Athos

"Alright, Phase Two complete."

At once, the spinning of the Z-6 ceased, cutting off the waves of blaster fire that had once been harrying Athos nonstop.

He froze in place as the very last bolt bounced off the blade in his left hand, impacting upon the ground in front and a little to the side of where he was standing, leaving a tiny dark scorch mark in it's wake. Reflexively, he clenched his right hand, missing the feeling of his other saber he usually held within it, but had since lost it in the onslaught of lasers. That had been a mistake born of haste and surprise as he'd tried to move it in such a way that he could block two that were coming at nearly the same time, but had overextended himself in trying to do so. He'd known the bolts would come fast, but knowing the approximant speed and actually experiencing it are often two very different things. He straightened slowly, wiping at the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he thumbed the ignition of his remaining lightsaber but kept it squarely in his palm, letting his hand fall to his side as the end to this segment of the training scenario came at last.

Roughly twenty feet away, Dusty let the business end of his weapon droop downwards as his shoulders sagged, smoke rising off the muzzle as it glowed orange due to having been fired continually to the point of overheating. Factually speaking, it hadn't taken that long but to Athos, it felt like it had taken forever before it finally stop spitting brilliant blue death at him. The clone holding the weapon was delighted, the Force informed him, the adrenaline giving him a high he always hated coming back down from. His helmet hid it, but Athos could tell he was grinning from ear to ear. "Well would you look at that, I disarmed a Jedi!"

"Uh, untrue," Athos contested, shaking the lightsaber he still yet had for emphasis. "I've got one left." After which, he took his eyes off the clone to look for his errant lightsaber. He was sure it bounced somewhere behind him...

"But it is one less than you had to begin with." Dusty argued, lifting his trigger hand temporarily off the blaster so as to shake the growing stiffness out of it.

"And even being down that other saber, I would still be considered armed as common sense would dictate, the sentiment backed up by the legions upon legions of Jedi who favor using only a single blade to fight or defend." Ah, there it was, lying not too far away, temporarily forgotten as Athos had struggled to keep from being hit even once. Thankfully being curved rather than cylindrical, it hadn't gotten too far, the natural shape of the hilt keeping it from gaining much momentum. He stretched his hand towards it and a moment later, it flew into his empty palm. "So no, you can't go around telling anyone that you outfought a Jedi, even one in training."

"Aw..." Dusty slumped before pulling himself back up, his disappointment at being denied bragging rights disappearing as quickly at it had come. "Oh well. Easy come, easy go."

"You never had it to begin with though..." Doc muttered over the intercom, reminding both people in the training room they weren't alone.

"Doc," Athos looked up to the control room, "You saw the whole thing, so could you tell me how I did? In the form of a grade, if you wouldn't mind."

"What?" Doc questioned as Athos imagined he was leaning back in his seat, feeling the mild confusion and dismay in the clone, "I didn't know I was supposed to be grading you Sir and besides, isn't that more the area of General Vesus?"

"Normally yes but he's not here at the moment, as you well know." Athos answered, sliding his sabers back onto his belt, "That is precisely the point however. I'm asking you because I want to know how my fighting looks to someone who is untrained in the arts of lightsaber combat. If my weaknesses are obvious even to a person doesn't know anything, than it gives me that much more information on what I seriously need to work on." Athos smiled warmly as he felt the medic's anxiety spike, "And no, this isn't a test Doc, so there's no need to overthink or worry about it. Just an honest appraisal is all I want."

"Uh, yes Sir," Doc began awkwardly, trying to formulate a response that would be deemed satisfactory, "Well for Phase One..."

"Oh, not Phase One." Athos interrupted with a slight shake of his head. "I already know there's no probable way you could accurately judge that. Just Phase Two, alright?"

"Yes Sir," He responded neutrally, but Athos could tell that had alleviated some of the pressure, "For Phase Two then... You deflected or avoided every shot that would have killed or seriously crippled you in a real-life combat situation, but you did get grazed a couple of times, mostly at the start when you were still adjusting. Still, you managed to compensate well enough afterward though. The lack of a perfect score stems from the fact that one of your lightsabers got shot out of your hand around the midway point but judging from the lack of a pained reaction, I think the bolt hit the hilt and not your flesh, which redeems some of the failure as you were still able to angle it in such a way that you didn't hurt yourself. Be that as it may Sir, I don't know anything about how to use a lightsaber but I understand vibroblades well enough to see that when you lost that second blade, you started moving a bit... weirdly, I guess? Your motions didn't look as natural as before, even if you were still operating effectively enough for avoid any harm. So...C plus, maybe?"

Athos grimaced at the clone's unexpected accuracy, a hand reaching back to caress the hilt of the one to his right. It was true that he'd been neglecting building up his experience with a single saber in favor of better learning how to duel-wielding, but he'd hoped to master that style well enough that the chances of losing even one would be very little. However, it appeared he'd fallen into the trap present within the style in that he was starting to become dependent on having both in his hands at any given time and that would prove to be his downfall one day should he meet someone who knew how to exploit that. He nodded to himself as he made a mental note to start working on that a little later.

"C plus?!" Dusty cried incredulously, "Doc, you didn't see what it looked like up close but I did and I can tell you that what I witnessed was flipping amazing. That right there was worth a B at least!"

"No, he's right," Athos sighed, internally wondering if that was what an overly attentive parent sounded like, "C plus would be about accurate... Alright, I think that's all I had planned out for today." He looked to the other clone in the room as him, "So Dusty, would you finally tell us what's really in there?" Athos gestured to the large crate that had been set aside up to this point.

"With pleasure, this was the moment I was waiting for, after all." Dusty told him with an edge of excitement to his voice, "Commander, Brother, otherwise empty room, welcome to Phase Three."

"Phase Three?" Doc stood up from his seat, giving a better view of himself to the Training Room, "Dusty, what are you talking about? There is no Phase Three!"

"Oh yes there is!" Dusty insisted, backing up a couple of steps and then returning to where he was a moment later, dragging the massive container back with him in a remarkable feat of strength, using only one hand while the other kept hold of the Z-6. He then crouched, taking a moment to fiddle the latches until they came undone before his fingers curled around the lid."Feast your eyes on an idea all my own!" In a display of showmanship, he made a point pulling it open as grandly as possible while exaggerating ever little movement, giving both his fellows a view of what was inside.

A beat of silence followed.

"...You're insane." Doc deadpanned numbly.

What lay before them was what is commonly known as a Plasma Launcher; a weapon capable of firing superheated bundles of plasma which would explode upon making contact with a surface of any kind, be it an object or a person. Though roughly classified as an anti-infantry weapon, given how easily it shredded through body armor and flesh alike, it also did spectacularly well against certain vehicles. It was by all appearances a very heavy weapon, one that could have been considered about equal to the Z-6 in terms of weight but was much larger and more unwieldy, making it impossible to run with or maneuver in an efficient manner. It was also a streamlined piece of hardware that looked no different from any other particular member of the model, but that had always seemed rather strange to Athos given the sheer of amount of damage it could inflict. It looked so... ordinary, even though it was anything but.

"Maybe," Dusty informed him cheerfully, "But if so, then it's the best kind of insane!"

"There are no good forms of insanity!" Doc almost shouted, sounding utterly dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, Athos was thinking on a different wave length as he studied the same weapon Dusty was looking at, his arms crossing before a hand went up to rub at his chin. His failure, while not massive, was simply not acceptable his own standards and his was sure his Master would have likewise said as much. He had to redeem himself in some way, show that he was still an excellent Jedi learner even if his saber deflection skills needed some work and lucky for him, Dusty had coincidentally provided him with an opportunity to do so. He couldn't pass that up, not when it had been offered to him at such a timely moment. Yes, there was a certain danger to it which made him perhaps a little nervous deep down, but he was confident he could handle it. He just had to.

"... I like it," Athos decided, fighting not to grin as his eyes glided up and down Dusty's prize, "I like where your head's at.," He looked to the clone expectantly, "Though now I'm not quite sure how to incorporate this lovely piece of tech into my routine."

"Way ahead of you, Sir," Dusty turned to look up at the control room, "Hey Doc, I've already set up the exercise, so would you mind activating it for me?"

"Absolutely not!" Doc denied vehementently, peering down at them "Dusty, you and I both know that if you score a direct hit on the Commander with that thing, you'll reduce him to paste. There is no way I'm just gonna sit back and let it happen!"

"And it won't," Dusty crouched, hands reaching for the Launcher, "As much like with the Z-6, I modified it to ensure that no serious or lasting damage would be exacted beyond maybe a couple of first-degree burns and whatever the walls or floor might do should the Commander be thrown into any of them. It took me awhile, and I had to recruit Starboard to help me with the finer aspects of the tech, but we've tested it and are both confident it will work. Of course, I'm going to have to see him about getting it changed back to it's original state when all is said and done which will almost certainly be a pain, but it'll all be worth it if this goes well. Furthermore, the Commander is a Jedi, so if anybody has a chance at avoiding the blasts, he does. Plus, again, you're a medical professional, so I'm sure that you can more than handle it if anything goes wrong."

"I..." Doc collapsed back into his chair, heaving a deep breath, "As you say then. What's the code?"

"TS-3759-03. Once you've entered that in, push the square-shaped red button located on the monitor above you before pulling down on the second to last of the rightmost lever located on the console to your left."

The faint sound of fingers tapping against the keyboard, a clink, and than a mild electronic purr. "And... done. Phase Three initiated."

Immediately, he watched as the panels all along the room distended and slid, several pieces of the flooring revealed to house repulsorlifts which sent them slowly raising up into the air one-by-one, eventually arranging themselves into a path that could be walked through a series of acrobatics. Not all were still however, as several set about floating up and down while others moved from left to right and back again, adding another layer of difficulty to the challenge being unveiled. Simultaneously, the walls gave way to present grating underneath, perfect for climbing upwards or side-to-side, examples of which both were present now as he continued to watch a once static room become infinitely more dynamic then it once had been. Finally, a small hook sallied out of a ceiling tile in the very middle of the room and from it hung a small, rough spun brown pouch.

"Okay..." Doc took in the changes to the room with an air of mild apprehension, "Dusty, as creator of... whatever this is, would you please share what the objective of the exercise is with the rest of the class?"

"Sure thing good buddy." Dusty regarded Athos as he turned lightly to more directly face the young Jedi, a carefree air to his movements. "The objective is simple enough; climb to the ceiling of the room using these platforms while dodging fire from my Launcher and once there, collect the pouch I have tied to the hook before safely returning to the ground below. Oh, and don't get shot. That part is really important. Any questions Sir?"

"Uh, yeah," Athos answered, having since beaten down the wave of surprise that had hit him full force and already trying to map his way to the top, "What's in the pouch?"

"Eh, nothing much." Dusty had turned away, setting down the Z-6, as he lifted the massive launcher up with a muffled groan, muscles straining under the armor to hold it's incredible weight. Dusty was a trained heavy weapons specialist, but this was a challenge even for him. There was a reason this sort of weapon was usually mounted on a bipod or a vehicle, after all. "Just a couple of stacks of sheet metal roughly the size of some credit chits I... liberated from Engineering. I wouldn't expect them get upset and come looking for them though, these thing are about a dime a dozen and I even overheard one of the workers complaining that they had too many, so I figured they wouldn't mind if I were to lighten their load a bit."

"You stole from the Engineers?!" Doc's voice rang out, dismayed.

"No, I didn't steal anything, I just took what I needed without asking if I could and didn't specify when I would return them." Dusty began running through final checks to make sure the weapon was combat ready, "There's a big difference."

"Okay, that's all I needed to know." Athos broke in before an argument over the nuances of thievery could start, " Just try not to legitamently hit me with that thing. Modifications or not, I'd rather not be vaporized if I can help it."

Dusty merely chuckled, "I don't need to send a lob of plasma straight at you to make you feel it's effects, that's one of the beautiful things about heavy weapons," He drew his feet apart, settling in a ready stance, "But I'll take it under advisement, Sir."

"How kind of you to do that for me friend." Athos snarked good-naturedly before hollering upwards as he sauntered up to an imagined 'starting line'. "Doc, begin the countdown!"

"Right away, Sir," Doc leaned forward to better his view, fingers resting against the rim of the control panel. "One."

Athos bent his knees as his left foot slide forward while not far away, Dusty brought the barrel of his new gun up, sights trained on the area around where the first platform was levitating as both made final preparations for their specific roles.

"Two."

They both tensed, Athos eyeing the first platform to his imminent ascent while the clone behind him was boring holes into his back, fingers slowly slithering over the grip to settle against the trigger as the only Jedi present felt his Force signature flare with anticipation one again. Athos twitched, a split second of uncertainty piercing through him, but it was quickly smothered by his sense of confidence. He could do this. He was going to do this.

"... Three!"

He burst into a dash, flying towards his target as fast as his feet could carry him, vaguely hearing the sound of a weapon being charged up in preparation to be fired some ways behind him. He was releasing himself into the Force all the while, calling on it to nourish his body and augment his abilities, making him faster, stronger, and more durable, just as Master Vesus had taught him.

Not even a second after jumping towards what was to be his first piece of flooring which would eventually lead to the top, he felt hot air buffet passed as a loud explosion and a paroxysm of blazing blue plasma danced beneath him before abruptly disappearing, leaving a massive scorch mark easily able to accommodate at least three people standing side by side in it's wake. 'There's the first shot.' Athos thought, glancing back at the ground below 'Four more.'

Simultaneously, the power drawn from the Force propelling his movements was assisted by rush of kinetic energy from the blast which threw which him even further upwards, and he overshot his target a little. He used acrobatics to compensate, rolling into no less than two consecutive front flips before his feet touched the ground before he was sprinting across to the next stop hovering just above him and then turning to his left after which he launched himself into an adjacent wall and set about climbing upwards. A second later, he had to clench hard as the hovering floor panel he'd been standing on only a moment ago rocked to the side as a charge of searing blue plasma rocketed into the collided with it, sending it listing off to the side even as the internal systems struggled to correct it's course. A moment later, it was back where it used to be, through partially burned black and at a rather crooked angle compared to how it used to be. 'Second shot down, three more to go."

He surged upward, scaling the climbable wall hand-over-hand while his feet moved to occupy the holes his fingers had once dug into if only for a short time. With the aid of the Force, he found himself bolting upwards at a pace even professional climbers and individuals in pristine physical condition would struggle to match. He was almost at the top when yet another ball of energy impacted upon the segment of wall he'd been at only moments before some feet below him, after which he clamped on ever harder to the wall even as it rattled and vibrated, threatening to shake him off if he loosened his grip even a little. Thankfully, the sensation was short lived and he was able to make it the rest of the way up only a few seconds later. 'And that would be the third shot, only two more left.'

He kicked off, launching himself in reverse towards where he knew a safe landing was waiting for him and then breaking into a backward roll as he touched down upon it before whipping around and skittering across it. His next platform was perfectly sideways, sitting at a 90 degree angle and stretching on for so long that no normal person could have hoped to try and cross it without falling.

Fortunately, Athos wasn't normal.

Wasting not a single moment, he leapt upon it and continued running, using the Force to keep himself plodding forward as far along as he could, closing the distance to the next platform within a handful of seconds through an athletic feat that shouldn't have been possible and yet was happening right at this moment. Indeed, had he been paying more attention, he might have heard Doc breathlessly murmur "No way.", but was too caught up in what he was doing to pay much attention to anything other than trying not to fall at that time.

But even then, as he did a quick evaluation of his situation, he knew it wasn't enough. If he'd been taller, he would have likely reached the end and stepped off the wall onto the floor with little to no problem, but he'd been being born small and that was working against him as of right then. He drew even further from the Force, trying to latch to the wall as best as he was able, but it could only keep him up for so long before his strength failed him and he would be sent plummeting to failure. He was going to come up short, and the only hope he had was to make another jump for it.

As his left foot scraped against the bottom rim, he focused all the energy he'd accumulated into his feet and pushed off just as yet another salvo of blue smashed into his general location. This time however, it was aimed in such a way that it destabilized Athos and nearly ruined his timing. He glided as far as he as was able, flipping in an effort to get even just that little bit more air time, but even through his desperation to safely touchdown upon his intended destination, he was distantly aware that he wasn't going to plant his feet on this one. He watched even as he was falling in it's direction as his feet, his legs, and finally his waist were parallel to it, before feeling the air evacuate his lungs as his sternum rammed full force into the edge.

He clawed along the surface to no avail before he found himself dangling off the lip and relying on his grip strength not to fall. He paused a moment before battling through the pain to push himself over the edge then roll onto it with the aid of the Force. Kneeling and taking a small breather, he focused on the ache in his midsection and attempted to accurately judge the damage, finding given it's lack of intensity, this was the kind of stinging sensation which he was sure he was going to be feeling for a few moments longer, but would probably disappear almost immediately after that. 'Second to last shot and the closest yet, which leaves only one more...'

"Commander, you alright?!" Doc, as evidenced by the electric twinge of sound being filtered through technology accompanying the words.

"I'm fine," Athos gasped, slowly rising back to his feet as his eyes scanned his next obstacle; a small staircase. Good, he needed something relatively easy after all that. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." He began lightly jogging up to the first step, "We're continuing with the exercise."

"You sure you want to do that, Sir?" The sound of Dusty's voice reached him from below, trying to sound lighthearted, but Athos' could feel the slight concern emanating from him.

"Positive, now stop worrying about me and start thinking about where to place your last shot," Athos took that moment to look down and felt a slight pang of immediate regret as he registered how high up off the ground he was now. Yeah, looking down was a mistake, he realized. Maybe not as bad as peering over the edge of a mountain, but he was pretty he was gonna end up looking much worse than Chief probably did if he fell from here and didn't make use of the Force in assisting his landing.

As he reached the last step, he turned to see that stretching before him was a perfectly aligned bridge, made so that he would not have to so much as hop across even once while he was traversing it. And at the end, hanging just out, a reach, his prize was waiting for him. Beyond it on the other side was a last singular square of flooring, floating about in it's own space and disconnected from every other piece of the path he'd climbed up here. The distance would have been untenable for the average person, but not somebody who could gain strength from the power which bound the galaxy and all who live in it together.

He took a deep breath, having fully recovered from his minor spill a level below, and lifted his right foot into the air in a bid to advance but froze mid-step before lowering it back to where it had been previously. A seemingly straight path right to his goal? Too easy. Everything about it reeked of a trap. But what the trap? His eyes darted around, trying to find something on the walls, floors, and ceiling but came up empty, as nothing he could see hinted at anything untoward and the Force was not of much help when it came to the reading the intentions of synthetic and robotic beings. He brief check-up on the clones bore no fruit as Doc seemed to be in the dark as he was and Dusty's feelings didn't tell him anything he didn't already know or suspect. He could tell the next shot was about to come just by fleetingly gracing Dusty's unshielded mind but that he was waiting for a certain point to occur before he used it, something else Athos didn't know.

The only possible source of danger left would be the path itself, which gave him a clue as to what to prepare for. What was it his Master would have said in a situation like this? "A path may appear easy, but ease often comes with an unspoken price to be payed at considerable personal cost. That is the folly of the Sith, for many amongst them believed they could take the most immediate path to power with no repercussions whatsoever, and so either didn't know or didn't care about what they stood to lose in gaining it. Trust not your eyes, but the Force to guide you through uncertainty and guard you against deceit." Yeah, that seems kind of Jedi-like. Well, if the only way to unveil a trap was to walk into it, then he guessed he was walking.

He haunched down, then streaked forward and almost immediately felt the way beneath his feet begin to shudder ominously. He reached the next section of the bridge just as it finally gave and commenced falling towards the ground at a rapid speed, but there was no rest to be had for even as he reached what he thought would be a stable part of the path, but then that too became unsteady. That was the trap; he couldn't walk this bridge and expect to pass, so if he wanted to have any chance of making it, he would have to run.

He didn't hesitate after that, pushing himself ever forward, undaunted by the instability of the bridge or the uncertainty of if he could push off with enough power to make the jump, absently nothing the way the previous segment he stepped would disappear almost as soon as he moved his foot. Again, his smaller size was slowing him some, but he was still moving at a rapid enough pace that he could keep just ahead of the curve and stay on target. He almost didn't register when he reached the ramp but the next he knew, he was flying through the air towards the pouch, right hand outstretched as he came ever closer to ending this for good.

Just a little closer...

Just a little...

…There!

His hand clasped around his prize and for a moment, time seemed to slow as a feeling of weightlessness overtook him, his fingers tracing around the coarse brown material at a speed measuring a couple of seconds rather than just half of one. Gently, his fingers tightened around the sack, and maneuvered his wrist so that it would smoothly slip off the hook. Once he had it, he brought to closer, securing what he held to him even as his sight moved to the platform on the other side, where he was aiming to land now that he had what he came for. Even now, he could feel the little tablets inside the bag and true to what he'd been told, they felt just like credit chits. Time sped back up as a part the ceiling less then ten yards from the hook opposite of the way he was going combusted into azure fire and again he felt himself get thrown faster than he'd anticipated he'd be going. 'Last shot, he's out.' A moment of relief found Athos, but it was quickly punctuated by the fact that the ground was coming up fast and he could hang around the air defying gravity forever. He needed to keep moving, and move he did.

He adjusted his trajectory, aware that he couldn't stick the landing as he'd previously intended, but he could certinaly turn it into a spin that would keep him on track without sending him too far over.

His legs buckled upon contact with his target, and just as he planned, he redistributed his weight to compensate. When he came to a complete stop, he was on the very edge of the opposite of the panel, and needed only to tilt his head a little to get a full view of the floor so far below. He glanced around, trying to find where he should go next and how he was to get down when a buzzing reached his ears, and he redirected his vision left to see that another bridge was sliding out to greet him, though this one lead directly to an access doorwhich would take him into the control room.

It appeared he was finished, a sentiment which was proven correct when he heard Dusty call up to him, You did it, better than I could have hoped for as well!" A pause, "Starboard is going to freak when I tell him how it went down!"

After crossing through, he turned left again through another door which brought him right into the control room, just in time to see Doc press on the intercom button with his index finger even as he was concurrently running the test data. "Well then, we should finish here so that I can hurry back to the Med Bay and prepare some tranquilizers for him." It was a joke, which was good to see after the constant mental gymnastics he'd been putting himself through worrying over his Commander.

Athos deposited his bag on top of the nearest control console to the right of the door and then leaned upon Doc's chair checking what the system had just compiled and going over his own results. It was good. No, it was beyond good... But maybe it could be better. "Actually, I'm thinking Starboard and his possible tranquilizers may have to wait."

Doc's head whipped around to look at him, and he was met with a wide, pearly-white smile. "Sir, what are you...?!"

Athos bent further, placing his own finger upon the intercom button once taken up by Doc, and projected his own voice into the room below. "Hey Dusty, how do we reset the exercise? I'm feeling like a second try is in order... So it appears you get to hold onto that Launcher of yours for just a little longer.

Athos was pretty sure Dusty's following cry of unabashed joy could be heard from two or more rooms over.


Jihehl

"Perhaps it would have been better not let you keep that thing." Master Mace Windu lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought off a wave of weariness, "I should have turned it over to the Shadows for summery destruction when I had the chance."

"But you didn't." Jihehl reminded his old friend, fingers folded in his lap.

Mace had always been the more cautious between the two of them, the more suspicious. He was always careful never to let his guard down in the face of the Dark Side or artifacts and items imbued with it's unsavory power, seeking only ever their destruction or imprisonment while keeping them far out of reach from those who would abuse their powers. He did not know what many of them did nor did he care to find out, for as far he was concerned, such objects and what secrets they contained were little more than poison for the mind and soul. Never once had he wavered by considering the power it could give him or the secrets it could enlighten him to, and shunned any such offer or impulse otherwise. Some would have called it dogmatic to the point of foolishness, but others would recognize it to be an exemplary display of self-control and dedication to the Light Side of the Force.

For Jihehl, it was different.

While others may have been satisfied with keeping themselves unapprised, Jihehl wanted more than that. He desired answers, even of the sort others did not have the smallest drive to understand. To him, every beginning must have an end and every day-cycle must also have a contrasting night-cycle. Never should one be pleased with an unproven answer nor give themselves over to hearsay and myth, but strive in all things to uncover only the truth, no matter how disturbing or scandalous it may be. After all, there is no ignorance, there is only knowledge. Isn't that right? Jihehl thought so, for if it meant enlightening himself, then he was all too willing to go places few other Jedi would have dared to think of treading.

"But I didn't." Mace sighed, regarding the Mireluka Master through the Holocomm, "And so, now I have yet another headache to contend with."

"We, Mace." That was how it was when it was just the two of them; not Master Windu nor Master Vesus, but Mace and Jihehl. When surrounded by peers and subordinates, proper courtesy must be observed as dictated by tradition. But in private, away from eyes and ears who would peep and pry, such rules need not be observed depending on the subject and those discussing it. Kind of like now. "We have another headache to contend with. Well, not that I consider it as such; this is actually quite fascinating to me."

"Well, that makes one of us," Mace remarked, shifting his feet, "Let's take this from the top. Would you please remind me of the last time you received yet another vision from that artifact?" Gesturing to the amulet still clasped between Jihehl's hands. Jihehl made to reply, but found himself cut off just as he was opening his mouth. "An instructive vision." Mace emphasized before Jihehl could actually get a word out. "Today does not count."

"From a certain point of view, that is very much disputable." Jihehl leaned back in his chair,

"On it's disputability, we are agreed," Mace replied, ever the cynic, "But one factor of the discussion at a time, if you would."

"After today, it will have been about a month." Jihehl proclaimed after a moment, struggling to keep a frown from crossing his face. "They stopped just after Geonosis and perhaps more intriguingly, the emergence of the Sith."

"A month, and at the same time as our age-old enemies resurface. Sounds to me like it could be more than coincidence." Mace reiterated, to which Jihehl nodded. Indeed the timing was far too perfect. "At any rate, this was the longest you've ever gone without receiving anything. Until now, that is. Why might that be?"

"Well, it's possible I could have just reached the last of the information stored inside. That said, something about it feels... unfinished." Jihehl speculated, looking thoughtful. "It's like there is this big hole in the middle of my repertoire where the rest of the skills I have yet to learn should be, but there is nothing there."

"Well, from what I've seen and you've told me, it might be that this pendent works like a Holocron in that it stores lessons on the art of wielding a lightsaber or understanding the Force as well as recounts of past, present, and future people, places or events. Also like a Holocron however, it is based on the opinions, outlooks, and counsel of the one who made it, so it can be incomplete, biased, or even outright wrong. Therefore, the person who preserved what's within there could have been still in the midst of pioneering the study when they recorded it..." Mace looked at Jihehl expectantly.

"Rather than giving us a finished copy." Jihehl finished, apprasing the pendent once more. "And based on the fact that this craftsmanship is from sometime around the time of the Old Republic, I could see why. Back then, Sith were dropping by the dozens practically every other minute, so the person who created this was likely afraid that they would die before they completed their work."

"I would say that their fear was well-founded, if you have indeed reached the last lesson." Mace noted, crossing his arms, "But be that as it may, we can't be certain that the being who created that didn't also make another or even a few more copies of what you have, either as backups to what you are holding there in case it's lost or destroyed, or as the continuation to the instruction you have received thus far presuming they did indeed finish what they were inventing."

So you're saying there could be more out there?" Jihehl questioned.

More than just this one? Now there was a displeasing thought, for while the pendant he had was safely in his hands and well out of the clutches of Dooku or his cohorts, the probability of others existing meant they could still well discover some of the secrets he had learned. And unlike Jihehl, who tried to temper things as well as he could without sacrificing efficiency or authenticity, they would have no such inhibitions. Maybe it would not be felt immediately or very largely, but the ramifications of such a thing occurring would be dire indeed, and that would be quite unacceptable.

"I'm saying that I have no real way of knowing, as this is all entirely theoretical. Either way, what I've seen thus far is rather troubling." Mace answered.

"And why would that be?" Jihehl cocked an eyebrow, setting an arm on the table before him.

"I think you know as well as I. The bladework you demonstrated when we last met previously was wild to such an incredible degree that I would stuggle to even call it a proper form of lightsaber combat. Even Form 1, at it's most raw, was more disciplined and orderly than that. What you showed me had the hallmarks of Juyo in that it's offense was overwhelming, but the minimum amount of emotional heat needed to properly wield it was twice as strong. Furthermore, it lacked finesse and it's defense was practically nonexistent." Mace elaborated with brutal honesty. "I can scarcely imagine anyone deploying that in combat as it is and doing especially well in the long-term or even the somewhat short-term provided the Form's practitioner was properly trained and very much sane, so I'm inclined to believe this variant style either wasn't finished yet or had been the handy work of someone so emotionally tormented, it's difficult for me to imagine they were able to even function as a person. Then again, perhaps that too might be a reason for it's present form; that the mind of wielder must be so fractured and haunted, their opponent cannot attempt to read their movements and gain a step ahead in the fight without risking losing themselves in their madness. From what I can tell, it's like the creator was trying to turn their own psychosis into a weapon, assisted by the power of the Dark Side. Creative and bold, but also sloppy and unreliable, not to mention so unfathomably dangerous and stupid that I'm surprised it even works at all."

It was true. The style had been rough to say the least, and he'd realized as much from his very first vision of it. It had potential, but needed to be honed and further modified to be of any practical use in a real-life combat situation and as used by a someone who wasn't a complete loon. Luckily, between himself and the expertise of Master Windu, most of what he'd seen had been cultivated so that he could use it without risking immediate death the second things stopped going his way or because he otherwise failed to meet the typical criteria. For Jihehl's part, He was infinitely glad that he could count the premier user of Form VII within the Jedi Order as a close colleague, as he was uncertain he could have made such progress without the help he'd been given. Now, the variant of the Form they'd developed together was nearly complete and more or less ready for battle.

Still, Mace had made him promise to be judicial in exercising it beyond a controlled environment, as its pull towards darkness was even stronger than that of the typical variant of Juyo and not all the kinks had been fully worked out. Truthfully, Jihehl didn't know how well he would be able to keep that promise now that a war had kicked off, but he was inclined to try. He owed Mace that much, at the very least.

"Speaking of our mysterious creator, were you able to uncover any further information on them?" Jihehl asked, fingers trailing the soft leather of his chair's armrests.

Mace nodded after a moment, brow furrowing in thought, "Not much, but some. The trail leads back to a rogue Sith by the name of 'Darth Nocturnas' who as you said mentioned quite correctly, lived during the time of the Old Republic. And before you ask, no, I don't know anything else about this person at the current time. Race, age, gender, homeworld, and the exact specifics of where, when, why, and how they died all escape me... though the texts did give a vague implication that the Jedi and Sith Order both had hand in their death." He interrupted Jihehl before even the first syllable of the sentence he had prepared could pass the Mireluca Master's lips. "I also don't have any additional information on exactly which Jedi Knights or Sith Warriors were involved either, but not for lack of trying. What about you? Anything you wish to share?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact," Jihehl tilted his head as he regarded the Jedi Council Member who hailed from Haruun Kal with eyes which did not see in a way that could be at all considered conventional, " I believe this 'Nocturnas' was a woman, as upon reviewing some of my prior visions, I attempted to recall exactly what the fighter within them looked like. Unfortunately, I too do not know exact age and race as she was wearing a mask, but the shape of her figure informed me that she was likely both female and either Human or Near Human."

"Hm, duly noted." Mace grunted, "In other news, I also combed through the Jedi Archives a second time to see if I could find anything you might have missed on your run through it, but that also failed to pan out. No disrespect to the venerable Madame Nu, but it seems she was once again wrong about the Archives containing all relevant information on literally everything in the galaxy."

Jihehl straightened in his seat, "By chance, you didn't give Madame Nu any reason to suspect...?"

"Of course I didn't," Mace snapped brusquely, " As far as she knows, I was looking for more information the Order could use to combat Dooku and when we find him, his Master." Even without saying it outright, Jihehl knew from the tone that Mace wanted to say so much more about what he thought of this situation in it's entirety, but he held his tongue, simply glaring as a way to make his feelings known instead. It was the first hints of an old argument that they'd been having for years now, and one that Jihehl knew he would have to eventually outright lose for the good of both the Jedi Order and Jihehl himself by Mace's reckoning. For now, he kept quiet on behalf of his friend's wishes as well as his own small amount of curiosity on how deep this particular rabbit hole went, but Mace's role in this was continually grating on him nonetheless. He was getting tired of lying not just to the Order, but the other Council members as well. And while he hadn't said it directly as of yet, there was no denying that he was beginning to feel as though Jihehl was taking advantage of his trust by prolonging things as long as he had.

The sad part was that after a fashion, Jihehl was, but not for the reasons one may think. Yes, a large part of it was for the research in the hopes that what he discovered might benefit the next generation of Jedi, but there was something else motivating him... That part of him that wanted, no, needed a piece of the past to hang on to, something to remind him of his failure, something to remind him of her-

No.

He couldn't go there right now, not when there was still work to be done.

Breathing deep, Jihehl centered himself, using several decades of instruction in the ways of the Force to bring himself fully into the present.

"Oh, good...I'm glad." Jihehl relaxed, feeling relieved.

"Yes, I'm sure you are." Mace made no attempt to hide his displeasure that statement.

"Well anyway, I'm sure we shall find something more eventually," Jihehl continued, pretending he didn't notice, "It's a big galaxy out there; someone or something must have the information we seek. We only need be patient. However, I fear we've gotten off track. I do believe it's high time we dig into the meat of this discussion as well as the reason I called in the first place; what was the meaning behind tonight's vision and what is the most plausible explanation as to why it happened?"

"That's not too hard to puzzle out," Mace looked into Jihehl's eyeless face,"It did what most artifacts of the Dark Side do when they come in contact with beings who have not fully embraced it; the pendent pinpointed your weaknesses and tried to exploit them, using the pain you've endured and the losses you have suffered to start tormenting your conscience, hoping to twist you into accepting the Dark Side one way or another."

"That wasn't the answer I was hoping for." Jihehl sighed, voice quieting as he replayed what Not-Yalla had said to him, trying and failing to ignore the accompanying small stab of grief.

"But it is the only one that truly makes sense." Mace retorted, eyebrow raising, "Unless of course, you have a another idea?" He then paused as he always did when he was about to speak of Yalla, "... You didn't teach her how to return did you?"

"No!" Jihehl had been startled by the question and so replied with more force than he'd intended, "I mean no, no I didn't. We, um..." He swallowed hard, already struggling to speak her, "I wanted to take more time to work her on lightsaber skills before we moved on to the especially intensive aspects of my curriculum, so we never..." He couldn't say any more, not without losing it. That was just one more in a long line of mistakes he made, one more that he wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself for.

"I see." Was Mace's rather neutral rejoinder, neither comforting nor judgmental.

"Pardon me for asking me this but... are we sure she's truly dead?" Jihehl felt like a moron the moment he asked that question, but at that moment, the tiny part of him still stuck in denial and eager to believe that this aspect of his life was all just a lie no matter how unlikely that may seem just wouldn't keep quite. "It's just... I..."

"Jihehl," Mace softened his tone almost imperceptibly, and while most people even on the Council wouldn't have spotted the difference, Jihehl was one the few people who could, "You were there when she died, so you felt her fully become one with the Force first-hand. And both Master Yoda and I were present at her funeral, standing nearly the entire time, so we all saw her being lowered into her final resting place. I'm sorry, but she really is gone. If would search your feelings, you would know what I say is true."

Indeed, if he focused, he could feel three strands of energy connected to him through the Force and the ghost of a fourth where a meeting of two beings had been forever lost.

The first string was well-worn but still held strong, being the eldest of the formed bonds. This one, Jihehl knew, lead to his old Jedi Master, Yoda. It had been some time since the connection had been used by either of them, as they each had their respective duties to carry out these days which kept them quite busy, but still it was far from neglected or forgotten on Jihehl's end. He knew that if he wished it, he could but reach out and his Master would reply in an instant.

The second was pulled taught, unbending and unbroken, not a microfiber out of place and not a single weakness anywhere on the link itself. However, much tension came from either end of the connection and so put much stress upon the thread, but still it held out against the pressure. It was also the thickest and most constantly used in recent days, belonging to none other than his current conversational, Master Mace Windu himself. Yes, while usually bonds such as these most commonly formed between Master and Apprentice, and it could also form between very close colleagues who worked together constantly. Plus, Mace had been schooling him in Form VII, so it was only natural that somewhere along the way, a tie would come to be formed.

The third and most recent was bonded him to his 'new' Padawan, Athos Semper. On Jihehl's end, it was well-kept but somewhat untouched, being somewhat underused but also not weak. Athos' end on the other hand showed signs of constant communication traveling to Jihehl from it, often letting him know what his Padawan was doing or about to do at any given time, for the boy was all too eager to let his Master know of his activities at least some of the time.

The fourth space used to be occupied by the presence Yalla Laylee, but since her death it has become little more than a hole which could not be filled not matter what he did or didn't do. Still, he had the memory of what used to be there which acted like a sort of spiritual phantom pain that wouldn't let him forget about what he could never recover. He tried to ignore it, tried to block it out, but whenever he let his attention wander for even a second while he was perusing the strings, the scar he did everything he could to ignore would be quick to step in and remind him of its presence. It was a shadow hellbent on following him for all eternity, and he didn't know how to shake it within the confines of this life.

"Which brings us back to my hypothesis," Mace appeared to have watched all this, and no longer appeared content to let his friend wallow in gloomy thoughts, "That the artifact has not only recognized the alignment of its bearer, but also discovered chinks in the armor it may use to it's advantage."

"You speak like it's sentient."

"An object need not be self-aware to carry malevolent intentions, especially an object once owned by a Sith." Mace braced himself for what he knew he had say next. "Which is why even though I'm well aware I have mentioned this to you several times in the past, I must once more ask that you hand the pendant over for summery destruction once and for all." Jihehl's feelings on the matter must have betrayed him, for next heard, "Don't give me that look; this is as much about your wellbeing as it protecting both the Jedi and the Republic from a threat most dark. Do you think I haven't noticed? That you've slept only fitfully for years even before the war came? How some days you skip meals not because you're too busy, but because when she's on your mind, you can't bring yourself to swallow even a single bite? Maybe how you are a Master to your Padawan when it comes to teaching him the physical aspects of being a Jedi and berating his behavior, but you refuse to open yourself up to him and so leave him bereft of the opportunity to learn not just from your teachings but from your losses, gains, triumphs, and mistakes as well?"

"I took him on at your insistence." Jihehl argued, latching on to the one thing he felt like he could contest.

"And I recommended him to you because I believed he could help to finally start healing your wounds," Mace's voice was calm, but Jihehl could feel the sharp edge beneath it, "But you continue to shut him out while desperately clinging on to a piece of metal as though one day it will suddenly solve all your problems and take the pain away. Somedays, I think Knight Noza is doing better than you are and his loss was that much more recent."

"If that's what you think, than maybe you should go and pester him about his Padawan." Jihehl growled, and then flinched at his own words, horrified that he'd let himself express even that much anger to one of his own friends. The veritable anger... he could be hot-headed, yes, but he still knew better then to speak to another person, let alone a Council Member like that.

"There it is." Mace's tone was cold now, and Jihehl knew that he to snap like that again would be crossing the line, "Another thing I've noticed especially in the more recent months is that whenever I bring up doing away with the pendent, no matter how measured your answer, it is always accompanied by a grain of resentment. Your mind may be well-shielded, but I know you well enough to read your face, and I know what I saw. You are becoming possessive of it to a degree that is more than a little unhealthy, and that worries me greatly, Jihehl. Finally, there are these outbursts you've been having with me of late, as you demonstrated to me now..."

"Mace there's nothing wrong. Trust me, I'm fine." Jihehl tried to insist reassuringly, but the words sounded hollow even to him, "I'm just a little cranky is all, otherwise I'm in full control of my faculties."

"And you will continue to be until you suddenly aren't." Mace countered unflinchingly, "Because as is life's way, maybe very soon or very long from now, something shall happen which will shake you to your very core and when you turn to the Force for strength and guidance, you will find only darkness waiting for you. Then Master Yoda, the clones, other Jedi including myself, and even Athos, we all become pawns to be used or obstacles to be destroyed."

"I would never-!" Jihehl began to protest vehemently, appalled at the mere implication.

"The Jihehl I'm speaking to right now wouldn't, but one who has been corrupted by the Dark Side wouldn't think twice about it. In fact, he might even grow to enjoy it."

Mace was reminding him of some very harsh realties he didn't want to face, and cutting off his every avenue of argument one-by-one. Unsure of what else to do, he stalled, trying to think of a sufficient comeback, 'I..." At that moment, he was saved by a timely intervention which came in the form of Force signatures approaching his office, "Someone is coming."

"Who?" Mace queried.

"It's..." He closed in on what he sensed and his answer came not a moment later, "My top officer and one of his men."

"Then it seems this conversation is over, at least for now. Make no mistake however, the days that pendent remains in your care are numbered. You know I value your friendship, Jihehl, but the safety of the Republic must always come first, and if preserving it means that I must save you from yourself, than so be it..." With little else to say, Mace cut the call, leaving Jihehl alone once again.

But not for long as someone knocked twice upon his door.

Jihehl took a shaky breath to steady himself before hastily pulling the pendent back under his robes, smoothing them over as he shifted in his seat and brought his hand up to rest upon his desk. "Come in!"

The door slid open to reveal two clones, both bedecked in the white and purple armor of the 433rd and carrying their helmets.

The first to step through the door bore the rank of Commander and had a pair of DC-17 hand blasters strapped to either hip as well as the hilt of a vibroknife peeking out from his belt just behind one of the guns. With a clean-shaven face, hair that has been buzzed short, wearing armour which had been meticulously cleaned above and beyond the bear minimum required of a solder of the Galactic Republic, and standing perfectly straight as was to be expected of someone who bore such a high rank, this was none other than CT-8103, also known as 'Preacher'.

Standing just behind him was CT-9842, or 'Starboard', one of the Tech Troopers assigned to the 433rd and Preacher's protégé of sorts, something the Clone Commander had picked up from watching Jihehl and Athos. Starboard differed from all of his brothers in that he was 'born defective' as it were, with blue eyes rather than brown and slightly decelerated aging which as of now physically placed him in his late teens and not than early twenties as with everybody else as well as having the side effect of giving him an air of youth and dare Jihehl say it, perhaps even a little innocence. He had also dyed his hair brown as opposed to the typical black and wore it longer than most and appeared somewhat more slender than most clones. Normally, a Clone who differed as much as Starboard did in appearance would be summarily terminated as a result of bearing the marks of imperfect cloning, but had been saved by the intervention of Preacher, who argued that his intelligence was an asset that the Army couldn't afford to waste and that even if he looked different, he could still follow orders just as well as any of his brothers. The Kaminoans, taken aback by such fierce resistance from normally so obedient and disciplined a clone, finally relented after careful consideration but made it clear that this was to be a one-time favor and would not occur ever again. While one hand was occupied by his helmet, Starboard's other held his DC-15S, fingers wrapped around the hilt and muzzle pointed down. On his back was a pack full of various electronic devices and at his side sat a DC-17 as a back-up weapon.

"Sir!" Preacher came to a stop before Jihehl's desk and executed a flawless salute, Starboard standing behind him but doing his best to show equal respect even with both hands full.

"At ease, Commander," Jihehl did an excellent job of disguising the turmoil he'd been feeling only moments before, appearing to be the collected Jedi General he always looked to be around his men. "What can I do for you?"

"Admiral Gyureft wishes to see you on the Bridge, General." Preacher informed him, "We have arrived at our destination and are now on approach to Tar Torgrias."


Okay, so due to any number of things, but I've been gone a bit, but I'm back now so there's that. I was thinking of making this chapter even longer, but I wanted to keep things somewhat compartmentalized and felt like I was dragging the wait out long enough as it was. I'm also sorry if Mace was a bit OOC, but I think I was able to do what I wished without changing him from his original character too drastically. At any rate, I hope you guys like or can at least stand him, because we will be seeing him again at some point before this is over.

In other news, I think I've made a decision on my idea for the Old Republic SYOC, but more on that later.

Also for those of you still thinking of sending another clone or two in, I will tell you now that I can accept a one PM long profile, but the sender needs to use almost or all of the 8000 characters allotted to them. If it's so short that I don't need to scroll even a little to read all of it, than you probably still have more to write.

Also, for those of you who have been enjoying my story, please check out 'An Era of Kings' by A Terrific Acorn, the creator also responsible for making our very own Jihehl Vesus, for which I cannot thank them enough. I personally have had a blast reading and contributing to their story and I sincerely hope you will as well.

Speaking of which, please also consider taking a look at 'Fall of the West' by Rougefication along with their latest finished work, 'STAR WARS; Fall of the Order'. I for one have also deeply enjoyed their work and hope you will too, as the storytelling is absolutely phenomenal if I do say so myself.

With all that out of the way, I will be looking forward to reading your reviews. Goodbye for now!