Knights of the Ancient Republic: Green Coruscant

by Daniel Scott Goldberg

It is 25,000 BBY. In a race against time, Jedi Knight Lan Hewan seeks to defeat a shadowy enemy that is defending the last remaining forest on the city-planet of Coruscant and marry the woman he loves against the wishes of the Jedi Council.

STAR WARS:

Knights of the Ancient Republic:

Green Coruscant

2010 Daniel S. Goldberg

Prologue:

25,052 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)

Ossus. Verdant green Ossus. Unknown Ossus. Two small figures moved over its moonlit landscape, darting quickly to seek shelter in a grove of trees to avoid being detected by who-knows-what occupying the night skies searching for a morsel or a meal on the ground below.

The figures were swathed in brown cloaks to protect them from the autumn cold, their long green ears poking from above their pulled-back hoods. As they moved, their large eyes darted back and forth, looking for danger. Their green, thick three-fingered hands gripped their walking sticks, their only weapons.

One, with long black hair pulled back in a bun behind her wide head, spoke quietly. "I believe we shall find what we need in these woods ahead."

The other, with a shock of brown hair growing between his constantly moving ears, replied, "Feel it, I can. The last ingredient, in these woods it is."

Some who would see them would name them Whills, an ancient race many in the galaxy believed watched and recorded all of the history of sentient life. But they were not Whills. In fact, they themselves searched for that ancient race, to commune with them and learn the mysteries of the power that bound all life in the galaxy together, that power known to them only as the Force. Now on this forlorn planet they sought evidence that that power could be harnessed and employed by ones such as themselves. Harnessed and employed for good.

No, they were not Whills. They came from a planet far removed from the hyperlanes piloted by intrepid explorers using newly developed hyperdrive technology; a planet only discovered by explorers who had strayed off course. Those explorers were often conscripted into service as transportation for members of their unnamed race, transportation to regions of the galaxy where the Force was strongest and could be investigated. Strangely, these explorers never remembered where they had found the little aliens' homeworld.

In this way, the two figures that now wandered Ossus had made their way to this unexplored planet, a planet extraordinarily strong in the Force.

What they sought now was a mushroom of powerful mind-altering properties, a mushroom that when mixed with the other ingredients they had collected and then ingested would open their minds to the potentialities of the living Force. Not just theory, but the energy-field itself.

This mushroom could only be found at night, for it had the peculiar property of sinking into the loam of the forest during the day, to protect itself from the withering sun. At night it appeared, glowing softly with green luminescence.

"Found it, I have!" exclaimed the short-haired creature. He pointed with his walking stick at a small clump of the glowing mushrooms that had unfolded at the base of a gigantic tree. The two small creatures shuffled forward and harvested the mushrooms.

Then they made a fire, and put on a kettle, and filled this kettle with the many ingredients they had collected in their wandering on Ossus. Last to go into the pot were the glowing mushrooms. As large three-fingered hands tossed them in, a green glow reached up into the boughs of the woods and a warm heat emanated that was not of the fire.

"Drink it first, shall I, Yadla?" asked the short-haired, green creature.

"As you wish, Yeda," answered the female.

An hour later, the two beings were seated in the clearing of the wood, their stubby legs crossed, their backs straight, their hands on their knees, their large eyes shut, the faintest hint of a smile on their lips. They were deep in meditation, not knowing what to expect. Within their stomachs roiled the potion they had concocted. They fought back nausea with the hope that the mind-opening properties of the potion would find its way into their bloodstream and open their minds; open what some would call their souls.

Suddenly, the one known as Yeda jerked open his eyes and stared about himself wildly. An energy coursed through his body that could not be contained by the most diligent meditation.

"Feel that, do you, Yadla?" he croaked.

"I feel nothing. Perhaps you are more attuned to the Force. I feel…" and then her eyes tore open as well.

All about them, on every branch, every trunk, every leaf, every brown pathway, were green, curling letters. An ancient text that they could not read. It stretched beyond the grove of trees they sat in, across the plain that they had crossed to reach this place, up and over the lush hills beyond.

The two small, bewildered creatures staggered to their feet, shakily reached for their walking sticks, and stared wildly at the glowing green letters.

"I cannot read this, but here and there I see a word I recognize!" gasped Yadla.

"Yes, here achbut is, here ogbon, but the rest, I cannot…" and then Yeda suddenly stopped speaking.

"What is it? What?" asked Yadla, as Yeda grew very quiet and pensive as he scratched a piece of forest floor with his stick.

He turned his head, his eyes growing wide with wonder. "The word for peace, I see everywhere. Jedi."

c. 25,010 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)

Tython. Ruined Tython. Deep in the Core of the Galaxy. A group of cowled figures broke camp, casting a worried look at the glowing horizon from time to time. A hundred meters from their camp sat a squat, brown, beetle-shaped spacecraft that would take them from this planet.

In a hut on the other side of the camp was a forge, with an ancient but sturdy anvil and an atomic furnace. One of the group of cowled men stopped and looked longingly in the direction of the hut. "Is there nothing we can bring of my tools, my forge?" he pleaded.

"Arnas, we must remove you from this place as rapidly as possible. Too much is at stake. The Bogan can return at any time, and our numbers are too depleted. Too many of us have already pulled back to…"

"Yes, yes," snapped the one known as Arnas Exor, irritably. "I know what is at stake. But you have no idea what it is to be a weapon-master with no forge."

"You shall have another forge on Corellia, I promise," gasped the other as he lifted an unusually large crate. "This shall not do." He put the crate down, extended an open hand, closed his eyes, and the crate floated by its own volition from the camp in the direction of the waiting spacecraft.

In this manner the cowled men, who were Jedi, veterans of the Force wars on Tython, quietly but quickly went about the business of breaking camp and loading what they could into the waiting spacecraft, always keeping an eye on the horizon.

Finally Exor the weapon-master broke the silence by muttering, "You'd think with the war won we wouldn't have to worry about their accursed raiders breaking through our pickets."

The other spoke, "Perhaps we have won the war but not the battle?"

"Very amusing Trellas, but this planet has proven much too costly to hold. We should let the Bogans have this ill-starred place."

"You'll be on Corellia soon, Arnas. Peace, brother, help me load this crate."

"Very well, if we concentrate together we should…" He broke off as the entire group heard an ominous but familiar sound, the sound of heavy, fast war beasts moving in their direction.

"So much for the pickets," mumbled Exor.

With lightning swiftness, cloaks flew off and dark swords were drawn, scimitars sharpened and hardened by the Force to a supernatural degree. The group of Jedi, five strong, faced the figures that were growing larger against the horizon by the second.

"I count four Bogans, two on each war beast," shouted Trellas.

"You always had superior eyes," hissed Arnas Exor.

"Here they come!" cried Trellas.

Within an instant the world was a maelstrom of sound and fury: the clashing of arms, the cries of the wounded, the roaring of the great feline war beasts. Arnas concentrated on the task in front of him, shutting out all extraneous stimuli, so that he could separate these Bogans from their lives. Each war beast had a great saddle mounted on its back that sloped upwards in the front to form a sort of shield for the forward rider, one of whom currently had a long pike aimed directly at Arnas' heart. Behind him rode another warrior holding a scimitar, leaning down to slash at him.

The giant cat swiped at him with one deadly claw. Arnas leapt to the left, planted his feet and swung his scimitar to the left, cutting the pike in half. With a back swing he removed the pike-holder's hand from his arm. He then turned his attention to the scimitar bearing down on his neck. Swinging to the left and above he met the blade with his own, and then sliced to the right, severing the rider's right leg. Using the power of Ashla to assist him, he leapt in the air and kicked out at the injured rider, sending him flying off the saddle. He landed on the back of the war beast, at the same time swinging his scimitar to the right in a wide backhand, neatly removing the front rider's head. With a mental push he toppled that headless body off of the surging cat's back. Then, deciding he couldn't balance on the wildly undulating back of the giant cat much longer, he leapt once more in the air and brought his blade straight down with a two-handed grip, splitting the war beast's head in two. It was dead before it had time to roar in pain.

Arnas leapt nimbly to the ground as the beast's body toppled in a skidding crash of dust and debris. He looked around and saw that the other mount had been dealt with rather efficiently by the other four…where was the fourth…Trellas?

"Trellas!" cried Arnas, rushing to the side of his fallen comrade. A long pike protruded from the blood-soaked robe covering his belly. Arnas grabbed the pike while looking around for water to give his injured comrade, all the time meaning to pull the pike free.

"Arnas, no!" croaked Trellas. "It will hurt…too much. I am already dead."

"No…"

"Arnas, listen…." This now a whisper, so Arnas leaned closer. "The plans…for the weapons…do not let them fall…into…the wrong hands…"

Arnas slumped back on his heels. His eyes welled with tears. How many battles had he fought with Trellas, here on doomed Tython? How many times had he forged a new blade when Trellas would come, sheepishly, into camp with a hopelessly battered scimitar?

"Arnas, there is no emotion, only….peace…" Trellas' eyes closed.

"I don't think we've seen the end of the Dark Siders," mumbled Benan, one of the other Jedi, as he poked with his sword at the body of the rider who Arnas had separated from his leg and had consequently bled to death rather quickly.

"When they do come," hissed Arnas, "I'll have something for them." He stood up, defiantly, and then his shoulders slumped as he looked down at the body of his friend.

"Come, Jedi," said Arnas, "Assist me."

The four remaining Jedi stood in a square around the fallen Jedi's body, reached out with their hands, and lifted him with the power of Ashla, which would soon be known in the wider Galaxy as the Light Side of the Force, from the ground. Then, moving with his body suspended between them, they marched grimly up the ramp into their ship and shut the door behind them.

Star Wars: Knights of the Ancient Republic: Green Coruscant

Approximately 25,000 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)

Hyperspace.

Improved hyperspace travel has

connected far-flung worlds. The Diaspora

of humanity that had left in colony ships hundreds

of years before return in droves to their origin, Coruscant,

bringing tales of strange and beautiful parts of the galaxy. The seeds of a

Galactic Republic are sown in this time, with the Galactic Senate located on Coruscant itself.

To accommodate the influx of immigrants, the last great forest of the home world, the 'Lungs of Coruscant', are being razed day by day, kilo acre by kilo acre. Eco-terrorists who fiercely oppose this destruction have allied themselves with a dangerous and shadowy ally.

The nascent Republic turns to the Jedi, a monastic order boasting some of the galaxy's greatest warriors, to help fight this menace. The Jedi, fresh from a devastating conflict on Tython, agree to help safeguard the Republic in exchange for a new Jedi Temple to be built near the Senate.

One:

c. 25,000 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)

Coruscant. Atop the giant forest known only as the 'Lungs of Coruscant', for it had been the only source of oxygen for the planet's occupants for millennia, as the city crawled over its surface.

A man, clad in dark robes and his face smeared with dark pigment, turned over with a sigh in his blind at the very top of one of the tallest trees, a wide-boughed etan tree, a kilometer from where Forest met city, dropping his binoculars to his side in the giant nest he had built. He drew his robes closer against the chill morning air. In the sky, the smallest of Coruscant's five moons, Settius, was still dimly visible as the white sun rose.

If one could see his face, one would be struck by its disconcerting, preternatural beauty: blue eyes, blond hair combed back over his head, an almost lordly air of arrogance with a trace of viciousness, of callousness that belonged in the tower of one of Coruscant's most wealthy, not a forest. But he had never seen his own face, and he didn't care what he looked like. What he cared about was this forest and what was being done to it, to his home.

He was known in his tribe, with a small modicum of humor, as the "great pink hope". When the man known only as Revenant plucked him from his humble tribal life, Revenant asked the young man his name. "I bezel'um – Ranger," he spoke in broken Basic.

"But surely you must have a name," said Revenant, a trace of an unseen smile in his voice, for his entire body was swathed in dark robes. It would be much later that Revenant would reveal his true, horrific appearance…

"No, no name. Bezel'um. Ranger."

He had earned the moniker as a youth, for his ability to wander the dangerous forest unharmed, to commune with the trees, to kill when he had to hunt for food, using only a sharpened tree limb to impale vicious spider-lions or docile Akash, to bring food to his tribe. But no one knew his true name or who had left him in the forest to die as a toddler. The tribe had found him and made him one of its own, ignoring the lack of dark pigmentation in his skin.

The "great pink hope". That was what he was. For now that hyperspace travel had opened the galaxy to those who wanted to travel interstellar distances in a matter of days rather than centuries, the world had gone truly mad. Settlers were arriving in the millions, billions, on Coruscant. They believed it to be the home-world of humanity, of the many who were descended from those who had left in "sleeper" ships that finally arrived at far flung planets such as Corellia, Chandrila, Alderaan, and others, centuries before. And they believed it would be where they would make their new life, or their fortune, in the center of the new Galactic Republic.

For a Galactic Republic was inexorably forming, growing out of a loose Interstellar Confederacy. And while many extolled its virtues, the government was turning a blind eye to the horrors that were being perpetrated on Ranger's home, the Forest, the 'Lungs of Coruscant.' New atmospheric-scrubbing technology was being touted as the replacement for the need of trees to clean Coruscant's atmosphere, and so the Forest was being razed to create gigantic living structures for the new immigrants.

Only the natives, and those who took up the ecological cause, who some called "eco-terrorists", stood between the forest and utter desolation.

He smiled and reached down to his belt, to feel the cold metal cylinder hanging there. He rubbed his finger over the switch placed within thumbs reach when the cylinder was gripped like the hilt of a blade. "They shall see what I can give to them," he whispered to no one in particular.

Then, with another sigh, for he hated the waiting, he rolled back on his belly, raised binoculars to his eyes, and observed the plumes of steam that were arising between the forest and the city beyond. The loggers. Dawn was rising and the logging was to begin again, as it did every morning. The line of steam extended for as far as the eye could see in both directions. Beyond that line, Ranger could see the massive pit where the new Senate building, and maybe a new Jedi temple, would be constructed, a pit a kilometer wide and long.

Off to the side, he knew, obscured by the steam, were the current Senate building and Jedi Temple. Both were on a smaller scale than the proposed structures, yet still quite large, the Jedi Temple still under construction, both standing on a plaza unwisely located near an unlogged part of the great Forest.

The Jedi. His master, Revenant, had taught him that these were the ones he should hate the most. For although they spoke of peace, of justice, they turned a blind eye to the suffering of the Forest and its people and creatures. They spoke of the Force, but had no conception of the true nature of the Force, what they called the Dark Side in their ignorance. For all the Dark Side truly was, was what he had felt since his youth. The passion and energy and life force that flowed through both the darkness and the light of the Forest and of his very being.

And Revenant was teaching him how to harness that power, how to channel it into a precise fury, with which he would destroy the Jedi, destroy the Republic, and save the Forest.

Morning was coming quickly, and he would soon need to join his forces, the "eco-terrorists", and visit destruction on the loggers once again. He smiled. Then the smile vanished, for he felt a disturbance in the Force, a warning similar to those that had saved his life many times since childhood. He reached for his lightsaber, cursing the noisy whine as he plugged in the cylinder by a cord to the power pack on his hip. Then he focused his attention on the Force…

Two:

Ranger immediately spied what the Force had alerted him to, and his heart trilled with the danger. A diamond-shaped flight of hook-beak Trantcills, massive flying beasts, the apex predator of Coruscant. All wing and claws, they scanned the Forest heights with their expressionless, flat, heartless black eyes, searching for movement, for a meal. More and more, their habitat was being encroached upon by the growing city, and so their flights were become more common over the remaining forest where Ranger made his home. This flight was probably flying south, for winter was coming here, slightly north of Coruscant's cool equator, inadequately warmed by the small white sun.

Ranger felt the first tingling of fear, of terror, and unlike a Jedi, he did nothing to quench these emotions. Rather, he allowed them to blossom into anger, rage that his life could be taken in so meaningless a way, and as the anger blossomed, so did his connection with the Dark Side of the Force. He turned on his side, pulling one arm over himself, and as he did so, the Force became a hiding place, a dark murky covering to all appearances consisting of leaves and branches and creeping vines. He peered between the gaps in the covering at the Trantcills, to see if his illusion was effective. For a moment it appeared as if the flying beasts would pass him by, but then his heart felt as if it had stopped beating for an instant, as the head of one of the flyers turned and stared impassively directly at him. It turned its wings and dropped out of formation, preparing to dive directly at Ranger's treetop nest.

He knew what he had to do now. His lightsaber gave him the means to survive, if he was strong enough in the Force. He lay on his back, and held the cylinder to his chest, his thumb on the power switch. He knew from having observed these flying killers that it would enter a steep dive, flattening out at the last minute to snatch its prey with gigantic talons. At that precise moment, he would have to activate his lightsaber and spear it directly through the heart, hoping its mass would not completely topple him and his nest from the treetops as it died.

He gathered all his focus, all his concentration. The Dark Side whirled around him in dark currents and eddies, pulling life force from the Forest to his aid. And then there was quiet, and clarity, and he knew he had the focus to keep his blade intact and his aim true.

The Trantcill was now diving, screaming through Coruscant's chilly atmosphere, aiming directly at where Ranger was lying with his eyes wide with anticipation. He let the illusion that was covering him fade, knowing that it was not fooling anything. The Force was showing him the beast's gigantic beating red heart, as if he could see through its skin. The side of his mouth curled into a cruel smile. It was all a matter of timing…

Closer it came, faster and blindingly faster. Then, now! It flattened its dive and extended its claws. Its massive wings blotted out the sun, the roar of wind battering Ranger's ears.

"DIE!" screamed Ranger as he thrust his arms out, thumbed the lightsaber to life, and concentrated all his powers on maintaining the blade. The beam erupted from the cylinder, a thin golden shaft over a meter long, piercing the Trantcill directly through its heart. Its wings collapsed as it careened over the edge of Ranger's nest, crashing into the treetops behind his head. All manner of animals screamed and whooped as they attempted to escape being crushed or thrown to the forest floor, glow monkeys and hawk bats, and who knows what other tree-dwelling wildlife.

Ranger quickly thumbed off the blade, and the brilliant golden shaft sputtered and died. He glanced quickly at the rest of the diamond-shaped flight of Trantcills. They continued aloof and unaware on their way. "Heartless bastards," muttered Ranger.

He rolled on his side and blew out a sigh of relief. He looked behind him and saw the cracked and ruined branches mingled with the cracked and ruined wings of the mighty flier. Ah well. Another test passed. That got my blood going! he thought.

He gathered himself and began to climb down the tree to the forest floor. It was time to join the eco-terrorists and bring the fight once more to the loggers.

Three:

It was a chilly, beautiful morning, and Lomas stood on the deck of one of the immense logging machines he would pound into the edge of the forest. Several meters high, it shone with white paint. From the front, facing the Forest, sprouted a pair of gigantic cutting mandibles. Steam rose in the crisp morning air from the exhaust on top of the housing. Next to the exhaust sat a sturdy cabin. A walkway extended completely around the machine save for the front, wide enough for three loggers to stand on side by side. He stood now on this walkway, near the redundant set of controls that controlled the machine and the fuel cell that was the catalyst for the joining and superheating of oxygen and hydrogen that powered the machine with steam. In an hour would follow the gigantic crane-trucks, to carry away the felled trees for processing.

A veteran of the Force wars on Tython, Lomas liked to think of himself as more capable than the average logger of sensing the danger they faced on an almost regular basis now from the natives and eco-terrorists in the woods. There had even been reports of a Bogan or two, although how reliable those reports were, he couldn't guess.

On Tython, it was ascertained that he had some small ability in the Force, so he had been trained up, sent to the front lines, and acquitted himself well. Then when the war ended, he was cut loose to find his fortune on his own. After a variety of odd jobs, he had found himself on the front lines of another war, this for the last remaining forest on a planet rapidly become one gigantic city.

This morning seemed rather more peaceable that usual, so after a few tense moments, he brayed the all-clear signal from the horn on his logging machine.

Then he heard the cries, and looked down the line at the machines closest to him. To his dismay he saw one logger, then another, cut down by arrows. Most likely Lommite-tipped. Natives. And where there were natives, eco-terrorists sporting slug throwers and RPWs – Repeating Projectile Weapons - and even Bogans weren't far behind. He ran to the back of his machine even as he saw other engines rumbling out of control, their controls set to go before their drivers were cut down. He reached down in the back of his machine for his slug throwing rifle, and stood up to run to the front and see if he couldn't pick off a few of the bastards.

As he turned with the weapon in his hands, he saw a flash of light, and stared at his rifle, which had been severed cleanly in half. A Bogan stood on the walkway with him!

This Bogan was swathed in dark robes, his face smeared with dark camouflaging pigment, and sported a weapon Lomas had heard of only in a few apocryphal reports here and there in taverns: a lightsaber. The Bogan had a vicious snarl that twisted his face. Now it slashed again and again, but grew seemingly more frustrated with each slash as Lomas dodged every blow. For one of the logger's abilities, discovered by the Jedi on Tython, was precognizance. He could anticipate where an opponent's blow or shot was coming from before it happened. It had kept him alive on Tython, and he needed it now. He wasn't fast enough to fight the Bogan, but he could stay out of its reach. The question was: for how long?

Lomas couldn't reach his ax. That was out of the question. It was attached on the other side of his logging machine. Was he willing to give his life to rid his fellow loggers of this curse, this Bogan?

The answer came as he glanced into the feral face of his adversary while he moved side to side, jumped up and ducked down, growing ever more tired.

He had to act now. The fuel cell was on this side, and a direct strike by the lightsaber would probably ignite it, incinerating both himself and, hopefully, the Bogan.

He inched closer and closer to where the fuel cell jutted slightly from the side of the logging machine a meter and a half above the walkway. Directly at chest level. The Bogan had no idea what he was doing, for it was moving with him, slashing and thrusting, unable to more than graze a shoulder or burn a hole in his tunic.

Now he was standing directly in front of the fuel cell. As he hoped, the Bogan leapt in front of him, standing on the edge of the walkway, its back to the railing.

"Bye bye Bogan," smiled Lomas.

The Bogan's features grew quizzical, but then it snarled and thrust its lightsaber through Lomas' chest. Release from life was immediate.

Ranger had only a brief instant of warning to throw up a Force shield in front of himself, but even so, his lightsaber was vaporized along with the logger he impaled and half of the logging machine they stood on, and he was thrown 10 meters, landing roughly on the edge of a gigantic tree stump. He moaned and reached back to rub his back where he had landed, feeling something broken, but at that moment, his world became a white blinding pain. Something, perhaps a piece of metal that had been thrown airborne by the exploding logging machine, had landed directly on the left side of his face, searing his flesh.

Ranger wanted to grab his face, touch it, stop the pain, anything. He felt the metal peel from his face, and then he felt nothing anymore on the left half of his face, except a radius around where the object had landed that still burned and blistered terribly. He had to get away, find help, stop the pain. He grabbed handfuls of damp forest loam and smashed them against his face, but they barely cooled the radius of pain. Then he got on his knees and jammed his face into the ground. He felt little relief. Got to get out of here now! he thought as he heard distant cries grow closer.

He heard someone yell Bogan. How he hated that word. But that thought barely registered now through the horror of his injury. He scrambled to his knees and headed off in the direction of the woods, so afraid that he was blinded that he kept his eyes tightly shut. It hurt.

He ran into a tree, put his hands out and ran to the side, and stumbled deeper into the unharvested woods, trying to use the Force to avoid tripping or running into more trees. The voices behind him grew less clear, when suddenly strong arms grabbed his biceps and pulled him into what seemed like some form of hollow. He struggled, ready to fight the last fight of his life, when he heard the voice of one of his tribesmen.

"Bezel'um, the spirit of pain is great in you. We shall take you to the healers."

Ranger nodded, moaned, and leaned against his rescuers as he passed out from the pain.

Four:

The old Coruscant Senate sat on a wide plaza that was bordered by huge skyscrapers on three sides, and a nature preserve, connected by a thin line of hilly, winding tree growth to the 'Lungs of Coruscant', on its Southern side. Between the preserve and the Senate, the new rotund Jedi Temple, a satellite to the temple on Tython, was under construction, amongst a grove of trees extending from the preserve and ringing the structure on all sides but North.

Construction of the Temple was a concession to that odd order known as the Jedi, in exchange for future services as some sort of security force, now that the threat of terrorism was growing greater on the city-planet. There was even talk of their serving in an advisory capacity to the Chancellor, using their connection to a mysterious power called the Force to enable them to direct him on the best course of action in trying times.

In eventuality, gigantic new Temple and Senate buildings were already proposed by forward-thinking builders, to be built further to the West, the construction currently consisting of nothing but a kilometer-wide pit.

The old Senate building itself resembled a gigantic temple, of granite blocks and large columns around all sides, with statues of ancient heroes of Coruscant standing in the gaps between each column. Great steps led up the front of the structure, then led back down inside towards an opening to a large interior building on ground level where the Senate met. Tourists from all parts of Coruscant and other planets in the galaxy milled around the great front steps and around the columns, gazing in awe at the giant structure and ancient statues, taking pictures, and reading plaques detailing the ancient Senate's history.

Inside a great debate raged, fueled by the latest eco-terrorist attack.

The Senate chambers resembled a large amphitheater, the light shining in from large vertical windows amplified by electrical torches. A raised dais occupied the center of the Senate floor, surrounded by concentric steps, each step containing comfortable seats and desks for Senators from Corellia, Chandrila, Alderaan, and other human colonies. Above that seating, behind a wooden partition, sat the representatives from alien species: ivory-skinned Tallians, their long, jet-black hair cascading down from the tops of their heads; snout-nosed D'Jenni; tall, thin, blue-skinned Duros; and others, all segregated visibly from the humans.

Currently, portly Senator Wreth from Coruscant, wearing the traditional white robe of the Senate, was bellowing and slamming his fist on the wooden dais for effect.

"These latest 'eco-terrorist' attacks leave no doubt that serious security measures must be taken if our proposed Republic is to survive its infancy. My proposed bill will allocate resources for more security forces, for soldiers, for monitoring equipment."

"And of course, these resources will come from the complete destruction of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'," spoke senator Tedek of Southern Coruscant, "from strip mining. Did you really think these riders would pass unexamined? They are here for all to see, my esteemed colleague from Eastern Coruscant."

"It is time to examine the value of the careful cultivation of our resources against the value of a few trees," sputtered Wreth. "And," he raised his hand as Tedek started to speak, "it is not as if we are erasing the wildlife from existence. There is the gigantic new zoo being built on the western equator; there is even a wildlife preserve right here on the edge of the Senate plaza, by the new Jedi Temple!"

"Zoos! Wildlife preserves? Has my esteemed colleague gone completely mad? You are speaking of the destruction of the homes of native forest dwellers, and of the eradication of species of animals and who knows what plant life that still may yield many medical benefits!"

"Senator Tedek, this is a new era. Every day millions of immigrants flood our spaceports. They seek new lives, they seek work. Lommite and Cortosis have been found in abundance where the Lungs stand, and loggers are needed as well as miners. We are talking about the creation of countless jobs and giant modern living quarters for our new citizens, for our new Republic. Where will the resources come from to pay for this new Republic? Shall we pluck the credits from the air?" mused Wreth to the amused laughter of a few of the assembled Senators.

"Typical Coruscanti, always counting his credits to the exception of all other considerations", snarled Tedek, and the chamber erupted with outcries from various pro-business factions.

"Your insults show that you don't have a leg to stand on, Tedek!" shouted Wreth. "The truth is, you are outnumbered. The Galactic Republic is set to launch a new era of prosperity, and we all need to make sacrifices. Look who protect this forest: terrorists and killers. Perhaps even Bogans. We even," he raised his voice above the murmurs, "we even require the aid of the unknown quantity known as the Jedi just to protect ourselves!"

Wreth paused and smirked in triumph as Tedek appeared somewhat cowed.

He continued. "This bill contains all the measures, all the resources this new Republic needs to deal with the threat of terrorism, and to ensure financial stability, so that our new Galactic Republic is not delivered still-born. I demand a vote as quickly as possible, and I implore my esteemed colleagues that you see the wisdom of my proposed measures!"

There was more murmuring. Then one representative from Corellia began to clap slowly, and slowly, the chamber filled with the clapping and cries of hear, hear among the din. Wreth smirked in triumph, as Tedek slumped heavily in his seat and pondered what, if anything, could be done to avert this ecological disaster.

As the din subsided, Wreth spoke once more, this time in a quieter, more reverential tone. "It is time we hear from Chancellor Ulmas, before we put this issue to a vote, as is outlined in article 5, section 34 of the articles of our Confederacy. Chancellor?"

A thin, graying man in a white robe stood from a raised platform behind the dais.

Five:

Chancellor Ulmas stood at the dais, shakily holding its dark etan-wood rails, surveying the dark Senate hall with his flinty eyes. The promise of a new Republic, of an era of unsurpassed prosperity and peace, of completion of a new Constitution, all these hung in the balance in his mind. How much had he seen in his long years of service to Coruscant? The perfection of the hyperdrive, the discovery of new planets colonized long ago by explorers who had left this very planet in sleeper ships, the financial and security demands of the massive influx of immigrants from those planets once safe hyper-lanes had been established. All this he had presided over. Some whispered he was over a hundred and fifty years old, kept alive by the best in medical technology his fortune could buy.

Now new challenges arose almost daily. He had to collect his thoughts, bring some order to the chaos that was the Senate.

"Esteemed colleagues," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Esteemed colleagues.

"I love the natural resource that is the 'Lungs of Coruscant' as much as any man. As a youth, I would often go on journeys into that dark wood as an anthropology student at the Coruscant University, before I decided to go into public service. A magical place, it was to me.

"But my responsibilities now lie with a greater truth. True, the Forest provides us with air. But new atmospheric-scrubbing technology shall ensure that the exhalations of a trillion people and a million factories will never choke our children.

"It is true that the Lungs are a wild, wonderful natural resource. But we must think of the responsibilities we have to the billions, trillions who wish to make their fortune on this planet, in this someday Republic. They need a place to live. They need a place to work. We need money," here a murmur of disapproval rose from some sections, "we need money for a military, for security, for a vital economy. I have heard the arguments of moderate environmentalists, and their truth strikes at my heart. But I cannot join such a minority when the needs of the many are much greater.

"They say our planet, our city-planet, looks like a Coruscanti gem when it glows in space." Here his eyes grew momentarily misty and distant. Then, in an instant they snapped back to their keen sharpness as he continued. "That is where it got its name. Because the city-planet glows like a gem. It is our destiny," here another murmur, "our destiny to become the greatest city planet ever known, the crown jewel of the Galactic Republic. And anything that stands in the way of that destiny must be dealt with. Yes, carefully and judiciously, but also firmly. For the sake of our children, and our children's children, so that they will have a future in the Republic.

"I call for a vote on Senator Wreth's anti-terrorism bill, with the economic riders in place. That is my final decision."

And without a further word, Chancellor Ulmas stepped down from the dais and made his way back to his place.

Six:

The eco-terrorist medics, Revenant, and a tribal healer were assembled in a medic's tent in a wide clearing in the great Forest. A pale figure lay on a cot, his face swathed in bandages, his torso bandaged, an intravenous drip providing him with nourishment, but no painkillers or other medicine.

"He seems to have gone into some sort of meditative trance, sir. His healing is proceeding at a remarkably accelerated rate," spoke the medic, an ironic man with ruffled, graying hair and a lanky build.

"Ah yes, my student is strong in the Force," spoke the one known as Revenant, his unseen eyes glowing red beneath the black robes that completely covered his body, "He is in a healing trance. When he is ready he shall awake. Tell me what you have done yourself to heal him."

"We removed the burned necrotic tissue, and the tribal healers did remarkable things…remarkable, with the burns."

The medic motioned to the tribal medicine man in the corner of the tent, who was sitting cross legged and observing non-plussed. His dark face was decorated with sworls of white paint, and hanging from his neck was a necklace of spider-lion claws. A gigantic Trantcill beak lay across his lap.

Revenant would have raised an eyebrow if one were visible. "Where?" he said, motioning to the medicine man.

"Seems that Ranger offed one of the Trantcills before the mission this morning. Told the elders where to find it before he was injured."

"I see," chuckled Revenant.

"When he's healed a bit more, we're going to perform a skin graft from a donor part of his body, but he's lost his left eye. Other than that, I think he's going to pull through fine. He had some broken ribs that seem to be healing through this trance." The medic shook his head in wonder, then proceeded, "But the burn was a terrible shock to his system."

"Thank you, doctor. Keep me informed of his progress. I cannot emphasize enough," and here he paused, "how important Ranger is to our cause. He must recover soon."

"Yes sir," said the medic, snapping to attention.

"Very well," said Revenant, and drifted out of the tent.

Outside the tent, the clearing was abuzz with activity. Great etan trees sheltered eco-terrorists and natives alike from detection from above, while sentries bearing slug throwers or RPWs stood all around the clearing peering into the dense underbrush for intruders. Tents stood a meter apart, and at the edge of the giant clearing stood jumpers used to transport fighters to various hot zones where they were needed. Natives sat on the ground in close circles, sharpening bone blades or Lommite tips for arrows.

Revenant found the tent where the eco-terrorists' leader, Rain Or, was holding council with his lieutenants and the Chief of the natives.

"Sir Revenant, I am very pleased to see you," exhaled Rain Or in relief. He was a thin, non-descript man with short red hair and a trimmed auburn beard. His watery brown eyes were full of the simpering weakness of a man dedicated to an idealist's cause, thought Revenant. "Your assistance is greatly needed. I am sorry", here Or's voice dropped, "about your…student?"

"He will be well soon," snapped Revenant. "We Bogans have abilities you could only dream about."

"Yes, well, we have been taking heavy losses in the past few days. It seems Coruscant is devoting more security forces to the incursions into our woods. And with this new anti-terrorism bill soon to be passed in the Senate, I believe the days ahead will grow more difficult. We must strike decisively, and soon!" And I shall use you, you foolish relic of Tython, to get what we want. The Forest back.

"I know of what you speak, and the time is coming soon, Rain Or, soon. We shall halt our operations at the edge of the Forest for now. Consolidate our forces for the great attack." Revenant chuckled, a dry laugh that sounded like the wind blowing in a desert. "A devastating attack it shall be. It shall bring the so-called Republic to its knees before it is ever born!"

The chuckle became a deep, sepulchlural laugh, and Rain Or, for all his feelings of allegiance to this shadowy ally, could only marvel at the great chill that passed through his body. Who is using whom? he wondered…

Seven:

Two still, silent figures in brown robes met with the Chancellor in his anteroom off to the side of the main Senate hall. One had long white hair, a long white mustache dropping down from each side of the mouth, slightly slanted eyes, pale white skin, and was of indeterminate age or origin. This was An-Yen Shim, Grand Master of the Jedi order. Beside him stood Ne-Ship Yo, a powerful, squat man with a round head, pockmarked face, and eyes that were more slanted than his colleague, yet unusually merry. Those eyes could grow hard the moment he was displeased. Yo was the Jedi Master tasked with training Jedi, young and old, in the ancient fighting arts.

The Chancellor sat behind a large etan-wood desk, now dressed in a more comfortable purple drape. His official white robe hung from a hook on the remarkably bare wall paneled with dark, ancient argas-wood. He was speaking in the measured, almost condescending tone he used when trying to convince those he was speaking to of something.

"There are those in the Senate that do not think as highly as I do of the Jedi Order. Suspicious sorcerers, brainwashers of the young, convincing the guileless that they have special abilities. Their words," he added quickly, "not mine, I assure you. But you must understand that many in the Senate are still wary of allying our young Republic-to-be with the Jedi. I mean, how useful could this alliance be, when some Jedi still resist taking up arms?"

"That will change soon," said Yo hurriedly. "The Dark Side is everywhere. Even after our success on Tython, even now we hear of Bogans here on Coruscant, attacking your loggers. Who knows what they plan next. We must be prepared."

"My concern," interjected Shim smoothly, "is that the Senate insists on the destruction of the last remaining forest, the last refuge of what is wild and natural on Coruscant. The Jedi always value such things, not just for their own sake, but because the living Force flows from such places. There are, let me finish", he spoke as the Chancellor appeared ready to speak, surprising the venerable politician, "there are moderate voices speaking on behalf of the Forest, not just terrorists. And we Jedi tend to find their ideas reasonable."

"Indeed, Master Jedi," said Chancellor Ulmas in a conciliatory tone, seemingly unconcerned that he had been cut short, "but you must know that the winds in the Senate blow towards using the natural resources of that area for its wood, its Lommite and Cortosis. And the need for new quarters for the millions of immigrants now flowing into Coruscant is desperate.

"If you wish to prove yourselves useful, if you want us to complete construction on a new Jedi Temple here in the Capital of the Republic, you would be wise to align yourselves with the desires of the many, not the few."

"We do believe the new Republic will require our assistance," said Shim carefully, "for the Force allows us to see things clearly as they are unfolding. Which will allow us to provide guidance to your government as to what the proper course of action would be in various difficult matters."

"And we can provide security," added Yo; "deal with the dangers posed by the Dark Side. For they are always seeking power, always seeking to overthrow all that is good. I swear to you we shall be ready to meet these…challenges."

"Yes, you acquitted yourselves very well on Tython," pondered the Chancellor. "Do not think we were not watching. But now you must make a choice. The Bogans that are your enemy assist the eco-terrorists now. That group could have taken action through the appropriate channels, as the moderate environmentalists do now, but instead they seek blood at every turn, using the worst, most evil force in the known Galaxy, the Bogans, as part of their plans. And that is why we must have a decision from you, dear Jedi, as to whether you are on our side or theirs," he almost snarled. He folded his hands and peered at them with his steely old eyes.

"We must discuss this amongst the Jedi Council," said Shim, his back straightening even more than it was before. "You shall have your answer soon. But you must understand that we do not enter an agreement with those who would destroy a living, breathing forest like the 'Lungs' lightly."

Yo said nothing, but in his demeanor the Chancellor could see he was eager to test the Jedi's warrior skills against the enemies of the Republic. The Chancellor addressed him.

"And you, Master Yo, what are your thoughts?"

"Whatever is decided, the Jedi are at your service, with our minds and our swords, Chancellor Ulmas."

Shim looked dubiously sideways at his fellow Jedi Master.

"Good," drawled the Chancellor. "I have always believed your order could be of great service. And now that the conflict on Tython is over, you can concentrate on the greater danger to the entire Galaxy. For that," he spoke with emphasis, "is what I believe is coming. One does not need the precognizance of the Force to see that."

"Again, Chancellor, please give us time to confer amongst ourselves," pleaded Shim gently. "You can be assured that whatever we decide, it will be in the best interests of all concerned."

"I am sure of that," smiled the Chancellor. "And now, dear Jedi, I must attend to more matters of state."

And with that, the Jedi were dismissed.

Eight:

The two Bogans walked side by side in the sun-dappled Forest, on a path leading deeper into the heart of the 'Lungs', away from the eco-terrorist camp. Ranger was more covered, the ruined half of his face concealed under his black cowl by a black swath of cloth. Revenant was uncovered, the flames that seemed to consume his head and leap from his hands unnerving Ranger.

"Although we are not Jedi, learning to control the Force is still of utmost importance if our plans are to come to fruition," intoned Revenant.

"Fru…ition Master?"

"Ah, completion. Your Basic grows much better, Ranger. Yes, our source of power is passion, is nature. And we are the crystals, much like the Adegan crystal of a lightsaber, that focuses that power and sends it forth to destroy our enemies."

"You talk of control, but your power burns out of control," pouted Ranger.

"Do not speak to me in that manner, impudent student. Yes, I am still seeking ultimate control of a power that has lived in me since I was a boy, a power that grows stronger with every passing year, as I study and grow in the Force. A power, sadly, that you can only imagine. I shall learn to control this," and with that Revenant motioned with his burning hands to himself.

"But our immediate concern is acquiring another lightsaber for you, for that is necessary for our plans and your continued mastery of the Force. Perhaps another visit to Corellia is in order, assuming you are well enough?" His words trailed off as he turned his head to his student.

Ranger's face was still throbbing with pain, but it was much more manageable now. "I am well enough to do whatever you ask of me, Master."

Revenant considered for a moment. "No, your place is here. The natives, the fighters, they look to you as their leader. Your quick recovery, your stoic nature, only increases their estimation of you. I will think on this some more. Now," he said abruptly, "let us discuss the Force.

"The Jedi would have you believe that the Force is found by ascetic study, by self-denial, by the deadening of emotion and all that makes one human." Revenant chuckled at the irony of his words, thinking of how inhuman he now appeared. But he let on nothing more of this to his student.

"But look around, Ranger. You know the Forest. The spider-lion kills the Akash, the Trantcill pounces on the spider-lion in the high boughs, and you," here he laughed again, "you, it seems, kill the Trantcill."

Ranger grinned secretly with pride.

"Death, violence, rebirth, passion, this is the way of life, and the way of life is the way of the Force. We harness that energy. You know that this Forest is powerful in the Force. You defend it with all of your passion. Let no one tell you that you are evil," hissed Revenant. "You are simply an extension of nature.

"Come," he motioned to a cool forest spring that they came upon as they rounded a particularly large etan tree, "drink from nature and refresh your spirit."

Revenant crossed his arms and watched as Ranger moved to the spring and greedily dipped in a hand, leaning down and pulling the water to his mouth.

Suddenly he sputtered and coughed, and raised up angrily, wet mud filling and covering his mouth and hand. "What is this?"

"My dear Ranger," Revenant said, stifling a laugh, "it is critical that you strengthen your mind. If my illusions can hold sway over your mind, imagine what the Jedi with their mind tricks could do to you. I saw it happen on Tython, noble fighters laying down their sword, only to be impaled by a despicable Jedi. I do not want the same fate for you, bezel'um, for I see a great destiny for you."

"Yes, Master," mumbled Ranger as he spit out mud and wiped it from his face and hands with the bottom of his cloak.

"Now, the lesson is over. A short one today. Let us return to camp." Revenant again wound long swaths of black cloth around his head and hands, swaths of cloth that mysteriously did not burn but concealed the apparent flames leaping from his body, and the two Bogans returned in the direction of their fellow fighters.

Nine:

Senator Wreth eased around the corner leading from a large concourse down a narrower side street between two towering buildings that lead to a group of the more upscale taverns in this section of Coruscant. He had laid aside his white, stately robes for a more discreet brown hooded cloak, the hood now pulled over his head. He almost, he smiled, looked like a Jedi.

Ahead on the left was the Stargazer's Retreat, a tavern that promised discretion to its wealthier clientele, with soundproofed booths and a rather severe doorman.

Wreth pulled back his hood and was lead in with much sputtering and bowing by the doorman. Being the most powerful Senator on Coruscant had its benefits.

His eyes adjusted to the smoky gloom inside the Tavern. Booths ran along each argas-wood-paneled wall, and hanging in each booth was a portrait of some famous Coruscanti of old that had perhaps once graced the venerable tavern. In the middle of the room a bartender, a human bartender, Wreth observed with satisfaction, handed mixed drinks to a human waitress. Centered behind the circular bar stood a square column reaching to the ceiling, and on each side of the column hung pictures of old skyscrapers that once must have towered over their surroundings, but had found anonymity as Coruscant's skyline outgrew them.

Wreth wandered around the room, his eyes flitting to each booth, until he saw the person he was looking for, a human named Mina Talth. The environmental warden of the 'Lungs of Coruscant.' Wreth savored the irony.

"Hello Talth," oozed Wreth as he settled his bulk into the seat across from the ruddy, pinched Warden. "What is the news from the ecotourism industry?"

Talth pushed a bag full of credits across the table, which Wreth quickly slipped under his robes. "I'd think you were mad," hissed Wreth, "to be so public if I hadn't set up a distortion field right outside the booth. Please use more discretion, Talth!"

"I saw you set up the field. No one is watching, believe me, Senator," answered Talth wearily. "As to your question, it's not going so well. I barely had enough money to pass on to the foundation after I cut out your and my…allowances. Very few citizens want to venture into the Forest, even the nature preserve at the end of the Senate plaza, now that the eco-terrorists have made their presence known on an almost daily basis. And the news of Bogans makes it even worse. Who wants their head cut off by a lightsaber?" laughed Talth ruefully.

"I believe your best source of campaign contributions will prove to be mining profits," suggested Wreth. "Isn't that why we began our…friendship?"

"Yes, I'm under a lot of pressure from the miners to open up more of the Forest to development. But Wreth," pleaded the warden, "the amount of Lommite under the Lungs has actually proven to be quite negligible. When the Forest is gone, and the mining is done, so goes my livelihood. And so go your profits." Talth became pensive.

"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it, my dear Talth. Do not worry, you shall find gainful employment elsewhere in our glorious Republic. I shall see to it. You have been a very loyal…friend," beamed the Senator.

"So what is the plan? Business as usual?" asked Talth.

"The eco-terrorist and Bogan attacks have stopped for the time being. That is a bit worrisome in itself. But I believe you should take this time to step up ecotourism ventures, perhaps to some of the safer regions of the Forest. I'm sure you know of a few. Trust me, the Senate is very close to passing my bill to greatly step up security in the 'Lungs', and continue with all haste the logging and mining," concluded Wreth with satisfaction.

"I heard the Jedi?…"

"Yes, there is even the very good possibility of the Jedi assisting us in these matters. We shall use them to destroy the terrorists, and then we shall make our profits while the iron is hot, with Lommite, Cortosis, and rare wood kickbacks. You have the ability to direct the loggers and miners to the most promising locations in the Forest area. Do not hesitate to use this knowledge," said Wreth firmly.

"But what if someone suspects?"

"I shall use my influence and my connections to make sure our tracks are covered. There is so much interest in the resources of the 'Lungs', so much money to be made, I'm sure a few credits missing here and there will be overlooked. Yes," sighed Wreth as Talth seemed to squirm across from him, "there is some danger. But let us simply use caution and common sense, and that includes passing credits in a public Tavern, and our tracks should be easily covered. I have stayed too long. Goodbye until next time, warden."

With that, Wreth covered his head with the hood, turned off the distortion field device, and moved out of the bar as quickly as his bulk would allow.

Talth sunk in his seat and sipped glumly at his brew. Then he glanced around, got up and made his way out of the tavern into the busy side street outside, disappearing quickly into the crowd.

Ten:

Uni-Dent waited for Shara Tavri in the sunny corridor that wrapped around and looked out on the open Courtyard in the middle of the Jedi Temple where Master Yo instructed Jedi of all ages in the fighting arts. This unusually warm and pleasant afternoon, Shara was finishing a training session in teras kasi, the hand-to-hand fighting style.

Uni-Dent was a short, slight young man, somewhat handsome, with a hawk-nose and shaved auburn hair. He had a gaze and smile that seemed to threaten young women with their hunger. Newly minted as a full Jedi, he had always been one of the order's most promising young students, strong in the Force from the day it had adopted him as a toddler. But now whispers of deeply unethical behavior followed him wherever he went. But he seemed oblivious to those whispers. At least for now.

Uni-Dent could hear the laughter as the group of young Jedi women moved out of the courtyard, gathering in the corridor, toweling off their perspiration, and his heart rose in his throat as he saw Shara.

To him she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he'd seen many. Her beauty was un-prepossessing, a mixture of parents from eastern and northern regions of Coruscant. She possessed shoulder-length golden hair, olive skin, almond-shaped green eyes, a strong jaw and gentle smile, and a thin figure that still boasted a perfect bosom. Perhaps the only flaw in her appearance was the thick ankles that gave her a solid base when she was fighting. Even her flat, smooth feet and long toes drove him mad.

Then she saw him and ran over, a look of dismay on her face. Uni forced what he thought was a confident, witty smile.

Shara grabbed him by the elbow, her head down, and guided him around the corner where they wouldn't be observed.

"Uni, are you mad? What if someone saw you waiting for me? What would they think?"

"They'd think I was crazy for you, which I am," said Uni, trying to smile confidently. There was a time Shara and he would share a bed. Indeed, many of the Jedi apprentices, or padawans, engaged in this activity, to fight the loneliness of being raised without parents, without familial love. And while this activity was always strictly platonic, it had stirred in Uni emotions he could not handle.

"I told you already, I just want to be friends," Shara said sharply, causing Uni to wince inwardly. "Besides, we're Jedi. We're supposed to avoid attachments."

Here Uni was going to speak up, to plead his case once again, but she interrupted him. "And Uni, what's going on with you? I've heard things, terrible things, about what you do out in the city. Uni, seducing women with the Force, how could you?" she said in anguish.

"Come on, that's just not true," he said softly, trying for a placating tone. "Anyways, what can I say, I love women," smiled Uni flippantly, although this was forced as well.

"No you don't Uni, you hate women. You hate them," and here she suddenly felt a chilly tendril emanating from his being, and she shuddered, "you hate them so much." The words strangled in her throat. "I can't be with you Uni, not now, not ever. Get some help," she said, raising her hands as he tried to protest and, turning her head so she could not look upon him, she hurried away.

Uni stood for a moment in shock. He saw his dreams crumble when he looked around the corner and saw her leave the training area with Lan Hewan. Tall, blond, handsome, popular Lan Hewan. He fell back around the corner and leaned against the wall heavily. His hands went to his head as he blew out a breath. Attachment.

Now he felt the answer to his torment roiling in his mind, the answer that always came, the answer that drove him into the streets to feed his darkest lusts. When he first discovered, as he would walk the bustling city streets of Coruscant filled with strange adolescent desires, that he could bend the will of weak-minded women to fulfill whatever scenario he wanted to act out that day in some seedy inn's room, this revelation came as a pleasant surprise.

But now it was driven by something darker, a compulsion, a reaction to the loneliness and boredom he had felt in Jedi Temples ever since he was a boy. And now the compulsion, the darkness, grew ever stronger, and he was driven into the streets more and more, whenever he could get away from his classes and training and meditation sessions.

He was blind to the fact that his behavior was growing more and more obvious, and that he was being tailed by other Jedi who were observing and noting his behavior, building a case for his expulsion from the order. The Jedi Masters, who had always been so fond of Uni-Dent for the great promise he had shown when younger, did all this with great reluctance. Indeed, he had just passed his trials, and been made a full Jedi when this most un-Jedi-like activity had come to light; un-beknowest to Uni, another Jedi had recently seen him use his powers of suggestion on a young woman in a marketplace, and had tailed them to a nearby inn.

Now he went to his room, changed into a simple tunic that would not betray his appearance as a Jedi, and moved furtively out of the Temple into the light of the Senate Plaza that was always so full of promising targets. He grinned.

Behind him, a shadow moved to the edge of the exit from the Temple and watched his progress across the Plaza towards one of the concourses that bisected towering skyscrapers that rose to the sky. And as this shadow moved out into the sun to follow Uni-Dent discretely, another shadow slipped into the Temple behind him, unobserved by the seemingly oblivious padawan who was meant to guard the entrance.

Eleven:

Yeda passed the nursery on the second floor of the Temple, leaning a bit more heavily than usual on his gimli stick, a world of concerns swirling in his mind. He glanced inside the nursery door, as was his habit. The Jedi adopted orphaned and abandoned children on Coruscant and now even on other planets. Those that showed some potential in the Force, often, the joke went, by throwing objects around the room when their diapers needing changing, were kept to be raised as Jedi. The others, after some initial care, went into the city-planet's overburdened foster system. There was some dispute as to whether only Jedi adopted as babes should be trained, that padawans that came to the Jedi at too late an age where unable to avoid dangerous attachments and emotional complications that led more readily to the Dark Side.

But now Yeda sensed something wrong, as he looked in on the sleeping babies in their symmetrical rows of cribs, even before he saw the dead body of Yariana, the Jedi nursemaid.

In a lightning-fast motion he threw aside his walking stick, reached back and drew a pair of black Force-hardened and –sharpened scimitars from sheaths behind his shoulder blades.

Leaning over one of the cribs was a figure completely shrouded in black, except for a pair of glowing orange eyeholes. "Ah, Master Yeda," the figure said in a deep, chilling voice, "this one seems especially strong in the Force, wouldn't you agree. He shall make an excellent Bogan."

Before Yeda could begin his charge, the Bogan whipped out a metal cylinder connected by a power cable to a hidden power pack. In an instant, a long, golden glowing blade of energy lanced out of the cylinder, over a meter long. A lightsaber.

Yeda swung both blades in a wide arc, seeking to cut the Bogan from his left side to his right. But in a flash, the Bogan swung his lightsaber to the left and, amazingly, cut the two usually reliable scimitars cleanly in half. It advanced slowly, swinging the lightsaber in slow, menacing arcs. Yeda retreated, his nimble mind racing to conjure up some sort of strategy.

Then, before the Bogan could raise his blade and cleave Yeda down the middle, the Jedi Master closed his eyes and reached out to the glass window that separated the nursery from the corridor outside, shattering it. He swung his outstretched right hand to the left and flung hundreds of shards of sharp glass at his opponent.

The Bogan shrieked as it attempted to block the shards with its whirling lightsaber, but was struck all over its body with piercing, quickly accelerating jagged pieces of glass. While he had a chance, Yeda reached out with the Force for one of his severed-yet-still-sharp scimitars and swung quickly, cutting the power cord of the Bogan's lightsaber. The golden beam sputtered and died.

The Bogan, knowing it was dangerously close to being apprehended as voices of Jedi hearing the commotion shouted down the corridor, moved with incredible speed out to the hallway, seeming to glide over the floor. Yeda spun and made to follow, but amazingly, the Bogan had already vanished.

Yeda sighed and slumped his shoulders, reaching for his gimli stick. At that moment, a crackling voice came through the communicator at his belt.

"Master Yeda? It's Lan," said the voice. "I'm following Uni."

"More of the usual?" sighed Yeda.

"Can't say yet. I don't think he sees me. I'll let you know. Lan out."

A group of Jedi arrived at the nursery door, flushed from running, and their faces dropped in dismay at the disaster they saw there.

"Are you alright, Master Yeda?" said one known as Ran.

"Yes, but move mistress Yariana to a proper place, we must; to prepare her for a proper burial, we shall. Someone please clean up in here. Ensure that none of the infants are injured, I will." With that Yeda moved back into the nursery, gingerly stepping over the sharp shards of glass that he had been careful, even when using them as a weapon, to keep away from the children.

"Master?" asked Ran, confused.

"Yes, of course. Search parties throughout the Temple, we need; and post Jedi at each entrance, we must. A Bogan on the loose, we may have. Alert the Jedi Council for an emergency meeting, we must - immediately. Terrible." Yeda shook his head and turned to attend to the infants, as several Jedi ran out to fulfill his orders.

Twelve:

Uni-Dent was now moving through a large square, wedged on all sides by towering high-rises, that contained a bustling market. Called Martas Square, it was one of his favorite, "target-rich" environments. He was looking for that one woman or girl who would inflame his desire, and then he would approach her and see if he could bend her will to his.

Every few steps, it seemed, a beautiful thing would walk past him, and as soon as she had passed, he would surreptitiously looked at her backside. Here a short brunette in a loose fitting tunic, her bottom swaying enticingly beneath the fabric, back and forth. Hmm, not bad. He felt a surge of guilt and self-consciousness, thinking I am a Jedi. I hope no one notices.

Again, a young blonde in form fitting breeches, and as he looked back, he saw her turn back to look at him. Nervously, he held her gaze in what he thought was a meaningful way, and glanced down to notice she had quite an ample bosom. To her side he saw a gorgeous, demure Tallian woman walk his way with mincing steps. He hadn't yet had the courage to bed with an alien, and wasn't sure how he felt about the idea. He knew there were men who found the female of the Tallian species the most enticing in the galaxy, and he could appreciate why, eyeing her curves, covered by a magnificent, multi-colored gown, swaying as she patiently sought whatever it was she needed to buy. Probably cooking for her master's household.

He turned to see where she was going, but not for too long, for he wanted to follow that blonde some more, when something appalling caught his eye. Ahead of the Tallian woman, in front of a stall of cured game for sale, he saw a poacher holding up a bundle of rare, dead Rigoo rabbits. If his darkness was women, his light was his love of rare animals. The poacher was smiling and carrying on as if nothing was wrong, although poaching the Rigoo was strictly banned on Coruscant. Uni-Dent's eyes moved with sorrow to the dead, bloody rabbits, thinking of how beautiful they looked when alive, when he would observe them on trips into the nature preserve bordering the Senate Plaza.

The poacher was smiling. Smiling. Didn't he know how soon there would be no more of the Rigoo rabbits? And in broad daylight! A rage welled up in Uni-Dent, and for a brief moment he clenched his fists and jammed his face into a mask of fury, his eyes squeezed shut. He reached out with the Force, most surely the Dark Side, and felt the man's throat with the dark tendrils emanating from his mind. He crushed the poacher's throat.

His eyes opened, and he heard the commotion as people ran to the poacher's side, some crying for a doctor. "Help…I don't know what happened…he seemed fine…is there a healer around?"

Uni glanced around, but it seemed no one had noticed him. He slinked off to the side, merging into the crowd, intent on getting back to the Jedi Temple as quickly as possible. What had seemed such a promising afternoon had turned into a day of horror. He needed to meditate, to try to erase the thought from his mind: I just killed a man. A terrible man, yes. But I strangled him where he stood. The worst thought was that he had no one to turn to. No one to console him, to tell him it was all right, he wasn't becoming a Bogan. He hurried down a side street that would lead to the Senate Plaza and the Temple.

Lan Hewan followed at a discreet distance. One of the most promising padawans in the Jedi Order, a diligent student of philosophy as well as one of Master Yo's favorite students of the fighting arts, Lan looked every part the heroic Jedi of these new, violent times. He was tall and muscular, with a round, pleasing face. His blond hair was shaved close to the head except for a long braid that hung behind his left ear, like all padawans. The permanent scowl that surrounded his eyes stood in contrast to his boyish features and ready smile, lending the impression that he was of good humor but took the mastery of his internal struggles seriously. Unlike Uni-Dent.

"Will you believe this guy? Is there a single woman whose behind he won't look at?" he whispered incredulously into the communicator hidden in the voluminous sleeve of his brown hooded cloak.

"Focus, you must not lose, padawan," came his Master's voice crackling back from his sleeve.

"Don't worry, Master Yeda, I won't let you down. Okay, he seems to have settled on a target, young blond woman, nothing we haven't seen before…wait a minute!"

"Yes, Lan?" came Yeda's voice. But Lan was moving quickly into the open sun of the marketplace.

"Master, I think Uni's done something terrible, hold on," whispered Lan.

He came upon the scene in front of the stall whose proprietor had been purchasing the Rigoo rabbits. Lan noted the illegally poached animals but focused on the man on the ground in front of him. He was wiry, dressed in a somewhat dirty brown tunic. Nothing seemed wrong with him externally, but he was quite dead.

"What happened here?" shouted Lan.

"He was fine one moment," said the rotund meat merchant, "then he grabs his throat like he's choking, and goes down. He's dead son," as Lan put his fingers to the man's neck to check for a pulse. "You a Jedi?"

"Yes. Call Coruscant security. This is a crime scene."

He looked around. Uni-Dent was gone.

Thirteen:

Uni-Dent slinked back to the Northern entrance of the Jedi Temple. Two full Jedi had been posted at the entrance, scimitars drawn, eyes scanning the usual Plaza crowd, surprising Uni by their presence. But apparently they hadn't been forewarned that Uni would be returning to the Temple, for indeed, no one knew where he had gone off to after leaving the scene of the crime in the market. Uni slipped by them before either had a chance to protest, and found the entire Temple in chaos. Jedi and padawans were running everywhere, and he heard scattered bits of talk of a Bogan loose in the Temple.

Uni pushed through the halls, intent on his purpose.

He was headed to Shara Tavri's room.

Finally he was at her door. He knocked tentatively. "Shara?" he called out, barely finding his voice.

"Lan, is that you?" she answered, opening the door with an expectant look on her face. "Oh, it's you, Uni. You really shouldn't be here," she said, head down.

"I need someone to talk to, please," he pleaded. Then, looking around, he said, "Why aren't you looking for the Bogan?"

"Master Yo thought it would be safer for some of us if we just stayed in our rooms. We're all armed, of course," she added hastily.

"What's going on?" he asked, puzzled.

"Some sort of Bogan attacked Master Yeda in the nursery, I know!" she exclaimed as he made a sound of surprise. "The children are alright, but security's going to be a lot tighter from now on."

"Can I come in?"

"All right, but no funny stuff, Uni, I mean it," said Shara forcefully.

Uni looked around, then moved through the door and shut it.

"I did something terrible, Shara. I'm really afraid of what's happening to me."

"Finally, the man grows a conscience," she sneered. "What was she this time, a girl in the market, a Tallian concubine, a blonde working girl?"

"Shara, I think I killed a man," whispered Uni, frightened.

"What? What do you mean, did you get in a fight? You have to tell your Master!" exclaimed Shara.

"No, no. He was selling Rigoo rabbits, and I got so angry, so angry, and I hated him so much and I just…"

"Hold on, Uni, you're not making sense. Who was selling rabbits? Where, in the market?"

"Yes, you know how much I love animals. This man, he didn't deserve to live, you know that the Rigoo are almost extinct."

"How'd you kill him? How come you weren't caught? You know other Jedi are tailing…" She quickly bit her tongue, lowering her head.

"Tailing me? Who? Is it Lan?" he hissed quietly, not wanting to raise his voice.

"Forget who it is," said Shara quickly. "The point is, you're in a world of trouble Uni. They won't just kick you out of the order, because they don't want you to join the Bogans. They'll turn you over to the authorities."

"Fine, let them come for me," said Uni dejectedly. Shara turned to look out her window, to see what was going on outside in the Temple. Uni moved his hand in the air.

"You think about me all the time," said Uni quietly.

"I think about you all the time," said Shara, turning back to look at him with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"You want to be with me," said Uni.

"I want to be with you…I…Uni?"

"You want me here, now," rasped Uni-Dent.

"Aagh, nooo….Uni," gasped Shara, squeezing shut her eyes and grabbing the sides of her head. "What are you doing?" Again she felt the cold tendrils from Uni's being, this time wrapping around her head, seemingly forcing their way through her ears and into her mind…

"You need me, right here, right now. You lust for me," breathed Uni, moving his hand in the air once more. He smiled. He would have Shara, before they came to take him away. Something to remember her by.

"NOOO, UNI!" snarled Shara. She leapt forward, wrapping her hands around his neck, driving her thumbs into his throat at a pressure point she recently learned from Master Yo. Uni fell backwards, surprised, grabbing her arms but unable to release her grip. His eyes grew dim as they both fell in a heap on the floor, Shara never releasing her grip on his throat. Uni was unable to talk, only gurgle and gasp, and his world was growing dark.

Suddenly the door opened, and Lan Hewan rushed in, grabbing Shara's arms and pulling her off of Uni, moments before his certain death. "Shara, NO!" he shouted.

Shara fell back, seemingly perplexed at her unexpected burst of violence. Her shoulders slumped as she sat like a rag doll on the floor.

"You alright?" Lan asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder, now concerned for her.

"Yes, but you better check Uni. I used the kral ma on him. The bastard!" she shouted, not caring who heard.

"Okay, Shara, calm down," said Lan smoothly. He turned to Uni-Dent, lying on the floor moaning and grasping his throat.

Lan dragged him roughly to his feet. "You'll be alright, you big baby. Let's go. The Council is in session and they want to see you. Now."

"I'll be back in a minute, Shara," said Lan, seeing she would be all right. "Just a minute."

"Go," she waved him off. "Go take him to the Council. I'll be alright."

Lan nodded and dragged Uni out the door, almost lifting him off his feet as he grasped his tunic at the shoulder.

The Jedi Council in the Temple on Coruscant was wrapping up its emergency meeting concerning security in the Temple. Seated in six of the twelve concentrically arranged seats in the rotund, brightly lit room that protruded above the roof of the Temple were some of the greatest Jedi Masters of the age: Yeda and Yadla; Ne-Ship Yo; Arn-Fin Ald, Master of Ceremonies; Blan Bil the seer; and, presiding over the proceedings, Jedi Grand Master An-Yen Shim. The other six masters were scattered across the known Galaxy, some still on Tython, some on Ossus, others attending to critical Jedi business elsewhere.

It was now Ne-Ship Yo speaking. "I can assign four of my best warriors to guard the Eastern and Western entrances, but the Northern Plaza has too much foot traffic to be effectively guarded. I suspect the Bogan that fought Yeda in the Nursery and subsequently escaped came in through the Northern entrance. We only had a padawan posted, and this Bogan was surely crafty enough to avoid detection by the young man."

"Agree, I do", spoke Yeda. "Closing the Northern entrance, make it easier for us to focus our energies on the front and back entrances, it shall."

"But what of the groves surrounding our Temple on those sides? Don't they make it easy for the Bogans of the 'Lungs' to move from the Forest to a position from where they can attack?" asked Bil. "I've had troubling visions concerning Bogans hidden amongst trees…"

"I agree," said Shim smoothly. "I think we can agree on this: the Northern entrance shall be sealed. Two fully armed Jedi at the Western and Eastern entrances. And we shall look into cutting back the groves on those sides. Do we agree?" Shim looked around the chamber.

All Jedi Masters nodded in assent.

"Now," said Shim sadly, "we have another matter to attend to." He spoke into a communicator on the arm of his seat. "Lan, please bring Uni-Dent before us and then leave."

Lan came into the Council chambers with a more composed Uni-Dent, who had a defiant look on his face. Lan looked uncertain.

"You may go, Lan. Thank you," said Shim. Lan bowed deeply, and retreated out of the chambers.

"Uni-Dent," began Shim somewhat smugly, his fingers steepled before him. "You have presented us with a most interesting dilemma. We have been observing your un-Jedi-like, lustful behavior among the female citizens of the city, but, quite frankly, have been unable to banish you from the order. For while most Jedi would be given the opportunity to leave for a time, perhaps go somewhere remote and peaceful to meditate on their weaknesses, to come back strengthened and refreshed, this was not an option in your case." Uni shifted uneasily.

Shim continued. "In your case, we had no doubt you would have moved directly to join the Bogans that threaten our order and indeed, the inhabited Galaxy. We felt it best to keep you close, where we could keep an eye on you.

"But now you have made our decision much easier. By using the Force to possibly commit murder, we now have the opportunity to turn you over to the Courts of Coruscant, where the judgment shall be much harsher, I'm afraid. Of course," he added quickly, "you shall be accompanied by two Jedi at all times should you try to use your powers to escape."

Uni grew pale, the hands clasped behind his back clammy. He looked around the chamber at the other Jedi Masters. Most had stony, impassive looks on their faces, save for Yeda, who was sorrowfully shaking his head.

"Uni-Dent," pronounced Shim, "by unanimous agreement of the Jedi Council on Coruscant, you are hereby banished from the Jedi order for the remaining duration of your life. You will be placed under arrest immediately by the Coruscant police and tried in Coruscant's courts for the crime of murder. May you someday find your way to the Light."

Yo spoke into his seat's communicator and two Jedi, Ran and Eric Stormhammer, moved into the chamber, accompanied by four of Coruscant's security forces. The two Jedi grasped the arms of the stunned Uni, and on the nod of Shim's head all six escorts turned, and the Jedi began to drag Uni from the chambers.

"Wait!" shouted Uni. "You're my masters! You're supposed to help me get through this! Why won't you help me?"

"Time to ask for help, you had," responded Yeda sadly. "Gone too far now, you have."

"But I didn't mean to kill the man! I'm sorry!" replied Uni, struggling against the arms holding him.

"Sorry for what you have done, you never were. Only sorry you were caught," replied Yeda.

"Help me, masters!" pleaded Uni. Shim nodded to the two Jedi holding Uni-Dent's arms. They turned and began again to pull him out of the Council's chambers, followed by the four security personnel. Uni jumped up as he looked back.

"You'll regret this, I promise you!" he shouted defiantly.

"Indeed," said Shim, non-plussed, as Uni was pulled out of the room. "And now," he said calmly, as he turned to the other Jedi masters, "let us commence with the other business at hand."

It was an hour later when the Jedi Mikael and padawan Lan, stationed at the Western, or "Front" entrance to the Jedi Temple, saw the figure stumbling towards them, coming around the side of the Temple from the direction of the Plaza. Although not a full Jedi, Lan was stationed along with Mikael for two reasons – the Jedi on Coruscant were short on able-bodied fighters, and Lan was already one of the best swordsmen in the order.

As the figure stumbled closer, Lan immediately recognized him as Eric Stormhammer, who was clearly injured. His cloak was torn, cut and burned in several places, and he was covered with dark, cauterized cuts.

Lan and Mikael moved forward and grasped him under the arms.

"What happened, Eric?" Lan asked urgently.

"Bogans, at least two of them. And natives and fighters. We didn't have a chance. I don't know how they knew which route we were taking to get Uni to the prison building, but they knew."

"Where'd you get these injuries?" asked Mikael, but he and Lan already knew the answer.

"One of them had a lightsaber," moaned Eric. "Cut my blade clean in half. I barely got away. But they have Uni, and he went willingly."

Then Eric's legs gave way, and Lan spoke urgently into his communicator for someone to come get the injured Jedi.

"We're going to have to tell the Council immediately," said Lan. "Call another Jedi to watch with you," he said to Mikael, who didn't like taking orders from the forthright padawan but nodded in assent. "I'm telling them personally."

Lan followed the two teenaged padawans who had come to assist Eric to the infirmary into the Temple, and then passed them and broke into a run.

Fourteen:

Aleeas Isme stepped shakily out of the Jumper, it's whining, spinning blades whipping his hair. His blindfold was still tightly secured.

"This way, sir," he heard a grudgingly respectful voice order him, and soon he was on the ground, being led away from the whipping wind around the Jumper. Finally, someone behind him untied his blindfold, and he was able to gaze in wonder around the large forest clearing.

Everywhere there were natives bearing bone swords and bows, arrows strapped to their back in leather quivers, faces painted as if they were going to war. Troops in green camouflage fatigues carrying the latest in military technology patrolled the perimeter. A sea of tents stood in the middle of the vast clearing, and Jumpers stood side by side behind him, ready to lift off at a moment's notice.

"This way," said the burly "eco-terrorist" who had assisted him off of the Jumper, grasping his elbow.

Aleeas was led to one of the larger tents, and stepped inside. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a large situation table, clearly showing the Forest, and the edge of the Forest, which shrunk inwards from the city to the North every day.

Rain Or, alone in the tent, turned to meet him. Isme was struck with how peaceable the man looked. This was the heartless eco-terrorist who slaughtered loggers and miners by the dozens in randomly staged attacks on an almost daily basis? But the attacks had stopped, and Isme had sent out feelers, thinking perhaps the eco-terrorists were ready to talk sensibly. And his efforts had been rewarded with a Jumper ride to the heart of the Forest.

Even Aleeas Isme, veteran forester, had no idea where he was.

Rain Or appraised Isme. He was a man of average appearance. Perhaps he had once been handsome. He was losing his hair, almost had a double chin, his nose was somewhat hawk bat-like. But his eyes were still a striking blue, and he carried himself with a languid confidence. He wore the green tunic common to all of the pro-Forest movement.

"Aleeas Isme, thank you for coming. We should have met eons ago," smiled Or.

"And maybe I could have stopped you from this insane course of action, Or," countered Isme in a South Coruscant drawl.

"You know my name, interesting," observed Or.

"Everyone does, now. It's all over the vid-news," said Isme. "You need to think about the consequences of your actions. One," he held up a finger, launching immediately into a speech he had prepared in his mind on the Jumper ride over, "the Senate is about to pass legislation that will greatly increase the forces available to the government to find and fight you. Two, it looks like the Jedi are about to enter the fray on the Senate's side, thanks to your idiotic," and here Isme glanced around to make sure they were alone, "your idiotic involvement with the 'Bogans'. And three, the public is growing less and less interested in saving any part of the 'Lungs' the longer it is associated with terrorist attacks. Citizens are afraid that you are going to move beyond killing innocent loggers, that you'll soon start setting bombs in the City itself."

"These are all valid points, Aleeas," sighed Rain Or, "but the very points you make show our hand is forced. Perhaps, perhaps there was a time when rational discussion could have saved our beloved Forest, but you yourself know that these actions are hopeless. How successful have you been, Isme?"

"Just give us more time, Or. There are protests scheduled. Non-violent protests. We are lobbying hard in the Senate. And the Jedi are not entirely sure that they will support a Senate that destroys a resource so strong in the 'living Force', as they call it."

"Isme, Isme. You are a child. The only way we are going to make the Senate hear the voice of reason is by causing so much destruction that they are unable to move forward with their plans to raze and mine this precious natural resource. Have your little demonstrations, for smaller and smaller they become, and lobby all you want. I have no grudge with you. But you will not convince me to change my course of action. And", he smiled, "you are wrong about the 'Bogans'. The Jedi are wrong about the 'Bogans'. These aren't the butchers of Tython. These are 'Force' users who care about the Forest."

Aleeas paused a moment, then sighed and spoke, "I can see, Or, that you've made up your mind. I believe I have come too late. We'll continue with our non-violent course of action, and pray that you will see the light before it's too late." He paused. "Before the Jedi destroy you all."

Or laughed. "The Jedi! They can't even," but here he stopped. "Well, let us say we have the upper hand, and that's how it's going to stay. I think our little talk is done, Aleeas."

With that he clapped his hands, and two camouflaged fighters pulled the flaps of the situation tent aside and came in.

"Goodbye, Or. May the Force be with you, if it helps you see the light," said Isme. And the two soldiers blindfolded him and led him back to a waiting Jumper.

Fifteen:

Lan wandered the halls of the Jedi Temple, somewhat aimlessly. It was a half an hour until his training session with Master Yo. Shara will be there. He wondered if that really mattered to him. Was he forming some sort of attachment for the admittedly beautiful padawan?

He had just given his report to the Jedi Council. Eric's wounds were being tended to. His lightsaber burns. It was becoming evident that the Jedi were at a severe disadvantage when facing the Bogan without the weapon on hand.

The Jedi weapon master, now on Corellia, was said to be hard at work on producing lightsabers, and perfecting the method whereby a Jedi could create a personal weapon for him- or herself.

As he had stood in the Council chambers, after he had given his report on how Uni-Dent had been liberated by the Bogans and eco-terrorists, he was privy to a spirited argument between some of the Masters. An-Yen Shim and Ne-Ship Yo in particular had butted heads on the matter of the entire Jedi order arming themselves and become not just philosophers who meditated on the mysteries of the Force, but warriors as well.

It was true, Shim had said, that the Jedi had taken up arms on Tython to fight the Dark Siders, and that some Jedi even here on Coruscant would have to fight the Bogans. But, Shim argued, the way of the Light Side of the Force was peaceful.

Yo had countered that the Jedi would fight only when provoked, but not to defend themselves was tantamount to suicide.

Lan sighed. He agreed with Master Yo, his favorite Jedi Master besides his own, Master Yeda, but his opinion did not matter in this case. He would have to go along with whatever the Jedi Council decided, and at the moment, Shim seemed to have the upper hand. Will I someday wield a lightsaber? At the moment he did not know. He hoped so.

Then he smiled as he heard the youthful shouts of the younglings training in the courtyard in the arts of teras kasi, the unarmed combat style adopted and refined by the Jedi, especially Master Yo.

Lan turned the corner and came upon the brightly lit hall that opened on the left side to the open courtyard that was used for weapons and unarmed combat training.

He leaned over the low wall separating the hall from the courtyard and watched an experienced Jedi fighter he did not know very well put the younglings through their paces in one of the basic forms of the martial art.

The younglings where dressed in white tunics, their heads completely shaved. Lan smiled at the look of complete concentration and determination to please etched on their young faces. As each punch was delivered into the air, a powerful foot stamp accompanied it as they yelled in unison: "Hi-YAH!"

Lan was impressed as the tiles beneath their stamping feet cracked and dented downwards with each foot stamp, small clouds of dust rising in the air. Even at this young age, they were using the Force to give themselves a power that a non-Force using student of teras kasi would never be able to achieve.

He frowned as he watched them finish the form and break for a moment. What kind of galaxy were they being prepared for? Would their lives be a constant cycle of violence and struggle? Would they lose their lives before they had even lived long enough to leave Coruscant?

Lan shook his head. Fear, mistrust, these things lead to the Dark Side, Yeda would council him. Lan had a tendency to let his thoughts wander a bit too much, and usually they led him to a fearful place inside that he had to constantly keep under control.

"Early, good!" he heard the strident voice of Master Yo call out. Lan turned and snapped to attention.

"You're not a soldier!" laughed Shara Tavri, who was walking besides Master Yo, carrying kicking targets and towels.

"It is good that you are early, Lan", said Yo. "Your dedication is noted."

"I was just watching the younglings," answered Lan.

"You were a youngling once. What are your thoughts?" asked Yo.

"Oh, they're coming along well," lied Lan. Only Yeda was privy to Lan's fears and misgivings.

"Well, are you ready for your training session?" asked Yo, for the younglings had finished their yelling and their stamping and were now filing out solemnly from the courtyard, followed by the Jedi instructor, who smiled and bowed at the two padawans and Master Yo.

"All yours, sir," said the Jedi, and he and the younglings vanished down the hall.

So serious, so solemn, mused Lan. Is that how a childhood should be?

"Lan!" Shara's shout brought him to his senses. "Lan! Hey, philosophy is for later. Let's go, before Master Yo gets upset."

Lan pulled himself together and followed Shara into the courtyard. Hopefully a workout will clear my mind.

Sixteen:

But as Lan settled into a basic fighting stance in front of Shara, who was holding a kicking target, he felt a feeling that was lately very familiar, a knot in his stomach. Shara was seemingly around him more often, and every time they were together, it was so perfect that he almost didn't want to ruin it by seeing her again, and perhaps doing or saying the wrong thing the next time. Does that make sense?

"Lan, kick the target," ordered Master Yo. Lan shook the fog from his mind, reared back a leg and began delivering a sequence of powerful kicks to the target, sending Shara's arm flying off to the side with each blow. Shara grinned at him. What does that smile mean?

"Okay, enough kicking," intoned Yo, after they had switched sides and Shara had kicked the target nearly as hard as Lan twenty or thirty times, one time hitting his hand. He had grimaced in pain as she brought her hand to her mouth, in a false, grinning demonstration of remorse.

"Now we shall grapple," said Master Yo, scowling, and the two padawans faced each other in grappling stance. So close to her body, I hope I don't give anything away.

Shara moved with lightning speed, aided by the Force, and brought Lan to the hard courtyard tile with a two-legged takedown. She stood over Lan. "The mighty Lan Hewan, I like that," she smirked.

Lan spun to his side, grappling both legs and bringing Shara down hard on her front side, then pinned her there grasping legs and neck. "Not too cocky, Shara!" said Lan, with nary a hint of effort in his voice.

Suddenly he felt a sharp rap on his head by Master Yo. "No flirting," he said sharply. "Attachment leads to fear of loss, loss to desperation, desperation to the Dark Side," he instructed the two as they pulled themselves apart sheepishly. "We all saw what attachment to the material world brought Uni-Dent," said Yo, harshly.

Shara bowed her head. The day's events still weighed heavily on her mind, and she had hoped to escape them by training. Now they were all brought back to her in a rush. If only Master Yo knew the extent of Uni-Dent's attachment, he would be even more alarmed. Lan and Shara continued to train in silence, except for a scream or shout when one threw or struck the other.

After the training session, as they toweled off their necks, it was Lan who spoke first. "Glad that he's not around anymore?"

"I am, but I can't believe what happened to him," said Shara. "We were friends once, you know, good friends. But he became…obsessed…with me; I don't know how to explain it. I didn't do anything to provoke that!" she added quickly as she saw Lan's dubious face. They were both silent.

"Well," she smiled at last, "I hope you and I can be good friends."

"I won't turn out like Uni, I swear Shara. I'm just, well," he paused awkwardly, "I'm here for you, if you need me. Because, you know, these are difficult times, with the Bogans and Uni and all," he added quickly as she tilted her head quizzically.

"Go change and meet me in my room, Lan. I have something I think we can do to bring us a little closer," she said mysteriously.

By the Force. She is forward. What could it be? Lan's heart felt like it had stopped beating. Thoughts of duty, of avoiding attachment, of hope, of the absurdity of the idea of Shara Tavri possibly being interested in him in any way other than a friend, these thoughts all flooded his mind. He felt dizzy with both happiness and confusion.

He knew vaguely that he was attractive to the fairer sex, having noticed the glances from women out in the markets, the giggles from some of the younger female padawans in the Temple. But Shara was different. She was beautiful, yes, but also strong, forthright, intelligent, sensitive - he could list the attributes that attracted him to her for a good while.

He had to control his thoughts. He turned, making as if he had to get his towel, as he grimaced and forced his mind into some sort of order. Have to get to my room and meditate a bit, he thought.

Then Lan turned, smiled what he thought was a cool and noble smile, and agreed to meet her in her room (her room!) within the hour. On the way back to his living quarters, he thought most un-Jedi-like thoughts of closeness and attachment.

Seventeen:

Lan stopped in front of a non-descript door in a non-descript corridor and pushed it to the side. There were very few locked doors in the Jedi Temple. Lan mused that perhaps that needed to change, what with Bogans running the corridors now. He almost smiled.

He stepped into his sparsely furnished room. There was a small living room, with a reading chair and table that could be pushed to the side, a meditation mat, and doors to a kitchen and a bedroom on opposite sides of the room. On one wall to the right was a bookshelf bursting with all manner of books, old and new, most dealing with spirituality of various cultures, which had always fascinated him.

But now his gaze fell on the wall facing the door, on which hung nothing but a pair of crossed wooden scimitars. His mind drifted back…

He was in Coruscant's gigantic gladiatorial stadium, located in Central City, slightly North of the equator, near the Senate, Capitol City, and the heart of some of Coruscant's wealthiest districts. The stadium held upwards of 100,000 people, and every week the coliseum would be packed with all manner of citizens, alien and human alike, eager to see the spectacle of the gladiatorial battles.

Lan was there with his best friend Bernian, a slight lad with a shaved head and braid like Lan himself, for they were both Jedi padawans, Bernian newly moved to Coruscant from dangerous Tython. They were 16. In their hands they waved wooden scimitars with glee, for today was "sword day", and everyone under age 18 had been given one of the false blades at the gates as part of a promotion to encourage attendance by the youth of Central City and beyond. Even young aliens were encouraged to attend. The more the merrier, was apparently the promoters' creed.

Now the two youths sat high in the stadium seats, looking around in awe at the spectacle of the stadium. Everywhere was humanity; there were even people standing on the top edge of the stadium, silhouetted against the sky, seemingly in danger of falling over the side at any time. Great colored banners fluttered in the breeze, held aloft by the supporters of various different fighters.

The seats ringed the central, circular battlefield, which had a dirt floor, in which there were various trap doors connected to underground passages that could disgorge fighters or wild animals at any time. Around the ring were open doors out of which gladiators would emerge to bleed for Coruscant's masses.

Lan and Bernian were here for one reason, and one reason only: to see Plateus, the greatest gladiator and showman of his time. He embodied the gladiator's creed, which every young Coruscanti knew by heart: "To make the difficult appear simple, and the simple appear difficult." Once, gladiators had been slaves attempting to win their freedom. Now, on enlightened Coruscant, they were free men, seeking glory and fortune at the ends of their blades.

Suddenly a roar erupted as a figure, small from Lan and Bernian's cheaply purchased vantage point, entered the arena and held his blade aloft in tribute. The chancellor was not here, nor were any senators. This was entertainment strictly for the masses. Lan and Bernian did not care.

The gladiator Plateus turned in each direction of the compass, pointing to the crowds in acknowledgement of their chorus of support. Then he grimly pulled the shield off of his back and looked around for his opponent. Lan and Bernian had seen Plateus defeat three men at a time, spider-lions, even a Trantcill that had had its wings clipped in a manner that allowed it only the ability to lift itself in great leaps off the arena floor.

Then the crowd erupted in a roar as another figure appeared from a tunnel: Larneodis, a gladiator of almost as much renown as Plateus.

Plateus watched quietly as Larneodis acknowledged the crowd in much the same way. Then Larneodis drew two scimitars from sheathes on his back, bowed to Plateus, and with no further ado began circling him in a menacing way.

"He's got twin scimitars," cried Lan over the roar of the crowd to his friend. "Do you think he was a Jedi once?"

"Doubt it," replied Bernian through a mouth thick with cheap pod-pies.

Now Larneodis lunged at Plateus, his blades weaving a deadly dance. Plateus blocked the right-handed scimitar with his shield, the left with his own sword, then lunged inside Larneodis' defenses, seeking for a quick strike to the heart. But Larneodis spun to the right and backed off, swinging his blades in an intricate dance in front, behind, and to his sides as he crouched low. The crowd erupted in cheers at the showmanship. Plateus scowled and lunged again.

Larneodis was ready and swung both blades left to right, but Plateus spun to his right, blocked the blades with his shield, then continued to spin and delivered a deep cut to Larneodis' side. The fighter jumped back, but was clearly gravely wounded. This time there was no entertaining whirling of blades as Larneodis breathed heavily and surveyed his options. Plateus smiled and raised his blade to the sky, bringing a roar from the crowd, including two enthusiastic padawans, who were themselves students of swordplay. Plateus crouched and spun his blade in a display to rival the one the other fighter had performed.

Suddenly Plateus lunged at Larneodis, his sword beating at the wounded gladiator's defenses while his shield seemed to block every attempt at a counter-strike. One moment, Larneodis smashed his right blade against Plateus' shield, then awkwardly brought his left blade up to counter Plateus' downward slash. Plateus saw that the wounded warrior was tiring, and continued to pound on his defenses as the other backed up, seeking an opening. But his curved blades were not suited to the stabbing motion he would need to penetrate Plateus' defenses.

Then Larneodis made a critical error, bringing both blades downwards from the outside. One blade struck Plateus' quickly raised shield, the other the outwards parry of his sword. Plateus lunged forwards and impaled Larneodis on his blade. He stepped back as the crowd gasped and the fatally wounded gladiator dropped to his knees.

Plateus raised his blade again and surveyed the crowd, for they would determine his next action. A sea of hands performed a sideways cutting motion. Only Lan and Bernian did not participate in this motion, suddenly uncomfortable with the blood lust they were seeing all around them. But their discomfort passed.

Plateus nodded, spun as he swung his blade in a wide arc, and decapitated Larneodis…

Lan remembered himself and his friend laughing in the halls of the expanding Jedi Temple, parts of which were still very much under construction, swinging their wooden swords at each other. "To make the difficult appear simple, and the simple appear difficult!" shouted Bernian with glee as he spun his sword and swiped at Lan, who blocked the blow and in turn made a series of feints and whirling attacks.

Suddenly the two padawans stopped short. Before them had appeared a somber Master Yo, who raised his hands in a motion that meant they were to stop their horseplay immediately and listen carefully.

"A Jedi fights only when necessary," began Yo. "And he does not use his blade to entertain," he spat, "himself, or others. A Jedi is practical with his blade, and puts it back in its sheath when it is no longer of use. Do you understand?"

The two padawans nodded, their jovial mood quashed.

"There will be a time when you must fight," continued Yo. "And you will find it is not so amusing to take a life. And," he raised a finger, "if you waste time and motion with unnecessary flourishes, like your beloved gladiators, you will find yourself on the losing end of a sword. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master Yo," they mumbled in unison.

"Very well, we will address the economy of motion in our next training session. You are dismissed."

Humbled, they went back to their rooms, and put aside their wooden play swords forever…

Lan gazed at the swords. Bernian had given him his wooden blade when he became a full Jedi, as a memento of their friendship, for he was headed to Ossus. There he would continue his life as a Jedi as a scholar, studying ancient documents that possibly related to the discovery of the Force in other civilizations. Lan missed his friend greatly. Bernian had arrived at the Temple at a time when Lan had no friends his own age. They still communicated by video-com occasionally, but Ossus was a long ways away, and over time their communications had become less and less frequent.

Come on, Lan, you can't dwell on the past. A Jedi controls his emotions. With the time he had remaining before he was to meet Shara, he pushed the few pieces of furniture he had to the sides of the room, pulled out the meditation mat, and kneeled on it, seeking to clear his mind and focus his thoughts.

Eighteen:

Lan arrived before Shara's door. He stood for a moment, gathering himself, then knocked tentatively on the doorframe.

"Lan, is that you?" he heard her voice, high and melodic, from inside.

"Yes, can I…uh…come in?" He tried to hide his nerves as he spoke, with moderate success.

"Of course."

He slid the door to the side and stepped in. He could smell incense burning and saw lit candles everywhere. I really hope she's not expecting some sort of romantic rendezvous here. He was lying to himself, of course.

He looked around her quarters. In contrast to his relatively ascetic living space, hers was decorated in a warm, whimsical style. In one corner stood a plant of tall reeds with powder puffs at the end. There were tables and chairs and a couch and easy chair, tastefully arranged, and bookshelves, and small bric-a-brac from various known places in the galaxy, and interesting art hanging on the walls that looked expensive but couldn't possibly be, for a Jedi never had much in the way of money.

Through the open door to her bedroom to the right he saw her bed and meditation mat and more candles and incense. She walked out, dressed in a simple tunic.

"Uh, Shara, what's going on here?" queried Lan quizzically.

"Well, I'll get right to the point. I was doing some research in the archives, routine stuff, you know, for Mistress Yadla. It was getting late, and I was about to leave, when this really ancient-looking scroll caught my eye." She had Lan's full attention. "I opened it and was able to read some of it…it was in an ancient language that I had some experience with in my studies with Mistress Yadla."

Here she paused to catch her breath, for she seemed quite excited.

"Go on," urged Lan.

"Well, I found a form of two-person meditation that is meant to bring one in a closer link to the Force. One person is put into a form of a trance, while the other guides them in their journey to greater unity with the Force. Oh Lan, we have to try it!" she exclaimed.

Here Lan would have protested, but the eager look in her eyes, plus his overwhelming desire to please Shara, left him with nothing to say but to mumble, "all right, couldn't hurt to try. You think you know how to do this?"

"Definitely. It's quite simple. Come with me and lie on my bed, and I'll get the scroll."

Lan moved to the bedroom with some trepidation and lay down on the newly cleaned sheets. Everything in her living quarters smelled like Shara. He would remember that smell to the end of his life: exotic, warm.

She reappeared by his side with the scroll and put it on the bed beside him.

"Now, close your eyes and relax, and reach out as closely as you can for the Force."

Lan entered into a form of Jedi meditation, for if a Jedi could do anything well, it was to meditate. Gradually he felt a sense of warmth creep over his body as he linked with the Light Side of the Force. A sense of total peace stole through his being.

"I think you're ready, Lan," whispered Shara.

Lan was silent.

Shara moved her hands in opposing circular motions a few centimeters above Lan's resting form, all the while looking down at the scroll and chanting in the strange language.

At first, nothing happened. Lan stirred uncomfortably for a moment but then was very still. He looked peaceful, more peaceful than Shara had ever seen him. She returned her concentration on the scroll.

Then it happened. A few golden motes of light rose from his body under her hands, then more and more. This is it! she thought excitedly. I wonder what Lan's feeling.

Soon motes of gold were rising from his entire body, but he remained very still.

Then something happened. Lan moaned, and his body began to slowly writhe. Shara stopped her chanting and pulled her hands away from him, concerned.

Lan felt electrical shocks lance through his body, and he shuddered. The feeling was extremely unpleasant, though not painful. Have to get awake, he thought. His body felt paralyzed, as if he were asleep, but with a tremendous force of will, he swung his legs onto the floor and stumbled down a dark, unknown hallway. Where am I? He wondered.

Suddenly, inexplicably, he was back on the bed. Again he forced his legs over the side of the bed, yanked himself to a standing position, and stumbled down that strange corridor, looking for a door or some exit to take him back to Shara's room. Am I awake?

Again, he found himself in the bed. He repeated this process several times, each time sure he was finally awake only to find himself back on the bed, until finally he laid his head back with resignation. Again he felt the electric shudder pass through him. Then he heard her voice: "Lan? Lan!"

He calmed himself completely. He was rising, rising through the darkness. He closed his eyes and felt the gauzy haze separating himself from reality parting…he jerked himself awake. He was back in Shara's bedroom, and she was besides him, holding him with one arm with concern.

"Can't ever do that again," he whispered. "By the Force, where'd you find that scroll? I felt," he struggled for words, "I felt like I knew what the Dark Side felt like!"

"I'm so sorry, Lan, I didn't know. It was so beautiful, but then I lost control and you begin to writhe and moan and I tried to reach out to you, but you were so deep, and I was afraid to touch you…" she broke off and Lan saw a tear in her eyes.

"Shara," he whispered consolingly, lifting her chin with a finger and looking into her almond eyes, "there is no emotion, only peace."

And then their lips touched. And they kissed, releasing all the pent-up passion of a pair of people who had been denied passion an entire lifetime. Lan had seen people kiss before, out on the streets or in establishments of Coruscant, and it had always looked like such a messy, distasteful affair. He had never wanted to kiss anyone. But with Shara it felt different. He could hardly feel her lips. Instead he felt the Force flowing between them more powerfully than he had ever felt it before, the light of her being filling him to the brim, lifting him upwards, spiraling to some shining white light above. He never wanted the kiss to end…

Then their lips separated.

"Wow," whispered Shara, shyly.

"Wow."

And then their lips met again, and they embraced and fell to the bed, Shara shoving the old scroll onto the floor.

Nineteen:

One week later…

Shara and Lan walked in the gigantic Coruscanti botanical gardens, which were enclosed by a climate-controlled glass dome. They wore light tan tunics, their winter capes draped over one arm, walking closely together but yet apart. Lan longed to close that short distance between them that felt like the great gulf between two stars, to hold Shara's hand, to link his arm in hers, but they had to keep up some modicum of propriety in the name of the Jedi Order.

So instead he looked with feigned interest around him at what could soon be the only refuge of wild flora on the planet, assuming, as most did now, that the Lungs of Coruscant were doomed.

The gardens were a riot of color – greens, purples, blues, reds, all swirling together, interspersed with etan trees and long aly-grasses that once swayed in long-gone veldts, each stem capped by a ball of shimmering seeds that brought to mind a wind-kissed cloud.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" mused Shara, more to break the silence that anything.

"If they raze the 'Lungs', this will be all that's left of wild Coruscant," answered Lan, all the while aching to speak less banal words, to speak to what had happened to them in Shara's room a week prior.

"Well, then, what did the Council say?" quizzed Shara, leaning her head forward to look sideways into his distant eyes.

"My Jedi trials have come. I'm to accompany some loggers into a hot spot on the edge of the 'Lungs', wait until we're attacked, hang back, sneak after the Bogans once they've done slaughtering the loggers, find Uni-Dent, bring him back to stand trial for what he's done, and well," he laughed bitterly, "that's about it! It's the most hare-brained scheme the Council has ever concocted, if I do say so myself."

"Lan! Shhh," Shara looked around, "someone could be listening!"

"Who's going to listen to a pair of padawans in the botanical gardens?" Lan said with exasperation. "It's just that…" he said in a more subdued tone.

"What?"

"We've just had this, thing, happen between us, and I don't want to die now that I've found you. Does that make sense?"

Shara stopped and turned to face him. "I want to marry you," she said simply.

Even after having broached the subject of their growing relationship himself, Lan was completely taken aback. "What?"

"It's been done before. Jedi can marry. I want to marry you," she said more adamantly, though with down-turned eyes and a pout on her lower lip.

"But, we hardly know each other, really."

"I felt the Force more powerfully when I kissed you that first time than in all my years of meditating and study. You can't deny it. I know you felt it too. I think the Force intends us to be together."

"Together, yes, but shouldn't we make sure? I mean, the Jedi Council will frown on this as it is, and we have to be sure," he finished weakly.

"I am sure. You are sure," she insisted.

"But what of attachment? We've been taught our whole lives that people like us, with our powers, we've got to avoid emotions that can lead to obsession, to jealousy, to possessiveness…rage…"

"Who are you now, Master Yo? Why can't we, I mean, what I want to say is, why can't we feel affection for each other without becoming possessive?"

A light seemed to dawn in Lan's eyes, and he smiled. "Like a Master and a Student feel affection…"

"And a commitment, yes, a very strong commitment, but nothing more. No obsession, no worry, no jealousy, oh Lan, I know we can do it!"

"Alright, alright, let me think, hmm…" he smiled as Shara punched him in the shoulder. Lan laughed out loud, lifted Shara in his strong arms, and spun her around, not caring who saw him anymore. "This is going to be my wife! Shara Tavri is mine!" he crowed with glee. He had never felt so happy in his entire, short existence.

"Lan," Shara said a bit breathlessly once he had put her down, brushing loose strands of hair from her eyes, "I think that's a bit of possessiveness speaking already."

"Sorry, I got it, no attachment."

Then they both smiled and resumed their placid walk through the gardens, aloof to the bewildered stares of passers-by.

Twenty:

Mina Talth waited in a state of high anxiety as the various mining contractors filed into the glorified shed that perched at the edge of a vast pit scarring the landscape near the western edge of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. He was perched on an unstable wooden desk, surrounded by rickety chairs that the muscular miners squeezed themselves into as they found their places in the room.

Talth fingered the controls of a disruption field generator that would render any listening devices that may have been surreptitiously placed on the premises useless.

Finally, the room was full, and the last miner closed the door securely behind him.

"So," Talth's voice cracked. He began again, "So, I put out the call for us to meet here because I want to assure you of the latest progress in the Senate to ensure greater profits for all of us involved."

Immediately, Botus, a burly man who stood a full head taller than Talth, spoke. "Talth, you've been making promises to us for a good year. The Lommite is scarce where we're allowed to mine, and the Cortosis non-existent." Several miners murmured their assent. "You've been promising us movement in the Senate the whole time, and taking our bribes, and what do we have to show for it? Where are our profits?"

"I assure you that a most sweeping change is coming." If you idiots would read the vid-reports instead of drinking and gambling, you'd see what was going on in the Senate.

"Okay, Talth, lay it on the line for us," spoke Tarith, a middle-aged, wiry contractor. "Some of our prospectors are telling us about a large Lommite deposit in the Ganguin pass to the South, but we have no clear-cutting out here and the Bogan attacks are stepping up again."

"I assure you, I have recently met with my…contacts, and they have assured me that nothing less than an entire clear-cutting of the Lungs will soon be underway, and your profits, Tarith, will go through the roof. Please, gentlemen," he pleaded to skeptical murmuring, "the Republic, especially Coruscant, will need these materials for development, we all know that. Lommite is an essential building material, and Cortosis is going to be needed for military armor. And we all know that your logging brothers stand to make a huge profit in the rare woods trade. It's just a matter of time."

"So what do you want from us," sneered Botus. "More contributions?"

"Well, that is a consideration, yes," said Talth nervously. Attempting not to wring his hands, he held securely to the edge of the desk.

"Why should we keep paying you these considerations?" shouted Balth, another burly contractor. "What are you doing?"

"I have a very valuable contact, that's all I can say. But he assures me that the Senate is very interested in the land and resources that you are interested in exploiting."

"And security?" injected Botus. "We've been lucky so far that the Bogans are more interested in taking out the loggers than us. As soon as we move into that forest, we're going to get slaughtered."

"I am going to see to it that you have the most modern, most adequate security forces at your disposal," answered Talth. "My next request of my contact shall be to secure some of the Coruscanti militia for this purpose, and, when the government finally decides to organize as a Republic, I'm sure the military they raise will be at our disposal."

Several miners muttered their disbelief.

Talth continued. "Do you not think that this is not a priority for the government? They need land for immigrants, resources for the new Republic, for trade and development. Our profits are assured, our safety is assured." Talth was quite pleased with how assertively he was now speaking, for it was not something he was capable of very often. "All I require is your patience, and, ah, your continued contribution to the cause."

There was snorting and grumbling, but after it was clear Talth was done speaking, first Botus, then Tarith, then the other miners slowly stood up and placed signed credit vouchers on the desk besides Talth.

Botus grabbed the sleeve of Talth's tunic and hissed in his ear, "You better come through Talth. I have a family to feed."

"People, we all have businesses to consider," Talth proclaimed. "I can assure you again, I am putting the utmost pressure on the right people to see that we get everything we want from this new Republic. Profits for all!" he clapped, but the miners, after depositing their bribes, filed sullenly out of the hut, ignoring him.

Twenty-one:

Lan stood besides one of the loggers in the cold morning sun, wrapping his traveling cloak even tighter around himself. They stood astride the walkway of one of a hundred gigantic steaming logging machines poised to burrow into the woods before them. The steel monstrosity would have intrigued Lan if he weren't chilled to the bone. Despite all discipline, his teeth chattered in his mouth.

The logger he had joined was named, amusingly enough, Kal Hewan, and was a recent immigrant from Corellia who had found the only work on Coruscant that would take him. Lan eyed him dubiously from top to bottom. He was a short, stocky man, with wiry gray hair, an untidy beard with parts of his breakfast stuck in it, merry eyes, and torn and battered furs that barely covered his rotund belly. Kal spoke up as he saw Lan look his way. "Reckon we're cousins, Jedi?" he asked with a phlegmy chuckle. He'd most likely been waiting all morning to make this particular joke.

Lan looked his way again for a moment, then turned his attention back to the Forest. "I don't think so," he snorted.

Suddenly his senses grew prickly, for the forest had grown unnaturally quiet. Lan felt for his blade under his cloak as Kal picked up his slug thrower from the top of the power housing beside him and checked to make sure it was properly loaded, with the safety off.

Then it came, in an instant. RPW fire crackled from the woods amid the screaming of loggers who had been struck despite taking cover behind the housings of their machines, and arrows started whizzing by their eyes.

"Get out of here, Jedi, while you can still make it to the woods!" shouted Kal as he took aim with his slug thrower and started firing at shadows moving at the edge of the great Forest.

Lan hesitated, unsure of what to do. He tried reaching into the Force for guidance, but was too distracted by all of the ordinance zipping by too close for comfort.

"I said get going!" shouted Kal brusquely, and with a well-planted fur boot on Lan's hindside, shoved him off of the logging machine in the direction of the forest.

Lan tumbled to the ground and landed on his hands and knees. He stood and raced for the cover of the woods off to the left where there was less chaos, trying to regain his balance as he stumbled forwards. Eco-terrorists and natives engaging the loggers between the woods and the machines had spotted him, and as he reached the cover of the woods RPW rounds popped off of the trees around him and arrows thudded into the ground beside him. He used his connection with the Force to give himself some sort of notion of where the slugs and arrows would be flying, and was able to avoid getting hit as he plunged deeper into the dark Forest. Soon the crackle of RPW and slug-thrower fire grew distant, and he found himself padding through the Forest shrouded in near-complete darkness.

Lan moved on, reaching out with the Force to avoid tripping over snarling vines and fallen trees. All around him he could hear the chatter of glow monkeys, and in the distance he heard the roar of a spider-lion. His eyes widened as he felt the living power of the Force coursing through him. He felt like a convergence for all of the energy of life in the 'Lungs', focused on him and flowing into him. He became acutely aware of all the living beings - above, below, to the sides - that were in the vicinity. He used this knowledge to avoid the most dangerous of the fauna close by. He tried to move as quietly as possible, and the Force was even telling him where the softest patches of loam were before he lifted his foot to move forward. Despite himself, he grinned, quite impressed with his newfound powers.

The question was, where was Uni-Dent? Where were any of the Bogans? He had no idea how to find either, and indeed, he wasn't sure what he would do if and when he did find them…

For hours, Lan pressed through the dark Forest, searching for some sign of where the Bogans might be hiding. His only guide was the Force. The trees gave off a certain heat – perhaps it was his imagination. In any case, he was constantly thirsty and soon was running out of water.

A possible solution to the problem presented itself as he came to the edge of a small clearing where docile Akash were drinking at a small pool of water. The creatures had tawny skin, rounded muzzles with prominent molars good for chewing vegetation, and raised hind legs for leaping and running through the jungle. Lan knew the Akash could vanish like ghosts among the trees of the 'Lungs', using the soft pads on their paws for silence and claws for climbing; and that the reason for these evolutionary adaptations was that they were the primary source of food for spider-lions.

Lan hovered at the edge of the clearing, desperate for water but wary of any deadly carnivores potentially hiding in the area.

Eventually Lan decided he would draw on the Force, so potent among the trees, for his nourishment, and regretfully moved on.

Hour after hour, Lan reached out with the Force for any indication among the wild energy of the Forest for the coldness of the Bogans' presence. The vegetation was growing thicker and he was often forced to free his blade to hack through vines and creepers as the glow monkeys chattered at him from above and the giant Trantcills cried far overhead.

Then he felt it, like a teardrop hanging in a brilliant sky - a nexus of coldness beyond the next gorge. Lan sheathed his blade and carefully climbed down one side of the gorge, then up the other, pulling on vines as he rappelled up the wall of the dirty crevice. Then, ahead, he saw shafts of light streaming through the trees, and knew he was coming upon a large clearing. A few more quiet steps and he was able to peer through the trees upon the opening in the Forest. He breathed silently through his nose as he looked upen a grassy meadow, occupied on the far side by a battered jumper being tended to by a figure in a black cloak that had its back to Lan at the moment. A panel was open on the side of the jumper, and apparently the figure was performing some sort of maintenance or repairs.

He felt an unmistakable coldness pouring out of the very essence of this figure. Make no mistake, this was a Bogan. Lan felt about for other life-forms, but the disturbance in the Force clouded his perceptions.

Then Lan stepped on a branch. His heart sank and his body froze as the crack seemed to echo through the entire clearing. Immediately and without warning, the figure swung around, carrying a large RPW. Lan registered that a black hood covered his head, and that the left side of his face obscured by a black swath of cloth. But why would a Bogan, a Force user, resort to such a crude device as a repeating slug thrower?

These thoughts flashed through Lan's mind as he launched himself to his left into the clearing, his legs churning with Force-aided speed. The Bogan swung the RPW in a wide arc from Lan's right to left, the weapon chattering as it poured forth a stream of death and destruction. Lan's only chance was to race, diagonally, towards the Bogan's position.

Letting the Force pour through him and carry his racing legs, Lan stayed barely ahead of the arc of the weapon.

Suddenly, he was upon the Bogan, shoving the RPW's muzzle aside with a Force-push delivered across his body from his left hand and slamming his right elbow into the Bogan's chin with a classic teras kasi strike. Moving purely on instinct and years of training, he then spun in a tight clockwise circle and rammed the same elbow into the masked man's right temple. The dark Force-user dropped like a sack of stones, the weapon falling from his hands.

Lan breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the RPW, meaning to sling it over his shoulder before he trussed up the Bogan. He needed to figure out how to either get the Jumper flying again, or find out where the Bogan's encampment was, if it was indeed nearby.

Then, in a fit of curiosity, he reached for the Bogan's mask, when he heard the ratcheting all around him of projectiles being fed into slug throwers' chambers. He turned slowly, carefully putting down the weapon and raising his hands.

In a semi-circle around him at the edges of the clearing stood at least 20 heavily armed eco-terrorists, their weapons all trained at his heart.

"Alright, Jedi, come peacefully or die, it's your choice," growled one, his face obscured by heavy camouflage paint.

Lan's heart sank as he trudged towards the center of the clearing. Several of the fighters pulled down his arms, one after the other, then forced him to the ground as they trussed him up like a hawk-bat at the Corellian immigrants' feast of Anan.

His Jedi trials were not going very well.

Twenty-two:

Jedi Master An-Yen Shim stood at the back of the throng of citizenry stuffed into the Senate chambers on Coruscant to witness the ratification of the new Constitution that would signal the transformation of the Interstellar Confederacy into the inevitable Galactic Republic. Most citizens had already been calling the coalition of planets where sentient life lived, connected by reliable hyperspace lanes, the Republic, due to arguments by various intellectuals; now it was to become official. Shim was alone, and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, for he did not want the Jedi Order dragged into a political position, on one side or the other. Still, the Order needed to be represented, so there he was on a beautiful, mild Coruscanti morning.

Inside the chambers, however, body heat was drawing beads of sweat to the brows of all of the lucky onlookers, and the debate was just as heated. Senator Wreth and Senator Tedek were once again sparring concerning the fate of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'; about the needs for the resources to be found there and the opportunities for millions of immigrants flooding into Coruscant's orbiting space-ports and down into the welcoming city below. Wreth pounded away at Tedek that with the latest air-scrubbing technologies ensuring that Coruscant's atmosphere would remain livable, the 'Lungs' were no longer needed to cleanse the air, while Tedek struck a chord with all those who valued nature and its intrinsic beauty and value.

At this point there was an unusual development. Senator Ral'Ren of the Tallians stood and interjected himself into the conversation. The Tallians hailed from the temperate planet of Tallia, which featured a primitive industrial society and the most well-educated, skilled courtesans available to the wealthy. It was one of the first planets on the outer edge of the known Galaxy discovered by intrepid hyperspace explorers once the Corellians had perfected the hyperdrive. "Indeed, esteemed colleagues," Ral'Ren spoke through an electronic translator, "Coruscant should have every right to keep control of the immigrant situation and care for its natural resources.

"But as the center of what will be the new Galactic Republic, it has a responsibility to all the star systems and races of this Galaxy.

"On our planet, unemployment has risen to staggering levels, and our refineries, the linchpin of our economy, are in desperate need of the Lommite and Cortosis ore that we have been told may exist in even more significant quantities under what are now called the 'Lungs of Coruscant'."

The chambers had grown quiet, so he continued. "Trade and commerce should be our priority if this Republic is to survive economically. Many of my people have immigrated to Coruscant and now serve as trading partners with our home system. Immigrants such as these require suitable living quarters. They require natural resources - not just ore but rare woods such as those found in the Forest - to remain suitable trading partners."

A low murmur filled the chambers as disgruntled Senators and onlookers collectively rolled their eyes on hearing the same old arguments Senator Wreth had been making for weeks.

The Tallian hastily wrapped up his plea. "Please keep in mind the economic viability of Coruscant and the new Republic."

Wreth spoke up again and bowed to the Senator Ral'Ren, who stood on the raised steps behind the partition separating human Senators from non-human. "Indeed, as Chancellor Ulmas has said, the destiny of Coruscant is to become a great city-planet and the Jewel of the Republic."

He would have spoken more, but a weak clearing of the throat from the dais caused him to become silent and turn around, for Chancellor Ulmas was prepared to speak.

"These discussions will continue, but now we have come to a momentous occasion in this Galaxy's history, and we should not keep our onlookers waiting any longer, including," and here his piercing gaze found the eyes of Jedi Master Shim through the maze of heads concealing him, "our Jedi friends." Master Shim fought back discomfort and merely nodded his head in respectful admission.

"The Constitution that we have spent months working on in silence will now be signed and brought before all the citizens of the Republic," he spoke into one of the vid-cameras in the chambers that were beaming the proceedings to all corners of the known Galaxy.

Chancellor Ulmas continued. "My aide shall now read its provisions to the satisfaction of all present. Should any Senator have a disagreement with its positions, he may speak now. We will not," his voice rose as Wreth, Tedek, and others prepared to speak, "we will not discuss the fate of the 'Lungs of Coruscant' at this time."

Shim listened carefully to the provisions outlined in the Constitution as the aide rose beside the Chancellor, unrolled a giant parchment scroll, and began to read. Three Senators - one Senior and two Junior - would represent every human star system and non-human species. Any bill introduced would have to be seconded, and then voted on, to be passed by a straight majority. Chancellor Ulmas would break any deadlocks or ties.

In the event of the resignation or passing of a Chancellor, Senators had a right to nominate a successor, the nomination to be seconded, and then all of the nominees would be voted on, with him having the most votes becoming the new Chancellor.

The gallery grew restless as the aide droned on, and Shim found himself listening with only part of his mind. His thoughts drifted elsewhere. Lan Hewan had not reported back in two days, and it was now feared that he had been captured. He was not dead; the Masters of the Jedi Council could still feel his presence in the Force. A thought occurred to Shim. The Jedi trials of Shara Tavri were due. He decided: he would propose Shara be sent into the 'Lungs of Coruscant' to locate Lan and report back, so a larger force of Jedi could be sent to rescue him.

Satisfied, Master Shim turned his full attention back to the provisions of the Galactic Republic's new Constitution being laid out for all to hear. There would be a standing army, funded by a taxation system graded on wealth; the wealthier would be taxed more, the poor less. Shim would have been satisfied if it were not made clear that citizens of the Republic would not select their own Senators. These would be appointed by the ruling body of each star system, no doubt selected from the landed and the wealthy.

And all citizens would have the right to bear arms, as long as they were not concealed. A necessary concession to the violent times we live in thought Shim grimly.

Finally, the aide stopped speaking, and looked around expectantly for one Senator or the other to object to any of the text contained in the Constitution. The hall was still as if all stood with baited breath. The aide nodded.

Now that the provisions had been read, the parchment was laid on a raised platform before the dais, beside an electronic writing pad. Solemnly, one Senator after another proceeded to the platform and signed his name on both the parchment and the electronic pad. Finally, two aides holding his elbows helped down Ulmas, and he signed the document with a great flourish.

He then turned and spoke, his voice almost a whisper, and the room grew completely quiet as all strained to hear him.

"With the ratification of this Constitution," he rasped, "the undersigned representatives of the known planetary systems in the Interstellar Confederacy have agreed to officially form the Galaxy's first Galactic Republic. A new era of peace and prosperity in the Galaxy has officially, begun."

There was great applause, and a smattering of hurrahs. What its citizens had already known loosely as the Galactic Republic had officially come to life. Now it was up to the good citizens of the Republic and yes, the Jedi, to make sure it would not fall on its first few tentative steps.

Twenty-three:

Grandmaster Shim was about to leave the sweltering Senate chambers, along with most of the gallery, when a strident voice belonging to Senator Galtar of the western portion of the Eastern hemisphere raised his voice to announce the first motion.

"Coruscant must have additional representatives in the Senate due to its vital importance to the Republic and its population!" cried the Senator.

Shim stopped in his tracks, as did most of the gallery, and viewed with interest what would happen next. Galtar's motives were hard to penetrate. He was as yet a senior Senator but a minor player in Galactic politics. But his provinces were one of the largest destination points for immigrants from Chandrila due to the major energy-producing industry of his region of Coruscant.

What happened next was even more perplexing. "I second the motion!" shouted Senator Tedek, raising his baton. There was a murmur from the gallery.

"Then we shall have a debate," croaked Chancellor Ulmas. The gallery settled in.

Wreth was curiously silent as Tedek took the dais vacated by Ulmas.

"It is a simple matter of Coruscant protecting its own interests. At present there is no legislation preventing the wholesale immigration of Galactic citizens from all corners of the known Galaxy. Coruscant simply does not have the natural resources to support all of these people.

"Surely Corellia, Chandrila, and Alderaan have their own value as places to live. Surely their people do not absolutely need to live on Coruscant. If we had more of a representation in the Senate, due to our pre-existing population, I believe we would be able to protect our own interests to the benefit of Coruscant and the Republic."

Now it was Senator Bran-Lai of Chandrila who spoke, as he replaced Tedek at the dais. "The colonies found by sleeper-ships all those centuries ago are woefully behind the times when it comes to industry, and require a secure trading partner in the more advanced region that is the Coruscanti star system, and Coruscant itself.

"It is quite clear", he continued, "that many natural resources are being found on Coruscant itself, and it is important that all star systems in the Republic have a voice in how those resources are to be used, not just from Coruscant but some of its heavily mined moons and outlying planetoids."

The arguments continued, but Shim focused on Senator Wreth. Wreth held his hands in his lap as his aides whispered in his ear while he nodded from time to time. What is Wreth up to? wondered Shim. He surreptitiously reached out with the Force to sample the energy field around Wreth, but found only grayness and confusion. Shim frowned. He made a vow to himself: the Jedi order would be extremely careful in choosing sides in these strange times. How recently had the Jedi been a peaceful monastic order, seeking only to be closer to the Force? And how recently had the Jedi known exactly who their enemies were as they repulsed the Bogans from their stronghold on Tython?

He refocused on the argument on the Senate floor. Wreth finally had begun to speak. "Reapportionment is an ugly word, my colleagues, citizens," here he nodded to the crowded gallery. "It is important that every star system and indeed," and here he nodded to the selected Senators from other races separated from the human Senators and seated higher in the chamber, "every alien race have equal representation in the Senate.

"It is important that this Republic start on the right foot. If there are natural resources to utilize on Coruscant and elsewhere, we shall all decide equally how they are to be utilized. I call for a vote on this matter immediately before reapportionment arguments are allowed to fester in these chambers so soon after the joyous beginning of our Republic."

Wreth sat down, apparently satisfied with himself. He has some personal stake in this, thought Shim, but exactly what I cannot feel or see.

Ulmas took the dais again. "We shall vote on this matter, and the result shall be the first addendum to the Constitution of the Galactic Republic."

Ulmas' aide bellowed so all could hear. "Those who feel that discussions should continue on how many more Senators should be apportioned to the delegation of Coruscant, raise your hands," and then he thought for a moment as he looked beyond the humans at some of the few alien species represented, "or other appendages."

All heads turned as a few hands rose, including Tedek's.

"And all who believe Coruscant should be represented by only three Senators, as is every other star system."

Here a forest of hands shot up. Ulmas waited for silence and spoke. "It is decided then. We shall begin our era of peace with equality of every sort for the systems of the Galactic Republic. Coruscant shall be represented by Senators Wreth, as senior, and Tedek and Galtar." Here other men who just an hour ago had been Senators protested, but Ulmas' words, after he again waited for silence, were sharp. "That is my final decision on this matter."

Ulmas was helped down, and as if on cue, the gallery and then all Senators – past and present - filed out of the old Senate chambers.

Shim allowed himself to be moved with the crowd, keeping a safe and comfortable space around himself through the use of gentle Force persuasion. Interesting indeed, he mused. Perhaps Galtar's only motivation in speaking was to bring himself to the attention of the Chancellor. I shall keep a very close eye on this Senate's proceedings. And keep the Jedi Order out of politics as much as possible.

Twenty-Four:

Lan laid miserably on his side in a dark tent somewhere in the great Forest, hands and feet bound, every inch of his body aching. He had been beaten for information, then beaten for no other reason than he was a Jedi, and threatened with a lightsaber by a darkly-swathed figure whose only visible features were eyes than burned like glowing embers. Now they had left him alone as some sort of activity took place in the clearing outside of his tent. He had no idea where in this forest they could be keeping Uni-Dent. His only hope would be that the Jedi would miss him and send someone to rescue him.

Almost as if in answer to this yearning, a perfect circle was ripped in the back of the tent by an incredibly sharp blade, and a very familiar face poked through the opening.

"Shara Tavri, what in Coruscant's white Sun are you doing here?" he whispered with barely concealed glee, then coughed as his stomach spasmed painfully.

"Jedi trials, what can I say. I'm breaking you out of this place."

"But your signature in the Force will be so obvious, they'll come running any minute now. This area is swarming with dark-siders."

"Dark-stone," said Shara matter-of-factly, and held up some sort of gem that he could barely see in the darkness, as it glowed and pulsed a dark red. "Gift from Yeda."

She stepped gingerly through the opening after sheathing her Force-sharpened scimitar, and cut his bindings with a knife she had sheathed to her sturdy ankle.

Lan sat up and winced as he rubbed the raw skin where he had been bound.

"You look terrible, Lan," Shara said, touching his face briefly, gently, as he pulled away in pain. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," he said, and stood on wobbly legs. He drew a deep breath and tried to pull healing power from the Force. But it was to no avail, as the entire area was steeped in the Dark Side. "No matter. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, eh, Shara?"

Then, completely surprising Lan, Shara put her hands on his waist and kissed him on the lips, tenderly, and for only a moment. But Lan's heart leapt and he felt as strong as he ever was once again. He smiled as she moved away in the darkness. "Let's go Shara. But before we beat our escape, I think there's at least one lightsaber somewhere in this camp, and its Force signature is unmistakable. You game for a little payback?"

She nodded, smiling. They each moved to a side of the tent flap.

Lan cupped his hands around his mouth. "Guards, guards! Do I get some water here? Ohh," he moaned in almost false pain.

"Shut up Jedi," said one guard brusquely as he pushed through the flap. Lan and Shara's hands lanced out towards pressure points on his throat and torso, and he fell like a sack of melas-potatoes. They dragged the body to the center of the tent, then retook their positions. Sure enough, shortly another smaller eco-terrorist poked his head through the tent.

"Dranas?" he ventured quietly, drawing a blade. Immediately Lan grabbed him by the wrist and collar and Shara punched him in the diaphragm. His mouth dropped open as he gasped and Shara aimed a blow to the hinge of his jaw, breaking it and knocking the guard out.

They stripped the guards of their dark hooded robes – it was impossible to see if they were forest green or black in the dim light – and bound the two together with what rope remained that had held Lan. Then they dressed in the guards' garments.

Pulling their hoods over their heads, they ventured out into what looked like another of the gigantic clearings deep in the 'Lungs of Coruscant' that the eco-terrorists seemed to favor. Tents ringed the clearing, and a short distance away on the crescent of the clearing stood several jumpers. Standing in front of the tent where Lan had been held captive, they looked to all who looked their way like two eco-terrorists standing guard. Twilight was falling quickly.

"If we need to make a quick getaway, I scouted a pathway around the edge of the clearing, a bit into the woods, that leads to those jumpers," whispered Shara.

"Reach out with the Force and it will lead us to the weapon," hissed Lan.

They both centered themselves in the maelstrom that was the Dark Side that permeated the clearing. It was the most difficult exercise of Force usage either had ever performed, but they drew on each other's strength and purity of love, and soon a pulsing sensation came from one rather large tent on the edge of the clearing, half way to the jumpers.

"Come on, let's go. I don't sense anyone in there."

They tried to move as nonchalantly as possible towards the tent, and Shara pulled the flap aside as Lan poked his head in. His stomach turned to stone immediately. Several darkly cloaked figures sat inside, and turned to look at him as he looked in on their coven. Obviously, in this case Lan and Shara's perceptions hadn't been as strong in the Force as they would have liked.

The Bogans leapt to their feet as Lan beat a hasty retreat. "JEDI!" came the cry from inside the tent as Shara grabbed Lan's hand and pulled him towards the woods behind the tents. They dove through the brush between the trees as Shara pulled out her scimitar. They drew on the Force to give them speed as RPW fire popped and whirred all around them. Luckily they seemed to be able to stay one step ahead of the eco-terrorists' aim.

Lan and Shara ran around the concentric path, Shara whipping her blade ahead of her at supernatural speed to cut away anything that might block or trip them. She pulled Lan by his robe out of the woods to the side of the first jumper, which at the moment was unattended. They both leapt through the side door and made their way to the cockpit in the front.

"You ever fly one of these, Lan?" asked Shara breathlessly.

"You kidding? All part of Master Yo's indoctrination into the fighting arts."

"Good."

They began flipping switches and activated the thrusters that would lift the jumper above the tree line.

"Here we go," she muttered, and punched the ignition button, grasping the jumper's yoke. RPW and slug-thrower rounds peppered the side of the jumper and whistled through its open door behind them, but luck was on their side, at least for the moment, and they were not even grazed.

As soon as they had cleared the tree line, Shara shouted "Now!" and Lan punched the rotor activator. The twin rotors of the jumper spun to life, and they were carried by Shara's expert steering in the direction of the Jedi Temple far beyond the woods below and ahead of them.

"Here they come," shouted Lan, spotting two pursuing jumpers appearing above the tree line. "What's the plan? One rocket hit and we're a Trantcill's snack."

"Did you see those glide chutes in the cargo bay?" yelled Shara.

Lan nodded dubiously.

"Let's get this thing on auto-pilot and strap those things on, and jump. It's our only chance."

"Gotcha," cried Lan. For once he wasn't going to doubt someone's crazy plan. He hit the auto-pilot switch and followed her to the cargo bay. It seemed to take an eternity to put on the 'chutes, but they managed.

"Ok, Lan, here's the plan," shouted Shara, struggling to be heard above the wind that ripped at their hair and garments. "We get to the tree tops with these 'chutes, then bail and use the Force to slow our descent through the branches 'til we hit a solid branch. Then we climb down and try to get back to somewhere we can send for an airlift. Got it?"

Lan nodded, and Shara shoved him out of the bay doors and followed right behind, both immediately pulling their rip-cords. It wasn't a moment too soon, for above them they heard the blaze of a rocket that hit their abandoned jumper directly. The transport exploded in a shower of flame, and they had to reach out with the Force above them to deflect the most dangerous of the debris.

They skimmed above the foliage, the freezing wind whipping by their faces. Before they knew it, they were crashing into the treetops of the Forest. The pursuing jumper pilots hadn't seen them in the dark, and probably assumed they had been killed in the blast. That would work to their advantage.

Both padawans were jabbed and poked as they descended into the boughs of the tall etan-trees, and their chutes yanked at them as they snagged on branches. But they suffered no severe injuries, although Lan was rapidly becoming sore again, and all the stabs of branches weren't helping. He tried to be stoic and kept his silence. They discarded their torn and tangled glide chutes as they found solid footing on large boughs, on trees not too far from each other.

"Lan, you there?" called Shara.

"Right here. I guess we use the Force to jump down limb to limb 'til we get to the forest floor," Lan called back.

"That's the plan. Let's go."

That part of this entire exercise was relatively easy, resembling one of Master Yo's favorite training techniques, and they soon landed on the loam of the floor of the 'Lungs'. Shara lit a glow-beam hanging from her belt.

"This way," said Shara. "The Temple is like a beacon in the Force. We just follow it. You okay?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Fine. Fine. Let's go."

Shara looked around for a moment, and then started to head off when Lan stopped her. "Shara?"

"Yes Lan?" she said, turning back to face him.

"In the tent, where I was spotted…"

"Yes?" she said, becoming concerned.

"I saw Uni. With the other Bogans."

She nodded as if acknowledging a known fact. "I know, Lan. The Council's given up on him. My mission was to find you. And then report back."

Here she hesitated, then blurted out, "But when I saw how they'd been treating you, I knew I had to rescue you."

Lan smiled. "Brilliant plan, that."

She pretended to frown, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "I got you out of there, didn't I?"

Lan grimaced and rubbed his sore shoulder. "No, I'm actually serious, Shara. It was complete improvisation, but you pulled it off. The Force is strong in you."

"Yes, Master Yeda." She laughed, her pearly white teeth glowing in the gloom. "Now let's go."

They padded through the Forest for what seemed to be hours, Shara slashing aside thorny growths and brush, Lan occasionally stumbling from the sheer exhaustion of his ordeal. They were kept company by the bobbing glowing lights that were the noses of glow monkeys and the whirring of hawk bat wings. Once they heard the terrifying cry of a Trantcill, but they were safely covered in the womb of the Forest. All they had to do was avoid the natives and the spider-lions.

And that's when it happened. A pair of akash burst through the woods ahead of them, and before they could react, a six-legged spider-lion chasing the docile beasts appeared. Lan stiffened and Shara assumed the ready stance, knees bent, scimitar held in front with two hands. They were woefully under-armed to deal with this threat.

"What now?" hissed Lan. There is no emotion, only peace, Lan thought, trying to master his fear.

Suddenly, as the spider-lion let the akash go and slowly advanced on the pair of young Jedi-to-be, Shara dropped her blade to her side.

"What are you doing?" whispered Lan incredulously.

And then Shara began to sing. Lan had never heard her sing. It began tentatively at first, but then Shara dropped her blade and spread her arms, and as she tilted back her head the most beautiful, mournful notes, notes with no words, emanated from her mouth. All around, the forest grew silent as the glow monkeys and the akash listened to her song. The spider-lion still advanced, but was tilting its head to the side, unsure of what to make of this strange, beautiful creature in front of it. Lan's jaw dropped, then his eyes closed and he rocked side-to-side, similarly affected by the unexpected song.

Lan opened his eyes. The song seemed to take the form of colors, wrapping themselves around the trunks of the trees all around and crawling up like vines. The notes reached out to the spider-lion's inner being as Shara extended a yearning arm towards it. The song reached a crescendo, then dropped mellifluously to a conclusion at a very satisfying and beautiful low tone.

Lan looked in quiet amazement as the spider-lion dropped down on its front four knees and lowered its eyes to the ground.

"We can go now," said Shara simply as she picked up and sheathed her blade.

"What do we do now, ride it?" asked Lan.

"Don't be ridiculous. We're lucky to get out of here with our lives. Let's go." She bowed deeply to the spider-lion, and they proceeded in a large arc around him as the forest slowly came to life again.

They encountered no more resistance until they reached the edge of the 'Lungs' many hours later. Coruscant's small white sun was rising. They sat and looked at the devastation wrought by the loggers and miners between themselves and the city, but somehow that didn't bother them at the moment due to their incredible relief to be out of the Forest alive.

Shara pulled out a communicator and called for an airlift. Lan looked sideways at her with gratitude. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"For what?" she asked.

"Saving my life," he said simply.

She looked at him a moment, then kissed him quickly on the lips.

He didn't know what to say, he was so taken aback. Her signs of affection were constantly bewildering and wonderfully surprising.

"Thanks," he said again, sheepishly.

"Oh Lan, you really need to grow up a bit," she laughed, turning her eyes to the sky. The rebuke stung, but Lan didn't know whether to treat it as a simple joke or an insult. He finally decided to turn to his Jedi training and let the hurt fade like all emotions eventually did, if one had the courage to let go of them. He turned his eyes to the sky and they waited for their airlift in courage.

Twenty-Five:

In one of the larger chambers in the dungeons of the Senate building, a hearing was being held on the nature of the attacks on the loggers and miners on the fringes of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. Squirming in his chair, Mina Talth, land steward, sat beside sage legal counsel and one very scruffy-looking individual who stared glumly into his fidgeting hands as if they held the answers to some sort of inscrutable question he was pondering.

These individuals sat at a broad table facing a wide dais boasting a long, heavy etan-wood table, behind which sat Senators Wreth and Tedek of the Committee of the Interior, along with Chancellor Ulmas, as well as several scribes and minor officials. Ulmas had graced the Committee with his presence due to the importance of the testimony to be heard, and it was now Ulmas who cleared his throat, and spoke.

"Mina Talth, land steward of the 'Lungs of Coruscant', you have our full attention."

Talth took a deep breath to calm himself, nervously pulled on his ear, placed his hands before him on the table, near his messy pile of papers, and spoke.

"I asked Senator Wreth to impress upon you the need to call this meeting, Chancellor Ulmas, and I am most honored to be in the presence of such wise and powerful leaders. I have information which is of the utmost importance to the Republic, and I believe I can frame it best among all the individuals involved.

"We all know of the numerous attacks of so-called 'eco-terrorists' upon our loggers and miners who are trying to make an honest living at the frontier of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. Although I do not share the belief that this precious natural resource should be used and misused as it has been of late, I believe that human - even non-human - life is also of the utmost value in our Republic." Here Talth looked at the rough individual to his right. "The loggers and miners are men trying to make their way honestly in our grand Republic, and require that they be protected to the best of our abilities. I feel as the warden of the 'Lungs', it is my responsibility when there is a problem as grave as the question of the eco-terrorists in my Forest."

Talth paused, took a drink of water, and continued.

"It has come to my attention that certain unnatural forces are at work here, Senators, Chancellor. There are those among the attackers on our working brethren here," he nodded to the man to his right, who it was becoming clear was either a logger or a miner, "who possess abilities that we until now thought were the sole province of the Jedi."

A murmur of consternation rose from the powerful men sitting on the raised dais. Ulmas turned and eyed Wreth, who simply shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. All eyes then turned back to Talth.

"I have here with me today an individual who witnessed a most alarming attack on a group of loggers short weeks ago. What he will tell you will chill you to the very bone, for we are dealing with an enemy that cannot be stopped by conventional means. And now I will turn your attention to my guest. Melias?"

The craggy man to Talth's right stirred from his inspection of his hands and faced the men on the dais for the first time. It was clear he was completely out of his element, wanting nothing more than to be back with his fellow workers, perhaps drinking an ale in a rough tavern on the borders of the ruined territory to the North of the 'Lungs'.

But Melias steeled himself, and spoke in a heavy brogue, quietly at first. "It was a clear morning, m'lords. We were looking at a good day's work, no problems reported, no movements nor nothin' of the sort." His voice gained some force.

"Then, like ghosts from the forest, they struck. Th' nateeves, felling my men like saplings with ther arrows. We fought back, slug throwers mostly, firing as best we could at the moving targets. But we're not warriers, m'lordships," he exclaimed helplessly.

"Then I saw him. Black as night, face painted dark, moving so fast you could barely see him long enough t'get a clear shot. I was on Tython, m'lords." Here there was a murmur of surprise from the officials.

"We called them Bogans, on Tython. A lot of us fought 'long side the Jedi, the lords of the Ashla. We had to, y'see. It was one side or the other, and I figured I'd lived with the Jedi around long enough to know they were decent enough folk, although strange as the day is long.

"This demon of the woods was a Bogan if I ever saw one, m'lords. He ran to my left. I took a few shots at him, but he was too fast. Moved like the wind. He jumped on Lomas' rig. Lomas was my matey, fought with me on Tython. He was a bit of a nutter, thought he was strong in Ashla, who knows, maybe he was." Melias sighed hopelessly.

"The Bogan ran him straight through. There was a blast, don't know how. Lomas was crafty, maybe he rigged the blast. The Bogan got away, but I think he was hurt. I didn't really have time to stan' around and gawk, did I, your excellencies? But the thing was," and here his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned forward over his chapped fists. "He was carrying a blade made of light, bright as Coruscant's moon. And I'd hird of this blade. Other Bogans. They cut through everything, these blades: slug throwers, pikes, swords, men, what have you. This Bogan, he had one. I'm tellin' ya, the men are a'feared for their lives even more than before."

Satisfied that he had conveyed all he had to tell, Melias sat back and crossed his stout arms over his broad chest.

Talth cleared his throat. "If I may, your Excellency?"

Chancellor Ulmas bowed his head gravely.

Talth spoke. "I think it is clear we need to enlist the aid of the Jedi in this matter. I know they are partial to those that want to save the 'Lungs', at least the moderates, but they are the only ones who can deal with this kind of threat. In fact, some say these Bogans have already engaged them in some way, raided their temple." As Ulmas raised his eyebrows and Senators Wreth and Tedek looked at each other dubiously, Talth continued, "Of course that's just what I've heard."

"The Jedi have their own problems, as we know," sighed Ulmas. And indeed, all had heard of the renegade Jedi, wanted for murder, who had mysteriously disappeared from the Jedi Order's very grasp.

Talth spoke quickly, "But some say the Bogans are the ones responsible for the murdering Jedi's disappearance, that he's gone to their side…"

"You will allow me to finish!" hissed Ulmas in the forceful whisper he was known for in his later years. "We all know the rumors. But the Jedi keep their own council, and they must be approached most carefully and judiciously. However, Warden Talth, we understand your stake in this matter, and your honesty, and the testimony of Master Melias here," he waved a thin finger in the logger's direction, which Melias acknowledged with a curt, respectful nod, "will be kept under advisement. I shall consult with Senators Wreth and Tedek here and we will inform you of our course of action. But I must warn you that all communications between this body and yourself must be kept in the utmost of confidence. You are….dismissed."

With this, Ulmas left through a door behind the raised platform and left the Committee of the Interior to its own ruminations. Talth looked to his council and the logger, and with a shrug collected his papers, rose and preceded the two out of the chamber.

Several hours later, a guard lifted the blindfold off of Talth's eyes, and he squinted in the gloom of the tent, deep in the Forest, where he stood in the presence of the Dark Jedi known only as Revenant, and several of his cohorts.

"Tell me everything", hissed Revenant from beneath his swaths of dark cloth that covered him head to toe, except for the alarming orange glow emanating from his eye holes.

"I did as you told, my Lord," said Talth in as calm a voice as he could muster. "I'm sure the Senate will approach the Jedi and ask them to take sides with them against the eco-terrorists and yourselves. But why, I must ask again, do you wish this. The Jedi are a powerful enemy…"

"Silence!" spat Revenant. "The Jedi must be destroyed, and they will be, but to do this effectively they must be aligned squarely against us and our growing might. They will be discredited for their hypocritical stance against the environmentalists, and then they will be destroyed." Revenant raised a clenched, heavily bandaged hand to punctuate the point.

"Very well, my Lord. And…"

"And what of Senator Wreth?" oozed Revenant, and Talth could imagine him smiling in amusement. "Your arrangement with him remains profitable for you?"

Talth was amazed that Revenant cared. "Thank you, Lord Revenant, yes. Wreth cares only that the Forest be destroyed and that we profit from the logging and the mining, and this development will only increase the chances of that happening. With the Jedi aligned against your eco-terrorists…"

"Yes, yes, we all know. Very good. So, Talth, you have done well, and now…"

Talth interrupted Revenant cautiously. "Sir, may I ask, what…"

"What did the Jedi ever do to me?" mused Revenant, then bellowed in peals of hollow laughter that was echoed by the men seated around the tent. Talth laughed nervously without knowing why.

"I shall tell you, Talth, since you have been most helpful to my cause." Revenant paced the tent. "I was once an ordinary man, on Tython. You have heard of Tython? Of course, the great Force Wars. Well, I was a Bogan, a follower of Boga. We believed in the right of the individual to pursue happiness, to be one with natural emotions and healthy appetites." With this, Revenant for some reason glanced to an auburn-haired figure seated at the table in the center of the tent. Talth started. It was none other than Uni-Dent, the Jedi wanted throughout all of Coruscant for murder. Though why Revenant had chosen to look at him that moment, Talth did not know.

"In any event," continued Revenant, now peering into a distant memory, rapidly becoming lost in the mists of history, "we lived for centuries side by side with the followers of Ashla, misguided sorcerers. They believed against hope that they could bring peace to the galaxy. And they were powerful, capable of speaking with their minds to one another over great distances, able to heal injuries both to themselves and to others, and to see through the veil of time. But," Revenant paused. "All they saw as they looked to the future was more misery, more turmoil. For us Bogans, we were at peace with the passion and chaos that is nature, but it terrified the Ashla. Then came the Jedi."

"Didn't the Jedi originate on Tython?" interrupted Talth.

"A common misconception. No, the Jedi came to our world half a century ago, and rapidly recruited the followers of Ashla to their ranks. Soon, the two groups became indistinguishable. The Jedi, too, spoke of Ashla, and for the first time gave all fools hope that they would venture out into the Galaxy, spreading peace. Peace," spat Revenant, "peace that they would not give us Bogans.

"We had had many border strifes with the Ashla over the centuries, but none of any consequence. Generally we left them to their delusions, and they let us be. But the Jedi, oh, once the Jedi Order had grown powerful on Tython, they decided that the best thing for us would be to succumb to their notion of how one should use what you know as the Force. For we Bogans were strong in that regard. The Jedi, they knew what was best for us. So they came to our villages, stole our children. We fought back. And then the extermination of our kind began. So, we fought. And fought. And eventually were driven from our home-world out into the cold Galaxy.

"I was a general in the Force Wars of Tython. In my desire to save my people, I sought all manner of dark knowledge to aid my cause, the results of which you now see." Revenant motioned to his wrappings. "But I am at peace with what the Boga has done to my physical appearance. Some say it is because my power runs unchecked, but I say it is because I embody the full wonder of the Boga. The so-called 'Dark Side of the Force'. But, Talth," and here Revenant lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he placed a bandaged hand on the Warden's shoulder. Talth shuddered inwardly.

Revenant continued, whispering in Talth's ear. "I will tell you a secret, Mina Talth. There is no Dark Side. There is only the Force. The natural order of the universe. And the men you see in this room embody that power. And we will bring destruction to those who wish to subjugate the Galaxy to their narrow, spirit-crushing view of how nature is to be used. That is why the Jedi will face us here on Coruscant. Not to right any wrong. But because they speak of loving nature, but only nature that has been carefully hedged, and clipped, and weeded, and subjugated. Do you now understand, my dear Warden Talth?" mused Revenant.

"Yes, yes, I see now. I will do anything I can to help."

"Good. Well, time to go, Warden."

A guard strode behind Talth and roughly pulled the blindfold back over Talth's eyes. The Warden was led out of the tent to a waiting Jumper.

Revenant turned to the others in the room.

"Don't you think you told him a bit too much?" asked Uni-Dent.

"Nonsense, dear Uni. He won't tell a soul. He has too much to lose. Including, his life." Here Revenant laughed gales of unearthly laughter, and the others in the tent joined in an uproarious shout.

"To battle, then," said Revenant, and he strode through the flaps of the tent pulled aside by guards, to speak of strategy with the eco-terrorists and the natives.

Twenty-Six:

Jedi Masters Shim, Yo and Yeda moved peacefully through the strangely empty Great Plaza on their way to the Senate. If there was anything amiss in the mood of those few citizens hurrying around them, the Masters were too preoccupied to notice.

Shim spoke. "I have called you to accompany myself because Chancellor Ulmas has directly requested of the Jedi that we join forces with security forces and the newly developed military in response to excursions by the eco-terrorists."

If the other two Jedi Masters were surprised by this announcement, they did not betray it, but simply listened.

"This request led me to meditate on the matter," continued Shim, "meditate more deeply than ever in my existence. For this request led me to questions on the nature of our Jedi Order, and our Order's relationship to nature, and to evil. As my mind was at peace and my spirit wandered the landscape of the Force, I came to a gateway in a veil of darkness, a gateway I only dared look through. For to pass beyond the veil would have led to my spirit being lost forever.

"Beyond consular Sar Agorn's philosophy of shadows, or the Boga we knew of on Tython, or even your teachings on the Dark Side of the Force, my friends, I had found proof of a Dark Side of the Force diametrically opposed to all that we stand for. This Dark Side consists of selfishness, of evil, of power sought for its own ends. The power of the Dark Side is vast, and quickly accessed so that it consumes and overpowers those that seek it, twisting their mind and spirit. If we are to be the candle in the face of this maelstrom, we must turn our shoulders and align ourselves squarely against this Dark Side, forevermore."

At this proclamation, Yo and Yeda raised their eyebrows but continued to listen to the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

"Both of you have spoken of and warned students against this Dark Side, and I am sorry I did not listen to your teachings more closely myself. For this I apologize, Masters Yeda and Yo." The two Masters nodded.

"I have recorded my findings in the Great Holocron, on the instructions of Sar Agorn, who is currently continuing his quest among the stars to find more Force-users like ourselves and turn them to the Light. We now know most completely that what we face is to be known as the Dark Side of the Force, and that our enemies most likely already revel in this knowledge. And I have made a decision, which is why you are now accompanying me.

"We are to join the Republic in its fight against the eco-terrorists and the Bogan of the 'Lungs of Coruscant.' Despite our feelings concerning the need to preserve the natural resource that is the 'Lungs', our priority must be in fighting the Dark Side."

Yo spoke. "So we are going to speak to Chancellor Ulmas?"

"Yes, Master Yo," answered Shim. "They are currently debating Republic politics within the Senate hall, but when they are finished we are to meet the Chancellor in his chambers to make our pledge. I need you both with me, for there was not enough time to convene the Jedi Council on this matter. Time, you see, is of the essence."

Yeda spoke. "But Grand Master Shim, most irregular, this is. Convene the Council on such a matter, we should."

"When members of the Council consult the Great Holocron for themselves, they shall see the wisdom of my decision. But I did not want to walk the path of individual defiance, for that leads to the Dark Side as well. That is why I needed you both to hear me out. Do you agree with my decision?"

"Agree, I do," said Yeda.

"I am with you, Grand Master," added Yo.

"And here we are," said Shim, motioning to the grand steps leading up between the towering pillars of the Senate. The Jedi climbed the steps, noting the many guards bearing pikes and carrying long-bows patrolling the structure. They were admitted through the doors leading to the Senate hall by two pike-wielding sentries. Once through, they discretely turned to the right and joined the few spectators in the gallery.

Inside, the Senate floor was in a tumult of discussion. Even the non-human senators were walking among their human contemporaries as various pockets of opinion formed and reformed in the great hall. Senator Wreth, as usual, seemed to be in the center of the commotion, while it was noted by the Jedi that Tedek alone sat with his thoughts, not engaging any of the other Senators in argument or deliberation.

The three Jedi Masters were accosted by an old, grizzled man in a brown tunic and leather skull-cap. Shim had encountered him before in previous visits to the Great Hall and found his boundless enthusiasm for all things political rather tiresome.

"Did you hear?" asked the old man with the glee of an ordinary citizen caught up in the middle of momentous history. "A bomb went off this morning not a kilometer from here in a shopping district. Right outside the Five Moons restaurant. One hundred dead, at least, three hundred injured."

The Jedi Masters recoiled in horror and surprise. Master Yeda shook his head sadly, peering at the ground. "Terrible, terrible," was all he could say.

"Indeed," answered Shim, and set his jaw in steely resolve. Now, more than ever, he knew the course of action he was taking was correct. The Republic needed the Jedi.

"That's not all," continued the old man breathlessly. "Wreth has introduced a bill. The 'Lungs' are to be razed to the ground, so we can find the eco-terrorists. We're going to track down the source of their funding. The Natives are going to be rounded up in camps until we can be sure they're not going to take any more Republic lives." The old man ticked off the points of the bill on his fingers as he talked. "They're to be assimilated into society, taught real skills. Even Tedek's going along with it this time, even with the strip-mining and logging riders."

At that moment, the pompous voice of Wreth could be heard intoning above the din, "…lommite for building materials, cortosis for weapons and armor…."

Then Wreth turned and spotted the Jedi Masters from the floor, his eyes widening with glee. "And look, my dear fellow Senators. The Jedi have come in our time of need, surely to pledge their aid against the Bogans!"

A wave of applause began as the Senators all turned to look up at the gallery, one by one standing as the clapping became a rhythmic call for the Jedi to be heard. For the first time, Shim felt that events were conspiring to drive him towards some unknown destination, like a river pulling him towards the edge of a deadly waterfall. "This is most irregular," he muttered to no one in particular.

Chancellor Ulmas rose and gradually quieted the Senators by raising his hands and motioning downwards with his palms. Finally, when he could be heard, he addressed Shim directly. "Grand Master Shim, we were to meet in my chambers, but perhaps what you have to say can be addressed to this entire august body, for I believe it concerns all of us. Indeed, all of the Republic."

Shim again felt the uncomfortable pull of destiny, but put all of his trust in the Force as he made his way down to the dais in front of the Chancellor. Ulmas smiled with satisfaction as Shim turned to face the crowd, gripping the edges of the podium as he thought of words to match the occasion. He thought of the first time he had faced this hall, from this dais, as a Jedi consular, ten years ago, as diplomatic relations were first established between the Jedi of Tython and the Interstellar Confederacy. The groundwork had been laid that day for the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to be built, at that time as a sort of embassy.

He waited for complete silence, and it came, a vacuum of silence as every human and non-human in the hall held their collective breath.

Shim spoke. "The Jedi pledge the services of their swordsmen as Jedi Guardians, guardians of the Galactic Republic."

The joyous shout from the one hundred and twenty-three Senators was as deafening as the silence that had preceded it as all jumped to their feet and began to wildly applaud the Jedi Master. He struggled to be heard above the din. "We will join the Republic in the fight against the eco-terrorists and the Bogan, until they have been defeated to the last man. And we will watch over the Republic, consulars and guardians and watchmen alike, to the end of our days."

Shim looked up to his fellow Masters, and Yo and Yeda gravely nodded their approval. There was no turning back now. The fates of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order were now inextricably, eternally bound.

Twenty-Seven:

Lan and Shara stood huddled against the night cold of Coruscant atop the Jedi Temple's observation tower. It was a beautiful night otherwise; two of Coruscant's five moons hung low in the sky, and on the horizon sat the smallest, Settius. The orange glow from the city obscured all but the brightest of stars. Behind them bulged the twelve-sided Jedi Council chambers, and on the watch tower at the southern end of the Temple, a Jedi Guardian stood silent watch, pike in hand. If he noticed the two lovers at all, he gave no indication of it.

Lan thrilled at Shara's nearness, but had no courage to stand closer, instead contenting himself to look out at the winking lights of the nearby skyscrapers. When he was first shown this vantage, by Master Yeda at age ten, one could see much further. "I'm so glad I was brought to Coruscant," he mused suddenly. "All the action's here. On Corellia, if you're not a pilot you lead a pretty dull life." He coughed a laugh to punctuate his point.

"Jedi aren't supposed to seek 'action', Lan," kidded Shara, nudging him with her shoulder. "And besides, I'd think you'd had enough in the Forest," she said more seriously.

He didn't respond, moving instead to the other side of the tower, and was rewarded with a view beyond the Jedi Temple of a plain of utter desolation stretching South, and beyond that the remainder of the 'Lungs of Coruscant' extending to the horizon. Below, a thin ribbon of sparsely wooded, heavily guarded hills snaked its way from the Temple's grove to the edge of the Great Forest. Unable to log the hills, the Republic instead deemed their valley a way for the Jedi to rapidly deploy to the edge of the 'Lungs' where needed. To the South-East and South-West, gigantic construction projects were already underway – huge pits for the foundations of mega-skyscrapers for Coruscant's burgeoning population.

Lan and Shara gazed silently to the South, and Shara was growing somewhat bored when Lan ventured to snake an arm around her waist. She gave a sudden movement, and he was terrified that she was going to throw his arm off of herself in disdain, but to his great joy she was instead grabbing his arm and pulling it around herself as she pushed her lean body against his. She turned and smiled enigmatically at Lan, and he responded with a broad smile of relief and gratitude.

They stood there for a while like that, heads together, neither speaking. Suddenly Shara felt Lan disengage himself and move away.

"Is it getting too cold, Lan?" Shara asked as she turned around.

Instead she found him down on one knee, holding up to her some sort of small box, his forehead creased, his expression earnest.

Shara hugged herself and laughed, looking around nervously. "Lan, what are you doing? You don't have to do this…"

"If we are to be married, I want to do this right Shara," Lan responded. He opened the box.

Inside was a ring of two circular bands of some sort of orange-colored alloy winding around themselves. Shara gasped. "Is that cortosis?" she exclaimed, recognizing the metal from the rare weapon or armor Master Yo had shown them at times containing that metal.

But Lan was not to be distracted. "Shara Tavri, will you marry me?" he said simply.

To Lan's delight, Shara Tavri did not laugh, but instead smiled kindly. "Of course Lan, of course!"

Lan leapt to his feet and eagerly slid the ring onto her left ring finger, and pocketed the container in his voluminous robes.

He moved closer, looking down at the ring on her extended hand.

"How did you afford this, Lan?" she wondered dreamily.

"I know this armorer that I've sort of been friends with for a couple of years, and he offered to make it for me out of some of his scrap, not that it's junk!" he added hastily at her doubtful frown. "He just has some ore left over after he fashions a blade or a breastplate. The ore is from an area that was mined when the 'Lungs' were first being logged."

"Well at least some good came from that," sighed Shara. "No, it's wonderful, Lan!" she said quickly at the look of disappointment on his face. "Really, it's the most beautiful ring a girl ever got."

"It took the armorer a week to make it. Cortosis is pretty stiff stuff," Lan explained lamely.

Shara felt rotten for making Lan feel badly at all about the ring he had put on her finger, so she tried to make him feel better the best way she knew how. She drew him to her lithe body, wrapped him in her arms and kissed him deeply on the lips. They held the kiss for an eternity, and the power flowing between them erased any doubt, any disappointment, any awkwardness.

Twenty-Eight:

It was a week after the burial of Mistress Yariana. Lan Hewan and Shara Tavri's wedding was to be held on a bitterly cold Coruscant morning in one of the larger courtyards in the Jedi Temple. A translucent white tarp had been spread above the congregants, as one of the capitol region atmospheric scrubbers had malfunctioned and the region was being pelted with dirty, acidic rain.

Two sets of chairs stood facing a hastily erected altar, with a corridor between the seats leading from an unusually ornate stone doorway. Seated in the front were the five members of the Jedi Council - besides Ald - currently residing in the Temple, clad in white robes laced with gold thread. Behind them sat those Jedi not guarding the entrances to the Temple, and in the back most of the padawans, many tending to those younglings old enough to participate.

At the altar, Lan stood nervously, shivering in ceremonial white robes, noting in dismay that all of the Jedi Masters looked unusually somber. His childhood friend Bernian stood at his left side, having flown in from Ossus for just this occasion. Facing the congregants, Master of Ceremonies Arn-fin Ald stood beaming, occasionally plucking at a white sleeve or reviewing an archaic scroll found in the Temple archives for just the day's purpose. Bernian grabbed Lan from behind by the shoulders and shook him jovially, leaning into his ear and saying with only a hint of irony, "It's a great day to get married, Lan!"

Suddenly there was a murmur among those assembled, like wind through autumn leaves, as all heads turned to see Shara entering from the doorway, moving slowly and purposely, clad in a hooded white robe and holding a spray of white bush-orchids obtained from the botanical gardens. Behind her followed two padawan hand-maidens, her childhood friends at the Temple.

As she approached, Lan noted in her almond eyes an intense glow born of embarking on a commitment from which there is no return. She stared straight ahead as she moved, step by measured step, to the altar to face Lan. Her handmaidens moved to stand behind her.

Lan moved forward and carefully pulled back her hood, revealing her shining hair pulled back in a bun skewered by a silver pin. As he did so her eyes softened, becoming almost limpid as she smiled and tilted her head to let her cheek brush his hand as he pulled away. She looked up with kindness at his broad, honest face and gave him a little wink, at which he flushed as they turned to face Master Ald.

Ald looked up from his scroll and spoke in a deep, booming voice so all could hear. "We are gathered here today to join these two Jedi in matrimony born of Ashla, the spirit of Light, so that their spirits may merge and become thus stronger in the service of the light." The scroll that Ald read from was old indeed, dating to Jedi weddings on Tython before the Force Wars.

Ald continued, speaking of the responsibility of the two Jedi to bear forth another generation of Jedi to serve the Light, to be a beacon in the face of the darkness, but Lan was drifting off in a reverie of happiness as he gazed sideways at the face of his beloved,

who was listening intently to Ald and did not notice Lan.

"Lan," spoke Ald, and there were a few chuckles from the crowd as Lan snapped back to attention, facing forward. "Do you enter into this bond with Shara in a union of goodness, pledging always to treat her with justice and fairness?"

"I do," rasped Lan, and then coughed to clear his suddenly dry throat.

Lan and Shara felt themselves slowly being carried forward by a wave of peaceful joy emanating from the seated Jedi as they began to speak their vows. Lan snuck a peek at those seated, and saw that even the Jedi Masters were allowing themselves grudging smiles, perhaps thinking of weddings of old on Tython, the recollections of which they had thought lost in the mists of their memories. No-one wept, however. These were Jedi, after all.

"Shara," intoned Ald, "do you enter this union bearing no attachment to Lan but rather pledging full service to the light of Ashla when you express your affection for him and your offspring?"

"I do," said Shara as she nodded and smiled coquettishly at Lan.

"Lan," continued Ald, "do you pledge that your union with Shara shall be in service to the light of Ashla, and that if her earthly body shall fall away and she shall join the Force, that you will not mourn but rather rejoice in her passing?"

"I do," said Lan with some difficulty.

"And Shara, shall you do the same?" demanded Ald.

"Yes…I do." stammered Shara.

"Very well," said Ald, smiling. He put down the scroll on a small table to his side. "Do we have the rings?"

Bernian and Shara's handmaiden Cassala handed over two simple rings of polished Bronzium alloy that Lan and Shara had picked out in a market a few days earlier.

Ald gripped the wrists of the two betrothed and guided them so that Lan and Shara's hands were held out palms downward. Ald nodded smoothly, his eyes hooded with satisfaction, and motioned for the two to slide the rings onto each other's left hands, which they did, awkwardly.

As the ceremony rushed by, the two Jedi felt strangely calm, although whether this was due to their training, or that they had not yet grasped the enormity of the occasion as it occurred, they would later be unable to say.

Master Ald placed his hands on Lan and Shara's heads and closed his eyes, intoning, "Let the strength of this union be as the metal of the rings Lan Hewan and Shara Hewan now wear for the rest of their natural days."

He then spoke the words repeated through time immemorial at the close of a billion weddings throughout the galaxy. "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

The newlyweds embraced and shared a chaste kiss as applause rose from the congregation, now on their feet. Shara wheeled around and hugged her handmaidens as Lan turned and vigorously shook hands and slapped shoulders with Bernian. An irrepressible smile on his face, Lan looked for his master and was rewarded with the sight of Master Yeda cackling with glee and stamping the ground with his gimli stick. Lan threw his head back and laughed and went to embrace his master, feeling a lightness of spirit he would never feel again.

Twenty-Nine:

An-Yen Shim, newly demoted from his position as Grand Master of the Jedi by the Jedi Council due to the actions he took without their knowledge, and Yeda, his newly appointed successor, proceeded across the Grand Plaza on another cool Coruscant morning.

Assembled by a large fountain in a green park on the Eastern edge of the Plaza, in front of a brilliant new office tower, was a large group of protestors, most of them long-haired students clad in the style of young environmentalists – loose green tunics tucked into looser breeches. They held signs protesting the imminent destruction of the 'Lungs of Coruscant', and chanted their slogans with unflagging energy. 'Without the trees we cannot breathe!' was one sign that particularly impressed Shim.

The two Jedi masters made their way to the protest, seeking Aleeas Isme, leader of the moderate environmentalists and friend of the Jedi. They found him sitting on the ground, consulting a fellow protestor in hushed tones. When he saw the two Jedi, his face lit up, and he jumped to his feet.

"Masters Shim and Yeda, you honor us with your presence!" he cried, shaking their hands vigorously. "And give some credibility to what we are doing here, I might add," he drawled. "They won't let us protest in front of the Senate. If you look over there, you'll see quite a large contingent of Senate guards. We're just waiting for them to come over here and disperse us, the thugs, but for now we've been left in peace."

Yeda and Shim sat down cross-legged next to Isme, their backs erect, their hands on their knees.

"We've come to warn you, Aleeas," began Shim in a gentle tone. "We are privy to some, though not all, of the dealings in the Senate, and the winds have changed in a direction not at all favorable to your cause."

"Come now, Shim," said Isme, still beaming, "I remember but a few weeks ago you said we had the Jedi's whole-hearted support. Now that you are officially aligned with the Republic, surely you have some influence over the Senators."

But Isme's face clouded when he saw the dour expression on Shim's face, and the look of worried resignation on Grand Master Yeda's complexion.

"Don't tell me that you're going along with this destruction of the 'Lungs'?" asked Isme incredulously, in a lower tone so as not to alarm the young protestors all around him, who were now chanting 'The Forest lives if the Senate gives!'

"Listen, Masters," continued the last voice of reason protecting the Lungs, "we have atmospheric scrubbers, true, but you know as well as I do that over time the atmosphere on Coruscant will become increasingly sterile and difficult to breathe without the 'Lungs' processing Carbon Dioxide naturally. People don't complain now because the 'Lungs' are still doing their job!" The word "Lungs" sounded amusingly like "Langs" in Isme's Southern Coruscanti accent, though neither Jedi was laughing.

"Yes, Aleeas," began Shim, but Isme cut him off.

"Beg your pardon, sir, but there are a hundred reasons why Coruscant won't survive without the 'Lungs', and I know you've heard them all before, but let me ask, what happened but a week ago when one of the 'scrubbers over Capitol City malfunctioned? Cloudy skies spurting dirty, acid rain. The factories belch their pollutants in the air, and who can guarantee that that air will always be purified?"

"Right, you are," interjected Yeda for the first time. "But aligned against the Bogan, we must be." Yeda looked particularly mournful. "Trapped by circumstances, we are."

"But you are Jedi!" cried Isme, now no longer caring who heard him. "You are the wisest group of philosophers in the Galaxy! Surely you can see a way out of this!"

"The truth of it is, Isme," spoke Shim smoothly, over steepled fingers, "the survival of the Republic is of utmost importance if the Galaxy is to be at all livable, now that so many worlds are being connected by hyperspace travel. The danger of complete lawlessness is always present. And the eco-terrorists pose a grave threat to the government's ability to preserve order."

"Yes," said Isme sadly, bowing his head, "I met with Rain Or, leader of the eco-terrorists. He would not listen to reason. He does not understand that his actions are bringing about the destruction of the 'Lungs of Coruscant' more quickly than logging and mining concerns ever could. But, I refuse to believe that the cause is lost either way. As long as there are good people, good young people," and here he motioned to the energetic student protestors around him, "fighting for the cause within the law, perhaps we can sway public opinion enough that something will be done."

"Let us hope so, my friend," murmured Shim. "But we need to get you into the Senate to plead your case, for I believe the protest is coming to end."

"Wha?" gasped Isme, looking up incredulously as a large contingent of Senate guards and irregular police began surrounding the protestors.

"This disturbance is to be ended immediately at the order of the Chancellor and the Senate of the Republic," said the Captain of the Guard, a tall man in a bronzium helmet and breastplate, in strident tones while student protestors were yanked to their feet. As protestors were having their hands bound behind their backs and led to waiting prisoner transport vehicles, the Captain approached the Jedi and Isme, who was shouting orders for the protestors to go peaceably.

"This one too," ordered the Captain, pointing at Isme and motioning to another guard to come forward.

All three men climbed to their feet. Shim waved in the air in front of him, as if brushing aside a fly. "You don't need to take this man," he said, simply.

"We don't need to take this man," said the Captain, changing his order. The guard that had been approaching appeared puzzled, but did not contradict the Captain.

"He can go with us," smiled Shim.

"You can go with them," said the Captain to Isme, and the two Jedi and the leader of the moderate environmentalists hurried towards the Senate before the police could change their mind.

"I can't just leave them all behind," said Isme, urgently. "I should be with them."

"You do them more good speaking in the Senate, Aleeas," said Shim.

Yeda nodded gravely. "Quickly, we must go."

Isme looked back one last time , helplessly, as the Senate guards and irregulars rounded up the last of the students, whose tattered banners lay on the ground, trampled and muddy.

Thirty:

The two Jedi Masters and Isme walked through the corridors of the Senate building. They had been searched at the entrance of the Senate, and two guards had attempted to unceremoniously take Master Shim's scimitar. With some gentle Force persuasion the guards had been convinced that this was not necessary.

Now they stood before the double doors of one of the Senate chambers. The door was flanked by two more guards in breastplate and helmet, both holding pikes with bows and quivers of arrows strapped to their backs. Shim marveled to himself at the discrepancy in armament between the Republic and the eco-terrorists. Where are the eco-terrorists getting their money? he wondered.

Shim turned to Isme. "We have placed your name on the docket to speak to the Committee of the Interior. You are to speak next. Are you prepared?" he asked sternly.

Isme gathered himself, drew his thin frame up to its full height, and nodded mutely.

The two guards opened the doors to allow the three to enter the chamber.

The Committee of the Interior at this moment consisted of Senator Wreth and a number of aides. The Committee was holding so many hearings at the moment that it wasn't always possible for the hearings to be fully attended, either by members of the Committee itself or the audience in the chamber.

An aide spoke blandly, "And now Aleeas Isme shall address this Committee, accompanied by Jedi Master An-Yen Shim and Jedi Grandmaster Yeda. You may be seated."

After the three men had situated themselves behind the table facing the dais on which Senator Wreth sat, and Isme had been sworn in, Wreth finally spoke.

"Aleeas Isme, it pleases this committee that a man of your stature has finally deigned to speak on matters of the environment of Coruscant. I'm sure whatever testimony you will provide will be useful in the forming of future policy regarding Coruscant's natural resources." As he spoke, Wreth made a point of injecting as much boredom as possible into his voice as he looked down at the papers he was rearranging.

Isme immediately launched into his testimony, his voice full of vitriol, no doubt fueled by the morning's events. "The policy of the Senate regarding the natural resources of Coruscant is completely unacceptable. This government has used the activities of the eco-terrorists as an excuse to pass legislation dooming Coruscant to a planet totally bereft of any semblance of a healthy ecology.

"The Great Western Sea has been completely drained. The northern ice caps are being melted and that water is being piped all over the planet solely because the Senate has placed no restraints on the number of immigrants flooding this planet from all parts of the Galaxy. If this explosion of Coruscant's population is allowed to continue, the planet may become completely unlivable within our lifetime.

"And the crux of the matter is the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. The 'Lungs' are needed to cleanse the air, to provide new and useful medicines that are still being discovered by medical explorers, although that activity is being curtailed because of the policy of this government to inflame the activities of the eco-terrorists. We need to leave wild places and wild animals for the benefit of future generations. And I want to state for the record that my organization does not condone the use of violence for any reason. In fact, our peaceful protest was broken up and innocent students were arrested within the last hour." Isme took a breath, and Shim leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"My friend, you must calm yourself. You are allowing your anger to cloud your mind. Your testimony lacks organization and cohesion."

"Bah!" said Isme. "I will speak my mind so that they hear all I have to say."

Wreth finally spoke, his voice booming around the half-empty chamber. "Aleeas Isme, these are all good arguments, but they are arguments we have heard before. The Senate will soon decide on this matter, and frankly," he raised his eyebrows and again moved papers around, "I am not impressed by your arguments. Any one of your students could have come in here and presented…"

"This is an outrage!" shouted Isme. His eyes narrowed. "Senator Wreth. What is your interest in the matter? Why have you pushed and pushed for the destruction of the 'Lungs'. How do you profit?"

Oh no, Shim groaned inwardly as Yeda sadly examined the table-top in front of him.

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Aleeas Isme?" said Wreth with an eerie calmness. "I might ask you to what use the substantial funds of your organization," and here he seemed to pull out a particular document for examination, "are being put? It seems the so-called eco-terrorists, at this moment, are much better armed than our Republic's forces. How do you propose this is possible?"

Isme did not speak, taken aback by the implication.

"Aleeas Isme, I am placing you under arrest until this matter can be fully resolved. I am sure you will not be held long, but you must understand the precarious position our young Republic is in," Wreth said with false kindness in his voice.

Two Senate guards moved behind the table and lifted Isme to his feet.

"Masters Shim, Yeda, you must do something!" pleaded Isme.

Shim stood and spoke softly to him, emphasizing the words with a bob of the head. "We will do all we can, Aleeas, but for now just go along with the guards. We will be along in a moment."

Isme looked with disbelief to Grandmaster Yeda, who attempted to speak reassuringly. "Do all we can, we will. Go, you must."

As the incredulous leader of the last hope for the Forest was dragged to a holding cell deep underneath the Senate building, Wizzel, an aide of Wreth's who had the rodent-like face of a Corellian Vrelt, entered by a side door behind the dais and whispered in Wreth's ear. Wreth nodded.

"This session is adjourned," Wreth said hurridly. "This committee shall meet again at a time and date to be announced on the vid-net." He followed the aide out the side-door as the gallery started to murmur and file towards the exits. Masters Shim and Yeda looked at each other, grim faces full of understood portent.

Senator Wreth lumbered down a subterranean hallway with Wizzel hurridly in tow, arriving out of breath at the heavy door to his chambers. Wizzel fumbled for the massive key and stood to the side as Wreth swept into the equally massive office.

"Leave me," Wreth said dismissively as he thumbed the button on his etan-wood desk that activated the large vid-screen on the facing wall, which was flanked by priceless hanging curtains and climbing bronzium sculptures.

Wizzel backed simpering out of the chambers as Minas Talth's unpleasant features, more flushed than usual, appeared on the screen. Why do I surround myself with these sycophants? thought Wreth. Well, I suppose they serve their purposes.

"So, Talth, what worries us now?" demanded Wreth.

Talth spoke hurridly. "Capitol City is not safe for us, Senator Wreth," he began. "I have news from our friend Revenant that he plans, in his words, 'a most unpleasant vengeance' on the Jedi and the Republic."

"I see," said Wreth thoughtfully. "Any idea what form this 'vengeance' shall take?"

"This he did not tell me," said Talth. He spoke with dismay, "but why must we help these Bogans and eco-terrorists, Senator Wreth. This situation is getting out of control!"

"Calm yourself and think, Talth," spoke Wreth in the soothing tones that so grated on the nerves of his enemies in the Senate. "Their actions are necessary if we are to gain the most resources from the 'Lungs of Coruscant' for our profit and the benefit of the Republic. Radicals demand radical action from the Republic. Without their threat, we would never be able to push through the Senate the complete exploitation of those resources.

"Without their presence, the Jedi would never have taken our side. Once the Jedi have eliminated the Bogans and the eco-terrorists, nothing will stand in the way of our plans for the 'Lungs'," he finished with a flourish.

"Yes, yes, as usual, you are right," spoke Talth.

"Now," pronounced Wreth, "I believe we shall go off-planet for a while. Do you have a credible cover story?"

"I suppose," mused Talth. "I have family on Chandrila."

"Good. Prepare yourself with most haste and perhaps you may even travel the way a Senator travels," smiled Wreth. "I shall contact you soon."

Wreth switched off the vid screen and screeched for Wizzel. The vrelt-faced aide, who had been waiting outside the door in the hall, hurried into the room.

"Prepare my things, Wizzel," spoke the Senator. "We are leaving Coruscant for a while."

Thirty-One:

Jedi Masters An-Yen Shim and Yeda sat on either side of Aleeas Isme, on a hard bench in a cold holding cell deep beneath the Senate chambers. Isme was inconsolable.

"With all due respect, Masters, how could you stand by and let things get this far? How could the Jedi?" he asked with despair.

Shim spoke first. "This fight is far from over, Aleeas, and you must focus on that."

"Focus," Isme interjected dismally.

"But you must understand the pathway shown to us by the Force," continued Shim. "The Bogans must be our first priority, for until they are eliminated, they pose a threat to the entire galaxy. And do not think for a moment they truly care about the 'Lungs of Coruscant', Aleeas. They are simply using the eco-terrorists as allies in their plans to destroy all that is good. What they are planning could result in great destruction, including destruction of the Forest."

"What are they planning?" asked Isme, only half-interested now.

"Know exactly, we do not," spoke Yeda, for the first time. "But great horror ahead, the Jedi have seen."

"I don't care!" said Isme, hotly. "The 'Lungs' are going to be razed to the ground, and there's nothing we can do! I thought you Jedi were our friends!"

"We are, Aleeas, we are," said Master Shim, trying to calm the environmentalist. "When the Bogan are dealt with, we will turn our full attention to the preservation of the Forest. For we see its value as you do, and more. The Forest is strong in the Force, and that can be used for both the Light and the Dark Side. But right now, the Dark Side is ascendant, and they are drawing on the power of the Forest to perform great evil."

"Some influence, we have," added Yeda. "Speak in the Senate, we shall, to recommend the preservation of the Forest."

"Recommend," mumbled Isme, staring at his clasped hands. He looked up drearily. "I hear Alderaan's nice. Maybe you can have me shipped there."

"Do not give up hope, my friend," whispered Shim urgently. "We will speak on your behalf, and we shall return soon, to keep your counsel until you are released from this cell."

"Go, Jedi. And don't return. I thought you were my friends, but you have shown me otherwise." Isme stood and moved to the far corner of the cell, standing with his arms crossed and head down.

Shim and Yeda looked at each other and stood as well. "Guards," spoke Shim. "You may let us out now." He looked at the sad figure of Aleeas Isme, still standing in the corner.

"We shall return, my friend," said Shim.

Isme only nodded mutely.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the chambers of the Jedi Council, and at this time Jedi Master An-Yen Shim stood in the center of the circular room, facing the concentric group of twelve seats, only five of which were currently occupied. Seated were Grandmaster Yeda and Jedi Masters Yadla, Ne-Ship Yo, Arn-Fin Ald, and Blan Bil.

Of the other Jedi Masters scattered throughout the known galaxy, only Sar Agorn had been located in time for the meeting, and it was he who now spoke through an audio speaker. If he had been present, his glowing green body would be almost as non-corporeal as his voice.

"I do not like the position you have put us in, Master Shim. Your intentions are honorable, but I do not believe the Jedi should play the role of political entity."

Shim answered with great deference in his voice. "The Council has already spoken on that matter, Master Agorn. But we must make neutralizing the remaining Bogan who now strike from the Forest a priority if we are concerned with the continued balance of the Force in the Galaxy. And to fight the Bogan, we must also fight their allies, as distasteful as that is. And to do that, we need the assistance of the Republic. And the Republic needs our assistance in return."

"You speak eloquently, Master Shim," spoke Agorn. "Persuasive as you have been since a young consular." If Agorn could smile, perhaps his lips would be crooked in a wry grin.

"The promises the Jedi make must be upheld," he continued. "And through you we have promised to aid the Republic in its defense and its decisions. Our greatest seers have looked into the future and seen that our destinies are inextricably linked. You were merely an instrument of the Force."

Shim felt a leap of joy in his old chest, but quickly controlled the unconstructive emotion.

Yeda spoke now. "Listen to Master Shim, we should. Meditated on this matter for a great time, he has now. Although no longer Grand Master, very wise, Master Shim remains."

"Agreed," spoke Bil, the seer. "I have seen this destiny that Master Agorn speaks of, and we cannot deny it. The Republic can be a great instrument for order and good in the known Galaxy, if they accept our council."

"At this moment, they do," Shim said. "We must take advantage of that. If we do not help the Republic in this moment of danger, they shall turn their backs on us forever."

"Gather to Coruscant our swordsmen, we shall," spoke Yeda. "Take the role of Jedi Guardians, they must."

"Agreed," spoke Master Yo.

"Necessary, a vote is not, I believe?" inquired Yeda as he peered around the chamber.

"Agreed," spoke the present Jedi masters in one voice.

"Prepare a strategy to combat the Bogan, we shall. Look into the future, Master Bil shall." Yeda waited a moment, then spoke again. "Concluded, this session is."

"Wait, Master Yeda," Shim spoke hurridly.

"Yes?" said Yeda quizzically as he stopped clambering down from the seat that used to belong to the much taller Master Shim.

"Can we agree that we shall use every bit of our influence to save the 'Lungs of Coruscant' when this conflict is ended?" Shim asked.

"Agreed," spoke the Jedi Masters, once again in unison.

"I am satisfied, my friends," said Shim with a deep bow.

"Finished, we are?" asked Yeda, now leaning on his gimli stick.

"Finished," the Masters spoke, one by one.

Thirty-Two:

Two weeks later…

Lan and Yeda sat warmly bundled in the open back of a high-speed land transport the Jedi had conscripted for this journey on the equatorial super-highway connecting Capitol City to the hyper-modern Alpha City. At the moment, however, all that the two Jedi could see for kilometer after kilometer were gigantic factories that sped by on either side. Lan stared dully at the structures connected by huge pipelines and topped by massive smokestacks steaming filth into the atmosphere, as he pondered the recent days' events.

The Jedi Council had been contacted by a Jedi weapon-master of some renown known as Arnas Exor, who quietly plied his trade on Corellia after having left Tython behind at the end of the Force Wars. There had been great confusion at the time of this contact, for when asked whether he was prepared, as previously promised, to arm the Jedi with the alien technology known as the lightsaber, he indicated he had already done so. Grandmaster Yeda took it upon himself to travel to Corellia to meet with Exor and sort out the mess, and he was taking Lan with him. It now seemed most likely that Exor had been duped by the Bogan, which would explain how some of them were already armed with the deadly weapon.

The plan was to travel on one of the ships reserved by the Republic for Jedi use, and meet with the Jedi Watchman of the Corellian sector, Andrel Bin-Tath, in a remote location in that system, out of the way of any enemy observation. Andrel Bin-Tath would then be able to lead them to Exor without detection, using his intimate knowledge of the back-ways of the Corellian wilderness.

Yeda meditated quietly in the back of the speeding transport, leaving Lan to his sullen reverie, thinking of how he and Shara had parted for the first time as husband and wife, the night before.

Shara and Lan sat in a café on the 71st floor of a glass tower known as the Genesis building in the heart of Capitol City. The gleaming structure housed many nightclubs and expensive suites favored by the wealthy and powerful, but no one questioned the presence of the two young Jedi in their midst. Now they sat in two seats facing a picture window, staring out at the orange lights of the city.

"I know you have to go," Shara said simply, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I know, Shara, but we knew our marriage and our bond would be tested like this. It's the way of our order. There will always be danger."

He looked sideways at Shara, her long fingers folded in the lap of her brown robes, her eyes wet with tears that reflected the city lights.

"Shara, don't cry, please. What's the worst that can happen, remember?"

"You will die."

"And then?"

"You will become one with the Force," she exclaimed hopelessly.

"Right, right. Just like we've always said. Attachment is the way to the Dark Side. If this is going to work, we have to always be aware that there truly is no loss for us."

"Please don't lecture me, Lan. Allow me my sadness."

"You're grieving before I'm even dead, Shara," Lan said quietly. "You're grieving before I'm dead."

"Maybe that's how I prepare myself. I love you, Lan, I love you with all of my heart. And my heart will always break a little when you leave. Especially now."

She turned to face him, her glistening eyes moving side to side as they looked closely at Lan's own desperate eyes.

"I'll be back for you, Shara. Always, I promise. Come here," he said soothingly, and they embraced, confident that the tall backs of their seats would shield them from the view of the other patrons.

"Watch out, crazy!" shouted the transport's spindly Killian driver as an X-series land-car cut them off at an incredible rate of speed, jerking Lan back to the present.

Lan rolled his eyes in un-Jedi-like annoyance. He always had a distaste for the Kavri-industries X-series vehicles. He understood that if one was wealthy enough to buy a Y-series or even Z-series, it made sense. Those luxurious vehicles were one of the prizes of attaining financial success on Coruscant, and he had no problem with that. What he did have a problem with were the pretentious social-climbers who mortgaged their future to speed in the flashy, somewhat affordable X-series. Much better to keep your head down, in a manner of speaking, and buy something more practical. Well, to each their own, he thought, as he sunk down into his robes.

Grandmaster Yeda looked slyly sideways at his apprentice and chuckled.

"Ah, almost there, we are," the Jedi Grandmaster noted as the soaring spires of Alpha-City, covered by the web of its magnetic sky-ways, appeared on the horizon of the super-highway.

"Finally," grumbled Lan, moving his sore backside in the hard Akash-leather seat.

The transport continued for another few kilometers, navigating between some of the initial skyscrapers at the edge of Alpha City, until they reached a huge parking lot for sky-cars, a lattice-work of magnetic sky-ways branching out from the edges of the lot.

"We are here," announced the Killian. "Payment please," he barked rudely.

Grandmaster Yeda looked to Lan, who reached within his robes and dropped a sack of credits in the alien driver's thin hand. The two Jedi climbed out and made their way across the parking lot to find the sky-car they had prepaid for over the vid-net.

The lot contained rows of sky-cars, each suspended over a magnetic rail that led out of the lot and up into the air around the most modern of Coruscant's structures. Only the construction some planned South of Capitol City, if the 'Lungs of Coruscant' were to be cleared, would be more advanced in terms of building materials, size and architecture.

Lan peered up at the nearest super-skyscrapers, his foul mood dissipating at the prospect of careening around the buildings hovering on a thin rail. He relished the opportunity to drive one of the gleaming new vehicles he saw around him.

"Ready, are we?" inquired Yeda.

"I'm ready, Master. May the Force be with us," said Lan, grinning.

Thirty-Three:

Lan and Yeda proceeded across the parking lot, Lan scanning the parked skycars, Yeda peering inquisitively from side to side as he used his gimli stick to hop over the many deep grooves in the pavement housing rails leading from each parking spot to the edge of the lot and upwards.

Suddenly, without warning, a skycar accelerated out of its spot and bore directly down on the two Jedi.

"Stop!" Lan shouted without thinking, his hand extended. The vehicle shuddered to a stop, held in place by Lan's command of the Force.

"Good grief, watch where you're going, will you?" he exclaimed, walking around to the side of the skycar. Yeda followed, shaking his head at Lan's hot-headed outburst.

The hydraulic door on the driver's side of the skycar opened and a tiny old woman extracted herself with aching slowness from the vehicle. Lan suddenly felt very sheepish.

"I'm so sorry, lad. I should have been more careful. It's my eyes, you see. My son tells me not to drive any more, says I'm too old for the skyways, but I refuse to give up my license. Those skyways are so exciting. We had nothing like them when I was young," she gushed.

Lan reached out in great deference and helped her out of the skycar. "I apologize, too, ma'am. I hope I didn't jar you when I stopped the car."

"Ah yes, a Jedi, I see. And this handsome old gentleman, is this your Master?" she smiled.

If Yeda could have blushed, he would have, but he simply bowed his head.

"Well, if you're okay, we need to get going," said Lan.

"Important Jedi business, I suppose? Saving the Galaxy and all that?"

"One person at a time, ma'am, one person at a time," Lan said, chuckling.

"Go, we shall, if alright, you are, madam," Yeda asked.

"Yes, go, go, Jedi, and good luck, on all your travels. This old lady will be quite alright. I'll try not to run over any more Jedi today."

Lan laughed, and he and Yeda bowed, gathered their robes, and walked to their waiting skycar.

When the two Jedi were climbing into their vehicle, the old woman peered at them over the hood of her skycar, then reached through her open door and pulled a communicator from the dashboard.

"Looks like they're on rail L253. They'll be in position in estimated 10 minutes. Repeat 10 minutes."

Nodding her head in grim satisfaction, she stepped nimbly back into her car and pulled off in the opposite direction from where the Jedi had gone.

"Do you sense there was something strange about that whole encounter with that old woman, Master Yeda?" asked Lan over the whistle of the wind through the doors of their skycar as they careened around mammoth glass towers on a thin spiraling rail.

"Trust her, I did not. Know why, I also did not," answered Yeda thoughtfully.

"The Force is telling me something's not right, and it's got something to do with her. But I don't suppose we can go back and arrest her just based on that, do you? Besides," Lan added, "she'd be long gone by now."

Then both Jedi looked at each other in great alarm. "Feel that, did you?" asked Yeda.

"Yes, hold on!" Lan shouted as he prepared to turn on an upcoming branch in the rails. Suddenly another skycar pulled in front of them at a similar high rate of speed from an adjoining rail, and immediately a charge exploded underneath it. It flipped upwards in the air, flying backwards towards them.

Yeda grabbed Lan's head and pushed him down as he reached up with his other hand, shoring up the glass roof of their skycar with the Force. The other skycar landed directly on top of them with a mighty crash and the sound of shattering glass and shearing metal. Lan looked up briefly and saw, through the splintered glass canopies of the two vehicles, an unconscious, bleeding human male strapped into the other skycar. The two vehicles were now joined together by the impact and teetered on the edge of their rail, still speeding wildly forwards. From what Lan could make out, the man had the dark, rough-hewn features of a native, but his hair was cropped short and matted with blood. Lan quickly turned his attention back to attempting to steer or slow the ruined skycars.

Then the vehicles tilted and fell, flipping and falling hundreds of stories towards the concrete valley below.

"Master!" Lan shouted wildly.

Yeda closed his eyes in concentration, ignoring Lan's outburst, and reached out with his hands above, which was now below, and below, which was now above. Slowly, ever so slowly, the descent of the twisted wreckage which had been two skycars decelerated until they hung a meter above the ground, far below the rail they had been riding.

Yeda opened his eyes, shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and they fell the last meter to the ground with a jarring impact. Lan kicked at the driver's side door until it cracked open, then thrust out his palm, the door flying off with the impact of his Force-thrust.

The two Jedi clambered out of what had been their vehicle, and Yeda grabbed Lan by the hem of his robe and pulled him away towards a side street, away from the curious crowd that was gathering around the wreckage.

"What about the other driver?" Lan protested.

"Dead, he is," said Yeda, simply. "Find a sky-taxi, we must. Time until our flight leaves, we have very little."

They ran a few blocks in the canyons among the super-skyscrapers, passing too many startled civilians, until they found a taxi depot with sky-rails swooping up from its edges.

Within moments they had secured a ride in a sky taxi and were back on their way to the airport, where they would begin the next leg of their journey, up to the orbiting skyport where their ship awaited.

Thirty-Four:

The ride in the sky taxi was blessedly uneventful, and Lan gratefully slapped the credits for the fare in the hand of the loquacious, swarthy human cab driver, adding a few credits for his trouble. The sky taxi had climbed a steep rail that had flattened out in front of the massive terminal at the edge of the four-kilometer long airstrip that was the Alpha City Skyport, perched one hundred stories in the sky, upon towers that contained all the shops, apartments, hotel suites, clubs, restaurants, bars and offices that serviced the Skyport. Within those towers, which were housed in perpetual shadow under the airfield, were heavy elevators that carried huge amounts of cargo, living and otherwise, to the surface of Coruscant, and below.

Coruscant was one of the few planets in the Republic that did not boast a spaceport on the planet's surface, for there was simply no space for such a massive installation to be built on the crowded city-planet, at least for the time being. Then there was the issue of the atomic piles that powered hyperspace-worthy spaceships, which had been judged too dangerous for landing planet-side, especially after the unfortunate melt-down that had occurred on the ill-fated Alias some five years ago on the far side of Coruscant. A large crater, a kilometer wide, directly in the middle of the industrial district there, still marked where the accident had occurred.

Lan looked around in wonder at the hustle and bustle of people, human and alien, in the high-vaulted terminal. Through gigantic picture windows he could see the airfield, shining in the bright afternoon sun, and the constant flow of air-traffic. There were small shuttles flying dignitaries from other parts of the globe, huge transports bringing in cargo that had arrived at Coruscant from other parts of the galaxy via the orbiting spaceports, and civilian transports bringing wide-eyed new immigrants and visitors to the Jewel of the Republic. Large lorries unloaded cargo and rolled to various loading docks, where the cargo could be transitioned to large elevators down one of the many towers that supported the Skyport. From there the cargo would be transported to its destination somewhere on Coruscant.

The terminal itself was a cacophony of noise. There were constant announcements of flights boarding to such destinations as Corellia, Alderaan, Chandrila, and beyond. There were endless lines of passengers waiting to clear security checkpoints, both for arriving at and leaving the planet. There were irate civilians arguing about their papers, or lack thereof, with frustrated security personnel; or arguing about their passage, or lack thereof, with frustrated airline personnel.

Then, through the crowd, a tall humanoid in the brown robes of a Jedi approached Lan and Yeda. He was well over 2 meters tall, hairless, with a long, drawn, gray face, vertical slits for a nose, and drooping eyes that seemed to look disdainfully down at Lan. When he unfolded his long, spidery hands from the sleeves of his robes, Lan saw that each gray hand had six fingers and two opposable thumbs.

"Ah, Master Yeda, there you are. I trust you had a safe journey from the Temple?" asked the alien Jedi in a high, wheezing voice.

"Safe, I cannot say, Jedius," laughed Yeda, and the two Jedi clasped arms, Yeda having to reach above his head to do so.

"Ah, and this is the attached one?" sniffed Jedius, turning to face Lan.

Lan had heard of this particular Jedi. He was of a race known as the Dorians, who did not believe in forming friendships or relationships of any kind, finding them false and limiting. They preferred the constant flow of new interactions in their lives, and this characteristic made Jedius particularly suited to the life of a Jedi, all of whom avoided attachments, though not usually to the extent of a Dorian. Lan had heard that Jedius had chafed under life in the Jedi Temple as a padawan, where he was forced to interact with the same people on a daily basis, and was especially grateful when his elevation to the rank of Jedi Knight allowed him to take a position as security chief at the busy Alpha City Skyport.

"Nice to meet you, Jedius," Lan said helpfully, extending his hand.

"Indeed," remarked Jedius, who then turned back to Yeda. Lan grimaced and clenched his fists in irritation, but said nothing. Jedius wouldn't be the only Jedi who disagreed with his decision to marry Shara, but this particular Jedi would always have more of a problem with it than usual, Lan realized.

"Your skyplane is ready for you, Master Yeda," said Jedius. "You are cleared to leave in 10 minutes, and the spaceship Excelsius awaits you in orbit, provisioned for your journey to the Corellian sector. It is indeed fortunate that you have arrived in time. I was beginning to worry. I could only clear the airstrip for your departure for so long…"

"Grateful, we are, Jedius," said Yeda. "And what are our prospects for a safe journey?"

Lan knew of this Jedi's singular ability as well. Jedius could determine the eventual destiny of any inanimate object, projected as far as several weeks into the future. In this way, he could determine if a particular bag, for example, would explode in a week's time, therefore indicating it contained a bomb. If his reading of a vessel or a building showed an explosion or gaseous leak in its future, he could pinpoint the location of the offending device. This ability, along with his usual Jedi abilities allowing him to read the intentions of people and predict danger, made him uniquely qualified for his role as the Skyport's security chief.

"I have read your vessel, Master Yeda," Jedius said smoothly. "In fact, I have even flown up to the Excelcius to read it as well, and I see no danger for either vessel."

"Excellent. Distinguished yourself, you have, as always, Jedius," said Yeda.

Jedius bowed, then motioned with an outstretched arm towards the subterminal that would lead to a vehicle that would transport them over the airfield to their waiting skyplane.

"You shall have a safe flight, Master Yeda, Jedi Lan Hewan," said Jedius in his most assured tone.

Lan didn't doubt him.

Thirty-Five:

Lan peered out of the viewport of their skyplane as it rose from the Skyport. It climbed first into a bank of clouds, and they flew upwards through a strange horizontal valley that separated two layers of cloudcover.

Lan looked over at his master, who was smiling happily as he peered out of his own viewport. It was indeed easier to enjoy a ride on a skyplane when Jedius had assured you of a safe flight, thought Lan. Did every passenger have those assurances in these deadly times, when eco-terrorists were striking further and further from the 'Lungs of Coruscant' where they made their home?

The skyplane cleared the cloudbank as it climbed higher, and now Lan could see three of Coruscant's moons hanging in the sky.

They flew by one of the enormous atmospheric scrubbers, part of the Coruscant Atmospheric Reclamation Project, that were ostensibly rendering the 'Lungs of Coruscant' unnecessary. Almost a kilometer long, it consisted of gigantic intakes which sucked in carbon dioxide, which then passed over catalytic compounds inside the housing of the scrubber. The fresh oxygen, mixed with trace elements designed to approximate natural air, was then pumped out of huge vents at the bottom of the scrubber; this air exhaust kept the ultra-light scrubber buoyant in the upper atmosphere.

As the skyplane passed by the scrubber, Lan looked down and saw the clouds had parted, showing the planet's surface crawling by. There were old, brown ziggurats and pyramids interspersed with newer skyscrapers and factories, all tiny now to his view, and as he looked at these examples of man's efforts, Lan was struck with a thought. Was he looking at the apex of civilization, or merely its beginnings? He felt a strange anxiety grip him as he thought of the future of the Jedi in a dangerous, vast galaxy. Will it be our destiny to push back foul users of the Dark Side of the Force in our galaxy for millennia to come? Will there ever truly be peace?

Suddenly Lan felt Master Yeda at his side, his hand grasping Lan's arm.

"Focus on the present, you must," Yeda counseled him. "When we care for the present, and learn from the past, cared for, the future is."

Lan turned to his Master in wonder. How did Master Yeda always know when something was bothering him? "I know, Master Yeda. I know."

Lan didn't know what else to say, so he looked out of the viewport again. He could now see beyond the terminus of darkness bisecting the planet's night side from its day side, and in that darkness flowed a spider-web of rivers of light, like molten lava flowing down a volcano's side. Look how beautiful Coruscant is, though Lan. I'll do everything I can to protect this planet, this Galaxy, and its people. Then he thought of Shara, somewhere down there, and was gripped again with a brief flash of anxiety. But this time he looked at Yeda, and smiled a brave smile.

The skyplane lifted above the atmosphere and he could hear its jet boosters roar into life as it launched into orbit, towards the orbiting space platform where their ship was docked. He was cheered by the prospect of seeing the platform, and all the docked ships. He always found the industry of mankind to build such amazing structures fascinating. Perhaps he had inherited that sense of wonder from his father, who had been an engineer - a builder of bridges - on Corellia.

"We'll be reaching the Excelsius in twenty minutes," the pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Spaceport Beta-29 straight ahead, if you want to look out of your port window."

Lan looked out eagerly, and visible against the glittering canopy of stars, he saw the circular framework of the spaceport, long arms extending from a central hub to which ships of various sizes attached themselves. He gasped in awe at the sight of a massive commercial vessel, shining with the lights of a thousand viewports and bristling with an array of sensors, as they circumvented the spaceport.

"Excelsius straight ahead, Masters," came the voice of the pilot.

"Where?" asked Lan, excitedly. All of his worries were falling away at his excitement over the prospect of adventure. Yeda looked at him with some amusement, mixed with concern.

"There," the Jedi Master pronounced with a pointing of a thick green finger.

"That's it?" Lan asked in disappointment at the sight of a tiny, chunky brown vessel, attached by its nose to an arm of the spaceport. It tapered from its large, atomic pile-driven hyperspace drive to the thin nose wherein the two Jedi would pilot the vessel.

"All we need, it is," Yeda said in a tone intended to gently reprimand Lan.

"Well, as long as it gets us to the Corellian system in one piece," Lan offered philosophically. "What's the name of the Jedi watchman we're meeting?"

"Andrel Bin-Tath, his name is," offered Yeda.

"Right, well, let's hope he's waiting for us like he's supposed to. Corellia can be a hairy system," mused Lan, looking out at the Excelsius as it grew in his viewport.

Thirty-Six:

Some years prior…

Revenant walked into what could only be described as a throne room, deep within the complex dug into the far side of the unstable moon of Coruscant known as Settius. This side of the moon was always facing away from Coruscant's prying eyes, as Settius was locked in a synchronous orbit with the planet.

Seated on a massive throne of rough-hewn stone, surrounded by animal skins hung on cold stone walls, sat an equally massive, burly, bearded man known as General Xendor, previous of the Armies of the Ashla mustered during the Force Wars on the planet Tython. His left hand rested on the pommel of a broadsword, the tip dug into the ground in front of the throne. His shrewd eyes belied an intelligence sharp as his sword.

General Xendor laughed. "You were not as difficult to find as you must have hoped, Bal'eth."

"That name is dead to me, General," Revenant hissed. "As you are dead to the Jedi." He bowed his head, wrapped in black bandages that only revealed the glowing embers that were his eyes. "I do give you credit for a most effective network of spies, General."

"When I seek one who associates with those who do not use the Force, it becomes easier. I knew you were not dead, Bal'eth. When you burst into a tower of flames at the Battle of the Valley of Bale, I could sense as none other that it was not the result of a Jedi attack, but an unveiling of your new, magnificent power."

"Well spoken, General Xendor. Perhaps your budding link to the Boga allowed you to see past the illusion."

"Ah, so it was an illusion. Where did you discover this power to inflame and distract the mind of the viewer?"

"In ancient writings of the Boga, which I consulted as my people were being wiped out by the Jedi. The price I paid is what you see now." Revenant motioned to his form, bandaged head to toe in black. "But I am seeking to control this power so I may once again take the appearance of man."

"You reveal much to me, Revenant. You must have a reason."

"I do come to you with a proposal, one which I have divined was your wish when you sought me out, as well. Tell me, why did you desert the Army of the Ashla, there in the Battle of Bale Valley where I uncloaked my power?"

"Silence, sorcerer!" bellowed Xendor. "I did not desert that army like some base coward. I had sought my moment to leave a people who were flawed at the core. See how confused the Jedi are, unsure whether to join the rabble known as the Interstellar Confederacy, or pursue their own path. I seek power which they never gave me, power that would allow me to unite the galaxy under one benevolent ruler. I would bring peace where there is only confusion and despair."

Revenant had listened patiently. "Hate has many forms, many reasons. But it is a natural emotion, and one that should be embraced, not suppressed. We hate the Jedi for our own different reasons, but our purposes cross at this juncture."

"Yes, you discern my hatred. From the day I was found on the doorstep of the Jedi on Tython, I was forged into a deadly weapon. Taught to fight, taught strategy, entrusted with my duties as procurement officer of the Great Army of the Ashla. But true power was always denied me. 'Too capricious you are, Xendor. Too emotional.' They kept their thumb on me until it was unbearable.

"When I made my escape, I used my contacts in requisitions to secure transport to this moon, and from those initial contacts quickly built a network of weapon suppliers and spies. And I am now collecting a group of mercenaries which I provide to those who seek to bring peace to the Galaxy.

"But it is the Jedi I seek to bring under my sway. Already I have made contact with some Jedi disillusioned with the myopic view of their order, and I shall bring those Jedi into my fold as well. But I have time, MUCH time." He chortled.

"Indeed you do Xendor. You have not aged a day since I saw you on the battlefields of Tython. There were always legends of a race of man in the North of Tython, men who lived for centuries, not decades. Perhaps you are of that stock."

"Perhaps. But let us now discuss what we can do for each other, Revenant."

"You seek power. You seek training."

"Yes, yes. And I believe you can provide it to me. I shall be a must devoted student, as long as you do not attempt to undermine me in any way."

"And in return?"

"I shall provide you and the terrorists you are gathering to you with all the latest weaponry: jumpers, rockets, Repeating Projectile Weapons, laser-tubes with power backpacks, slug throwers, sniper rifles – in short, I shall arm you to the teeth, with more weaponry and training than the Interstellar Confederacy itself possesses. What you do with that weaponry, I care little, for I have my own path."

"I see that, General Xendor. For you, the path ahead is long. It may be centuries before you are prepared to engage the Jedi. But that means we have much time to begin your training. And my own spy, planted in the Jedi Order itself, tells me of a weapon the Jedi are developing that may change the way a user of the Force does battle."

"The lightsaber of Arnas Exor."

"So you know. Yes, General. I will see we have use of the weapon before the Jedi themselves."

"See to it, Revenant. When shall we begin my training?"

"I will come again within one lunar orbit. See to it that you are prepared."

General Xendor bowed his massive head, and Revenant whipped around and glided from the throne room, to his waiting shuttle.

Thirty-Seven:

The Excelsius dropped out of hyperspace in a remote section of the Corellian system, near the planet Selonia. Immediately a warning light flashed on Lan's control board, and he peered at the readings his external sensors were receiving.

"Master, I'm getting some unusually high radiation levels in this area," he said.

"Solar radiation?" queried Yeda.

"More than can be accounted for normally." He switched to an encrypted communications frequency used by the Jedi. "Corellian Guardian, come in, this is the Excelsius. Come in Corellian Guardian."

The two Jedi waited as the crackling hiss of background radiation answered their call.

"Master?" Lan looked over at Yeda, who had closed his eyes and raised his chin, as if sniffing the air.

"Joined the Force, Jedi Watchman Andrel Bin-Tath has. Knew that we were coming, someone did."

"What are we going to do, Master? Tath was going to be our guide!"

"Calm yourself, you must, young Jedi. The location of Arnas Exor, we still have." Yeda thought for a moment. "A hyperspace jump to Corellia, you must plot."

"But it will be obvious to anyone looking that we're coming, if we drop out of hyperspace right over the planet!"

"No longer a premium, stealth is. Hasty, we must now be."

"Yes, Master."

Lan piloted the ship around Selonia, downloaded a solution for the short hyperspace jump through the Corellian system, and punched a button on his control board. For a brief moment, all of the stellar objects in their viewport stretched into colored bands of light, and then the green and blue orb that was Corellia loomed in front of them.

Lan piloted the Excelsius down into the atmosphere, and within moments one of Corellia's ultra-modern fighter jets had sidled up besides the Jedi's vessel. "You have entered Corellian airspace. Identify yourselves immediately," came the all-business voice of a seasoned fighter pilot over their communicator.

"Corellian fighter, I'm transmitting Jedi authentication codes to you now. Prepare for transmission," Lan calmly replied. His hands flew over his console, and then with a flourish sent the transmission. Both Jedi waited unflappably for confirmation.

"That's a lot of Jedi in one day," came the cryptic reply. "What happened to Master Tath?"

"That's what we are trying to figure out ourselves, pilot," answered Lan. "Are we cleared to land?"

"Roger that. I'll escort you there. What's your destination, Jedi?"

"A village known as Hilhal, in the Western forest," said Lan.

"Popular vacation spot for Jedi," said the pilot. Lan gave Yeda a worried glance, but the Jedi Grandmaster seemed unsurprised. Lan shut off the comm channel.

"One step ahead of us, our adversaries are," ruminated Yeda. "Reach Arnas Exor quickly, we must."

"Agreed, Master."

The comm unit rasped to life again. "Ok, Jedi vessel, there's an airfield two clicks north of here. You are cleared to land. Repeat, cleared to land." The fighter peeled off with an impressive roar of afterburners, and vanished in the blue Corellian sky.

The Excelsius safely landed, the two Jedi lowered their vessel's boarding ramp, pulling their brown robes close around them as they were buffeted by a cold blast of winter air.

"Under no circumstances, reach for your weapon," Yeda said quietly.

It wasn't until they had reached the bottom of the ramp that Lan realized something was wrong, but he froze instead of instinctively pulling the scimitar from his back sheath. The vessel was surrounded by Corellian para-military soldiers, all holding slug throwers and RPWs level at the two Jedi.

One man, who appeared to be an officer, or at least a sergeant, stepped forward and waved them forward with a stiff, beckoning gesture. "This way, Jedi," he ordered curtly.

They followed him, Lan eyeing the weaponry leveled at them while Yeda moved ahead serenely, into a small building at the edge of the airfield.

"This way," said the officer gruffly, and motioned them through an open door into what appeared to be an office. Once inside, a stocky, square-faced man with a shaved head and the uniform of a law-enforcement officer beckoned them to sit. A sallow-faced aide stood at his shoulder.

"Sheriff Zilo," the man in charge said as way of introduction, and sat. "We were told by the first batch of Jedi that came through here today that they'd be followed by some imposters. That would be you, now wouldn't it?" he asked gruffly.

"Imposters, we are not. Lied to, you have been, officer," said Yeda.

"We'll straighten this out soon enough. They had Jedi authentication codes, but your fighter escort indicated ahead to us that yours were current as well. So now I'm confused. What's going on here?" He seemed to be biding for time, as the aide disappeared into a back office.

"We're on the track of some Bogans…dark users of the Force," Lan added hurridly at the lawman's raised eyebrow.

"A traitor, we have in our midst," added Yeda. "Our authentication codes, they have stolen."

The aide returned with a sheaf of papers that he placed before the sheriff.

"Well now, I see that you are Grandmaster Yeda and Jedi Lan Hewan," he said with mock expansiveness. "I can see with my own eyes that you match these," and here he held up the papers that contained the facial profiles of the two Jedi, "so I'm inclined to believe you. We've been in touch with Coruscant all day after those first two came through, even though we've had Jedi here before. You see, I just had a bad feeling about them, and the Jedi Temple at Coruscant told me you were coming."

Yeda nodded happily. "Your help, we do not require. A Jedi matter, this is."

A thought struck Lan. "You said you've had Jedi here before. Any recently?"

Zilo thought for a moment. "There was a Jedi vessel a few months back, but they had authentication codes, and we had no reason to be suspicious, so we let them fly on without as little as a how-do-you-do."

Lan looked with alarm at Yeda. "I can check with Mikael or Eric, but there haven't been any Jedi missions to the Corellian system in at least a year, if I'm not mistaken."

Yeda shook his head slowly. "No missions. Bogans, those were. How they have our codes, we must investigate on Coruscant."

The Sheriff looked from one Jedi to the other, making up his mind.

"All right, then. We're giving you airspace clearance to the Western Forest region. It's about a half-hour flight by thrusters, no real landing fields, plenty of little villages. You know where you're going?"

"Yes, Sheriff," answered Yeda simply.

"Alright, then. You're free to go." Zilo looked quizzically at the back of the Jedi as they left his office. "And good luck, right?"

Lan turned. "Luck has nothing to do with it, Sheriff."

"Right, right then."

Lan and Yeda stepped out into the cold air, walked past the cautious para-military men, climbed the lowered ramp of their vessel and prepared for launch.

Thirty-Eight:

The Excelsius cast a chunky shadow over the rich Corellian forest-land as the vessel followed the course laid in by Lan, towards coordinates just to the North of Hilhal, skimming the tree-tops. Exor had described an area with large cleared fields in his communications with the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Lan allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of Shara. How she would tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she studied some obscure tome, not noticing Lan watching her. How her head would tilt to the side and the corners of her exotic eyes would crinkle when she laughed at one of his awkward jokes.

Suddenly a strangely familiar sight jolted him out of his reverie. "Master Yeda, look there!" he cried.

A gorgeous, metallic suspension bridge soared across a river that snaked through the forest.

"My father built that bridge. He was the lead engineer. I remember from when I was a boy, watching that bridge go up," Lan explained breathlessly.

"One with the Force, he would seem," said Yeda, admiring the effortless grace of the bridge, how it loomed like an extension of its natural surroundings.

"Ha! Not likely," Lan snorted. "Kala, the goddess of industry, was my parents' patron goddess. My father never understood my connection to the Force. I guess it was a good thing the Jedi adopted me when you did."

Yeda nodded and smiled, and turned his attention back to the instrument panel. They reached the land surrounding Hilhal within a few minutes.

"For landing, prepare us," ordered Yeda.

Lan gently lowered the Excelsius in a large cleared field a kilometer from the village. Like most Corellians, even one who had lived on Coruscant most of his life, he was a natural pilot, and the vessel performed surprisingly well. The Jedi disembarked the ship and surveyed their surroundings. Lan unfolded a large map that had been communicated to the Jedi by Exor.

"Judging by this map, there's a large roadway that leads West to Exor's hamlet. Hilhal itself is about a kilometer South. This is mostly open farmland, so any idiot is going to see where we are going."

"Trust in the Force, we must. Very aware, we must be. Sense the presence of a dark user of the Force, I already do."

"Any idea of exactly where they are?" asked Lan hopefully.

Yeda shook his head in discouragement, a rare emotion for the Jedi Grandmaster. "Strong in the Force, one of the Bogans is. Concealed their location in the Force, he has." Yeda pondered for a moment whether they were dealing with the specter he had fought in the Jedi Temple's nursery.

He then pointed his gimli stick towards the roadway, and the two Jedi set off to meet with Exor, hoping he was still alive.

Thirty-Nine:

Lan and Yeda arrived at Exor's hovel in a tiny, sleepy hamlet just before dark, and Yeda rapped briskly on the round wooden door with his gimli stick, then stood back expectantly. The heat from Arnas Exor's atomic furnace could be felt even through the door, and inside the sounds of industry, of hammer on anvil, continued until Lan hammered on the door with his fist. "Arnas Exor, we are Grandmaster Yeda and Lan Hewan," Lan shouted, head down to hear if the weapon-master would stop his hammering and come to the door.

Eventually he did, and the two Jedi were confronted with an alarming sight when the door opened. The once-handsome Exor looked like the shell of the man he once was on Tython. His dark, wounded eyes were sunken with dark bags underneath; his dark face was covered with an uneven beard; his long hair was pulled back in a greasy pony-tail, and his body was thin – ravaged by some malady. Whether psychological or physical, Lan and Yeda could not tell.

"Well, come inside. This is indeed a surprise," Exor said sarcastically, and waved them into his hovel with exaggerated courtesy.

He closed the door behind them, and rested his hands on a work-table.

"Let me get straight to the point," he began with venom. "I don't know what in the Corellian hells is going on here, because I just received a call from Coruscant saying two Jedi were coming to procure the lightsaber. That's fine, but you see, a few months back I had three Jedi here claiming the same thing. They were masked and cloaked in Jedi brown. One had eyes that burned like a Selonian demon's. I don't know who you're letting into the Temple these days," he grumbled as Yeda raised his eyebrows in alarm. The specter in the nursery. He rested his hands heavily on his gimli stick and allowed the weapon master to continue to vent.

"They had Jedi confirmation codes. I had received an encrypted message from the Temple's communications center a day prior notifying me of their arrival. They had a video message from you, Grandmaster Yeda, ordering me to treat them with the greatest courtesy," he spat.

Yeda held up a three-fingered hand to stop the weapon-master for a moment as he turned to Lan. "In the communications center, who has been posted recently?"

"There was Ran, who's dead, and Eric, who was injured fighting off the Bogan who liberated Uni-Dent. That leaves Mikael. You don't think Mikael has been helping the Bogans?" exclaimed Lan incredulously.

"Suspect him, we must, until we can investigate further." Yeda pointed at Exor's hyper-space transponder in a manner of asking to use it.

"Go ahead, Grandmaster," Exor sighed and crossed his arms over his once-burly chest, now sunken.

Yeda put in a quick message to the Jedi Council, ordering them to detain Mikael until further notice.

"But see their faces, could you not?" Yeda then inquired.

"No, they wore the brown robes of the Jedi, but their faces and hands were covered. They said there was a need for complete secrecy, even between myself, the Jedi weapon master, and these Jedi, for reasons of bodily safety for those Jedi who possessed the new lightsabers."

"Makes sense," mumbled Lan.

"How many sabers did you make?" asked Yeda.

"Three: one for each. Took me days, but they were patient. They compensated me, even though I insisted I did it for the Order, and then they left. That's the last I heard from the Order, except for the occasional communiqué from Watchman Bin-Tath."

"Who is now dead," said Lan.

"What? By the Force," groaned Exor, fingers massaging his temples.

"Provide us with lightsabers, you can?" asked Yeda helpfully.

"Of course, Grandmaster. Let me show you what I have." He unrolled large paper plans on his work-table. "The technology is known as the frozen-blaster blade. We found it on a little-explored planet, in the Core, that we believe was once part of what was known as the ancient Rakatan Infinite Empire, since fallen. The blasters, we decided to keep a secret. They are too dangerous, and more importantly, too easy to replicate and manufacture, if you have the right plans and materials. If the plans for the blaster ever got out, every two-bit hood in the galaxy would own two within a year.

"But the lightsaber, we believed could be used as a way of focusing a Jedi's connection with the Force, while making him invincible in combat, able to block projectile weapons and cut through nearly everything. Cortosis is a notable exception, we discovered.

"The crystal, preferably Adegan - when the molecules are aligned correctly through Force meditation as the crystal is fired in a forge of incredible heat, can freeze a bolt much like the blaster's, producing a blade of a little over a meter in length. It takes a lot of power – it needs to be connected to a holster- or back-energy pack, and the Force user needs to concentrate on the integrity of the crystal as he wields the lightsaber, or the blade will lose its integrity and dissipate.

"All that said, you don't want to take on someone using one of these, even with a Force-hardened blade."

Curious, absorbing the schematics with his steel-trap mind, Yeda pointed to various elements on the schematics. "And these?" he inquired.

"Okay, we have a high-energy reflective cup, superconductor, control circuitry boards, all relatively easy to procure. However, here," and Exor unrolled another schematic, "are the diagrams for the blaster bolt releaser, a bit harder, but not impossible, to assemble."

He turned back to the main schematic of the assembled lightsaber. "Once the blaster bolt releaser is screwed in the base, you insert the forged crystal here, tune the photo-harmonics, and hope the thing doesn't vaporize you when you thumb it on." No one laughed.

Exor spoke up after a minute's contemplation. "Master Yeda, I've been feeling a disturbance in the Force nearby. I want you to take the plans and what Adegan crystals I have, save one. I have almost completed another lightsaber. I'll have it after dinner, and then it's just a matter of the user forging the crystal into useable lattices. We can use my atomic forge for that, but really, any furnace of sufficient heat will do. I'll preheat the crystal. Be prepared to maintain a strong connection to the Force as you do so. But," he smiled, "I'm sure that's no problem for you, Grandmaster."

"No, too old to learn how to wield a new weapon, I am," sighed Yeda. "Find a younger swordsman on Coruscant, we shall." Lan felt privately stung that Yeda didn't think of him as a likely candidate. How many times do I have to tell myself, "someday"?

The Jedi gathered up the scrolls and the sack of all of the Adegan crystals, leaving one, and Exor showed them out into the cold night air.

"Return after dinner, we shall?" asked Yeda.

"Perfect. Don't be late," said Exor, slamming the door.

The two Jedi began the long trek down the road on foot in the twilight, arriving at a tavern in Hilhal at nightfall, where they procured a room from the merry tavern owner and had a bite to eat at a table next to some boisterous fly-boys on a break from city living, ostensibly to do some fishing in the river Lan and Yeda had flown over in the Excelsius. Lan felt like engaging the pilots in some much-needed friendly conversation, but Yeda frowned and shook his head, and the two Jedi kept to themselves.

"Memorized the plans, I have," whispered Yeda. "In great danger, Arnas Exor is. Return to his forge soon, we must." Yeda smiled knowingly. "Know that you wish to wield the lightsaber, I do. When more experienced you are, wield it, you shall."

Lan felt somewhat buoyed by Yeda's vote of confidence. He became thoughtful for a moment. "Master, Exor did not look well," he said finally. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

Yeda nodded. "Sense his despair in the Force, I could. Seen many terrible things on Tython, he had. Return with us to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, he must."

Lan and Yeda shoveled their food into their mouth, paid the serving wench and, after Lan had secured the schematics and bag of crystals under his robes, they pushed out into the chilly darkness to start the long walk back to Exor's hamlet in the ominous dark.

A shadow moved behind them, darting from alley to alley as they walked through Hilhal back to the road North and then West.

Mikael kneeled meditating in his sparsely-furnished room in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant when he was disturbed by a hard rap on the door. He heard Master Yo's voice.

"Open, Jedi Mikael," came the order.

Mikael pulled on a robe and opened the door. He was confronted by a dour Master Yo and Jedi Guardians Bran and Alexis, who were both bearing Force-hardened blades in their hands.

"What's the meaning of this?" asked Mikael incredulously.

"We're holding you until further questioning, Mikael. Come along willingly and there won't be any trouble," said Yo.

Mikael's mind whirled, trying to think of anything he could have possibly done to merit being detained in his own home, the Jedi Temple. Finally, he decided to go along with Master Yo until this could be sorted out.

The three captors marched Mikael down to the lowest level under the Temple, once they had allowed him to pull on his tunic and Jedi robes, and he was lead into a grim, chilly holding cell.

"Stay here, and no trouble, understood?" ordered Yo as he shut the gate and locked it. Bran and Alexis stood to either side of the door to stand watch.

"Bran? Alexis? What's going on?" he asked, but got only stony silence from the two Jedi. We're stretched thin enough as it is these days. If they're sparing Bran and Alexis, two of our best swordsmen, on guarding me, the charges must be serious.

Mikael decided that eventually everything would be cleared up, and knelt on the hard stone floor and fell deep into meditation, trying to find some sort of answer in the Force.

Forty:

After an hour's walk down the country roads of Corellia, Lan and Yeda arrived at the weapon master's hovel. The front door was shut, but a light shone from within. Lan rapped on the door with a knuckle hardened by years of striking tree and stone in teras kasi training. "Arnas Exor, open the door. It's Lan Hewan and Grandmaster Yeda."

Lan lowered his head as if straining to hear any sound. There was none. Lan looked meaningfully at Yeda and drew his blade, which he had newly hardened and sharpened with the Force after he had lost his last blade when kidnapped by the Bogans of the Forest. Yeda gripped his gimli stick in the middle so that it could be used as a club, and Lan carefully opened the door.

Inside the hovel there was complete chaos. The table in the center of the room was overturned. Papers and tools were strewn everywhere. Only the weapon master's anvil stood firm. Lan looked with trepidation behind the overturned table and his worst fears were confirmed. "Come take a look at this, Master."

The two Jedi walked around the table as Lan sheathed his blade. Lying face down in the dirt was Arnas Exor. Yeda moved over to him with great sadness in his eyes, and felt his neck for a pulse with a large green finger. He shook his head, and Lan turned him over on his back. Across his chest was a deep, cauterized wound that was clearly fatal.

"Lightsaber," murmured Lan. He looked around. "He didn't have a weapon."

"Surprised, he was," Yeda deduced, stroking his chin.

"Looks like he let the Bogans into his home. Probably thought they were us."

"Burning brightly, his furnace is," Yeda commented.

"The Adegan crystal. Do you think they had time to align its lattices?" asked Lan.

"Know, I do not. Gone, however, the lightsaber is."

"We need to go after those Bogan before they get off-planet."

"Arrange for the proper funeral for Exor, we must. Call the Jedi on Ossus, I shall." Leaving a trail of bodies wherever they go, these Bogans are, thought the Grandmaster.

Yeda moved over to the hyperspace transponder at the side of the room, only to slump his shoulders in dismay. The transponder was ruined and blackened, sliced almost in half by a lightsaber.

"Call Ossus from our ship, we shall," decided Yeda, and moved to the front door.

"Hold on, Master, there's probably some useful things around here, if we take a look. We're going to need all the help we can get. This was a weapon master's workshop, after all. Hold on, what do we have here?" asked Lan.

He held aloft one of a pair of metal bracers of an orange-brown color, slipping it onto his forearm. It covered the wrist but allowed for flexibility there for a sword-wielder.

"This metal looks familiar…" Lan's eyes wandered to his wedding band, and his thoughts then to Shara's engagement ring. "Cortosis! Master, Exor said that Cortosis could stop a lightsaber blade! This could prove quite useful." He slid the other bracer over his other forearm and wrist.

In the meantime, Yeda had moved across the room to where a number of blades were hung on the wall. His gaze fixed on one in particular, a short sword that one of his diminutive size could wield. Lan moved behind him, and Yeda pointed to the blade in question.

"Yes, it's about time you replaced the blades that Bogan sliced in half, Master," Lan declared. He handed the sword down to Yeda and the Jedi Grandmaster slid it in the belt closing his robes.

"Time to harden and sharpen this blade, I do not have. A good blade, this is. Finish it for a Jedi's use, I shall, when I return to Coruscant," Yeda said.

The two Jedi looked about the shop, and Lan went into the adjoining bedroom to return with a large blanket. He respectfully moved to Exor's body and laid the shroud across his still form.

"Go, we must," said Yeda. Lan nodded, and the two Jedi left the hovel and closed the door. It locked from within.

"Where to?" asked Lan.

"Back to our ship, we must go," answered Yeda.

The two set off down the road to the East, their resolve burning as brightly as Arnas Exor's forge.

Forty-One:

Jedi Master An-Yen Shim pursued Chancellor Ulmas down a long passageway to the Senate chambers accessed by both the Chancellor's chambers and the side entranceway now reserved exclusively to the Jedi consulars. Luckily the Chancellor moved slowly, so Master Shim could move at a dignified pace and still catch up to him.

The Chancellor's two Senate guards eyed Shim warily as the Jedi Master cleared his throat. "Chancellor, a word?" he asked.

Chancellor Ulmas turned and favored Shim with a feeble smile. "Yes, esteemed Master Shim."

"I must address you on the matter of Aleeas Isme. He is still being held without any formal charges being levied against him, and I insist that he be given a fair hearing with adequate counsel."

"The matter of Mr. Isme is one of great concern to me, Master Shim," Ulmas began as he turned to walk onwards. "Investigators at the Treasury are even now investigating the money trail from his organization to possible terrorist links. There can be no hearing until we have gathered all possible information to make the State's case against Mr. Isme."

Shim walked alongside of Chancellor Ulmas, who was now walking remarkably fast for someone of his advanced age. "But surely you cannot believe that such a moderate proponent of environmental issues could be in bed with terrorists!" he whispered, for they were nearing the doors to the Senate chamber.

Chancellor Ulmas stopped again and favored Shim with his most condescending smile. "Master Shim, I believe you should leave this investigation to those who have the resources to conduct it. We have granted the Jedi a most privileged position in regards to this government. See to it that you do not make us feel we have made a mistake." He turned and allowed his guards to open the etan-wood doors to the Senate chambers.

Master Shim shivered with anger at being so patronized by the Chancellor, but quickly suppressed the emotion and simply nodded as the two old men pushed into the chaos that was the Senate.

Shim walked to the seat that was now reserved for the Jedi representative in the Senate as Ulmas moved to his position on the dais facing the rest of the assembly. The Chancellor raised his arms, the sleeves of his robe falling back to reveal blue-veined forearms as thin as twigs, and motioned for the Senators to take their seats. It was a testament to the respect bestowed on the Chancellor that the Senate chamber rapidly grew quiet. Even the packed citizens' gallery was reduced to the odd whisper.

"Senators, citizens, Jedi consular," Ulmas began, "Today a most momentous moment has come in the history of the planet of Coruscant, and indeed of our young Galactic Republic.

"As you know, every day countless immigrants, of a hundred different species, arrive at our spaceports to be taken down to this planet's surface and there begin their lives anew. They seek to make a life for themselves in this Republic, choosing to do so at its very heart, our beloved Coruscant.

"I shall get directly to the point. There has been much discussion of how and where to house these immigrants, and how to provide the work necessary for them to support themselves and their families at the dawning of this new age.

"We are faced with a vote on a bill, sponsored by Senator Wreth, Senior Senator of Coruscant, which will determine how the resource known as the 'Lungs of Coruscant' is to be best used. Our most able scientists have determined that our atmospheric-scrubbing technology will provide ample breathable air for the citizens of Coruscant. The 'Lungs' are no longer needed for that purpose. Therefore, this bill will call for the clear-cutting of said Forest, the building of new living quarters on that land, and the usage of the countless natural resources that will be enabled by these actions. We have debated this matter, and have heard all sides of the argument, and now we will decide this matter."

The Senate was oddly quiet as Chancellor Ulmas scanned the seated Senators. "Where is Senator Wreth?" he inquired suddenly.

A well-coiffed young man, of blond hair and wearing a stylish blue suit that stood in stark contrast to the white robes of the Senators, stood and spoke simply. "Chancellor, Senator Wreth has taken ill and will be unavailable for this vote." A murmur rippled through the assemblage.

"And you are?"

"I am Borel Xil, one of the aides on his staff, and he has authorized me to represent him today. I have provided Senator Tedek with my authorization, signed by Senator Wreth."

Tedek nodded as the Chancellor looked to him.

Ulmas seemed momentarily taken aback, but then nodded. "Very well, his representation is acknowledged.

"We shall now take a vote on bill thirteen, regarding the 'Lungs of Coruscant'." He turned to his aide, who rose and read the provisions of the bill. The Forest would be clear-cut, making available mining and precious wood resources, while affordable housing would be built on the cleared land. There would be additional money diverted to military and security forces to deal with terrorist elements, while natives would be placed into camps until they could be assimilated into civilized society.

Master Shim looked around the chamber at the faces of the various Senators, most of whom nodded seriously as they heard the detailed provisions that they had spent weeks hammering out. His mind whirled. I thought we would have more time. You old fool, he silently berated himself. I should have said more. I should have done more.

"This is a momentous decision that none of us take lightly," Chancellor Ulmas spoke again. "We all value the 'Lungs of Coruscant' in our own ways, but nothing lasts forever, not when the health of our Republic hangs in the balance." Again there was more sage nodding from various Senators. "And now we shall take a vote and resolve this matter once and for all."

Ulmas turned to his aide, who boomed, "All those in favor of bill thirteen, say 'aye'." The majority of the Senators rose and spoke 'aye', Senator Tedek being one of the notable exceptions, staying gloomily in his seat.

There was a great commotion from the gallery as Chancellor Ulmas attempted to regain silence, motioning downwards with his outstretched hands. "Silence, silence!" he croaked, as other Senators frowned up at the gallery and made the same motion.

As a semblance of quiet was restored, the Chancellor spoke. "The 'ayes' have it. Bill thirteen has passed. I, agree."

Again the floor and the gallery were in a tumult, and Jedi Master Shim had to steel himself against the whorl of powerful emotions that assailed his keen Jedi sensibilities from all sides. I have failed. He gathered his robes, whirled, and left the chambers.

Forty-Two:

Yeda and Lan trotted East on the Corellian country road, Force senses attuned to danger. There was only a vague sense of darkness at the edge of their senses, producing a general sense of unease in the two Jedi. To their right was a sparse forest; to their left a series of unworked fields, separated by lines of spindly trees. Beyond the fields was more forest.

The disruption in the Force came suddenly, to their left.

"Master!" shouted Lan, swiveling and pulling his scimitar from the sheath on his back and assuming a fighting stance, all in one fluid motion.

In the field to their left slithered a gigantic lizard, a dragon from the mists of Corellian legend. Its eyes burned red and mists of steam snorted from its nostrils.

"How did we miss that?" Lan shouted, incredulously. He looked down at Yeda. "Master?"

The small Jedi Master had not pulled his short sword. In fact, he was leaning his chin on both of his hands, which were folded over his gimli stick, stuck slanting in the dirt road. His face bore a bemused smile which Lan could only glance at before turning his terrified gaze back on the dragon, which was now snorting fire and moving closer to the road on which the two Jedi stood, desperately exposed.

"Strengthen your mind, you must, young Jedi," Yeda said. "Look again, at this dragon, you shall."

Lan peered at the advancing dragon, sweating hands clutching his sword, and shouted "Why aren't you drawing your sword, master?"

Yeda clucked and shook his head. "Only your fears, are you seeing. Not there, what is there."

Lan squinted his eyes, as if that would help him see more clearly. He recalled how Yeda had sometimes warned him, when he was just a boy plucked from his life on Corellia, where people still feared devils and monsters, that these primal fears still existed in him and had to be carefully monitored.

Having Yeda's assurance foremost in his mind, Lan looked at the dragon more dispassionately, and the beast started to flicker like the image on a vid-screen with bad reception. Lan lowered his blade, then sheathed it, a grim smile playing on his lips.

The image of the dragon faded, then disappeared.

"Well played, Jedi!" came a loud mocking tone, followed by a cruel laugh.

Gliding towards them from the back edge of the field, difficult to see against the backdrop of the dark forest beyond, walked a figure familiar to Yeda. It was the apparition he had fought in the nursery of the Jedi temple on Coruscant.

"Who are you?" shouted Lan, blade again in his hands. He felt Yeda's reassuring hand on his elbow.

"To our ship, you shall go. Deal with this Bogan, I shall."

Lan looked from the Bogan to the Jedi Grandmaster, then back again at the apparition. He couldn't repress an involuntary shudder, but then set his jaw. "Alright master, I'll go, but I don't like it."

"Yes, listen to your master, young fool. You are no match for the full power of the Boga," the apparition shouted in mocking tones, now gliding ever closer, half-way across the field. How he had heard their conversation, Lan wasn't sure.

"Go! Go!" whispered Yeda, now pushing Lan's side.

Lan looked once more at the Bogan, then turned and ran to the East, blade still in hand, legs pumping with Force-aided speed. He did not look back.

"Who are you?" asked Yeda of the Bogan in front of him. "Seen you - or your associates - on Tython, I did not."

"Yesss, I have found many willing pupils on Coruscant. It is not difficult for the young to see the advantages of the Boga. So much more of an honest lifestyle than the one you self-denying Jedi lead."

"Corrupts the user, does power without discipline," Yeda answered. "Again, I ask, who are you?"

"Were you on the battlefield in the Valley of Bale, Master Yeda?" asked the Bogan with bemusement.

"Yes, a terrible battle, that was," said Yeda.

"There was a Bogan general on the field that day, thought incinerated by a horrific Jedi weapon of extermination. He vanished in a tower of flame."

"Many terrible things, I saw that day," answered Yeda noncommittally.

"I shall tell you my name, Master Jedi, for you and all the Jedi on Coruscant will be dead soon, and I want you to know what you Jedi made of an honest man on Tython. A man with a family, a life, that you took from him."

Yeda said nothing and waited.

"My name was Bal'Eth, Master Yeda. But now I am known as Revenant."

Yeda's face registered no surprise. "Remember you, I do. Twisted by the Dark Side. A great many atrocities, you committed."

"None as great as the destruction of Bogan society by the followers of Ashla, Master Jedi. And when you had destroyed my planet, you fled to the comfortable arms of Coruscant," Revenant spat. "But now I have found another cause worth fighting for, and killing for. And you are next."

Twin flames burned from the outstretched palms of the Bogan, but Yeda was quick to the draw, thrusting his palm forward to deliver a mighty Force-push that pulsed in the air towards – and through – the Bogan. What Yeda thought was Revenant stood its ground, its image rippling as the Force energy passed harmlessly through it. The image of the black-bandaged figure faded to the peals of distant laughter.

An illusion. That an illusion could cast another illusion, think possible, I did not. Powerful indeed, is this Bogan. Lan! Reach him, before the real Revenant reaches him, I must.

The Jedi Grandmaster thrust his gimli stick in his robe's waist-sash, turned on his heels, and raced down the road, the speed in his short legs aided by the Force.

Forty-Three:

Lan and Uni-Dent circled each other, Lan switching his Force-hardened and –sharpened scimitar from hand to hand, Uni-Dent holding a glowing golden blade in a high two-handed grip by his right ear. Lan had been surprised to see the ex-Jedi descending the ramp of the Excelsius once Lan had thumbed the button to lower it.

"So the Bogans helping you indulge your every perverse whim now, Uni-Dent?" Lan asked nonchalantly, as he eyed the cable attaching the lightsaber to the power pack at Uni-Dent's hip. He recalled Master Yo's advice for confronting a lightsaber-user. The only chance you have is to strike quickly and decisively, to sever the lightsaber's power cord. You then have a crucial moment to strike down your opponent before he can draw his conventional weapon.

"You're such a hypocrite Lan!" Uni spat. "You and I both know the Jedi order frowns on your marriage to Shara. And yet you condemn me for seeking a way to live naturally with my Force-given abilities. You could join us, Lan. We wouldn't judge you."

"How do you know about my marriage? No one outside the Jedi order knows about that! Did Mikael tell you?"

"Mikael? Hmmm…it could be Mikael!" Uni had jabbed within striking distance and swung his lightsaber hard at Lan's neck. Lan resisted the instinct to block the light blade with his sword and instead threw up his left forearm, so that the lightsaber struck the Cortosis bracer covering his wrist. He winced momentarily, but his tactic was rewarded when the blade of Uni-Dent's lightsaber flickered and died. Uni looked confused for a moment, and Lan jabbed forwards and lashed with his blade at the power cord leading to the pack on Uni's left hip. Uni stepped backwards, and with a feral snarl that terrified Lan thumbed his lightsaber back on, the golden blade lighting his face like a hideous bas relief.

"Uni, what have they done to you?" marveled Lan, feinting and slicing with expert footwork, swiveling his hips left and right, seeking an opening past Uni-Dent's menacing passes with his lightsaber.

"They gave me the confidence I never had in the Jedi order, and now I have the power to have your stupid blonde-haired head on a platter!" Uni lunged forwards, bringing his blade in a hard downward blow. Lan whipped his blade into a reverse grip in his right hand and threw his wrists into an x-block above his head. The lightsaber blade struck the notch formed by his Cortosis bracers, and again flickered and died. Lan wasted no time, spinning 360 degrees and slicing Uni-Dent's power cord with a backhanded slash. He grinned fiercely. "Game's gotten a little more fair now, Uni!" he said triumphantly.

His triumph was short-lived. Uni reached out a black-gloved hand and made a gripping motion, and immediately Lan felt as if a vice inside of his neck was squeezing his wind-pipe. Although there was nothing physically there, Lan still dropped his scimitar and instinctively clutched at his neck, scraping the skin in a vain effort to relieve the pressure. "Uni, stop, wh…what are you doing?" he gasped, his eyes bulging, his vision growing dim.

Then, out of the corner of his fading vision, he dimly saw a terrifying sight. The Bogan swathed in black bandages, his fiery red eyes shining in the light of his golden lightsaber blade, advanced into view from the side of the ship. "Yesss, yessss, kill the boy. Demonstrate to me your new-found power, Uni-Dent…"

Suddenly the two Bogans were thrown backwards, lifted off of their feet as if by an invisible blow, and the pressure on Lan's throat was immediately relieved. Lan stumbled backwards, massaging his aching throat, and looked down gratefully to see his master standing next to him, looking up at him and smiling. "A bit more even, the odds now are," said Yeda, facing the Bogans.

The Bogan Revenant floated to his feet, and immediately thrust out a palm, sending a flare of fiery Dark-side energy at the two Jedi. Almost simultaneously, Yeda pointed his gimli stick at the Bogan and sent a green blast of Light-side energy towards him. The two energy bolts met in the middle of the battlefield, exploding in a blinding ball of blue light, blinding all four combatants. Lan threw up a forearm, shielding his eyes, while reaching out with the Force for his blade on the ground. He retrieved it in time to see that Yeda and the two Bogans all had their respective blades held out before them, Revenant the only one holding a slight edge with his lightsaber.

The Bogan master looked from one defiant Jedi to the other, then over to his fearful apprentice, and flicked his blade off. "It appears we have met a bit of a stalemate, gentlemen Jedi," he said ironically. "I will strike a bargain with you. You allow us use of your ship, immediately, and perhaps I will let you leave with your heads attached to your necks. Oh, and I want those Adegan crystals." He motioned menacingly with his lightsaber handle.

Lan sheathed his blade and looked at Yeda, who nodded and smiled, and reached within his robes for the bag of crystals. To his surprise, the neck of the bag was already open and, understanding what Yeda wanted him to do, Lan snaked a finger into the bag to palm one crystal. As he brought the bag forth from his robes, he allowed the crystal to fall into his sleeve. He tossed the bag in a high arc towards the Bogans.

Lan and Yeda spun on their heels as they heard Revenant hiss in anger, and raced on Force-aided legs towards Hilhal, not looking back to see the two Bogans on their hands and knees, hunting for the crystals scattered in the tall, wet grass. For all their failures tonight, Lan allowed himself a small grin as he clutched the Adegan crystal in his right hand.

Forty-Four:

Lan and Yeda arrived at Hilhal as the early morning sun broke the horizon, and made their way through the slowly waking streets to the tavern.

"Find a pilot, we must," said Yeda.

They pushed through the tavern doors and scanned the room as they walked in. The three flyboys that had been carousing last night sat bleary-eyed at their cups of caf, dressed in expensive-looking fishing gear. Lan looked at Yeda, who shook his head. They moved on. There were a few farmers wolfing down huge breakfast plates and cups of caf, but no one that looked promising. Things looked bleak until they spotted a youngish man sitting in the corner, engrossed in a well-worn novel and sipping a steaming cup of caf. The two Jedi exchanged glances, then moved in.

The young man wore simple clothes – high-waisted breeches and a brown work-shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow – but did not look like a farmer. He had tousled brown hair and a boyish, hook-nosed face. He didn't react until Lan and Yeda stood over him. He looked up, irritated. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Are you a pilot?" asked Lan.

"What? No…yes, why?" he asked helplessly.

"We need transport to Coruscant."

"Coruscant? You two are Jedi," he said, seemingly amused. "Sorry, can't help you. Why don't you grab one of those flyboys over there, punch triple-zero in their nav computer, and give them a little push in the right direction?" He pointedly returned to his novel, now clearly distracted.

"Look, what's your price?" asked Lan, producing his bag of credits and opening the drawstring. Lan was digging in the bag for a few chips when he realized the pilot was holding out his hand, palm open.

"The bag."

"What?"

"The whole bag, all of it. Or no Coruscant."

Lan looked at Yeda, who shrugged.

"Alright, but we leave now," said Lan, reluctantly handing over the bag.

"No problem. Solo, Pere Solo," the pilot offered, holding out his hand. Lan raised an eyebrow, then shook it. Solo's grip was remarkably firm, the tendons in his forearm flexing as he shook Lan's hand.

"Lan Hewan. And this is Grandmaster Yeda."

"Grandmaster, huh?" said Solo, without a trace of sarcasm. He nodded respectfully at the diminutive Jedi, who nodded back serenely.

"OK, we've got to get out of here now," said Solo, taking a last sip of caf and grabbing a brown leather jacket from a wall peg. "There have been some strange characters around and I somehow get the feeling that either they're after you, or you're after them."

"What characters?" asked Lan, alarmed.

"Whoever's got you stressed, I think I saw one skulking around last night, before I turned in. I just locked the door and hit the sack, but it did seem odd."

"Followed by the Bogan, we were," interjected Yeda. "Saw one, you must have."

"Bogan? Those are the terrorists they're having trouble with on Coruscant, right? But what are they doing out here?"

"Leave that to us, Solo. We need to get going."

"Agreed. I have a transport out back. Let's go."

The three went around behind the tavern, where a rugged six-wheeled transport was parked. "You'll be surprised how fast this baby is," said Pere Solo, swinging into the driver's seat. Lan and Yeda climbed in behind him. "My ships a kilometer from here, parked on a landing strip. We head through that forest," Solo said, pointing to a line of trees.

Solo gunned the transport and they tore off down a thin, winding road through the woods, Lan holding on for dear life, sure that they would drive directly into a tree at the next hairpin curve. Suddenly they emerged at a clearing linked to a long dirt airstrip. Sitting before them was a long, segmented white merchant vessel perched on three massive wheels, tapering from the huge hyperdrive housing in the rear to a small cockpit in the front.

Pere parked the transport and leaped out, pulling on his jacket and grabbing a slug thrower from the front seat. He strode to the side of the vessel and punched in a code on a recessed pad. A ramp lowered from beneath the vessel, and Solo motioned curtly towards it. "Coming, Jedi?"

Lan and Yeda, followed by Solo, hurried up the ramp, which closed behind them. Lan looked around as Solo headed for the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat. There was a strange agricultural smell in the vessel, possibly manure.

"What do you usually haul in this thing, Solo?" asked Lan.

"Mostly farming supplies. I do a lot of back and forth with Duros and Chandrila. Trying to pay the bills."

Lan peered into a side door opening onto what was obviously Solo's cabin on his long interstellar flights. There was a messy bed with an animal-skin blanket, and a bookshelf stuffed full of books of various sizes.

"Hey, do you mind?" asked Pere as he flicked switches and brought the ship to whining, roaring life.

"You do a lot of reading," observed Lan.

"Well, I don't have a co-pilot, so I have to pass the time somehow. Strap yourselves in, we're taking off. Welcome," he gestured with a mock theatrical flourish, "to the JNC-21."

"JNC-21? Your ship doesn't have a name?" asked Lan.

"Ship's a tool. I don't need to anthropomorphize it."

Must get the big vocabulary from all the reading, Lan muttered to himself, then strapped himself in next to a smiling Yeda, who was observing Solo's flying hands with great interest. The ship pinned them to their seats as it launched forwards and skimmed down the airstrip. Quickly, it climbed on a steep bank towards Corellia's outer atmosphere, the wheels noisily lifting up into the ship's undercarriage.

A few hours later, the viewport was filled with streaking white lines as the JNC-21 burrowed through Hyperspace. Solo had his legs kicked up on the console, and Lan sat next to him, looking with great interest at a picture stuck in the console. He pulled it out, and looked at the girl in the picture. She had long red hair, slightly slanted hazel green eyes, a freckled nose and a charming, crooked smile.

"Your girlfriend?" asked Lan. "She's pretty."

"That's Keira, and she's beautiful, not pretty. I'm besotted with her. You wouldn't know about that, Jedi." Pere grabbed the picture and stuck it in his breast pocket.

"Like hell," retorted Lan. He held up his left hand, showing his wedding band. "I'm married. And I'm besotted with her."

"Alright, alright, Jedi, I didn't mean to imply," said Solo, holding up his hands in mock alarm. "Where's your grandmaster?"
"Probably meditating."

Solo checked the console, then, satisfied, got up and walked to the back of the vessel. "Want some rations, Jedi?"

"No thanks, I think I'll just watch for mass shadows," retorted Lan.

"No need, Jedi, I've got this particular route plotted out like the back of my hand."

Solo passed the tiny guest cabin, where Yeda was sitting cross-legged, straight of back and deep in meditation. As the pilot walked by, Yeda opened one eye and followed his back, smiling mysteriously. He then slipped back into meditation.

Pere came back to the front to sit by Lan, looking at his displays. "We'll be there in about an hour, Jedi."

"So why do you do it, Solo? The long hours in space, I mean."

"We need the money. Keira's family won't let her marry me until I can prove I can support her. I've even thought about piracy, but I like my solitude. I'd hate to have to share a ship with a bunch of knuckleheaded lowlifes."

Lan chuckled. "That makes two of us, Solo."

Within the hour Pere Solo dropped the JNC-21 out of hyperspace, swinging around one of Coruscant's moons. He plotted a course towards one of the orbiting spaceports, and soon was expertly easing the ship against one of the docking arms, a metallic bang echoing through the ship as the vessel's airlock connected with that of the spaceport's arm.

As Lan and Yeda left the ship, they shook hands with Pere Solo, thanking him for the speedy transport. Yeda stopped and looked up at the pilot with a strange squint. "A great destiny, I sense for your family, Solo."

Pere threw his head back and laughed. "Aw, there's as many Solos on Corellia as there are Hewans, Grandmaster. You've got the wrong guy."

"Perhaps," said Yeda, and left the vessel.

"Be safe, Solo," said Lan earnestly, "and good luck with Keira."

"You too, Jedi. Don't ever stop being besotted." The two young men laughed and parted ways.

One week later…

Solo was hurtling through hyperspace on the Corellian Run, the trade route recently mapped from Corellia to the farthest known planets in the galaxy, passing Denon and ending at Tallia. He read fitfully, but his gaze kept returning to Keira's picture. Finally, with a sigh, he pulled out a pad of paper and began composing a letter, hoping to put into words the yearnings he felt for her on these long voyages in coldest space.

He was yanked from his musings by the ship's alarm. A readout on his console blinked in warning red. Mass shadow. A huge one.

"What in the nine hells?" Pere grabbed the hyperspace lever and pulled hard, and the JNC-21 lurched into real space. His heart thudded in his chest. Blocking his ship's path was some sort of huge, bizarre anomaly. Not a black hole, it seemed to be a yawning chasm torn in the fabric of space, super-imposing another pattern of stars inside of it at odds with the constellations visible around it. There was no way around it. He had just passed Denon. It would take some very creative hyperspace plotting by the newly renamed Republic Spacelanes Bureau, if it was at all possible, for ships to continue on to Tallia.

"The Tallians are not going to be happy," said Pere to no one in particular. It was times like these that he wished he had a co-pilot with whom to commiserate. He threw a number of switches, attempting to throw his vessel into full reverse. The engines whined in protest. The anomaly's massive gravitational pull had his ship in its grasp, and Pere had an inkling that he wasn't going anywhere but in. He took the picture of Keira in his two hands and tried to remember what it was like to fall into the real girl's eyes as his ship pitched forward and was pulled into the anomaly.

"Keira…"

Jedi Master An-Yen Shim stood in front of the holding cell, deep in the bowels of the Jedi Temple, his eyes closed, ignoring the two Jedi Guardians between him and the door to the cell, reaching out with the Force to the figure sitting cross-legged within. The Jedi meditating in the cell had his back turned to Shim, and made no movements as Shim touched his Force aura, trying to discern his emotional state.

Shim probed the disgraced Jedi's aura expertly, seeking the taste of chilly darkness that would indicate betrayal of the Jedi order. But as he probed, he found only confusion – no fear, no despair, no emotions that would lead a Force-user down the path to the Dark Side – no, he sensed only confusion, as if the prisoner was trying to find some answers in the Force. Why am I in this cell? What have I done? The prisoner was racking his memory, trying to remember if he had made any missteps, compromised the Order in any way.

"Hmm," grunted Shim, and the prisoner turned his head, and rose to his feet, turning to face Shim.

"Mikael, it is not the way of the Jedi Order to hold one without any formal charges having been made, without informing the prisoner of why he is being held," began Shim.

Mikael's face remained non-plussed.

Shim continued. "You will have a formal hearing before the Jedi Council to determine your fate, once things become more clear." Something is clouding the perception of even the most powerful of the Jedi Masters, mused Shim. Somewhere in this Temple the Dark Side is at work, hiding in the shadows.

"Bran, Alexis, stand aside," Shim said to the two Jedi Guardians. They dutifully moved to stand behind the Jedi Master, and Shim took the key to the cell proffered by Alexis and unlocked the cell door. "For now, Mikael, you are free to go, but we shall be observing you. Do not make us regret this decision."

Mikael nodded dutifully and brushed past the Jedi Master, heading towards the upper levels of the Temple and, at least temporarily, freedom.

What was that emotion Shim detected, ever so faintly? Anger. Ah well, perhaps Mikael has earned that right.

Forty-Five:

Some days later…

Galactic City. Outside of the Capitol City-Alpha City corridor (portions of which were either newer or hadn't been allowed to over-develop), the 'Lungs of Coruscant', the recently drained Great Western Sea, the polar regions and the Manarai mountains, the surface of Coruscant was covered by a spectacularly over-built and spreading ecumenopolis known as Galactic City. Skyscraper was built upon skyscraper when horizontal expansion was not possible to accommodate a burgeoning population, and the lower 50 levels were a neon-lit miasma of crime, pollution and decay that no longer saw the light of day.

The under-levels seemed to have their own weather patterns, and in a foggy, dirty drizzle a dark figure in a hooded great-coat, his or her face concealed by a heavy scarf, moved furtively down the dangerous streets, in a sector that sprouted a few kilometers from Capitol City.

The figure, after stopping and looking around for a moment, ducked into a garbage-strewn alley marked by a red blaze, and was then allowed in through a side door at the end of the alley.

Once inside the figure blinked at the bright lights of what appeared to be a workshop. Springs and gears and timing devices littered the shelves and the table in front of the figure, but most noticeable was a small, shriveled old man standing behind the table, pointing an antiquated pistol.

"What's the password?" sneered the old man.

"Hawkbat," answered the cloaked figure in a young man's voice.

The old man lowered the pistol warily and laid it on the workbench in front of him.

"Alright, I know what you're here for, just one moment." He moved to one of the lower shelves and pulled out a metal box with a digital display inset, along with a numbered touch-pad.

"You're a long way from the Forest to be aligned with the Bogans, old man," remarked the cloaked man as he turned the device proffered to him over in his hands.

"You'd be surprised at how many honest citizens are sympathetic with the cause of the 'Lungs', young man."

The cloaked man suppressed a sarcastic remark regarding the honesty of a bomb-maker living in the lower levels of Galactic City. "Huh. Alright, so tell me how this works."

"I'll give you the activation code, and then you attach it to the drive housing of a hyperdrive. It attaches magnetically." The old man gave the cloaked man a slip of paper on which a series of numbers was written. "The ingenious bit, if I do say so myself, is that the secondary activation algorithm is initiated when this device detects a jump to hyperspace. Then, when the vessel drops out, boom, no more ship." The old man cackled softly to himself.

The cloaked man took the paper and carefully tucked the device and the paper into a satchel under his great-coat, offering a brief glimpse of a strange metal cylinder hanging from a belt cinching a brown robe. He then turned to the bomb-maker and pressed a gloved finger to his shrunken chest. "This better work the way you say it does, or I'll be back." He closed his coat, turned and pushed out of the workshop into the gray drizzle outside.

"Oh, you won't be back, Jedi."

A week later…

In the bowels of the Jedi Temple, Masters Yeda, Shim and Yo huddled around a work table on which lay two pieces of a cylinder that screwed together. Next to those was a large power pack with a long cable attached to it, wound and fastened in a coil. In one of the two pieces of the cylinder was a small square nook that Yo was currently pointing out to the fourth person in the group, a gigantic humanoid with a golden carapace and golden eyes with vertical slits for pupils. Strapped to his back were two equally gigantic scimitars of blackest gleaming metal. "Prince Bos, this is where the Adegan crystal is placed, the crystal that you shall shape with your mastery of the Force in a fiery furnace. The crystal harnesses the bolt that is launched by the cylinder into a blade of light that maintains its integrity as long as one who is strong in the Force focuses on the integrity of the crystal."

The golden figure's face was non-plussed and indeed was incapable of any expression, but his voice betrayed his skepticism. "I am quite capable of defeating any opponent with my blades, Master Yo, as you should know. You taught me all that my father could not."

Yo nodded, and put a hand on the hard shoulder of Bos. "You have been chosen to wield this weapon due to your prowess, Prince Bos. It is necessary that you wield this weapon, for it will be exactly such weapons that you will find in the hands of our adversaries. And these lightsabers cut through almost any metal they strike, including the metal your blades are forged from."

Prince Bos was born of the house of Faz on the planet Binaris, which hung between two binary stars. He had come late to the Jedi order, but the intense military discipline instilled by his warlord father made him a natural student under Master Yo of both the Force and of the fighting arts. Binarians were oriented as a people towards all things binary, like the suns that parched their desert planet, and Yo knew that the ambidextrous Prince Bos would be uncomfortable wielding a single weapon. But at the moment, one lightsaber was all that they could build, possessing only one Adegan crystal of sufficient quality.

"You can wield the blade with two hands, Bos," Shim said quietly.

"Very well, I shall wield this weapon. Tell me of this Jedi Forge ceremony."

Yeda spoke. "Derived from what we learned from weapon master Arnas Exor, it is. Focus on the crystal with the Force, you must. Meditate on it as it hangs suspended by the Force in the furnace, you shall, aligning its lattices into a perfect crystal. Bind the Jedi to the weapon, this ceremony shall."

Suddenly the quartet was disturbed by the young Jedi Eric Stormhammer bursting into the room. "Masters Jedi, forgive me. I have an urgent message for Prince Bos."

Bos turned to face Eric, who was fully recovered from the injuries he suffered when the Bogans had spirited Uni-Dent away. "What news have you?"

"It's a communiqué we received from your father, Lord Bos." Eric took a deep breath.

"Continue," Bos said smoothly as he spread his hands palms downward. His voice bore no noticeable emotion.

"The enemies of the house of Faz are massing at your borders. Your father needs every able-bodied warrior at his side to quell the uprising. That is all we received."

Bos turned to face the Jedi Masters, and saw their grave expressions. Before he could speak, Shim spoke. "Think of your obligations to the Jedi order, Prince Bos. We need you to wield this weapon. The Bogans are a threat to the entire planet, the entire galaxy. Surely your father has enough warriors to deal with this threat."

"I cannot abandon my father in his time of need. Part of what makes me a good Jedi is my sense of responsibility." Shim rose an eyebrow, but allowed Bos to continue. "I must go to my father's side. Hopefully the uprising can be dealt with swiftly, and I'll return in time to deal with the Bogans. This I vow," he added, and the Jedi Masters nodded.

"Go, Prince Bos. Help your father, and then return to help your adopted family deal with the Bogans," said Yo. Bos nodded and spun on his heels, exiting the chamber.

Eric Stormhammer waited expectantly.

"Young Jedi, find Lan Hewan," said Shim.

Grandmaster Yeda nodded, saying to the other two Jedi Masters, "Time for Lan to fulfill his potential, it now is. Wield the lightsaber, he shall."

Eric bowed and left the room to seek Lan Hewan and inform him of the decision of the Jedi Masters.

One day later, in the Talkikan desert baked by Binaris' twin suns, Prince Bos stood with bloodied blades over the body of a Bankor, a docile desert animal that had luckily crossed his path with its herd. In the distance a plume of smoke rose from his ruined starship, its drives useless, its communications equipment fried.

Nearing the planet of Binaris, an explosion had rocked his ship as he dropped out of hyperspace. He suspected the explosion was meant to vaporize his vessel, but it had been inexpertly placed and instead merely damaged his engines enough that he barely managed a crash-landing in the desert.

The water-pouches under the Bankor's hide could be separated from its body by one skilled and experienced enough to perform the incisions, and Bos was one so skilled. Desert survival was a necessary talent all Binarian warriors possessed.

The pouches could be carried, and would provide enough water for the long journey by foot through the burning desert to his father's stronghold. There Bos would stand with his father against their enemies, and then he would return to Coruscant when his obligation was fulfilled.

Although Bos was beginning to suspect that perhaps there had been no uprising at all…

Forty-Six:

The arctic wind howled above the protesting whine of the jumper's rotors, and even huddled in his winter robes, Lan found himself shaking involuntarily from the intense, biting cold.

"Tell me again why we are doing this?" he shouted half-heartedly to the others in the jumper's bay: Bernian, Ne-Ship Yo, and Master Yeda.

"You know the only furnaces on Coruscant hot enough to align the matrix of an Adegan crystal are up here, Lan, now let me concentrate!" Bernian shouted, although with a winning smile.

Lan moved, hunched over, to crouch behind his childhood friend. Sprawled across Bernian's knees was a map of this region of arctic pods, provided to the Jedi by a sympathetic contact in the global census bureau, with precise latitude and longitude coordinates indicated. In his hand he held a global positioning device he had acquired from some brainy friend in the Coruscant academy of sciences. Being a scholar had its benefits, Lan decided. He clapped a gloved hand on Bernian's shoulders. It felt good to have a best friend in the Jedi Temple again, even if only temporarily. Shara was a friend too, but that was, well…different.

The arctic circle of Coruscant was covered by hundreds of kilometers of pods, each one containing a geothermal furnace building surrounded by ten living areas, which were heated via underground ducts connected to the furnace. The plan was to find an uninhabited pod that still had an active furnace, and by the Jedis' estimates, there was only one in the vast sea of arctic living quarters.

The four Jedi had surreptitiously flown to just below the arctic circle, where they found one jumper pilot foolish enough to fly them into the jaws of the arctic winds. When they found the correct pod, the jumper pilot would drop them off, returning within 12 hours. 12 hours to complete their task, or they would be met with utter failure.

"Here! Here!" Bernian shouted through the opening to the pilot's cabin, and the jumper rocked backwards as the pilot pulled up. Master Yo checked that the drop-line was securely fastened to a bar running across the top of the bay door, and looked meaningfully at the other Jedi. Each nodded and lowered a pair of goggles over their eyes and pulled up the hoods of their winter cloaks. They moved beside Master Yo, who clipped their belts to the line, connecting himself last. He then pushed a red button at the side of the bay door, and it slid open.

The maelstrom of bitter cold wind outside surprised Lan. He thought he was prepared for this mission, but this was beginning to feel like madness.

Yo put his hand on Lan's shoulder and said something, but Lan could only see him mouthing the words, which were lost in the screeching winds. Lan shook his head, and Yo nodded and gave him a thumbs-up signal. Lan nodded in return, held on to the line, and jumped out of the bay door.

Lan held on for dear life as the winds swung him wildly from side to side. At one point he was afraid he would be caught in the jumper's rotors, he was swung so high, but he finally managed to reach the ground between one of the living quarters and the furnace-pod Bernian had identified.

Lan unclipped himself from the line with numb, clumsy fingers as the other three Jedi dropped out of the gray swirl and landed beside him. As Master Yo, coming down last, unclipped himself, the line vanished above them and the party moved slowly around the outside of the furnace housing, looking for an entrance. As they did so, the snowstorm around them began to abate somewhat.

Finally they found an opening, and entered into a wide passage that circled the furnace housing which had openings to walkways between the abandoned living pods outside every ten meters. They moved slowly, looking for an entrance into the central structure where they would find the furnace and perform the Jedi Forge ceremony that would join Lan to the blade of light he would wield.

Then Lan, who was taking the point, stopped, raising an open palm to indicate to the rest of the party to halt. He strained his ears, and outside, above the howl of the wind, came an unearthly, keening wail, coming closer by the second. "Yurekesh," Lan heard Bernian shout, indicating the apocryphal mounts of arctic barbarians. All four Jedi drew their weapons as grizzly-haired, wild-eyed men of great bulk poured into the two openings between which the Jedi were trapped. They formed a semi-circle, facing the outside wall, with Lan facing towards the opening ahead of them and Bernian taking up the rear.

From what Lan could see, the men attacking them carried weapons and shields scavenged from some ancient factory: great wrenches for clubs, and metal sheets for shields. And then the first wave was upon them. The barbarian attacking Lan yelled in rage and brought his club down at Lan's head. Lan settled into a low horse-riding stance and parried with his blade in a quick upward sweep, the incredibly sharp blade slicing the club in half. He then brought his blade down across the surprised Barbarian's chest, cutting him deeply. A backslash across the neck severed his head. The next man in the wave slammed into Lan's shoulder with his shield just as Lan was straightening up, knocking Lan against the wall of the furnace housing. Even out here, he could feel its heat. Lan thrust out his empty palm, delivering a quick Force push that knocked his attacker back a step, giving Lan time to jump forwards and surrender himself completely to the Force.

He closed his eyes for a moment and felt the swell of energy - he could almost see its golden color - flow through him. He opened his eyes and reality was a lattice work of thin green threads, guiding his hand as he counter-attacked the barbarian, who now seemed to move as if trapped in thick syrup. Lan was surprised for a moment, as he had never experienced the Force in this way. But he didn't even have time to blink. His blade moved with lightning quickness, and he easily cut the shield in half with a sharp sweep, amputating the berserker's arm above the elbow. A downward chop split his head. His blade sang and danced in his hands as he critically wounded the next attacker.

Suddenly, four barbarians were tossed like ragdolls back from the Jedi, slamming hard against the outside wall and slumping, unconscious. Lan fell out of his reverie and the world returned to normal. He found himself breathing great heaving breaths.

"Here to kill these men, we are not," he barely heard Yeda sternly pronounce.

The remaining barbarians stood at the entrances, but warily stayed back. Outside Lan could see the shaggy Yurekesh mounts pacing back and forth, whining and bucking like Corellian horses as their riders tried to control them.. They could smell blood.

Lan looked down at the men he killed with regret, repressing a shudder as he looked at the razor-thin cuts his blade had produced, now spouting blood. The barbarians' pale, glassy eyes stared stupidly at the nothingness of death out of their bushy faces.

Then he heard Master Yo call his name, and he turned to see his friend, Bernian, lying barely conscious where he had stood and fought one of their attackers. Lan ran to Bernian's side as Master Yeda kept watch with his gimli stick extended, threatening another mighty Force thrust.

Lan crouched by Bernian, concern etched on his face. "What happened?" Yo was holding a gauze pad to a bloody wound on Bernian's head.

"Looks like a concussion," said Yo. "I've put him into a healing trance, but I'm going to have to carry him the rest of this journey."

"You'll be alright, Bernian," Lan whispered as he stroked his friend's dark hair. But there was little time now to worry.

Yo stood and heaved the thin Jedi's body over his burly shoulder, and Lan's friend looked for all the world like a broken twig.

"Disturbed these mens' homes, we have," Yeda said gravely. "Move quickly to find the furnace, we must. Attack again, they might."

"There's a map of one of these structures in Bernian's pack," said Lan, picking the satchel up from the ground where Yo had laid it. "Let's get somewhere safer – and warmer – and see where we go next."

"Find the entrance quickly, we must," said Yeda.

The other two Jedi nodded mutely and they moved on, Yeda taking the rear and pointing his gimli stick menacingly at the mistrusting Barbarians, who were slowly entering the passage to tend to their wounded and take their dead to wherever they honored their fallen heroes.

Forty-Seven:

Uni-Dent slouched in the tent deep in the 'Lungs of Coruscant', scowling at the Jedi turncoat currently reporting to Revenant. He felt restless, frustrated, tight. It had been weeks since his liberation from the Jedi order, and since then, except for the brief excursion to Corellia, he hadn't stepped foot outside of this accursed Forest. He longed for the city and its attendant pleasures. Revenant wasn't even following through on his promise to expand his knowledge of the Force, to grant him the full power of the Dark Side. Ah, but Corellia was sweet. I almost took Lan Hewan's life. Almost.

And now the turncoat had the full attention of Revenant.

"So you say you have been tasked with guarding this shipment?" hissed Revenant.

"Yes, myself and the Jedi Guardian Bran. But we have no idea what the shipment consists of, only that it's coming through Alpha City Skyport and is being routed down through one of the underground tunnels," explained the turncoat.

"Very well, do you know the route already?"

"Yes, we were briefed today. I have a map." He unrolled it on a table for Revenant.

"Yess, yessss, there are tunnels branching off from this juncture," said Revenant, jabbing a bandaged finger at the map, "tunnels that can lead to a remote area where we can load the shipment on a waiting jumper. Excellent, you have done well!" Revenant clapped a hand on the turncoat's shoulder as Uni-Dent smirked and sunk further into his black cloak.

"It is of the utmost importance that you be taken off of this detail," Revenant continued. "You have done well using my Dark Force technique of masking your true nature in the midst of all those Jedi," he spat, "but in this case I believe a bit more convincing will be needed."

"But you haven't told me what's in the shipment, Master Revenant," asked the turncoat.

"You needn't concern yourself with that, no." Revenant paused and considered. "No, it is only fair you know what is at stake. This shipment contains a large, a substantial, quantity of the finest Adegan crystals, from the largest mine in the Adega system itself. These crystals can be used to arm all of us Bogan and our attendant Dark Force users with lightsabers. It will turn the balance of power between us and the Jedi decidedly in our favor."

The turncoat nodded. "So what do you want me to do?"

Revenant turned and extracted a vial from a chest in the corner of the tent. "Drink this vial before you are told to proceed to the rendezvous. It will make you violently ill, and you will be taken off of the guard detail. Violently ill, until," and here Revenant produced another vial, "you drink this. Once you drink the second vial, your strength and health will be restored, and then it will simply be a matter of intercepting the Jedi guarding the shipment and slaying them with your lightsaber, a task I have full confidence you will complete."

"Very well, Master Revenant," spoke the turncoat, and took the proffered vials in gloved hand and stashed them in his robes. He moved to the open tent flap, turning to look at Uni-Dent. "Uni, it is good to see you, as always."

Uni-Dent flicked a disdainful salute at the turncoat, and crossed his arms.

"Hmmph," said the turncoat, and walked out into the clearing outside of the tent.

"Uni-Dent, we will discuss your attitude later," snapped Revenant. "I know you are frustrated; your frustration seethes off of you like a foul cloud. Focus your anger, for I will need you at your full power very soon. Rejoice, for you will soon be performing a very important task." Revenant patted Uni-Dent on the shoulder and left the tent.

The cold of the arctic winds was beginning to freeze Lan to his very bones, despite his winter robes, and he couldn't keep his arms from shaking. They would be in big trouble if they had to defend themselves again. He knew the Jedi Masters with him would be yearning for entry into the warm furnace housing as much as he did.

Finally, rounding the housing, they came upon a large metal door with a large wheel in its face. Yo nodded at Lan, who stepped to the door and took the wheel in his hands, shuddering at the icy cold penetrating his mitts. He leaned into the wheel and tried with all his might to turn it, but it was either frozen or rusted in place.

He felt a hand on his thigh, pushing him to the side. Yeda stood in front of the door, his eyes closed, his arms spread wide, and slowly, with an ancient metallic wrenching sound, the door tore from the housing and floated in mid-air, until Yeda opened his eyes and the door thudded to the ground. Yeda took the gimli stick from his belt and stepped inside, followed by a grateful Lan and Master Yo, who was still carrying Bernian.

Once in, the three Jedi were able to pull back their hoods, as they were immediately greeted with a wonderful blast of warm air. They moved into the dim hallway inside until they were far enough from the open doorway to put Bernian down. Lan pulled a torch from his pack with aching fingers and lit it. Master Yeda and Lan watched as Master Yo checked Bernian's aura in the Force, making sure his condition wasn't deteriorating too rapidly. Yo nodded at the two, indicating they still had some time, and the three spread out the map of the furnace housing on the ground and huddled around it, Lan holding the torch overhead.

"It looks simple enough," said Master Yo, taking off his mittens and pointing at the map. "We turn off to the right up ahead, and then there's a staircase that circles down to the furnace below. The real question," and here he scratched his head, "is how we get out without running into our friends out there again."

"It looks like there are passages to some of the living quarters radiating from the furnace core," said Lan, indicating three passages that ran parallel to heating vents leading to living modules. "Maybe the people in charge of maintenance of the furnace lived in those quarters."

"Hmmph, yes," mused Yeda. "Exit on the opposite side of this pod we shall. Avoid the Barbarians, we must."

Lan gathered the map with his free hand as Yeda gently lifted Bernian with the Force onto Master Yo's shoulder, and the party of the three intrepid Jedi Knights proceeded down the hallway and branched off to the right, reaching the circular staircase down. The heat was becoming oppressive, and the Jedi had to stop and remove their winter cloaks, cinching them across their shoulders with cord from their packs.

Lan and Yeda looked meaningfully at each other and headed down, Yo bringing up the rear with his heavy burden.

Lan wasn't prepared for the heat when they reached the bottom of the steps and the entrance to the furnace chamber. He also didn't expect it to be so dark. Obviously the furnace was shut, and the only source of light was his flickering torch, casting dancing orange figures on the wall.

"Create a heat shield with the Force, I shall, before we open the furnace," said Yeda.

Yo carefully lowered Bernian to the ground outside the entrance, and followed Lan and Yeda into the furnace chamber after checking on the injured Jedi again.

The three stripped down to their breeches and undershirts, sweat pouring from every pore and soaking their clothes. This is going to be a problem when we're out in the cold again, thought Lan. Then he smiled to himself. Funny, I wasn't sure if Master Yeda could sweat! But the diminutive Jedi Grandmaster was sweating indeed.

"Ready, are you?" Yeda asked of Lan.

Lan took a deep breath. "Ready."

The furnace was a tall metal cylinder reaching up into the darkness of the circular chamber, and had a metal access door directly in front of them. Lan placed his torch in a sconce on the wall, and sat cross-legged next to the two Jedi Masters.

"Open the door, I shall," warned Yeda, and reached out with a three-fingered hand to point at the access door. With his other hand, he made a gesture with an open palm as he closed his eyes and concentrated with creased forehead, and Lan felt the air around him cool somewhat. The heat shield, thought Lan. Here we go.

The access door swung open, and a roaring inferno bringing to mind the ninth Corellian hell sprung from the opening. Its flames licked against the heat shield Yeda had created with the Force, which shone with blue light wherever the fire touched it. Still, Lan's hair blew backwards and he feared he would leave the place with first degree burns on his face.

"Produce the crystal, Jedi Hewan," intoned Master Yo, who had unscrolled a parchment he had carried in his pack.

Lan looked worriedly at Yeda, who was still concentrating with eyes closed and hands extended, then reached for a small velvet cloth at the bottom of his pack that held the crystal. He brought it forth, and using the Force, let it glide from his hand across the room, through the heat shield into the blazingly bright heat of the furnace.

"I know it will be hard in this heat, Lan, but you must now meditate, meditate more deeply than ever before in your life. I will feel when you are sufficiently deep in the Force," shouted Master Yo over the roar of the geothermal furnace.

Lan placed his hands on his knees and shut his eyes, reaching out with his mind to the peace, the quiet, the coolness of the Light Side of the Force. He let the sensation of cool air encase him, until he was able to sink deeply into the calming cushion of the Light Side. He heard Yo's voice as if from a mighty distance.

"Seek out the crystal with your mind, Lan," said the voice. "It hangs suspended by my power in the furnace. You must reach it now with your mind and keep it suspended in the heart of the flames."

In the mindscape that stretched out before him, Lan saw the crystal as a glistening brightness encased in an orange glow. He was no longer aware of the room, of the heat, of the flames or the heat shield. He focused on Yo's voice, as they had discussed back at the Jedi Temple.

The ceremony they were about to perform was found on the back of the lightsaber schematics they had taken from Arnas Exor's workshop. Similar in some ways to the method a Jedi used to harden and sharpen a conventional blade, it was a way of allowing a Jedi to focus on a molecular level to align the lattices of the crystal to be used in the lightsaber to control the incredibly powerful bolt of energy that would form the blade. And in so doing, the Jedi formed a close bond with the crystal in his lightsaber, through the Force.

"Do you hear me, Lan?" shouted Yo.

"Yes, Master Yo," Lan said, calmly, with a breath like a breeze on a spring meadow issuing from his lips.

Yo spoke, his booming voice intoning the words found on the scroll, and Lan responded to each statement by repeating it in the same perfectly calm voice with which he had first answered the Jedi Master:

I am the Force

The Force is the Universe

The universe is inside of me

I am the crystal

My spirit and the crystal merge

I am Jedi

I am small but one with the Force

I go deeper deeper deeper

Lan felt himself growing smaller and smaller, Yo's voice more distant and distant, until the crystal loomed before him like a towering monolith, and he could see clearly for the first time the imperfect lattices of the structure. He could feel Master Yo in the Force, a steadying, calming and empowering influence on his energy field.

I see the crystal

I am one with the crystal

I bend the crystal to my will

I am Jedi

I am one with the crystal

I am one with the Force

Lan reached out with a glowing white hand and carefully moved each lattice, one by one, aligning them all into a perfect crystalline formation. He lost all concept of time, in complete awe of the power of perfection that he found within himself. He was the creator, the organizer, of this small piece of the universe.

Each lattice made a pleasing clicking sensation as it locked into place, and soon the Adegan crystal shone before him in translucent perfection.

He turned his head skywards and, with dizzying speed, sped upwards and outwards, growing larger and more cohesive until his eyes popped open and he saw the small cube that was the crystal hanging in the air in front of him. The heat and the noise returned, and he turned to see Master Yo nodding at him with a satisfied expression. The access door slammed shut, and Master Yeda opened his eyes, smiling at Lan.

"Completed your Jedi Forge ceremony, you have," said the Grandmaster. "Followed in the footsteps of Arnas Exor - carried on a new Jedi tradition - we have today."

Lan's beloved Master gathered himself to his feet and hobbled out of the chamber, leaning heavily on his gimli stick. Lan noticed for the first time how exhausted the Grandmaster looked; how exhausted he himself felt. He wrapped the crystal – hot to the touch - in its cloth and placed it in his pack. He left the furnace chamber.

Beyond the opening to the furnace room, at the foot of the stairs, a passageway continued in a circular manner around the outside of the chamber, and they soon found one of the exits to an outside pod. It was still dark inside, the only available light being the torches that Lan and Yeda now carried.

They came to a room that seemed to be some sort of deep ash pit, perhaps containing the waste from a cooking furnace, with a small ledge circumventing it to the left. Yeda went ahead, his small stature allowing him to move comfortably on the narrow ledge, and he soon was in the chamber beyond, the glow of his torch receding in the darkness ahead.

Yo went next, moving with agonizing slowness as he used the Force to help keep his balance, and keep Bernian light on his back, until he reached the far side of the pit.

Lan eyed the ledge warily and adjusted the robe cinched to his back, his pack containing its precious cargo, and his blade, and took a deep breath. Master Yo nodded to him and, torch held high, he put one step in front of the other.

He lost his balance.

"The torch!" shouted Master Yo, and Lan had the presence of mind to toss the torch aside so it landed on the ledge before he landed, arms flailing, feet first in the ash pit.

Yo carefully put Bernian down and extended his hands, eyes closed, and Lan could feel the tug of the Force as Yo sought to raise him out of the ash pit. He rose slightly, but then felt another tug, this one from something that seemed to be wrapping itself around his ankle.

"Master!" shouted Lan, trying to warn Master Yo that he was being pulled dangerously in two different directions. Master Yo opened his eyes in alarm and let go of his grasp of Lan in the Force, and Lan suddenly found himself being pulled down into the ash pit.

"I think something's got me!" he shouted as Master Yo looked desperately around the room. He saw what he was looking for: a shovel.

Yo scraped away the ash from the edge of the pit and found a step down. He jumped onto this ledge and began digging Lan out of the ash pit. Lan grabbed the lower ledge and tried to hang on as he felt whatever creature had his leg trying to pull him in half.

"Agh, you've…got..to…hurry!" he gasped.

Yo had dug him out to his waist, crouched on the lower ledge and wrapped one large arm under Lan's armpits as he drew his blade with the other hand. He heaved once. This would probably be the only chance he got to reveal the tentacle before it dragged Lan too far down. Lan screamed as Master Yo pulled him up, but there, covered in soot, was the scaly tentacle wrapped around Lan's left leg. Yo chopped once, twice, with expertly aimed blows, and the severed extremity of the creature of the ash pit sank below the surface, spouting dark blood.

Yo pulled Lan out of the pit, and the two Jedi sat, chests heaving, on the lower ledge.

"Master Yo, why is it I who will wield the lightsaber?" asked Lan after a moment. "Aren't you a better choice?"

"Lan," said Yo, "you are the future of the Jedi. I am but an old man, strong in technique and in the Force, but reflexes slow, my senses dulled. There is more to wielding a blade than knowledge of the Force." He smiled. "You didn't expect me to say that, did you?"

"No," laughed Lan, rubbing his leg. "You're usually telling me how worthless my reflexes are without a stronger connection to the Force."

"I never said worthless, Lan. Your reflexes are quite formidable. And you will need every tool at your disposal for what comes ahead, I fear." He huffed once as he pulled himself and Lan to their feet. "Let's go. We need to get Bernian to the healers, and we need to get to that jumper and a heater before we freeze to death in these wet clothes."

"Agreed," said Lan. Wet and dirty, they took off their packs and bundled up in their winter robes again. Yo ensured Bernian was well-insulated, and Lan pulled out another torch as they left the room, Bernian once again slung over Master Yo's shoulder.

Forty-Eight:

"Snap the crystal into place, you shall," ordered Yeda, and Lan took the assembled lightsaber in his hands, the Adegan crystal sitting on a table in the corner of a large training room in the heart of the Jedi Temple. Around him were Jedi Masters Yeda, Ne-Ship Yo and An-Yen Shim. A solemn mood permeated the brightly lit chamber.

There was a small access panel above the blaster releaser unit at the base of the weapon, and Lan slid it back, reaching for the Adegan crystal with the Force so that it floated in the air towards him. Lan felt a strange kinship with the crystal after perfecting it in the arctic furnace the day before, as if he was a proud father who was now seeing an important milestone in the life of his child.

He pinched the crystal in two fingers and placed it with a satisfying click into the nook in the heart of the lightsaber, and closed the access panel. He looked warily at the Jedi Masters.

"Are we ready to attach the power source?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Yo, producing a large powerpack that could be worn on the hip, connected to a metallic power cord "May I?" Yo extended a hand.

"Sure," said Lan, and handed across the lightsaber.

"The power cord clicks in here", instructed Master Yo as he inserted the tip of the power cord into a plug hole at the base of the lightsaber. "Now, before you activate the lightsaber, you must feel settled in the Force. Feel the connection with the crystal you perfected so you can maintain the integrity of the blade, both for your safety and for the weapon's effectiveness."

Yo handed the weapon back to Lan with somber ceremony, and Lan took it in both hands in the same spirit. He closed his eyes and sank into the Force, feeling the proximity of the crystal in the lightsaber. As in the furnace room, he perceived its perfection and let the Force run through him and around and through the crystal, until he felt a link form with it. He opened his eyes, and he saw the infinitely thin green lines he now sometimes perceived when deep in the Force bending as a deep gravity well centered on the Adegan crystal in his lightsaber.

He thumbed the blade to life, seeing the bolt flash towards the crystal in his mind. He concentrated in the Force on the integrity of the blade, and perceived it passing with infinite slowness through the lattices of the crystal, which seemed to slow the energy pulse and form it, until it became a beam of golden light over a meter long.

Master Yo held a long metal rod in his hand and extended it.

"Strike," he said.

Lan swung the blade with exaggerated slowness, unsure of the strangely heavy cylinder in his hand. The blade of light passed through the rod like a knife through warm butter, easily slicing it in half.

Yo then held up an RPW, and thumbed it to fire a single slug at a time. "It will take time to develop a fighting form intended to deflect projectiles, but if you are couched deeply enough in the Force, you should be able to block this." And without warning, Yo raised the RPW and fired a rubber slug at Lan.

The slug moved slowly on a green thread towards Lan, and he swung the blade, easily catching the slug on its golden brightness, where it sizzled to oblivion.

Lan laughed, and his connection to the crystal wavered and the blade flickered and died. The room zoomed into focus and Lan no longer perceived the green lines. He reminded himself to discuss with Master Yeda the new way that he perceived the Force in combat.

"Impressive," croaked Yeda.

"Very," smiled Lan, a bit disappointed that he was not able to concentrate more fully on maintaining the blade. That could prove to be a liability in combat, which Master Yo was quick to point out.

"You will need to spend many hours training with this blade, Lan Hewan," he said, "but you have taken a good first step."

Yo turned to the other Jedi Masters with his face set as it usually was when trying to get a point across.

"Masters Yeda, Shim," he began, "you must agree with me that these times call for the arming of all in the Jedi Order. We must become not just philosophers, but warriors. That was our downfall on Tython."

Shim steepled his fingers as Yeda tapped his gimli stick on the ground, looking downwards in thought.

"Won the war on Tython we did," Yeda said finally.

"Yes but at what cost?" retorted Yo. "And you saw what happened to Bernian yesterday. If he had been properly maintaining his fighting skills while on Ossus, he wouldn't now be in a healing trance in the infirmary!"

"Make another hasty decision, we shall not," said Yeda, looking at Shim. "Learned the penalty for hasty decisions, has Master Shim."

A lesser Jedi would have blushed in humiliation, but Shim merely nodded. "Indeed, this is a decision that the entire Jedi Council must deliberate on. But I believe Grandmaster Yeda and I can both agree your point has merit, Master Yo."

But Master Yo's focus was no longer on the discussion. He was gazing in proud wonder at Lan, who was taking the lightsaber through the paces of the Shii-Cho fighting form in the center of the training room.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" whispered Yo.

The spinning blade cast dancing golden light and shadows on Lan's face as he effortlessly struck and parried an invisible opponent, ducked and weaved, feinted and counter-attacked, using the form first created for when a wielder of a Force-hardened and sharpened blade used it against a conventional opponent, an opponent unable to block the strikes. It called for attacking basic striking zones on the opponent's body for maximum damage, but only when "sun djem", or disarming the opponent, was not an option.

Now that the Jedi faced an opponent who also wielded lightsabers, it would take time to develop a fighting style suited for dueling another wielder of a similar weapon. There were significant differences between conventional blades and lightsabers that had to be taken into account when developing fighting styles for the new weapon, not the least of which was the fact that the entire weight of the lightsaber rested in its hilt. In the meantime, Yo had already counseled Lan to use a modified version of the Gilyan style of sword dueling, which had been created for when two users of Force-strengthened blades clashed on the fields of battle on Tython.

Lan was a quick study.

Lan easily moved into the paces of the Gilyan style, and Yo called out instructions to him in an authoritative voice. "Lan, remember that the opponent's lightsaber can easily slide down your blade and take your hands off at the wrist. Keep your blade angled, no, more horizontal, yes, there!"

Lan snapped off the lightsaber, hooked it to his belt, and turned, smiling, to Master Yo. "Master Yo, I don't think I'm going to have to worry too much about my wrists," he said, moving to the corner of the room where his pack lay on the floor.

Yo cast a quizzical look at Master Yeda, who simply shrugged and nodded towards Lan, who was now pulling something over his wrists in the corner. He turned triumphantly and held up the cortosis bracers guarding his wrists.

"I found these in Arnas Exor's workshop, Master Yo," he explained as he came over to the Jedi masters and held out the bracers for inspection. "Exor discovered that cortosis is one of the few metals in the galaxy that can stop a lightsaber blade. I'm not going anywhere without these!"

Yo grasped Lan's wrists and turned them over in his hands, his brow furrowed. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Well, in any case, Lan, these are no excuse for poor technique."

Lan smiled and removed the bracers. "Understood. Now, with your permission, Masters, I have somewhere to be."

He went back and put the bracers, lightsaber, and power pack in his bag, and nodded, grinning, at the perplexed Jedi masters as he left the training room whistling tunelessly.

Forty-Nine:

Lan lay in Shara's bed, propped up on one elbow, gazing in utter admiration at his wife, lying next to him. Her perfect nose, her tawny hair, her exotic eyes, her curving form, concealed beneath a thin sheet. What did I ever do to deserve this goddess? he wondered, not for the first time. He twirled a strand of her hair around a finger as she stared at the ceiling.

She yanked her hair away from him, rolling to face him. "Lan, stop," she snapped, irritated.

"What's wrong?" he said, frowning.

"I have something to tell you, but I don't know how to say it."

"Out with it then, I'm sure it's not so bad," he said, smiling.

"No, I'm really worried." She slumped onto her back. "I'm going to Alderaan."

"Vacation plans?" he joked.

"Lan, c'mon, grow up. Mistress Yadla told me right before you came."

He grew more serious. "OK, why?"

"Well, Senator Hail Lay-La has been holed up there for months, dealing with the Tivanni insurrection."

"Right, I heard about that. Pretty rare for anyone to cause trouble on a paradise like Alderaan. But why are you seeing her?"

"The Jedi Council is worried that all the conflict in the Senate is going to tear the Republic apart before it can even gain solid footing. Master Shim has been meeting with the Chancellor, and I guess they both agreed that Lay-La would be a calming influence. She's one of the most skilled diplomats we have."

"Well, that sounds like a great idea. Why didn't they think of that before?"

"Well, she was tied up on Alderaan. Lan, listen to me for once," she said brusquely. "I already told you that."

"So what are you worried about? Sounds like a milk run. I mean, I was in the arctic circle yesterday, fighting Barbarians and freezing my chab off."

Shara rolled back to face him. She ran a finger along his cheekbone, and he turned his head and kissed its tip.

"I know, Lan. And I was worried sick." Her eyes became softer. "I'm always worried when we're apart, these days."

He nodded. "But you are sensing something, something in the Force, about this trip?"

She frowned, tucking her sharp chin. "Yes. Something's going to happen. I just don't know what." She thought silently for a moment, then raised her face to look him in the eyes. Her almond eyes flashed. "Can you keep a secret, my love?"

"Of course, of course, what is it?" he replied, concerned.

"I'm not going to Alderaan just to see Senator Lay-La."

"OK, now I'm worried."

"There's a source there, one of Mistress Yadla's contacts, I think she became friends with them through the Jedi Watchman in that sector who was once one of her padawans."

"Right, so?"
"So this contact has information on how the Bogans and the eco-terrorists are getting their funding, how they seem to have more resources that the Republic itself."

"And the Force is telling you there is some danger in this trip?"

"Not telling just me. Mistress Yadla felt it too. But we have no choice."

"The Bogan are probably going to be watching this contact. Could that be the danger?"

Shara nodded mutely. Tears welled in her eyes. "Whenever I'm apart from you, Lan, I suffer." She held his chin in one delicate hand. "Do you understand?"

He nodded, his eyes growing wet. "I thought suffering was the result of turning to the Dark Side. We're Jedi, we're not supposed to suffer."

She kissed his cheek, quickly. "Mistress Yadla once told me, when I was a youngling: Through suffering we can learn, through learning we grow wise, through wisdom we are strong."

"Master Yeda would never acknowledge that," mused Lan.

"I know. Mistress Yeda always had a more," Shara searched for a word, "understanding view of emotions. I never would have married you without her blessing."

"Don't be afraid. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, suffering leads you into the shadows…"

"UGH!" Shara fell on her back, pulling her hands through her hair in exasperation. "Why are we lying her spouting platitudes at one another, when we should be loving each other?" She turned her head to look at her husband, who had fallen into thought.

"Do you know what Uni-Dent told me, Shara? On Corellia? He called me a hypocrite. Said there was no difference between us and him."

"Don't you listen to that twisted Bogan, Lan," Shara said steadily, leaning on her elbow to look Lan squarely in the eyes. "What he does is wrong, is an abomination of everything the Force should be to a Jedi. What we have, yes we risk becoming attached in the wrong way, but our love guides us to the light, Lan, don't you feel that?"

Rather than answer her, Lan simply took Shara's face in his hands and kissed her deeply, feeling that exhilarating wash of lightness and light that surged through him every time their lips met. He fell on top of her, kissing her neck as she cooed softly like an Alderaanian dove, and he felt her eyelashes flicker on his cheek like a shimmerbird as he heard her whisper "Do you know that every time we are together could be our last?"

His answer was to kiss her more deeply, and they fell together into the light.

In his austere chambers elsewhere in the Jedi temple, Grandmaster Yeda sought his own blissful connection with this light, though through different methods.

He sat on a simple mat, legs crossed, back erect, hands on knees, eyes closed, a small smile playing on his wide mouth. Deeply couched in the Light Side of the Force, he perceived a vast, bright field of shining whiteness. This clear, clean energy passed around and through him, easing his worries, soothing his troubled mind, rejuvenating his bruised body.

Then a corner of his mouth twitched. A crack appeared in the whiteness, a golden vertical glow that slowly grew wide as it spread like a door opening in a tent. Yeda's eyes sprung open. He gathered the Force around him, prepared to defend himself as he studied the figure standing before him, who shone with a golden glow in his chambers.

The figure was a human male of medium height, with tousled light hair and an honest face worn and lined with age and trouble. He wore a pants and tunic of unfamiliar cut and style to Yeda, although they were simple and unaffected in their fashion, and over these he wore a large, darker cloak similar to the robes that the Jedi themselves wore. Yeda's gaze turned to the figure's belt, where a lightsaber of alien design hung. No loop of power cord or power pack was visible.

The figure stood patiently as Yeda made these observations, then spread his hands in a gesture of peace as he spoke calmly.

"Greetings Master Yeda," he began. "My name is Luke Skywalker."

Fifty:

"Tell me, you will, how in my chambers, you came to be," demanded Yeda of the glowing figure. "An illusion of the Dark Side, you might be." Yeda glowered warily.

"Search your feelings, Master Yeda," spoke the phantasm. "You know I am not here from the Dark Side."

And indeed he was not, Yeda noted, as he sampled the apparition's emanations in the Force. He sensed great goodness in this Skywalker, tinged with regret, sadness and a huge burden of responsibility.

"Let me explain how I came to be here, Master Yeda," Skywalker began by way of explanation. "My master, after he died, spent a great many years in the spirit world of the Force, where space and time have no meaning, before he returned before me to teach me what he had learned.

"He taught me two things: a way to send my spirit back in time through the Force, and the knowledge of the origins of his own spirit.

"I am from 25,000 years in your future, Master Yeda, in a time of great conflict and unease in the galaxy. In my time, I am Grandmaster of the Jedi Order."

Yeda's eyes widened slightly. "Travelled far, you have, Skywalker. Wonder, I do, how you accomplished this."

Skywalker smiled in the golden glow. "It's actually easier to travel many millennia in time than a short distance. Try to think of it in terms of your arm. Isn't it easier for your hand to touch your shoulder, a greater distance, than your elbow, which is closer to the hand in a linear sense? In this same way, my master and I discovered that it was easier to send my spirit great distances than a short distance back in time."

Yeda nodded. "Of the origins of his spirit, you spoke."

"My master's spirit originated in your time period, at the beginning of the Republic. He was reincarnated in the Republic's time of greatest need, some centuries before I was born. Without my master, the Jedi order would never have survived.

"His name was Master Yoda. He was your spirit, reincarnated."

Yeda rocked back in shock, then reached for his gimli stick and struggled to his feet. "Understand, you must, that hard to believe, this is," ruminated the Jedi Grandmaster in a small voice. Amazing though the revelations were, in his heart Grandmaster Yeda suspected this strange Jedi master from the future spoke the truth. Yeda reached into the Force for support.

"Tell, me, Master Yeda," continued the figure, "is there another like you?"

Yeda stopped pacing to consider whether he should divulge any information to this stranger who was ostensibly from the future, then spoke. "Mistress Yadla, her name is."

Skywalker nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, there was a Mistress Yaddle in the Jedi Order some years before my birth, but she died before my time."

Yeda voiced his thoughts. "Come here only to tell me these things, you have not."

The figure nodded again. "You are perceptive, Master Yeda." Skywalker paused before launching in. "In our time, we have discovered that a person's connection to the Force is determined by the number of microscopic organisms known as midi-chlorians in that person's bloodstream." He paused. "You understand that everything that we discuss must remain between us, Master Yeda."

Yeda nodded.

Skywalker continued. "We have also recently discovered evidence that these midi-chlorians mutate, causing the connection of their hosts with the Force to grow stronger, every 20,000 years." He paused for effect. "Your's is one of these time periods.

"For some reason, in these time periods the Dark Side of the Force initially becomes ascendant, more powerful than the Light Side. We suspect it is due to the capricious nature of the Dark Side. Have you seen evidence of this in your time, Master Yeda?"

The Jedi Grandmaster did not have to think long, but only nodded, then lifted his gimli stick, indicating the apparition should continue.

"My master told me that I needed to come before you, to prepare you for the period of strife that is about to befall you, Master Yeda. Great battles are coming, and if the Jedi order is to survive, you need the knowledge I am about to give you.

"I am to impart to you a technique known as 'battle meditation'. This will allow you, through meditation in the Force, to strengthen the morale and resolve of those on your side, while causing despair and discord among your enemies. Are you prepared to receive this knowledge, Master Yeda? I cannot maintain my connection with your time period much longer." As if responding to this statement, Skywalker's glowing image flickered somewhat.

Yeda nodded, and sat back on his meditation mat. "Begin, you may."

Fifty-One:

The Jedi turncoat stood in the alcove in the rough-hewn, dimly lit tunnel deep beneath the Alpha City Skyport, waiting for his prey. A shipment of high-quality Adegan crystals, guarded by at least two Jedi and an indeterminate number of Republic Security would be passing through these tunnels, and Revenant had told the turncoat in no uncertain terms that these crystals were critical to the continued effectiveness of the Bogans. With these crystals, they could arm themselves, and the lesser Force-sensitives among their forces, to the hilt with lightsabers.

The turncoat was to have been one of these Jedi guarding the shipment. Alone in his room, he drank the vile potion Revenant had given him, heaving his innards into his simple washbasin within moments of ingesting the viscous syrup. Moments later, as he lay in his bed moaning and clutching his abdomen, that self-righteous fool, Grandmaster Yeda, had come to his room and determined he was indeed too ill to serve guard duty. He had laughed inwardly, even as his insides threatened to heave again, as the small Grandmaster had almost tenderly stroked his glistening forehead and pulled up his blanket.

As soon as Master Yeda had left his room, the turncoat had hurridly ingested the second potion, gasping gratefully as the powerful waves of nausea abated. After securing the lightsaber and powerpack hidden behind a panel in a bookshelf in his room, he then snuck out of the Jedi Temple, avoiding any Jedi Masters and nonchalantly greeting the guards at the exit, and took fast public transport to Alpha City. There he was welcomed into a domicile belonging to an eco-terrorist sympathizer that had a secret trapdoor that led down to this passageway under the mighty skyscrapers that held the busy Skyport aloft.

How had he come to this point? What was the journey that a Jedi walked from being a proponent of the Light Side of the Force to becoming a Bogan? For the Jedi turncoat it was surprisingly quick and fully logical.

As a Jedi padawan, he had always felt constrained by the strict nature of the Jedi's use of the Force. In his walks in the 'Lungs of Coruscant', he could feel the dark pulsing power of nature itself; he could feel it in every tree he rested against, every animal that cried above his head in the forest canopy, every step he took on the soft loam, every drink of water that gratefully passed his lips from a stream or pond often shared with some wild beast. He longed to connect more fully with every aspect of the Force. With the Jedi, he felt somehow shut off from some deeper meaning.

And then, as the explosion of immigrants threatened the very existence of his beloved Forest, the 'Lungs of Coruscant', it was only natural that he should begin to attend meetings to organize formal protest against the Galactic Confederation, as well as Coruscant's Senate, that threatened this vital natural resource.

It was there that he met his first Bogan. And it was not what he expected, what he had been indoctrinated to expect. The man was surprisingly kind, if a bit intense, and they soon started to meet and discuss the nature of the Force, the Jedi, and the turncoat's role in all of this.

After several months, he was told by the Bogan that there was someone he had to meet. Someone very powerful in the usage of the Force who would be his guide to a deeper understanding of the Force and it's usage in a greater bond with nature and pure natural elements.

He was introduced to Revenant. The man's physical appearance terrified him, but he pushed aside his reservations and gratefully sat at the Bogan leader's foot and learned all he had to teach him. He learned that the Jedi were indeed denying him full knowledge of the nature of the Force. And he learned that precious resources such as the 'Lungs of Coruscant' had to be defended even if it meant the shedding of blood.

He had embraced this view wholeheartedly.

Suddenly the Jedi turncoat was snapped out of his reverie. Someone was coming. He quickly plugged in his lightsaber to its powerpack, but abstained from thumbing on its blade for the moment.

It was indeed the Jedi and the shipment. As they turned the corner, he could see six men guarding a gilded sarcophagus about the size for a short man. Two Jedi, Bran and Alexis, walked the point, blades sheathed on their backs, as four Republic security guards flanked the sarcophagus, carrying it by handles attached to the sides. The two guards in the front had spears attached to their backs, while it appeared the guards in the rear had archaic slug-throwers slung over their shoulders. The turncoat smiled at how pathetically behind the Republic was in its arms race with the Bogan and eco-terrorist forces.

The Jedi turncoat stepped out of the alcove and thumbed on his lightsaber, holding the glowing golden blade at a shoulder-high ready position as the group approached.

The surprised expressions on the two Jedi guardians' faces were priceless. The Jedi turncoat smiled a feral smile.

Finally Alexis spoke. "Eric? What are you doing here?" The fools did think to draw their blades as Eric Stormhammer advanced wordlessly.

Master An-Yen Shim swept into the meeting room in the Jedi Temple, a concerned expression on his face. He saw Grandmaster Yeda and Lan Hewan deep in conversation.

"Master Yeda, a moment."

Lan stepped back to the side of the door as the two Jedi Masters spoke quietly.

"We have ensured Chancellor Ulmas of the safety of the shipment from Tython," spoke Shim. "I just wanted to ensure all measures are being taken. I understand Eric and Bran are assisting in guarding the case?"

Yeda frowned. "No, sick is Eric. Gone with Bran, has Alexis."

A premonition struck Master Shim that he did not need the Force to feel. He spun to face Lan, who snapped to attention. "Lan, go and check Eric's quarters!"

As Lan ran out of the room, Shim turned back to Yeda. "Something is not right here."

Yeda nodded, alarm on his face. "Feel it, I do. A fool, I believe I have been."

Fifty-Two:

As Bran and Alexis advanced cautiously on Eric, the Bogan let all of the darkness that Revenant had so meticulously cultivated in him unfurl like a black river, giving him strength and speed as it surged through him. There was now no doubt in the two Jedis' minds that Eric was their enemy, and they launched forwards, Bran to Eric's right and Alexis to his left, swinging at him from two sides. A wise strategy against someone wielding a lightsaber, no doubt concocted by Master Yo; the wielder of the lightsaber would only be able to disarm one of the sword-bearers.

But Eric was prepared. As the blades cut through the air, he dropped into a deep split, pointing the lightsaber above him. The two Jedi could not stop the momentum of their attacks, and their mighty swords were reduced to useless scrap as they swung through the lightsaber's blade.

Eric instantly swung his back leg around and swept Bran to the ground, leaping to his feet in one smooth motion and impaling the prone Jedi. He swung his lightsaber in a tight arc to the left as he spun to face Alexis, cutting in half the spear one of the Republic guards had no doubt tossed to him. A quick jab step, and Alexis was similarly impaled, a look of surprise on his face.

The Bogan leapt on top of the sarcophagus, cutting the stunned guard to his left deeply across the chest, killing him instantly, and as Eric's dark cloak bloomed around him, the other spear-bearer could not make out where Eric's body was in the darkness. He jabbed uncertainly, poking a hole in Eric's cloak; a quick swipe of the lightsaber and the bewildered guard was beheaded.

Eric could sense the fingers of the last two guards squeezing the triggers of their slug-throwers, and without a moment to spare dove between them as the slugs whistled past his feet. He rolled to his feet and spun to his right, swinging his blade in a wide arc behind him, his momentum as he spun allowing him to see the two bodies of the guards neatly cut in half at the waist.

And then there was silence.

The blade of the lightsaber flickered and died, and the surge of dark energy in Eric drained away. In the dim light of the corridor, he saw his handiwork: the victim of "Sai cha", or beheading; the two riflemen cut in half by "Sai tok", a wound considered butchery and desecration of the human body by the Jedi. He saw the dead bodies of the two Jedi that, while they perhaps had not considered him a close friend, certainly had trusted him as a fellow Jedi. And now they were all dead, and for some reason he couldn't muster the necessary hate to feel good about it.

Suddenly a wave of nausea overtook him, perhaps the remnant of the potion he had drunk earlier, and he clutched the side of the sarcophagus as he retched miserably on the dusty floor.

Wiping his mouth, Eric tried to clear his head by shaking it, to no avail, and resignedly unplugged and clipped his lightsaber to his belt and heaved open the sarcophagus.

Expecting to find a cache of Adegan crystals, he saw instead a strange oval case of grey metal, about a meter long, with some sort of cylinder screwed into one nose that appeared to be the arming device of a bomb. That's what it was, Eric realized. A small, tactical nuclear weapon. He had heard in the news reports that the Republic government was undertaking the storage and disarmament of nukes that had never been used on the fields of Tython for fear of incinerating that planet's intensely oxygen-rich atmosphere. Eric had had no idea the Jedi were assisting in this process.

His heart sunk as he pondered what Revenant might be planning to do with this device. I didn't sign up for this, he thought rather belatedly.

But he did his duty to the Bogans, and glumly lifted the heavy device out of the sarcophagus and slid it into the satchel he had brought, that lay with a map and a torch that he now lit. Examining the map, he left the scene of destruction behind as he navigated his way out of the tunnels under the skyport and to the roof of an abandoned warehouse. There waited a jumper, and he swung himself in, one leg dangling over the edge of the jumper as it took off and headed back towards the depths of the 'Lungs of Coruscant', where the fiendish Revenant was no doubt eagerly awaiting his prize. In the dimming light he stared grimly at the vestiges of the destroyed Forest below him.

Fifty-Three:

"Why didn't you tell me what was in that shipment, Master Revenant?" asked Eric, suppressing the seething anger Revenant could surely feel in the Force anyway. The Bogan leader was no doubt savoring Eric's anger, for turmoil was to him like a fine wine. The two Bogan were meeting privately in a tent in the eco-terrorist camp deep in the 'Lungs of Coruscant'.

"What exactly is the problem?" Revenant asked simply.

This took Eric by surprise. He was expecting anger in return, a reprimand, a rebuke.

Before Eric could muster a response, Revenant continued. "You see, my dear Eric, now is the time that we must strike a decisive blow against the Jedi and the Republic, don't you see? Yes, it appears we have the upper hand, for now, in weaponry, in man-power. But the resources of our enemies are great. The Jedi already have a lightsaber, with more to come, I'm sure. Soon, as procurement bills pass through that pile of sludge known as the Senate, the Republic will arm themselves to the teeth to face us. They will draft more men. And then the tide will have turned towards our cause forever."

"But you lied to me," Eric muttered. He didn't want Revenant to make sense, but somehow he was.

"My young apprentice, I sense the ambivalence in you. I made a decision. I needed you focused on your mission. Yes, ideally, I could have told you what you were killing all of those men to bring to me, but I couldn't risk confusing your delicate sensibilities. LOOK AT ME!" he roared, and his sudden, terrible anger terrified and cowed Eric. Once he was satisfied he had the young Bogan's attention, Revenant continued in that maddeningly calm hiss. "I sense you are teetering on the balance, young Stormhammer.

"I need to be sure I can count on you in the battle ahead. I have entrusted you with perhaps the most important mission of this war to date, to serve as a double agent, to move among our enemy, the Jedi.

"I sense that your identity has now been discovered. You are with us forever more, there IS no going back, do you understand?"

"Yes, but what are you going to do with…"

"All will be revealed very soon, Eric. I am about to call our forces to attention, to divulge my plans for this weapon you have brought me. You will know then, along with everyone else, what will transpire, how we will bring our enemies to their knees. Do you care about our cause, Eric?"

"Yes," sighed the young turncoat.

"Then you will see our glory unfurled very soon as we strike at the heart of the Republic and the Jedi. A nuclear weapon is no different from any other bomb our eco-terrorist friends have set off in Coruscant, Eric, the scale is simply different."

"Yes sir," was all Eric could say.

"I am done coddling you, Eric," Revenant hissed wearily. "I will leave you here and you will decide whose side you are on. But choose carefully. You cannot go back to the Jedi, and if you turn your back on me as well, there will be nowhere far enough you can run from my wrath, do you understand?"

The fact that this pronouncement was delivered in a chillingly calm voice terrified Eric to the core.

"You don't have to worry about me, Master," Eric pronounced, with more decisiveness than he felt, his back straight.

"Very good, very good. Our forces shall assemble within the hour. Make sure you are prepared to stand by my side."

With that, Revenant swept out of the dark tent, leaving Eric Stormhammer to ponder his feelings in an agony of confusion.

Fifty-Four:

That evening there was a great feast in the clearing that served as a base for the eco-terrorists, Bogans and native fighters. Within the perimeter of tents, two long tables cut from nearby timber were set up, with folding tent chairs and tree stumps pulled up as seats. Between the tables were three pits filled with glow-stones, which cooked the Akash-meat without attracting the attention that smoke would have brought.

At the head of the tables, Revenant stood, flanked by Rain Or, Eric Stormhammer and Ranger on one side, and Bogans Lsi-hsi, Cormet and Uni-Dent on the other. Revenant waited a moment, then raised a bound hand to still the murmuring from the tables.

"Fellow fighters, a great moment has come for our cause. Before we begin our much-deserved feast, I wish to tell you of my plans for the decimation of the Republic and the Jedi," said Revenant, his voice dripping with malice.

"A great weapon has come into my possession, thanks to the efforts of my lieutenant, Eric Stormhammer," Revenant said with pride, not looking towards Eric.

Eric hid the dismay he was feeling, the dismay that would be all too noticeable to a powerful Bogan such as Revenant, by hiding his feelings deep within a dim room he pictured residing in the Dark Side of the Force. He had used this technique, taught to him by none other than Revenant, to move innocuously among the Jedi, and he used it now to preserve his life.

"This weapon," continued Revenant in a surprisingly booming voice, "is a tactical nuclear weapon, intercepted on its way from Tython to the treacherous Republic. This weapon tilts the scales in our favor, and it could not come at a better time. We have the Republic on its heels. We are better armed!" A lusty cheer broke from the fighters at the tables. "We are better skilled fighters!" Another cheer. Eric shifted uncomfortably.

"We have the cleverness needed to defeat our enemy.

"What is my plan? I will outline it now for you, and then the feast will commence.

"The task of hiding the weapon in the Senate building will fall to Uni-Dent and Rain Or. Uni-Dent will use his powers of deception and mental manipulation to purchase a way into the halls within the Senate, where the weapon will be concealed and armed.

"Meanwhile, two platoons of fighters will move with these heroes up the valley pass that connects the Forest to the wildlife preserve to the South of the Jedi Temple. Any observation posts along the pass will be dealt with stealthily and lethally.

"These two platoons will serve to divert the Jedi long enough for Uni-Dent and Rain Or to complete their task and escape. One task group will be led by myself, Eric and Ranger." Where I can keep an eye on them, thought Revenant grimly, no longer trusting his young charges. "This task group will fight a delaying tactic from the grove to the East, or back side, of the Temple.

"The second task group, led by Lsi-hsi and Cormet, will attack from the West, or front side.

"Uni-Dent and Rain Or will set the timer on the weapon with enough time for all of our forces to dissolve deeply back into the Forest before it detonates. The majority of the damage will be done to the Senate building and Jedi Temple. The Forest should avoid much harm." From the corner of Eric's eye, Ranger stiffened noticeably. "Our enemies shall be decimated!" Revenant raised his fist in the air as the fighters, eco-terrorist and native alike, cheered lustily.

As the noise subsided, one fighter spoke what was on many of the minds of the lovers of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. "Isn't there chance of damage, even just by radiation, to the Forest?"

Revenant did not deign to look at the fighter who had interrupted him, but merely made a subtle waving motion with his hand. On cue, the fighter fell silent as his eyes glazed and turned inward, gazing in mute horror at some private hell. His compatriots discretely looked away and, satisfied, Revenant continued.

"For some of you chosen for this task, this might be your last action. I can't guarantee that every one of you will survive an all-out battle with the Jedi at their Temple. But I can assure you," here Revenant lowered his voice, and all leaned forwards to hear, "we will succeed.

"Now let us eat!" There was another great cheer, and the fighters fell busily to the task of eating. Revenant nodded to Uni-Dent and Or, who followed him into the main tent to finalize their plans.

Eric saw Ranger, head bowed, walk to his tent at the far side of the clearing, and moved discretely to catch up with him.

"Ranger, a moment?" whispered Eric. Ranger nodded, and the two Bogan ducked into the tent.

Fifty-Five:

Lan sat at the foot of his ancient master, Grandmaster Yeda, in a quiet meditation room in the Jedi Temple. His brow still glowed with sweat from the intensive lightsaber practice session he had just completed with Master Yo. Now that brow was creased with the agony of guilt.

"I should have been with that shipment, Master, I should have been with Alexis and Bran. I have a lightsaber. I'm more than a match for Eric," he despaired. Although the bodies of the two Jedi had not yet been found, it was accepted that Eric's disappearance, coupled with the loss of communication with the shipment meant the worst.

"Killed Eric, you would have?" questioned Yeda. "Changed the course of events? Been a hero?

"Thinking only of yourself, you are, not the greater wisdom of the Force. When to the Force we come with self-obsession, anger, only pain we receive.

"Killed Eric, you would have. Received what you wanted, you would have. When we get what we want, good we feel..Attached, we become. Then, changes the situation does. Angry, we become..To the Dark Side, does this path lead." Yeda closed his eyes and lifted his chin, as if sniffing the air for Lan's aura in the Force.

"Are we talking about me and Eric or me and Shara, Master?" asked Lan with some frustration.

"Tell me, you shall. Do I speak of you and Shara?"

Lan bit back a retort born of his frustration and instead steepled his fingers and touched his forehead to them, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I don't know, Master. Things are happening so quickly these days."

"Yes, speedy we are when to our basic goodness, we do not listen. Meditate on this, we shall."

The two Jedi had barely settled into their meditation postures when they were disturbed by the pealing of a huge gong.

"The alert, Master Yeda!" Lan gasped as he leapt to his feet and ran to his pack, and his lightsaber.

Yeda merely opened his eyes and reached for his gimli stick, reaching out and tapping Lan on his shin with it. "Slow down, you must, young Jedi. To you, let the situation come, rather than running into the teeth of the dragon, Lan. Observe the situation. Then, act." The Jedi Grandmaster uncurled smoothly to his feet, belying his great age. "Go to the great hall, we shall."

The Great Hall was a bit of a misnomer. The convocation of all the Jedi in the Temple assembled in what was basically a glorified dining hall, with a high steepled ceiling, stone walls and rows of tables and benches. Jedi Masters Yo and Shim, joined by nine Senate guards in bronzium breastplates and helms bearing sword and bow, stood in the milling throng of Jedi and padawans clutching younglings as the last of the Jedi not guarding the Temple entrances filed in. Lan and Yeda pushed their way through the crowd to stand with the two Jedi Masters and the guards.

"Silence!" boomed Yo, and the babble of voices stilled to less than a whisper.

An-Yen Shim nodded at Master Yo and then turned to the crowd and spoke. "But a few moments ago, I was brought a warning by the Captain of the Senate guards, Jal Thrith." Here Shim inclined his head at the tallest of the armored men. Yeda recognized him from when he and his men had rounded up the protestors led by their friend Aleeas Isme. But now, Yeda suspected, he was to be an ally.

Thrith cleared his throat and spoke in an authoritarian voice. "In the last half hour, we've had reports - from two observation posts in the wooded vale connecting the wildlife preserve to your south and the 'Lungs of Coruscant' - of movement of a heavily armed force headed North. Before communications were cut off, they confirmed eco-terrorists and combatants bearing swords of light. We could only suspect an attack aimed at our friends here in the Jedi Temple. Because of your service to the Republic, I was able to muster these eight men to offer any aid we can give you in your defense. We've dispatched Coruscant police for crowd control in the main plaza, but we suspect an attack from the groves surrounding this structure."

Lan craned his neck to see the remaining Jedi Masters file in as Shim spoke again. "Jedi Guardians and all now hear me! We shall divide into two forces to join the guards at the Western and Eastern entrances to the Temple. As we know our Temple is still under construction, and defensive fortifications are not complete. But with the Force, we shall prevail."

Shim raised a scroll to eye level. "Albion and Rancere guard the Western entrance. Jal Thrith shall take four of his men, accompanied by Grandmaster Yeda, Miria, Jan, and Master Yo. May the Force be with you." That group hurried off, led by a speedy Yeda hobbling along without the aid of his gimli stick.

Shim turned to those left. "Arames and Tranis guard the Eastern entrance. Mistress Yadla shall take Alessandra, Lan, Mikael and the remaining four Senate guards. I shall guard the infirmary."

Lan sidled up to Mikael and growled under his breath, "I can trust you?"

"Yes," Mikael muttered fiercely.

"Okay." Lan turned to hear the rest of what Shim had to say.

"Masters Ald and Bil shall stay here with all other Jedi, the padawans and the younglings. You will barricade all entrances to this hall and make a final stand if you must. May the Force be with you."

Lan cast a glance at the terrified faces of the younger padawans and younglings, giving a worried thought to his friend Bernian still in the infirmary, then swept out of the hall with Mistress Yadla and the rest as they headed for the Eastern entrance. The battle for the Jedi Temple had begun.

The group lead by Grandmaster Yeda, Master Yo and Jal Thrith stopped in an armory, pulling pikes and compound bows off of racks and loading up on quivers of arrows with hawkbat feathers. They then headed down a hall headed straight for the Western, or front, entrance. Hearing RPW fire popping ahead, they split into two groups at a fork, and came to the entrance from two side passageways.

Yeda's heart sunk as he saw the figure of Rancere, a young Tallian he had rescued from the mean streets of Galactic City, lying prone with an RPW entry wound in his forehead. Albion stood back from the entrance, shielded in the side passageway, and nodded at the newcomers.

In the space between the Jedi Temple and the grove where the shadows of eco-terrorists, natives and Bogans flitted lay the bodies of two civilians, as well as some scattered bags and purses dropped by citizens in their haste to escape, and a lone shoe. To the North, Coruscant police held back a milling, curious crowd from the danger zone. The steady popping of RPW fire, as well as the random arrow, kept the Jedi and Senate guards from taking more than cursory glances at the grove.

Jan, a bald, stocky newcomer from Tython, stepped out to fire an arrow at the grove, and was rewarded with an RPW round to the shoulder. He cried in pain, falling back from the entrance grasping at the wound and dropping his bow. One of the Senate guards saw to his injury as Yo held up a palm with a stern expression, indicating that no one else should risk exposure.

"What are we going to do, Masters?" shouted Albion. In response, Grandmaster Yeda put down his gimli stick and dropped into a cross-legged, meditative pose. As the other Jedi and guards stared incredulously, he placed his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. Yo's glare dared anyone to speak.

Finally Thrith, clutching a pike in sweating hands, pushed his helmet up on his forehead and listened intently. "You hear that?"

Albion nodded. "They've stopped firing!"

Yo and two Senate guards stepped out into the opening and launched two salvos of arrows at the grove, and were rewarded with several cries as three of their arrows struck home. They were forced back by RPW fire, but the nature of the return fire was more sporadic than before.

"We can't rush the grove, Master Jedi," hissed Thrith. "We can take them out a few at a time, but we're basically at a stalemate."

The moments seemed to stretch into eternity. The emboldened Jedi and Senate guards intermittently stepped out to fire arrows at the dark grove, occasionally striking home, but Thrith was correct: there was no opportunity to rush the grove and score a clear victory as the enemy combatants peppered the Temple entrance with arrows and slugs.

Suddenly Miria, daring a glance, shouted "look!"

The other fighters peered out to see a large golden figure whirling through the grove, as shrieks and blood-curdling cries reached their ears from the trees. Yeda's eyes flew open. "Bos."

The Jedi Grandmaster's eyes closed again, and Master Yo took the initiative. "Let's go, this could be our only chance."

Albion, Miria, Master Yo and the Senate guards threw bows over their shoulders and, gripping pikes in their hands, charged out into the clearing between the temple and their opponents. They fell on the cringing eco-terrorists and natives, impaling them on pikes, then jumped into the grove with drawn blades, finishing off the rest of the enemy. Bos of the house of Faz was a whirlwind of fury, his twin blades inflicting terrible wounds on the bewildered eco-terrorists that attempted to surround him. Yo could spot the bodies of at least two dead Bogans, judging by their dark, bloodied cloaks.

As soon as it had started, the battle was over. A few natives escaped to the South, and Yo put his hand on Miria's shoulder as she aimed a bolt at the back of one of them. "Let him go, Miria." After a tense moment she relaxed her shoulders and lowered the bow.

Grandmaster Yeda came walking across the plaza and clambered over a bush to meet Master Yo and Bos. "You came," Yeda said simply. He was visibly fatigued.

"Indeed, Grandmaster," Bos said simply.

"So there was no uprising?" asked Yo.

"Apparently not. As soon as I knew all was well in my father's lands, I requisitioned a ship back to Coruscant. As I flew down from the spaceport, I sensed a disturbance in the Force, coming from the general direction of the Temple. When I passed over the wooded vale, I sensed the Bogans moving North and I ditched my plane. I ejected over the vale, and tracked them to this grove.

"We must hurry. They are attacking the other side of the Temple as well."

"Yes," agreed Yeda. "A more difficult battle, that shall be. Stay here, Albion shall." Albion nodded.

"The rest of you, with us," shouted Yo.

The Jedi and Senate guards plunged back into the Temple, heading back to the other entrance after Yo had checked on Jan's injury and ordered him to the infirmary.

Fifty-Six:

Lan and Mikael peered across the rear entrance to the Jedi Temple at the two Jedi that had been guarding the Eastern portal and were now taking shelter in the other access passageway. Tranis was pressing a blood-soaked cloth, a piece cut from his cloak from the looks of it, to the neck of Arames, who was deathly pale and not responsive. The four Senate guards, who had forked off to that side along with Alessandra, were milling around, not sure what to do.

Mikael grabbed Lan's shoulder and whispered urgently in his ear. "Can you get me across this entrance?"

As if in response to his question, the RPW fire grew more insistent, with slugs popping off of the sides of the Temple and floor of the entrance with alarming regularity. Arrows sang through the air and flew down into the main Temple passageway whenever a defender presented the merest inch of a target to the natives in the grove.

"Are you crazy? Why?" hissed Lan.

"I have trained with Master Bal the healer. I was to replace him one day. I'm the only one who can help Arames now," answered Mikael.

Lan looked at Mistress Yadla, who nodded solemnly.

"Okay, when I give the signal," said Lan. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, shutting out all of the chaos around him and drawing the Force closely to himself. When he felt the surge of light energy flow through him, he slowly opened his eyes, and saw once again the world as a lattice-work of green threads, the RPW rounds and arrows tracking slowly across this field, trailing thin lines of green.

"Now," he said, activating his lightsaber. With Lan shielding the healer, the two Jedi ran crouched across the entrance, Lan striking down with preternatural speed the projectiles that had been coming with ferocious intensity. It was as if they were suspended in slow motion.

They made it to the other side, and Lan doubled over in exhaustion, the projectiles still suspended behind him resuming their natural, deadly velocity.

Mikael kneeled and gently pushed Tranis to the side, pulling a thick gauze pad from a side pouch. Counting to three, he swapped it for the piece of cloth Tranis had been using, pressing it to the neck of Arames as he closed his eyes and held his free hand - palm down - an inch above the wound. Arames moaned.

"Hold still, brother Jedi, you have lost much blood. But you will live," Mikael said in the most soothing tone possible under the circumstances.

Lan shook his head. "I can't believe we ever thought you were the Bogan," he mused.

Suddenly the RPW fire stopped, and a booming, sepulchral voice called from the grove. "Lan Hewan," it said simply, chilling Lan to the bone. He leaned against the outer wall and peered carefully outside. What he saw filled him with terror.

A Bogan swathed from head to toe in black except for a pair of glowing red embers where his eyes should have been – the Bogan last met on Corellia - was holding Shara before him, a glowing gold lightsaber blade to her throat. Her eyes pleaded with Lan. She was to return from Alderaan today!

"I believe I have something you want, Lan Hewan," the voice continued in mocking tones. "Surrender yourself and your wife shall live." In response Shara squirmed in the Bogan's grasp, but he gripped her tighter and grazed her throat with the blade, causing her to cry out as thin wisps of smoke rose from her flesh.

Lan was seized with a panic, and looked across the opening to Mistress Yadla, who mouthed No to him. Gripping his lightsaber haft, he whipped his gaze back to the scene in front of the grove. He had to make a decision.

"Too late, Jedi," laughed the Bogan, and the blade cut the throat of Lan's beloved. Her lifeless body dropped to the ground.

"NOOOO!" roared Lan as he was seized with a surge of the blackest rage, and, ignoring the protests of Mistress Yadla, he thumbed his lightsaber to life and launched himself into the clearing between the Temple and the grove. In response, the Bogan assumed a fighting stance, holding his blade before him in the Gilyan fighting style.

Lan fell on the Bogan propelled by a surge of blackest energy, striking to his head and neck, then swinging the blade and striking in uppercuts to both sides of his opponent. The Bogan laughed and casually turned aside each strike, then lunged forwards and impaled Lan on its blade of light.

Lan's eyes grew wide with surprise as he looked down at the hilt of the weapon that was buried all the way through his midsection, and dropped his own lightsaber, which sputtered and died as it clattered on the pavement of the plaza. He dropped to his knees, then fell forwards, prone on the ground, filled with the most utter of despair.

As his abdomen burned, the edges of his vision grew black, the blackness moving inwards to obliviate all that he could see. He struggled to keep his eyes open, when he heard the gentle voice of Mistress Yadla in his head. Lan, keep to the light. Shara is not dead.

With these soothing words that Lan somehow knew to be true, a glow of brightest light began to fill his rapidly dimming vision, and he felt himself rise and walk towards the light. Before him he saw the most surprising sight: it was Shara herself, more beautiful than even he thought possible, in a gown of shining whiteness. I love you, Lan, she mouthed, and extended a hand to him. He took her hand gratefully, moving forwards, and then all was whiteness; all was light.

Fifty-Seven:

Grandmaster Yeda and the contingent of defenders from the Western entrance arrived at the rear of the Jedi Temple, via the Northern side passageway, to find Mistress Yadla's forces pinned down by heavy RPW fire. Yadla had only to look at Yeda's sorrowful expression to know that he had felt his former padawan Lan Hewan's death in the Force. She nodded at him, lids heavy, and he set his face in grim determination.

"Attempt battle meditation again, I shall. Turn the tide of this battle quickly, we must," he declared, promptly seating himself in a meditative position, shielded by the side passage wall, and closing his eyes.

Yadla turned her attention back to the grove across the narrow plaza from where the withering fire was issuing. She whispered over her shoulder to Master Yo, "How did you vanquish your foes on the Western side?"

He glanced at Lord Bos, who was impassively stealing glances from the protective cover of the side passage wall. "We had assistance from the rear of the enemy's position," he said.

"Then let us hope for similar good fortune now," she replied.

Almost as if on cue, the RPW fire grew suddenly sporadic as a hue rose up from the grove. Yadla ventured a glance. "By the Force," she gasped.

Through the trees they could see the glowing golden blade of a lightsaber slashing through the enemy lines, disrupting their organization.

"Now!" shouted Master Yo, and the Jedi and Senate guards launched themselves across the plaza, archers firing bolts guided unerringly by the confidence born of Grandmaster Yeda's battle meditation.

Then, as the Temple defenders were halfway across the plaza, the terrifying figure of the Master Bogan Revenant stepped out into the opening again, swathed in black cloth, hands and eyes burning with unnatural fire. The Jedi and Senate guards hesitated for a moment, giving the Bogan time to act. He raised his hands, and a huge surge of dark Force energy, taking the form of blazing red flames, rolled from him towards the exposed defenders.

Instantaneously, Mistress Yadla spun towards the Bogan and raised her hands, erecting a concave shield of Force energy, reflecting the flames back at him. But he was strong in the Force, and his flames continued to roll out.

The golden blade of the unknown assailant behind the enemy lines struck the Bogan in the back.

A banshee screech issued from his hidden mouth, and all of the combatants, Republic forces and eco-terrorists alike, had to clutch their hands to their ears to block the painful, horrible sound. Then the flames that Yadla was reflecting on him reached him and consumed him, and he exploded into a tower of flame, his screams reaching a head-splitting crescendo and then dying away as nothing was left of his figure but scraps of black cloth twisting in the wind.

Their hesitation cost the defenders, as two of the Senate guards and Jedi Guardian Miria were struck down by enemy RPW fire and arrows.

"Come on!" shouted Yo as Yadla dropped back to tend to the wounded. The Jedi and Senate guards leaped over the first bushes and saplings of the Eastern grove, piercing eco-terrorists and natives alike with pikes and slashing with Force-hardened blades.

Now they could see who their benefactor was, as Eric Stormhammer waded back towards the Jedi's position, effectively catching the eco-terrorist and native forces between himself and the Jedi and Senate guards. Within moments the enemy forces either lay dead or kneeled in surrender. Yo caught sight of the figure of a Bogan disappearing to the South, his lightsaber discarded behind him as he sped with Force-assisted speed. Grimly, Master Yo notched an arrow to his bow and raised it, when Eric stepped in front of him.

"Let him go!" shouted Eric. "I gave him my word."

"We all know what your word is good for, Stormhammer," scowled Yo, but it was now too late to catch the Bogan, who had almost magically melted into the trees.

"I know…" began Eric, when a piercing whine issued from the power pack of his deactivated lightsaber. Hurriedly he unclipped the pack from his belt and threw the lightsaber assemblage towards an unoccupied area of the grove as Master Yo stepped back. Almost immediately, the lightsaber and power pack exploded in a flash of light, vaporizing several nearby trees and leaving behind burned and charred ground.

Shaken, Eric turned to Master Yo and proffered his hands. Captain Thrith stepped forward and grabbed Eric brusquely, dragging him away to have his hands bound by another Senate guard.

Master Yo looked around wearily. Additional Senate guards and irregular Coruscant police were arriving to round up the prisoners, while police continued to restrain an ever-growing crowd of civilians to the North. He looked back at the narrow plaza and Temple walls pock-marked with RPW fire, and saw Alessandra helping one injured guard into the Temple to the infirmary while another Senate guard kneeled over his dead comrade. Grandmaster Yeda stood up heavily from the side of Lan Hewan's body, turning it over to the ministrations of Master Shim, who had emerged with two padawans. Yo saw Mistress Yadla approaching as Mikael tended to Miria, who seemed to be moving.

"Your protégé archer will live," said Yadla, following Master Yo's gaze towards Miria. "Even now Mikael takes her to Master Bal in the infirmary."

Grandmaster Yeda joined them. "Grandmaster?" asked Yo simply.

"Time to mourn, there shall be later. Much work, I sense we still have," Yeda replied.

Yo scratched his chin, appraising the two diminutive Jedi Masters. "This action made no sense," he mused. "The best they could have hoped for was a stalemate. It's as if…" He snapped his fingers. "They were stalling for time!" He looked around for Eric as Yeda nodded in agreement.

At that moment, Captain Thrith strode over to the Jedi Masters. "I'm going to see to my man," he said, eyeing the dead Senate guard. He jerked his thumb in the direction of where Eric Stormhammer was being detained. "The Bogan wants to talk to you."

Fifty-Eight:

Jedi Masters Yeda, Yadla and Yo picked their way to where Eric Stormhammer was being held by two Senate guards that were flanking him and nervously holding on to his arms. Yeda nodded to the guards and they were left alone with the turncoat.

"Serious, your actions were," began Yeda as Eric nodded numbly. "Protect you from justice, we cannot. A matter for Republic courts, your actions have become."

Eric spoke up hotly. "I have some information that I want to give you, Masters, information that can save the Senate and save the Jedi Order. But I want immunity."

"Perhaps you didn't hear Grandmaster Yeda, Eric," said Yo. "You've most likely killed Senate guards as well as Jedi. You've been an accomplice," and here he lowered his voice, "in the theft of a nuclear weapon. We can't help you."

Yeda raised a three-fingered hand. "Perhaps, hear we should, what Eric has to say."

Eric shook his head. "Not until I get some kind of promise that I won't be turned over to the courts. Then I shall put myself at your mercy."

"Mercy," spat Yo vehemently.

Yeda cleared his throat. "Agreed. To the Jedi Council, present your case in your name, I shall. Speak now, you will."

Master Yo bit his tongue and placed his large hands behind his back, and Eric nodded and began speaking.

"This attack on the Jedi Temple was just a diversion."

Master Yo nodded.

Eric continued. "As we speak, the leader of the eco-terrorists, Rain Or, and Uni-Dent are penetrating the Senate building and planting the nuclear weapon. You have about an hour."

All three Jedi Masters rocked back on their heels. Grandmaster Yeda regained his composure. "Destroy both the Senate and the Jedi Temple, such a weapon shall. But understand, I do not, why the eco-terrorists wish to plant a weapon that would threaten the Forest."

"That's part of the reason I decided to switch sides, to betray the Bogan," he said painfully. "I knew I couldn't be a part of such whole-scale destruction. Revenant never cared about the 'Lungs'. He just wanted to kill the Jedi."

"And perhaps, truly evil you never were," said Yeda. The Grandmaster nodded sagely as he thought for a moment, seeking guidance in the Force. Then he spoke, having decided on a course of action.

"Stay here, you shall. Speak with Captain Thrith we must."

The three Jedi Masters left Eric with the Senate guards and walked across the plaza to where Captain Thrith was helping his dead man onto a stretcher brought by irregular police.

"Captain Thrith, a moment," spoke Yeda.

Thrith turned to the Jedi Masters with pain in his eyes. "Yes?"

Grandmaster Yeda quickly explained the situation to the Captain of the Senate guard, and his eyes grew wide with alarm.

"We've had a bomb disposal expert on standby ever since the…weapon…went missing. I just never thought we'd have to use him." He turned and shouted to one of his men, who left sprinting towards the Northern plaza.

"Join the bomb expert, you shall, Yadla," said Yeda. "Contact the Dorian, Jedius, I shall. Stand by, to wait for my call, you must."

Mistress Yadla nodded, and Yeda approached the Captain of the Senate guards. "Captain Thrith, two of your men, and Eric Stormhammer, I require. A fast transport to Alpha City, I also require."

"You'll have it, Master Jedi." Captain Thrith turned and whistled to one of his men, as Yeda addressed Master Yo and Mistress Yadla.

"Very little time, we now have."

Fifty-Nine:

All was silent in the passages underneath the Senate building, now that it had been evacuated. Rain Or and Uni-Dent peered at their map in the flickering light of a torch in a sconce on the wall at a T-intersection.

"I think we go this way," said Uni-Dent, and Or nodded. Their goal was a storage closet that would make the weapon both difficult to find and cause the maximum damage to the structure above and the Jedi Temple from its blast radius when it exploded.

Or shuddered inwardly. The longer he associated with the Bogans, the less sure he was that they cared at all about the things that mattered to him. He had gone along with the plan to plant the small nuke because, admittedly, the attacks his men had been launching against the loggers, and the bombs they were setting off in the city, seemed to be having less and less effect on the morale of the Senate that seemed bent on destroying the 'Lungs of Coruscant'.

But now he was beginning to realize that all that really mattered to Revenant was the personal vendetta he seemed to have against the Jedi. What had led to that obsession that the Master Bogan had, he did not know. Surely something that had happened to him on Tython during the fabled Force Wars.

Or shivered, but it was not the cold, air-conditioned air under the Senate building; rather it was the pure malevolence that seemed to pour out of Uni-Dent and permeate the very walls around them.

It had been remarkably easy to purchase access to the Senate. The satchel carrying the weapon was disguised from the eyes of the weak-minded by an ancient Bogan artifact, a golden broach that Revenant had attached to the bag. Once the two men, concealed in simple brown cloaks common to the poor of Coruscant, approached the guards at the main entrance, a wave of the hand and a simple suggestion from Uni-Dent allowed them to enter.

From there they had made their way down to the lower levels of the Senate. Uni manipulated the minds of any guards or officials that they encountered to allow them to pass. Or had to admire Uni's obvious mastery of this particular Force-skill. What is it like to possess such power over the mind of men? Or wondered. Or women? For Uni's exploits in that arena were legend.

"It's here," said Uni, snapping Or out of his reverie. "Pay attention, Or, we don't have much time," the Bogan snapped.

Or bristled at this disrespect, but did not want to argue with one so powerful. He swung the satchel off of his shoulder as Uni placed his hand on the lock of a non-descript door, closing his eyes and concentrating.

Amazingly, Or could hear the mechanism of the door unlocking, and it swung open to reveal a simple, dingy utility closet.

"Perfect," smiled Uni. The two pushed their way in, and Or kneeled on the ground, pulling the cylinder with its timing device attached out of the satchel and placing it on the floor under a shelf full of cleaning products.

"Strange place to put a bomb," he muttered.

"The blast radius will be perfect," Uni answered. "Set the timer to an hour like we planned and let's get out of here. We can't expect them to stall the Jedi much longer."

As Or set to work arming the digital timer on the weapon, Uni tried to contact Revenant with a communicator on his sleeve. All he heard was static. A wave of dread struck the Bogan.

"Something's gone wrong with the plan," said Uni. "We've got to get out of here."

Or jumped to his feet. "The weapon's armed. Let's go," replied Or.

They closed the utility room's door behind them and moved as speedily as possible through the warren of passageways, finally coming to a staircase up to a side exit.

"We'll be out of here soon," said Uni, forcing a smile. "We should have time to get deep into the 'Lungs' before the thing goes off. You'll have your victory Or, as shall we Bogans."

Rain Or did not share Uni-Dent's confidence.

The two terrorists came to a door at the end of a tunnel on the ground level and pushed out into the sunlight.

Uni-Dent whipped out his scimitar, having previously been instructed to give his lightsaber to Ranger, as Or drew a pistol. Greeting them was Jedi Master Yo, grinning fiercely, and at least a dozen armed Senate guards.

Yo drew his own blade. "End of the road, Bogan," he said.

Uni-Dent charged Yo as Rain Or began firing indiscriminately at the guards. They would not be taken alive today. They would not reveal the location of the bomb.

Sixty:

The ride to Alpha City with a silent Grandmaster Yeda and the two Senate guards was painful for Eric. He had no idea what his future would hold; all he knew was that his life had changed radically in the past 24 hours and his fate was now in the hands of the Jedi Council. He kept his mouth closed and focused on ignoring the soreness in his tightly cuffed wrists.

Arriving at the outskirts of the magnificent new city, he gave direction to the driver, one of the irregular Coruscant police. Within moments they swerved onto a familiar road, where he saw the block in front of an equally familiar residence cordoned off by police. The eco-terrorist sympathizer who had provided him access to the tunnels under the Alpha City Airport was in custody.

As they clambered out of the transport, Eric was dragged roughly to his feet by one of his bound arms and shoved towards the residence by one of the Senate guards. Yeda walked by his side.

"Show us the access to the tunnels, you shall," said the Grandmaster.

Eric nodded. With a nod from Yeda, one of the guards released Eric from his bindings. With the universal motion of all freed prisoners, he rubbed his wrists, wincing.

"Lead the way, you shall," said Yeda.

They pushed their way through the police cordon and into the residence. Eric pulled aside a carpet and opened the trapdoor underneath it. He looked up.

"What are we going to do once we get there?" he asked, confused.

"Wait here, we shall," said Yeda.

"But we don't have much time!" said Eric, exasperated.

"Led you to the Dark Side, your impatience had. Wait for Jedius, we must."

The Grandmaster placed both hands on the knob of his gimli stick with a patience born of centuries of meditation and contemplation.

After a few moments, the tall gray Jedi known as Jedius entered the residence, bowing his head under the door beam.

"I received your summons, Grandmaster. I sense the gravity of the situation," he intoned.

"Need your skills, we do, Master Jedius," answered Yeda.

Eric looked first at one, then the other Jedi Master. "Follow me," he said finally.

The group followed Eric down the rickety wooden steps into the dank tunnels below the residence.

One of the Senate guards lit a torch and they followed Eric closely through the winding warren of cold passages hewn from stone underneath Alpha City. At junctures, Eric would knit his brow and close his eyes, trying to remember the exact route he had taken. Yeda would place an almost comforting hand on his arm to help him better access the Force to help himself, while avoiding the turmoil and fear of the Dark Side.

After what seemed like hours, although it had only been twenty minutes, they arrived at the killing ground surrounding the empty sarcophagus. Eric turned his head away in dark shame as Yeda looked sadly at the bodies of the dead Jedi and Senate guards. The two guards that had accompanied them went about the business of checking the bodies for any signs of life while the Jedi approached the container.

Jedius kneeled before the sarcophagus, which was an awkward movement for an alien of his stature, and placed a hand on its inner surface while closing his eyes.

"I believe that since the weapon was in contact with this container, I might be able to pick up some clues as to where it is being taken in the Senate building."

"Contact Yadla immediately, I shall," said Yeda. Eric had never seen him move so hurriedly as he searched for the communicator he seemed to have misplaced on his person.

Finally, Yeda found the communicator was attached to his inner sleeve - there all along - and he raised the device to his mouth.

"Hear me, do you Yadla?" he asked.

For a few nervous moments there was only static. Finally, Yadla's voice cut through the white noise.

"I hear you, Yeda. Do we have a location?"

"Sure, Jedius is not. Guide you, he will. Go to the Senate building now, you must."

"Understood, Grandmaster. We shall tell you once we are in the Senate itself."

With that, Yeda turned and watched with concern as the Dorian used his unique skills to try to find some clues as to the location of the terrible weapon.

Sixty-One:

Mistress Yadla and Captain Thrith combed the passageways of the basement level of the Senate building, accompanied by bomb expert Ruin Schoo, an earnest, compact man who at the moment radiated worry. Thrith led the way with a glow-light while Yadla kept close communication with Grandmaster Yeda. Schoo carried a large case of tools, and each member of the party carried a bulky blast helmet.

"To look for a long passage with three doors, you must," crackled the voice of Yeda.

"That could mean any of about three hallways down here," snapped Thrith.

"We've got to be running out of time," exclaimed Schoo. "I'm going to need time with the device!"

Yadla patiently ignored them both. "Ask Jedius if he can give us any other clues, any at all," she spoke into her communicator.

There was a moment's silence that drew into an eternity, when finally the communicator crackled again.
"I see a small room, with shelves," came the distant, ghost-like voice of Jedius over the static.

"Hear that, do you?" asked Yeda, his voice louder than the other's.

"I'm going to need more than that," said Thrith, who had stopped to think.

"A bucket, and a broom, he sees," said Yeda after a moment.

Thrith's eyes popped open. "I've got it!" He turned to Mistress Yadla. "I know exactly the room. Any Senate guard who had clean-up duty as a rookie knows that room all too well. It's the janitor's closet. Come on!"

He strode away quickly, and Schoo and Yadla had to hurry to catch up.

They turned a corner, and saw before them a long passageway, a door on each side and one ahead. Thrith ran to the door on the left and pulled the handle. It was locked.

"Stand back," he ordered, and kicked the door mightily. It crashed open with a splintering noise.

"Careful!" squeaked Schoo.

Thrith entered the small room carefully, holding the glow-light aloft as he scanned the shelves. There was indeed a bucket, and a broom, as well as many other cleaning supplies. And sitting on the floor under a low shelf, there was a long gray metallic cylinder with a timer attached that was obviously the weapon they were looking for.

The timer showed twenty seconds.

"We're too late!" exclaimed Schoo in terror. He dropped his tools with a crash and backed up instinctively.

"One is never too late when there is still time," said Yadla cryptically. "Put on your blast helmets and stand back."

Schoo hurridly put on his helmet, while Thrith had to grin momentarily despite the danger as he watched the diminutive Jedi Master put on her gigantic blast helmet, which wobbled comically on her head. He then put on his helmet and stepped out of the room.

Yadla reached out her hands, and in the Force felt for the cylinder, lifting it from the floor and suspending it in the air in the center of the room. Then she enclosed it with a Force bubble she could see in her mind's eye. On the fields of battle in Tython, she had a singular skill that had saved her troops from enemy munitions on a regular basis, and now she was going to test that ability on an exponentially more challenging scale.

As the seconds counted down, she gave herself completely to the Force, feeling it flow through and around her into the bubble surrounding the nuclear bomb.

As she felt the final second tick away, rather than bracing herself, she relaxed even more, with an ability born of centuries of training. The bomb exploded, and for a moment, as the bubble expanded outwards to almost fill the entire room, she almost feared that she would fail. But her ability fed on the power of the explosion within the bubble. The stronger the blast, the stronger the bubble.

For long moments the massive explosion roiled within the Force bubble, and she felt the power of the Force flow through her tiny frame as never before. She was no longer a small little alien. She was a titan. And then she no longer thought of herself as Yadla, as an individual, but only as a conduit for the infinite goodness that was the Light Side of the Force. She smiled as she felt her form melt away, the individual atoms seeming to drift away from one another, and she let herself flow with the river of energy, felt the power feeding on the explosion carry her to another realm that was all energy, all light. She could see fields of shining gold, and friends and companions she thought long dead to her. They were welcoming her now, smiling, and the explosion was no longer contained but was now the sun that lit the fields.

And then it dimmed, and stilled, and she was at peace.

Schoo and Thrith carefully lifted the visors of their blast helmets.

"Mistress Yadla?" ventured Thrith. Where before there was a light that penetrated through even the visor of the blast helmet, it was now completely dark, and he pulled out and snapped another glow-light.

He and Schoo walked into the small room, and found it completely empty. There was no Mistress Yadla, no weapon, no shelves, no cleaning implements; only four bare walls.

Thrith raised his communicator to his mouth, shaken. "Master Yeda, I think we're safe."

Miles away, Grandmaster Yeda's eyes popped open, startled. He could feel the power of Mistress Yadla's passage into the Force, even at such a great distance. He knew that she had succeeded, but knew also that he had lost his companion of almost half a millennium.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment allowed himself memory, reminiscence. He remembered Ossus; founding the Jedi Order on Tython; the triumph of the Force Wars; the deep satisfaction of forging a tenuous alliance with the nascent Republic and building the Temple on Coruscant; the many hours of joint meditation where he and Yadla could let their minds play with each other in utter peace.

And now she was gone.

Yeda would go on, and one day he would join her in the Force, until - he now knew - they would be reincarnated many millennia hence for the good of the Jedi Order.

These thoughts gave him peace, and he opened his eyes and returned to the business of preparing the bodies of the men Eric had killed for interment.

Sixty-Two:

Shara Tavri pushed her way through the crowd as she approached the Western entrance of the Jedi Temple from the Northern plaza, pack and scimitar slung over her back, bearing news of her meeting with Senator Hail Lay-La on Alderaan. When the irregular police keeping the jostling crowd away from the scenes of the morning's melees saw that she was obviously a Jedi, they let her through with some trepidation.

What she saw shocked her.

The walls of the Jedi Temple and the ground of the plaza were pockmarked with holes left by RPW rounds. Arrows protruded from the ground. Blood smears and abandoned personal effects lay everywhere. The Western grove was trampled and mangled. Masters Shim and Yo were directing Senate guards in the processing of eco-terrorists and natives taken prisoner, their hands bound behind their backs.

Master Yo raised his head as she strode to him in quick, hurried steps.

"Master Yo? What happened here?"
He turned to regard her calmly. "The Bogans staged an attack this morning, to distract us from the planting of a bomb, a nuclear bomb, in the Senate building. But," he raised his voice as her mouth opened, "the crisis has been averted."

Shocked that Master Yo could be so non-plussed by such a stunning turn of events, something made Shara cast about in the Force for signs of Lan. Her heart pounded as she could find no trace of him, and she asked the question she dreaded to form into words. "And Lan?" She hoped he was merely very, very far away.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Master Shim said quietly with a sniff as he approached. "I'm afraid Lan perished in a duel with the Master Bogan, Revenant."

A wave of dizziness and nausea struck her as her heart leapt into her throat. She fought back the urge to tears.

"My dear? Would you like to talk about it?" asked Shim lamely.

She shook her head. "No, no," she gasped, then drew herself stiffly upright. "I'm alright," she said bravely. "I just need…to go to my room." She ran into the Temple wiping her forearm across eyes streaming tears as the two Jedi Masters regarded each other gravely, then went back to the task at hand.

Shara pushed through the door to her room and fell face down on her bed, throwing her bag and blade to the ground. "No no NO!" she shrieked, the sound muffled in her bedspread. She felt terribly, terribly empty. She had never realized how much she relied on the steady presence of Lan's life energy within the walls of the Temple.

No no no, Lan, what am I going to do?

The thought of life without ever seeing Lan again struck Shara as one of those terrible dreams that one is grateful to wake from and realize one was only dreaming. Only this was no dream. Her body was racked with sobs as she held her pillow over her head.

Then came a timid voice from the doorway, which she had neglected to close. "Shara, are you ok?" It was Berlia, a young padawan.

Shara spun on the door, her eyes burning. "Get OUT!" she screamed, and the padawan's face blanched with dismay.

No, that's not how Lan would want me to be, to act.

"Wait Berlia," she called after the padawan, who had hurried away, perhaps crying. She dried her tears on her sleeve, pulled herself together, and got up and ran out into the hall. "Berlia, wait!"

The padawan turned, bravely thrusting out her chin, and approached Shara.

"Where's Mistress Yadla, Berlia? I really need to talk to her."

"Didn't they tell you? Mistress Yadla's gone. She wasn't killed exactly…." The padawan's voice trailed off as Shara sat heavily on the stone floor, her hands to her head.

The world was spinning around Shara, and she felt as though her life was coming to an end. She felt herself slowly losing any reserves of self-control. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her mind on the breath. Like Mistress Yadla had taught her.

Berlia put a consoling hand on Shara's shoulder, and Shara reached up and patted it to comfort the young padawan. She's just a child, after all. I'm a Jedi.

Shara got up. "I need to go, Berlia. I'll be alright," she added at Berlia's inquisitive look.

As Berlia moved off, Shara staggered back into her room, and began numbly unpacking her bag, needing something to do. She felt hollow inside, all sorrow gone.

Then she was struck with a thought. I need to get away from here, just for a while. I can't be here without Lan.

She went to a chest of drawers and pulled out some clean clothes and personal effects and stuffed them into her half-unpacked bag, not really paying attention to what she was doing. As she turned to the door, bag and scimitar strapped to her back, she was startled to see Master Yo in the doorway, looking concerned. Really the last person she wanted to see right now.

"Shara, where are you going?"

"Oh, nowhere," she sniffed, then took a deep breath and pulled the straps of her bag tighter. "I just need to go into the city for a little while, get some things, clear my head."

Master Yo nodded. "A wise plan. When you return, perhaps we can meditate on the day's events, and plan how you will cope with your loss. You will be able to move forward and find meaning in your life, Shara. I know this is hard, but you will be alright."

He was talking entirely too much. Shara nodded, and pushed past the Jedi Master, not concerned about protocol at the moment.

"I'll, I'll be fine. I'll be back," she smiled wanly.

"Don't be gone too long," he added. "The Jedi Council will still need your report on your mission to Alderaan."

"I'll be back soon," she lied, then turned and walked as swiftly as she could to the Western entrance and out into the plaza.

Sixty-Three:

Shara wandered numbly among the stalls of one of the many bustling marketplaces in Center City, not far from the Senate Plaza. It was a sunny day, and many shoppers, human and alien alike, moved around her, jostling and talking. She felt like a small rock diverting the current of a stream around her on both sides; a cold hard stone in the midst of bubbling life.

It was strange; if she paid enough attention to the wares in the market, she could almost pretend that Lan wasn't really dead. Maybe she had just imagined it.

Suddenly it struck her that this was the market were Uni had committed the murder that had him thrown out of the Jedi Order! And it had been Lan who had followed him; had spotted him. She fought back another spasm of grief.

Just then, something caught her attention. A tall man, with short blond hair, moved ahead of her in the crowd, wearing brown robes. Feeling the absurdity of what she was doing, she craned her neck and peered at him, hoping against hope that it would be Lan. The man turned his head and seemed to smile. He seemed to have the same round boyish face with that same furrowed brow that always made Lan seem so intense, even at his lightest moments, as if he was watching every move on your face for a reaction to what he was saying. She had respected and loved that.

"Lan!" she heard herself cry, and foolishly waved a hand, standing on her toes. The man turned and faded into the crowd as she suddenly became aware of all of the shoppers around her staring at her, this strangely desperate young Jedi.

She felt the oppressive weight of the presence in the Force of all of those life-forms in the crowd, the force of their judgment and disapproval crowding in on her, and suddenly she was struck with a paroxysm of anxiety – the rush of water in the river threatened to sink the stone.

"This is no good," she thought to herself, holding her forearm to eyes that suddenly felt very sensitive to the light of day. "I have to leave this planet. I have to leave the Order."

She spun on her heels and hurried from the market, searching for a thorough-fare were she could hail transport to the Alpha City Airport. She had made up her mind that she was never returning to the Jedi Temple. There was nothing for her there anymore.

A dilapidated cab swerved to a stop in front of her in response to her hails, dirty smoke sputtering from its tailpipe. As she climbed in, she noted dully that the cabbie was an old, fat, ivory-skinned Tallian with a tired, gray-haired ponytail pulled behind his head. He was chomping on a cigar.

"Where to?" he barked.

"Alpha City Airport. I have credits," she mumbled.

"You a Jedi, huh?" he asked, eyeing her dubiously as he noted her puffy eyes and face.

"Something like that."

"Alright, I know when not to ask any questions. Strap yourself in, missy. I'm a really bad driver!" He laughed, descending into a spasm of coughing. "Where you headed?" he asked as he pulled out, unable not to be nosy.

"Outer planet somewhere."

"Hey, did you hear about the anomaly on the Corellian run? We Tallians aren't going back to our homeworld for a long, long time, looks like. Could take them centuries to plot around it."

"Huh, that's too bad."

"Damn right it's too bad! My people are stuck here in the inner core. Stack, I'm stuck here on this planet!"

"Not me," she said, staring anxiously at the passing, crowding skyscrapers.

The cabbie took another look at her, shrugged, and swerved to avoid rear-ending another driver.

Sixty-Four:

A cold Coruscant night had passed, and it was clear that Shara Hewan was not returning. A decision was made not to pursue her for the time being, but to let her find her own way.

Now there was the matter of funerals for Lan Hewan and Rancere. No one was exactly sure what had happened to Yadla, although Grandmaster Yeda had assured the Jedi Council that her spirit had joined the Force.

On a cold, grey morning, the residents of the Jedi Temple filed into the same large courtyard that had seen the marriage of Lan and Shara Hewan such a short while ago.

On two funeral pyres opposite of the ornate stone doorway leading into the courtyard, dressed in white robes, the bodies of Lan and Rancere lay peacefully. Standing between the pyres was Jedi Master of Ceremonies Arn-fin Ald, holding in each hand a large, sputtering torch.

As they entered the courtyard, Bernian, his head still bandaged, and Grandmaster Yeda made their way to where Ald was standing, and took their places. Bernian stood next to the pyre on which Lan lay, while Yeda stood beside Rancere's.

As was the case for Lan and Shara's wedding, the present members of the Jedi Council seated themselves in the front, for this solemn occasion wearing black ceremonial robes. Behind them sat the rest of the occupants of the Jedi temple, excepting those guarding the entrances or manning the watch tower; padawans watching younglings sat in the very back. Jedius was absent, guarding Eric Stormhammer, who was being held for the time being in one of the holding cells in the Temple's lower levels. Also notably absent was Master Bal the healer, who was in the infirmary tending to Arames, Miria, and the wounded Senate guard.

Yeda felt the waves of grief rolling off of Bernian, and looked over at the young man to observe that although his face was set firmly, his eyes were reddened. Yeda made a mental note to himself to take the boy under his wing and counsel him through his grief of losing his boyhood friend.

Deep in his heart, Yeda felt sorrow, as well. For Lan; for Rancere, the young Tallian he had saved from the streets; and, of course, for Yadla, his confidant.

When all turned to the Grandmaster, who did the Grandmaster turn to?

Once the assembled Jedi had seated themselves, and the whispering of speech had stilled, Ald cleared his voice and spoke in careful, measured tones.

"In all of the galaxy, the only constant is Impermanence," he began, as the Jedi Masters in the audience nodded sagely.

"We gather to mourn Lan Hewan, Rancere and Mistress Yadla, but we do not grieve unduly, for we know they are now one with the Light Side of the Force, for all eternity, the promise for all Jedi who hold fast to the Light.

"They did not die in vain, for they died not only defending the Senate and the Jedi Temple, but for the very survival of the Jedi Order.

"And now they join the Light Side of the Force because they held on to the principles and practice of the Jedi at the last moment of their mortal lives."

Ald paused for a moment to consider the congregants, who sat very still, some with their chins dropped and eyes closed in meditation. He continued, his voice a step quieter.

"And now a moment of silence for Mistress Yadla," he intoned, holding the heavy torches uncomfortably. "She who moved on in the act of saving the Senate and the Jedi Temple."

As the Jedi present observed their private thoughts and feelings in silence, Master Ald presented Bernian and Yeda each with a heavy torch. As they touched the flames to the kindling at the base of the two funeral pyres, Ald spoke.

"Now we light these funeral pyres, consigning the material bodies of Lan Hewan and Rancere to join the wind, more fully freeing their spirits to join with the Force."

At that moment a strong breeze whipped down into the courtyard, rising up and lifting the flames of the two pyres high into the grey sky of Coruscant, and all eyes stared thoughtfully as the roaring infernos removed their two fellow Jedi forever from their sight.

Sixty-Five:

"So, your enemies and the enemies of the Republic have been vanquished, it seems," rasped Chancellor Ulmas as he turned from a side table in his offices in the Senate, having poured himself a stiff Corellian brandy. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Jedi Masters Ne-Ship Yo and An-Yen Shim shook their heads politely, their hands joined and hidden in the sleeves of their black robes.

Ulmas continued. "I appreciate you coming to confer with me so quickly, Masters. To discuss the future of the Republic and its relationship with the Jedi."

Shim spoke first.

"Chancellor Ulmas, I promised you the service of the Jedi Order to the Republic, and I wanted to come to assure you that those conditions have not changed."

"In light of the defeat of the eco-terrorists and the Bogan, yes. Circumstances have changed, but your pledge has not. Your loyalty to the Republic does not go unnoticed by myself or the Senate."

Yo spoke stridently.

"We wish to serve as defenders of, and advisors to, the Republic, so that all can have the right to live in unity with the Force."

Shim groaned inwardly at Yo's obviously rehearsed, pat statement.

"It is clear your help is required," replied Ulmas, nodding. "These are very turbulent times. I speak in complete confidence with you when I say that our spies have found evidence that a mounting threat to the Republic, a threat which may or may not have had ties with the Bogans, is accumulating money and materials."

"We Jedi have sensed a gathering threat as well, but what it could be is yet very unclear, Chancellor," said Shim.

"Yes, it does not appear to be an imminent threat," mused the Chancellor, sipping his brandy. "Yet, it cannot be discounted. We must divert money and resources towards arming ourselves, towards recruiting soldiers and spies, and I hope," his eyes flickered from the eyes of Yo to Shim, "that this does not seem distasteful to the Jedi."

"Not at all," said Shim. "Only a fool does not seek shelter in the cave mouth when the boulder rolls towards his head."

The wizened Chancellor laughed, coughing. "Yes, I love a good Jedi axiom."

He grew thoughtful. "So, speaking of weapons. What of this…lightsaber?"

"Eventually we hope to arm all Jedi with the lightsaber," answered Yo. "However, for now it must remain ceremonial until we can perfect its design. It remains too unreliable a weapon at the moment."

"But its potential in the hands of a Jedi is staggering," interjected Shim.

"Yes, I see. Forgive my prying," said the Chancellor, draining the glass and thumping it on his desk.

"Well! You must excuse me. I have an emergency session of the Senate to preside over. But I wanted the assurance of your help and, having received it, you have stilled the fears in my very old heart by a good measure."

"It pleases us to have done so," said Shim, nodding respectfully. "We will show ourselves out."

"Go in peace, Master Jedi. I am sure we will speak again soon," said the Chancellor, opening the door out of his office and moving gingerly past Yo and Shim.

Sixty-Six:

On a beautiful Coruscant morning, banners fluttered in the breeze on the Senate plaza as a huge crowd of citizens gathered to view the heroes of the previous day's events receive awards for their service to the Republic.

Chancellor Ulmas stood on a podium in front of the steps of the Senate building. Behind him were assembled all of the members of the Senate. Before him sat Jal Thrith and his seven surviving Senate guards; an empty seat marked where Tanis Bael, the slain guard, would have sat.

Although the Jedi had politely refused any commendations, Jedi Masters Yeda and Shim sat with the senators behind Ulmas to represent the Jedi order.

After some initial ceremonies, Ulmas cleared his throat to address the gathered throng.

"Yesterday, as the citizens of the Republic all now know, the very existence of our Republic was threatened by terrorists who wished to strike at us with a most devastating weapon. Were it not for the actions of nine brave Senate guards, and the Jedi, I - and the Senators behind me - would not be standing here on this hopeful morning.

"The Jedi have elected not to receive any special notice for their actions, and we respect their wishes. However, I would like to take a moment of silence to commemorate three Jedi, who shall remain unnamed, who lost their lives defeating the terrorists' nefarious plot."

A hush fell over the crowd, and as they bowed their heads, Shim and Yeda were pleased to note a general feeling of appreciation emanate from the assembled masses.

Then Ulmas broke the silence.

"And now, I wish to bestow the Order of the Republic on Jal Thrith, Captain of the Senate guards, for his role in repelling the eco-terrorist attack as the weapon was being planted in this very Senate building!"

A great cheer went up from the assembled crowd, many of whom held aloft vid-cams and other recording devices in an attempt to capture for posterity the moment that they were participating in.

As Thrith approached the podium with the proper modesty and deference, his polished breast-plate and helmet shining magnificently in the sun, Yeda turned to Shim.

"Hmmph. Politics, Manipulation," he said beneath his breath. "Allow the Senate to manipulate us, we must not."

Shim merely nodded in agreement.

Ulmas spoke again.

"For assistance in the deactivation and disposal of the nuclear weapon, Ruin Schoo shall receive the Order of the Republic."

The compact bomb disposal expert, his humility at this moment no doubt the result of knowing that he had not helped in the least to deactivate said weapon, approached the podium to receive his commendation.

The remaining seven Senate guards, and the wife of Tanis Bael, received their medals, and then the crowds slowly dissipated as the ceremony came to a close. As Yeda and Shim picked their way back to the peace of the still-standing Jedi Temple, Shim spoke thoughtfully.

"Master Yeda, I feel we have failed the first class of Coruscant's young Jedi: Shara, Lan, Eric, Uni, Rancere. I feel we must examine the actions we took, the actions that led to the recent tragic events. And I feel I must begin with myself. What could I have done differently?"

Yeda nodded. "Meditate deeply on all that has occurred, and all we can do moving forward, I shall as well."

Sixty-Seven:

General Xendor waited impatiently in his chilly throne room, hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword. One of his spies had been contacted by an emissary from the extinct Kashi Mer dynasty, who had indicated that, for a price, he could help train Xendor's men in certain ancient fighting arts.

Xendor wanted to meet this man for himself.

The doors to the chamber opened, and a sentinel clad in mesh body armor and carrying a pike entered.

"Tal'mar, servant of the Kashi Mer dynasty presents himself to General Xendor!"

With this announcement, a small, hunched old man, clad in a hooded robe and wearing a patch on his left eye, shuffled into the chamber.

Xendor nodded, and the sentinel left, closing the doors behind him.

The General appraised the old man. He had a thin bristle of hair on top of his head, as well as in his ears and wart-covered nose. But although he seemed brittle with age, he did not supplicate himself and carried himself with a certain dignity.

"You have a service you can render me and my men?" asked Xendor.

"Much more than that, General. I believe I hold a key piece of your own personal history, and I have come to offer this to you now."

Xendor was taken aback, but simply raised an eyebrow and adjusted himself on his throne.

"And your price?"

"No price, great General. I served your father, and I wish to serve you now."

Xendor was taken aback, but simply smiled in amusement. "My father? I was raised by the Jedi on Tython. I have no father."

"I would beg to differ, General Xendor. Your father was an exile from the Kashi Mer dynasty, now extinct. He crash landed on Tython, and before he died, he gave you a very rare gift, a power which was the reason for which he was exiled."

Xendor was non-plussed, but curious. "And you know of this how?"

"I recently received a decaying transmission sent by your father, all those years ago, and he spoke of you, General Xendor, and your brother."

"My brother?" Xendor steeled himself as to not reveal his shock.

"Yes, you have a brother. Allow me to start from the beginning.

"Your father, along with you and your twin brother, was exiled from the Kashi Mer dynasty for exploring the dark arts while you were both just infants. His greatest discovery was the 'Dark Breath', or breath of the Dark Side of the Force, as it is now known. Those who breathe in the 'Dark Breath' are able to live for centuries, not decades.

"For some reason, while travelling to the inner core of the galaxy, your father's vessel was damaged and he crash-landed on Tython.

"Dying from his injuries, your father was found by a villager, who befriended and helped your father, easing his pain and tending to you and your brother. From this villager, your father learned of the followers of the Ashla and the Boga. Your father felt that as a last service to the Dark Side, he would give you and your brother, who was named Lal, the 'Dark Breath', in the hopes that you would eventually infect the followers of the Ashla with the Dark Side and rise to power.

"In this way, he believed his legacy would live on.

"He manipulated the mind of the villager, a simple-minded fool, so that your brother would be left to be raised by the villager's family. You, the stronger of the two children, would be left with the forces of the Ashla. Xendor, Lal, these are names of Kashi Mer nobility, not natives of Tython."

Xendor cleared his throat and put his fist to his chin, pondering. "And so I was raised by the Ashla, possessing a most unusual name. I can sense you are telling the truth. But what good does this knowledge do me now?"

"I propose to you something most practical, Lord Xendor. I offer my services as an aide, to take your side, just as I took your father's side all those years ago. I shall train you and your men in the ancient Jar'Kai fighting arts. We shall name these fighting arts 'Niman', after the triumvirate of Kashi gods. I shall teach you everything you have been denied all these years, chafing under the Jedi, and you shall learn of your glorious heritage.

"We will restore the Kashi Mer dynasty to its rightful glory, with you as our ruler, Lord Xendor."

"General Xendor is sufficient. My men need a leader, not a ruler. But your offer is most intriguing." Xendor thought for a moment. "I accept your offer, but under one condition."

"Yes, General Xendor?"

"You help me find my brother."

Epilogue:

Blan Bil, the seer, sat on his meditation mat in his quarters in the Jedi Temple, peacefully contemplating nothingness as the Force flowed through and around him.

That was when the vision came.

His consciousness was suddenly clouded by a thick, roiling cloud of black, as of the darkest thunderstorm. Huge explosions studded his ears, klaxons of alarm called out danger, and the marching footsteps of endless legions of men marched in the distance.

Knowing that this terrifying vision might prove useful to the Jedi Council, he calmed his fears and desire to wake, and allowed himself to sink into the vision.

He saw an endless procession of planets, each one blue and green and, he sensed, inhabited. Each planet in turn was surrounded by a swarm of spacecraft that dropped fire on the planets until they burned as a funeral pyre and were reduced to cinders.

The nearest planet was covered with a city, and Bil recognized it as Coruscant.

A gigantic figure, armored in black with a fearsome black helmet and carrying a huge black broad-sword, strode from the background and stood astride Coruscant, lifting his broadsword in triumph and then thrusting it into the city-planet. He threw back his head and laughed a booming, virulent laugh as the ships swarmed the planet, dropping fire onto its cityscape. A throne appeared, and the armored figure sat on the throne, his hand on the pommel of the broadsword.

The other hand reached for his helmet and made to pull it off…

Bil woke from the vision, sweat pouring from every pore of his body, stinging his eyes. There was no doubt that this was a very specific premonition of the danger the Jedi Council was only dimly, until now, aware of.

His legs shaky, Master Blan Bil the seer rose to his feet and pulled on fresh clothes. Then he left his chambers, making for Grandmaster Yeda's quarters.

Some months after the events surrounding the defeat of the eco-terrorists, Chancellor Ulmas, Senator Wreth and Minas Talth stood on the balcony of a modern skyscraper overlooking a vast valley that once was a deeply forested portion of the 'Lungs of Coruscant'. Standing with them was Har Scrabll, a wealthy contractor, who was now pointing out various features of the development that was rising in this valley. Scrabll was a hard, thick block of a man, and his voice was expressionless and terse.

"What we're looking at here, Chancellor, are living quarters for Coruscant's Tallian population. With the anomaly blocking their return to their planet, they're going to need inexpensive living quarters, especially with so many of them moving from elsewhere in the Inner Core here to Coruscant."

"Does this construction interfere with the mining operations in this sector?" asked Wreth.

"Not at all. This particular sector was pretty rich in Lommite, but MineTech has moved on in the last month or so. If you look in the distance," and here he extended a thick finger to point to the forest-line at the edge of the valley, "you can see some pretty significant logging going on, and I understand there's one particular river they're draining and redirecting to reservoirs in the Beta zone."

"Fantastic," mused Ulmas.

"Absolutely, Chancellor. That's going to provide a lot of heretofore untapped fresh water for the occupants of that zone of Galactic City."

"Well, Mister Scrabll, you're doing a fantastic job," said Wreth. "I'm going to make sure any additional building funds you require get pushed through the Senate. Most Senators are now fully on board with the development of the remaining Forestland."

Scrabll nodded politely, and showed the politicians and Talth the door back in from the balcony.

On a glorious, cool morning, Master Shim stood facing Grandmaster Yeda on the Northern Plaza adjacent the Jedi Temple. Behind Shim stood assembled most of the occupants of the Temple, including the majority of the Jedi Council and padawans carrying younglings or holding them by the hand. Shim and the assemblage all wore travelling robes and carried their worldly possessions, and their blades, on their backs.

"The Perlemian Trade Route has reached Ossus," said Shim. "Traveling there is now a much safer prospect.

"We shall meet with the Jedi on Ossus, and make our homes there, Grandmaster," said Shim was a tinge of sadness in his voice. "But first we shall make a detour to Caamas, there to learn how to more ethically use our powers through study of proper moral judgment with the Caamasi philosophers there."

"A wise decision, this is. Much we can learn from the Caamasi," answered Yeda.

"And you shall…be alright?"

"Maintain a presence on Coruscant, the Jedi must. But to build the main Jedi Temple so close to the Senate, too dangerous it is."

"And you agree with the Council's decision to maintain our stronghold on Ossus rather than back on Tython?"

"Agree, I do. Too tenuous, the hyperspace lanes to Tython now are, and too unstable, that planet is."

Yeda turned to look at Eric, who was among the Jedi assembled.

Shim noted this. "Eric will go with us to Ossus. Since his connection to the Force cannot be blocked, he will instead work with the agricultural corps there, working in the fields. He will be denied access to any Jedi training, privileges, weaponry or learning, for the rest of his life."

Yeda nodded. "The best decision possible, this is."

Shim grasped the straps of his pack and adjusted it, breathing deeply. "Well, Grandmaster, this is where we part. But we shall meet again."

"May the Force be with you," said Yeda, his eyes bright.

"May the Force be with you, Grandmaster."

And with this, the majority of the Coruscanti Jedi turned towards their transports to the Alpha City Airport, many to never again set foot on the center of the Galactic Republic.

Ranger lay behind the body of a large, dead Akash at the top of a hill within the last remaining kiloacre of what was the 'Lungs of Coruscant', sheltered for the moment from the guns of the now heavily armed Republic forces at the bottom of the hill. He and what remained of his tribe had been pursued to this last hopeless defensive position, surrounded on all sides by the Republic troops.

From his vantage point, if he peered through the trees he could almost make out the new skyscrapers rising where Forest had once stood. In the distance roared the endless cacophony of logging machines felling trees, where spider-lions had once roared.

One of his fellow tribesmen, clutching a longbow with his back to a nearby tree, caught his eye.

"Nag'yal Ryap?" his tribesman asked. Die with honor?

"Nag'yal Ryap," Ranger replied.

Ranger leapt up from behind the protection of the Akash corpse, launching half of his quiver of arrows within seconds at the members of the Republic forces moving from tree to tree at the base of the hill. He grinned with fierce satisfaction as he caught one soldier in the neck, where his body armor could not protect him.

Then he felt the RPW rounds thud into his body, and he fell like a tree behind the body of the akash as he saw his brother tribesman fall dead nearby.

The blood boiled in Bezel'um's mouth as tears stung his eyes. I have failed, he thought. Dagya et branya. Utterly and completely.

He reached for a handful of dirt from the base of the nearest tree, crushing it to his face. He breathed the scent of the loam of the Forest floor for the last time, and his tears mingled with the earth.