They had told him that Nar Shadaa would be overwhelming, but nothing had prepared him for what hit when he first stepped off of the shuttle—a discordant symphony of smells, sounds and pulsating lights, underscored by the confused emotions and energies of teeming billions exuding their presence through the Force. Now, three days later, he had been able to tune through the noise, at least somewhat, but whenever he closed his eyes and tapped into the Force the blend of emotions swirling around him still swelled to overpowering levels. His Master had told him to practice attuning himself to such intensely concentrated Force energy, but at times he was still forced to break out of the reverie, left gasping for air, his pulse elevated, overcome by the dizzying heights of joy, despair, anger, and passion multiplied by uncountable sentients crowded or stranded on the Smuggler's Moon.

He was nineteen and looked it, but a lightsaber and the clothing of a Jedi—even a Jedi-in-progress—commanded respect, and the crowds dutifully let him through as he crossed the crowded main concourse of Mezenti Spaceport towards the landing pad on the other side.

It was empty when he arrived but for two Republic commandos standing guard in gleaming white armor, deadly weapons at hand. They regarded him cautiously, then saw the lightsaber on his belt and stood at ease. "Here for the shuttle?" one asked him as he approached. His helmet was larger than usual; there must have been an alien species underneath.

"That's right. Is it delayed?"

"For another hour or so. Might as well make yourself comfortable."

The Padawan looked around and saw nothing on the pad besides supply crates ready for loading and a droid working on electrical lines further away. A covered walkway extended away to a different wing of the spaceport and he walked over to it—hopefully there would be a lounge or some other seating area on the other side.

As was typical for Nar Shadaa, he was disappointed. The other wing was sparse and dimly-lit, with equipment scattered around and aged signs on the walls announcing a construction project that was likely never to see completion.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down it slowly until he was crouched on the floor. An hour, the commando had said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hesitantly reaching out to the Force for one last practice while he was alone…

"It's occupied."

The Padawan started and looked to his side. A young man was sitting in a shadowed corner of the room, just to the right of the hallway. He had been so still and so quiet that he hadn't noticed him as he entered, but now he saw faded, rumpled clothes hanging on a tall, gaunt frame; red hair tousled over a face pale as the stars. A face with the hint of a smile; his voice teasing.

"Maybe I'll just leave, then," the Padawan said nonchalantly. "Don't let me interrupt anything."

"Oh, there's nothing to interrupt," the redhead said, unfolding himself from his seated position and walking over next to the Jedi. "You don't look local. My name's Corbin." He extended a thin hand.

"I'm Milo." He shook the hand and felt a surprisingly strong grip—the kind of wiry strength reserved for those who scraped by rather than survived.

"Milo," Corbin repeated, and he smiled, liking the sound of it. He dropped down next to him and looked inquisitively over Milo's clothing. "You know, Jedi gear isn't as silly as I had heard."

"I'm so relieved. Have you met many?"

Corbin shook his head, sending a lock of hair onto his forehead. "You're the first."

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint—I'm still in training."

"I figured. You still seem to have some personality left—and you look too cute to be a full-time Jedi." Milo's face flushed red in spite of himself and Corbin saw it, and smiled again.

Next to him, under the faint overhead lights, Milo got a good look at his face for the first time. It was round and still boyish, though he could not have been any younger than he was. A delicate nose beneath two large green eyes that were older than the rest of the face, dulled by years of hard living.

"And what does that mean?"

"Oh, I've heard that after a while Jedi kind of lose a little something, you know? Enemies of fun and all that, marching around all serious and going on and on about the Force."

Milo laughed. "Well you're not wrong."

Corbin hesitated, biting lightly on his lower lip, curiosity written all over his face. "What…what's it like?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Force. Being able to feel it—you're probably the only Jedi I'm ever going to meet."

"A lot of Jedi pass through Nar Shadaa, actually," Milo said eagerly, then felt a ripple of impatience through the Force and realized he was answering the wrong question. He winced internally, then cleared this throat. "So, the Force."

What did the Force feel like? How could he explain living to one who was not?

"Think of it as…" he began, then stopped because he had no idea what to say next. After a moment, he tried again: "The Force is like breathing, like seeing. You look around and you see this room, you hear the air traffic outside, you can walk down to the concourse and see people all around. But with the Force, it's like there's…like there's something more, in addition to all that. Yeah, I can see and hear and feel the same things you do, but always there's this, this feeling of unity: I can see someone but also feel a reflection of their thoughts and feelings. And sometimes it can be overwhelming when there are so many people and so many emotions in one place, but there's no turning it off. Wherever I go, whatever I see, there's this undercurrent beneath all of it."

Milo realized that he been speaking very fast. He stopped and looked at Corbin for a reaction. For a moment, there was nothing, then Corbin let out something like a sigh and looked away dismally.

"You make it sound so…good. Something that changes how you perceive everything? Damn. And the rest of us will never know. I've never felt anything like that." His voice was bitter.

Milo said nothing, unsure of what to say. Almost hesitantly, he added, "And we get to have lightsabers." Corbin laughed and Milo was relieved, glad he was able to lighten the mood.

"Can I see it?" Corbin asked, gesturing to the hilt attached to Milo's belt. Milo smiled, slyly at first but getting broader as he unhooked the weapon from his belt and prepared to show someone else his favorite thing in the universe. He held the hilt in his outstretched arm, parallel to the floor, and suddenly the blade came to life in a flash of brilliant green. Corbin almost gasped, staring at the bright white core, his face illuminated by the green glow as he listened to the unmistakable power behind the hum that surrounded the lightsaber.

Milo looked at it too, almost entranced, because even now, every time he looked at the glowing blade was as if it were for the first time, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And in the back of his mind he could hear an echo of his own voice as he had set the pieces down on the ancient Forge on Tython. This weapon will be a light in the darkness.

The reverie lasted a few more moments before Milo pressed the activator again and the blade receded with a hiss. Corbin's eyes were still widened, dazzled by what he had seen. "That is amazing," he said. "And you know how to use it? How to fight with it?"

Milo gave a noncommittal shrug. "Pretty well, I guess. They start us with training lightsabers when we're very young. It's pretty hard, at first. It's not like you're swinging a vibrosword around."

"Oh, I hate vibroswords. Give me a blaster any day."

"Then I'll just deflect your bolts with my lightsaber and that will end things pretty quick, won't it?"

Corbin gave a sly smile. "I'm an excellent shot."

"I'm sure you are." Milo readjusted himself against the wall, wondering how much more time he had. "Tell me about yourself, Corbin."

"Me?" Corbin seemed surprised by the question. "There's nothing to say. Been on Nar Shadaa basically all my life."

"On the streets the whole time?" Milo was horrified.

"Yeah, pretty much." He brushed his hair back across his forehead. "But I'm making it."

"The cutest vagrant on Nar Shadaa," Milo said, smiling a little. Corbin threw him a sideways glance.

"Thanks. Every guy wants to hear that."

"I'm so glad."

Corbin was silent for a moment. "You know, that's the first time anybody's ever asked about me? You're different."

"Thanks?"

"No, really. You're…you're a good guy. Better than most."

Milo enjoyed that. After a moment he said, "Well, tell me more. I want to hear it."

Corbin seemed uncomfortable. "Let's not talk about me. There's nothing good or interesting there." He frowned, his eyes clouded with thought, but just as soon the moment had passed and he looked up eagerly. "It's not worth hearing when there's a Jedi around."

"We're not that impressive," Milo said.

He waved a hand and a power tool by the area under construction flew through the air, arced up towards the ceiling and then hit the floor with a loud and satisfying clatter. Corbin laughed. "Now you're just showing off."

"Hey, it's fun to meet someone who's never seen Force powers for a change. When you're surrounded by other Jedi and Padawans you feel a lot less impressive."

Corbin smiled. "And what else can you do?"

Milo thought for a second, then said "We can feel things, see things before they happen."

"Can you?" Corbin asked, contemplating the statement. "So then you know what happens next." And before Milo could answer he had leaned in and pressed his lips against his own. Suddenly there was only emotion, only passion, and even the Force was silent for a moment as this man became his whole galaxy. Milo reached his hands up, trembling, and set one on Corbin's shoulder, one behind his head, and pulled his body closer. Their lips parted for a moment. Milo leaned back breathing heavily, his heart pounding.

Corbin laughed and brushed away a strand of Milo's hair, then covered the Jedi's hand with his own. "Your face right now," he murmured. "I thought Jedi were supposed to know everything."

"We can still be surprised."

Smiling, Corbin leaned in and kissed Milo again, drawing it out into a long, languid movement, and when they broke away for a second time Milo could see the desire in Corbin's eyes.

"Listen," Corbin said, his voice urgent. "There's a place I know, not far. Where we…where we could…."

What? Milo thought, then realized what he was saying. "Oh." Nervousness creeped into his voice. Was this really happening? Was this what his Jedi training had been leading up to, aching for a moment of surrender, or would the Code stick in his mind, committing him to willpower and regret?

"Corbin," Milo began, and he moved aside to sit beside him. Still holding his hand, but there was no mistaking the disappointment that he—that both—of them felt. "Corbin," he repeated. I can still feel him kissing me. "Please understand, what just happened was…indescribable. But I'm with the Jedi Order. I don't think…." He trailed off.

Corbin looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Fine."

Milo's heart sank. "Corbin, please."

"No, don't worry about it," Corbin said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "I understand. Jedi are important, more important than anything else, apparently."

Milo said nothing, emotions still reeling from one extreme to another. Giddying highs of passion interchangeable with shock—did that really just happen? If his Master could see him now, could see how quickly he had thrown the Code out the window….

"At a loss for words, huh? I am good," Corbin said, and Milo laughed. He slid closer to him and slipped his arm under Corbin's, holding him close. For a moment, at least, he could be someone else, someone who wasn't compelled to bury all emotions. Or at least he could pretend. He could feel Corbin's hand lightly brushing against his own, and he closed his eyes, searching the man next to him through the Force, and lost himself in what he felt.

"Well Corbin, you have outdone yourself."

The voice came from behind, low and smooth but with a dangerous edge behind every word. Beside him, Corbin's body stiffened and Milo could feel a surge of anxiety pulsing through the Force. He turned and saw a man striding out from the shadowed hallway, six feet tall or more, with a powerful body packed into mean-looking clothes bristling with electronics. A gray duster trailed on the ground behind him as he walked, one hand resting on the hilt of a blaster, his face creased into a smirk beneath dark hair pulled back sleek and slick on his head.

"I'd just about given up on you, but a Jedi pup? Now that's a delivery."

Milo slid away from Corbin's side and stood, projecting self-confidence he did not feel. "Who are you?"

The man gave a smile that held little apparent joy. "Not important, kid. What you should be asking is who that is." He drew his blaster in one swift motion and gestured towards Corbin, still seated. Milo's fingers crept instinctively towards his lightsaber. "What did he tell you?" the man continued. "Did he explain how gutter trash like him can afford to get his fix every day?"

"Vance, wait a minute—," Corbin interrupted, his voice frantic, but Vance dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"That's enough out of you." He turned to face Milo, his posture almost welcoming. "Tell me, did your Jedi senses pick up the receiver in his pocket? Did the Force tell you when he keyed in his recognition code, called me over?"

Something deep inside his chest twisted and Milo turned and saw Corbin staring at the ground miserably. "Is this true?" he asked, his voice soft because he knew the truth but didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know that the boy with the beautiful eyes had shared a moment with him and made him feel…that for the sole purpose of handing him over to the man named Vance.

Corbin's lips moved as if to speak, but nothing came. He continued looking down, refusing to make eye contact, and for a moment Milo thought he could see his slim body tremble.

"Do you really need an answer at this point?" the man asked, relishing the moment.

Milo's lips curled into a scowl. "You're an Imperial, aren't you?"

Vance sighed. "And this is the Republic's finest. Slow on the uptake, aren't you kid? Now, hand it over."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Milo said, defiant. "Now I forget, do the Hutts care if an Imperial plant gets himself killed on Nar Shadaa?"

The humorless grin on Vance's face turned into something nasty. "Tough talk from the professional peacenik. Don't waste my time, boy: your master dropped you off at this spaceport two hours ago with a datapad of SIS reports on Hutt activity, so yes, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Give it to him," Corbin said, speaking for the first time. His voice was heavy, resigned. He got to his feet and stood off to the side, pressing against the wall as if for support. "Don't make this harder."

Milo fought down words and emotion, fingers clenching tightly around the lightsaber on his belt, forcing himself not to look at him. He continued to stare at Vance with cool detachment, hoping that the man couldn't sense the feelings of betrayal, frustration, and deep, wracking sadness bottled up within, barely contained.

"Walk away, Vance," Milo said steadily. "Tell whoever you report to that you missed me at the spaceport, and we all get to leave without any trouble."

"Not how this works," Vance said, his voice icy. He raised the blaster, a big, ugly contraption that resembled nothing Milo had ever seen before, and squared it with the Padawan's chest. "Something is leaving Nar Shadaa with me: you, or the datapad. Make your choice."

Milo simply shook his head. "Nobody threatens a Jedi."

Off to the side, Corbin sucked in his breath sharply, expecting blaster fire and death, but Vance was unimpressed. He was a professional and experienced enough not to get a rise out of uppity teenagers, and he simply flicked the safety off of the blaster and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

He said nothing, and Vance nodded in approval. "There isn't a good name for it so let's just call it an 'agitator'…it shoots out a burst of energy that'll light up everything in your body when it hits you. Can you imagine that, Jedi? Every muscle, every nerve, firing at once with no control over any of it?"

"Milo," Corbin said with anxiety in his voice. "Don't let him hurt you." Then, hesitantly: "Please."

The Jedi reached towards his belt slowly. Vance's finger curled around the trigger in case the kid was going to be cute about it and reach for the lightsaber, but to his relief he instead pulled out a datapad and held it out slightly, face expressionless.

"Thanks," Vance said, reaching for the datapad, but as he took the first step Milo's left land shot out and with a burst of Force energy sent him flying backwards and crashing into the floor.

The lightsaber sprang to life in a flash of green and Milo heard a snarled profanity followed by an explosive blast of white as Vance fired the agitator, but the man's aim was unsteady and he dodged the shot easily, closing the distance in two quick strides. Vance had gotten to his knees now, hand outstretched as he readied another a shot. Milo reached out with the Force, finding the contours of the agitator in Vance's hand, and wrenched it away, sending it skidding uselessly down the hall as he raised the lightsaber and brought the humming blade to inches away from Vance's throat.

Vance gave something between a laugh and a snarl. His face, illuminated by the green glow of the lightsaber, twisted in a scowl. "Tricky, tricky. I'll kill you for this, Jedi, you know that?"

Milo looked down at his prisoner with a smirk, triumph momentarily clouding other emotions as he heard pounding footsteps heading their way. "Try it, see how well that goes."

Two white-armored commandos, the ones who had been watching the launch pad, entered the room, took in the situation and trained their weapons on the man on the floor. The one closest to Milo turned a helmeted head in his direction.

"Apprentice. What happened?"

Milo retracted the lightsaber blade with a hiss and clipped the hilt back to his belt. "This man is a Sith agent. He tried to take an SIS datapad from me." He looked down at Vance, unable to resist. "He was unsuccessful."

The other commando lifted Vance to his feet and none-too-gently forced him into a pair of binders. "Vance Krell," he said, and Milo could hear the satisfaction in his voice even through the modulated tones of the helmet comlink. "Told you I'd be there when you slipped up." He gave Vance a shove and motioned for his partner to follow. "Let's get him back to base for questioning."

The first commando nodded, then gestured towards Corbin, standing silent and afraid on the other side of the room. "The transient," he asked. "Was he involved?"

Milo hesitated for a moment. A Jedi should speak the truth, no matter the consequences. No matter what they would prefer. "No," he said. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Corbin let out his breath in a hiss of relief. The commando nodded in recognition. "Got it. Apprentice, you'd better get on the next ship out, shuttle or not. Vance could have told his friends about you."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Milo said. "I certainly will." The commandos left, pushing and shoving Vance to get him to follow along as they did. Milo waited until they were gone before turning around and facing Corbin.

"Thank you," Corbin said lamely. "For not telling them the truth. If you…if I…I don't know what would happen to me. You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

Corbin paused, hurting on the inside because in the Jedi's eyes there was no more intimacy, only sadness. "Look," he said. "I…I meant everything I said to you. And I still do, Milo. You can't believe what Vance said…just believe me. Please."

Milo said nothing. Pushing his thoughts aside, he felt Corbin's energy through the Force, sensing it with renewed scrutiny. He felt the confused tumult of Corbin's emotions and searched through them, looking for what was real. And finding his answer, he exhaled slowly.

"Take care of yourself, Corbin."

Even without trying to, he could feel the twinge in the Force. He felt aching regret and pain, unsure of how much was his own, how much he was sensing, but certain that the question would be one he would ask himself often.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" Corbin asked, hope in his voice. His large green eyes heavy with longing.

"No," Milo said. "You won't." And he turned away and walked back towards the spaceport.