"As you are reading these words, you are taking part in one of the wonders of the natural world. For you and I belong to a species with a remarkable ability: we can shape events in each other's brains with exquisite precision. I am not referring to telepathy or mind control or the other obsessions of fringe science; even in the depictions of believers these are blunt instruments compared to an ability that is uncontroversially present in every one of us. That ability is language. Simply by making noises with our mouths, we can reliably cause precise new combinations of ideas to arise in each other's minds. The ability comes so naturally that we are apt to forget what a miracle it is."

("The Language Instinct: The New Science of Language and Mind," 1994)

"Choice of attention is to the inner life what choice of action is to the outer. In both cases, a person is responsible for their choice and must accept the consequences, whatever they may be."

(W. H. Auden)

Nar Shaddaa - One Month After The Battle Of Yavin

The sound of the rain almost had a presence of its own, Skar thought, as he walked across the old duracrete bridge. The rain poured down around him, running down the folds of his poncho, creating little rivets in the small puddles by his feet with every step he took. Feeling the rain run over his face as it washed off his hood, Skar looked over his shoulder slowly, cautiously, and saw the two dark figures still trailing him. They were a good two-hundred feet behind him, a fact that didn't make Skar any less anxious. And more than just seeing them with his eyes, he could feel them in his mind, he could almost read their minds but he was afraid of what he'd see if he did. The picture of himself lying broken and bleeding in any of Nar Shaddaa's alleyways brought a lump to his throat.

He began to pick up his pace, though not shifting into a run just yet. It would let them know he knew they were there too soon, and he needed more time to think. He searched every corner of the bridge for some place to hide, but the only road available just led him on down the bridge, where the would-be muggers would eventually catch up to him. He would have to get off the bridge before they reached him, in the streets he could easily hide, but on the bridge there were only limited choices. He took a second look at his muggers, trying to make it look as casual as possible.

His worst fear was confirmed; both of them were armed, a mean-looking blaster holstered to the thigh on both of them.

The metallic cylinder, that bounced off his thigh as he walked, was his only comfort. And in the hands of someone properly trained it might even have been enough. He hesitated at the thought of using it. If he struck now, it would have been the first time he used it against others; albeit in self-defense, that wasn't a line he was ready to cross. He also knew that if others were around to see him draw his weapon, it might turn two muggers into an entire city of enemies. Potentially an entire galaxy.

I guess it wouldn't make that much of a difference anyway, he thought with a scoff. He'd managed to get by on Nar Shaddaa hiding all his life and was sick of it, sick of hiding who he was and what he could do. Sick of living with the danger of him revealing himself as the Jedi he was. And not only Jedi , he was also Kjoil. A family name which rang as loud as Jedi and was every bit as hated and hunted by the Empire.

Skar pulled in a breath of humid air and licked the raindrops from his lips. Even though he knew he could not reveal himself, he didn't want to die. And if it came to a fight, he felt sure the situation would motivate him to draw his weapon in defense. He'd made an oath to himself long ago that he wasn't going to die on Nar Shaddaa and the lightsaber was the keeper of that oath.

Why now?

A month ago his foster parent, Lwen, had sat him down and explained everything Skar had wanted to know about his past and his real parents. Skar had always known that Lwen had extensive knowledge and information about them, but he didn't know the danger of that knowledge. Lwen was safeguarding the information for a time when Skar was ready for the responsibility. For when he was old enough. This had been the same time Skar had been given his lightsaber. Skar remembered the conversation, permanently tattooed into his mind.

I have something to tell you before you go out tonight, Lwen had said one late night and Skar had listened with all the interest of a young child being told fables and myths from the past. This isn't easy for me. As you know, I was a friend of your parents, Sasa and Koll. What you don't know and what I have been hiding from you for a very good reason, is that they were Jedi.

Skar remembered feeling what could only be described as complete denial.At first he didn't want to believe it. Jedi were mythical creatures from a time long ago, beings that were talked about as gods or at the very least enforcers of a greater will. He thought it was another drunken ramble coming, Lwen had taken up drinking heavily in the last couple of months, but the man had said the words with such intensity and fear that Skar didn't dare second-guess him.

Its true. Your father was a Jedi apprentice the first time I met him. He met your mother, Sasa, through his Master, Skind Kjoil, who was Sasa's brother.

Skind, Skar had said the name aloud, as if the sound of it brought forth memories he never knew he had, he was my uncle. My real uncle. The riots of thoughts inside Skar was feeding every desire he'd ever had to learn about his parents and stuffing that desire till it couldn't take anymore. At that point he already knew his parents' names but nothing about them as individuals. Believing they had been Jedi was mindboggling enough, and now a third person was also there. His real uncle. His mother's brother. A Jedi who had trained his father.

An uncle named Skind Kjoil.

Since then Skar had begun to feel parts of him fall into place. His past, how he had come to Nar Shaddaa. A month before that Skar had known nothing about the Jedi other than they were dead. A long time ago, their kind had been wiped clean from the face of the Galaxy. Lwen had told him stories about them, though never revealed that Skar's parents had infact been Jedi as well. Having heard about Jedi, Skar knew they were believed to have a connection with a life-force that gave them special powers. They were wizards, their powers used for the protection of good.

Since the Republic no longer existed, destroyed from the inside by vicious and vile corruption and now dubbed the Empire, Skar pondered how his Jedi heritage would help him. The Empire had made sure that every last one of the Jedi was destroyed, several thousands of them, according to Lwen. Their extinction originated shortly after the Clone Wars, and later the Emperor finalized their destruction in the Jedi Purge. Having spent his entire life on Nar Shaddaa, and knowing nothing about the world outside it, he trusted no one save Lwen. He didn't talk to anyone else, and he knew Lwen could be trusted. The man had made it a religion to keep Skar's Jedi heritage a secret for nearly two decades.

It didn't take long for Skar to understand why Lwen never mentioned it before. Jedi survivors were hunted. If he had been told at an earlier age, he wouldn't have been ready to deal with it. He knew that many people would do anything for money, even rat him out to the Empire. If he had been told at a younger age, he might have run off and told the wrong person, bragging about it, and the Empire would have found him in a matter of seconds. Now that he was older he was smart enough to keep this a secret.

They were Jedi?

They lived to protect the peace of the Galaxy. Your uncle went on to train your mother when your father became a Knight. But Sasa was left with her training uncompleted when Skind went away. Your father promised him that he would complete her training. She became a Jedi under his training, and during their time together their relationship bloomed into love. Your father fell in love with your mother, and together they had a small baby boy. That boy was you, Skar.

For the first time, Skar had witnessed something he'd never thought he would see. Lwen was usually strong and composed and didn't seem affected by any hardship, but coming clean to Skar had been too emotional for him. Lwen's face had twisted in sorrow and he'd turned away quickly, so Skar wouldn't see his eyes watering. Not able to hide it, Lwen wept and Skar had felt his despair radiating off him. Running his sleeve over his teary eyes, Lwen finally looked up at Skar.

Later your father died in the Clone Wars. He…never even got to see you.

Having never established a relationship with his father it was impossible for him to feel much. Skar had once thought his father was somewhere out there, looking for Skar. It saddened him to know, but he was still relieved to know the truth.

While the Jedi were being hunted down and slaughtered in the Jedi Purge, Sasa placed you into my hands, she knew that with my connections in the underworld I could get you to safety, away from the enemies of the Jedi.

Skar remembered feeling a respect for Lwen that he hadn't felt before. He'd always trusted the man like a father, but to know that his mother had felt so much faith in him cemented it. My mother knew you would save me.

It was all I could do to honor your father. He was my friend. I wish I could have saved your mother too, but she knew it would never work. Skar, even now the Empire is still hunting to find Jedi remnants. There are not many left, if any.

Lwen didn't have to say it. Skar understood that in his genes also burned the vibrant energy the Jedi mastered and that he too had the potential to become a Jedi. Skar had hugged Lwen as tight and caringly as he could, both of them trying to find comfort in each other. Some way to ease the tension and disunion. They stood there, taking comfort in each other for a long time. Sharing the pain and relief. Skar's relief in knowing the truth. Lwen's relief in telling Skar the truth.

There is more.

More?

Lwen pulled out a small hologram-projector along with the Jedi lightsaber that had belonged to his real uncle Skind Kjoil. Lwen later confessed to having stolen the lightsaber from Skind's tomb on Coruscant. The hologram-projector was a infact a Holocron teaching instrument for mastering the lightsaber. A Holocron was a repository of all the knowledge a Jedi had learned, but in his case it only contained lightsaber lessons instructed by his mother, Sasa Kjoil. A Holocron would contain only one Jedi's knowledge, and so the subjects in them varied considerably, but was limited to lightsaber training in his case.

I'm the last of the Jedi.

So there he was, left with the teaching tools of a weapon he couldn't possibly learn to master if he didn't have the tools to understanding the Force. He had no clue where to look or where to begin to train. Or even how to train. But there were hints. Skar had abilities that normal men didn't. Like psychometry and a small portion of telekinesis. Both abilities had not been forced into affect but had appeared out of nowhere, without Skar even focusing on trying. They flowed to him through the Force when he was most calm and centered.

The psychometry he could use at will though, and although an amazing feat it had never been of much use. Even with these abilities he lacked principal understanding of where they came from, what made them come alive, and how he would come to full understanding of them.

The Force was a thing, a belief, a religion even, that some people had trusted enough to put their lives in its hands, believing it would lead them on the right path, that it would show them the way their lives were destined to flow. But it had failed to show him any path that didn't lead into even more confusion. Skar knew he was a Jedi in the sense that the Force was in his family and that he was open to it; only he didn't know how to let it in. Feeling the lightsaber brush against his leg, he felt slightly ashamed for even wearing it. He was not worthy of it. Not yet.

Not before he learned how to be in touch with the Force.

From above two shadows watched the youth walking across the bridge, walking fast enough to arouse their suspicion. Clearly trying to evade his pursuers, the young man continued to cross the bridge with more than a little panic in his step. Faces hidden in the darkness of their deep hoods, they could sense his worry and his need for help. And yet the thought of intervening never occurred.

That's him, the smaller shadow said without words. Since his words were not verbal but rather by way of emotion, his impatience rang clear.

The larger shadow nodded. He will know soon enough.

Pulling himself out of reminiscing Skar looked back over his shoulder again to see the two figures pursuing him. He shook his head clear of thoughts and realized he would have to act soon. It was obvious to him now they wouldn't let him go. As the rain increased in its bombardment, Skar began to deliberately pick up his pace, but maintaining a casual sprint, hoping his pursuers would see it as nothing more than him running to get home and out of the rain. But before long he could hear them running in the splashes too. Skar sped up to a sprint and the rain washed away from his feet as he dashed down the bridge, his boots splashing through the surfaces of the puddles.

Skar dared to smile as a plan began to take shape.

As he ran by one of the metal-girders maintaining the balance and stability of the bridge, Skar's hand graced the surface of the cold and wet duracrete. Knowledge swam through his fingers instantly and he felt the only kind of Force he had learned to fully understand so far; psychometry. Skar ran on, now upgraded with knowledge and understanding of the bridge even those who built it did not know. Weaknesses, strengths and even the detailed schematics and layouts of the bridge's design. Up ahead came his window of opportunity.

It'll work. It has to work!

Unclipping the lightsaber from his belt as he ran, Skar activated the blade. Its fiery golden light illuminated the bridge in an instant bright flare, lighting up the shadows and corners like a torch.

Please work!

The muggers kept coming.

The smaller shadow stirred in his cloak. He's the one.

The two still maintained their position as observers, though impressed beyond their expectations by what they had seen. They even noticed what the muggers hadn't; his touch of the bridge which gave him the upper hand.

Before victory comes humility, my apprentice.

Skar, focused and burning with the feeling of triumph though his plan hadn't come full circle yet, cradled the lightsaber in his hand, hoping it would serve the purpose he had planned for it. Skar turned his sprint ninety degrees to the right and unfolded a full fledged leap, arms out to the sides, jumping over the railing of the bridge and plunged deep into its shadowy mouth. He held his arms out like a bird and allowed gravity to suck him deep down into the belly of darkness.

The smaller observer shuddered when he saw the boy disappear off the railing. The two muggers came running up to where the boy had dove off, stared over the railing, but saw only the flash of the lightsaber plunge deeper into the shadows, disappearing a few hundred levels down. The light faded eventually and the boy was forever lost to them.

The muggers looked at each other and shoulders lifted in confusion. Then after a few moments of yelling, pushing and blaming each other, they left the scene and vanished just like the boy.

Skar pulled himself up on the service-walkway just under the railing of the bridge. His arms and muscles ached from hanging on for so long. He struggled for air and sucked as much of it in as he could contain. The rain still pounded him, but he welcomed the sensation of coldness over his body.

A few weeks ago a part of the bridge had collapsed and the section had been rebuilt and Skar had noticed a few days agao that the maintenance workers had abandoned one of their work-platforms. Touching the Force and the bridge he knew where the rebuilt section was, and knew where the platform was, since it stood out like an alien presence on the bridge. He'd struck down hard on the platform ten feet below the bridge, and then hurried to roll off the edge and hung on by his fingers.

When his strength was fully recovered he got up and looked down into the darkness. He realized the gift he had in psychometry, he was able to read the past of an object simply by touching it. It was a Jedi trait, a magic trick, and the only one he had fully perfected, and though it was not always useful it had saved his life here.

The lightsaber, however, that was an entirely different matter. He had allowed the lightsaber to free fall into the underground to lure the muggers into thinking he had fallen with it. They had seen the flash as he ran on the bridge and then saw it jump over the railing and then disappear down below. They made the assumption, just as he hoped, that he was falling with it.

He concentrated hard and focused his mind on the lightsaber with the specter of the Force inside him and telekinesis brought the lightsaber back from the darkness and it slammed into his hand. Psychometry was his force, and telekinesis remained a gift he had very little luck with. It too came to him from the Force and so far it had been of absolutely no use. He'd managed to make it work in some situations but only with very small items like the lightsaber. He had tried with larger objects too, since the Force was supposed to be without physical limits, but the larger objects never responded to his touch.

In fact as he held the lightsaber, he remembered that it was the only thing he could call to him with the Force, perhaps so because the lightsaber was also an asset of the Force. It too relied on the Force for its best use and therefore was in direct contact with it as long as the user was.

Skar closed the poncho tighter around him and pulled the hood back over his head. He lifted his eyes to the nightline and saw the stars shining brightly above. He exhaled once more, letting the feeling of victory set in fully, and when it did he couldn't help smiling. He even chuckled a bit at his own success, feeling it was right for him to have that joy. Exhilarated, Skar couldn't help but laugh, the joy he felt was wonderful, like some illegal substance his uncle had warned him about.

And he lost himself inside the feeling, a truly wonderful sensation that sharpened his every sense, making him see everything clearly as if for the first time. He could feel time moving around him, see the very fabric of time unfold. He saw past, present and future grow and it brought forth a view of the entire Galaxy before him. Too many events, too much data, too much static and uncertainty, he couldn't piece it all together.

Although a bit scary, it gave him some feeling that what he was trying to do, what he was trying to become, wasn't entirely out of reach. For some reason he felt someone was watching him, waiting for him to become a Jedi so that he might protect them.

I proved a lot to myself just now, I wasn't sure it would work, but I kept telling myself it would. And it did.

Skar's heart warmed. He lost himself in the Force, and found himself wandering over thoughts he had never thought, feeling a power and surge he had never felt. A full connection with the Force, the first he had ever achieved.

And even as he concentrated on holding it, he lost it. Overrun by frustration, Skar pounded his fist on the railing. "Damn it," he cursed through his barred teeth.

The observers rose from the roof and looked at each other, their warm breath like smoke as they both exhaled. The rain soaked their cloaks and neither of them cared.

He is the one, Master.

The other nodded and started to walk over the rooftop. Proceed as we planned. I'll await your call.

The man watched as his Master walked away from him, and then looked back at the bridge and saw the boy coming up over the railing. The boy started running, as if in urgency. The man reached out to the Force to read the boy's mind, but found only confusion. Then he smiled at the boy as he disappeared off the bridge and into the city.

We'll meet soon enough.

With a violent snap of his cloak the man turned and followed his Master.

In the twilight of the glowing bulb above the door to his home, Skar moved the lightsaber around to the back of his belt, he didn't know if Lwen was home or if he was out drinking again, a habit he'd picked up recently, but he didn't want to talk about what had happened this evening, knowing his uncle would not approve of him wearing the lightsaber in public.

Touching the panel, typing in the access-code, the door slid open and Skar sought refuge from the rain. He threw his dripping poncho on the floor of the small hall, and walked on past Lwen's bedroom and stumbled into the living room.

The sensors picked up his movement and immediately shone to let him see the room. All four walls, including floor and ceiling, lit up as he walked in. The room had a desk where Lwen usually dwelled. A console stood in the corner, two seats and a table were in the center of the room, and a kitchen existed beyond the living room.

Skar almost didn't notice the sleeping Lwen sitting in one of the chairs facing him, with his dirty and wet boots up on the table. Lwen had been given custody of Skar, after his mother had died. He was in no way related to Lwen genetically, but he liked to think to think of him as an uncle due to Lwen's prior friendship with his real parents. He had been his father's best friend, like a brother, so Skar had chosen to call him uncle.

When he had been younger, Lwen would tell him stories of his parents and their adventures together whenever Skar couldn't fall asleep. His favorite had been the one involving Lwen's first meeting with his father, Koll, infact that very meeting had happened right there on Nar Shaddaa. Lwen had been making a living as a smuggler, though not a very successful one, when Skar's father had first met him. Koll had hired Lwen to fly him to another system, Lwen always liked to point out that if he knew back then what was in store, he never would have taken the job. His father had taken Lwen through hell and back on a quest to track down a band mercenaries that had struck at a Republic outpost.

During that tumultuous mission Lwen and Koll had grown close and had stuck together. Lwen always smiled when recollecting the old days, recalling his youth.

A youth that was escaping him faster and faster. Lwen's buzzcut and gray beard gave him the look of a strong determined man and Skar knew that people respected him for his sternness, some even feared him, and he had the short fuse to go with it. If Skar didn't know him and love him, he too would have felt smaller by the look of him. But the rough persona he portrayed when sober and alert, was nowhere to be found in him now. Skar placed the blame mostly on the heavy snoring.

The lights awakened Lwen and after a heartfelt groan he looked at Skar through drowsy eyelids. His light-blue eyes shone under gray eyebrows and wrinkles. "Skar? What the…what are…" he had to concentrate to make his words work the way he wanted, "so…you decided to come home?" The slurred speech was testament of Lwen's less than sober situation. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I…"

The man shifted awkwardly in his chair, as if he'd never tried one before. "Why do you persist in making me worry about you?"

Skar had a feeling Lwen was trying to excuse his own situation as being simply worried about Skar, but rather than forcing the issue Skar found it best to just play along. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Lwen growled. "Sorry isn't going to cut it, boy. What were you out doing? Flashing that lightsaber at everybody again?"

Skar swallowed hard. "Lwen, you know I -."

Lwen put his feet on the floor, a few empty bottles that had once contained alcoholic liquids clanged by his boots. Lwen sat forward in the chair, placed his elbows on his knees and brushed the sleep from his eyes. "You're a big Jedi, aren't you? A big hero? Think you can save everybody?"

"Lwen, you're drunk."

"What!" Lwen shouted and glared at him with disgust. "What did you just say? You don't know everything, you're not that much of a Jedi, Skar!" Lwen lifted his chin. "I was once a respected man, I had a name, a name that was known in the Republic as someone who could be trusted. Your father trusted me, your mother trusted me, the whole Jedi bunch, whatever good they ever did, trusted me! Now look at me. I'm nothing!"

Skar shook his head. "No, you're not."

Lwen shrugged. "Here I am, stuck on this cursed moon, stuck with a boy who dreams of becoming a Jedi! You're not a Jedi. You're nothing too!"

Skar didn't know what to say, though he suspected what Lwen was yelling was just drunken talk. But then again, there was the old saying about truth being found through alcohol. "Lwen, you've had too much to drink, please go to bed."

Startling Skar, Lwen furiously kicked the table to the other end of the room. "Don't you start telling me what to do! Everybody's telling me what to do, but no one ever asked me! Your mother did that too! I became your guardian so that you could become a Jedi, but its useless. You're just a kid - "

Skar screwed his eyes shut in anger, and thought it was amazing that Lwen could be so close and still feel so far away. "Maybe if you didn't drink so much you would know that I'm trying every second to be what you want me to be!"

Lwen scoffed. "You may be trying but its useless, Skar. There's a whole galaxy out there just aching to find out about you so they can sell you out for a handful of credits."

"So? Am I just supposed to give up?" Skar held out his hands, growing more angry with each second. "Give up like you?"

Lwen snickered at something only he could find funny. "It would probably save your life, boy. And, yeah, I think you should let it go. This is over your head. There's no one left to help you train. I sure as hell don't have anything to teach you."

Skar's teeth ground together. "Yeah, I'm starting to realize that too."

The drunk man frowned. "Joke all you want. And do whatever the hell you want. Hope you make it." Lwen pointed a thumb at his own chest. "My money is on Vader."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Skar said and turned around to go to his room. He wasn't interested in continuing this conversation.

"Wait," Lwen rasped.

Skar sighed, but stopped and turned to listen.

Lwen sat forward and looked down at his own fingers. "Skar. Your mother, she placed you in my hands, right here, where I could protect you. Now you're out there and I can't keep track of you. You've grown, but the dream you were supposed to live up to, is not gonna happen. There is no one left to train you." Lwen pushed himself out of the chair and made fists of his hands. "Its not…that I don't want to hope things will be okay. Its just…I don't see how."

Skar understood. "I know. But I can't just let this fade away. I have to keep at it. Its the only way I have any chance of finding a way."

Lwen placed his hands in his pockets and nodded, a sullen expression on his face. "Then you keep at it. Don't let bastards like me get you down."

Skar felt like crying, and soon after he did. "Thanks, Lwen." He walked over to his only family and held him in tight. Skar hugged him as firmly as he could, but Lwen didn't take his hands out of his pockets for some reason. Skar kept hugging him and it seemed everything would be alright. Skar felt that things were back to normal, he almost felt happy again when the old man said the sentence that would haunt him forever.

"You're a coward."

A cold fist closed on Skar's heart as he pulled himself free of the embrace, the tears still ran down his cheeks and the blurred image of Lwen seemed unreal. "What?"

"Who am I kidding?" Lwen asked no one with a snarl, his breath heavy with alcohol. "You were your mother's dream. A prophecy. Now you're just a joke."

"Why would you say that - "

"Hope is for fools, Skar. I'm fed up with this. You don't need me anymore. I've done my part. But… I'll help you one last time," Lwen took his hands out of his pockets and opened his shirt, "you're gonna have to learn to kill, and I know you can't. Jedi takes lives to protect others, I remember, and you're gonna learn too. Start with me." Lwen stared at him coldly. "Kill me, Skar."

Skar stepped back. "No".

"Come on, don't be scared. I remember. Jedi, they killed," he snorted, "they killed me. I just as well may be dead." Lwen shivered and tugged at his shirt. "I remember back in the days of the Republic. Life was wonderful, I had friends, I had a life. Now all I have is you. What happened to my life, what happened to those days?" Lwen growled and a side of him emerged that Skar had never wanted to see. "There's no point to it all. There's no shame in giving up when the rest of Galaxy has, too."

Skar wanted to say something to make Lwen see things differently, but he felt himself being slowly convinced that the old man was right. Skar lowered his head. "I don't want this, Lwen, and I didn't ask for this either. I can't do it alone."

Lwen's blue eyes narrowed. "But you are alone, Skar. And you're fighting against something too big for you. You're spitting in the wind!"

Skar shook his head. "I won't give up, Lwen. I won't make you right. I won't give up like you."

Lwen shook his head, and almost stumbled over by the effort. "I've never been this clear, my boy. Do it. Give an old man his last wish. Set me free…"

More angry than he'd ever felt, Skar turned and ran to the door that lead back into the rain, and into the hollow and cold darkness of Nar Shaddaa that suddenly seemed a lot better than staying with Lwen, who was undergoing a depression like nothing Skar had ever witnessed before.

Unlocking the door and picking up his poncho, Skar knew he could find another place to sleep, like the old abandoned traffic control not far away. He'd spent many nights there since Lwen had taken to drinking. A part of him wanted to stay at home, the angry part of him. The furious part of him that felt betrayed by a man he trusted more than anyone. The only person he thought he could count on. Lwen was still screaming in the living room when Skar, with decisive steps and feeling more grown than ever, tears blending with the falling rain, reached the street level.

"You coward! Come back here!"

Perched like a gargoyle on the rooftop of Skar's home the shadow man watched the youth run out the door and down into the streets. Amidst the sound of thunder and the all too close rain, the shadow man could sense Skar's inner rage and fury. The boy ran off down into an alley and vanished briefly from the man's sight.

With the aid of the Force the man leapt gracefully from the rooftop to another and another, following the boy from above, staying always concealed with the help of the dark canvas of night and the sound of pouring rain.

Jedi do not dream. But they do hope…

Skar awoke in an unreal world, as the distant voice plowed its way through his thoughts and settled there, like a reminder, a whisper inside his mind of things to come. Within his dream the words slowly lost context as rain poured down hard around Skar, wetting his clothes and soaking his hair.

As he looked around, he became more sure that although the rain was familiar what he was seeing was only a dream, that the world around him was a figment of his imagination. It wasn't real. Standing on the edge of a cliff, he peered off into the peripheral. There were no massive skyscrapers like there were on Nar Shaddaa, no endless lanes of traffic. It was a world as pure and untouched as any he'd ever seen in pictures or heard of.

Beneath the cliff he was standing on the sea stretched off into the horizon and the water was dark blue. Enormous clouds and towering mountains behind him stretched up to the overshadowing rain-clouds. He looked down from the cliff and saw waves crashing against the shore.

The moon was high.

Though knowing it wasn't real, Skar felt peace standing on top of the cliff. The rain dripping off his face didn't bother him, nor the soaked hair that clung to his head. He didn't know why but something about the world felt familiar, it felt like he had been there before. He felt like he belonged on this world.

He shifted on his heel and looked at a small rain puddle by his feet, but didn't recognize the man he saw in its watery reflection. This man was older, he had short tussled black hair, a beard, red tattoos were painted over his hands. It was not common, as much as he had been told, to dream of being someone else. Yet something in the eyes of the man reminded Skar of something. Something familiar.

That isn't me, Skar told himself, I'm sure.

He felt his heart start pounding as he looked up, to see a second person. Cloaked in a dark robe and holding a green lightsaber, it looked more menacing than anything Skar had ever seen in real life. The rain sizzled on the green blade, small puffs of smoke drifting in the wind. Hollowed in shadows and terrifying in persona, the nightmare looked up and he saw glimpses of a face under the dripping hood.

Skar's right hand flicked the switch of something he hadn't realized was in his hand and a trail of light, the color of fire, erupted from its handle. Skar heard the small puffs as the rain touched his blade, and somewhere in his mind he understood that it was his own lightsaber, the one he had been given by Lwen. The one that had belonged to his uncle, Skind Kjoil.

Am I seeing things through his eyes? His past?

Before an answer was found, Skar's feet spread apart by their own will and readied himself for the unavoidable battle. The nightmare stepped closer, and held up the weapon, showering the dark cloak in green light. His adversary stretched tall and Skar caught another glimpse of the person's face under the hood but it moved into another shadow before he could make recognize any marks.

His adversary's voice sounded like thunder, full of hate. "I am a prisoner of fate, a prisoner of emotion and destiny, the curse in all genes. My past cannot be undone, nor my future. Friend or foe; you will die."

Skar's lips peeled back in a grin, beyond his control. "Not without taking you with me, old friend."

His attacker spun the weapon of green light and advanced on Skar, the blade held high and with death as its only intention. "Then we will fight again in hell!"

With speed impossible for humanoids, the two attacked each other sending sparks and cracks from their weapons. Everything moved in slow motion to him, the swinging blades, the fast foot movement, the floating cloaks, and the decisions. Skar lunged for a high attack, striking down on top of the green blade. Seeing the fight through the eyes of the stranger, he spun right and attacked low, then pivoted back to his original position and lunged at the back of his foe. The green blade parried and thrust away his blade. The deadly enemy then spun full circle and struck at Skar in a cut that would have taken off his head, if he hadn't ducked.

From his hunched-down position, Skar sliced with lightning speed, but hit nothing except empty air as the adversary leaped above the cut. The dark being back-flipped into a handstand, swirling on its hand before landing on its feet. Not wasting a second the monster then moved in close and struck at Skar's shoulder. Skar parried and moved into his adversary's inner circle of defense and landed a wet fist on his throat. The enemy backed off, coughing, clutching its own throat.

Skar waited for his enemy to recover. The green blade came back up, protecting its holder once again. Skar's nemesis advanced again, this time raining blows upon his blade and finally kicking him in the side of his pelvis. A jolt of pain shot through his back and Skar fell over, his face drowning in mud.

He tried pressing himself up but he felt lightning strike down in the back of his thigh and knew instantly he was too late.

He screamed in agony, though his lungs couldn't match the same level of pain his soul endured. He looked over his shoulder to see the attacker tower over him. The pain exploded again, even stronger this time, as the green blade pulled itself free of his leg. Skar's own weapon was still alive, but it was too far from his hand for him to reach.

Skar felt a boot land on his wounded thigh and he winced in pain. Trying to unlock his jaws from the tormenting pain, Skar felt the boot grind against his wounded thigh, magnifying the pain and filling him with rage.

Though it wasn't him crying out the words, he heard them as his own. "Stop!"

The warrior laughed. "I've taught you well, at least concerning honor. You will have a quick death." The green blade was then raised high, and the blade reversed, intending to stab through Skar's spine. There was hesitation, the warrior stood there in a form of murderous ecstasy.

Skar spat mud from his lips. "Make the kill. Don't be sloppy."

He heard the last laugh coming from the demonic assassin as the blade stabbed down, severing his spine in two and burning through the ground beneath him.

The creature grinned in perverse pleasure. "Do you…see your life flash before you?" it asked with a deep rasp.

Skar's throat clamed shut, as his eyes began to water. "You betrayed me…"

Before oblivion came, Skar smelled his own burnt clothes and flesh and he felt his heart refusing to beat again. He wanted to exhale but his body froze and he stiffened.

Coming out of the dream screaming and tossing, Skar fell off the bunk onto the floor dripping in sweat. He coughed and tossed back his sweat-driven hair. For a few minutes he hyperventilated, the fear of the adversary, though he knew it had just been a dream, still very real. His hands were trembling and he couldn't gather his thoughts into anything but one thought;

Jedi do not dream. But they do hope…

He pulled himself over to the fresher-station, and splashed water onto his face. Looking up into the mirror he saw himself again, but looking so panicked and frightened that he hardly recognized himself. The dream had seemed so real, so alive, he had even felt the stab in the thigh on his own body, and even though he knew it was sweat, he couldn't shake the imaginative rain from his head.

But none of the people in the dream had been him, he was sure of it. They were not anything he had ever seen. Nothing he even knew had ever happened. But their weapons had been lightsabers, they had been Jedi.

What's happening to me? Is the Force showing me the future or the past?

Maybe both.

With the mystery unsolved, Skar stepped outside on the balcony and took a look at the world he was presently a prisoner of. Nar Shaddaa, otherwise known as the Smuggler's Moon, was nothing more than a halfway for traders and merchants to come and do business with goods and valuables. Usually illegal. A utopia for smuggling, a city known for its lack of justice and law. A haven for those who had chosen the illegal activities that life offered. Nar Shaddaa was like a dark, humid, shadowy nightmare.

Like Coruscant a planet engulfed in construction, but without the pristine beauty.

The packs made it easy for Skar to blend in. Shops and stands filled the sides of the streets and the fronts of houses, all tall buildings that looked devastated enough to be pulled down. A huge network of buildings covering the entire moon, a sanctuary for people who wanted to disappear and never be found again. Despite security forces, the law was not alive here. Justice was made only by the rules those bigger and more dangerous decided upon on those who were smaller. It would be easy to hide here, in this haven of lawlessness.

And Skar was hiding.

Nal Hutta set over the iron sky of Nar Shaddaa, and Skar made a small salute, partly in joke and partly in hope that he would survive long enough to see the swamp planet again. It was night again on Nar Shaddaa now, the moon of Nal Hutta, most of the citizens in that sector had retired to their homes and beds while he was free to do his training undisturbed.

Skar placed the Holocron on the floor of the office in the high tower. The tower was originally a beacon transmitter for incoming space traffic, but it had served its purpose and was abandoned. The office on top had a 360 degrees view of Nar Shaddaa and Skar liked hanging out there. He could see for miles, past the tall spears and buildings of Nar Shaddaa. And when he looked down he could see traffic growing and dying with each hour.

Skar shrugged off the thoughts of death, past and future and, taking a deep breath, he placed the small projector on the table. With touch he activated the Holocron and small lights flicked on around the edges of the projector. Finally the center of it illuminated and like small stars colliding a ghostly figure appeared in midair, no bigger than his hand.

The ghostly figure of his mother came to life to teach him, once again, how to utilize his lightsaber. Her brown eyes were kind and she had a warm smile. From the youthful look she was endeared with, he gathered that she would have been only a couple of years older than him. It felt strange for him to see his mother, when she was so close to his own age. She was beautiful, her dark long hair was tied into a knot. Her hands were folded at the small of her back and she wore a brown and sand-colored uniform of a sort he had never seen before. A lightsaber was clipped to her belt.

The woman, his mother, Sasa Kjoil, raised her chin and looked directly into his eyes, as the Holocron played the introduction to the training-lessons. Skar had viewed the intro many times, but it still hurt his heart to see his mother and to hear her dying words.

"I sure hope this is working. Skar, if Lwen hasn't changed too much over the years, you will be the first or second to be viewing this hologram. I will have to make this short, my son. My ship has fallen under attack by the Empire and it won't be long until they breach the hull."

Her sad, beaten voice went straight to Skar's heart. She looked down at her feet for an instant, and then back up, her voice starting to shake. "My precious son, I can't believe our last contact has to be like this, years and space apart. I love you, my son, I do love you of all that I am. As did your father. I am sad to say he never got to see you, though I know he loved you every bit as much as I do. Lwen was his best friend, I don't know if he ever told you that, or if he ever talked about your father and I. Koll and I loved him dearly, for the sacrifice he made. And for the help he has been - Well, he raised you so you already know that, but here is where it gets harder."

Her breath was all he could hear for seconds. "I am a Kjoil Knight, the same as your father was, and your uncle, and you. Our race, our family, the Kjoil, are bound by the Force. Epigones of the Force. The Republic has been corrupted and destroyed by the Empire. Now the Jedi are being hunted and destroyed by the agents of this evil. We have been betrayed and only a handful of us are still alive," she looked away for a second, as if she heard something, "but we won't be for long. None of us will survive," her brown eyes closed as she bravely held the tears back, "except perhaps you."

Her eyes began to tear and two wet lines ran down her cheeks. "I love you so much, my boy. Never doubt that. I have placed instructions inside this Holocron that can help you. Follow the instructions you find here. It will help you to become a Kjoil. Which is your true heritage of the Force - " a large blast rocked the hologram picture and his mother had to support herself against a wall. " - I have no more time, other than to say that I know you will succeed. Tell Lwen, that I am more grateful to him than he could possibly imagine. Goodbye, my son - "

The last he saw of her, was her hand reaching up to touch the recorder. Her hand was tattooed, odd lines and symbols ran back and forth like the leaves of a plant. The red lines ran around and between her fingers and stopped at her wrist. Somehow they looked similar to the ones on the hands of the Jedi in his dream, and he wondered what that could mean. The transmission from his mother had been sent during the Purge. And presumably few minutes before his mother had been killed.

And it only confirmed what he already knew. His mother had died in the Jedi Purge. His father had died in the Clone Wars. His uncle had disappeared. And all the Jedi were dead…

Skar had never felt so alone.

Reluctantly and contemplating what good it was for, he went on with the lightsaber-practice. He clipped the lightsaber from his belt, and noticed the matching red symbols on its metallic surface. Symbols which ran in an odd pattern, which made no sense to him, but probably made much sense to the owner before him. His uncle. Again those symbols haunted him like an unsolved mystery. His mother had them, his uncle's lightsaber had them. Even that Jedi in the dream had them.

He began to think it was born into the flesh of the Kjoil only to remember that he had none, so his theory didn't match. Holding the weapon he felt again the recognition through the Force and through his ability in psychometry. A sense, small visions of the thing's achievements, feelings and emotions. It had belonged to his uncle. All though he didn't know his uncle, he felt a familiar sensation, as if he had known him. Images of what he was like. Warm, kind, strong, but sad.

And more importantly he was filled with the knowledge and textures on how the tool functioned. Within seconds the tool was no longer a stranger to him, it felt more like an old friend he'd hadn't seen in a while, or a memory lost beyond time.

Skar put his thump on the ignition-switch, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His finger circled around the switch and then pressed it down. With a loud snap-hiss, the room was illuminated with a golden light. The blade itself, was about a meter in length and was colored like fire. It was a weapon, of great force and perfection. The weapon hummed constantly, and its pitch changed as he moved it. It was perfect in his eyes. It was so simple and yet the deadliest weapon he had ever seen. It demanded far more expertise than a blaster, which meant the user or wearer of the weapon himself was outstanding, in not only mastering of the weapon but also self-control.

A lightsaber could be wielded properly only after years of extensive training and disciplined use. Constructed by a Jedi many times during his or her lifetime, often marking a change of state in the Jedi himself as he progressed in the ways of the Force. A lightsaber would gradually become part of a Jedi as he used it, though Skar didn't feel that close to it yet. In fact he feared training, thinking he might screw up and die by his own hand. Everything he knew about the lightsaber he knew from touching it. It all flowed to him in a flash whenever he touched it.

Skar hoped he would someday learn to control the weapon as perfectly as the owner, Skind Kjoil, had.

Someday I will.

The Holocron taught him to respect the weapon as more than just a tool or a weapon, it was the very essence of a Jedi. It was what made a Jedi. It flowed and moved as its master moved. The skillful wielding of the legendary blade was considered the true mark of a Jedi. He had taken lessons from the Holocron for a month now on how to use it, hoping it would bring him closer to becoming a Jedi Knight. But he had made no progress other than knowing the weapon was not something to play around with.

Nevertheless that was what the next three hours consisted off. He trained himself in moving the blade around, and trying to link his touch with the Force to help him control the lightsaber easier. He listened to the instructions and did his best to match them. The lightsaber sliced through empty air and cut through imaginary enemies. The lightsaber could cut anything, except another lightsaber and a material called cortosis ore.

All the while training, the unanswered questions about the difference between Kjoil and Jedi and the reason for the tattoos on the hands and lightsabers of the Kjoil kept resurfacing. And the onslaught of knowing he might never find the answers ruined his self-esteem.

Why was he here then? Why had he been put into life if there was no way he could be that man that all signs pointed to that he would be? He couldn't just sit down and give up like Lwen, and he was determined to prove himself not a coward. But there was no road that could lead him there.

And Skar was tired of waiting for a sign.

Once he grew tired and concluded his training for the night, Skar took a public-lift down to one of the lowest levels of Nar Shaddaa. The level was known as The End since it was the last level that had any business, the levels below it were only havens for those who hid and those who scavenged their way through life. Skar had never been down there nor did he have any wish to go. It was not for normal men, it was a place for psychotics and lunatics. To go there was to desire a mugging or an ambush by either murderers or thieves. Even the security forces, the little which Nar Shaddaa had, didn't go down there.

Skar crossed through a couple of alleys before reaching his destination. He'd visited the tavern before in the twilight hours of the night, hanging out and avoiding going home. His lightsaber tucked inside his belt out of sight and the Holocron likewise hidden, he stepped inside the dusty bar. A wooden sign was dangling over the entrance.

The One-Legged Rancor.

Skar walked in as silently and as casual as he knew how. Immediately the humidity got to him and the odor of alcohol, sweat, smoke and something smelling like a mixture of all three hit him. He chose to breathe through his mouth instead, making the stench more bearable. All eyes gazed on him for two seconds, but it was the longest two seconds of his life. The mutter of talking died out as everyone inspected him, examining him as a threat or unworthy. He tried to look undeterred, like he'd been to the place several times before and was used to hanging out in a bar. Only the first part was true but certainly not the second part, the stench still got to him every time.

All the eyes resumed to their prior occupation, card games, smoking and drinking, signing him off as unimportant. The continuing mutter of drunken talk resumed, and Skar exhaled happily.

As far as he could see, only one person hadn't taken his glare off him. A humanoid sitting way in the back. The man stared right through him, like he knew how scared Skar had just been. It wasn't uncommon to think that the man had suffered the treatment Skar had when he'd entered. In some bars humans were unappreciated, in same way as droids were unwanted, but Skar had frequented this particular bar before and had never had any difficulty before. He made his way over to the bar. He didn't plan on drinking, but it would look suspicious if he just sat in a corner and didn't drink anything. Lwen had taught him all about acting natural in specific environments.

Skar picked up his beverage and strolled to an empty booth in the far end of the bar. It took a lot of strength on his part to not stare back at the other occupants of the bar. He felt like he had been put in the middle of life and all sides of the universe were staring at him, and he too was staring out at every corner of life and culture that existed. Every soul in the bar was either talking to a companion, sleeping over the table, or calmly slouched over a drink, contemplating something Skar could only guess at.

He found the establishment suitable for a place to stay while he gathered the guts to look Lwen in the eyes again. Skar only hoped his uncle had sobered up and was reasonable again by the time it would happen.

Drink in hand he walked to the back of the bar and was about to seat himself, when a large alien blocked his way and pushed him back roughly with a furred paw. Skar looked over the huge bulk of the juggernaut who held the paw on his chest, pushing him away from his seat. The alien was a foot taller than himself, covered in fur, and three times as wide. And to add to the scare, tiny claws protruded from its fingers, sharpened on purpose it seemed. He could feel the tiny claws digging through the fabric on his chest, resting against his ribs. The head was twice the size of Skar's and had four horns, one at each temple and two on top of the scalp. Slobbering fangs were dripping saliva down the sides of the huge mouth.

And it would seem this particular alien hunted in packs. Skar looked around the alien's huge bulk and saw two other aliens, of another species, centering around him and blocking any chance of him leaving the bar.

The furred one began poking his chest with a single claw, speaking in a low very animal-like growl. "In here we don't want you."

Skar recognized the species. A Sakval. He'd never seen one of those in this bar before. Thinking it would be best not to start mocking the alien's poor use of Basic, Skar set himself and tried to emit confidence. "Why is that?"

"Humans Imperials," the alien growled, "we have no love for Empire."

Skar looked around and saw that no other humans were inside the bar, the man who'd stared at him when he'd entered had disappeared mysteriously in the meantime, maybe they'd already gotten to him. All he could see were aliens of different races, species and variations. It was a common stigma that humans were always suspected as being Imperial officers or agents because the Empire only accepted humans into their ranks. "I-I hate the Empire too. I just want a place to sit down."

The large alien snarled and leaned his head down to place his slobbering mouth in front of Skar's face. Menacingly sharp teeth oozing with saliva was all Skar could see.

"Sit in the street."

Skar swallowed.

And going against the only rule Lwen had given him about the lightsaber, his free hand flew inside his cloak and pulled it out. Instead of igniting it, he merely placed the pommel under the alien's chin. Overthrown by his move, the Sakval glanced down confusingly at the weapon it was being threatened with. The two others stepped closer, eager to save their comrade, but halted when Skar moved his finger up over the ignition switch. They recognized the weapon.

Why am I doing this? he thought briefly, but hoped his fear wouldn't show on his face.

The furred alien snarled in anger but accepted surrender. "Drink, then you leave."

Skar dared to smile and pressed the lightsaber's pommel harder against the alien's chin. "And I want to be left alone."

The alien swallowed, the lump in his throat touching the lightsaber. "Of course."

Skar removed the lightsaber from the alien's throat and watched as the aliens left the bar. Hopefully all of them would forget him soon enough, but he doubted it deeply. Skar brushed off the fear and seated himself in the dark booth. All the occupants of the bar were looking at him, a couple even raised their glass in a cheer, but Skar ignored them. Apparently they were as impressed as he was by the fact he was still alive. Although feeling happy that he had another victory under his belt, he still thanked fate that it hadn't come to violence.

I don't want to fight anyone. There is a time for fighting and a time for running. Different circumstances. Running makes me feel like a coward, but then again, Death is always worth running from. If only Lwen understood that I'm not a coward -

"This seat taken?"

Skar looked up to see a man, although his first impression was that this man was no more than a few years older than himself and Skar had not chosen to label himself a man yet. Skar recognized the guy, it was the one that'd given him the stare when he'd stepped inside the bar, the one that had disappeared when the aliens challenged him. His long brown hair was greased and his clothes were laced with dust and rain. Dressed in a long dark coat and under it a tight gray bodysuit, a deadly looking blaster hung just below his hip, strapped to his thigh. His strong jaw was covered with a gritty stubble and a few scars ran here and there, though none too deep.

Despite his rough appearance, Skar's impression of the tall and rank man was that he matched the very definition of strength and self-assuredness. Like a soldier or a mercenary. As for the clothes the man looked like a vagrant but Skar promised himself not to mention that out loud. The man wore an expression that could not be described in a single word. It was more like I've-seen-the-world-and-didn't-like-what-I-saw-but-I-survived. The unpleased bitter look of his mouth conflicted with the careful hope burning behind his eyes.

Before Skar could send him on his way, the man, uninvited, seated himself across from Skar and a servant-droid delivered a mug of ale before him. "Consider yourself lucky, kid; last week the guy they went after didn't walk away. Maybe if he had your guts, he would've still been alive."

Skar looked at the bar entrance, glad to know the aliens had left the bar. "They stayed away from you?"

The man shook his head. "No, a few days ago they decided I was the next in line," he took a big gulp of ale, wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Back then there were four of them." The man winked.

Skar remained composed. "I just wanted to be alone."

The man smiled like a predator. "You sound like someone who's never been in a fight but knows he will someday. You're worried you won't be able to pull the trigger when the time comes?"

Skar opened his mouth but didn't talk. The man let his hand fall down on the blaster on his hip, and caressed it like a pet. Then he scouted the tavern, clearing searching for enemies. "Whenever you have enemies, you either end up pointing a blaster at someone, or someone points a blaster at you, kid. I saw the weapon you pulled on that Sakval."

Skar felt the weight of the lightsaber hanging on his belt like a burden.

The man smiled again and looked around the bar. "I followed you here, kid. Actually I've been following you for a few days now. Ever since I saw you in the Lower Levels. On the bridge."

Skar felt as if his entire body lost form and he dissolved into a puddle of shock and confusion. "You - " He couldn't finish the sentence. He recalled feeling watched, though. "You were watching me?"

"I also followed you to the tower just now, before you came here." The man returned his gaze to Skar, and turned his voice into a whisper, raising a single eyebrow. "You stole it, right? You're no Jedi."

"And what if I am?"

The man stared at Skar for a while and then shook his head lightly. "No, I don't buy it. Sorry."

Skar smiled shrewdly back at the man. "You're right. I'm not." He leaned forward in his seat, raised his left hand, reached out to the Force. The man's drink left his side of the table and flew into Skar's hand. "I'm something else."

Time fell out of Skar's grasp and he lost a handful of hours in the bar, yet the interior of it remained as lively, noisy and bright as it had when Skar had walked in. In the company of the mysterious stranger Skar talked enthusiastic about the Force and Jedi. But the later part of the discussion slowly drifted into incomprehension for Skar. Though he thought of himself as strong, his willpower was fighting a losing battle against Corellian liquor.

Three empty glasses stood on the table in front of him and Skar felt dazedly embarrassed. His head was swimming and he could hardly keep himself upright. It was a disappointment since he never got drunk and he certainly hadn't planned on it when he walked inside the bar.

The need for solitude had vanished, however, and he found himself engulfed in a conversation, perhaps one that would take him in the right direction. This man, who still hadn't revealed his name or purpose, seemed to know his way around Jedi, and Skar sucked it all up.

Along with the liquor.

Skar played with his empty glass. "When I touch things, I see its pasts. Like this glass," he held it up in the light, "I can tell you about the last four people who've drunk from it. I can also tell you that it hasn't been cleaned in between them."

"Its a Jedi-trait."

"Not cleaning them?"

The man laughed. "No. The psychometry part of it."

Skar's busy fingers couldn't stop fumbling with his glass, knocking it over and nearly breaking it. "It doesn't feel like magic," he raised the glass back up but it took more than one try. "It wasn't something I did on purpose. It just…comes to me. Out of nothing. Something takes over my mind and acts on its own."

The man frowned. "Who ever said Jedi were magicians? Everything mysterious is magic to you?"

Skar shrugged. "Well, not everything."

The man blinked. "Kid, things exist in life that you can't see, hear or even touch. There is more than the physical form of life."

Skar sat on his fingers to keep them from messing with the glass. "Like the Force?"

The man shrugged. "Yeah, but it doesn't stop there. Some think life is meaningless, yet they still strive to stay alive, but to what end? If life is meaningless, why live at all?"

Skar pondered. "The little things?"

The man smiled. "Are they worth it in the long run?"

Skar guessed he wasn't qualified to answer that question since his life hadn't exactly been filled with any kinds of little things that made life bearable. "I guess not."

"To live without a goal is cowardice. The majority of living beings believe in some form of super-being or super-energy that has given life its form. Something made life, Skar. No matter what religion or what belief you have, you can't deny that life is constructed. It didn't just pop out of thin air. And if something or someone, whatever religion you hold, went out of its way to create life, we have to imagine it was for a purpose."

The man laughed, but with some hesitation. "Anyone who thinks life has no meaning, isn't worth the gift of life at all. They just need to open their eyes to all the life around them. Look at this place, Skar," the man gestured to the other occupants of the tavern, "you're sitting in a room with beings from all over the Galaxy. In different shapes and forms, but all of them need to have the same faith in existence. Everyone has an idea of what the purpose in life is, and they operate from that idea to meet their goal."

The man scratched his beard, as he made his real point. "The Jedi were not magicians, they just have access to a power-source that others don't. Perhaps they were those who were closest to realizing the ultimate purpose of life. The ultimate goal."

Skar snickered. "Is that what you're looking for? The ultimate goal of life? Good luck."

The man's blue eyes fixed on Skar, and silenced his snickering. "You're not listening to me."

Skar blushed. "Sorry."

"Everyone looks for something they are not sure exists," the man looked out at the bar again, "and though very few find what they're looking for, they find other truths along the way. You do not find the meaning of your life, you learn it."

Skar nodded and though he was still affected by the liquor, he could sense truth in those words that went beyond intoxication. Convinced by the words of the stranger, that Jedi weren't magicians, it only presented another problem for Skar. Skar had never, and he was dead sure of this, believed in any religion or any facet of one neither.

He had never had faith in a higher being or even pondered if such was really true. Being raised on the chaotic world of Nar Shaddaa had also made him sure that even if there was an afterlife, be it a hell or an empty void of nothing, it couldn't stand up to be even remotely as terrifying as Nar Shaddaa. But if the Force was a religion or a faith, that meant you'd have to believe in it. You'd have to trust it, and truly have faith that it was not just a hoax.

Religions usually implied praying or sacrificing, either material possession or aspects of one self, but Skar didn't know how the Force worked. The use he'd have of it, only appeared to him when he concentrated and focused very hard, or sometimes out of nowhere. The two were of very different methods and it made Skar wonder if one of them was wrong or incorrect. When he used psychometry it needed no effort, his body absorbed knowledge naturally, but telekinesis required strong efforts of the mind.

Also there had been the incident on the bridge where he'd felt the very structure of the universe inside him and received emotions from all around him. A touch at the very fabric that held the Galaxy together. An enlightenment of all life and a true moment of contained power within.

That was something he longed to feel again. He remembered feeling pride in himself and feeling victorious. His self-confidence and belief in himself had opened himself to the Force. So control and trust were key-elements. If you believed it, you could do it. He'd opened himself up to it and the touch of it was awe-inspiring, a wonderful feeling of warmth and feeding to his hungering.

Like a blade it had cut through him but not with pain; but with strength, courage, and confidence. Filling every hollow shadow of him with light and consuming every doubt. Conquering fear, pain and hate. Devouring doubt and breeding hope.

He knew how to use psychometry and telekinesis, but the feeling on the bridge led him to believe he had more abilities waiting for him to find. He'd almost felt them, felt as if they were in reach. But then only to vanish like snow melting in the sun. The effect had only been temporarily. The moment he concentrated on holding the feeling, it vanished as if it had never been. And Skar was himself again, and again in doubt and confusion.

If only he knew how to consciously tap into the Force - how to make it unfold. Then he would know his purpose.

Hours went by soaked in alcohol and confusion. The man went on forever, talking about goals in life and religions, going over all the religions he knew and explaining them in great detail. And all though it had been all that filled his mind only hours earlier, the consumption of alcohol and the lateness of the hour took away all interest. Skar cared for none of them, except when the man said words like "Force" or "Jedi". Skar began to feel bored but didn't say it to the man. He was tired and wanted to sleep. But the man just wouldn't stop talking.

"The Jedi were highly revered through the time of the Republic. People sought to them for answers and help. Everyone thought that they knew the answer to everything, because they could tap into their energy, an energy only linked to them," the man smiled, "while you may think they were just magicians, you have to remember you have some of them in you. And that you too have a purpose in life - "

"Enough," Skar groaned wearily, trying to break free of the stupor. Skar found himself bombarded with responsibility worse than anything he had ever had to endure. The man seemed to love giving dramatic, not to mention long, speeches, but this time he was just irritating.

It was too much and he was too drunk. "Look, its not that I don't appreciate you sharing what you know, but its late. I'm tired, I've had too much too drink - I can't think straight anymore. I gotta be getting home."

"Home to what?" the man asked casually.

"Home to - " Skar looked at the man and saw mischief there. Did he know? Did he know about Lwen and that he didn't really want to go home? "I just…"

"Of course you do," the man smiled, sipping the last of the ale into his mouth, wiping it off with his sleeve. "And I'm not offended. All I'm trying to teach you is life is grand. Life is not measured in the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away. Listen to your heart when something sounds right and you'll be alright."

Skar looked at the wise stranger. "My heart, huh?"

When they left the One-Legged Rancor late in the night, yet early in the morning, Nar Shaddaa seemed to have woken up by a smaller margin. Small, as well as larger, ships were visible in the overhanging dark sky, drifting carelessly, but there still wasn't any sign of the usual bustling activity as present in the daytime. A few light fixtures illuminated the street outside the bar. Skar tried through all his drunkenness to be careful and to spy for any muggers, but the alleys were too dark and the visibility was not in his favor. His feet shifted consistently and he wallowed back and forth.

The Jedi-expert, as Skar began to think of him, came walking out casually behind him, calmly wrapping his heavy coat around him. The man scratched his beard and didn't even look up from adjusting his boots to inspect the alleys and streets. He just took in the air and said, "no danger."

Skar lifted an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I've never been mugged."

Skar raised his arms in drunken fury. "Well, I have! Its not fun!"

The man laughed. "Skar, go home." The mystery man pointed down the opposite street. "I'm going that way."

Skar nodded, but felt something pulling at him. "Will I see you again?" Skar asked, "I need to talk to you. You know more than me. You can help me."

The man was silent for a few seconds, contemplating. "You're serious about the Jedi life?"

Skar's eyes widened. He thought it was obvious. "Wouldn't you be? If you had it in you, wouldn't you want to know what it's all about?"'

The man's eyes shifted, unfocused, they were looking somewhere beyond the space around them, perhaps peering into the past. "I've made that choice long ago. And I don't regret it." The man nodded a farewell gesture. "I'll find you again. Then I'll tell you more about the Force. Until then, may destiny be in your favor."

The man turned and left as mysteriously as he had entered Skar's life. Skar wanted to yell at him or shout goodbye, but the realization that the man had left came too late. Disappointed and feeling deserted, Skar spat on the street before choosing to go home. Skar made his way the fastest way he knew to the lift that would take him back up to his level. The alcohol made it difficult for him since his feet seemed to have a will of their own, forcing him off course but after tumbling over a couple of times he made it to the lift.

He touched the switch and the lift rose through the lowest levels of Nar Shaddaa. I wonder who he was. I've never met anyone besides Lwen who knows anything about Jedi. But this guy seemed to know more than even Lwen. Skar realized he was starting to fall asleep while standing up, and slapped his cheek to wake up. His face felt warm and every time he concentrated on one thing, something else took over. He felt slightly euphoric, light and yet heavy in his gut. Lwen will kill me for getting home this late.

The lift chimed and the doors slid open. The streets were marginally cleaner on the higher levels, but still not close to being hygienic, not by human standards anyway. And the streets on this level were homes for beggars whose outreached hands pleaded for him to stop, so they could make him feel guilty, and charitable, by telling him sob-stories about their lost families or dead children.

Skar had learned to ignore the comments, realizing even if he wanted to donate money to the poor, he didn't have any on him. Infact he may have been much poorer than them. Nar Shaddaa had that influence on him as well as everyone else he knew. The untold rules of surviving Nar Shaddaa revolved around acting poor and to look as non-wealthy as possible. Skar fit that profile well, he figured.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection an a nearby window and scowled at what he saw there. A disheveled ragged boy with filthy hair, slick with day old sweat and grease, long due for a wash. Sleeves way too long for his gangly arms. Shoes that fell off after five steps if he didn't remind himself to put his heel down right. Baggy pants which only kept him decent because of a homemade belt.

All of his clothes were leftovers from Lwen's wardrobe, things Lwen couldn't fit anymore. It never bothered Skar, he wasn't used to luxury or high standards. He was just happy to have lived, or maybe survived was more accurate, this long. Not many people lasted as long as he had on Nar Shaddaa. And the whole act of pretending to be poor wasn't that difficult for him. He was just fed up with knowing it wasn't an act.

It was the truth.

His thoughts of poverty drowned out in his weary mind and he continued to obsess about the mysterious stranger in the bar. He'd been boring to listen to, Skar blamed that on his need for sleep and the alcohol, but his points had gotten through. He may have been schooled to learn about Jedi, he must have been educated, but where and why does one educate oneself in an extinct race like the Jedi? He didn't look like a teacher, not that I've ever seen one. He was too… rough. Too rough around the edges. He seemed like someone who'd seen the greater things in life, and the lowest of its terrors. Someone who had seen it all. Someone who'd stared death in the eyes and spit in its face. He was so cool and precise.

Skar began to realize he wasn't just thinking about the man, he was idolizing. I won't deny, I wish I could seem as confident and secure as he did. Instead of having to live with fear, and hiding behind poverty. Skar pieced more bits of the puzzle together. He was armed, he had a blaster. He must be used to combat, and that's not how a teacher or a student lives. If he carried a weapon he must have been a mercenary or a bodyguard. Probably a bounty hunter.

Skar wanted the impression on others that the man had on him. Strike confidence as well as fear in those who would oppose him. It was all a projection, he was just seeing things in others that he wanted to have himself. The man seemed so in control on the outside, but like any other he could have been hiding his feelings and problems beneath a cover of false confidence. The man possessed the confidence that Skar hoped to one day own. To have experience in his possession and be able to use that knowledge in his future days. To have seen most of the world, the worst of the world, and still find some reason to go on fighting.

Skar had heard the man lecture on aspects of life such as the meaning of life and the goals in one's life. But to Skar they were the same and he agreed with the man that one person's mission or goal in life didn't have to be the same of another man. Each individual was born with their own destiny, and the meaning of life was not universal, but individual.

Skar looked at the beggars at his feet and the others scouring in the corners, begging for food or credits. What was their purpose? Were they without destiny? And if they weren't, why did their fate seem to involve living on the street?

What is my purpose? What is my destiny? Am I part of the mystery man's mission?

Or is the mystery man part of my -

A fist came flying out of nowhere and punched Skar's stomach in. He went down like a heavy bag and struggled for air. The second fist to his side relieved him of all the alcohol he'd drunk on the face of the street. He tasted vomit all the way down his throat and heaved again.

As he tried to lift himself up to fight back, a punch came down on his jaw, permanently flattening him on the street and coloring the pavement in a crimson red.

Skar clung his arms to the pit of his stomach, thinking he could somehow make the pain go away if he held onto where it hurt the most. He wiped blood from his mouth with a free hand and saw two aliens standing over him, rubbing blood from their knuckles. The same aliens from the bar, as he had already guessed. The third, the Sakval he had threatened with the lightsaber, came up between them with a vicious smile.

"I smash your teeth, then feed them to you."

The alien kept his promise. He kicked Skar's face in with his boot. The pain was staggering, ripping at his entire being and invaded his mind with razor sharp aches and thundering agony. At first the pain was slow, but gradually it filled his mind. It filled his brain, making him think it would burst. Skar rolled over and spat the blood away from running into his mouth. Then the Sakval kicked again with his blooddrenched boot. The pain had doubled in intensity now. His mind was expecting the same pain from the first kick, but it was stronger now, harder, and more direct. The pain shot straight through him, filling him with inner torment.

The two other aliens, his mind couldn't catalogue them anymore, joined in. One of them pulled him up while the other two took turns in kicking and punching him repeatedly. Between punches, Skar caught a glimpse of his lightsaber lying behind the aliens on the street. It must have fallen from his belt.

When they took a breather from the beating, his eyes held it strong, not letting it out of sight, though the tears had blurred up its image. He could feel the weapon, its sense in his head, and in his hand. It was as if he held it already, as if it wasn't out of reach. The amount of pain broke him, causing his mind to forget the lightsaber ever existed and concentrated on nothing but pain. He couldn't focus his thoughts or his senses. Everything was disorientated.

Everything was pain.

All he could feel, was the pain filling his every being. Even as the pain began to dim with the rest of the world, he started wishing he would die a quick death, but realized he wouldn't be that lucky. Skar tried to scream but no air came to his lungs and he realized it might never enter his lungs again.

The beating slowed down but not because of lack of interest; the aliens were simply worn out from mutilating him. They left him lying on the ground, bleeding and crying, while they stood back, congratulating each other and padded each other on the shoulder, the way co-workers did when they'd performed good teamwork. The Sakval he'd threatened in the bar broke the bond and walked over to Skar to let off one last punch that smashed Skar's head down into the street.

The others cheered.

Skar spat more blood from his mouth and his eyes watered up in tears.

I don't want to die!

Cold wind rushed through him and his body quivered. Suddenly a familiar metallic object appeared from somewhere and slammed into his palm. Skar looked down to see the lightsaber inside his hand. But getting the lightsaber quickly revealed itself to be the easiest part, now he needed only the hardest part.

You're worried you won't be able to pull the trigger when the time comes?

But before he even got that far to pose a threat to them, the aliens saw the weapon in his hand and the beating continued. One of the aliens grabbed the lightsaber from his hand in the confusion and tossed it down the alley, clearly not interested in it.

Muffled voices, blurred faces and constant pain was all there was for a long time. He caught fragments of their words and glimpses of their faces, but nothing more. Skar began to delve inside the pain, hoping he would find peace there.

"…that weapon…what was that?… "

He heard a laughter, thinking it would be the last sound he would ever hear.

"…an antique… "

And the punch came, that sent him into the darkest sleep he'd ever had in his life.

The shadow man was lost in his own thoughts, contemplating his next move when he felt the pain coming from Skar. His boots came to a halt in the alleyway and he turned around to face where he'd come from. He could feel the boy in that direction, could feel his fear. Distinct but very alive.

I don't want to die!

The shadow man leapt off the street and launched himself five stories onto the nearest roof, and from there up to the next, passing through many levels of Coruscant, searching out the boy through his pain.

Out of the darkness came hopelessness and with it surrender. He awoke hazily and memories slowly crept back into his mind, and when they did he wished he'd stayed asleep. He didn't know how long he had slept. It felt like forever. Pain had engulfed his every single bone, muscle and thought. Even opening his mouth to vent the feeling, made him ache a hundred times more. The hurt hummed like a lightsaber with every breath he took. He tasted blood. It filled the inside of his mouth and he tried his best to cough it out, so he wouldn't drown, though wishing he hadn't since each cough felt like a knife-stab into his side.

Voices were chuckling at his misery not too far away, and Skar almost found enough strength to hate them for it.

"Shouldn't we tie him up?"

"Nah, he's useless without his lightsaber."

Their voices were lost when a ringing in his ears drowned them out. For moments it was all he could hear, beside his internal screaming and cursing. His eyes were fighting to open, but pain never allowed him to open more than a slit, which wasn't nearly enough. Darkness was clouding inside his eyelids and small stars moved around like swarming flies inside his head.

I'm…dying.

He felt like it, he tried to move his hand, but couldn't tell if it was working, it had no feeling. The sensation reminded him of being trapped, of being tied down and unable to move.

Then, a whisper.

The hell you are.

Skar couldn't see him, but he knew the voice. He finally got his eyes opened, but was crestfallen to see only the three aliens, leaning against the alley-wall, apparently waiting for something. It was still night. He couldn't have been passed out for more than a couple of hours, maybe only minutes. Skar looked for the voice of the man he'd heard inside his head but he was nowhere near. Skar was alone with the aliens. He anticipated more beatings soon enough and his only prayer was that this time they would get it right, and that he would die.

He saw the furred Sakval leaning over him, the alien pulled him up by his collar, preparing to land a punch in his face. And Skar closed his eyes, not wanting to see the punch come, wishing only for it to end.

But the punch never landed.

"Why are you boys out looking for trouble?"

Skar reopened his eyes, ignoring the stabbing pain, to see the man standing in an alley leading into the street he was lying on. A hope bloomed inside Skar at the sight of the man's face, radiating smug confidence. His coat was open and the blaster was in plain sight. Skar took notice that none of the aliens had blasters. The aliens walked away from Skar and started to gang up on the man.

"You!" the Sakval seemed to recognize him.

The man calmly spread his feet apart, striking a warrior's stance, his one boot sinking down into a puddle. A grin darkened his face. "A wise man once taught me a very good lesson," he reached inside the darkness of his coat's fold and retrieved a short metallic handle. "If you keep seeking," the handle hissed to life in a long blue shaft that hummed with intensity, "you will find."

The aliens roared in unison and charged forward, their claws ready to rip the man apart. The Jedi hunched down, as if to gather strength, before leaping high above the aliens, kicking off the shoulder of one to give him more elevation. Skar admitted he was faint but he could have sworn that Jedi stayed in the air for tens of seconds. It seemed to take forever before gravity noticed his defiance.

In the air he raised the lightsaber above his head, smashing it down through the alien that was furthest from where he'd jumped as he touched down, bisecting the alien straight down the middle from head to groin. But even before the alien had begun to fall, the Jedi swirled on his kneecap executing a perfect horizontal slash behind him, leaving the alien in four smoking pieces that tumbled like cards in the wind.

The Jedi faced the remaining aliens, his face like stone as he slowly held out his free hand to wave them forward, challenging them.

Beyond all sense, the aliens accepted the challenge. The remainder of the battle was all a blur. It was the first time he watched a Jedi yield a lightsaber in real life, and Skar began to understand the complexity of the movements, but also the perfection of it. It seemed the Jedi already knew what the attackers would do, before they even knew. The Jedi was calm, cool, and precise. His strategy relied only on letting his enemies come to him, where he would have the advantage. His movements were so fast that Skar couldn't keep track of him in the blur of the fight.

Only a blue light stuck out in all the chaos, lit the clearing in its gloom, a light that disembodied limbs and produced smoking wounds on alien flesh.

The Jedi Knight came leaping out of the fight and Skar was surprised to see that the two aliens were still breathing. One of them, the Sakval, had a burning wound where his right arm once had been. The other held his paw against the pit of his stomach to stop the burning flesh from hurting.

But Skar was too mesmerized by the Jedi's performance to feel horrified by their wounds. His blue eyes were determined and unafraid, burning with resolution and confidence. He had no wounds at all and looked unaffected, though by Skar's opinion he should have been worn down and out of breath.

Skar also began to realize the Jedi was toying with the aliens. There was an air of enjoyment to the Jedi's playful moves and the fact that he did not kill when he could. His blade hovered at his side, and he just waited for them to come within reach.

The two remaining aliens were still fearless and lunged for him. The man sidestepped to the right as the closest ran past him and drove his lightsaber though flesh, muscles and bones. With a finishing swipe the screaming alien had his spine severed by flaming blue light.

The last alien, the Sakval, roared in rage and came at him with the claws on its remaining arm. The man swirled to his left and struck with a wide clean cut across the belly of the Sakval as it reached him, finishing off the cut with a vertical up-to-down slice, cleaving the alien's only remaining arm at the shoulder. The bloodied arm fell to the ground smoking with burnt fur.

The alien was on its knees, roaring horridly in pain and partly in anger. Though it could have been just a mercy kill, the Jedi showed no sympathy as he completed his swirl and decapitated the alien with one powerful swing of the blue blade, cleaving through neck-tissue. The alien's head bounced off the street a few times before rolling into a puddle of rain. The alley stank of burnt hair.

The man cleared away the lightsaber and walked calm as ever over to Skar. The man brushed back the dark hair in his face and helped Skar stand. "Can you walk?"

Skar nodded slowly, careful not to overuse the sore muscles in his neck. His skeleton felt like it had been thrown off a skyscraper. "You - you're a Jedi too?"

The next minutes passed without words as the Jedi healed Skar's body using the Force. Skar's body recovered thanks to the treatment though his limbs were still sore and it ached when he moved too quickly. It only empowered Skar's theory that there were more abilities than psychometry and telekinesis, healing became a gift Skar hoped he would learn someday. It only matched his desire to help people through his heritage.

All the time while the Jedi treated him, Skar caught glimpses of his lightsaber under the Jedi's coat and he had to admit it didn't look as fancy as his own. It looked like a common tool, like a wrench, it had no symbols or markings like his and the mystery grew thicker as Skar's theory of all Jedi lightsabers being marked was destroyed.

The Jedi noticed his curious look. "What's the matter?"

Skar talked slowly to not invite any pain to his jaw. "Your lightsaber. It doesn't look like mine. I know each Jedi makes his own to fit him, but yours has no markings."

The Jedi looked contemplative as he finished up mending Skar's wounds. "Not all Jedi have markings on their lightsaber. Myself, I don't care for it. A lightsaber is a tool for self-defense, not to show off."

The treatment was over and Skar felt like a new man. The Jedi Knight helped him up and Skar, filled with morbid curiosity, walked carefully over to one of the corpses and bowed down to look at it. He should have been repulsed but something inside him kept him eager, something told him he would see a lot of blood and fighting if the future he wanted should come true. He saw dark blood leaking from the alien's stomach and only then noticed that the street around him had puddles of dark fluid that wasn't rain, it was blood.

Skar closed his eyes and tried to make sense of it all. "A Jedi kills only in self-defense, but you were never in any danger. These weren't a threat to you."

"They were a threat to you." The man shrugged. "A Jedi is also supposed to help the innocent."

"I know. In the days of the Republic, they were protectors of the people." Skar rose. "The Republic is dead now. I'm not important to you. You hardly know me."

The man's blue eyes narrowed. "I know you better than you think. And I had good reason to help you."

Skar turned to him. "What?"

The man peered into the sky. "The Republic is dead. Dead and buried. That doesn't make me wanna give up. It makes me work harder."

"But you're just one man?" Saying it Skar realized he was repeating Lwen from earlier and suddenly understood what Lwen had been trying to say. He wished he could take back the question because he already knew what the man would say.

"What do you want me to do? Lay down and die, Skar? I may only be one, but I can still make a difference. I can still help people. There's no peace in death, Skar. A man who lives his life without reaching his goal is a fool."

Skar nodded. The difference between them was that this man was skilled and trained enough so that his abilities might actually help, whereas Skar's were still undeveloped. "And what is your goal?"

The man didn't take a second to think about it. "Order."

Skar's head couldn't keep up. Even though he admired and respected the Jedi, even idolized him, something just didn't fit in with his perspective.

Skar's hand pointed out the carnage of bodies and blood on the street behind him. "How is this order? How is this respectable or honorable in any way? How is this glorious? Why is murder order?"

The man shrugged uneasily. "You don't have enough experience to see it yet."

Skar wasn't going to let him get away that easy. "Don't give me that."

Scoffing, the Jedi turned his back to Skar and clipped the lightsaber from his belt. He stared at it, as if it somehow held the answer. "This, it has saved my life many times. But as many times as it has saved my life, as many times has it taken it from others. It wasn't easy for me the first time I killed someone. The first time was the worst. To know that you'd just taken a life. That you'd decided that your own life mattered more than someone else. That you saw yourself as more important in the grander scheme of things than the one you killed." The Jedi sighed and clipped the lightsaber back on his belt. "When I take a life, its always in self-defense and in protection of the innocent. With each life I take, I'm saving another, or maybe two others. Its not easy to know where its right and where its wrong, but the will to survive is so strong that moral never becomes a problem. You forget about the sin." The man smiled. "You can't exactly reason with guys like that, or appeal to their good nature. Self-preservation is the key."

It made sense. Staring Death in the eyes made it clear that you'd have to act if you didn't want to get swallowed by it. Preservation; that was a key Skar had overlooked. To kill was not evil in self-defense or in defense of others. And as wrong as it sounded, neither was murder. The moment you took a life in defense, it wasn't killing, it wasn't murder; it was survival and that was never wrong.

Skar looked over the corpses and felt guilty. The Jedi stranger had just saved his life, and he was questioning his actions? Skar felt ashamed. "I'm sorry about judging you. I just… don't like killing." Skar looked him in the eyes. "Thank you for saving me."

The Jedi sat down where Skar had been beaten, leaning up against the wall, looking strung out from explaining what was clearly not easy for him to talk about. "No problem."

Skar continued. "You're a hero."

The Jedi held out his palms. "Stop, okay?" He smiled after that. "In my line of work, if you want to live, you're gonna have to fight for it."

"I guess it does," Skar said timidly.

Skar found himself being convinced by the stranger's words. Skar hated it but the man was growing on him, he was very intelligent although his theories were out of experiences that Skar hadn't earned. So the codex he lived by didn't have to apply to Skar. Skar promised himself he would do his best to try and prove that killing wasn't always the answer. Reasoning with your attacker didn't sound like it was gonna work, but perhaps there was something that had been overlooked. Some way of ending conflict without bloodshed.

But right now, something gnawed at Skar that really needed an answer. "Hey. What's your name anyway?"

The man raised his head and smiled. He then walked over to the corpse with the severed head. "Names don't matter in my field of business. I only know a handful of people, so I've never had to introduce myself much. But those people who I value, and I think you just joined that club, call me Kayupa."

"Kayupa," Skar said to himself. He didn't know why but somehow the Jedi had clicked something inside Skar's head, and he realized it had ever since back in the bar. Maybe because he looks so much like what I imagined a Jedi to be. And he acts the way a Jedi should act. He's perfect. Skar's sub-consciousness noticed that Kayupa hadn't called him "kid" like he'd done before. "Kayupa. Is that your real name?"

Kayupa shook his head and picked up something from the corpse. He held it up to the light and Skar saw that it was an identification card. "I have no name. No one ever named me. My parents abandoned me. I've named myself."

Skar wanted to ask more, but he heard voices nearby. Kayupa heard them too. He crossed over to Skar and grabbed hold of his shoulders. "We don't have much time. You don't belong here in this place. You belong with me. If you want to become a Jedi, now is your only chance."

"I don't know if I'm ready."

Kayupa understood that but didn't give up. "Everything begins with a choice, Skar. The strength comes later. But you must choose now. If you choose not to, I'm gone. I leave tonight." Kayupa stepped forward and Skar's lightsaber came flying from the shadows into Kayupa's hand; he offered it to Skar. "I'm going somewhere, Skar. Come with me."

Skar's fingers were nervously shaking and his skin felt cold. Somewhere deep inside him he'd been waited for something like this moment to happen. To see other worlds, to visit strange places, experience all the Galaxy had to offer and had hidden from him so far. In his mind it had always been his father that had come to get him and take him away on some great adventure, not a complete stranger.

Nevertheless it was what he wanted. He couldn't abandon this knowledge, people had gone to great lengths and sacrifices to make sure he became a Jedi, that he took it upon himself this responsibility of pursuing an order that had been forgotten by normal people.

To be a Jedi was his destiny. He had to follow it. Even if it meant coming to terms with taking lives in the name of order and justice. The thought of the possibilities fed though him and powered his ego. This energy protected him. It became like a protective bubble. It reminded him of the sensation on the bridge.

And Skar knew that was a good sign. The Jedi's Force. It felt warm around his heart and it regained his strength. It made him strong. It made him brave.

Skar reached out and plucked the lightsaber from Kayupa's hand. "I'll go with you."

"I'll contact you later. I'll know where to find you." Kayupa padded him on the shoulder and began to walk away.

"Kayupa?"

The stranger, who now would become perhaps the most important person in his life and future, turned and looked at Skar.

"Thank you."

Kayupa smiled and waved it off. "Think nothing of it, you have work to do. Your life as a Jedi has just begun."

Skar dreaded going back home, he hadn't been home in almost a day and a half and was afraid of what he might find when he came home. If Lwen hadn't come to his senses, who was to tell what might have happened.

Skar wiped his face with his sleeve and stepped in. Off-hand his home seemed unchanged, the living room still looked like a mess, after Lwen had kicked the table to the other end and one of the chairs were knocked over.

But there was no sign of Lwen.

Skar lifted the chair and pulled the table back to its place, then he looked in Lwen's room and then his own, but the old man was not home. There was a blaster in the home, so if Lwen had contemplated suicide, he wouldn't have had to leave the apartment. He could have done it right here.

Skar searched the desk and the blaster was still there. He checked the cartridge and was relieved to find that it was still at full charge. No shots had been fired. Skar allowed himself a little smile when he figured out that if Lwen had committed suicide he wouldn't have been able to put it back in the drawer afterwards.

Skar turned around and walked to the kitchen -

He flinched at what he found. The kitchen was completely torn apart. A fight had taken place there. Utensils were scattered all over the floor, and a knife was carved into the wall. Pans laid here and there, dishes were shattered and ruined. One of the cabinets had been flung from the wall and now cradled in a pool of blood. The blood waved back and forth as the utensils floated across the surface like tiny ships. Shards of glasses laid about like small traps, and a pair of footprints were painted with blood and led to the window, which had been crashed through from the outside.

Skar bit his lower lip. Lwen was gone. Maybe not dead, but certainly in trouble. He sat down by the blood and as curious as a child, he played with it. Through psychometry he gained information about the blood, he could feel the thoughts of the person who had shed the blood. Skar even learned that the person who had shed the blood had also died from the cut. And the most important fact; it wasn't Lwen's blood.

He smeared the blood over his pants, drying it off. He walked over the blood puddle and looked out the window. Bloodied footprints on the stairwell had not yet been washed away by the rain, so it had happened recently.

Skar cursed. Lwen couldn't have disappeared at a worse time. Kayupa had promised to take him away from Nar Shaddaa. They'd finally found a way for them to get out of here.

A thought dawned on him. If they were thieves why did they take him with them? Lwen was right about one thing, he isn't much here on Nar Shaddaa. Those guys on the bridge yesterday, they could have followed me.

And they took him to get to the Jedi.

To me.

Skar held the lightsaber close and stepped back into the living room. From there he made it into his own room, and packed a bag with clothes. His hands moved fast, he had to get out of there before someone came back looking for him. Out of the corner of his eyes Skar caught a glance of himself in the mirror. A split lip. One of his eyes was puffed. He went back to the kitchen and splashed water in his face, washing away the dried blood.

I'm not leaving Lwen behind. He's coming with me.

With overcautious steps he made it out the front door, and hurried up the flight of stairs, past his own apartment and all the way to the roof. From there he had spent many nights staring at the stars glistening brightly above, and watched ships darting across space, hoping for a better world for himself but something told him there wasn't gonna be time for watching stars and ships now.

Behind him he spotted no one following him, but knew that didn't mean there weren't anyone there. Skar jumped the last set of stairs to get there faster but it only propelled him facedown in a rain puddle on the roof. Embarrassed by his own clumsiness, he raised himself on his hands, rain pouring off his face. His chest was soaked and the feeling of embarrasment sat well. Skar rose and reached for his lightsaber to check if it had gotten wet and corrupted, but it seemed fine.

"You know, pulling it out like that is what got your uncle kidnapped."

Startled by the voice Skar clipped the lightsaber from his belt as fast as he could and held it ready. Skar was relieved to see the voice belonged to Kayupa. The gritty Jedi had his hands on his hips and smiled.

Replacing the lightsaber in his belt, Skar wandered forward. "How did you know? What are you doing here?"

Kayupa waved him forth and they walked across the roof. Skar felt relieved that Kayupa was by his side again, to guide him. "It was the same guys from the bridge. They followed you home afterwards and when they couldn't get you, they took Lwen."

Skar tried to swallow the huge lump in his throat. "Is he dead?"

"They carried him out of there sedated, and carried one of their own out with a utensil stuck in his temple. Your uncle sure put up a fight."

Skar felt fairly proud of his uncle. "Sounds like him. You saw all this and didn't help him?"

"Not me, I was with you when it happened, but," Kayupa held out his arm to indicate a third person, dressed in hood and a black cloak, standing at the ledge of the roof, "he did."

Skar shuddered in surprise, he hadn't noticed the third person before. "Who is he?"

Kayupa seemed to think the question over for a long time. "He's a lot of things, but most importantly he's the answer to all the hopes you carry around inside your heart. He's the answer to all the questions you've never been able to answer."

Skar looked at Kayupa and back at the man. He felt his heart beating very fast.

"Go to him."

Reluctantly Skar took heavy steps to the edge of the roof where the cloaked man awaited him. Each step felt like a million, and he felt the rain washing coldly down his face. Skar didn't know what to expect, but he still made sure his lightsaber was within reach. He felt very uneasy and although he wanted to trust Kayupa, he admitted to himself that he really didn't know either of the two.

The third man's cloak waved in the air behind him like wings. Skar stood three feet from him and could still not see his face. The man's hands were hidden under the long sleeves of his black cloak. Skar had only seen religious folk and people who had something to hide wear that kind of cloak.

If Kayupa had taken him to a monk so he could learn about religion now, he could forget it. There were more important things to do. Lwen was kidnapped and Skar's patience was wearing out. "If we're gonna talk, lose the hood. I need to know who I'm talking to."

Without hesitation, the man pulled back his hood to reveal himself.

Skar took two steps back in terror.

The man was really an alien, a Kel Dor; a formidable race of humanoids belonging to the planet Dorin, located in the Expansion Region. They evolved breathing an unusual mixture of gases that lived in the Dorin atmosphere, and they couldn't survive on oxygen-rich worlds. Being away from Dorin required them to wear goggles and an anti-oxygen mask to filter out oxygen. The Kel Dor standing in front of him had yellow, pasty, almost dead skin and the Kel Dor's tall skull rose into a small crest.

A few long gushes had become scars on one side of the face, making its appearance look even more hideous. Skar could hear its breathing now, it sounded restrained, like the alien had trouble breathing, which led him to believe the device helped the alien breathe but maybe wasn't enough.

The distasteful appearance of the scars and the metal appendages made the alien look horrible. Yet its stance, hands folded neatly at the back, gave the creature a certain stoic, almost regal, posture. The black cloak folded around him, waving gracefully on the flow of the light breeze.

"You wanted to see my face?" the alien spoke in pure Basic, though filtered through the breathing mask.

Skar felt shame climbing through his guts. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

The Kel Dor laughed aloud, a hidious croaking sound. "It is better to be a hypocrite and know it than the other way around. My name is Bo-Hi Dzog. I regret to have startled you."

"Who are you? Why didn't you save my uncle?"

Bo-Hi crossed his arms over his chest. "The answer would be the same if I asked you how you knew to come up on the roof. None of us called for you. You didn't know we were here."

Skar tried to remember when he'd decided to go for the roof. He'd thought it'd be safer than down on the streets. He never felt safe down there. "It…felt like the right thing to do?"

Bo-Hi nodded stately. "There's your answer."

Skar wasn't sure he liked that answer, how could leaving Lwen in the hands of murderers be the right thing to do? "Are you a friend of Kayupa?"

Bo-Hi peered over Skar's shoulder at Kayupa who was staring out over the city. The Jedi Knight was scouting the distances and the Force. "Friend? I have never thought of it that way, but yes, we have a friendship. We have differences too, but our bond is that of trust."

"How did you two meet?"

Bo-Hi started approaching him, eyeing him up and down, sizing him up it seemed. "We are prisoners of war."

"What?"

The Kel Dor started circling Skar, looking him over as he spoke. "Only our battle is fought not only from without, but also within."

Skar followed Bo-Hi as the alien walked around him. "I don't get what you're saying."

"When I first met Kayupa, he was robbed of foundation. He was impulsive and reckless. He saw only things his way and that way is always simple. He is one of the most complicated men I've ever met. I try to help him stray from that recklessness."

Skar snorted. "So, you're like his morality guide or what?"

The alien nodded, clearly not amused by Skar's attempt at a taunt. "Kayupa, like all humans, is a strange creature. He cannot remake himself without suffering for he is both the marble and the sculptor." Bo-Hi finally stopped, facing Skar. The alien spoke in Basic as it had done before, but now with greater emphasis. "I am his Jedi Master."

Skar gasped, and in the back of his head he remembered something Lwen had once said; When you are walking through the rain, do not wince from it. Do not hide your head. Accept it. The lesson in that was that you could never ignore what's plainly right in front of you. Though Skar found what he had just been told impossible. His feelings were a mixed blend of joy and denial.

"But…there are no Jedi Masters left. They're all dead. Along with all the other Jedi."

The Jedi Master rose his clawed hand and gestured to Kayupa. "He does not look dead," Bo-Hi cackled, "and my throat is a little sore, but I am still breathing."

Skar scratched his head. "I don't believe it. I always thought I was the last one? My mother was a Jedi, she died in the Purge, but she was under the assumption that I was the very last one."

Master Bo-Hi nodded and started to walk around him. "That she was, I am sure. She never learned that a few were able to slip away."

Skar felt amazed. "How?" A part of him hoped that maybe that meant his father, or his mother, maybe even both, were still alive somehow.

However the Master gave him no real answer. "We have been waiting for this moment, Skar."

His guts shriveled. "You know my name?"

The Jedi Master nodded. "I know much about you. As much as Kayupa and then some."

"How did you find me?"

"The Force led us here."

Skar found hope starting to spark again. "You came looking for me?"

The Jedi Master gave a smile that Skar couldn't interpret. "In a way."

"What do you mean?"

The Jedi Master moved out a clawed hand from inside the cloak and pointed at Skar's hip. "That weapon…gives you away." The hand retreated back inside the cloak. "I've seen that weapon before. In the hands of a man who resembled you greatly. But I dare not think you'd carry his burden."

Skar's fingers touched the lightsaber. "Skind Kjoil - you knew my uncle!"

The answer never came. A blaring warning siren went off in his head, as it had done some hours ago before he was mugged by the aliens from the bar. Only this time he understood. Skar never hesitated as he threw himself on the wet roof. A red blasterbolt burned through the air where Skar had been standing a microsecond before. It flew past Master Bo-Hi, and killed a mercenary on the roof of the building across the street. Kayupa came running up to Skar and pulled him up. The barrel of his blaster was still smoking.

Skar brushed himself off. "Thanks for the warning."

Kayupa smiled smugly. "I'm a hero, remember?" Kayupa looked to the Jedi Master, his Jedi Master. "Time to leave."

The Jedi Master gathered his cloak around him and pulled up his hood. "Get Skar to the Koniduz."

Skar looked to Master Bo-Hi for an explanation.

"We can't stay here, Skar. You must come with us. We will take you to your uncle. Come, we have a ship nearby."

The Koniduz turned out to be a sleek, crimson-painted personnel carrier. The red color gave it a certain lethal character, and the scoring and damage from previous combat underlined that it was a weapon that could defend itself if it needed to. And all though it was far from being the greatest ship Skar had ever seen, being used to seeing spaceships pass over his head everyday, he still thought it was pretty awesome. He hoped to one day have the chance to fly it himself, having never flown before, having never even been onboard a ship before.

The bridge's two seats were packed into a cramped little space and the second seat was positioned behind the pilot. From there the navigator plotted trajectories and hyperspace-travel while the pilot handled in-system flight and weapons.

The cargo space was originally intended to carry thirty soldiers, but for now it seemed to have redesigned into a living quarters. Crates with provisions were stacked high and bunks stood against each wall. Personal affects were placed under the bunks and Skar noticed scorches along the walls like blasts. Most of the inside of the ship seemed to have undergone crude repairs. The walls had marks of welding on them and several areas were patched up with materials no professional mechanic would use. Skar was excited to learn the ship had an onboard holographic simulator for training. A facility he anticipated to use to its fullest extent.

For now his concentration was based around Kayupa as the Jedi Knight piloted the ship on its repulsorlifts down deep into the shadows of Nar Shaddaa, deeper anyone cared to venture. With every level they left above them, Skar couldn't help the sinking feeling that they were on their way further down into a dark abyss. Life down there was primitive, creatures lived in the shadows and fed off the junk that came down from above. Carcasses of dead animals and humans laid rotting in the shadows and yellow eyes peeked from within the darkness.

Kayupa's piloting skills were as fearless as the man himself. He set the ship down perfectly in a clearing, a space devoid of obstructions and life, though Skar suspected it had once been a market plaza. Artificial light flashed over the area in patterns, and Skar felt safer since most creatures who lived in darkness were afraid of the light.

The heavy ramp rocked the whole ship as it touched ground and the three Jedi of different degrees and families, stepped onto hard soil.

Kayupa was the first to talk. "Master, the ones that attacked the apartment and the bridge were mercenaries who work for a weapon's dealer, a man called Sasori Dragus. He's the head of the Rancor League. They market in all kinds of weapons."

Skar looked over at Kayupa, surprised the man knew so much. Skar had of course heard about the Rancor League once or twice in his lifetime, but Kayupa was not accustomed here. How could he know? "Where did you hear that?"

Kayupa shrugged indifferently.

Skar looked at Master Bo-Hi for an answer, but the Jedi Master didn't say anything, so Skar glanced back at Kayupa. "Why were they after me?"

"We're not sure, yet."

"But they are the reason your uncle is missing, Skar," Master Bo-Hi ventured, "they're waiting for you to come looking for him."

Skar looked at them both. "So what do we do?"

Kayupa's lips slowly twitched before spreading out across his face in a smile. Kayupa looked happier than Skar had seen him before. "We come looking for him."

Back inside the cargo hold, Skar watched as an observer while Kayupa and Master Bo-Hi spoke to each other about the details of their plan to save Lwen. Skar started to notice how Kayupa had become a "student" in his eyes now. Skar, slightly ashamed to admit it, had been looking up to Kayupa, even more after seeing him display his lightsaber skills in the alley. But now Kayupa was his Master's student. Skar had never imagined Kayupa to be the kind to take orders from others, he had seemed too strong and self-reliant to be a grunt. But now Kayupa had been put down a notch. He was the obedient and trusted Jedi Knight to his Master.

The Jedi Master extruded a powerful presence, the image of strength and wisdom. Dignity. Somehow he just felt there. He contradicted Kayupa in so many ways. Kayupa gave the impression of having experience, but where Kayupa had experience, Master Bo-Hi had already seen everything that Kayupa was yet to see. Maybe that was the difference between a Master and a Knight. A Knight longed for more, while the Master knew the dangers the Knight would face. Master Bo-Hi was the pinnacle of knowledge and tutorage. Skar didn't know who he admired the most. Kayupa had all the rough sides and was great with the lightsaber, but Master Bo-Hi… he was just so stoic. Skar acknowledged that he was in the presence of great guides. And the feeling made him happy.

The bond between them was similar to that relationship Skar had with Lwen. A father-son situation. Kayupa said he'd lost his parents, or that he'd never known them, and Skar got the feeling that Master Bo-Hi had been the perfect substitute for the parents. Just like Lwen had been to him. Master Bo-Hi had said he'd never thought of Kayupa as a friend. Our bond is that of trust. Maybe he'd never thought of them as friends because their bond was so much deeper. To call it friendship would demean it.

The Jedi Master and his student were done talking and Master Bo-Hi went off to "meditate", as he'd called it. Kayupa pulled out a chest from under his bunk, and opened it. Inside Skar noticed clothes and a cloak. As Kayupa pulled off his heavy black coat and his skin-tight gray uniform, Skar noticed a long deep scar that ran down his back. The scar was old, the skin around it had turned purple and went from his left shoulder down to the right of his hip. "Where did you get that."

Kayupa guessed at what Skar was talking about. "Childhood memory."

Skar lifted his eyebrows. "Must've been some childhood."

Kayupa didn't talk for a while, he began to dress himself in a sand-brown tunic and matched it with a pair of pants. "Just because you had a childhood, doesn't mean you've ever been a child. I grew up pretty fast. I guess its the way the environment affects you."

"What environment?"

Kayupa pulled on dark boots and laid out his cloak. He tightened his belt and clipped his lightsaber on his right hip in clear vision. "I was born on Shalasha. Ever hear of that?"

Skar shook his head. He didn't know much about the outside world.

Kayupa sat down on his bunk. "Shalasha is a moon of the planet Jeter. The Jeterians are ruled by a strict leadership of royal families. There are groups of organizations, or families, who decide the fate of the people through their selfish goals."

The hangar, or living quarters, seemed very small to Skar all of a sudden. Kayupa's words seemed sad but still a part of him appeared to have accepted the truth about his past.

"Anyone who betrays the families are sentenced to live the rest of their lives on Shalasha. Its a prison. Shalasha is an uninhabitable desert moon. When I was there Shalasha was the home of some three hundred inmates. Male and female."

Skar listened carefully. "How did you survive? What about food?"

Kayupa's face lit up with a sadistic smile. "The Jeterian families like sports. So they supply food by drop-ship once a month to Shalasha. But there was only enough food to supply a fourth of the people imprisoned there. You can imagine how one stayed alive."

Skar swallowed hard. "They killed each other to stay alive, didn't they? That's why killing doesn't affect you that much. You've been doing it all your life. To stay alive."

Kayupa nodded.

"How old are you?"

Kayupa thought. "I guess…I'm not sure. Master Bo-Hi says I was about eight when he found me. That was thirteen years ago. So I guess I'm twenty, twenty-one."

Skar frowned.

"What?"

"That makes you only a couple of years older than me."

Kayupa shrugged. "So?"

Skar didn't know how to say what he thought. "Its just…I feel so young, and when I first saw you I thought you were much older. You looked older, like…someone who'd lived a long time. Someone who'd seen a lot. I guess I'm just bothered that we're almost the same age, but you seem to have experienced so much more than me."

Kayupa snorted. "Age doesn't always match experience. We're all affected by our pasts. Mine was just very brutal. There wasn't much time to be a child." Kayupa looked at Skar. "But the greater the difficulty, the greater reward."

"Why were you imprisoned?"

Kayupa stared at him. "I wasn't. I was born on Shalasha. My parents were imprisoned and they bore me into that life. That cell."

"You said you never met your parents?"

Kayupa nodded solemnly. "I didn't. They left me behind. Probably didn't think I could be of any use to them. Didn't think they would be able to feed me."

Skar lowered his head. "Or maybe they just thought that life on Shalasha wasn't fair on you, and hoped you wouldn't survive. So you wouldn't have to live like they did."

Kayupa didn't look at him. "No matter what they did, they were cowards. I hated them for a long time. Everyday I woke up to find someone lying beside me, dead of hunger. Everyday a few more of my friends were killed." Kayupa threw in a deep breath. "I'd wake up and look at Jeter hovering over my home, and I'd curse them all to death. And some other mornings I'd pray by the same planet that I would make it through the day." Kayupa crossed his arms. "It was not… a life, for anyone. It wasn't fair for someone who'd done nothing to deserve it."

Skar felt sorry for him, and it was somehow satisfying to see that Kayupa wasn't invincible. Skar had spotted that in the alley when talking about self-defense. Skar had first imagined Kayupa to be all strength. To be very private and secure only in himself. But when confronted by people he trusted, and he himself had chosen Skar to be one of those, he opened up completely and shared without holding back. Skar applauded him; he wasn't such an easy talker himself. Or he just didn't have much experience or past to talk about.

"What happened? How did you escape?"

Kayupa sat down on the metal floor and folded his arms around his knees. The man had never seemed more vulnerable. His dark brown hair fell down over his eyes and touched his knees. "One night there was a revolt against the drop-ship that supplied food. The guards held us back, we had only rocks to throw at them. One of the guards pinned me to the ground, while they offloaded the food. When they were done, the guard told me that riots were punishable by death, and he pointed his weapon at me." Kayupa lifted his head and smiled. "Then he appeared; Master Bo-Hi. He saved my life. He was my hero, and I owe everything to him."

"He said that you and him were prisoners of war? And that your war was fought not only from without but also within?"

Kayupa nodded. "That war is just him trying to describe where we came from and where we're going. There is a war going on in the Galaxy, and we have a responsibility. The battle within...is knowing we can't be everywhere at once. We have to pick our battles."

Skar rose from the bunk. "We seem to have come from the same kind of childhood."

Kayupa snorted. "Nar Shaddaa is an amusement park compared to Shalasha!"

Skar and Kayupa laughed together.

Later they sat outside at the edge of the loading ramp. Kayupa had provided food for them both in small bowls. Kayupa's long hair was combed back and tightened in a small brace, to keep it from falling into his food. The porridge was green but Skar didn't hesitate from grouching it down. He was too hungry. He didn't even care to taste it. In between spoons of porridge Skar told Kayupa about the dream he'd had a few nights before. The dream about the two Jedi fighting on a cliff and seeing his own demise.

"Do you think it means anything?"

Kayupa swallowed a portion of green goo. "Jedi do not dream. They either just sleep peacefully or they receive visions. But those visions only come if they can help you. The dream was a warning."

Skar didn't feel the slightest bit relieved. "I don't know what the warning is about." The rescue of Lwen still lingered in the future, and Skar longed to feel like he was doing something instead of just sitting around. Each minute that went, was another painful minute for Lwen. Maybe Lwen was already dead, and he had let him down. Skar shook his head, that couldn't be, the Jedi had told him he was alive.

Skar's head drifted in possibilities. "Is it the near future or the far distant future?"

Kayupa shrugged. "Ask the Force, I don't know."

Skar snickered, but turned serious again easily. "What about the last part? I saw my own death."

"I thought you said it wasn't you in the dream, that you saw it through someone else's eyes?"

Skar knew it hadn't been him, but the person had looked familiar. "I did. But I felt the pain, and I felt life leaving me."

Kayupa was silent for a while. "What was it like?"

Skar took himself a long and hard time to think of the best way to describe it, knowing he wouldn't come close to the precise description. "Well…imagine yourself being a cup of water. Then the water starts to drain slowly, and you feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper until you can't even remember your name or anything else. You don't know where you are, but you can still feel your heart beating. And as you feel the heart beating for the last time, you lose all awareness of life until there is nothing more but darkness."

Kayupa stared at Skar for a long time, then returned to eating. "Spooky. I think that the dream was nothing more than a warning of the dangers in the future. Its telling you to be more careful of your surroundings. And the fact that you're about to change your life drastically might have influenced the dream's outcome. You said you died. The old part of you died, and a new person, a man, stands on the other side." Kayupa's eyes scouted for his master in the distance, but Master Bo-Hi had not returned. Kayupa then peered awkwardly at Skar as if he had something on his mind. "You're going with us, you know that, right?"

Skar nodded. "Off Nar Shaddaa."

"Any regrets about that?"

Despite all that Lwen had given him, a home, safety, love, Skar didn't want to stay on Nar Shaddaa. He had to leave if he was to be a Jedi. He had to find out more about the Jedi. And Lwen must know that. Except for a lightsaber and a Holocron to teach him lightsaber-techniques, that he couldn't even use, he had nothing to lead him to becoming a full Jedi. Skar had once feared that he would live out his days on Nar Shaddaa and that thought was a fate worse than death to him. It was killing him to stay here any longer. Each breath felt borrowed.

It was as if his life hadn't really begun yet, like he was in some state of waiting before the real life began. Kayupa had been right. His life had just begun. To go with Kayupa and his Master would be a big step to becoming a Jedi. It was the sign he'd been waiting for.

Skar smiled and shook his head. "To me, staying here is the worst fate. My hopes for the future are all that make me accept this place; the hope of leaving."

Kayupa smiled. "Good, I was hoping you'd tag along. They say you should always remember where you came from but in our cases I would hope to forget all about it."

They both laughed and shared in feeling a lighter mood. Afterwards Kayupa set down his bowl and rose. He seemed to take in his surroundings and then pointed in a direction.

"Master Bo-Hi's coming back, and with good news."

"I was able to gather some more information about the Rancor League. They have a storage facility near the Dangieon Waller. That might be where they've taken your uncle Lwen." Master Bo-Hi tapped the keys on the hologram projector in the living quarters. A tall green detailed hologram of the storage facility came to life. 58 stories of weapons-storage. The facility itself was constructed in the shape of a V, two long structures veered out from a central structure that functioned as a loading bay.

That would be the entry point.

"The facility is not well guarded. Its protected only by a handful of mercenaries. 18 to be exact. They patrol through the facility at random intervals, but the building is also protected by sensors and all doors are sealed with metallic locks. Those can't be opened without an identification-card."

Skar looked at Kayupa. He'd taken such a card from the Sakval corpse in the alley. But how could he have known he would need it then? Had they planned to break into the storage facility before? Was it all just a coincidence?

As the briefing went on, Skar began to realize that Master Bo-Hi wasn't talking to him, but more directly at Kayupa. Skar wasn't being briefed, Kayupa was.

"I'm not going, am I?"

Kayupa padded his shoulder. "Its too dangerous for you. You don't have the skills."

"But he's my uncle!" Skar felt anger. "I'm not scared to - "

Master Bo-Hi turned the holo off. "We know how you feel, Skar. But this is how it must be if its to be successful."

"You're not ready for this sort of thing, kid," Kayupa said.

Those words stung where they could hurt the most. "Hey, I can use a lightsaber!"

"But can you wield it?" Master Bo-Hi asked.

"Well…yeah, sure I can!" Skar said enthusiastically, but only then began to wonder if he was right. "I mean…I've practiced."

"I don't want to have to start calling you Lefty or something like that because you cut your own hand off in an accident," Kayupa said, and his smile saved the statement from being an insult. "Kid, let us handle this for now."

Skar wanted to object, but knew they were right. "So I just stay here…alone?"

Kayupa looked at Master Bo-Hi with a smile. Then he glanced at Skar and walked over to his bunk. "Skar, the moment you joined us, the moment you chose to become a Jedi, you haven't been alone. We've been here to help you. And we'll stay with you. As dangerous as this time may seem you can count on us now to look out for you and to help you."

Kayupa pulled out the chest from under his bunk and Master Bo-Hi folded his hands behind his back. "Kayupa will go alone. He knows this sort of mission and can move around unseen. A greater party could not."

Skar frowned. "A stealth mission?"

"Some times results can be obtained without killing. That is a choice the Jedi has."

Skar passed his gaze from Master Bo-Hi to Kayupa. Dressed again in his tight gray uniform, but leaving the coat, he strapped on his blaster below his hip. Then the warrior tied a band of fabric around his forehead like a bandana, keeping his long hair from falling into his eyes. He fastened the knot in the back of his head and looked ready. Skar noticed that the lightsaber was not visible on him. Would he go without the lightsaber? Was that right for a Jedi to leave it behind? A blaster was the standard weapon of military and civilians in the Galaxy, it fired bursts of energy called bolts. Blasters came in varieties of shapes, delivering a wide range of damage capability. Many blasters had stun settings that incapacitated a target, rather than inflicting physical damage. While blasters could deliver a searing blast, they were useless against magnetic seals and shields. Skar lost an ounce of respect for Kayupa. It just didn't make sense. The lightsaber was a friend, an ally. Skar couldn't imagine leaving his lightsaber, ever. Favoring a blaster over a lightsaber seemed like sacrilege to Skar.

Kayupa's jaw tightened as if he was irritated about something. "I'm leaving the lightsaber. It might make too much noise. I have a silencer for the blaster." Kayupa combed back his hair and fixed it inside the bandana with his fingers. "I should get going. Every second spent here is another second of agony for Lwen."

Skar appreciated that concern, but still he didn't want Kayupa to leave. "You're going now?"

Kayupa only nodded, then bowed to his Master. "May the Force be with you."

Master Bo-Hi nodded back respectfully.

Kayupa turned and Skar felt sad seeing him go. He was off to risk life for Skar, and Skar couldn't help him or join him. Kayupa was almost at the bottom of the ramp, when Skar ran after him, feeling he had to say something.

But when he finally caught up with him, he didn't know what it was. "Wait! I…" Skar stumbled over his words, "I don't…"

Kayupa looked at him and his faithful eyes looked right down into Skar's soul. "This is the purpose of a Jedi. I accept it without regret."

Skar shook his head violently, sick of hearing stuff like that. "Don't talk like that. You… you saved me and now you're going to save my uncle, and you don't even take a second to think about it. That's - "

"A hero?" Kayupa smiled and looked up into the little light that fought its way down through the buildings around them. "Heroes always save the day. But even I have doubts about what will happen. There's a disturbance in the Force but I know you and Master Bo-Hi will be there in my mind." With heavy steps the warrior marched off into the darkness surrounding the ship.

Skar heard Master Bo-Hi coming up behind him, and turned around to face him. "Kayupa's…a great man."

Master Bo-Hi nodded. "There's no one more fitted to save your uncle."

"I wish I was going with him."

"You'll get your chance," Master Bo-Hi said calmly. "How are you feeling?"

Skar sighed. "Like this is all a dream. A part of me keeps thinking I'll wake up. Another part of me doesn't want to wake up."

Master Bo-Hi nodded. "The transition is never easy. Especially at so late an age. The Jedi of old knew how the world worked through their training and understanding of the Force. It becomes harder to facilitate the proper training into an already settled mind. In the old days initiatives were taken in to be trained at a much earlier age. To catch the mind when it is most open to learning. Unfortunately, this is a luxury we don't have."

Skar wanted to smile, but he couldn't. "Its okay. I'm not used to luxury. So what you're saying is that I can still be trained?"

Master Bo-Hi pointed to a small pathway that lead up from the dusty plaza around them and Skar followed him. "In youth we learn best but with age we understand more. A young person may know the rules but an older person knows the exceptions."

"Is that what I am? An exception to the rule?"

The Master thought long to find an answer. "I truly hope so, Skar." Master Bo-Hi led Skar to a ledge on a higher level that looked out over lanes upon lanes of ships and transports. They seemed to go forever. The Jedi Master settled down on his knees and stared out at the cityscape. He made a sound Skar could only decipher as a sigh. "Forgive me, but your world reminds me of Coruscant. The way it was before the Empire tainted it."

Skar snorted. "I always imagined Coruscant was beautiful."

"It was," The Jedi Master said. "It was."

Skar sat down next to the Jedi Master. "I wish I could have seen it."

"One day you will, Skar. If my feelings about you are true, you and I will witness a Coruscant just as it was before. Perhaps even more beautiful."

Skar hoped it would be true, but couldn't shed his doubts. "You really think so?"

The Jedi Master chuckled. "The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones that do. And with that in mind, lets get to work on your training."

Skar thought back on his first meeting with the Jedi Master, before they'd been interrupted. "You said you knew my uncle?" he asked.

The Master glanced at Skar. "I met him only briefly. But our encounter left a lasting impression. However I believe I can answer two of your questions at once. Lend me your lightsaber."

Skar felt weird handing it over, it had never left him, and to see it in someone else's hand was almost sickening him. He knew the sickness was an effect of the close kinship between the lightsaber and its wearer.

Master Bo-Hi weighed it in his hands. "This is indeed the lightsaber of Skind Kjoil." Master Bo-Hi acknowledged. "It matches his design, along with the symbols it has. The language of the Kjoil race."

Skar took it back, looking it over, examining the symbols. He guessed it could be a language, but the markings were too detailed for him to begin to wonder what they might mean. "I've seen a hologram of my mother. The symbols on the lightsaber looks like those on my mother's hands. What do the symbols mean?"

"It is the Kjoil family tree, it dates back to the very first Kjoil. From what I can tell, the tree works all the way up, to you"

"I'm in there too?"

"Skind died before you were born, so he didn't add you to the tree. Your mother must have done so after his death."

Skar cocked his head. "But…"

"But what?"

Skar thought hard. "Lwen always told me he stole it from Skind's grave on Coruscant."

Master Bo-Hi nodded. "And it doesn't make sense that your mother went out of her way to add your birth to the family tree and then leave it with his grave."

"No," Skar said. "I don't think it does."

The Jedi Master gave him a little nod. "Your insight serves you well. She didn't leave it with his grave. Lwen didn't steal it."

Skar felt uneasy. "What are you trying to say?"

Master Bo-Hi's expression sharpened. "There is no grave. Skind Kjoil left behind no physical body. He joined with the Force in his death. Your mother gave that lightsaber to Lwen to give to you when you were older. Along with the Holocron."

Skar scratched his chin. "But why did Lwen lie about it?"

"Possibly to save himself from explaining too much about Skind's death and his past. Maybe he felt guilty knowing that your mother knew she would not survive to raise you, and that he could not save her from that fate. Its not uncommon for someone to change the facts about the past, if it helps him look himself in the mirror with a clear conscience."

Skar felt uneasily but knowing Lwen as he did he wouldn't put it past him. Lwen was very good at blaming himself. He looked down at his lightsaber and ran a finger over the symbols. It did look more like a sort of register than just words. "So that's my name at the end, in the Kjoil language?"

"Yes. The Kjoil made tattoos on their hands when they became Jedi of the Old Republic. They made the symbols on their lightsabers too. It was to remind them that though their connection with the Force helped them serve the Republic, they still had their own connection that they should honor." Master Bo-Hi rose and walked around him, hands folded in their sleeves, deep in recollection. "The Kjoil were infamous for their deep connection with the Force. The name Kjoil was used as an example for other Jedi to follow. They were the very peak of discipline and control."

Skar suddenly felt very inadequate. "You're scaring me."

Master Bo-Hi chuckled warmly. "Do not be alarmed, it is in your genes to do the name proud. It is incoded in your destiny."

Skar stood up, so he would be able to look the Master in the eyes. He felt uncomfortable when the Master walked around him, mostly because it made him feel smaller. "This lightsaber, this weapon, it's…it's not…" Skar stumbled over the words, not sure how to put it. "It's never been a stranger to me. I feel like I know it."

Master Bo-Hi understood. "A Jedi is strongly connected to his lightsaber. It is as much a part of them as a hand or an arm, an extension of himself. Because you have the Force in you, you sense that this weapon was built by a Jedi too. A Jedi can read the entire history of an item through the Force."

Skar nodded, knowing he had that ability. "I want to know more. I need to know all about the Jedi, what they were, how they used their magic. But first I need to know more about my family, my race. The Kjoil."

Master Bo-Hi took in a deep breath, preparing a long speech. "The Kjoil were a special race. They lived on a planet called Ka'ckak in the Unknown Regions, a planet plagued with constant storms and rain. Living in caves inside deep mountains and in valleys, they first learned about the Force through their ability to make shelter from the storm. When they concentrated enough they could create a bubble against the cold and it helped them survive. Their closeness helped them to develop their skills. Every child learned to trust the Force to protect him against the strong weather. Every Kjoil could control the Force, and the abilities of the parent were already fully developed in the newborn child. The Kjoil used the Force for even the smallest things, such as warmth. They didn't bother with warm clothes against the wind, they relied on the Force to keep them warm. A truly harmonious race."

Skar looked up at him. "I thought they served the Republic as guardians, like the Jedi?"

"At first, the Kjoil had no contact with the outside world. They knew there were others in the universe, they saw the events through the Force, they knew everything that happened, but they did not have the ability to leave the planet since they could not construct starships."

"What happened? How did they contact the Republic and the Jedi?"

"At a time all of the Kjoil came together in an event known to them as the Gathering. The Kjoil alerted the Jedi to themselves. Within a week a starship carrying the Jedi Council arrived on Ka'ckak. The Republic set up an establishment for the Kjoil to live in, the only and first city on the planet was built, Kolan, and the Kjoil joined the Republic." Master Bo-Hi reminisced. "The first Kjoil to enter the Jedi Order were five selected by the Kjoil themselves. They learned to create lightsabers as a tool of peace and order. Almost all of the five Kjoil did not need any training and were immediately an important part of the Jedi Order. They were seen as examples of how the Jedi Order could truly develop. The Kjoil had the ability to pass on the skill from parents to the child, and normal Jedi do not have that. Not in the same sense. Which is why you have so much ability already though you've had no training. Its already in you, you just need to know where to look."

Skar heard pieces come together in his head and out of the blue he knew his family-history. He was beginning to feel whole. Knowing about his past helped understand the future. "Tell me about my family, the closest of them, my father, my mother, my uncle"

Master Bo-Hi glanced at Skar. "You must understand that your father Koll was not a Kjoil, he was from Corellia. Which is why you have not been born with a full connection to the Force. If Koll had been a Kjoil, you would have been born with the connection. But do not grieve. Your mother's bloodline enabled you to have a strong connection to it. You are not blind. Your senses and skills just need to be awakened. Your mother, who was also of two different bloodlines, was trained by Skind. He was put in charge of helping her awaken her skills. He started training her when she was fourteen."

"Koll finished her training later, right?"

"Yes. Your father took over, and she became a Kjoil Knight under his tutorage. Skind however, was an experiment. Like your mother he was not born with the skills, but the Jedi Order wanted to try to pair him up with a Master of another Jedi kind. The Kiil-Da. Sdah Kiil-Da trained Skind to help him to develop his skills. The Kiil-Da were seen as the hardest, training wise, Jedi Masters at the time, even more disciplined than the Kjoil, and some were afraid Skind would crack under the pressure, that he might go insane due to the difficulty of the training. It was an experiment to say the least." Master Bo-Hi shivered, and Skar thought it was more than just the cold. "But he made it. He pulled through, and the legend surrounding his name is adequate as proof."

Skar was amazed. "He must have been great."

For some reason Master Bo-Hi chose not to answer that question.

Master Bo-Hi filled him with more knowledge than he could hold as they sat on the ledge and after an hour or two Skar let him know so. Master Bo-Hi suggested that some physical training might help him settle his thoughts and Nar Shaddaa's underground had never been so bright as when Skar's golden lightsaber made perfect shadows of him on the ground around him. Being given instructions by Master Bo-Hi on some very easy techniques, Skar forgot all about Lwen and Kayupa.

This was fun.

And for the first time he felt like he was learning something about the lightsaber. Skar moved his hands from the left to the right, with a clean cut of his lightsaber, then he pivoted on his heel and struck down, ducking into a roll, cutting clean across from up to down, unfolded a perfect somersault and set down in a defensive crouch. The sweat had socked his pants, made them cling to his body like a second layer of skin, his bare upper body was moist and wet, his forehead had little pearls of sweat running down through his brows.

Master Bo-Hi was glaring with pride. Perhaps at being able to train someone new from scratch. The old scarred Jedi Master was a tree of knowledge and Skar was plucking ripe fruits from the branches.

"Good, excellent. You are mindful of the blade. You are careful. This is good."

Skar smiled. I've just been praised by a Jedi Master.

The training went on, but two hours later, Skar was exhausted. Skar laid flat on the dusty ground, breathing very hard. The sweat was pouring off him, like the confusion that swelled within him and threatened to overflow his emotions.

Skar kept himself flat to show Master Bo-Hi he was exhausted. "I think I'm done for now." Skar rolled over on his back. He shut off his lightsaber and laid it on the ground next to him. He couldn't muster enough strength to raise his neck and look up at Master Bo-Hi. "I mean; it feels more like an endurance-test. I don't feel like I'm learning anything anymore. I was at first but now its just the same."

Master Bo-Hi snarled angrily, something Skar had not anticipated. "That's because you aren't focusing. You're not concentrating enough."

Skar's breathing was sharp, and he almost couldn't hear Master Bo-Hi with all the ache and pain that was driving through his body and the ringing in his ears sounded like a waterfall. "But I'm doing the best I can."

"However it is not good enough. We'll have to work a little harder."

Groaning, Skar pushed himself back on his feet.

"Remember; right hand on top of the handle. Control the angle with the left." Master Bo-Hi lectured.

Skar nodded and adjusted his grip, his feet weary and hurting. "Ready."

Master Bo-Hi sighed with great disappointment. "No, you are not ready. You must have a stance. You can't slouch. A good stance is a sign of a proper state of mind. Even the fastest blade is useless if wielded by a dull mind. You must be completely focused, and concentrated, or you will be useless."

Master Bo-Hi gave him a small show of the different stances a Jedi would choose before entering combat, defense stances that would give the Jedi a strong edge to the combat. Each stance had a great strength in itself but also the selection of attacks that could executed against the attacker were numerous.

Skar held his lightsaber in both hands in front of his chest, leveled his weight evenly over both feet and held the handle out about a foot. The blade was slightly tilted so he could easily bring it down and protect himself as fast as was needed.

"Fight with your mind. The lightsaber is a weapon, but you posses one greater."

Skar concentrated his breathing and calmed it as well. "Now, I'm ready."

"You were right about this being a test, but it is a test of your trust in the Force. Your faith. You must believe it is there to help you. Trust it. The Force is the real gift when being a Jedi."

Skar nodded. "I see your point, Master." But that doesn't mean I'll live up to it.

When the training finally ended, Master Bo-Hi and Skar crouched down a few feet from each other. Master Bo-Hi asked for Skar's lightsaber again and Skar handed it over gladly, feeling no awkwardness this time.

"A Jedi can construct the lightsaber on his own, if he has gathered all the correct tools. The construction of the lightsaber usually marks a change in the Jedi, taking him to the next level in his training. Some Jedi experiment with the design to see what style fits them best, because the ability and comfort in using the weapon is as important as being able to construct it. Choosing your own design is important, because the lightsaber will gradually become more than just a tool or a weapon, it will become a part of you. It will feel as natural as any part of you. Treat it like a friend and honor its loyalty."

Skar nodded and watched as Master Bo-Hi held his lightsaber in both hands, staring at it. The Kel Dor looked almost nostalgic as his clawed fingers moved around on the handle of his weapon. He looked up. "I won't bother you with the technicalities yet, there is no need for that now. When the time comes for you to construct a new one, you will have the instructions. The lightsaber is a product of a forgotten technology. It is an elegant weapon, its movements matching the flow of the Force within its master. Not just a weapon, but an object of worship, an elegant weapon with excessive force. Able to pierce most known metals. The skillful wielding of it is the mark of a true Jedi. To use and wield and flow perfectly with the lightsaber takes years of training and discipline. When you've gotten used to it, we'll start you off with some simple moves that will teach you how to deflect blaster bolts with the blade."

Skar's eyes darted to meet Master Bo-Hi's cold metallic filters. "What?"

"Its true. When you are in unison with the Force it will guide your hands faster than anything you've ever seen and you will be able to see the future through it. You will know when and where the blasts are coming and the Force will guide you to place the weapon in front of you where the blast is coming from."

Faster than anything I've ever seen? Skar thought of Kayupa in the alley with the aliens; that'd been faster. But it was nothing against the speed of the Jedi fighting in his dream. And that speed was in his reach. I can be that fast, I just have to open myself. Once I learn how to let the Force in.

Master Bo-Hi closed his eyes momentarily, regaining his strength and wisdom through the Force, locking himself out of the world. Skar felt abandoned though Master Bo-Hi was sitting no more than three feet away.

"You…you're using the Force right now?"

Master Bo-Hi's head nodded slowly. "I am allowing its energy to channel through me and replenish my strength. I open my mind to it, and it feels my willingness to be helped. It obeys my wish and I receive its energy."

Skar thought it sound reminiscent of his own experience, only it had felt so staggering for him. The Jedi Master made it seem effortless. "You make it sound so easy."

Master Bo-Hi smiled and opened his eyes to look at Skar. "Being one with the Force is not something easy. Its a process demanding much effort, and faith."

"Effort? But you said the Force flowed to me?"

"It does, but the mind must be in the right state before the Force obeys your demand."

Skar figured out how late it was by looking at the dark sky above him, but his mind was still fresh and he didn't want to stop training yet. "Teach me how to let the Force in."

"Every Jedi looks inside himself to find out how. To find out what to do, how to act. You have to listen to your heart. Then you can't go wrong. You must be open to its flow and its advice. Right now meditation would be a step ahead for you, but you're not ready to make that step."

"Why not?"

"Because your mind is unsettled," the Jedi Master explained, "by the events unfolding around you."

Skar looked at his hands in irritation. "Kayupa told me that the wisest thing I could do was to listen to my heart."

The Jedi Master nodded. "He was right, if you wish to follow the path and destiny of a Jedi, you must come to terms with yourself."

Skar sighed, feeling it was easier said than done.

Master Bo-Hi went on. "Before change, you must realize who you are now. Only then can you understand what needs to be changed, and you can move on. Remember, if you can't recognize the reflection in the water, you must figure out who you've become."

Skar's thoughts drifted back to the dream he'd told Kayupa about. The reflection in the water. Skar thought of Lwen too, whose life was hanging in the balance.

"Life is full of change, Skar. And you don't notice it until the day you realize that your actions contradict what you once thought was right."

Skar knew that was right. He had once feared fighting, but now he prepared for it. He prepared for death in the service of good. He prepared to undertake something that was impossible. Something he doubted he would ever succeed.

At least not right now.

"What did you learn when you meditated?"

A weary expression took the scarred face of the Jedi Master. "The universe is still living in fear, Skar. The Empire has more control than I feared. There are those living outside its rule, the Rebels, but their morals are strained. And so are their hopes. The universe needs us, Skar. The Jedi must act soon, or we will be too late." Master Bo-Hi was frozen in place, staring at things Skar could not see and thinking thoughts Skar hadn't yet the gift to understand. "The Force is moving out there, beyond this matter."

"The Force moves? What does that mean?"

"That events are about to unfold. Events that will change our lives."

Skar's eyes became slits. "I guess I have a lot to learn. I don't understand…I don't think I understand how the Force works, yet."

Master Bo-Hi was full of understanding. "Then let me elaborate. The Force is in some ways a place you can visit. But you need to believe it to see it. You are not yet fully in trust of the Force, Skar. You need to have absolute faith, free of doubt." Master Bo-Hi looked around for something more substantial, than his words, as proof. "Look around you, Skar. Look at the ground, look at the flask, look at the sky, look at the sun, look at me, look at yourself. What are we? Are flowers just organic matter? Or is a flower alive, as much as you or me? Life is overwhelming, but is life only what we see? Or is life alive, someplace we can't see but only feel?"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"The Force has made life possible. You are only alive because of its power. All life is born from the Force. Its energy is in everything. Its energy is in you, in me, and even in the tiny particles of dirt you stand on." Master Bo-Hi folded his fingers. "We are living proof that the Force really does exist. Because life…is the Force."

"In everything?"

"Everything."

Skar scratched his chin. "But if the Force is in everything, shouldn't I be able to feel it already? Shouldn't I see it?"

"Once again your emotions cloud you."

Skar stepped forward. "So if the Force is in everything and I have the power to make the Force follow my bidding, does that mean I can do everything?"

Master Bo-Hi made a single nod. "The Force is very powerful and it has very little limits. It can heal you. Clean up the ugliest cut. It can send you beyond heights you ever dreamed if you are powerful enough. You can see the future, or even the past. You can feel life growing around you every second, feel the universe expanding forever, you can feel friends on the other side of the Galaxy. You can read people's minds, or sense their feelings. All these powers are granted to you, once you learn to use them, because the Force has chosen you to be its servant. You were made to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and drive off those who follow the ways of evil."

Skar was stomped. "Can I live forever?"

Master Bo-Hi chuckled. "Like I said there are some limits. No, you cannot live forever. Your life is as fragile as your physical form. If your body dies, you die. Like I said some wounds can be healed but not lethal wounds. And of course, if someone happens to separate your head from your neck, even the Force can't put you back together."

Skar laughed nervously, thanking fate that this Jedi Master wasn't all method-and-protocol. He was turning out to be a great inspiration, and the teacher Skar had always looked for. "This all…sounds very unbelievable."

Master Bo-Hi nodded carefully. "You must remember that, even if it sounds incredible, doesn't make it any less true. That thing you did, on the bridge, is close to being one with the Force, which a Jedi must be at all times. You're entering a world, a faith, where you have to believe that there is more to life than what you can see. Something is out there, Skar. Waiting for you. It is your destiny. And if you continue to doubt what you see, what you feel, you'll fail before you'll even begin. Everybody doubts themselves at one point. It is how they act from that doubt that helps them defeat it. It is not failure to make mistakes, it is failure to not learn from them."

"How do I defeat it?"

Master Bo-Hi fell into a trance. "First identify the doubt."

Skar looked inside himself, listening to all the fears that had been taunting him forever it seemed. Instead of shutting away those voices, he now let them say what they wanted. "I don't think I have what it takes to be a Jedi. I want to find my own goal. I know a Jedi follows the will of the Force, but I need to know what I can use it for. Where I can make the most difference."

"In other words, you're worried about the future."

Skar felt relief in hearing his worries be pinpointed in one sentence. To hear it so simplified. "Yes, I am."

"A Jedi is a sentient being, a living energy, chosen by the Force to ensure the balance of life. Of good and evil. As a Jedi, you should keep an open mind about the events that might unfold in the days to come, but never lose track of the things in front of you. Contemplate the future, but make the choices in the present. Find out what needs to be done now. And do it. The future is too unstable to be considered worthy of too much attention."

Skar thought of Lwen. Actions had been set in motion to reach that goal so it was fruitless to worry about that. Skar smiled as the answer, the key to removing all his doubts, appeared before him. The only way he could finally understand the Force, and the answer was so simple that Skar couldn't believe he hadn't seen it in the first place. He was worrying about his role as a Jedi, but he wasn't even a Jedi yet.

"Right now the best thing I can do, is to train and prepare for the Jedi life. Tell me more about how they were."

Master Bo-Hi complied. "Gladly."

Perched like a statue, rain washing down his motionless form, Kayupa watched over the building like a hungry predator, calmly praying and patiently hoping someone would slip up and provide him with an easy access to the inside of the structure. He knew where he needed to go, he could feel the familiar sensation of the Skar's uncle inside the building through the Force. Kayupa contemplated relaying that information to Skar and Master Bo-Hi but when he tried he could sense the two of them were busy training. He felt there was no need to contact them when he had nothing definite to tell either of them.

For a fleeing moment he felt like a jealous little brother, he wasn't used to sharing Master Bo-Hi, it had always just been the two of them. Getting accustomed to new scenarios was not his biggest virtue.

Rain poured in heavy streams around him but using the Force he blocked out the cold and wet feeling of the fabric clinging to his shoulders and back. He knew the rain provided him cover just as well as the dark heavens above. He had the ability to hide himself from others through the Force, but to use that now would be of the Dark Side. The rain hid him just as well as the Force, and to then use the Force unnecessarily would be misuse. Employing the Force when simple patience would produce the same effect, was of the Dark Side.

He had dressed in dark, leaving his usual Jedi cloak with the ship. Master Bo-Hi, as well as himself, had thought that someone might recognize a Jedi cloak. So he'd dressed like a mercenary, dark and shadowy, as well as promising his Master that he would stick to using his silenced blaster, if a fight should break out. However leaving the lightsaber behind had felt unnatural, he never went anywhere without it. It was a part of him.

So, hoping it wouldn't come into use, he'd taken it with him after all. It was attached to a wrist-gauntlet for easy access. At least that's what he deluded himself into thinking. The real reason for bringing the lightsaber was one he found it hard to admit.

Kayupa frowned in disgust when a single guard stepped over to the railing on the roof. When the guard leaned his blaster-rifle against the railing to tie his boot, in Kayupa's eyes, he pretty much sealed his own fate.

Kayupa stretched his legs to full length and jumped, crossing the gap between the two buildings in one long jump. He landed silently on a cushion of the Force behind the guard. With his back to the man, Kayupa then performed half a backflip, stopping midway, balancing on his hands. Before the guard turned to face him, Kayupa completed the backflip, his boots knocking the man over the railing, sending him screaming into the depths below.

With the inept guard tossed over the railing, he hunched down and sneaked cautiously across the roof with his blaster aimed out in front of him. He was on the roof of the loading structure, in the nexus of the V shaped building. A central loading ramp went up through the entire structure, all the way to the roof, to load material onto the landing ramp there. At present time the ramp was in the basement of the structure. In theory he knew he could ride the ramp all the way down to the dungeon and then back up again, but the danger of someone spotting him using ramp on a surveillance camera was too great.

Kayupa closed in on the ramp's sealed hatch. It was huge, ten times ten in meters, a lot of cargo could be stored on it, perhaps even a starfighter. Kayupa aimed his blaster at the hatch but then thought better of it. There was no way the blaster could slice through the thick metal. Instead he pulled out his lightsaber, realizing he'd done the right thing bringing it along, and the blue blade eased its way through the one foot thick metallic seal. He sliced a circle and pulled up the cut section up onto the roof, putting it down gently with the Force.

He peered into the dark ramp-shaft. It went 58 stories down into the building. He couldn't even see the bottom floor. Jumping down there won't do me much good. If the ramp was higher up, maybe. I should have brought climbing-gear. Letting air out of his lungs, Kayupa silenced his mind. There's always a way, just need to open your mind. Kayupa clipped the lightsaber to his belt and placed himself on the very edge of the hole. He held out his arms in cruciform and closed his eyes.

Before victory comes humility.

He leapt up into the air and raised his arms over his head, the hole sucked him in and he dropped smoothly down through the shaft. His bandana trailed above him as he rocketed down the many levels. Balancing himself with the Force, he reversed 180 degrees vertically so his head pointed down, his face being gushed by the wind. He remained calm on the inside, keeping his fear in check, as if the bottom floor rushing up to meet him was not important. Counting the levels that went by, his face still calm as the 38th floor went passing by, Kayupa remembered the layout of the structure from the holo back on their ship. The 25th floor was the one he wanted.

Here we go.

Kayupa deepened himself in the Force, deeper than he'd ever gone before, feeling the Force so close and so powerful, it was like he was cloaked in its awesome energy, feeling its power cover him like a warm blanket, then only to deepen itself in him. The hairs rose on his body as the Force surged through him, making him a catalyst for its power. Kayupa spun around himself and his mind wove through the fear and it vaporized like oxygen in space.

Kayupa, his arms suddenly reaching out and grabbing hold on the edge of the 25th floor, embraced his ally, the Force. At his speed and drop, if he'd been human he'd been pulled apart, but a Jedi could extend the limits his body and make the pain his body felt drift over him without him ever feeling it. He pulled himself up on the small ledge and dusted the rain from his suit, as he reached out with the Force and punched the switch to open up the two heavy set lift-doors, on the other side of the door.

The heavy metal doors creaked against the floor as they opened and bright flaring sparks flew over his feet. Kayupa stepped through the doors and they sealed again behind him. In theory he knew he could have plunged himself all the way to the bottom, but wasn't sure he would have the strength to concentrate so close to the bottom.

Kayupa combed back the few strands of hair that had fallen out from under his bandana during his flight and then unholstered his blaster and held it out from his body by stretching out his right arm, lining the sight up with his eyes, while his left hand supported the blaster by the grip. Before him, a circular maintenance tunnel advanced further into the building, spanning longer than he could see with his eyes. The circular construction of the tunnel allowed no hiding places, if someone came from the other end, there would be a fight.

Kayupa flattened himself against the corner wall of the tunnel and reached out to the Force, its energy moving through the tunnel like a sonar, and coming back to him with nothing. The tunnel was empty, and it led to a droid maintenance station.

Turning around the corner, lifting up his blaster to aim ahead of him, he started walking down the tunnel.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Skar recited with some hints of tedium in voice, enough so that he could hear it himself, "there is no ignorance, there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity, there is no death, there is the Force." When he was done, he couldn't help but say it one more time to himself in his mind, to hear if it echoed. Skar opened his eyes for approval.

As always the Jedi Master just nodded, an expression Skar had learned to understand as satisfaction but not neccissarily completion. "Any child can memorize words." The Master leaned forward, shadows dancing across his yellow skin from the nearby fire, "but do you understand the code?"

Skar nodded hesitantly. "A Jedi never lets his feelings get the best of him, he remains peaceful - "

…he keeps himself centered so he can see the path without distraction…

Moving silently, Kayupa delved deeper inside the building with stealth, hiding behind every corner, bulkhead or doorway that he could use, never staying too long in the center of a hallway. Kayupa tapped into the Force at times to disguise his presence from the guards and soldiers, but he used the Force to disguise himself only when it was absolute necessary, all other would be misuse. He hadn't used his blaster yet, but it was still firmly gripped in his sweaty palms.

…so he can see which path is the right one, to know which course to take…

He crept his way through the halls and made it through several rooms. He'd gone down five levels and knew his destination was only two more levels down. Right now he was in a storage area, where hangars and storage rooms were filled with stacks of crates and small fighters.

…through the Force he knows what needs to be known, so the answer is within reach always…

None of these chambers were very well guarded and Kayupa found himself feeling at ease, knowing he could overcome any adversary who might spot him. These men didn't have any indication of his presence it seemed. But yet, he felt losing his guard would not be appropriate. He stayed aware of everything around him as he continued to move through the halls.

…he never lets pride or anger take over, he remains intoned with the Force for comfort and guidance...

Kayupa took the long way around to the dungeon to examine a particular hangar. Two large locked doors blocked him from investigating it further. Kayupa ran his hand over the nearby card-reader next to the door and pulled out the identification card that he'd snagged from an alien two days earlier. It slid neatly into the slot, and Kayupa heard a beep as the doors unlocked like magic.

…he has compassion for every living creature, every living being is precious…

The door whooshed open, and Kayupa found himself feeling disgusted that no one was even guarding the secret the hangar held.

…and only by following the Force can he reach the true gift sealed for him in the Force…

With delicate steps he walked into the hangar, feeling no presence or even security systems, and took in the awe.

…his destiny…

Kayupa's mouth opened in recognition of the things humans could create when powered by love or hatred. Kayupa knew a secret about Skar's family that even Skar didn't know, passed on to him by Master Bo-Hi. The Jedi Master deemed Skar was not ready to know this certain piece of information and had strictly ordered Kayupa not to tell Skar under any condition. Kayupa agreed it would be better to wait, yet his fingers trembled with prolonged anticipation. Because if their hunch was right…the war could be over in a matter of weeks.

That was the self-chosen mission that Kayupa and Master Bo-Hi had set out on. A quest that even the Rebel Forces couldn't match. The resurrection of the Republic. The age he lived in, was packed with civil wars and evil emperors trying to take over the Galaxy.

But the thing that stood before him in the hangar told many stories of a time when things were different, of a time when things were more civilized. To see something this ancient and still so vital made his insides squirm.

When his Master had taken him from Shalasha, Bo-Hi had shared the secret with him that was so grand and so immense that Kayupa had been haunted by it ever since. In the days of the old Republic, a Kjoil named Skind, whom Kayupa now knew to be Skar's uncle, set himself outside of the Jedi Order and became a senator for his home planet Ka'ckak. He was not interested in bringing Ka'ckak into the Old Republic, he wanted to preserve its freedom and self reliance. Ka'ckak had given five of its kind to the Jedi Order.

All Kjoil were Jedi but not all of them wished to serve the Old Republic, they stayed on Ka'ckak and lived there for their whole lives. Doing nothing but just listening to the Force and enjoying the wonders they felt through life. In a state of hedonism and freedom.

The Kjoil had been called "Epigones of the Force," since they were believed to have the closest connection to it. Where Jedi were servants of the Force, the Kjoil were the direct offspring of its power. No one could explain why their link with the Force was so powerful that they didn't even need to train to understand it, it just felt natural to them. They were born with the Force already fully grown within them.

That was the life that Skind Kjoil had sought to keep for his kind. And to keep it in solitude, in return the Kjoil delivered five of their kind, called the "Five Epigones." They served as Jedi, as any other Jedi would and did whatever the Force or the Old Republic wished of them. They'd sacrificed their solitude so their families could have peace. Skind set himself apart by becoming a controversial politician and a brilliant strategist. As the Kjoil name became famous, Ka'ckak saw much attention. Suffering everything from physical attacks to racism, Ka'ckak and its people were becoming more and more vulnerable.

Receiving full support from the Jedi Council as well as the Republic, Skind was granted unlimited funds to come up with a security system for his home planet. He was given the Republic's most highly educated and most skilled engineers who would help him build a weapon. Skind had never used the word 'weapon' when talking about it, because to him it had not been a weapon, it was merely an instrument which would secure his planet for all time.

Skind designed the weapon himself, and baptized it. Kayupa smiled as he looked at something that was never meant to leave the space around Ka'ckak and which only Skind Kjoil could operate, standing in a mercenary's weapon-storage.

The Jentarana.

Walking across the hangar, a fiendish excitement had wrapped itself around Kayupa's heart. Punching in the access-code to the interior of the Jentarana's transport-vessel, Kayupa was glad to find the codes hadn't been changed. The door hissed as it slid open and stale air met Kayupa's face as he wandered inside.

The Jentarana had been trusted to Master Bo-Hi Dzog. Preparations for its safety was planned in the days prior to the Clone Wars, some twenty years ago, and Sasa Kjoil, Skar's mother, decided that Master Bo-Hi, who was a trusted friend of the family, was the only reliable person for the task. Lwen in turn was charged with the safety of Skar, before Sasa went to meet her demise in the Purge. Skar's father, Koll Riokon, had died some years before in the Clone Wars.

The Jentarana was sealed to the inside of a drop-ship for space travel, an idea Kayupa figured Skind would have hated since Jentarana was never meant to leave the atmosphere around Ka'ckak. Master Bo-Hi had hidden himself on Shalasha along with the drop-ship to ensure its safety. No Imperial force would come there, since the Jeterians, under the promise of peace, manufactured parts of their Star Destroyers.

It was slightly devilish, in Kayupa's opinion, to hide the weapon right in the middle of Imperial space. The Empire hunted the Jentarana for years, and in the first days of the Purge, Ka'ckak was destroyed hoping the Jentarana had died with it. Kayupa knew there was no way the weapon could be operated, since he had sat in its cockpit many times before, and made several attempts at turning it online.

He sat in the cockpit's only chair and gazed at the boards which had no keys, buttons or controls. He'd always imagined that the driver of the Jentarana would fly it through the Force, and thereby resembling the Jedi's use of the lightsaber; the weapon would become one with the driver and follow its will through the Force. Kayupa admitted if he was ever going to design a weapon that was how he would construct it.

Skar, your uncle was a genius.

A few months ago, Kayupa and Master Bo-Hi Dzog had been ambushed on Corellia. The unknowing mercenaries had stolen their ship and made it off with the most deadliest weapon to ever exist. Kayupa had remembered feeling such defeat and shame that the Dark Side had called out to him, and he had vowed revenge. Master Bo-Hi too suffered, especially his pride, but he remained composed. They managed to find out who the mercenaries had been; members of the Rancor League, a merciless weapons-manufacturer. They were based out of Nar Shaddaa which was the only place that sort of establishment could flourish. They were even rumored to sell weapons to the Rebels from time to time.

So Kayupa and Master Bo-Hi had ventured to Nar Shaddaa to find their lost prize once again. And they'd been lucky, extremely lucky, to find Skar on the same planet. Master Bo-Hi had explained it as the Force's will, and Kayupa had to believe that. As it turned out, the ship being stolen was the best thing that could have happened.

The part about Skind being the only one able to drive the Jentarana put a dent in Kayupa's plans. If operational, they could put quite a scare into the Empire, he'd bet they'd never expected to see that weapon again. Kayupa hated the thought of the weapon being in the mercenaries' hands, but it was as safe there as anywhere, they couldn't make it run either.

And if Master Bo-Hi made his dream of joining the Rebels true, they too would finally have the strength to stand up to the Empire. They could finally turn the tide, and that was Kayupa's intention. He would put things right again, and the Jedi would once again be in control.

Kayupa reached out to the Force and felt the warm presence of Master Bo-Hi far away. Master, the Jentarana is safe. And unharmed.

Kayupa heard his Master's words in the link between them provided by the Force. Good, that takes care of your second objective. Now go find Skar's uncle.

Kayupa replied. I feel so vacant sitting in this temple of power and with no hope of using it for its purpose. To bring order to the Galaxy.

That time will come. If not through Jentarana, then some other way.

Do you think Skar is the key to our mystery? He has the Kjoil blood running in his veins. He must be the clue to operating the Jentarana.

Master Bo-Hi said nothing for a long time. The Force will guide us to our destiny.

Kayupa broke the bond and frowned.

I feel the Force already has guided me. And its led me here. He caressed the padding on the seating like an old friend and left the cockpit. We'll meet again, Jentarana.

Much to his surprise and dismay the dungeon was actually guarded by a group of five. They were dressed in red uniforms and each brandished a blaster rifle. Kayupa noticed none of them had comlinks, which left them without the ability to call for help if and when he chose to attack. He accepted that he could not sneak past these and a small part of him was excited by that fact. Studying the interior he noted that the room wasn't suited to be a dungeon, there was no alarm and no contact to the rest of the compound. Thirty cells were lined up, with ten on each side of the room, and ten more up a level, reachable by a small lift.

Kayupa noted torture tools lying on a stool against the far wall. A single metal table was placed up against of the far wall. No windows, no other doors. The main entrance was the only way out. Which meant they would have to go through him to get out, and in all of Kayupa's life no one had gotten past him.

Excitement began creeping up his spine and he felt adrenaline pumping through him. Unlike others might, Kayupa was brimming with anticipation of some combat. Sneaking around was too easy for him in a place as unguarded as this.

Pressing himself against the bulkhead and kneeling by the floor, Kayupa flew out. With three successive, silenced blasts one of the guards went screaming to the floor and Kayupa hid himself behind the bulkhead again, as the four remaining guards unleashed hell with their rifles. He'd purposefully chosen to only take one of them down, it would have been too easy to take down three in one move. Not much challenge. The air filled with scarlet beams and the sound of deep thunder. The shots flew through the opening and scarred the wall in front of him, some shots even hit the bulkhead and dust flew onto his shoulder. They were brave at least, but terrible shots.

Kayupa rolled past the entrance, letting off four shots, before reaching safety behind the opposite bulkhead. His four shots killed one more guard and scarred a second terribly in the face.

Kayupa calmed the rouse in his heart but fed off the adrenaline. Nurtured it, knowing it would keep him alive and on his toes. He looked around the corner, confused why the guards weren't talking to each other to plan how to reach him.

As he peeked he saw the one on the left, the leader he guessed, signaling the two others on the right. Kayupa recognized the type of hand-signals they used. Stormtroopers? Kayupa slid a new clip into his blaster. What are Imperial Stormtroopers doing here? Maybe they're former Stormtroopers? Kayupa shook his head. Nobody leaves the Empire alive. Are they joining forces?

Kayupa raised his blaster and knelt next to the bulkhead.

Well, it does explain the lousy shots.

He saw the leader making more gestures, one of them Kayupa did understand.

Detonator.

One of the guards on the right, Scarface, rolled a thermal detonator down the line of cells and it jumped neatly into the entrance, right next to his boot. Kayupa stared at the device, its small lights ticking away. Two seconds left. Using the Force he sent the detonator rolling back out, peacefully and very slowly returning to Scarface. Scarface stared at it in disbelief as the detonator turned around the corner and stopped right between his feet.

The second guard on the right jumped for safety behind the table but the explosion took out Scarface along with the closest cell. The flames erupted and the right side corner of the room evaporated in dust. The ceiling came crashing down on the already dead guard and sealed his tomb forever. When the noise stopped, Kayupa knew it must have alarmed someone on the level above or someone else on this level. He had to work fast.

He rolled into the room and closed his eyes. Smoke had taken over the dungeon, making it impossible for him to see the other side of the dungeon, but at least that meant the guards couldn't see him either. He closed his eyes and the Force moved his hands to aim at the targets he couldn't see. The first guard by the cell took the shot in the chest and flew up against the wall then sprawled down onto the floor.

Kayupa let the blaster fall to the floor and whipped out the lightsaber from his gauntlet when the last guard saw through the clearing smoke and began blasting. If he wasn't easy to see before, he was now with the blue light illuminating the entire room. The man fired his blaster at the light in a panic, the blade whooshed up and down and sent the shots back, hitting floor-panels and ceiling.

Then, when it was no longer a challenge, Kayupa leapt forward in the smoke and sliced down hard on the man. The man let out a long horrible scream as fire burned through his intestines. Kayupa placed the lightsaber back in his gauntlet and scanned the room.

They were all dead. Corpses laid all around him with smoking blasts-holes in their heads, legs and arms. One of them was blown apart. Ignoring the stink of burnt flesh, Kayupa let out a breath of heavy air. Guilt sank in much too late. He'd not done all he could to save these men, he supposed if he had thought more carefully he could have taken them out without bloodshed. He knew this was why he had brought the lightsaber along in truth, because he loved fighting. It was something he had acknowledged and that Master Bo-Hi had struggled effortlessly to remove.

These mercenaries had taken something from him, something precious, something so important that he felt they deserved to die for standing in the way of justice. He hated these outlaws, or any outlaws who poisoned other people's lives. Not just hate, he was disgusted by them. They'd stolen the Jentarana and for that he figured a little payback was not out of place. And they'd beaten Skar up and kidnapped his uncle. How was he to feel anything for them, other than hate?

His Master's voice invaded his mind. Was that the correct thing to do?

Kayupa had never been any good at lying, especially not to Master Bo-Hi, and it shamed him to realize he even contemplated lying.

Was it not an act of anger? Of hate?

Kayupa sighed. His Master knew him too well. Lecture me later, Master. I've got a job to do. Kayupa found Lwen's cell quickly enough, and disengaged the lock. As the door slid open Kayupa faced the old man, staring back at him with disbelief shooting from his eyes. He looked nothing like Skar had described him, though Kayupa needed no physical image to recognize him. He felt the old man through the Force and knew he had hit pay-dirt.

"Who…who are you?"

Kayupa put out his hand and opened his palm. "I'm here to save you."

"Sweet goodness!"

Kayupa walked in front of them, stepping over shards of wall and body parts as they made their way through the carnage in the dungeon. He supposed it would be polite to explain what had happened but he didn't feel like it. He didn't bother to talk to the old man, he didn't want to talk about what had happened here.

"So you're with Skar, right? You're helping him?"

Kayupa's mind was occupied with the thought of reinforcements on their way to find them. "Right now, I'm helping you get out of here."

Lwen scratched his beard. "Skar has never talked about you. He never mentioned anyone like you."

"We've only just met." I should remember to pick my blaster up on my way out -

"You're a mercenary? He hired you to save me?"

Eyes blazing, Kayupa turned and pointed a finger at the old man. "I'm not a mercenary. Look, just shut up until we're safe."

The frightened expression on the old man's face made Kayupa's heart bleed. He hadn't meant to scare the old man, he just didn't want to talk.

"Okay, okay, I'll be quiet."

Kayupa turned -

And looked directly down the muzzle of his own blaster. He stepped back and by default pushed the old man down onto the dusty floor. Though he should have been worried, his vanity beat all other emotions to the finish line; Kayupa had never been held at gunpoint before. It just wasn't something that happened to him, he was always the one holding someone else at gunpoint.

The woman holding the blaster in his face was a foot shorter than him, her eyes perfectly oval-shaped and green. Her face was so contorted in panic that it was hard for him to figure out if she was beautiful or not. Blond hair tied in a knot at the back of her head, her clothes were dusty and filthy, the same color of her skin, pale like paper. Starving, her frail body nothing more than skin and bones, it made him sick how easily he could spot her bones underneath the white and dusty skin.

Her hands were shaking.

Kayupa froze where he stood, sensing her panic could easily evolve into a very messy situation. No reason to tempt her into using that thing. Kayupa cursed himself for leaving his blaster on the floor when he switched to the lightsaber, and there was no way he could retract that quickly enough now.

"Don't do anything stupid…"

The woman's soft voice tried to sound strong but failed. "You! Get me out of here."

Kayupa glanced at Lwen. "I'm just here for him."

The woman's eyes widened, her face flustering. "Then save me too!"

Kayupa tilted his head. "You've got a gun, you can get out of here without me."

The woman shook her head and Kayupa saw in her eyes how scared she was. "No, I can't. I don't know which way to go."

"Why should I risk my life for someone too afraid to risk her own?"

The woman was shaking all over now and Kayupa remained poised. The lightsaber was back in his wrist gauntlet but there was no way he could reach it in time before she could get the drop on him. "Because…that's what you do. You save people."

"I…" Kayupa was about to debate with her, but thought better of it. He had the advantage, she needed him. He held out his hand. "Give me back my blaster and I'll help you."

The woman stuttered. "Promise. Promise like a Jedi."

Lwen stared at Kayupa's back in awe. "Jedi? You're Jedi?"

"Shut up!" Kayupa and the woman shouted in unison.

Lwen held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright!"

The woman waited for her answer. "Swear!"

Kayupa looked at her and tried to look like as if he was seriously considering the offer or not.

"Any minute now," the woman stuttered, "they're going to come down here."

She was right about that, Kayupa figured. In the end he knew he had no other choice.

"I swear."

The woman held the blaster out for him. "Get me out of here."

As Kayupa picked up the blaster from her palms Kayupa felt a percentage of anger and a greater amount of embarrasment and felt thankful once more that Skar hadn't come along. He helped Lwen up and led them both out of the dungeon.

Now being a party of three they couldn't use the escape route Kayupa had originally planned, so he led them up through the levels and protected them as best as he could, but it wasn't easy being three. He'd been alone when he came in, and it was easier to hide one person than it was to hide three.

Eventually they made it to the highest level without being detected, but Kayupa wasn't too sure it was a good thing. Master Bo-Hi had once said, if things are going your way, you're walking into an ambush. As far as he could discern the guards were still on their usual patrols and had apparently not been alarmed about the shootout in the dungeon.

But it was only a matter of time before someone did. Kayupa ushered them into an empty storage room, clear of any patrolling guards or security systems. The woman, shaking like they were walking through an icy landscape, stared at him like he'd already gotten them all killed. "Why? Why have we stopped?"

Growling, Kayupa holstered his blaster and motioned for them to sit on the floor. "If you hadn't pulled that stunt back there, we'd be free now."

She trembled. "But I'd be dead!"

"Then don't complain! I'm getting you both out of here, right? So shut up and stay out of my way!" Kayupa cursed under his breath as he walked to a corner of the room. He mentally opened the bond to his Master, and was somewhat worried to find it was failing, falling in and out like a bad comlink. There was disturbance in the Force. Maybe Master Bo-Hi was in trouble, or maybe it was just him? The link came through eventually.

Master, we need help.

Are you in trouble?

Kayupa decided not to debate whether or not anyone could ever be safe inside an enemy's stronghold. No, we're alright, but we need pick-up.

His Master's words killed any fear he felt. We'll be right there, can you make it to the roof?

We're right below it.

Good. Hang on.

Kayupa broke the link and scrambled over to the two prisoners, kneeling down on one knee before them. Lwen was all happiness, even on the inside, full of hope and trust. But the woman was still dueling her panic and inner demons. When he looked at her she looked away and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Help is on the way, we just have to stay here for a while. But we're safe."

The very second Kayupa heard the flaring repulsorlifts of the Koniduz he lit his lightsaber. He caught a look on Lwen's face who was smiling like a giddy child who'd just been given a new toy. From what Skar had told him, Lwen had seen lightsabers being wielded by Jedi before they were wiped out. Confident in his abilities, Kayupa was sure he was as good as any of them.

The Jedi sliced a hole for them in the ceiling and the rain came pounding down almost immediately. Kayupa pushed the both of them up on his shoulders, one at a time, and then lifted himself up with the Force.

The Koniduz was hovering just above the roof, its roaring engines the only sign of light against the dark clouds over their heads. The rain torpedoed the ship relentlessly and rain washed off its hull in small waves as it moved.

"Closer!" he shouted, doubting anyone inside could hear him.

The ship lowered down so he could almost reach the descending ramp. But every time he got close enough the wind pushed the ship out of his reach. Kayupa waved to the ship to fly lower so he could pull himself and the prisoners up on the ramp. He spotted Skar, standing on the ramp. Skar was waving and shouting but Kayupa couldn't hear him over the wind and the roar of the engines.

Kayupa followed Skar's waving trying to make sense of it. Skar wasn't waving at him. He was gesturing wildly at something behind him. Towards the old man and the woman -

What's he trying to say?

Kayupa touched Skar's mind with the Force to understand what he was trying to -

Look out!

Through his magnified senses, empowered by the Force, he heard the trigger being pulled before he heard the blast burning through the air and whoosh past his left ear. Moving as fast as his body and the wind would allow Kayupa rolled sideways left on his shoulders, pivoted 180 degrees on his knees and raised his silenced blaster in the move.

"Hold it!"

Across the roof the woman tightened her grip on the old man and tucked the blaster, her own blaster, deeper into Lwen's temple. Kayupa could see the man was hurting, and reached out to the woman through the Force to calm her, but to no effect.

"Don't move or this guy dies!"

Agitated, Kayupa lowered his voice to a trembling bass. "I need that man."

"Then do as I say! Drop the weapon!"

Kayupa scowled. "Not this time."

"You drop it now!"

Kayupa held his position, unaffected by her threats. "I won't."

She sneered and pointed the blaster at him instead. "You think you're fast enough to stop me?"

Kayupa gave a confident smile. "Maybe."

She snarled in spite. "Your confidence sure isn't lacking -"

"Nor is my aim. Don't take it personal. I don't want to hurt you."

"Said the man pointing a gun at me!"

Kayupa raised his voice over the wind and found himself feeling genuine anger. "Said the man who busted you out of prison, lady! Would I have done that just to kill you later?"

She pointed the muzzle back towards the old man's head. "You would let me go? I don't believe that!"

He could feel confusion radiating off her. She didn't know what to make of his talk. "Its the truth."

"Just who do you think you are?"

Kayupa adjusted his aim at her shoulder instead of her head. "Right now a thin line between your savior or your killer. Depends on you."

That only enraged her more. "I will kill him, I swear!"

Kayupa felt the Force reaching out to him and he closed his eyes. His mind was flashing with images, feelings and emotions of the woman's past. The pictures rushed through him and he felt them so lividly that they felt like his own. Kayupa opened his eyes again and made his voice as comforting as possible. "You're scared and panicked but you're not a killer."

"Shut up! You know nothing about me!"

"Your loneliness is standing in your way. "

Her grip on the blaster slackened and she stared across Lwen's shoulder in confusion. "What are you…?"

"The only you're getting out of here alive, is to trust me. I told you, I could have killed you long ago if I wanted to. I don't," Kayupa lowered his blaster slightly to show his sincerity, "so please don't make me."

The woman didn't talk, she just stared at him from behind Lwen. Lightning struck not too far way and a brief moment of light allowed both of them to see the other clearly. Kayupa felt like his guts had been pulled from his stomach when he saw her eyes. Full of fear, but an untold beauty glimmering behind them. Sad eyes, the eyes of a person who had never had a moment of true happiness in her life.

Slowly she loosened her grip on Lwen and just looked at him with those lovely eyes for so long. He really felt he'd reached her. And not just to stop her, but reached her because he sincerely wanted to help her.

Kayupa lit up inside as she lowered her blaster and Lwen was released. He holstered his sidearm and reached out his hand to gesture her to take it. Reaching out to her, he felt her calming and he could sense that she too wanted things to end, in her was a desire to move on from her fear. Though it was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, Kayupa hoped that in him she saw a way to make that transfer. As she moved closer to him Kayupa assured his Master mentally that things were alright -

Only Lwen didn't see it that way.

Released from her grip but tired of being the victim and feeling the same rage Kayupa had felt when she ambushed him, he punched an elbow into her rips and she fell forward. Lwen ran towards Kayupa for safety, but he didn't make it all the way.

Acting on instinct the woman pulled her trigger - Kayupa touched the Force ever so gently - and the shot flew straight at the old man. The expanding blue ring grazed the old man in the shoulders and his lower back and he went down stunned.

The woman lifted the blaster, and looked at it confused. "I didn't set it for stun - "

Kayupa damned her for making him do this but wasted no time. His own gun set for stun planted the blast directly in her face and she fell down without delay. She slammed onto the roof's wet surface and laid there like a corpse.

In the following moments, Skar helped Kayupa carry Lwen onboard the ship and Skar took care of him. Kayupa saw no sign of his Master but knew the Jedi Master was controlling the ship and wanted to be ready for take-off as fast as possible.

Back down on the roof, Kayupa walked back over to the stunned woman and picked up her blaster. He'd managed to set the gun for stun through the Force just seconds before she pulled the trigger. She was right, she hadn't set it for stun; he had.

Should I leave her here? he asked his Master.

Inside he knew it would be easiest to just execute her on the spot. She'd gotten them in trouble and jeopardized his mission. She'd almost gotten them all killed. It would also be the most humane thing to do, once the mercenaries found her she would be tortured to reveal what had happened.

Do you think that is wise?

I can't decide, Master.

His Master's words were comforting and reasonable. That is why it must be your decision.

Kayupa holstered the weapon he'd picked up, and brought his own to bear. The muzzle was aimed at the woman's head. His hands were shaking. Seeing her sleeping peacefully made it hard for him to keep her at gunpoint. He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He pulled back the trigger ever so slightly, but something prevented him from taking the shot. He could feel emotions he was uncommon with starting to build up inside of him. Confusing emotions.

Reluctantly, he slipped his own blaster into his belt and lifted the woman onto his shoulders. But I promise, if you ever point a weapon at me again, you ain't walking away from it.

Within a handful of heartbeats, with Kayupa and the woman onboard, the ship rocketed off the rooftop, clear of danger. After securing his new hostage, Kayupa thanked his Master for helping him know what to do. His Master praised his apprentice for making the right choice and Kayupa left the bridge feeling pride once again, a feeling that hadn't touched his heart in a long time. The feeling only got better when he saw Skar reunited with his uncle in the living quarters.

Skar crossed to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Kayupa. You put your life out there for me. I can't thank you enough."

Kayupa nodded and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Thank you for the warning out there. We'll call it even."

Skar scoffed. "Not a chance!" He left with a smile and resumed to care for his uncle. Feeling happy for the two Kayupa walked on through the cargo-hold, a place that suddenly seemed alive with positive energy.

He found his captive now awake but tied up, sitting against the wall. He crouched down in front of her and looked her in the eyes. She looked like she was ready to eat his intestines and ask for more.

Kayupa rubbed his palms together, a clammy sensation suddenly manifesting. "What I said down there was true...I want to help you."

Kayupa was sure she would have snarled if only her body possessed the strength to do so. Instead she looked away and tears began to show in the corners of her eyes. "You shot me, and now you tell me you want to help me?"

Kayupa pulled out a small vibroblade from a sheath in his boot. He held it up for her to see, and her face paled when she did. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be lying in a puddle of your own blood back there. Make of it what you want."

She looked at the blade and back at him. "Why do you want to help me?"

He looked over at Skar and his uncle at the other end of the cargo-hold. They hadn't said two words to each other since their reunion, but Kayupa could feel the joy between them both. Words weren't necessary. "Look at them. They're happy because they're back together. I made them feel that way. I helped them," he looked back at her, "I was hoping to find some way of making you feel the same way."

She sneered. "So you're out to make the world a happier place?"

He smiled and let out a quick laugh. "Maybe not the whole world, but people I meet. One at a time."

She seemed unconvinced. "What satisfaction does that give you?"

"Little, but I was never put in this world for my own sake," he said grimly. "Every once in a while I meet someone like you. Someone interesting." He lifted the blade again, so she could see it. "If you pull something like that back on the roof again, this blade will set you free a second time," he blinked. "Get it?"

She nodded. "I get it."

He started to cut through the ropes and helped her up. "My name is Kayupa."

She held out her hand and they shook. "Shinran." She massaged her wrists and then headed for the nearest fresher, but then seemed to think better of it. She stopped and turned back to face him. "Hey. What was it about me you thought was interesting?"

Kayupa's eyes flashed briefly over her rear. "I'll tell you some other time."

With his position cemented among the top hundred most wealthiest beings in the Galaxy, Sasori Dragus was a man with few worries that couldn't be solved by throwing money at them. The weapons market was a dangerous one but he had mastered it down to an art. Knew how to pick all the right places, where to buy, steal or produce. He saw himself as a man with a wide understanding of the world he lived in, he kept himself always up to date with all the currents wars or riots that were going on in the Galaxy. An expert in galactic relations and combat.

And at exactly the right time he knew when to contact the losing side of a war and then sell his weapons at the highest cost to guarantee them victory. People didn't care about money, they cared about the victories. Even the Rebels knew that and he credited them for being such smart individuals, in their minds they weren't fighting for pride, they were fighting for a cause. And that made them desperate. The desperate and weak never checked their accounts before acquiring the latest in weaponry.

The Rebels believed firmly they were doing the right thing, but in his business there was no right or wrong. There was opportunity and profit. He saw himself as, above all else, a designer. He was a creator, and he could enjoy his work as long as he didn't have to think about the damage his weapons could do, and most certainly would do. Global peace did not interest him, the only kind of peace he believed in was achieved through superior firepower.

The loading ramp took Sasori to the roof, where only hours earlier a firefight had taken place between his former captive and her savior. The ramp doors swung open as the lift reached its destination and his ten bodyguards came flying out at his flanks, covering him with blasters of his own design.

Their thick armor protected them from a bolt even at point blank range, but was as light as paper, a design he was particularly proud of since it had just earned him another ten million credit on an always growing account.

Sasori felt pride wrap around an otherwise cold heart, as he watched the way his men scattered to create a circle of protection around him. They were young but his trainer had done well in tutoring them all to excellence. They aimed blasters in every direction, scanning the roof for dangers in their helmets' multiple vision selections and waved him forward when it was safe.

He clasped his hands at his back and stepped out onto the roof. The rain stopped pouring down around him and he looked up as the pull of the wind increased. The clouds parted briefly as a shuttle broke through like a swooping predator and came hovering down over on the landing pad.

Jets burned to cushion its landing, while the wings folded upright and the menacing ship finally settled down firmly on the pad. Shrouded in black, the ship's design was not easy to mistake. It belonged to his superior, a man who far outmatched Sasori when it came to cold-heartedness, Raydoen Jayant.

The ramp lowered beneath the shadowy body of the ship. And its captain descended the ramp with that careless swagger as he always portrayed. One of Raydoen's hallmarks was his black wardrobe. Always in black, the clothes clung to his body like a suit of armor though Sasori knew none of it restricted the man's field of movement. The collar covered his throat and almost made the man come off as a priest or holy man. The black as night cape flapped behind the black suit that Sasori always admired. He'd even pondered about getting one for himself. Raydoen had a style that exclaimed fashion as well as evil.

Raydoen was the same height as Sasori, but that didn't make them equals. The man, or alien rather, had short, closely cropped black hair that clung to his scalp like it was pasted on. The black goatee and mustache was neatly cropped and perfect at all corners and edges. The red tattoo in his forehead, in the shape of two semicircles meeting each other at their peeks, the emblem of the Rancor League, glowed as if by its own force. The devil's completely red eyes seemed to look nowhere, but still saw all. The skin of Raydoen was pale, adding to the impression that the man was a walking dead, an evil unheard of in this world.

Raydoen deliberately took his time walking to meet Sasori. The effect was lost on Sasori who considered it to be nothing more than another offspring of Raydoen's overwhelming arrogance. When the man-thing finally reached him, Raydoen stopped inside Sasori's circle of protection and folded his hands behind his back in a mirror of Sasori's own posture.

The rain washed over the alien but he made no notice of it, those red eyes just looked in Sasori's direction, burrowing deep into his soul, rattling his spirit.

Sasori cleared his throat. "Master." The title was honorary to its fullest, one that Raydoen had ordered Sasori to use when addressing him. It was more food for Raydoen's ego than a courtesy. In return Raydoen had the delightful habit, one that he never forgot to utilize, of calling Sasori 'Inferior'.

Raydoen smiled with his perfect white teeth, revealing the two extended fangs in his upper mouth. He'd sharpened those teeth on purpose, to add to the ferocity of his appearance. "What is it this time, Inferior?" The voice was dark and oozed with contempt.

Sasori found it ultimately pointless to defend himself, in the years he'd worked for Raydoen he knew that the man could smell a lie across the Galaxy. "Let me take you downstairs. I will explain the matter in full."

Sasori turned to walk, but Raydoen maintained his position, staring at Sasori's back with his flaming red eyes.

"Explain?" the man asked. "You mean apologize."

Sasori turned slowly, feeling a terror unlike anything he'd felt before when he realized he'd disrespected the vampire by turning his back to him.

"Or do you mean….beg for your life?"

Sasori breathed in, taking little comfort in the fact that if Raydoen attacked, his men were loyal to him first. They would kill Raydoen, every one of them, but that thought served as nothing but false assurance. He'd seen Raydoen take down three times as many enemies single-handedly.

Sasori swallowed whatever spittle his dry mouth had. "I - "

But it was too late. As was the trait for his species Raydoen's movement was a blur, supernaturally fast, as he leapt ten feet onto Sasori, crushing him to the ground under his black boots. With two rapid swirling motions the dangi blades were out from under the black cape and the double-edged blades crossed each other over Sasori's throat. He wanted to scream but knew the razor-sharp short-blades would kill him if he even dared to breathe.

His men aimed their weapons at Raydoen, but the alien had moved too fast for any of them to pick up. Now they didn't dare move.

Sasori could only make out glimpses of Raydoen's face as the rain fell into his eyes. Raydoen licked his fangs, his warm breath washing over Sasori's cold cheeks, his red eyes glaring with sick pleasure.

"You know my heritage, Inferior. You should know never to turn your back at me. You may not be Dfieeliuan, but you will learn about them if you are to work for one. To turn your back to one is a sign of hatred." Raydoen turned his voice into a whisper. "Do you…hate me, Sasori?"

With sharp fangs filling his vision, Sasori thanked the gods that Raydoen wasn't telepathic. He moved his head side to side, careful not to puncture his throat on the blades. He did hate Raydoen, he hated the man, not because he was evil, but because he was the most stuck-up, arrogant bastard Sasori ever had the misfortune of working for. The man did none of the work, he never had to talk with the clients and negotiate the deals. Sasori took care of everything, a chore that was simple enough as long as Raydoen wasn't around.

Every time the man came to visit, Sasori reconsidered his life. Fear kept him on Nar Shaddaa, fear and those days when Raydoen was not around.

"Remember this moment, Inferior. Death abandons no one. Not even someone as unworthy of it as you."

The blades retracted into the cloak and Raydoen straightened up, stepped over him and swaggered into the loading ramp, where he casually leaned against the railing. He smiled that devilish grin that Sasori had come to despise.

"Am I going alone?"

Sasori coughed up rain as a few of the bodyguards helped him stand. Rubbing his neck with his hand he reluctantly he joined his bodyguards on the loading ramp, noticing how the bodyguards stayed on the opposite end of Raydoen as the ramp lowered itself into the building.

The Dfieeliuan smiled like a demon all the way down.

Once safe in his office, Sasori felt his pride coming back, slowly but in transit nonetheless. The office was situated in the farthest end of the east wing of the storage facility. The walls were colored bright white like a sun, and sketches, drawings and pictures of his weapon designs were scattered out along the circular room. One section of the wall was made of transparent steel, a wide look over Nar Shaddaa bathed artificial light into the room.

Sasori's desk, made from black krachstones, was situated in front of the window, positioning him with his back to it. The glass was strong enough to prevent any would-be sniper from shooting him.

Currently, a holo-projector in the center of the room was playing through several surveillance images of a Jedi Knight, wearing a dark uniform and carrying a silenced blaster, as it made its way down the loading shaft, seemingly flying before halting in a maneuver that should have taken off its arms and jumping onto a ledge.

The entrance doors to the level opened, apparently of their own will, and the Jedi walked out of the camera's range.

Raydoen was slouched on a couch in the other end of the room, fingering small pieces of red meat from a tray next to the couch. Just listening to the alien slobbering made Sasori sick, but he kept his lunch down with effort. He'd grown used to it.

Dfeeliuans came from a planet inside the Inner Rim. They were predators, even cannibals, who hunted in packs against rivaling clans. The Empire had tried using them as special forces troops, like the Noghri, but failed miserably. The Dfeeliuans turned on their masters and ate them. Rumor had it that they enjoyed drinking the blood of their enemies.

Raydoen was one who was lucky enough to escape his owner. Dfeeliuans possessed feline-like grace that betrayed their very thin and spiny bodies. Though appearing sickly and unhealthy the carnivore was by nature in better health than Sasori himself. Raydoen's past as to how he became a weapon's dealer, and a wellknown and profitable one at that, was an easily solved mystery. The Rancor League's former head of affairs had been a Corellian named Tuui Neveran. Rumor had it that Tuui was dead and by the hands of a trusted bodyguard, a bodyguard who just happened to be a Dfeeliuan.

As for how Raydoen had become profitable, the blame rested solely on Sasori's shoulders.

Sasori poured himself a cup of caf at his desk, while Raydoen glanced at the holo playing from time to time with glee, between gushing down pieces of bleeding meat. "Remarkable creature, this…Jedi."

The way he hissed that name showed his respect for the Jedi went beyond admiration. Raydoen was a hunter by nature, a cold-blooded killer, always competing with himself. He pitted him against anything that would fight for its life, proving himself over and over. Many of these events had happened right there on Nar Shaddaa, in Sasori's own training facilities.

Many of Sasori's own soldiers and bodyguards had died at Raydoen's pale hands. He didn't feel the need to comment on Raydoen's observation. He had watched the holo unfold before, taking small notes and trying to piece all of the small puzzles together. Sasori looked up at the holo again, sighing with tedium until he noticed Raydoen staring back at him on the opposite side of the hologram.

"You look anxious, Inferior." Raydoen picked up another piece of meat with one of his dangi blades. "Is it the caffeine?"

Sasori reacted with a smirk. "I am anxious in your company, Master," Sasori looked back at the holo, "and appalled as to why you attacked me when you came in."

Raydoen let out a deep chuckle. "You appalled me when you brought ten bodyguards to meet me, Inferior. I could smell fear off your skin and your sweat. I couldn't help myself."

"I'm glad you had your laugh," Sasori sipped his caf and leaned back in his seat, trying to appear unmoved. "I'll brief you on the prisoner break, Master. The Jedi Knight - "

"What was the name of the prisoner?" Raydoen interrupted.

Sasori looked over the datapad in front of him on his desk, though already knowing the name by heart. "Her name was Shinran. That's all we know. We imprisoned her here after she -"

"Not the woman, Inferior." Raydoen stabbed his blade into a new piece of meat and brought it up, dripping blood over the couch. "The man." Raydoen's red eyes burned with curiosity.

Sasori began telling the long tale about how two of his men had followed a young man through the city, eager to loosen him of a few credits, when the man had leapt over a bridge. The man had carried what the men called a "beamblade". At first Sasori had thought them to be drunk but his technician had informed him about lightsabers.

The thought of a Jedi in their hands was useful for many things and for many people. Both sides of the war should be interested, Rebel and Imperial. Sasori hadn't decided on who he would contact first, but he had a feeling the Empire would have a bigger account. And to stay on the side of the winning team could lead to other fortunes.

The same men a day later had already established where he lived. They'd kidnapped the only person in the apartment, losing one of their own men. And now the Jedi had broken free the man from the apartment. Taking the insignificant, but beautiful woman with him.

Sasori wrapped the story up. "I think that sums it up."

Raydoen was slouched on the couch still, appearing unaffected or even interested in the tale, picking at his teeth with his claw-like nails. "Quite a story of woe, Inferior."

Sasori shrugged. "Its what happened, Master."

"How did it come to pass that the Jedi could make it all the way through the building without being spotted, only to then blow up a small section of the dungeon, and nobody hears anything?"

Sasori raised his shoulders. "The walls are of a special compound of durasteel, the kind they use on ship hulls. Its soundproof. He used stealth all the way, which I hear is very natural for a Jedi. They don't make action unless its called for - "

Raydoen made a sound Sasori had never heard before, it started as a growl but ended in a vicious and vile snort. Clearly Raydoen didn't think much of such a decision. In Sasori's mind stealth was the wisest decision when breaching an enemy's base, espicially when operating solo. To attack with sheer force was unwise and dangerous and cost a lot of lives. Stealth was cheap. He'd designed many weapons for stealth-usage.

"Master, the men in the dungeon were… special."

Raydoen's dead eyes shot wide open. "You lost them?"

"The Jedi-project was of highest importance, Master. I figured it would be wise to put our best men to guard the bait - "

"Bait? Bait implies you had a trap ready!" Raydoen rose to his feet and his pale hands clenched in fists. "Those stormtroopers had no loyalty to us. The only reason they're here is because Admiral Stamper ordered them to. That's what made them sloppy. And you set them to spring the trap!"

Sasori didn't know what to say, and fear started to form in his chest.

Raydoen reached for one of his blades in anger, but never finished the move. Sasori realized he'd been holding his breath. Raydoen let his grip on the blade go and roared in anger at the ceiling of the small office.

"You incompetent fool!"

Sasori decided to stick up for himself. "I didn't think my own men were as fit as the troopers, Master."

"So you picked stormtroopers instead? Fool. You might as well have placed blind snails on life-support to guard the dungeon." Raydoen closed his eyes and opened them again; the glowing red tattoo thundered with hatred and disappointment. "It doesn't matter now. Admiral Stamper doesn't know about the Jedi. He knows only of the other."

Sasori felt his stomach flip. "The other? You've sold it?"

Raydoen smiled and lifted a clawed finger as bony as a corpse's. "He has paid me in advance. He knows that we have the weapon. But he doesn't know of its status. I've told him only little bits of the truth. That's why he stationed his troopers with us, so they could detect if we were plotting anything devious." Raydoen licked his fangs. "We are."

Sasori turned his eyes into slits. "What?"

"Admiral Stamper will bide out time till the right moment comes, right at the turn of the war. When the Empire needs a new weapon the most."

Sasori tapped his desk. "Master, with a weapon like that, wouldn't it make more sense to pawn it to the Rebels?"

"No. We'll stay as honest as we can to Admiral Stamper. Besides, your technicians have made no progress at making it function."

Did he have spies in the facility? What am I saying? He's got spies everywhere. Even with the Empire. Probably even the Rebels. Always looking for the next good war. "No, we still haven't made any progress. But the Jedi, he was inside it."

Raydoen's red eyes lit even brighter. "Really?"

Sasori nodded and fast-forwarded the holo. Raydoen stared at the image of the Jedi manipulating the password-panel on the exterior of the ship and then made his way inside. Raydoen glanced curiously at Sasori. "If we study this footage close enough, we might be able to find out the password."

Sasori finally felt like they were on the same page. "Then we'll have a weapon to pawn, Master."

They both continued in observing the holo of the Jedi as it rolled past a security guard when the guard turned his back to the Jedi. All done in stealth and secrecy. Then the Jedi reached the dungeon and they watched him unfold many actions and professional combat behavior against the unwilled stormtroopers. The Jedi even pulled some sort of magic on a detonator and made it roll right back to the trooper who had unleashed it. Later the Jedi fired up his lightsaber to bring the last trooper to a smoking end.

Sasori muttered. "The bodies have all been burnt." He swallowed hard. "And the remaining seven stormtroopers have been killed before they could make any transmission to Admiral Stamper, Master."

Raydoen snarled, but never took his eyes off the holo. "So you did something smart, remarkable. Make sure I'm invited for the anniversary next year." Then Raydoen leapt forward and pointed at the holo. "Stop. Playback ten seconds."

The holo looped ten seconds back, showing the Jedi slide a new energy-clip into his blaster. The empty clip was thrown on the floor next to him.

Raydoen smiled fiendishly. "Get that clip up here. I want it."

Sasori was confused, and severely doubted the clip would still be on the ground. A cleaning and repair group had already restored most of the dungeon. "But - "

"Just do as I say."

Sasori noted the request and continued the recording. When the woman held the Jedi at gunpoint they realized that she had not been part of their group and that the Jedi had come solely for the old man.

"They brought her out of sympathy." Sasori ventured.

Raydoen frowned. "More like necessity. Or maybe they had the same lust burning in their loins as you, Inferior."

Sasori controlled his rage, feeling slightly like a cup beginning to overflow.

"The rescue was nothing more than that; a rescue. Emotional. Nothing strategic. They didn't go for the weapon," Raydoen scratched his goatee, "however maybe the Jedi planted a trap in there for us. We must be cautious."

The clip ended. Sasori found himself pondering small thoughts back and forth. And something dawned on him. "Odd."

Raydoen looked at him. "What, Inferior? Speak!"

"The men who followed the Jedi on the bridge said its 'beamblade' was the color of fire," Sasori pointed at the holo, "this one is blue."

Raydoen's red eyes lowered in color. Then he looked out the window and stepped to its edge. His fingers still played with his mustache in deep thought, far away in his own scheming and planning. "We don't need the Jedi after all. It was foolish to think we could make it do what we wanted. We can gain access to the weapon ourselves. Meanwhile we'll up security and focus our technicians on the ship. I'll have Dr. Oteyu fly in from Pathfort. Admiral Stamper will just have to wait for us to make the weapon ready for him."

"What if he needs it before then? From my experience the Empire isn't all too keen on delays."

Raydoen frowned. "He doesn't know we have not learned how to manipulate it yet. If he asks for his weapon before we learn, then we'll make up a story. The good news is that we already have the money. Admiral Stamper will die in war before we ever find out to make the damned thing work." Raydoen smiled to himself. "Or he could have an accident."

Sasori nodded, only then starting to feel relieved he hadn't been executed for negligence. Yet.

"I like the idea, Master. I'll report to you on the progress."

Raydoen's eyes blazed brightly red. "You think I'm leaving?" Raydoen leaned in over the desk and his hellish eyes were burning with a sick delight. "I'm going to dig in here, and you'll be my second in command."

Sasori felt the sweat running down his spine, his shirt clinging to his back. "Of course, Master." I don't know why I'm so surprised…

Raydoen crossed to the couch and picked up the last piece of red bloody meat with his hand and threw it in the air. He caught it with his teeth when it came back down and the blood went dripping down the sides of his mouth. He swallowed it and wiped the blood away with his sleeve. "Here I can prevent failure. Your failure."

Sasori nodded, trying his best to swallow the taste of bile in his throat.

"And I'll be needing a chamber," Raydoen held up his palm to silence him before he could speak. "I'll find a place myself. Start getting to work on our plan, Inferior."

Sasori nodded and punched off the holo.

"And one last thing," Raydoen turned to look at him and the red eyes brightened in their color till they were almost burning in his sockets. "The Jedi. If he wants the weapon, he'll come looking for it again. This time I will deal with him."

The Koniduz came flying through Nar Shaddaa's dense urban maze at full speed, dodging buildings and swooping below girders before finally reaching a scarred section of land far from any inhabited part of Nar Shaddaa. Setting down over the junkyard its engines shut down and the roar of the repulsorlifts drowned in an eerie wave of sorrow. The landing ramp lowered slowly, its gears groaning in need of grease, before it touched down on the muddy soil and lights flickered on around it.

A single set of feet came walking down the ramp, their steps light, as if the soul the feet belonged to wasn't really there.

Skar heard the squish his boots made when they stepped down in the mud, but the sound didn't register. He folded his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together and looked out over the scrap yard of decayed spaceships. Hulls, engines, scarred bridges, wings and many other unidentifiable pieces of age-blackened ship skeletons were scattered as if an armada had been tossed to the ground by some great god.

Everywhere he looked he saw rusted metal, a cemetery for obsolete and broken ships. This deserted place was so far out that Skar couldn't even see the skyscrapers he was so used to anymore.

He walked through the scrap-yard for a couple of seconds, like a zombie, lost in his own thoughts. Seeking a moment for himself to think, he perched himself on the edge of a scraped starfighter wing. Sitting there felt better to him, but the solitude he'd hoped for didn't help make things better. It didn't make the pain go away. He looked around to see if anyone was around, he wouldn't be surprised if all kinds of creatures lurked in this forgotten place.

And when he saw none, he broke.

The tears flooded immediately to his eyes, he was surprised at how well he had been able to hold them back for so long. His throat started to tighten, his face contorted and began to feel warm. He fell down on his knees, but not by his own choice. The tears ran down his face and past his lips, he tasted them, and that taste caught him remembering every other moment in his life where he'd cried.

Every time he'd ever cried he could remember that salt in his mouth. His belly writhed like a snake on fire, his jaw tightening against the tears that flowed. He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse someone, anything. He wanted to cry away the world, wanted to turn back time, wanted to dig himself a hole and hide from everything. He felt trapped in a world where he couldn't do the things he knew would take away the great pain he was feeling inside. He didn't want to believe he was gone, he couldn't believe it.

It was…impossible.

Lwen couldn't die. He was everything he'd ever had. He was his…his father, his best friend. He'd always been there, he couldn't be gone. He just couldn't. Guilt broke through his pain, and Skar realized his own failure. He had treated him like dirt.

Skar bent his back down so much that his face almost touched his kneecaps. He'd treated Lwen like dung, he'd left the man behind, called him things he wished he could take back so much. But there was nothing he could do.

Reality crept up his spine and Skar let out a long scream at the stars above him, his cry echoing into the night. Even the screaming wouldn't remove the heavy weight in his chest, or the aching in his head.

Skar could feel a part of him ebbing away inside, a hollow feeling in his knotted intestines, yet a part of him he didn't want to let go of. A part of him he had taken for granted. He felt like he was losing his mind. Full of anger and needing to lash out at someone, anyone, Skar cursed whatever Force that had pushed him into this life, whatever cursed mother who'd ever given birth to him, whatever damned fate he was meant to endure; but no screaming could make it all go away.

Nothing would ever make it right.

A soft gloved hand touched his shoulder and Skar looked up at the blurred image of Kayupa standing over him. He looked away from the man and cursed him in thought too.

"I…don't know what to say, Skar. But I know you have to let it be. You must let go."

Skar heard him but didn't want to listen to him. Skar wanted more than anything to drown out Kayupa's presence. To be alone.

"Shut up!" he screamed. "Shut up!"

Kayupa's bandana hovered behind him, a watery look in his eyes. "I'm here. I want to help you. Please let me help you."

He stared at Kayupa through blurred vision. "You? You can't help me!"

"Yes, I can."

Skar felt the hollow eating him up inside, the horror and the grief. "You can't…bring back Lwen."

Kayupa felt his throat close tight in sympathy. Shortly after their rescue Lwen had suffered a heart attack due to the stun-blast Shinran had shot in his back. The old man had fallen down and died almost instantly. There was nothing either of them could do. Not even with all their Jedi powers. It was Lwen's fate. Nothing in the Force would give him back life.

Kayupa felt his pain through the Force and they shared it. Skar rolled over on his back in the mud and his mouth clabbered. A shudder quaked through Kayupa. And even more sorrow because of the knowledge that he couldn't help Skar after all. The pain had to be cried away, and Skar deserved the privacy.

Reluctantly Kayupa walked back to the ship, leaving a torn and broken Skar Kjoil behind him. As he came back to the ship he found Master Bo-Hi sitting on the ramp, his mask the only visible face feature within the hood. Behind him the woman made her way slowly down the ramp, shivering as the cold winds touched her.

Kayupa felt a moment of anger seeing her there, and denied himself to feel any sympathy for her.

Master Bo-Hi's hood moved slightly. "Shinran, go back inside."

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to be alone in there - "

"Do it!" Kayupa shouted, surprising himself. "Go back inside! Nobody cares what you want!"

"Kayupa," Master Bo-Hi warned.

He sighed, but it wasn't because of his Master inferring. He sighed because he once again felt the weakness inside of him. The rash and uncontrolled anger. He felt his jaw tighten, and he held up his palms, admitting his defeat. "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want." He lowered his hands and breathed slowly. "Master, you must tell him."

The Jedi Master nodded. "When the time is right."

"He needs to know!" Kayupa insisted. "We're so close!"

Master Bo-Hi put his claws together and formed a temple with them. "I know what he needs," the Master rose, "and I will tell him when he's ready."

Kayupa held out his hand to where he'd left Skar. "Why not now?"

The Jedi Master looked at him briefly. "In his present state?" Bo-Hi shook his head. "It would break him, and he would kill us."

Kayupa scoffed. "I think you're being dramatic." He noticed Shinran still standing on the ramp, listening to their conversation, and wondered if letting her hear these things was unwise. But he doubted Skar would listen to anything she had to say.

The Jedi Master collected his cloak around him. "Dramatic? You don't know the Kjoil as well as I do. Given extreme circumstances, his power might emerge too quickly. It would destroy him, and it would certainly kill us."

"Him?" Kayupa laughed. "He's just a boy."

The Jedi Master's voice became a grim whisper. "The most dangerous men are always orphans. Put Kjoil into the equation - " Master Bo-Hi shivered. "Well, you know their history."

Kayupa found it hard to believe that Skar could be capable of inflicting such disaster at so early a stage. "Master - "

"Kayupa," Master Bo-Hi said softly, but with an edge to his voice, "why did you neglect to tell me that you brought the lightsaber along on your mission?"

The Jedi Knight's eyes fluttered. "I - "

"We've had this discussion before, haven't we?"

Kayupa looked away. "It has nothing to do with that. I just thought that - "

"If it has nothing to do with that, why didn't you feel sure enough to tell me?" The Jedi Master rose, folding his hands inside his sleeves. Although the Jedi Master had very little facial expression to make use of, Kayupa had learned to interpret his body language. Disappointment was one of those he knew best. "Is it human nature to think wisely and act foolishly?"

The Jedi Knight knew the discussion could wait and focused on a more present matter. "I'll make preparations for the funeral."

Master Bo-Hi nodded.

Shinran took a step down the ramp, her tension poorly hidden. "I…I want to help with the preparations."

Kayupa snorted. Ascending the ramp he brushed against her hard, almost pushing her over. "You've done enough."

"We have gathered to bid Lwen Kando farewell."

Lightning touched the ground in the backdrop of the funeral, rain showering over its participants, leaving the tears shed unseen. Three people besides Skar, even the woman with the green eyes and the blond hair, had shown up at the burial site, but Skar had never felt more alone. His insides were writhing in unquenched anger and his heart felt like a black hole where no love could ever be born again. He could feel the Dark Side courting him, begging for his allegiance, but Skar felt it too beneath him; even the Dark Side seemed harmless compared to the damage he felt like distributing. His face was stone, revealing hate and disgust, igniting a fire fueled on bitterness.

But somewhere between the anger and the hate, Skar found he could pass the blame on no one but himself. Skar only imagined how he must have frightened Lwen from time to time. Perhaps he had pushed him too far all these years. Lwen had gone through extreme measures to ensure his safety, and he'd spent his time risking that very safety. People had made huge sacrifices to make sure that he, Skar Kjoil, the last remnant of the Kjoil, Jedi, survivor of the Jedi Purge, would live long enough to carry on the torch, the legacy, of his family.

No, not people, he thought. Lwen had done it all. He'd succeeded. Even when he'd been at his weakest, he'd still been there and been an inspiration to Skar. If only your will hadn't listened to your old heart…you'd still be here. The tears flowed freely when Skar grieved his own faults as a son, judging himself worse than he'd judged Lwen's actual murderer. I've lost my only family, the only one who ever cared for me. Skar only hoped Lwen knew how much he had wanted to make up for his sacrifice, to show him that it wasn't in vain. He hoped…Lwen was proud of him.

"The dead belong to our hearts as much as the living. Their memory as cherished as the company of those next to us."

Skar noticed a glance from Master Bo-Hi standing across from him

"Those that live on to help us and guide in our lives as those we have lost."

Skar looked at the woman, for whom he'd spawned much hate in the last day. He'd traced every line of hate right back to her, and wanted to kill her. Honestly he did. Perhaps that was why she was standing the furthest from him. The others must have advised her it would be safest, if they did they were right. Kayupa had kept her occupied in activities so Skar wouldn't have to talk to her.

Skar found that strange since she had been the one causing all this turmoil, and she'd even pointed a weapon at Kayupa, twice. But he was thankful that Kayupa had put his feelings above his own.

Skar didn't know what he should say to her. Master Bo-Hi had explained how he shouldn't blame her, but he still trembled with hatred just looking at her. He was appalled they were still bringing her with them, and it made him unsure that he wanted to go with them after all. Maybe it was the wrong choice.

The Force teaches you love for all beings, but even for those who've hurt you? Is there a line to forgiveness?

He was frustrated. On one hand he wanted to leave Nar Shaddaa behind and continue the path Master Bo-Hi had laid out before him, on the other hand he wanted nothing to do with either of them. A part of him had no doubts about what he had to do, but it was a choice he felt betrayed Lwen's memory. He knew if he started to put up walls now, he might ruin his training forever, but it was what he really wanted. He wanted to exact revenge, he wanted someone to suffer as much as he had. He wanted the pain to be worth it, if only he could squeeze the life out of the one responsible.

Leaving the burial site behind, Skar turned his back to Lwen. He knew he hadn't given a proper goodbye but his feelings were overwhelming him.

Soon enough Kayupa came running up to catch him and got in his way, pushing him back, firmly but kind. Not realizing he'd done it before it happened, Skar put his arms around Kayupa's shoulders and they hugged each other tightly. Having never hugged anyone besides Lwen, it made the pain easier to deal with. A growing friendship existed between Skar and Kayupa, and Skar found his proof in Kayupa's strong return of the hug.

Kayupa ended the hug but held onto Skar's shoulder to comfort him. "What now?" he asked, his face a mirror of Skar's.

Skar shrugged, not really sure about what to do next.

Kayupa gave Skar's shoulder a tug. "We're still with you."

Skar cracked a brave smile. Taking a deep breath, summoning courage, Skar turned to look at the burial site. Master Bo-Hi was already looking back at him.

"You want to train me in the Force."

Moving composed, Master Bo-Hi came up to stand between Skar and Kayupa, his fingertips interlocked. "Your life as a Jedi will not be easy on you, if you choose this path placed before you, then a hard life indeed it'll be." Master Bo-Hi's hands fell down at his sides. "You will leave this sorrow and you must never look back to this point. You must never dwell at this pain. Your eyes must look forward to the future, be who you want to be. And do the things you've only dreamt of doing."

Kayupa nodded in agreement with what Master Bo-Hi said. "This is the moment you've been waiting for. This is one of those moments that decides the future of our fate. Fact, not fiction." Kayupa held out his hand to Lwen's grave. "You have to say goodbye."

Skar nodded and knew then and there which decision was the right one. I'm really here. A week ago, I was the only one, now I've found a teacher and others just like me. I'm not alone anymore. I'm not the last of the Jedi.

He walked back over to the grave and didn't even look at the woman who stood back from the burial site as he approached. Crouching down on one knee Skar placed his hand on top of the coffin, an old escape pod which had been the only thing they had to serve the purpose of Lwen's final resting place. His throat clogged and he felt tears pressing behind his eyes. In touching the grave he remembered a poem that Lwen had read to him when he was younger. It was a poem Skar's mother had written to his father;

wherever I go the memory of you follow

your memory takes me through tomorrow

and in my actions I hope you will see

your undying will fights on in me

Skar's jaw tightened in pride, his voice barely a stutter. "I know you would have wanted me to be strong…so I'll show you what being strong is all about. Goodbye…and thanks."

Master Bo-Hi and Kayupa both looked at him through sympathetic eyes. Skar wiped rain from his face, and nodded resolutely. "Good, now you can bury him."

Kayupa said, "We can never keep moments frozen in time. All we have is memories and if we hold onto them strong enough, sometimes they can be a light."

Skar laughed bitterly and wiped his last tear away. "I hope so too, Kayupa. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi. That's what Lwen hoped I would, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him down now." Skar nodded towards the woman. "Even if it means bringing her." Skar walked past Kayupa and the Jedi Master. "Lets get out of here."

When the Koniduz left Nar Shaddaa's atmosphere Skar insisted on being up in front of the ship. From the cockpit he watched the stars outside shine like they'd never done before and realized it was his first visit into space. All his life he'd watched ships coming in and out of the clouds over Nar Shaddaa, sometimes wishing he could be onboard one of them.

The thought that his wish had now come true sent rays of light through the dark shroud hanging over his heart. He wanted to smile, but the grief was still too near and his headache cast its own shadows on things.

Skar leaned up against the wall, a content look on his face as he stared at the stars outside the ship. Those once tiny beacons of light suddenly so close, so real and so near he felt he could almost reach out and pluck each one from the darkness. They were glistening, fluorescent, and empowering. They were there, so close. Right there.

I'm free.

Skar pushed away from the wall and took in a deep breath, knowing he would soon shed tears of joy if he didn't pull himself together. He chose to focus on Kayupa instead, as the Jedi Knight logged in coordinates into the navigation computer. Skar glanced down at a console in the cockpit to see the name 'Nanh' written on a screen. Master Bo-Hi looked over Kayupa's shoulder and nodded.

Then he turned to Skar. "Its quite a way, couple of weeks travel."

Skar shrugged. His journey had already been well underway for the last twenty years, a few more weeks didn't make much of a difference to Skar. "We have all the time we need."

Kayupa flicked a switch, and a screen showed Nar Shaddaa behind them, his home, shrinking into a small ball.

"Wanna take a last look at home?"

"No, thanks," Skar smiled. My life so far has been a cage, I wasn't ready to be set free. Now I'm ready to handle the life prepared for me. I have to learn about the Jedi so I can learn who I am. Skar felt his heart tighten at the thought and looked away from the screen, instead he looked ahead to the stars, letting their subtle presence fill him with light again. "Never liked the smell of the place anyway."

Kayupa grabbed onto the hyperdrive activator as the coordinates were logged in and ready. "Let's make our escape."

Travelling between star systems would be impossible were it not for the development of the hyperdrive. The hyperdrive was a combination between the engine and interrelated systems that propelled a starship through the hyperspace. In hyperspace, there was no limit to how fast a starship could travel, and thus interstellar distances could be traversed in mere minutes.

Knowing that made Skar think that if it took weeks to travel to Nanh, that meant Nanh was on the other side of the Galaxy. The thought made him happy, all he ever wanted was to be as far away from Nar Shaddaa. He vowed then and there never to return to that place.

The stars stretched into white lines that imprinted on his eyes as the Koniduz entered hyperspace and sped towards Nanh.

Wherever that was.