfortunate our numbers are scattered.” Kiwiiks said.

“Indeed.” Said Master Satele.  “The temple’s safety is unexpectedly threatened.  The flesh raiders were disorganized primitives before today.”  Makas was pretty sure that the combat talent he saw in this room, not counting him, could have handled at least two simultaneous flesh eater raids like the one he had just fought off, but again not a point he wanted to press right now.

“Much of Tython remains unexplored.  And we have few resources to spare.” Satele continued.

“I’ll handle it.” Orgus replied, “With the help of my new padawan.”

It took Makas a second to realize Orgus meant him, then he immediately had to stomp on a flash of anger and resentment.  I had a master, Makas thought, his name was Kunal Lin.

Kiiwiks was talking: “Orgus, you haven’t taken a padawan since Coruscant.”  Hmm.  Coruscant is still a place, and at least rates a Jedi presence.

“I can think of no finer master to complete this padawan’s training” Satele answered before Orgus could.

“I am honored.” Makas said, deciding to buy time and try to fit in while he worked out what was going on.

“Don’t get too excited.” Orgus replied.  “It’s hard work.  You’ll find supplies in my chambers, go equip yourself and meet me there.”  Makas bowed to the assembled Jedi, turned and left.

Makas was picking out equipment in Orgus’s office when the master walked in.  “Blast those council meetings,” he said, “I’d die of old age before my colleagues ran out of things to say.”

Makas considered how to respond to that, and then decided to play the young padawan: “I’d rather do something about problems than discuss them.”

Orgus played his part.  “Still, there are times when talking is exactly what’s needed.”  Then he moved on.  “This situation has come to you fast, you’re braving dangers many Jedi never face.  I wouldn’t blame you for having questions, this may be the only time to ask them.”

Makas did have questions.  About the flesh raiders, about the force user in the cave, about the makeup of the Jedi order and why they didn’t have enough combat power to handle the flesh raiders when it was obvious that they did.  About the darkness Kiiwiks sensed, and what that meant.

Questions led to answers, which led to more questions, and more answers.  By the end of it Makas felt he was fairly caught up on recent Jedi history: Up until ten years ago the Jedi order had been much bigger and based out of a temple on Coruscant, which was still the capitol of the galactic republic.  Then the darkside Jedi, who had broken off, called themselves the “Sith” and founded an empire, came out of hiding and attacked again.  They had wiped out the Jedi temple on coruscant, forcing the Jedi to move to this temple here and killing a not insignificant number of Jedi in the process.  Orgus didn’t know what the dark shadow might be, but the flesh raider attacks concerned him: flesh raiders were barbarous, true, but they mostly kept to themselves until now.  The force user in the cave was proof that they were being used for some purpose, and if his words were to be believed, that purpose was to purge and cleanse the Jedi order of hesitancy and weakness. 

The piecemeal attacks like the one today weren’t going to cut it, but if that force user had enough backing and could get enough flesh raiders moving fast enough, they could do it.  According to Orgus Din, there weren’t enough Jedi on the planet to hold off a truly dedicated attack.

Orgus continued, “Anyway, to find out more about the flesh raiders, we’ll need allies.  There’s a group of Twi’lek pilgrims on Tython, they’ve been fighting the flesh raiders for months.  The Republic asked us to deny the Twi’leks aid - they settled here illegally - but frankly, we need them.”

“We would have them already if we’d helped them despite the Republic.” Makas said. 

“I agree, but what’s done is done.  The Twi’leks have a settlement in the mountains, that’s your next stop.  It’s probably under siege so you’ll have to fight your way in.  Establish a base camp when you get there and speak to the matriarch.  Find out everything the Twi’leks know about the flesh raiders.”

Orgus shot up several steps in Makas’s estimation from that.  It was a sound, workable, constructive plan.  He’d been worried that the Jedi had abandoned sense in this time.

“Will do, master Orgus.” He said, “I’ll call you when I have something, and we can compare notes.”

“I’ve heard the matriarch isn’t our biggest fan, you may have to convince her otherwise.  I’ll join you soon, may the force be with you.”

“Hey there, acolyte.  Hold on a moment, let me get a look at you.” A reasonably athletic human male and his much pudgier friend were standing in the hallway as Mikkel went to find overseer Tremel’s office in the large stone temple that served as Korriban’s main Sith school.  They were both carrying the sticks acolytes were issued in this place.  Mikkel came to a stop and waited patiently.  “Hmm.  So, you’re overseer Tremel’s secret weapon huh?  Impressive.  Afraid the old man waited too long to make his move, though.” The thin, athletic one said.

“What in all the gods’ names are you talking about?” Mikkel asked.  She reached out with the force.  Both were darksiders, currently being powered by rage and ambition.  The one in front of her was reasonably impressive for a trainee.  The portly friend was nothing special.  Mikkel knew she could kill both of them whenever she felt like it, so she saw no reason not to let this play out and find out who they were or what they wanted.

The thin one spoke again: “I’m Vemrin, and unlike you I’ve fought and bled for everything I have.  I demand respect.”

And I demand an ice cream sandwich Mikkel thought, about as likely to get one.  Aloud she said “Okay, I respect you.  What is this about?”

“Believe it or not, I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.  If overseer Tremel had made his move a year ago, before I arrived, you might have had a chance, But now, too little too late.”  Vemrin said.

“Vemrin?  Where’ve I heard that name before?” Mikkel said, taking a studied pose and tapping the side of her chin.  She suddenly snapped her fingers and simultaneously used the force to push out a short sharp feeling of fear into the two acolytes.  Give him credit, Vemrin held still.  His friend jumped a little. “Tremel warned me about you!  Something about you being my hated enemy and you trying to kill me.  Do you mind if I call you Vermin?”

The friend spoke up.  “This is ridiculous Vemrin, let’s just kill her and hide the body.”

“I wondered why you hadn’t opened with that.” said Mikkel.

“We’re not on Balmorra anymore, Dolgis.” Vemrin said, addressing his friend, “There are rules.  Traditions.  We’ll leave the shortcuts to overseer Tremel and his last pathetic hope here.”

“Well, that answers that.” Mikkel said.  “See you later!”  She made it as chipper as was possible and gave the two acolytes a little wave.

“Coming Dolgis?” Vemrin said, striding past Mikkel down the hallway.

“Be right there, Vemrin.” said Dolgis, then, to Mikkel: “Listen to me you useless priss.  Acolytes aren’t allowed to murder each other, but accidents happen.  It isn’t murder without witnesses.”

“And it isn’t murder if I goad you into attacking first.” Mikkel said.  “You should probably check your underwear drawer for itching powder.  Have a nice day!” 

Dolgis tried again: “No more warnings.  Vemrin’s the alpha monster here.  You go after Vemrin, you die.”  He turned and left.

Mikkel turned the next corner and discovered Tremel’s office.  “Good.” He said as she stepped in, “You’ve returned.  You seem to be in one piece.  Tell me, how do you like your new blade?”

Mikkel took it out and fondled it.  It wasn’t a blade, exactly, more of a reinforced pole of metal with a foil grip, handguard and reasonably sharp tip.  Fantastic for dueling romantic rivals on a deserted bridge at midnight, but otherwise not an optimized weapon.  “Honestly?  Not especially.” she said.  “The balance is weird, the metal looks kind of fatigued, and I was training in lightsabers when I was eight, so this is kind of a step back.  Still, tradition is tradition.”  Mikkel had no idea if acolytes using sticks instead of lightsabers was a tradition or not, but considering everyone was doing it, she guessed it probably was.

The attractive woman standing next to Tremel piped up.  “What are you doing, father?  I only just got my warblade and I’ve been here six months.”

Tremel answered: “I have my reasons, Eskella, and you will not breathe a word of this to anyone, do you hear?”  Mikkel wondered if Tremel was setting his daughter up as a double agent or if he genuinely wanted to protect her from whatever horseshit the new warblade was going to entail.  He was deep enough in the dark side to do either.

Eskella said “Yes, father.”  deferentially enough that Mikkel suspected Tremel was in earnest, which was refreshing.  Mikkel hoped he stayed that way.

“Acolyte, this is Eskella, my daughter.  She is one of the advanced students here.  On her way to becoming Sith, if she minds herself.”

Mikkel bowed slightly to Eskella. “Then I hope to learn from your wisdom.  Pleasure to meet you.” No sense making enemies you don’t need.  Particularly of the boss’s daughter.

“I’ll keep quiet about your new charge, father.” Eskella said, “But I won’t be there if whatever you’re planning blows up in your face.”  Mikkel sensed genuine filial concern and was gratified to feel it.  Most of the people she’d met so far seemed to be overblown caricatures.  Eskella bowed slightly to her father and walked off, giving Mikkel a moderately hostile glance.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just sore that she’s keeping secrets, she growls but she’s loyal.”  Tremel said.

Mikkel decided to dispense some truth: “She’s loyal to you as her father and is concerned about you.  In a place like this, someone who genuinely cares about you is a pearl beyond price.  Don’t waste it.”

“Someone thinks they’re the master and I’m the acolyte.” Tremel said, without rancor but also without humor.  “Now, I thought I heard Vemrin’s voice in the adjacent chamber before you arrived.  Did he make his move so soon?”

“No, he just wanted to try to scare me first.  I’m not worried about him.” Mikkel said.

“I’m glad you feel confidence in your abilities.  Still, I’d hoped we’d have more time. Vemrin isn’t the type to sniff around for too long before trying to take a bite.  In a drive for sheer numbers, the criteria for academy admittance has been relaxed.  Now anyone with force sensitivity is allowed entrance.”  Oh, you guys are going for drones. Mikkel thought, give any force sensitive dipshit some dark side training and a lightsaber and turn him loose.  The lightsiders must be having a field day.  “Vemrin is mixed blood.  The invisible rot eating at the foundation of the empire.  He must not be allowed to advance.”

Mikkel hid her surprise and distaste.  You have got to be kidding me.  Miscegenation laws?  Mixture of what and what? “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.  Sooner or later he’ll make his move and I’ll kill him.” Mikkel said.

“Unfortunately, Vemrin’s caught the eye of Darth Baras, one of the most influential Sith lords.  He’s being groomed to be Baras’s new apprentice.  As Darth Baras’s apprentice, the power at Vemrin’s fingertips will be considerable, he could change the Sith for the worse.” Like you’re trying to do?  “You must proceed to your next trial immediately.  I want you to interrogate three prisoners in the academy jails and decide their fate.”

Seems easy enough.  “Where do I go?”

Tremel didn’t answer. “Consider each criminal’s story carefully.  The decisions you make will be scrutinized, so let your passions guide your judgements.  Go to the academy prison, speak to head jailer Knash and return to me when you’ve passed judgement on the prisoners.”

Head jailer Knash turned out to be a slightly underfed and mean looking bald human man, talking to a rather attractive head-tentacle alien in one of the cages.  “One more chirp from you little bird, and you’ll regret it.” he said.

“Chirp, chirp chirp!”  the prisoner replied.  Knash reached for his belt and activated a shock collar on the prisoner’s neck, sending a painful shock down her spine.  “Ow!” she said, “Jerk.  If you don’t like that just say so.  I can do other animals too.  Dire cat.  Frog-dog.  Kowakian monkey lizard.  You name it.”

Mikkel decided she liked this woman.  She strode in before Knash could think of something else to do.  “Are you jailer Knash?  I’m here for my acolyte trials.  I’m supposed to judge some people?” She flashed the prisoner a smile.

“Tremel sent you?  He thinks highly of you.” Knash said. 

“Well, I hope to live up to his expectations.” Mikkel said.

Knash said, “You should know this situation is highly unusual.  Normally an acolyte goes offworld for their interrogation.  Overseer Tremel had these three shipped in for you.  He thinks you’re the next coming of Exar Kun.  But you ought to know, Tremel ain’t the only one paying attention to you.  Now, these three prisoners have been transferred here for your inspection.  You gotta interrogate them as needed, then decide their fate.  The convicted are usually executed or given a trial by combat to see if they’re worthy.  Whatever you decide, you will be the one to carry out the sentence.  Now, this one on the left…” He pointed to the first prisoner.

Mikkel turned to her, a human woman who was somewhat the worse for wear after time in a cage.  She said, “You freaks aren’t going to get anything new out of me, just do what you’re gonna do.  There’s no such thing as mercy here.  I know how this story ends.”

Mikkel turned to Knash and raised an eyebrow.  “Impudent to the last.” he said.  “She was sent to kill an imperial spy in the Yavin system.  Throughout her torture, she maintained that she was hired anonymously.”

Mikkel was impressed.  “Get it through your damn head!” The prisoner said.  “I had no idea he was an imperial, and I don’t know who hired me.”

“So you’re not a lightsider assassin?” Mikkel asked.

“A what?  I’m not political.  I work for whoever pays.”

Knash said, “The point is, she doesn’t deny the charge.  So now you must choose: execution or trial by combat.  Which do you choose.”

“Neither.” Said Mikkel, then turning to the prisoner.  “You’ve been hired.  The rate is whatever the base pay at imperial intelligence is.  You’ve just become an assassin for us.  I recommend you start paying attention to who you work for from now on.”

Mikkel walked over to the second prisoner who spoke up: “Please, I am a fellow Sith.  Judge me with an open mind and grant me trial by combat, I beg you.”

He thinks he might be executed and doesn’t want that to happen. Mikkel thought, Why?  She arched an eyebrow at Knash again.

“This pile of waste is Davotek.  Once a valued Sith champion, until he botched an important mission and caused a thousand imperial deaths.  Now look at him.”

“I served faithfully for twenty-four years.  Then one mistake and they threw me away.  Now I have been left here to rot.  Please, let me feel the weight of a weapon once more.”

Mikkel felt him through the force.  Darksider for sure.  Some shame there, and arrogance.  As he was warming to his topic, he was starting to stand on what he thought were his rights.  The last woman had been worth saving, this man?

Nope.  Liability.  Without saying a word, Mikkel reached out through the force, grabbed Darotek by the neck, and snapped it.  He collapsed to the ground and the expressions on his face mirrored the pain and surprise in his force presence as he died.  Mikkel stood and watched it briefly.

“Good.” Knash said, “I won’t have to look at his sad face anymore.  Thank you.”

Mikkel looked at Knash coldly.  “You of all people should know that how you treat people will come back to haunt you,” she said.  “You should think about that.  Next prisoner.”

Knash moved on.  “This last prisoner is a bit of a puzzle.  He’s called Brehg, and he’s a jittery little wretch, suspected of supplying forged documents to republic agents.  Strangely enough, he maintains his innocence despite being severely tortured.”

“That’s because I am innocent!  You have to believe me, I had nothing to do with forging any papers!  Set up!  I was set up!”

In the force, he was definitely agitated enough to be lying, but that might just have been the torture.  Darksiders in this world were fools.  “Oh?” Mikkel said.

“I did some time in a republic jail for forgery so I was the perfect candidate to implicate in this, but I’ve been straight since coming out of jail, I swear!”

Knash sighed.  “He’s never wavered from that line and the evidence is circumstantial.  I suppose it’s possible that he really didn’t do it.  What do you decide?”

Mikkel had finished deciding already but stood a short while as if in thought.  “It doesn’t matter if he’s innocent or not.  You’ve just been hired by imperial intelligence too.  If you’re a forger, we may as well use your talents somewhere it will do some good.  Welcome to the empire.”

“Thank you!” the prisoner said, “Your mercy is-”

“Stop right there.” Mikkel said.  “Nothing about this is mercy.  The torture ruined any chance we’ll get the truth out of you and to be honest I don’t care anyway.  You’ve got your new cage; you can go to it.”  Mikkel turned to Knash and gave him a dark look.  “Remember what I told you.” she said, and then stalked out of the room.

The tentacle alien turned to Knash.  “Chirp?” she said.

“Don’t start with me,” Knash said, wearily sitting down.

“I’m sorry” she said.  “That Sith was kind of scary, and you deal with them a lot?”

“All the time.”

Tremel was sitting at his desk talking to another acolyte.  “Is this everything?” he said.

“Everything lord Renning was able to obtain, yes.” the Acolyte replied.

“Then run back to your master in the beast pens.” Tremel said, “Before I cut you in half.”  The acolyte left and Tremel turned his attention to Mikkel.  “Sorry to make you wait, acolyte.  These interruptions are incredibly annoying.  On to the business at hand, your test in the jails.  First, the assassin Solnitz.  She attempted to kill an imperial spy but was unaware of her client’s affiliation.  You assigned her to imperial intelligence.  I commend you, that was excellent thinking. Never waste a potential resource.”

“Waste not, want not.” said Mikkel.

“Now, Davotek, the former warrior.  He wanted combat but you struck him down.  Perfect, the man was utterly useless.”

“If he’d shown ambition or the desire to improve himself, I might have thought differently.” Mikkel replied.  “As it was, he wasn’t an asset.”

“Lastly, the forger you also sent to imperial intelligence.  You said it doesn’t matter whether he was guilty or not.  Why?”

“Intelligence doesn’t let forgers wander around freely.” Mikkel said.  At least, I hope not.  Somebody’s got to be competent around here. “So if he’s guilty it’s not like he can do it again.  We always need good forgers, so why not put him to work?  Waste not, want not.”

“Each time, each prisoner, you made a different, insightful decision.  You may yet be able to challenge Vemrin for Darth Baras’s attention.  Now, we must hurry to the next trial.  In the caverns of Maka Ragnos is the beast he left behind to guard his legacy. Go there, sit among the flames, and wait for the beast to come for you.  Don’t be rash, defeating this creature will take your best effort.”

I doubt that.  “I’ll go there now.” Mikkel said.

Anda Siv got off the flyer pad and watched the next flyer come in.  It contained Makas Goroc.  He got off, looked at the Twi’lek village, then turned towards Anda.

“Here to see the leader?” he said.

“No. At least, not initially.” Anda replied.  “I’m tracking down a holorecording of an ancient Jedi.  Evidently he went dark.  You?”

“Flesh raider attacks aren’t random, something or someone is guiding them.  Be careful outside the defended areas.”

“You know we’re not supposed to defend this area.”  Anda said.  This was a play several layers deep: She knew Makas would expect her to say that as a representative of the council authority, she also knew that there was no way Makas was going to obey that dictum, and that he also knew that she knew that.  If she truly wanted him to do what the council said, she would have said something else that would have persuaded him more effectively.  By saying what the council wanted, she was giving him tacit approval to do what he was always going to do.  She knew this wasn’t going to make Makas totally comfortable with her, but it was a step forward.

She watched Makas work his way through that chain of reasoning, come to the conclusion that she approved of him defending the village, then wonder why.  “Who are you off to talk to?”  he asked.

“I’m looking for Bashenn, captain of the village guard.  Evidently, he knows everyone.  That should help out.”

“You need me to escort you through the flesh raiders?”  Makas replied, nodding his head at the firefight going on at the edge of the village.

Anda turned to look at the firefight, felt it in the force.  “I don’t think so.  I’m…in my early twenties now?”  She looked down at her body.  “I should be spry enough.”

“Be careful.  I’m thinking there’s a darksider behind all this.”

“I’m not completely incapable, Makas.” she said, “But, I will be careful, just to soothe your worrying.”

Makas gave her a dark look.   “Okay, I’m off to see the matriarch.  See if we can learn more about the flesh raiders.”

Bashenn seemed to be a healthy example of his species.  Anda was starting to like Twi’leks.  They seemed to be an intense people, generally positive and friendly, but dangerous enough if provoked.  This particular Twi’lek was getting ready for a celebration of some sort. 

“Break out another cask, or three!” he said, “This celebration only comes once a year, our stores can take it!”

“Just as well,” a rather more morose Twi’lek said, “We have an uninvited guest.”

Beshenn turned to Anda.  “I see.  Festival of awakening, Jedi.  You’re not welcome here.”

Anda put on one of her more disarming smiles.  “That’s too bad, my capacity for ale was legendary in my younger days.  I guess I’ll just have to satisfy myself by asking you a question, then I’ll get out of your way.”

“What do you want?” asked another Twi’lek.

“I’m hoping you might help me find something.  Someone took a Jedi relic, a holoprojector.”

“A holoprojector huh?  I know what you mean.  Nalen found one, Nalen Raloch.  Maybe you’ve heard of him.”  Bashenn said.

Anda frowned.  “I’m afraid not.  Where can I find him?”

Bashenn said, “Nalen Raloch is our dueling champion for nine years straight.  He once rescued an entire scouting party from flesh raiders single handed.  He planned our defenses.  Protects us when we go foraging.  Without him we wouldn’t even be having the festival.  And no, I am not telling you where he is, Nalen earned his peace and quiet.”

“I am glad your village has such a formidable defender.” Anda said, “Particularly since the Jedi have failed to help you.  I need to find him, or at least have you pass on a message:  The information in that hologram isn’t safe.  If Nalen doesn’t handle it correctly it could really injure him, or possibly the whole village.”

“Nalen can take care of himself.”  Bashenn said.

“Against flesh raiders, sure.” piped up the morose Twi’lek, “But some of that Jedi shit is weird.”

“I’ve seen tech like this kill people.  Or turn them into monsters.” Anda added.

“Okay fine.” Bashenn said.  “Nalen went into flesh raider’s territory.  He’s probably still there.  He’s been gone a while.”

“Thank you.” Anda said, “Which way did he go?  Also, has he been acting strange lately?”

Bashenn said, “He’s been keeping to himself more.  He went off to the flesh raider settlement if you can call it that.  Off that way.”  He pointed towards the firefight between the flesh raiders and some of the village guards.  “If you see him, tell him to be back for the feast.”

“Thank you again.” Anda said, “Oh, and one last thing, did you see another Jedi, arrived the same time I did?  He was headed for the matriarch’s hut.  Keep an eye out for him.  If you give him space, he’ll probably save the village.”

She set out at a light jog.

A few polite inquires brought Makas Goroc to what looked like the most ostentatious residence in the village, although that wasn’t saying a whole lot.  Inside he met a powerful Twi’lek woman who was not entirely impressed that he was there.

“So, the Jedi finally deign to notice my people’s suffering?  How noble.” The woman, Matriarch Suman Tao’Ven by name, said.  “Nothing to do with the attack on your training grounds, I’m sure.”

Makas quirked a rueful smile. “That is the event that set in motion the chain of events that led me here.” he admitted.  “But the flesh raiders are a threat to everyone on Tython, and they’re being coordinated somehow.  If I can stop that, I can protect your village, preferably without having to station a Jedi here permanently.”

“My scouts have tracked the flesh raiders for months, watched them grow in strength.  I will share what we’ve discovered, but only if you agree to protect my people.  We…We suffer.”  Matriarch Suman said.

“Mother,” the matriarch’s daughter, named Ranna, stepped in.  “You need rest, let me carry this burden for you.”

Makas felt into the force.  Matriarch Suman was much frailer than she looked.  She didn’t have much time left.  He stepped forward, crouched slightly to get his head down to her level and looked her in the eye.  “Matrirarch,” he said, “I will defend your village.  No matter what the council says.  The flesh raiders will not have it, and I will protect your people.  All your people.  Please go rest.  I will consult with your daughter and find out what your scouts know.”  The matriarch looked at Makas, nodded tiredly, and walked back to her private rooms.  Ranna turned to him.

“They teach flowery speeches at the Jedi academy?”  Ranna said.

“It’s an elective.”  Makas said, still watching the matriarch as she retreated.  “Sometimes people need hope. Sometimes the best way to give that hope is to pull out all the stops on sentiment.”  He turned to Ranna and looked directly at her.  “And sometimes I mean exactly what I say.  Tell me what your scouts know.”

The scout chief, name of Morrint, stepped over from where he’d been deferentially waiting on the side of the room.  “Personally, I don’t care why you’ve come, as long as you destroy the flesh raiders.  Ever since they got their new weapons and gear, they hunt us like animals.  The enemy has a camp in the valley nearby.  My scouts say the flesh raiders store their weapons in a cave.”

“That sounds like a good place to start.” Makas said.  “Give me the coordinates.  And are there other Twi’leks with business in the valley?  I may as well kill several birds with one stone.”

There were, in fact, several Twi’leks with people or things missing in the flesh raider valley.

Mikkel Ansa found herself talking with one Lord Renning, who had a theory about the force and living things.  They were standing at the flier landing in front of a small dirt plain that led to Maka Ragnos’s tomb.

“The force is alive,” he said, “it expresses its will in the physical world.  This tucata is one such form.”

Mikkel looked askance at the dead beast.  Evidently the will the force was manifesting in this creature was ‘claw, bite, be ugly and smell bad.’

“You sound like a lightsider, you know.” Mikkel said.  “The force’s will this and the force’s will that.”

“Sith are the highest manifestation of the force’s will.  I’ve dissected hundreds of tucata, forming a direct connection to the dark side.” 

Now Mikkel looked askance at Renning.  “You’ve just stopped being a lightsider.”

Renning wanted Mikkel to kill a tucata mutant that had escaped into the tomb she happened to be going into and bring back its brain.  Mikkel agreed to do that if she came across it.

As Mikkel was leaving, Renning’s apprentice Malora took her aside and said: “Renning is insane.  I need to prove that to the council, then I can take his resources and put them to some practical use.  If you help me with this, I will help you in return.  Bring the brain to me first and let me modify it so Renning can’t use it.”

Mikkel liked that idea.

Anda paused outside the abandoned camp inside the flesh raider cave.  She centered herself, reached out with the force, felt.

A hologram projector in the camp, not precisely dark side itself, but channeling dark side energy.

A humanoid in ambush on the far side of the camp.  Not flesh raider, Twi’lek.  Prepared to kill, but not intent on killing.  She could probably talk to him.

Anda went into the camp, reached out to the holoprojector, and deliberately tripped the alarm rigged to it.  She hoped it looked like an accident.

“You make a lot of noise.” The Twi’lek said, coming out of hiding and walking up to Anda.  “I was expecting flesh raiders.  Instead, I find a Jedi padawan.  I come to listen.  To think among the dead.  To fight for my people.  Why have you come?”

“I’ve come for this.” Anda said, indicating the holoprojector.

“I’m called Nalen Raloch,” Nalen Raloch said, “The others in the village spin tales of their ‘legendary protector.’  They don’t understand.  Are the flesh raiders destroyed?  No.  My people aren’t safe until my learning is complete.”

Anda felt Nalen again in the force.  He was force sensitive, though untrained.  He seemed to have opened himself up recently to more force abilities.  And the dark side was starting to slide its tendrils into his soul.  But it hadn’t got him yet.

Nalen continued.  “Tython’s relics still have lessons.  I listen.  I can do things I never imagined possible.”

Anda decided to change the script.  Being a confrontational Jedi would probably get her nowhere.  “Like what?” She said, sounding genuinely curious.  “I’m as interested to learn the secrets here as you are.  Can you tell me what it told you?”

“It told me how to kill.  How to drive the flesh raiders to extinction, then drive off the Jedi, and make Tython ours.  We hold this world, and we defend it.”

Anda considered this. That Nalen was talking about defending his village was a good sign.  Usually people falling to the dark side followed one of several more or less defined paths.  Nalen’s path was to have a desire to preserve/defend/fix something, then be willing to pay any price for it, then to get more powerful.  After a while, the gaining power became an end in and of itself and the person sacrificed the thing they were defending.  That was when they had fully fallen.

Of course, it didn’t always go that way.

All that ran through Anda’s mind in a split second.  Nalen, both heedless and uncaring about the other’s thought processes, reached out in the force and started shaking the cave they were in.  Rocks started falling.  “The flesh raiders will come, but not leave.  A merciful death compared to what my people have suffered.  Flee, if you don’t want to die yourself.”

Anda reached out in the force herself and seized the cave, then stabilized it.  “Listen to yourself.” She said, “You are talking about trapping living beings and either crushing them to death or trapping them here to die of asphixyation or thirst.  This is cruel and wrong.  There are other ways to end the flesh raider threat.”

“They are flesh raiders!  You’ve seen what they do to people, they deserve so much worse!” Nalen said.  Anda could feel him redoubling his efforts.  She continued to hold him off. Then she felt the will of the force.  Leave him, it seemed to say, he has his own path to walk.  Let him walk it.

Part of being a Jedi is obeying the will of the force.  Anda released her control of the cave, reached out through the force, flew the holoprojector to her arms and ran.

Makas Goroc had never seen a droid before, so he wasn’t sure what to do with the object in front of him.  In the force, it felt like a particularly complicated rock, but deeper in were strong and powerful threads of destiny that tied it to the fate of the galaxy.  This droid was important.

Makas decided to err on the side of this being a person, if it was just a rock, he could always apologize to it later.  “Hello?” he said.

It lit up, rolled forward a bit, and beeped at him.  Then it beeped some more, ending in an inquisitional sound.

“I’m sorry.” Makas said, “I don’t speak beep.”

His holocommunicator buzzed. 

Makas took it out and answered it.  No hologram came up until the object started beeping again, when words started to appear in the holofield.

“This unit = T7-01.” It said, “You = Jedi?”

“I am a Jedi.” Makas said.  “Were you captured by the flesh raiders?  Do you need rescuing?”

“T7 = not a victim // T7 = doesn’t need rescue // T7 = Jedi reconnaissance droid.”

“Well, I could use the help.” Makas said, “truth be told, I’m incredibly lost around here.  Do you shake…manipulator appendages?”

A door opened in the front of T7-01 and a kind of grasper claw popped out.  They shook on it.

“T7 = simulated deactivation + used spy camera  //  T7 = recorded flesh raider allies” T7 said, then it flashed up a holorcording of a flesh raider and two humanoids.

“Teach our soldiers how to use these weapons.” one of the humanoids said, “train them on the Twi’lek invaders.”

“When will we strike against the Jedi?” asked the second humanoid, who Makas suddenly recognized as the flesh raider leader he had defeated in the cave at the training grounds.

“Patience, Callef.  The Jedi will fall when our army reaches full strength.” the first humanoid said.

The hologram ended.  Makas said, “The second one, Callef, was coordinating a flesh raider strike on the padawan training grounds, I saw him.  He’s being held by the Jedi for interrogation right now.  I think these two might have jumped the gun a little.”

“T7 recording = useful // Jedi = take T7 to safety + remove restraining bolt.”

“What’s a restraining bolt?”

“Restraining bolt = droid control device // Restraining bolt = malfunctioning = must be removed.”

“You mean an obedience device.” Makas said, sobering up suddenly.  “I’m not much of a mechanic but I’ll remove it.  Tell me what I need to do.”

Makas and T7 found the missing Twi’lek alive and surprisingly healthy at the Flesh Raider camp.  He actually came right up to them as Makas was dragging a cart full of recovered weapons through the flesh raider village.  Makas was surprised he hadn’t attracted a mass of flesh raiders eager to get their weapons back.

“Hey, are you a Jedi?” the Twi’lek said, running up a little breathlessly.

Makas straightened up.  “I am.  So far as I know my companion is not.  What do you need?”

“I need your help.  You must come with me.” The Twi’lek said.  Makas patiently dragged the weapons cart up the small hill the Twi’lek turned and climbed up.

At the top they found a flesh raider teepee, along with a flesh raider in the flesh.  It was standing there with a Jedi training sword on its back and, so far as Makas could tell, attempting to smile.  Makas could instantly feel it in the force: a sensitive.  “You a Jedi!” the flesh raider said.  “Jedi talk.  Jedi peace.”

Makas turned to the Twi’lek and arched an eyebrow.

“He means he wants to talk to you, not to fight.” the Twi’lek said. 

“Aren’t you Viyo?  Weren’t you kidnapped?” Makas said, “That’s what they are saying down in the village.  They asked me to find you.”

“I’m the only one he understands.” Viyo said.

“Head thing talk, head thing talk!  Learn power.” the flesh raider said.

“I’m trying!” Viyo replied to the flesh raider, then he turned back to Makas, “He wants me to talk to you, he thinks he can use the force and he wants Jedi to train him.”

“You want to become a Jedi so you can be more powerful?” Makas said, turning to the flesh raider.

“Jedi = most powerful people ever” T7 said.

“Yes, learn power!” said the flesh raider.

“Okay, that’s not how any of this works.” Makas said.  “Being a Jedi is about helping people, not about being more powerful.  And you definitely don’t start by kidnapping someone. To become a Jedi you will have to study very hard, not just at learning powers, but at being kind and helpful and patient.  Is that what you want?  If all you want is power, buy a ticket off world and go find a darksider.”

“Please listen.” Viyo said, “He’s calm now, he’ll stay calm if we talk.  The force overwhelms him.  He needs to learn from the Jedi to control the power.”

“This is not encouraging me.” Makas said.

“Take power, hunt power!  Go rock den.  Head thing flesh.” the flesh raider said.

“He won’t let me go unless you help him get into the temple.” Viyo said.

“No.” said Makas, turning again to the flesh raider.  “You want to learn from the Jedi? This is what you do.  You let Viyo here go, without condition.  I take him back to his village.  You walk down that path,” he pointed down the path to the Jedi temple, “towards the rock den, you take your stick and you break it where they can see you.  Then you sit down in a field and wait.  Eventually a Jedi will come out to you and you will ask for training.  You say exactly this: please train me.  Do you understand?  Say it back.”

“Please train me.” the flesh raider said.

Makas nodded.  “Good.  Now listen carefully.  This is your first test.  If you get impatient and start yelling or attacking people or going in without permission the Jedi will kill you.  You need to wait until they come out.  Actually, if you do everything right they might kill you anyway.  Are you still willing?”

“Please train me.” the flesh raider said again.

“Okay.  The temple is down that path.  Remember what I said.  May the force be with you.  C’mon Viyo.”  Makas turned to leave.

“Actually, I want to go with him.” Viyo said.  “He isn’t good at making himself understood.”

Makas gave Viyo a considering look.  “They might kill you too.” he said, “or kill him in order to rescue you before you can say anything.  If you come with me you make it back to the village.  If you go with him, you’re taking a big risk.”

“I know, but I still want to help him.”  Viyo said.

“Okay.  Do you have your datapad?  Give it to me for a minute.”  Makas took the datapad and wrote a note on it.  “Show this to the Jedi when they come up.  Maybe it will help.”

Why the heck these Sith people sent their trainees into tomb after tomb was a mystery to Mikkel.  She liked her trainees where she could see them, for a start.  Maybe it was easier to dispose of the corpses if they were already in a tomb.  Dark side training seemed to have a high attrition rate on this world.

Mikkel finally made it to the meditation chamber inside the tomb of Maka Ragnos, (who presumably was some bad ass darksider from some time ago) and sat down to meditate. 

She felt the force, felt herself at the center of her awareness, the air, the rock of the tomb, the gigantic creature coming down the adjacent hallway towards her, the aura of darkside that seemed to permeate the whole world.  She extended her awareness out further and then realized… No one was watching her.

She could stretch her legs.

The gigantic creature burst through the door to the chamber, only to get slammed back with the force and then pinned in place by a giant statue that Mikkel threw at it.  She leapt through the air, landed on the statue and bashed the creature in the face twice with her training stick.  She leapt back out of the way as the creature threw off the statue and charged into the room with her.

She played with it a couple of minutes, dodging or blocking its swipes and knocking it back with the training sword.  Eventually she got tired of this game and reached deep into the force.  She lifted the creature up.

She choked it, using the force.  She let the giant creature’s terror and confusion wash over her and feed her.  It thrashed and beat the air as it struggled to breathe.

Eventually it grew limp.  Then faded and died.  Mikkel cut off the body part needed to prove she had killed it, then turned and left.

Back at the open air laboratory, Malora got her beast brain.  Mikkel gave her a knowing wink, then stepped out of the valley as he heard Renning calling the Sith council.  Honestly, he didn’t deserve power if he wasn’t going to check his demonstrations before he demonstrated them.  Malora was a better bet.

Makas finished with the various errands he had run in the flesh raider encampment and walked back to the Twi’Lek village hall.  Ranna was there, along with master Orgus and another Twi’lek named Saylew angrily talking about what the flesh raiders had done to his wife.  Ranna said some comforting things and seemed genuinely touched by his suffering.

“For every one the flesh raiders kill we should kill ten, no a hundred!” Saylew said.

“Will that restore your loved one to life?” Master Orgus said, managing to sound like he felt the loss too.  This was a trick not all Jedi managed, and it raised Orgus in Makas’s esteem.

“Don’t lecture me, Jedi, my wife is dead!  Our people, slaughtered!  Where were you then?”  That was one of about six standard answers to Orgus’s line, in Makas’s experience.  He decided to interrupt the conversation before it became shouting and recriminations.

“I have retrieved the flesh raider’s weapons.” Makas said, interrupting the circle.  “You can defend yourselves now.”

“Finally, someone who understands.”  Saylew said.  He turned to Ranna.  “Give me those weapons.  We’ll have revenge.  We’ll have retribution.”

Ranna was not as bloodthirsty: “Go and mourn your wife, Saylew.  I’ll organize a militia to protect the village.”  Saylew stalked off, not steaming but not overjoyed either.

“He still wants revenge, but at least he isn’t armed.” Orgus said, turning to Makas.  It took Makas a second to remember that Orgus was supposed to be teaching him.  “People wonder why the Jedi are forbidden to marry and have families.  They don’t see how attachments always lead to suffering.”

Makas was so shocked he let his mask slip and the expression of astonishment reached his face.  He distinctly remembered Jedi being allowed to marry and have families.  The best marriage he’d ever seen or even heard of was between a Jedi and a non-Jedi.  They’d had three fabulous daughters.

Orgus took it as an opportunity to lecture.  “Passionate emotions can destroy a person, and Jedi destroyed by passion become something terrible.”

“T7 = Salutes master Orgus // T7 Reconnaisance report = ready for delivery.” T7 said.

Master Orgus listened to T7 then turned back to Makas, “While I deal with the droid, talk to Ranna.  I think her people are ready to help us, thanks to you.”

“I’ll do that.  Thank you for helping me, T7.  It was an honor to work with you.”  Makas bowed to the droid, then crossed the room to Ranna, feeling the currents of sadness flowing through her.

“With the weapons and technology you brought from the flesh raiders, my people can defend themselves.  Your heroism gives me hope that we will survive this.”  Ranna said.

“You will.  How is your mother?” Makas asked.

“Not well, but we’re doing all we can.  Thank you for asking.”  This time the tendrils of sadness flowed a little through Makas, too.  Ranna turned to the guard standing to the side, “Moorint, our friend should know everything we’ve learned about the flesh raiders.”

Moorint walked up.  “Scouts report the flesh raiders are gathering in strength.  They already control the mountains around us, and now they’re invading the ruins at Kaleth.  My men spotted them at the remains of an ancient shrine, close to your Jedi temple.”

Orgus also came up.  “Kaleth was a great city of force users.  Its ruins hold power we still don’t understand.” He said.

“The flesh raiders are looking for something there.” Moorint replied.

Orgus turned to Makas.  “We can’t let them find it.  Drive back those flesh raiders immediately.  I have to take this droid back to the council.”  Then he grew pensive.  “That hooded figure in the holo, I know his voice.  The situation is worse than I thought.”

Makas debated the merits of asking Orgus who he thought it was.  Orgus was obviously not ready to say anything, and Makas was equally sure that knowing who that was would shed light on what the flesh raiders were doing and probably suggest a more efficient plan of action.  He decided against it: the attack on the ruins had to be dealt with first anyway and giving Orgus a chance to be surer about what he thought was going on would save Makas some valuable esteem in Orgus’s eyes, not to mention making it easier to convince Orgus to tell everything when the time came.

“Be aware that Kaleth is a place of great danger.” Orgus said.  “If you see that figure from the Holo, do not engage him.  Now get going.”

“Will do.” Makas said, giving a small bow.  He turned and left.

Anda found herself back in Master Yuon’s office.  Yuon was leaving her desk and coming up to talk to Anda.

“I just finished speaking with Ranna Tao’ven, the daughter of the village’s matriarch, concerning your visit there.  I want you to meditate on what you learned, such experiences are what shape us as Jedi.”

Internally, Anda felt a wry smile cover her, how often had she heard that?  How often had she said that?  Externally, she didn’t move a muscle.  “Of course, master Yuon.”

“Now, about the hologram.” Yuon continued.

Anda said, “It was acquired by a Twi’lek named Nalen Raloch.  He’d learned some darkside force techniques from it, but he hasn’t mastered them yet.”

“So he’s force sensitive.  Let’s see what this villager saw.”  Yuon pressed the button on the holoprojector.  An image of someone sprang to life.

“Activation protocols engaged.” It said.  “A few words, shall this be all my legacy?  No.  My enemies are long dead.  It is time.  I have left true wisdom behind, for those who follow where the first blade points.  From the sanctuary of the order.  All else is fleeting.”

Those are directions. Anda thought.  To what?

“My word,” Yuon said.  “True wisdom…Padawn, he’s talking about the fount of Rajivari!”  Anda looked puzzled and Yuon explained: “After Rajivari fell, sources claimed he created a great archive of his knowledge and teachings, the fount of Rajivari.  Generations of Jedi have searched for it with no results.  The fount is considered a hoax by all reputable scholars, but we just heard proof.”

Anda considered what would happen if that information came to a force sensitive person who didn’t know about the force.  “Nalen was already dangerous just by listening to the holorecording, if he or someone else finds this library…” Anda said.

Yuon mused, “The recording said: follow where the first blade points, from the sanctuary of the order…  Kaleth!  The ruins of Kaleth.  The name means sanctum.  It’s the remains of an ancient fortress.  Evidence suggests that Kaleth was destroyed in a great battle.  Old droids still walk those ruins today, but this first blade is a puzzle.”

“If it was a fortress, maybe they indicate a weapon that was stored there.  Possibly of a commander of some sort.”   Anda pointed out.

“We found several old weapons in one section, nothing like a first blade but a good place to begin.” Yuon said, “Ha, I’d planned your training so carefully, but the force has intervened.  Finding the fount of Rajivari and stopping Nalen must come first.”

“Sometimes the force, not the master, shapes the trials of knighthood.” Anda said.  “All we can do is obey.”

“You should know the council will disapprove of such training, but I will explain everything to them.” Yuon replied, “Focus on exploring Kaleth for this first blade.  Call me on your holocommunicator if you have any success.”

On the way back to Tennen’s office, Mikkel found Dolgis.  By himself.  “Well, look who’s here.  Remember me?” he said.

Mikkel came to a stop and stared at him silently.

“Notice anything interesting?  No witnesses.  No witnesses means no rules.”

Mikkel continued to stare.

“No more shortcuts, no more special treatment.  You’re going to be just another dead failure on korriban.”

Mikkel continued to stare emptily, as if she had encountered a piece of wall that looked like the paint might dry a bit.

Dolgis reached for his training stick.  Mikkel reacted like lightning.  She stepped in and to his side, whipping out her own training stick and driving it into the back of his knee.  He folded like an umbrella and crashed to the floor.  He managed to block a couple downward sweeps of Mikkel’s stick, then took a powerful force-driven kick to his ribs and slid across the floor.  He levered himself up against the wall and felt his ribs scrape against each other, then Mikkel was on him again.  He blocked one shot, then two, then fell for it when she feinted and her stick found his ribs on his other side.  Then she broke one arm.  Then the other.  His training stick fell from nerveless fingers.

“No!” he said.  “Hold up!  Look, I was wrong.  What they’re saying about you, totally true.  So…so strong.  I don’t want to die!”

Mikkel paused.  Held the stick in a mid-overhand guard position, point aiming at his chest.  “Can you take Vemrin a message for me?”

Dolgin exploded: “Yes!  Anything!  What is it?”

“I want you to serve as an example of what happens when you cross me.”  Mikkel stepped in and rammed the point of the training stick into Dolgis’s chest.  A rib snapped, carved in, pierced him in the heart.  He thrashed, fell and died as the surprise and terrifying realization that she wasn’t going to stop took over Dolgis’s mind.

Mikkel cleaned off her stick, then left him where he was and stepped into Tremen’s office.

“I seem to have made a slight miscalculation.” Tremen said after she walked in.  “The death of the beast in Maka Ragnos’s tomb sent ripples through the force.  Darth Baras sensed them and has requested an audience.”

Maybe I should have shown off less fighting that beastie. Mikkel thought.  Out loud, she said, “I’d better grant him one, then.”

“Baras is a serious man, and a master of deception.  Everything he does and says is calculated.”  Tremel warned.

“Oh, one of the competent ones.” Mikkel said, affecting unconcern.  “Well, thank the dark side for that.  Did he say what he wants?”

Tremel did not lighten up at all.  “He will attempt to trip you up, test your nature, get to the heart of who you are.  Always take him seriously, and I do mean always.  We might not speak again, acolyte.  You have the best chance of defeating Vemrin.  If you fail, I doubt there will be another strong enough.  Good luck.”

“You’ve been, as these things go, a good and kind teacher.  Good luck to you, as well.”  Mikkel said.

The flesh raider in Kaleth was definitely saying, “Jedi.” But it was drawn out in a peculiar way.  Makas put it down to accent plus an attempt to sound intimidating.  He decided to put on his brave Jedi act and see if the flesh raider would let down his guard, or better yet give up on this whole threatening Jedi thing and decide to go do something else.

“You don’t frighten me.” Makas said, standing defiantly.  The thing laughed, then slammed Makas with a force shove.  Makas went sprawling into the grass.

The brave Jedi act had not worked.  Makas watched as the flesh raider summoned a half dozen assistants.  He sighed in disappointment that his bluff hadn’t worked and picked himself up.

A minute later Makas was straightening out after knocking the last flesh raider unconscious when he sensed two more force users enter the glade he was in.  He turned to look at them:  Jedi, from the meeting with the council.  Master Kiiwiks and her student, Kira.  Kiiwiks was a Tortuga, a form of alien Makas wasn’t particularly familiar with, humanoid but with large head-tentacle-horn things.  Kira was a fully human woman.  Kiiwiks stood out in the force like the better sort of master Jedi: powerful, thoughtful, self-composed.  Kira was an intense focus of force power but jittery and sensitive.  She had a sort of chip on her shoulder that had been blunted during her time with Master Kiiwiks but wasn’t fully gone yet.

“Master Orgus sent us.” Master Kiiwiks said, “We came as quickly as we could.”

“That flesh raider could use the force.” Makas said, indicating the sleeping body of the first flesh raider. “I saw another one like that earlier, but this one was trained and he was on a mission.  He meant to defend this place.”

“That’s troubling,” Kiiwiks said, “If the flesh raiders are using the ways of the force, it won’t be on the side of the light.”

“I’m not so sure,” Makas said, thinking of the flesh raider he had sent to the Jedi temple, “but this one was definitely dark side.”

“You sure made short work of this bunch.” Kira said.  “Did you even draw your weapon?”

“Didn’t have to.” Makas said, “I learned some unarmed combat techniques I wanted to practice.”

“Show off.”  Kira said.  Makas grinned at her.

“If we could get back to the topic at hand, padawans,” Kiiwiks said.  She examined one of the sleeping flesh raiders.  “This flesh raider carried a holocron, a repository of knowledge created by a force user, thousands of years old, from the looks of it.”

“A what?” Kira and Makas said in unison, but with different inflections.  Kira couldn’t believe something so rare and precious was on a flesh raider.  Makas had never heard of one before.

“Master Orgus was right.  These natives are more advanced than we realized.” Kiiwiks continued, “They’re learning to fight us.”

“They’re being trained to fight us.” Makas said. “Why?”

“From their perspective, we’ve invaded their home, but there’s more to this than a territorial dispute.”  Kiiwiks said, regarding the flesh raiders.  “I wish Kira and I could stay and see this through, but Master Satele has ordered us to Coruscant on a special mission.”

Kira piped up: “All those bad feelings the council’s been having?  She thinks the republic capital is the source.”  So.  Coruscant is still the capital of the Republic.

“Then this flesh raider thing is a side show.” Makas said. 

“I’m sorry to have to leave you, but the danger has passed.” Kiiwiks said, “These surveillance monitors will keep watch on the valley of Kaleth.  Place these around the ruins, the temple can then monitor for any incursions by our enemies.”

Makas wasn’t so sure.  If they could teach a flesh raider to use the force, teaching one to EMP a security monitor would probably not be that hard.  He rubbed his chin in his thinking gesture.  “When I finish here, hopefully I can come help you.” he said.

“You have to finish with the flesh raiders.  May the force be with you, padawan.” Kiiwiks said, then the two of them turned to leave.  Makas watched them go briefly, then turned to set up the security devices.

In Kaleth, after fighting through a pack of powerful guardian droids, Anda found herself in front of an ancient computer console.  She pressed the activation button.  Nothing happened.

She was just about to turn and go when the computer spoke to her: “Greetings, Grandmaster Anda Siv.”

That was a surprise.  “You know me?” Anda said.

“You match the biomarkers of Grandmaster Anda Siv, grandmaster of the Jedi order between the years 2017 and 2069 of the republic era.  Your password has expired.  Please change your password to log in.”

What the hell was my password? “Where are we?”

“This is the planet of Tython, known in your time as Vistis three.  I am the archive computer of the Jedi enclave here.”

“Use my biomarkers to identify me.  Change to password Barlavon28.”  I should probably write that down.

“Password change accepted.  What are your commands?”

“Status report.”

“All systems critical.  Decay has reached critical levels.  This system has only nine minutes of functionality left.”

“Enact a safe shutdown and log me out.” Anda said.  Then a thought occurred to her.  “Wait, before you do that-”

“Standing by.”

“How long has it been since my last login?”

“Nineteen thousand, seven hundred forty-seven years, fifty-three days, seventeen hours, eighteen minutes and eight seconds.”

“How long?!” Anda Siv had once been thought of as unflappable.  She had thought of herself as unflappable.  Staring sudden death in the face without flinching was childs play.  She had faced down force storms, galaxy breaking destinies, the dark heart of a sun itself.

Anda stood and stared while her mind tried to process what the computer had just told her.  Twenty thousand years.  Twenty thousand years.  It was amazing people were still people.  And the language.  What am I doing here?  How did we get here?  Why?

“Two minutes of functionality left.”

“Enact a safe shutdown and log me out!”  Maybe we can dig you out and fix you later.

Anda was actually looking for a quiet part of Kaleth to digest this information when she came across the weapons droid.  She found herself staring at a rock carved with some sort of symbol.  “Show respect, you stand before greatness.” The droid said, stepping out from behind it.

Anda snapped back to the present.  “Please, accept my apologies.  I’m not myself.  Who are you?”

“The first blade, I guard.  It rests with the ashes of its maker, the Weapon Master.  He saw Jedi as warriors, not only philosophers, and armed them.  Protected them.  The first maker, the first Jedi Weapon.  From this beginning lightsabers came.”

Lightsabers are thirteen centuries old.  Were thirteen centuries old.  Do I remember the name of anyone from that time?

“That was the time of…Grandmaster Tam Al?”

“We do not know names.  Millenia pass, only hilt remains.  Only disturbed once.”

That got Anda’s attention.  “By who?”

“Rajivari came.  He proved worthy, permitted to take the hilt.  Later, returned it.”

“I need to borrow the hilt.  How do I prove worthy?” Anda asked.

“To prove worthy, prove that you have mastered Jedi combat, understanding.  The weapon master left training droids, find them, prevail.  The hilt of the first blade waits.”

Without another word, Anda spun around and strode off.

A short time later she returned.  The droid concentrated for a bit, then spoke.  “Telemetry is received.  All droids report your battle performance satisfactory.”   I should hope so, I left them as heaps of scrap.  “Take the hilt, treat with respect, fight with honor.”

The droid handed over a cylindrical object. It was…a lightsaber hilt.  Nonfunctional.  It was covered in symbols.

The thin, pretty acolyte looked at Mikkel and turned to her companion. “There Teeno.  That’s the one.”

“Really? All right.  Hey you!” the large stupid companion shouted, going up to Mikkel.

“Careful Teeno,” said the small one, leaping up several levels in Mikkel’s estimate of her intelligence.

The large one stayed stupid.  “Come on, I’m antsy for some action.  You, are you the big powerful acolyte everyone’s been talking about, the one summoned by Darth Baras himself?”

“I was hoping to not be talked about so much.” Mikkel said.

“Please pardon my overeager friend,” the pretty one said.  “It’s just that we’ve heard so much about you.”

Mikkel chuckled.  “I somehow doubt that.  What do you want?”

“We want to get in good with you.”  Teeno said.

“What my blunt partner here means is that if you need anything or anyone dealt with, we hope you will consider us.”

“You’re offering to fight Vemrin for me?”  Mikkel asked.

“Yes.”

“No.  Stay away from Vemrin.  I do have need of you, but not for that.”  Mikkel couldn’t resist slipping back into being a teacher.  “You need to learn how to use the force to tell you about people.  Find their strengths and weaknesses.  Let it tell you who to fight and who not to fight.  You’ll live a lot longer that way.”

“We want to prove ourselves.  We can handle him.” the smaller one said, they drew their training sticks.

Half a minute later the two students were sprawled out on the floor, sticks broken and scattered around them.  Nothing major inside them was broken, although everything hurt to various degrees.

“Allies are not useful if they have no sense.  Same with servants.  Go, practice assessing people with the force.”  Mikkel said, then she turned and left.

Back in the Twi’lek settlement, Makas met with Orgus Din and Ranna Tao’Ven, the matriarch’s daughter.

“How is your mother?” Orgus asked.

“She’s…getting worse.”  Ranna said, radiating sadness in the force.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”  Orgus replied.

“Master Orgus, is it true that when someone dies, they join with the force?”

“Absolutely.”  Orgus said, “Joining with the force is being embraced by unconditional love.  Your mother has nothing to be afraid of, death is just one of life’s transitions, is all.”

“That being said, it’s natural to feel sad that she’s gone.” Makas chipped in, watching Ranna carefully, “and to have a hole in yourself for as long as you live.  But eventually the hole… doesn’t exactly fill itself in but doesn’t hurt as badly anymore.  You make your peace with it.  Sometimes, it makes you stronger.”

Orgus gave Makas a considering look.  “Ranna, if you want to spend more time with your mother we understand.  Padawan Makas and I have to plan our next move.”

Ranna thanked them and left.

Makas waited for the lecture on the nature of grief and the importance of letting go.  Instead, Master Orgus turned to T7-01 and started to fiddle with it.  While he did so, he spoke, “Master Kiiwiks told me what you found in the Kaleth valley.  She seems to think that flesh raider learned about the force from an old holocron.  I wish that were true.  The man who attacked you when you first arrived?  His lightsaber had a familiar aspect, this droid’s holorecording confirmed my suspicions.”

“T7 = Sorry for bringing bad news.” The droid beeped.

Orgus Din continued.  “The hooded figure in that recording is named Bengel Morr.  He was my padawan, but he never completed his training.  Bengel was in the Jedi temple on Coruscant when the Sith destroyed it.”

“He seems to have survived.” Makas observed.  “You hadn’t heard from him?”

“I don’t understand why he just disappeared.  It doesn’t make sense.”  Orgus said.

He could have gone darkside or been captured. Makas thought.  You know that as well as I do.

Orgus mused some more, “Bengel was strong in the force, and the gentlest being I’ve ever known.  For him to turn against the Jedi… he has to be stopped.”  Makas didn’t need the force to feel the sadness in Orgus’s voice.

“Master Orgus.” Makas said, “It’s possible we can save Bengel Morr.  A thousand things could have happened to bring him to this place and many of them don’t involve him falling to the dark side.  If we can save him, we absolutely should.” He took a deep breath, he hated saying this part out loud.  “But it’s possible he can’t be saved.  If that’s the case…maybe you should let me confront him alone.”

Master Orgus behaved entirely predictably. “No.  He is my responsibility; I will face him.”

Makas tried again.  “Listen, if he is darkside he won’t be the first darksider I’ve dealt with.  I am at least as strong and a lot more skilled than he is, and if he can be saved I promise to save him.  Why subject yourself to the extra torture of possibly having to kill a trusted friend?  I know you’re the master and I’m the student but please, just this once, trust me to know what I’m doing.”

Master Orgus smiled and Makas knew he had lost.  “You are a brave and faithful Jedi.” He said, “And you’ve shown me skills few apprentices have, I’m sure you’ll make a fine Jedi knight.”  I know that.  “But you also know that the folds of destiny sometimes bend a certain way.  Bengel Morr is my problem and I will deal with him.”

Ranna returned.  “I have news.  The scouts have identified a flesh raider command base in the mountains.  It’s protected by an energy shield.  The shield’s power generator is hidden on a different mountain in a well-guarded cave network.”

“Wait,” said Makas, “outside the shield?  That was profoundly shortsighted of them.  Seems like a trap.”

“That command base is probably coordinating all the attacks in the region.” Master Orgus replied, “I need to get inside there.  You up for knocking out the power generator?”

“You mean, spring the trap?  I could do that.”  Makas said.

“Important secondary mission = perform high level scan of enemy forces // Mountain paths = too dangerous for T7.”

“Considering I’m probably going to be meeting the enemy forces face to face, maybe you should stay here.” Makas said to T7.

Orgus didn’t agree, “See if you can give the droid an opening to gather more intelligence.”

Makas decided not to argue the point, winning would gain him nothing and losing would cost him.  “I will keep an eye peeled for it.  Can you come with me, T7?”

“T7= give Jedi head start // T7 = follow when path is clear.”

“That energy shield is your top priority, knock it out as fast as you can.”  Orgus said.

“Now, most of you will not return from this endeavor.  If you die, you will be forgotten.  If you give up, you will be killed.  Now get out of my sight.”

The speaker was a largish…person? Encased entirely in metal.  The force said it was a person, anyway.  A person firmly attached to the dark side and of no small amount of power.  The voice was surprisingly pleasant and calming. The metal was a full suit of combat armor capped by a mask with a bland yet slightly menacing face carved upon it.

Mikkel walked into the anteroom and watched the line of acolytes turn and leave. Vemrin was responding to one of the acolytes who professed a bad intuition about whatever it is they were about to do.  “This is the end of the line for you Klemral.  Just make sure you stay out of my way.”

Klemral did get in a shot as the two of them walked up to Mikkel.  “Look here, Vemrin, I see the upstart, but no signs of Dolgis.”

Mikkel was about to put in something appropriate when the metal person spoke up again: “Klemral, Vemrin, you have been dismissed.”

Vemrin: “I underestimated you by sending Dolgis, it will not happen again.”  Then he left.

Darth Baras addressed Mikkel and asked: “Are you having trouble with acolyte Vemrin, supplicant?”

“Not especially,” Mikkel admitted.  “If he is accurate, he just said goodbye to me forever.  If he returns, he will find he is wrong.”

Baras lectured a little.  “He has been hardened into a lethal machine.   Vemrin has paid his dues.  He’s fought a deck stacked against him to get here, you on the other hand…”

“I, on the other hand, killed the beast in Maka Ragnos’s tomb.  Unless you keep a supply of spares?” Mikkel pointed out.

“Let me get a closer look at you.” Baras said.  Mikkel obligingly stepped closer.  “Yes, as I suspected.  Overseer Tremel has done you and the academy a great disservice.”

Mikkel, choosing not to tip her hand just yet, remained quiet and assumed a patient listening expression.

“Your warblade came early, prisoners flown in for your convenience, even a beast here on Korriban instead of offworld in the wild.”

That intrigues you, doesn’t it Mikkel thought, What do you expect to find?

Baras continued, “The pacing of the trials is deliberate.  Only full immersion over time produces results.  Your mind is soft, unhoned, undisciplined.”

You can’t possibly believe that.  Who are you lying to? Mikkel thought.

“The first month of the trials should be dedicated to philosophy, study of tactics, and understanding the Sith code.  Recite the Sith code for me, acolyte and explain it’s meaning in battle, war and politics.”

“The what?” Mikkel said, letting the mask slip a little, “There’s a code?”

“Pathetic.  I am your master now.  Tremel was becoming lax before you ever arrived.  His unwillingness to adapt to the evolving Sith paradigm has become a liability.”

Ah!  You want the talented acolyte as a resource and were waiting for an excuse.

Baras continued: “These are the actions of a traitor.  Traitors are executed.  I grant you immunity from punishment: Kill Tremel and bring back the hand as proof.”

And here’s the test.  Test of loyalty and of skill in one package, not bad.  “I will do that at once, Darth Baras.”  Mikkel bowed slightly and left.

Makas was just finishing up shutting down the energy generator inside the cave system when a holocall came in.  The figure was an unhooded Nautalan, an aquatic tentacle-headed creature, but not like the Twi’leks.  One of the few races Makas had seen since he got here that he remembered from the time before.  As soon as it spoke, Makas recognized Bengel Morr.

“You must be the padawan who slaughters my people.”  Bengel said.

“No one is dead.  Or at least no one is dead that I killed.”  Makas replied.

Bengel was not impressed.  “Your misguided attacks change nothing.  Your time is over.”

“What do you want?” Makas asked.  “Is this all just darksider hatred or are you trying to accomplish something else?”

Bengel flashed with anger.  “Orgus’s taste in padawans has grown weak, just as he has.  You executed my apprentice Callef.  I can feel his death on you.”

Makas rolled his eyes.  “He’s not dead either.  The Jedi captured him, he’s being held.  Presumably they haven’t gotten him to talk, or I’d know a lot more about why you are here.”

Bengel was still angry.  “I spent years training him.  He was a good man, a principled man.  Proud of yourself?”

That was interesting.  It was not the statement of a typical darksider.  Everything Callef had said or done that Makas saw was typical darksider material, except that Makas remembered what Callef felt like in the force and he wasn’t dark.  Maybe Bengel Morr wasn’t either.

Or maybe it was just an act to get an inexperienced padawan to hesitate at the wrong time.

“I gave Callef too much responsibility too soon.  His impatience for justice was his only failure.”  Bengel continued.

Honestly, he didn’t put the attack together all that well either.  Makas thought.

Bengel kept going.  “Every so-called Jedi on Tython is going to die.  That’s a promise.  Your entire order is weak.  You’ve done nothing to stop the Sith empire’s advances.”

More or less like we expected. Makas thought.  The Sith take out the Jedi temple on coruscant, Bengel is there, he gets traumatized by the event and concludes it only happened because the Jedi were defeated in battle and that is because Jedi aren’t sufficiently puissant warriors.  I wonder if he found a “crotchety old mentor” in a cave on a mountainside.  He goes off to train up for a while, gets an apprentice, and then comes here to take out the Jedi order and rebuild it in his own image. 

It's also an incredibly stupid plan.  Especially using the flesh raiders as foils.

“I cannot defeat the Sith until the Jedi are strong again.  You people diminish the force by your very existence.  Enjoy this little victory, it’s your last.” Bengel said.

“That’s-” Makas said, and the comm call shut off.  “A darksider plan.” He said to no one in particular.

He tried to send a comm signal to Master Orgus.  Too much rock.

Anda was walking back to the Jedi temple when she came across two masters arguing.

“I seem to be cursed, why do I always get the pupils who think they are the exceptions to the rule.” one said.

“Master Silvarte, it’s true that our padawans are acting a bit strangely, but I don’t think there’s cause for concern.”

Master Silvarte had an idea.  “Wait, I have an idea.  You, Padawan.”  Anda pulled up short.  She had been mostly mulling over what the computer had told her and wasn’t entirely paying attention to the present.  Master Kunal would have scolded her.

“I’m sorry, how can I help you?”  Anda said.

The other master spoke up.  “Master Silvarte is concerned about a couple of our padawans, he suspects they are, well…”

“If I am correct, they are following their passions down a dark path.”  Silvarte said.

“You think they’re going to the dark side?”  Anda asked.

“Emotions disrupt balance.  When you hold one person in higher regard than others it clouds clarity and twists reason.  We mustn’t stand by.”  Silvarte said.

No.  You’re kidding.  “Are you telling me that love is forbidden?”  Anda said.

“As I said, when you hold one person in higher regard than others it clouds clarity and twists reason.”

Anda’s self-control kept her from reacting, but internally she was floored.  They’ve banned love.  How do they function?

“In all other aspects, these two are model pupils, but I agree we would be remiss if we didn’t do what we can to settle the issue.” The other master said. 

“They may be more open and revealing with a student like you.” Silvarte resumed, “Go to the ruins in lower Kaleth and seek out Padawans Moricen and Spanios and find out what kind of relationship they have, then come back to us and report.  You are helping us root out the seeds of darkness, there is no task more important.”

Anda walked back to the outskirts of Kaleth and found a couple of reasonably attractive padawans talking with each other near the self-replicating battle droids.  “You found it, well done Moracen!” one was saying.

“Oh Spanios, I couldn’t have done it without you!”  Anda had felt both of them in the force and already sensed their connection, but Moracen’s body language hid nothing.

“You’re amazing, I don’t care what the masters say, we’re proving everyone wrong. Come here and give me a kiss.”  Spanios said.

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there.  Sit down.” Anda said, coming up to the two of them.

“Who are you?” demanded Moracen.

“Right now, a padawan like you are.  Specifically, a padawan who was tasked by your masters to come and find out your relationship together.” Anda said.

“This isn’t what you think it is.” said Spanios.

“You just asked Moracen to kiss you.  More precisely, you commanded Moracen to kiss you.  You’re in love.”

“Okay, maybe it is what you think it is.”

“Spanios!” Moracen said.

Spanios took Moracen in his arms.  “I’m sorry my love, but I’m sick of hiding.  The order is wrong.  Fear, not emotion is the adversary of the Jedi way.   Ironically, the masters fear emotion and they deny us its bounty.”

“You’re close to right,” Anda said, “but you’re missing some important points.  What the council is doing is wrong but defying them like this isn’t the way to go about it, particularly defying them like this.”

Anda slid into lecture mode.  “Emotion itself is not the enemy of the light side, but emotions of attachment, ownership and need are.  Love is great when it is enjoying each other’s company, supporting each other, and helping each other achieve heights neither could achieve alone.  This is, in many ways, the best example of what the Jedi do.  But this passionate clinging to each other in defiance of the council?  That is just asking for the council to separate you two and then when you fight them you discover your fear and anger, and that will lead to the dark side.”

“The power of our love is why we work so well together,” Moracen said, “The power of our teamwork helped us to find this rare lightsaber crystal, so our passion strengthens the order.”

Anda was not impressed.  “Your cooperation strengthens the order.  Your enthusiasm strengthens the order.  Your possessiveness does not.  Ugh, if this was the old days I’d set you a training exercise.  You know what, I’m going to do that anyway:  I am blackmailing you.  I won’t tell your masters what’s going on IF you do as I say.”  They both bristled and looked like they might have been about to attack her.  “Hear me out.  I can help you.”

Anda watched the force carefully, if they were going to attack her she needed to know it ahead of time.

“Fine.” Spanios said, “What do you have?”

“Go back and ask your masters for new assignments.  Ones that will keep you apart for the next several months.” They bristled again, “BUT, send each other holomessages once a day.  Focus on the positive.  Celebrate your own accomplishments and especially celebrate each other’s.  When you have difficulties, encourage each other and support the other resolving it on their own accord.  Do not offer advice and especially don’t help directly.  Just support and encourage.  You are practicing the good parts of love while being apart helps block the bad parts.  Also, you aren’t doing anything you can’t admit to the Jedi council.  In a few months when you get back together, we’ll see where we stand.  Is this a deal?”

They agreed to the deal.  Anda started back down the hill, but there was something new on her mind: I had a love once.  Twenty thousand years.  He’s been gone twenty thousand years.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Tremel said, looking up from his desk.  “Has Baras sent you back to me?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Mikkel said.  “He’s decided to claim me as a resource, and he has better opportunities so I’m jumping off team Tremel here.  He’s sent me back here with a test of loyalty and skill.  So, would you like to cut a deal, or do this the old-fashioned way?  I was sent to kill you but really only need your hand.”

“Then I have been outplayed.” Tremel said.  “Baras has the authority, but I did not think he would do something this overt.”

Mikkel decided to try to push for the deal.  “I take the hand back to Baras, you take the next jumpship out of here and go get a new one.  Start a darksider enclave on some farming world.  What do you think?”  Mikkel watched Tremel’s expression, hoping he would accept.

Tremel didn’t seem to hear her.  “Either I die or he forces me to kill you and destroy my own plan.  A master stroke.”

Mikkel tried one more time.  “Look, as much fun as darksider politics is, you don’t need to die for it.  Kill for it maybe, but not die for it.  Take the deal.”  Mikkel let the mask slip again, let her expression give a hint that she could defeat Tremel, handily.

Tremel stood firm.  “Very well, you have your orders, acolyte.  Let me know it gives me no pleasure to kill you.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Mikkel asked.

Tremel didn’t seem to be.  “You’re strong, acolyte.  As strong as any I’ve seen come through the academy, but you’re not Sith yet.  I’ll try to make your end quick and painless.  It’s the least I can do.”

“Great bird of the galaxy.” Mikkel said, throwing up her hands in frustration.  “Fine, be that way.”

Tremel was expecting a formalized Sith duel.  What he got was a lot shorter.  Mikkel put one hand out and reached through the force.  She grabbed Tremel’s lightsaber off his belt and flew it into her hand.  In one smooth motion she caught it, lit it, and threw it back. It slammed through Tremels body, exactly spearing his heart.  He fell backwards, noticing that the shock spreading over his body was an oddly pleasant sensation.

Mikkel came and knelt over him as he died.  “I’m amazed.” Tremel said.  “I knew you were strong in the force, but not…like this.  You’re more than ready to challenge Vemrin.  Baras won’t be able to deny that now.”

“I’m sorry.” Mikkel said.  “You were nice to me and I tried to spare you.  Here, take this.”

Tremel felt Mikkel reach into the force, felt it spread around him, and then felt nothing more.

“I shut down the energy shield, did you hear anything from Master Orgus about his mission?” Makas said, talking to Ranna back in the matriarch’s hut.

Ranna didn’t even look up.  “No.  My mother… She found peace during your absence.  I’m now matriarch.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry.” Makas said.

Ranna looked at Makas this time.  “You and your master are a great comfort to me.  Before he left, Master Orgus told me ‘there is no death, there is the force.’  He believes our essence lives on when we die and merges with the force.  I hope that’s true.”

Makas paused a second and felt through the force for Matriarch Suman’s presence.  She was there, seemingly not conscious, and slowly dissolving into the force itself, which was about average for someone of her age and personality.  He gave her a metaphorical comforting pat and turned his attention back to Ranna.

“I-” he started to say.  A messenger charged into the room.

“Matriarch!  Flesh raiders broke through our defenses, they did something to the crop fields.”  The messenger gasped.

“I’ll handle it.” Makas said and turned to go.

The flesh raiders had dropped poisonous dispenser things in the crop field and Makas was forced to reach through the force and throw the dispensers into a pile on the edge of the field.  He had held his breath as he stepped into the cloud and shut down all the dispensers, then stepped away to tell the farm foreman to wait for the cloud to die down before going and retrieving those things for the head guardsman.  Then he went back to the matriarch’s house.

Anda got back to the temple and, before going into master Yuon’s office found an empty meditation chamber.  She sat down, closed her eyes and went deep into her emotions.

Twenty thousand years.  Everything she knew was gone.   Her cities were rubble.  All her friends, her enemies, coworkers and opponents, gone.  The only thing she knew from that time was Makas Goroc, who was being as prickly as she expected him to be.

Her husband, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren were gone as well.

She felt a bubble of overwhelming grief come up from deep inside her.  Regret for the things she would not be able to fix, greed and mourning for not being able to enjoy the pleasures anymore, the hole in her soul where her family and her past used to be.  She let it wash over her, swam in it, became one with it.

And, as she let herself dissolve in the tidal wave of emotion reacting to a universe and family gone for twenty thousand years, she became the wave and the wave became her.  She found it wasn’t as powerful as it once was.  After a timeless time, it started to dissolve into a sea of acceptance.  The past wasn’t gone.  It was still there, in the past.  It reached its threads through the force and the physical world and still had an impact, even now.

Her loved ones, friends, and enemies were in the force.  Soon enough, as these things go, she would rejoin them.  In the meantime, she was here for a reason.

Anda reached out to the threads of destiny that bound the galaxy together.  She found a powerful dark thread that was creeping through and snarling up the fabric of the galaxy.  She found another powerful thread, dark and light at the same time.  It bumped the dark thread but it had twisted, kinked somehow.  It had snarled up destiny around it and pushed on other threads until the strain got too great and the force had pulled Anda Siv together from the gestalt unconsciousness, formed a body for her, and plunked her down in the physical world.

There was another thread, nearby, that had done the same thing.  Familiar but different.  Makas.

There was also a third thread, a little further apart.  Could it be?  Maybe.  Anda meditated on the vision she was having but couldn’t get it to resolve any further.  Eventually she got up and went to Yuon’s office.

Yuon’s office didn’t seem to contain Yuon.  It did, however, contain two men.  Anda recognized one of them.

“Hello again padawan, I’m glad you are well.  I’m master Syo Bakarn, I was there to greet you when you first arrived.” Syo Bakarn said.

“Of course, Master Bakarn, it’s good to see you are doing well.” Anda smiled at the Jedi master.

“Interesting,” the other man said.  “Protocol was never a part of Yuon’s curriculum.”

Syo gestured to the other man while speaking to Anda, “This is master Jaric Kaedan, another member of the Jedi council.  Yuon told us about Nalen Raloch, the pilgrim seeking Rajivari’s secrets.  She also claimed the force is guiding your training.  This isn’t unknown but…”

Anda briefly considered telling the two council members about what she had just learned in meditation and decided against it.  It would require a lot of proof and failing to convince them would restrict her freedom of movement.  Anda paused briefly to consider the irony: she’d been on the other side of these conversations far too often.

“Master Yuon did mention that she thinks that the threads of destiny are running through the force right now.” Anda said, “Whether that consists of the force guiding my training is for your good selves and master Yuon to decide.” Kaeden seems like a dogmatist, this should throw him a bone.  Syo seems more complicated, but I think he really wants to help.

“Yuon seems convinced.” Kaedan said, “But trusting blindly in the force isn’t the Jedi way.  Good judgement and discipline must temper that trust.  First she welcomes that Trandosian into the temple, now this?  She’s getting more unorthodox by the day!”

“What do you make of Yuon’s claim, padawan?” Bakarn asked.

Anda felt that trusting in the force was exactly the Jedi way, but in this case the force and her judgement agreed with each other.  “Nalen Raloch’s quest to unlock the secrets of Rajivari seems dangerous enough to warrant immediate attention, whatever the threads of the force might be saying.  I would like to stay on this project, and then if the council determines I need to go through more trials, I will gladly submit to them.”  She smiled with just the right edge of humility to it.

Syo replied, “The council has agreed to accept Yuon’s opinion, for now.  But I am concerned about the dangers this path is leading you through.  Finding the fount of Rajivari before Nalen does is important, but so is your safety, padawan.  Be mindful.”

I like him. Anda thought.  He is paying attention and being flexible but keeping his eye on his real goals.  This is a good master.  “Of course, Master Syo.  I will attend to my thoughts and feelings, and not let the dark side into my mind.”

Syo and Kaedan turned to leave just as Yuon came in with the lizardman, Qyzen Fess.  “Rajivari’s hologram proves that the technique once existed.” She was telling him.  “Don’t you see?  That will resolve that debate once and for all.”

“Yuon is soft thing.  Old, soft thing.  Do not overexcite for this.”  Qyzen said.  That was rude.

Yuon felt that Qyzen Fess was a good friend, but that was overstepping.  “Overexcite, I’m not quite ready to…Ah, Anda!  Much longer and we’d have come looking for you, I thought you might have crossed paths with Nalen Raloch again.”

“Sorry about that, Master Yuon.  I…learned some things in Kaleth that I wasn’t prepared for, I’m afraid my emotional control isn’t quite what I expected it to be.  I borrowed a meditation chamber to clear my emotions, I’m fine now.”

“Be careful about distractions, your task is too important.  You said you found the first blade, or the hilt, at least?” Yuon said.

Anda pulled the first blade out of her carry bag.  The three of them looked at it.  It was indeed covered in symbols and Anda thought it looked like writing, or maybe coordinates.  Yuon picked it up, studied it.  “The folds in the metal, the power cell chamber.  These are lost techniques.  Our lightsabers began here, with this.”  She contemplated it for a while.  Anda let her.  Qyzen Fess seemed to fidget impatiently.

“I deciphered a second clue from Rajivari’s hologram.” Yuon said, “to find the fount, this hilt must be taken to a cave in the Tythonian mountains. The hologram says the founders meditated in that cave.  Debated.  They became the Jedi council.”

“The cave I know.” Qyzen Fess said, “Is flesh raider cave now.  Good hunting.  I would accompany.  I go ahead, make a good beginning before search for old things.  Shall meet you, small hunter.”  He turned and left.

“I’m sorry, Padawan.  Qyzen’s devotion to the hunt is quite single minded.”  Yuon said.

Anda watched the Trandoshian leave.  “Evidently.  Why?”

“Hunting is part of Trandoshian religion and culture.  Honing his skills is important.”  Yuon said.

“He seems to be a gifted hunter already.  I hope he continues to grow his expertise.”  Anda replied.

Yuon smiled at Anda.  “Good luck and be careful.  The hologram said nothing of what might be waiting in those caves.”

Anda considered what was the best thing to say.  “We would be fools to trust it anyway.  I will be careful, master Yuon.”

“What’s this?” Baras said, “The acolyte returns with a weapon unbloodied.  Did you kill Tremel?  You had better not be wasting my time.”

Mikkel wordlessly took the hand out of her pocket and dropped it on the desk.

“I see.  Did you cut a deal with him?  His hand for his freedom?”

This is a trap.  You want me to say no, then when you catch me in the lie you have my guilt to hold over me, either about lying to you, or killing him.  “I tried, but he wouldn’t go for it.”  She looked Baras in the eye.  “He was nice to me.”  Let him think I’m weak.

Baras took a ring off Tremel’s hand.  “Take this ring as a momento.  Remembering the past can strengthen resolve and embolden the spirit. I am impressed you had the fortitude to destroy him, you know he thought of you as family, how did it feel to betray him?”

“I was not…happy about it.” Mikkel thought that the pause between not and happy was a nice touch.

“You have taken your first step to understanding the Sith code.  Peace is a lie, there is only passion, through passion, we gain strength.  Through strength, we gain power.  Through power, we gain victory.  Through victory, our chains are broken.  The force shall set us free.”

It took Mikkel a second to figure out what Baras just said.  “That is the code?  It sounds like propaganda we spew out when we’re recruiting drones.”

“By embracing the code and destroying Tremel, you have freed yourself from his shackles, and escaped his fate.” Baras said.

Mikkel was unimpressed.  “To get stuck in your shackles?  Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“You’ll find they are a marked improvement.  With much greater potential range.” That’s why both of us are still standing here.  “Now,” Baras continued, “there are sacred ruins in the tomb of Tulak Hord, the ancient inscriptions that once adorned the walls of each ruin lie in pieces.”

“I’m really wishing I’d paid more attention in archaeology class.”  Mikkel said.

Baras didn’t find it funny.  “You will venture through the entire tomb, search all of the ruins, and bring me a shard from each of the pieces.  You will do this or you will die.  Vemrin and my other acolytes have already been sent, there are no rules regarding how they secure the shards, and they will stop at nothing.”

“I saw how you suffered out there.  What you did was more than brave, it was heroic.”  Ranna said.

“I’m just able to hold my breath a long time.  I didn’t do anything any resident of the village wouldn’t have done.”  Makas replied, reporting back to the matriarch of the village after taking care of the poison devices in the crop field.

“My people don’t know how to thank you, please take this token of our village’s honor.”  She handed Makas some cash.  Makas considered arguing about it and decided it would only cause more trouble than it was worth.

“This isn’t necessary but thank you.” he said.

“I’ll go tell my people that the danger is over.” Ranna turned to leave.

Finally, Master Orgus called in.  “Finally put the flesh raider base out of commission.” He said, “how are things on your end?”

Makas rubbed his chin in thought.  “The flesh raiders dropped some sort of gas canisters on the crop fields.  That’s organized, long term thinking.  Maybe that’s what Bengel Morr commanded while you took out his comm system, but I don’t like it.  Also, Bengel Morr called me over the holocomm.  I tried to talk to him but got nowhere.  He did say he’s doing all this to eliminate the weak Jedi so he could lead the strong Jedi against the Sith.”

“Then he’s not Sith himself.  That’s a good sign.  Maybe I can talk to him.” Orgus said.

Makas nodded.  “I was wrong earlier.  I don’t think I can talk to him.  You’ll have to confront him at some point.”

“Glad you agree.  Also, at the flesh raider command base I found coordinates to a number of secret camps, too many to send only Jedi masters.  I want you to go to this base in upper kaleth.”

“Will do.”

“If you find Bengel Morr, retreat and contact me immediately.”

“I will do that as well.”

Qyzen Fess was waiting in the caves, surrounded by dead flesh raiders.  “Worth many Jagganath points.” He said, “score has increased much today.”

“What do you mean?” Anda asked. 

Qyzen explained.  “For us, hunt is life.  To make honorable kills, earn Jagganath points. All tallied by Scorekeeper.”

That sounds…engineered.  Anda thought. Did someone mold Trandoshian society to dedicate itself to Jagganath?  If so, who?  Why? How?

“Scorekeeper” Qyzen continued, “She sees all.  Greater score, more points-is greater standing in Scorekeepers eyes.  Greater glory.”

Anda nodded sagaciously.  “So that’s how you determine status.  You honorably hunt difficult targets, and your goddess, the Scorekeeper, records them.”

“Yes, not many Jedi understand.”

“They probably don’t try.” Anda said.  “It is a weakness of the Jedi, when you think you’ve found truth, you mostly don’t look to see if anyone else has a different one.”  Among the things these Jedi need to fix.

Qyzen continued: “Enough talk.  Have fount of Rajivari to find.  This carving, is any signs?”

Anda held up the hilt of the first sword and hoped it activated or something before she looked too silly.  When that didn’t happen she turned to Qyzen Fess. “I have no idea how.  Do you have any ideas?”

“Smell something…strange.  Bones, there.  All old.  And all in pile.  Is deliberate but not the flesh raider way.”

Anda turned and looked at the bone pile Qyzen indicated.  The lower bones were…old.  Very old.  And piled over a pedestal of some sort.  Anda gently moved the bones off the pedestal and found an indentation that was shaped like the first sword.  She placed the sword in the alcove and waited, hoping the sword wasn’t going to flash into nothingness from a bolt of energy.

Nothing happened, except a trio of Twi’leks coming up to them.  Anda and Qyzen turned to them.  “Thank you, Jedi.  The flesh raider stench was making us queasy” the leader said.  “Nalen said to wait for you, you’ve got something he needs, he has to find this fount of Rajivari to keep defending our village.”

“You would be better served by a live Jedi,” Anda said, wondering how far along Makas was in doing just that, “or your own security resources.  The fount of Rajivari will not help you.  BUT” she said, holding up a restraining hand as the Twi’leks started to shuffle into a combat stance, “I don’t want to fight you for this.  Let’s all watch what happens.”

“You promised the Jedi would help us but nothing’s changed.  So we need whatever first blade you got in Kaleth.”  The first Twi’Lek said.

Anda said, “It is right here, in its alcove.  I was just about to figure out how to activate it.  Would you like to stay and watch?”

The second Twi’Lek said, “You don’t get it!  We’re all, we’re scared.  Nalen hardly comes into the village now.  He barely eats or sleeps, and when you talk to him, his eyes are so strange.”

Anda nodded slowly.  “I can’t give Nalen what he wants, but I can help him.  Please, stand down and let me know where he is.”

The first Twi’Lek said, “Something terrible’s happening, isn’t it?  Keep your artifact, whatever it is.  Keep it away from Nalen.”

“Thank you.” Anda said.

“Jedi, please, don’t hurt him.  Whatever Nalen’s become, he did this for us.” the second Twi’Lek said.

Anda made a pacifying gesture.  “You could say he’s…sick.  But not too sick.  He can still be saved.  I will save him, and return your hero to the village, I promise.”

The Twi’leks turned and left.  Anda and Qyzen went back to poking at the pedestal in an attempt to get it to work.  Eventually a hologram popped up, then spoke: “Here, in this cave, we founders discussed our vision for the Jedi order and I, Rajivari, listened.  I listened as they carefully crippled our newborn order, as they argued for mediocrity, it shall not stand.”

He probably never knew he was falling to the dark side. Anda thought.

“I have made my plans, with my army made from Tython’s true dark sons, I will purge this council of fools while they chatter.”

Or, maybe he did.

“Only my apprentices and I will survive.  From Kaleth, we will mold the Jedi into what we deserve to be.  If the hilt of the first blade has been returned, we succeeded, and the future follows the path we left.  Follow, seeker, follow the path to the fount of Rajivari.  It is time.”  The holorecording replaced itself with a complex symbol.

“That is a strange map.” Qyzen said, “If there was path on it, I don’t see.”

“I don’t either,” Anda admitted, “Hopefully master Yuon knows something and can help us.”

Mikkel had finished the tomb of Tulak Hord and was making her way back to Baras’s office when she was accosted by Klemral the acolyte, who she had seen talking with Vemrin when she first met Baras.  He had expressed his concerns about going into the tomb, to Vemrin’s complete lack of sympathy.  “Stop!” Klemral said, “I made a mistake.  I tried to make it through the tomb but there were too many of those flying bat-like shyracks.  I figured I’d wait out here and ambush you when you and take your shards, but I see that’s just as futile.”

“Wrong.” Mikkel said, “it is significantly more futile.  I don’t see Vemrin, he must have got his shards and gone back?  Anyway, I don’t need to kill you.  If you’d like to fuck off somewhere you can and I’ll be on my way.”

“Where would I go?” Klemral asked.

“What do I care?” Mikkel said.  “Go back in the tomb and meet a nice shyrack, settle down, raise a family.  Hop on the next hyperspace ark and found a colony of telephone sanitizers.  Move to a city and sell donuts.”

“Vemrin is already in with Baras, if I don’t return with the shards Baras will have me killed.” Klemral said.

Mikkel sighed.  “These are your choices.  You can get killed by Baras, you can fuck off and leave the planet to make your own fortune, you can go into the tomb and make friends with the shyracks until you get your own shards, or you can challenge me and die right here.  Which do you want?”

“Or, I could take your shards.” Klemral said, drawing his weapon again.  He lasted a few seconds.

After finishing with Kelmral, Mikkel made her way back to Baras’s office.  Vemrin was addressing Baras about something or another but the older Sith dropped him like yesterday’s news when Mikkel walked in.  “The prodigal supplicant returns,” Baras said, “And with all the shards from the tomb of Tulak Hord.   Superb.”

“Can we please do something with living people?” Mikkel asked.

“It seems your hopes have been dashed, Vemrin.” Baras continued as if he hadn’t heard her. 

“Appearances can be deceptive.” Vemrin replied.

“The tension is thick between you two.” Baras said, “A great source of emotion to feed on.  I wonder what will happen when it boils over.  You both stand on the precipice of becoming Sith.  But only one of you will have the chance to claim a special lightsaber and serve as my apprentice.  I thought it would be you, Vemrin, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?! I’ve done everything you’ve asked.  Better than any of the others.  The honor should be mine.” Vemrin exploded.

“I’m sure I can make do with an ordinary lightsaber.” Mikkel said.

“Today, Vemrin is every bit your equal, but the force is stronger with you.” Baras said, “There is a power sleeping within you, it was a simple decision.  Now Vemrin, go wait in my antechamber for your instructions.  This instant.”  To Mikkel’s minor surprise, Vemrin turned and left.  Baras turned back to Mikkel and said, “Now, I hope you fathom how fortunate you are to be singled out.  If you become my apprentice, the galaxy will bend before you.”

“It was going to do that anyway.” Mikkel said, figuring some darksider bravado was appropriate here.

“The lightsaber you will seek is old and powerful.  It is housed in a forbidden cavern in the tomb of Naga Sadow, where few Sith have ever set foot. Almost no one knows how to find the secret entrance, but there is a Twi’lek in the holding pens who was caught breaking in there.”

“Then I guess it’s fortunate Vemrin just took off to ambush me instead of eavesdropping.” Mikkel said, gesturing at the antechamber.  “I’ll go pick her up.”

“Other acolytes who are trying to complete their trials are sent to the tomb, where academy laws are waived.  They will try to murder you.  This test will determine if you become Sith.”

Mikkel stared at Baras.  Someday we are going to have a long talk about who needs to be worthy to join with whom.

“Bolster yourself,” Baras continued, “To step in the tomb of Naga Sadow is to breathe in death itself.”

We’re also going to talk about when it is appropriate to be floridly poetic and when it is not.

The Jedi was some sort of fish person and he held his side as if gravely wounded.  The force flickered and swirled around him.  “Turn back, young padawan,” he said, “Leave this place, I am dying.”

Makas walked up to him, “let me see.”  He examined the other Jedi.

The wound wasn’t immediately fatal, but it was very, very bad.  Makas helped the other Jedi down to the floor of the cave they were in.

“Do you have an emergency ripcord or something?  Some way to signal for a medical pickup?”

“No.”

Makas thought and felt through the force.  Which way should the future go…

Makas suddenly stood up and ran for the entrance to the cave.  When he got there, he whipped out his own holocommunicator and set it on “emergency beacon” mode, then set it on the ground.  He spun around and ran back as the communicator started wordlessly screaming.

Inside the cave, a pair of flesh raiders had discovered the other Jedi and were starting their attack when Makas came in in a blur of speed.  They were in the act of raising their weapons when they suddenly felt a series of blows and flew back into the cave.  One of them was knocked unconscious immediately, the other after a few more hammer blows.

Makas was suddenly back at the side of the wounded Jedi.  “My name is Laotah.” The Jedi said, “surveillance monitors picked up flesh raiders entering the ruin.  Came to investigate.  Shouldn’t have come alone.”

“My name is Makas.” Makas said, then, using the force to help him, lifted the stricken Jedi and began to carry him to the cave entrance.  “And you didn’t come alone.  The force is here, and so am I.”

It was close, but the medical lifter made it in time. 

The flesh raiders inside the cave did see the thing that was attacking them but they didn’t see it well. It was something clothed in Jedi brown and moving impossibly fast.  It broke its way into their midst and started tossing flesh raiders around like cabbages.  Soon, they would awaken trussed up, bound and meeting the very Jedi they were supposed to attack as their captives, not as their assailants.

Anda walked into Master Yuon’s office in the Jedi temple and the master turned to her: “Padawan, I just received a disturbing message.  For you, from Nalen Raloch.” Yuon said.  She activated a holocomm.  Nalen Raloch’s image popped up and started to speak.

“Survival.  Mine, my village’s and yours, Jedi.  Interesting to think about.  You fooled my people.  It doesn’t matter, there’s other routes to the fount of Rajivari.  Interfere and I’ll kill you.”

Drat.

Yuon turned to look at Anda.  “Nalen has truly fallen then, and he wants you dead.  You must be vigilant.”

Anda rubbed her chin in thought.  “I will be extra careful, master Yuon.  But I don’t think he’s fully fallen yet.  I think I can save him.”

Yuon wasn’t so sure.  “He may not give you the chance, you cannot risk yourself.  We still have the fount of Rajivari to find, let me see those coordinates you have, perhaps I can get us started.”

They brought the map up on a large holotable, rotated it, made it bigger and smaller, Finally they were able to pin one location to Kaleth, and another to the caves they took the first hilt to.  That left one more coordinate, if that could be nailed down they could determine where the fount of Rajivari was.  Yuon thought it was a rock formation.  Qyzen mentioned seeing similar formations before and volunteered to scout the waterfall caves and see if he could find it.

After Qyzen left, Yuon found another message inside the map: the fount was defended.  Mechanisms were in place and only those who know Rajivari’s path would walk through unscathed. 

“Do we have records of Rajivari’s philosophies?” Anda asked.  “Outside of the fount of Rajivari?”

“We know Kaleth was Rajivari’s stronghold, and there are ancient computer terminals in upper Kaleth.  Those terminals might hold answers, if they weren’t all locked out with passwords.”

Anda had to think fast, she did not want to reveal that she had a login on the Kaleth computer system and have to explain why.  “Possibly the first hilt can help us get into those as well.”

Yuon accepted Anda’s idea.  “Of course, those engravings, some of them resemble security algorithms. Go to upper Kaleth and investigate those terminals for any clue.  I’ll wait here for Qyzen.  We’re close, Padawan, I know it!”

The terminals in Kaleth had only yielded up recordings of some of Rajivari’s disciples parroting lessons from their leader.  If they were good students, then Rajivari hadn’t had anything original to say.  Most of his lessons were things Anda had heard from Master Kunal back when she was a young padawan herself and Master Kunal was teaching about how the dark side worked and what its practitioners thought and felt.  Anda supposed that if Rajivari was figuring out the dark side all by himself she shouldn’t really be expecting a lot of rigor or sophistication from him, and by that standard he had done a creditable job of figuring out the first steps to the dark side.

She had learned something interesting: Evidently the flesh raiders were brought here by some other civilization on Tython when the Jedi first got here, or first returned.

She returned to master Yuon’s office.  “Master Yuon, I have found the clues we need.” She said.

“Oh? What did you find?”

“Mostly recordings from his students about his philosophy.  I think he left them deliberately.  They will hold answers to his traps.  The light side Jedi besieged Kaleth after Rajivari tried to kill the council, and Rajivari had his apprentices hold them off while he set up the fount, then he took their dying recordings and used that to set his traps.  It was kind of noble, and sad.  They knew they were going to lose but stuck by their beliefs to the last.”

Anda remembered: A time of truce and a dinner with dark side Master Jedi Kav Gonne.  It had been a delightful evening of philosophy, laughter, good tales and good companionship.  Anda had tried her best arguments, but he would not embrace the light side. Master Kav Gonne had stuck by his beliefs to the last too, although it wound up being the last plum cake.

What had happened to him?  Oh yes, he had died at the Deathbed, along with so many other dark side masters, trying to defend a stupid, greedy tradition.

“If they had had a different master, they could have been good Jedi.” Master Yuon said.  “Hopefully, with what you know you can get to the fount of Rajivari safely, once Qyzen brings us the last coordinate…. Wait, where is Qyzen?”

Anda felt into the force, did it know where Qyzen was?  It urged her…into the mountains.  She should go.

“I can go find him, and make sure he’s all right.” Anda said.

“He mentioned the waterfall caves, didn’t he?  There’s no time to waste, go, and may the force be with you both.” Yuon said.

“And also with you, Master Yuon.”

The Jailer was shocking the Twi’lek again.  “Ouch!” she said, “Give it a rest, will you?”

“Hello!” Mikkel said brightly, walking up.

“I hear you might become Darth Baras’s apprentice.” the jailer said, “Nice work if you can get it.  Also, that you’ll be relieving me of this Twi’lek.  She’s a pain in the neck.”

“Ha!” The Twi’lek said, “Who’s a pain in the neck, I’m the one wearing the shock collar.”

“I’ll take her now, thank you.” Mikkel said.  “Do I have to sign something?”

“Just take this and she’s all yours.” the jailer said, passing Mikkel the shock collar controller.  “Remember to use it if she becomes difficult.”

Mikkel used the force to unlock the cage.  “Please come with me.”

Once they got outside the academy, Mikkel took the Twi’lek aside and held up the shock controller.  “Watch this.” She said, then she used the force to crush it.  It shattered into its component pieces and dropped into the dust.

“Here’s the deal.” Mikkel said, “We’re going into the tomb of Naga Sadow, where you will help me get into the inner chamber and where there is a lightsaber of profound symbolic importance which I hope also works.  If you prove yourself to be trustworthy, once we get out of the tomb I will remove your shock collar and you can either choose to come with me or to go on your way and I’ll have a rogue Twi’lek who owes me a favor.  Is it a deal?”

“Deal!” The Twi’lek said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Vette.”

“I’m Mikkel.  Nice to meet you, Vette.”

“Nice to meet you.  Just so we’re clear, I’m officially on strike when it comes to domestic duties.”

“I just realized I don’t know how long it’s been since I did the dishes.”

“Well, I’m not doing them.”

“The flesh raider camp is out of commission, but they were all beginning force users.  They almost killed a Jedi named Laotah.  Medical flitter picked him up but it was close.”  Makas said over the holocomm to Orgus.  He was walking back to the Twi’lek village.

“Good thing you were there.  I just got a distress call from the Twi’lek village, they have spotted Bengel Morr!  I’m on my way to the settlement.  Get there first and stop Bengel from doing anything worse to the village, then wait for me.”

“Will do.”  Makas said, then he broke into a fast long-distance jog.

There was no sign of Bengel Morr at the village.  No panicked denizens jumping this way and that.  No exploding bits of scenery to really cement home the danger.  Makas walked into the matriarch’s house.

“Master Orgus responded to your distress call.  Did he make it here first?”  Makas said, addressing Ranna. 

“No, we didn’t-” Ranna said.

Makas interrupted her.  “Hold that thought.”

The Twi’leks thought they were sneaking, and a few even did a passable job.  But they were totally unprepared for their quarry to arc high across the room as they were sneaking through the entrance way and land in the middle of them.  They had sleepy dart guns, and regular guns, and sticks.  Makas hadn’t even bothered to draw his training stick, and efficiently took out the ambushing Twi’leks.  Soon they were bound with their own restraints and were sitting, lined up by the door.  Makas turned to Ranna, “What is this all about?”

Ranna looked panicked.  “Please!” she said.  “I had no choice, there are too many flesh raiders and not enough Jedi.”

“I understand.” Makas said, making a calming gesture, “you had to protect your people and we weren’t helping.  No harm done so far and if it stays that way I’m willing to completely forget this.  But I need to know, where is Master Orgus?”

Qyzen Fess was in a cage.  Anda had fought her way through the flesh raiders to get to him and had discovered him locked in a cage.  She used a key off one of the flesh raiders to open it.  “Small hunter.” Qyzen said, “Should not have come.  Is only shame here, and death.  Nalen Raloch.  He tricked and…captured.  Used pain.  Demanded answers of your old thing, the…fount of Rajivari.”

Anda considered carefully what to say next.  Qyzen had casually said “only shame here, and death” but she had felt the depths of his emotions.  He was powerfully ashamed.  His pride had always wrapped itself around him, usually like a brace to hold him up, but this time that same brace had become an anchor.  She wondered if she could use that pride as a cast while his wounded ego healed.

“Being captured was not good for your points score?” she said. This was by no means a safe question, but she had to start somewhere.

“No greater dishonor.  Means all my points forfeit.  Lifetime’s score, gone.  Without score, I am nothing.  Scorekeeper turns face away.”

“How did it happen?” she asked. 

“Yuon brought hope, risked all to join me, asked for coordinates of fount of Rajivari. She gave hope but…was strange.  Scent all wrong.  Perhaps because…was strangeness.”

“You were convinced there was a problem and then suddenly changed your mind?” Anda asked. 

“Exactly.  Was going to ask her about scent and then it was all okay.”

“Master Yuon hasn’t left the Jedi temple since you did.  I think that was Nalen using the force on your mind.”  Anda said.

Qyzen’s whole attitude shifted. “Trickery, not dishonor? Masking as Yuon?  I will track and punish for this!”

“Then let’s go to the fount of Rajivari.” Anda said.

The traps were illusions created from the force.  Each of them had some small speech, an attempt to tempt someone off the path of Rajivari.  Anda knew her force philosophy, though, and had no problem getting through them.

Eventually Qyzen and Anda made it to the inner sanctum.  Inside, a force ghost.  “Of course, here is the other.” it said. “Seekers of forbidden knowledge always have their pursuers.  If you have come for Nalen Raloch, he has been and gone.  So much is fleeting, but I remain, and remain the man I was.  I am Rajivari.”

“Hello, Rajivari.  My name is Anda Siv.”  Anda wondered if Rajivari would recognize it.

Qyzen asked “Who are you talking to, small hunter?  See nothing, smell nothing.  Unless this is Jedi seeing, not for me.”

“Your pet is smarter than it appears.” Rajivari replied, “When my body failed me, I refused to become one with the force.  How could I, the Jedi were still imperfect.  Here, in my laboratory, I had refined certain devices.  I could give one chosen apprentice decades of experience in one day.  An apprentice, to become worthy to carry on my vision.  I have waited for new acolytes. I believed Nalen Raloch was a suitable candidate.”

“He clung too tightly to his village.” Anda said.  “And he didn’t know how to use that to gain power.  He didn’t have the education to understand, he thought like a non-force-user.” 

Rajivari shook his head.  “He failed before that.  He walked through the traps instead of solving them and suffered greatly.  Now, Nalen is changed.”

Anda didn’t like the sound of that.  “He didn’t understand the Jedi idiom, so you turned him into a tool.  Can he be saved?”

“Possible, but doubtful.  I miscalculated.  Nalen’s mind wasn’t equal to the wisdom he demanded.  I have made…not a successor, but a monster.”

“Because you were expecting a trained Jedi, either of light side or dark side, who would understand what your teachings actually taught.” Anda said. 

Rajivari shrugged.  “Perhaps.  Nalen will not remake the Jedi.  He wishes to destroy them and everything else on this world.  He’s gone to the great forge, where lightsabers are made.”

“They have a special place for that?” Anda said.  In her time, Jedi had made lightsabers wherever was convenient.

Rajivari didn’t seem to understand what Anda was asking.  “Without the forge, the Jedi lose their martial power.  You must stop Nalen before he destroys it.”

Anda decided she didn’t care about a lightsaber forge, but she did care about Nalen Raloch.  “Hopefully I can save him.  And Rajivari?”

“Yes?”

“The Jedi are always going to be imperfect.  It’s in the nature of being Jedi.  In order for us to use the force we must move within it, we have to step away from balance. We have to choose, light side or dark side.  Once we do that a complete, perfect philosophy is impossible.  Your dark side has just as many flaws as my light side.”  Anda said.  She expected this to miss its mark, but maybe the sentiment would help someone else later.

Rajivari outright rejected what Anda said.  “My philosophies will perfect the Jedi.”

“No, they won’t.  Even if you do get a new disciple, and even if they succeed, all you will have accomplished is trading one set of flaws for another.  Think about it.”  Anda turned and left.

“Qyzen,” she said as she walked back through where the traps were.  “Would you do me a favor and not mention to master Yuon what we just talked about?”  Anda didn’t want to hint that she regularly made points that took entire symposia to fully understand to the modern Jedi just yet.

“Didn’t understand you anyway.”  Qyzen admitted.

“I’ll explain it later.  We’re going to have to hurry.  I’m worried that if Nalen Raloch makes it to the forge, the Jedi will kill him.”

“So why are we in tombs all the time, anyway?” Mikkel asked, slashing another Shyrack and then leaning on her warblade.

“This is Korriban.” Vette replied, as if that explained it.

“And?”

“What do you mean and?  Listen to me, a slave explaining Sith history to a Sith.”  Vette turned to Mikkel and explained patiently, as one does to a child.  “About thirty-five hundred years ago, the light side Jedi kicked out all the dark side Jedi and made them run to the edge of the galaxy.  There, they found a species, the Sith, those red-skinned people you see everywhere, and conquered them.  Only the Sith conquered the Jedi back because rather than call themselves ‘dark side Jedi’ like some clunky afterthought in a children’s story, they started calling themselves Sith and their nation was the Sith Empire.  They came back a thousand or so years later in the great hyperspace war.

“Meanwhile, the Sith - the red-skins, I mean - had converted their homeworld into a tomb world to house their honored dead when they moved out into the galaxy. When they took over, the Sith – the dark side Jedi this time – adopted the custom and buried all their important people here too.  Since this place is so important to both kinds of Sith, they decided to put an academy here where the Sith learn to become Sith.”

Mikkel digested this for a moment.  “That’s stupid.” She said.  “And vulnerable.  If I was in charge there would be Sith academies everywhere.”

They wandered into a large chamber.  Vette looked around.  “Hey, this is it!” she said.  “The secret entrance to the hidden cavern is in here.  Just let me get my bearings.”

Mikkel looked around the chamber, then suddenly turned and stuck out a hand.  Using the force she picked Vette up and floated her off to one of the corners of the room.  “Get your bearings from over there.” Mikkel said.

“Hey!”  Vette replied, flailing a bit while she flew through the air.  “What?  Oh- Look out!”

Vemrin had emerged from behind a statue along the wall and was sneaking up behind Mikkel as she faced Vette and set her down using the force.  He had pulled out his warblade and had just moved into striking distance when Mikkel suddenly, and without turning to look, back-kicked him in the face.  She whipped out her own weapon and crashed it against his a couple of times before another mighty kick sent Vemrin sprawling.

Vemrin picked himself up the ground. “Take your time, slave.” he said.  Mikkel at first thought he was addressing her until he finished his thought.  “Just have the entrance uncovered by the time I finish killing your new master.”

“That’s going to be a long time.” Mikkel said, “I hadn’t intended to wait until forever.”

“My passions run deeper than yours.  I am the true essence of what it is to be Sith.” Vemrin said.

“If by that you mean stupid and short sighted, you’re right.” Mikkel replied. 

“My legacy has suffered long enough.” Vemrin continued.  “After today you will be forgotten.  It ends here and now.”

They presented their weapons and fought blade to blade for a while, Vemrin launching a series of forceful attacks and Mikkel intensely blocking them, then throwing a few counterattacks and forcing Vemrin to back up.  Eventually, Mikkel started to speak amongst the crashing blows.

“Listen,” she said, “I turned you into a lump about ninety seconds ago.  If this keeps up I’m going to lose patience and turn you into some abstract art and a gooey mess.  But it doesn’t have to be this way.  Forget Baras.  Take off.  Find somewhere out of the way to settle down.  You’re right about one thing, you DO have all the skills it takes to be darksi- Sith.  So go do it and forget about all of us.”

“I will not let you defeat me!” Vemrin shouted.

“You’re not letting me do anything.” Mikkel said, calmly.  “You have a limited choice in the matter.  You know you’re outmatched.  The smart darksider recognizes this and finds some other way to win. I’m offering you that chance.  Go find it.”

Vemrin snarled “No.”

Mikkel shrugged.  “Okay,” she said, and then suddenly she swung a hard, vicious sideswipe that sent Vemrin flying across the room and crashing into a statue.  He collapsed to the floor, gasping and sobbing.

Vemrin eventually regained his composure and pulled himself up onto his arms.  “Becoming Baras’s apprentice was my destiny.  Did I come this far and overcome such adversity, only to be proven unworthy?”

“Looks like you did.” Said Mikkel, striding over to where Vemrin was trying to stand up.  Another slash of her weapon, and it was all over.

“Wow.” Vette said, not quite looking.  “Nice work.”

Mikkel shrugged.

“The secret entrance is right here.” Vette continued, walking towards what looked like a fairly obvious door between two statues.  She felt around on the rock for a while, pressed it in some specific points, and the giant statues turned sideways, then spread apart.  The wall came with it, sliding to each side like a door.

“I really should have paid attention in archaeology class.” Mikkel said.

“You’re welcome.” Said Vette.

“Stay here.” Said Mikkel.  She crossed the new chamber, walked up to a dais on the other end, and there used the force to knock the lid off a sarcophagus.  The dead person inside wasn’t anyone Mikkel recognized, so she reached in and picked up the lightsaber laying at his side.  She lifted it up, held it aloft, and then ignited it.

It worked.  A bright red spear of light came from the end, like glowing blood.

Something else that worked was the force lightning that shot out of the sarcophagus and started inhabiting the statues along the walls of the room.  Mikkel didn’t wait.  She charged down the stairs and neatly bisected the first statue as it animated and started to turn towards her.  She dodged the attack of the second statue, blocked another attack, and neatly bisected this one too.  Then she was off.

Vette stood and watched and suddenly realized she understood the difference between what Mikkel was doing now and her fight with Vemrin.  With Vemrin, she had been more passive, yet controlling.  She had guided the fight to go the way she wanted it to.  This fight was more about pure violence.  The statues came at Mikkel in a large mass, and she weaved and ducked around their attacks until she got to one side, then counterattacked and bits of statue went flying.  She kept knocking out statues and eventually force crushed the last one and stood there, panting.

Mikkel raised up her head and called, seemingly to the chamber itself: “Do you have anything else, you petulant old geezer!” 

Nothing happened.

Mikkel skipped up to Vette, turning the lightsaber off and putting it away.  “That was fun!” she said.  “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“I suppose it’s nice to be acknowledged for once.”  Vette said.  “You enjoyed that?”

Bengel Morr and two flesh raiders were standing over the prone form of Orgus Din when Makas and T7 arrived.  They were in a small clearing at the foot of a temple-like structure several miles and a few tunnels from the Jedi temple on Tython.  It was evidently the lightsaber forge, the place Jedi in this time went to construct their weapons.  Makas had thought that was odd, weapon construction in his time had been done wherever was convenient, but evidently Jedi of this time attached a more mystical significance to the act.

Makas felt out in the force and found that Orgus was alive, but unconscious.  He wondered if the Twi’lek tranquilizers had got him, or if it had been Bengel Morr.

“I sensed you coming, your fear betrayed you.” Bengel Morr said, staring down at the crumpled form of Orgus Din, back to Makas.

“No, it didn’t.” Makas replied.  “You may have sensed me -- I wasn’t hiding -- but I’m not afraid of you, Bengel.”

Bengel didn’t bother to turn around.  “You’re weak, like my old master.  You will fall.   With him.”

Makas pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I can tell you’re not a darksider, but you’re seeing what you want to see.  That’s not the light side way.  You’re losing your anchor to what you truly want.  Please.  Let me take Orgus Din to safety.  Come with us, talk to the masters.  Get your true self back.”

Bengel continued to speak with his back to Makas, staring down at his former master.  “No, the will of the force guided me here for justice.  To restore what the Jedi lost.  You weren’t on Coruscant, you never saw our greatest cut down, or watched the temple burn.  I escaped that destruction to see my own master surrender to the Sith.  They exterminated us, and he gave up.”

Makas continued to try to beg his way out of the coming fight.  “That’s true, I didn’t see coruscant, but I’ve seen plenty of fights between light side and dark side, and I’ve seen everything the Jedi depend on cut down in a single stroke.  What you’re trying is not the way to restore the Jedi.  It’s the way to ensure they fall to the dark side.  Please.  I need you to stop this.”

Bengel took out his lightsaber and lit it.  “The Jedi order must be born from ashes.”

Makas reached into the force, picked up the flesh raider on the left, and flung it at Bengel.  Then he reached in again and used the force to speed up.

Bengel was fast and mostly got out of the way of the flying flesh raider, he staggered a bit and recovered his balance.  Meanwhile, Makas had closed the distance and suddenly stood body to body with the other Jedi, then punched Bengel from about three inches distance in the pressure points in Bengel’s upper body, twice.  He dropped and sweep-kicked Bengel off his feet, then turned to the right hand flesh raider and used the force to pick up a rock and hurl it with some speed at the flesh raider’s head.  It bounced off but the flesh raider just stood as if stunned

Bengel Morr started to get up.  Makas kicked him in the back of the lightsaber hand and the fingers flew open, dropping the lightsaber.  Makas deftly caught it, turned it off, and tossed it across the field.  Then he reached into the force, picked up the charging left hand flesh raider and flipped it over his head.  It landed on its back, gasping.  Makas stood between this flesh raider and the other one, then looked at the right hand flesh raider and made a “come here” gesture.  The flesh raider charged Makas and was caught, flipped over, and brought down on the left hand flesh raider, who was just starting to get up.  Both gasped and fell to the ground, struggling for air.

Bengel Morr tried to right himself again and Makas kicked him twice in the ribs, spun kicked his legs out from under him (again) and slammed a fist into Bengel’s solar plexus.  Bengel lay on the grass and blinked up at the sky, wondering when body would start working again.

The flesh raiders recovered, but when they saw Makas walking towards them, ran away.  Makas turned back to see Bengel Morr just regaining his kneeling position.

“You’ve won.” Bengel said, bowing his head in surrender.  “Why has the force guided me to this defeat?  You’re stronger than any Jedi I’ve known.  You could redeem the order and destroy the Sith.”

Makas spent a second or two marveling at all living beings’ capacity for stubborn refusal to learn and said, “I keep trying to tell you, that is a dark side plan.  If we do destroy the Sith, it will be by uniting with our friends to defend the Republic, not crusading against our enemies in a mix of fear and anger.”

Bengel looked as if he understood.  “I understand.  You are the weapon I came to forge.”

Makas rolled his eyes.  “No.  You are the weapon I came to redeem.  You’re sick.  You need help.  We’ll take you to the masters, who are at least good at that.”

Bengel insisted, “Don’t deny the truth, think.  How else could you have beaten me.  I have spent a lifetime learning the paths to power.  That knowledge is now yours.  Let me leave Tython and prepare the galaxy for your ascendance.  I will deliver the gifts you need to claim your destiny.”

In the before time, Makas Goroc had spent more time than Bengel Morr and Orgus Din combined perfecting the art of fighting as and against force users.  Bengel Morr just didn’t have anything Makas wanted.  “I’ll find my destiny without your help, thank you.  I’m sorry about this.”  Makas reached out in the force, and Bengel Morr sagged and collapsed into unconsciousness.  Makas turned to Orgus Din and reflected that years spent studying combat first aid were not super useful when dealing with someone who may or may not have been drugged unconscious.

To Makas’s surprise, just then Orgus Din stirred and finally awoke. He looked around and stared at Makas.  “Padawan.  I must have you to thank for being alive.”  He said.

“I uh…captured Bengel Morr.” Makas said, pointing at the sleeping form of the other Jedi.

Orgus stood up and came over to look at the recumbent Jedi.  “You’ve done a great thing.  He deserves a second chance.  The horrors he witnessed on coruscant broke him, destroyed the gentle padawan I trained.  You, however, faced a trial beyond any challenge I could assign.  There’s nothing more I could teach you.”

He’s wrong, the force said, there are still a couple of things.  Makas wondered what they might possibly be.

Orgus continued.  “All that’s left is for you to enter the forge and construct your own lightsaber.” 

Makas reached into his pockets and discovered then brought out a deep turquoise crystal.  He held it up to the light.  Is this the same one? he asked himself.  Is this my lightsaber crystal from before?

Makas turned, beckoned to T7 and climbed the stairs to the forge.

Makas remembered how to build a lightsaber.  The parts were all there.  He ran a gentle hand over them, feeling their texture, noting their balance.  Finally he stood, closed his eyes, and emptied his mind.

Once, long ago, Makas had met a cult of masters of metal blades.  They were duelists of no small amount of skill and a powerful if very local renown.  An apprentice of these blademasters would spend a decade or two learning sword work and, when it was time to graduate, he would mine some ore and forge his own sword.  Makas watched a training session once where a master was teaching some advanced students how to do that, and never forgot what the master said: “As you are beating, focus on everything you must do with that blade.  Who it will defend, who it will impress, who it will kill.  Turn it into a purpose, and then beat that purpose into the blade with your hammer.”

Makas never forgot that lesson, especially because it was exactly what must not be done when forging a lightsaber.  Instead, Makas cleared his mind of expectations, then sat down and began to put together the lightsaber, sliding each component into the next until it was complete.  The lightsaber crystal he had found in his clothes fit perfectly.

And finally he turned it on.

It was the same turquoise color he remembered.  Halfway between blue and green and containing elements of both.  A color of life, of being in the world, being a part of it, making a difference, but also of being in the threads of destiny.  Makas realized he’d missed having a lightsaber.  A discomfort he didn’t know he’d had slipped away, replaced with another assurance.  He could handle whatever this strange galaxy threw at him, find out why he was here, and deal with it.

He turned the lightsaber off, turned to T7.  “Well, my new friend, shall we go to our next adventure?”

“T7 + Jedi = great team!”

“We do at that.”

Somehow, Anda and Qyzen beat Nalen to the forge.  They found Makas leaving just as she arrived.

“You have a lightsaber,” she said, observing the weapon on his belt.

“They make lightsabers up there.” Makas gestured to the building across the clearing.  “Lots of parts.  Why they have a special place for it, I don’t know.”

“I thought that was odd.  Have you solved the problem of the attacks on the village?”

“I have.  A padawan was lost when the darksiders attacked a Jedi temple on Coruscant, about ten years ago.  He spent all that time training and planning to wipe out the ‘weakness’ in the light side and replace it with true warriors who can defeat the darksiders.  They’re called ‘Sith’ here, for some reason.  Darksiders, I mean.”

Anda frowned.  That plan the padawan had was a dark side plan.  “Did the padawan fall?”

“No, actually.  Force knows stronger people have fallen for less.  The padawan’s old master is here and is taking him back to the temple to be healed and rehabilitated.  He seems to think it will work.  How about you, you’re…expecting someone?”

“Yes.  A native Twi’lek with force talents.  He found a dark side hologram and found the maker’s force ghost, who was teaching him.”

Makas looked down at Anda, then up at Qyzen. “Do you want help?” he said.  The small robot thing next to him beeped in agreement.  The offer sounded genuine and generous.  Maybe it was a step on the way to fixing things between them.

Anda didn’t think she’d need help but wanted to take Makas up on it, forge that much more of a bond.  The two of them would need each other to deal with this new and strange galaxy.  Unfortunately, Anda was pretty sure that having another Jedi here would provoke Nalen into something rash and violent.  Nalen wasn’t a threat to Anda, but if he tipped over the edge she would never convert him to the light side.  “Thank you, we can handle it.  You have things to do at the temple, go on ahead.  I’ll catch up with you when I get back and we can compare notes.”  She turned and walked into the clearing in front of the forge.

 It was a quiet location, a small empty clearing leading up to a short tower with an alcove at the top of some stairs.  Inside the alcove lightsaber parts were neatly arranged, Anda felt the area in the force and the weight of the tradition of what had gone on here impressed itself upon her. 

The force doesn’t actually talk, but one does occasionally get messages of intent.  This one told Anda to use it.  Take the next step.

That sounded an awful lot like a wish fulfillment to Anda, so she paused, and blanked her mind of everything but the desire to “do the right thing” and listened again.

Use it. Take the next step.

“Qyzen, this is going to require a lot of concentration.  Would you please look out for me?”

“Will do so.  Make your weapon, you have earned.”

Anda reached into her pocket and pulled out a lightsaber crystal she had somehow known was there.    She looked down at the lightsaber forge and went to work.

When she had finished, Anda held her lightsaber out and lit it. It was her old color: pure white.  The color of the light side.  Of filling yourself with the desire to do good, help others, and to embrace peace.  Anda let herself marvel at it, briefly.  She had lit her lightsaber so seldom, particularly towards the end of her life when she would only use it for practice and training.

Anda sensed the others coming and put it away.  She and Qyzen walked down the stairs to the waiting Nalen Raloch.

“Fitting that it’s you, armed with the last lightsaber the forge will ever make.”  Nalen turned to his companions.  “Look at her!  Another Jedi to nod, and preach, and do nothing while the flesh raiders ravage our home!  I know Rajivari’s secrets.  Horrors that the Jedi have been chasing, and only I can protect us, our families, and our future!”

“What do the others think?” Anda said, looking at the companions.

The others weren’t fond of it.  Anda and another Jedi had indeed done things for the village while Nalen was away, and they mentioned it now.  Helping the old man, or the woman, or holding off the flesh raiders, or getting rid of the poison gas canisters in the fields.

“You don’t understand, I’m going to show you!”  Nalen turned, drew his fighting stick, and moved up.

Anda struck.

She didn’t even bother to take out her lightsaber.  She reached out in the force and grasped hold of Nalen’s mind.  He froze in his tracks as Anda metaphorically looked him over, then contacted him, mind to mind.

“You don’t have to do this.” Anda thought at him, “See?” she sent a force-impression of the people Makas told her about: two beings, one a Jedi, walking, carrying the other -- also a Jedi but less powerful. They were walking through the mountains back towards the Jedi temple.  “That one” she indicated the less powerful Jedi.  “That is the being that was behind the flesh raider attacks.  It’s been solved.  You didn’t even have to leave your house.  If you attack the Jedi now, they will just kill you, and maybe wipe out the village.” She shared another image, this time an impression of a future where a swarm of Jedi leaving the temple and headed for the Twi’lek village, then the carnage when they got there.  “This is what happens if you attack the Jedi.  You are too new and undertrained.  Rajivari’s teachings are not enough, and you don’t even know what they are.” She fished around in Nalen’s memories and saw him paying the price for just bulling through the challenges, then she showed herself and Qyzen fess going through the traps outside the fount and answering the challenges correctly.  “You don’t understand what this is all about.  Give up now.  Release Rajivari’s teachings and listen to some others.  Better ones.”

Nalen, overwhelmed by the power that had suddenly appeared in his mind, dropped his weapon and knelt.  “I yield.” He said.

One of the companions asked if Anda was going to kill Nalen.

Before Qyzen could answer, Anda spoke up. “We are going to get him the help he needs, and then return him to your village.  You deserve a powerful protector, and Nalen deserves the chance to fulfill that role.” 

“We can carry him to the temple, master Jedi.” One of the Twi’leks said. “He still belongs to us.”

Never turn down earnest help, Kunal Lin had said, all those years ago.  “Thank you,” said Anda.

Qyzen came up next to her as the Twi’leks carried Nalen off.  “I have been fool.  Spoke false.” He said.

“What about?” Asked Anda.

Qyzen looked reverent.  “You are not small hunter.  Cannot be other.  Scorekeeper has seen.  Chosen for greatest honor.  You are Herald of Scorekeeper.”

Anda looked shocked, then stepped forward in front of Qyzen and turned to face him.  She looked Qyzen dead in the eye.

“Qyzen.” She said, “There’s a very real chance that I do have a destiny.  An important one, maybe even a galactic one.  But I’ve never heard of this Scorekeeper before today and my destiny probably doesn’t have anything to do with her.  You are the one who the eyes of scorekeeper is upon, and when she provided you with the worst test you’ve ever faced, you rose to meet it.  If someone here needs to be the herald of scorekeeper, it’s probably you.”

Qyzen Fess was adamant.  “No.  You.  Chosen one.  Herald of great skill, power, honor.  Scorekeeper sees and favors.  To lose points was horror.  But scorekeeper has led through darkness to greater thing.  You.”

Anda felt Qyzen in the force.  His fate thread was woven with hers, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a choice.  “You really want to travel with me?  I don’t do much hunting.  Sometimes I do nothing but talk, other times I have to fight horrors that are trying to eat whole planets.  You’re not likely to get much score, and might get killed or worse, captured.”

“Scorekeeper has shown path, to serve her herald.” Qyzen said.

“Then I’m honored to have you beside me.  Let’s go back to the temple.”

At the entrance to the academy, Mikkel and Vette were accosted by Tremel’s daughter, Eskellia.   She planted herself across Mikkel’s path and snarled.  “My father was a staunch traditionalist, and I suffered more than anyone else.  But he’s my blood.  Do you think you could kill him and get away from it?”

Mikkel sighed.  “Listen.  I tried to convince him to live.  But he was too stuck in the protocol of the Sith and the politics of the academy to see what is truly important.  The entire point to being a darksider is to break the rules.  It’s about being selfish and pointing out that there aren’t any rules, really, and then when you defeat the king’s champion you can steal the prince and ride off on him.”  Mikkel reached out a hand and clasped Eskellia on the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about your father.  He would not listen to me.  Please don’t make the same mistake he did.”  Eskellia lifted her face up to look Mikkel in the eye.  “Please, go back to your studies.  Learn more about how the dark side works and when the time is ripe, you can come hunting with me.  Don’t waste a promising Sith on a revenge she’s not going to live long enough to get.”

Eskeallia looked up at Mikkel and thought hard.  Eventually, she stepped back.  “You won’t take me hunting.” She said, “You’ll be the prey.”

Mikkel grinned.  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.  Well, hardly anything.  I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Why did you do that?” Vette whispered as they walked away.  “You could have just killed her.”

“Or she could learn what the rest of the dark side teachings are like and change her mind.  I try to avoid killing potential allies.  Finally, someone took the deal.”

“I am beside myself.” Baras intoned.  “Not only did you get the Twi’lek to cooperate, but you completed your task and brought the ancient lightsaber!”

Mikkel tossed it on Baras’s table.  “Honestly, I’d rather make my own.  Do you know where I can get parts?”

“Vemrin was not in his chamber as I ordered.  I take it he thought to stop you and claim the ancient weapon as his own.”

“He has now met his true destiny as a gooey mess on the floor of a forgotten tomb.” Mikkel said.

“Bravo.  I see you may indeed become one of the strongest Sith in the galaxy.  Your trials are over.  You are now my apprentice.”

“Fantastic.”  Mikkel hit exactly that tone where one couldn’t tell if it was sincere or sarcasm.  It was a kind of attitude test she used from time to time.  If someone interpreted it as sincere, it meant they were a sincere person.  If they interpreted it as sarcasm, it meant they dealt with lies and falsehoods a lot.

Baras didn’t react at all, which could mean that he knew what Mikkel was doing and didn’t want to play, or that he hadn’t noticed.  “This is only the beginning.  With you as my right hand we will strike fear into the emperor’s enemies.  I must convene with the emperor and inform him of your progress.  This shuttle pass will take you to Dromond Kaas, meet me at the citadel there.”

Presumably Dromund Kaas was a place.  Mikkel turned and left the office, it was time to collect Vette and fulfill her promise.

Makas walked into the council chamber in the Jedi temple.  “The flesh raiders are still a threat,” Orgus Din said, “But without Bengel’s leadership they’ll be scattered and ill equipped.”

Satele turned to Makas.  “This temple could have been devastated.  The entire order is in your debt.” she said.  Makas doubted it was true but appreciated the compliment.  “We now have concerns beyond the flesh raiders.  Recent developments in the Twi’lek settlement demand a response.”

“Their matriarch betrayed me to Bengel but surrendered herself to us for judgement.  Your doing, I understand, Makas.  Good work.”  Orgus Din said.

“You know the Twi’leks, padawan.” Satele said, “How do you recommend we proceed?”

Makas replied without hesitating: “We created instability by refusing to help them.  That has to change.”  These people should have always been our friends. Makas thought, Anda would have never missed that.  I’m surprised you did.

“What happened to Master Orgus was almost unforgivable.” Satele said.

What happened to Master Orgus wouldn’t have happened if the Twi’leks hadn’t learned to be angry and fearful of the Jedi.  For goodness’ sake, they are right next door.  We should have been good neighbors from the beginning.

“But if we do forgive, and work with them, it can only improve both our communities.” Orgus said.  “This young Jedi captured a fallen member of our order and saved this temple from destruction.  I see no reason why he should remain a padawan.”

“Your bravery, heroism and sacrifice show great depth of character.” Satele said, “You represent our best hopes for the future.  You arrived on Tython a padawan, but you leave a knight of the republic.  May the force be with you.”

Makas bowed and said, “I promise to uphold every standard of the Jedi and of the best traditions of the Galactic Republic.”

“T7 = requests permanent assignment to assist Jedi Goroc // T7 + Jedi Goroc = unstoppable.”

“There is no one I would rather have helping me.” Makas told the droid.

“Then I see no reason why you shouldn’t stay together.” Satele said.

Orgus interrupted: “We’re getting a priority signal from Coruscant, it’s master Kiiwiks.”

Kiiwiks appeared on the holocommunicator and said “I’ve discovered a situation requiring further assistance.  Our supsicions about coruscant were correct.  The dark presence we’ve so long sensed is strongest here.”

Satele spoke up.  “This situation calls for our very best.  Master Orgus, you and your former pupil should join Master Kiiwiks on Coruscant.”

“Come to the Senate tower as soon as you can.  Master Kiiwiks out.”

“No rest for us, my friend.” Orgus said.  “Complete any unfinished business you have and take a shuttle to coruscant.”

“Can I continue to borrow your stuff?”

Anda found herself walking into the council chambers in the Jedi temple.  Yuon and Syo were there, along with Master Kaedan and another Jedi Anda didn’t recognize, but she looked sleek and dangerous, and stood out in the force even amongst these people.

“We’ve been waiting for you padawan,” Syo said.  “You’ve already met master Kaaden, this is Master Satele Shan, grandmaster of the order.”

“I will be treating Nalen Raloch.” Master Satele said, “The pilgrims who carried him here told us of your battle, or rather lack of battle.  Remarkable.”

“I’m happy I was able to convince him to stop without injuring him.”

“Peace is the ideal, Padawan, but there’s no shame in defending yourself.”

“It seems we have much to learn about the villagers.” Master Kaedan mused, “Perhaps we should rethink our position.”

“Enough side issues,” said Master Yuon, “Padawan, the fount of Rajivari.  You actually set foot there?  Please, tell me everything!”

Anda told Yuon about the fount.  The approach, the traps.  The force ghost of Rajivari himself, and how he had been working on devices to implant someone with a wealth of dark side knowledge, and how he was working to cleanse the Jedi.

After Anda was done, Kaedan spoke again.  “Seems you may have been right Yuon, I apologize to you and your padawan.”

“No longer a padawan,” said Satele.  “She carries a lightsaber and she has proven herself.  I only have one last question.  At the moment, Nalen Raloch is resting in a kolto tank.  When he’s well, what should become of him?”

Anda let the mask drop briefly and looked Satele square in the eyes.  “I meant what I said at the forge.  The village deserves a protector, and he deserves the chance to be that protector.  You should teach him enough to know the dark side from the light side, and how to stick to the light side.  If he wants to become a full Jedi, train him.  If not, let him go back to his village and have Jedi on hand to support him while he defends it.”

If Satele was taken aback by a mere padawan’s directness, she didn’t show it.  “A sound idea.”

“We judge you ready to accept your place as a Jedi.” Syo said, “Yuon, if you would?”

Yuon stepped down to the front of the council chamber and faced Anda.  “Before this council I take from you the title of Padawan.  I name you a full Jedi of our order.  Honor the past, work for the future.”

Anda had said similar words to countless young Jedi just starting out on their careers. It was always a profound moment, no less so when the words were said to her.

“May the force be always with you,” Yuon continued, “you’ve done so well my student, I’m…”  Yuon faltered.  Anda saw it coming and moved in time to catch Yuon before she fell.  She laid the master down on the tiled floor, then looked up at the other masters, who had rushed to their side.

“Did we know she was very sick?” Anda asked.  She sensed Yuon in the force, it was disrupted around her, but not in the pattern that indicated an ordinary illness or disease.  The disruption was more organized.  Stronger in some areas, nonexistent in others.

“Come away,” Syo said to Anda, then, kneeling down next to the stricken master, “Yuon, can you hear me?”

Anda waited in Yuon’s office.  She had asked after Makas but he had left Tython already on some urgent mission.  Eventually, Syo Bakarn came up. “Yuon is resting comfortably for now, it seems she’s suffering some kind of illness.”

“I don’t think it’s natural.” Anda said, “I think it’s force-potentiated.”

“Yuon thought sickness would take her.” Qyzen said.

“You knew Yuon was ill and didn’t inform us?” Syo asked.

“Was not for me to tell secrets. Was her wish to train one last hunter.  I understood.” Qyzen replied.

“What are we going to do?” Anda asked.

Syo said, “Yuon is being sent to courscuant.  Our researchers there have been uncovering artifacts from the first Jedi temple.  They may have something to cure Yuon.  Take a shuttle and join Yuon on coruscant.  She may need your help.”

“I will go immediately and do everything to save her.” Anda said.

“Where herald goes, I go.  Is scorekeepers wish.” Qyzen said.

“And he’s coming with me.”  Anda said.