A bald man with a heavily tattooed face stood by the academy gates, in front of a line of boys - and they were almost entirely boys - waiting to be judged. I later knew him to be the overseer of the entire academy, though at the time I assumed him to be merely one of the instructors.
I had been slinking around Dreshdae for several days, making conversations and there, learning and passing on gossip. The line in front of the academy was a daily occurrence, for the Sith made no organized efforts at recruitment, and this was the main way for hopefuls to join their ranks. Being denied carried no penalty, though the academy would not consider you again for a year afterwards. Nervous, but doing my best to look confident, I joined the tail end.
It was a long line but it moved quickly. One by one, the overseer inspected the boys who came before him; and, without fail, all were sent away, most of the evaluations taking mere seconds. Unsurprising, perhaps, that most who made the trip to Korriban thought their force affinities far more substantial than they were. My heart lurched each time a boy was sent away and I scooted slightly closer to the overseer. I recall the time I spent standing there as among the most agonizing in my life, for I knew that much of my future would be decided in a matter of minutes.
When my turn finally came, the overseer paused as he looked at me - a good sign! - and then looked me searchingly in the face. I met his gaze as best I could, given that we stood outside of Dreshdae, and sand swirled in the cold air outside the academy entrance. It was hard to keep my eyes open. Soon enough, though, his face relaxed into indifference.
"You have a sliver of the force within you, boy" he said. "I won't be wasting a medallion on you. But if you obtain a medallion on your own, I won't stand in your way either." He gestured me out of his sight.
The disappointment hit me like a ton of bricks in the face. Rejected by both Jedi and Sith. What now? Was there any choice besides going back to my family?
I had always believed I was one of those individuals, chosen by fortune, who would play some role, be it good or evil, in the affairs of the galaxy. My force abilities, even not altogether impressive as they were, indicated as much. But I was wrong. Perhaps I was ordinary. Perhaps I was meant neither for great good nor great evil but a great nothing. I felt myself in need of a strong drink.
But was not willing to admit defeat just yet.
A small group of boys, mostly human but with a few aliens of them, were standing off to the side. All rejected by the overseer today, I surmised. They stood watching the process warily, grievance and anger on their faces. After a moment's deliberation, I went to join them.
There were about ten of them. Looking closer, there was a Quarren at the front of the group but the rest were human. A couple gave me some brief nods as I made my way to the back of the group. No words were spoken but there was a sense of camaraderie here. We had all been rejected; we were all in the same boat.
We watched silently as more and more boys presented themselves. The vast majority were dismissed immediately. Without exception, those turned around and left quickly. A few prompted a pause from the overseer, perhaps some back and forth; mostly, the voices were too low to tell what was said. When those were rejected, a good portion left in the direction of the starport, but some went to stand with our group.
The first time I had seen the overseer truly ponder his decision was when a girl presented herself. Tall, blonde, lithe with spiky hair, she looked formidable. I supposed she was attractive, though found her looks to be too harsh to be pleasing to the eyes. Their back and forth lasted some minutes. I could see her face brimming with hope but, eventually, the overseer shook his head.
"Another day," he said loudly, "I might have given you a medallion. But I've had a good augury this morning. Let us see what else the day will bring."
Her face fell flat for a moment before resuming her previous harsh look. Without hesitation, she turned and came to our group, settling just in front of me after giving several of the boys nods as they offered murmurs of condolence.
And then the morning turned into afternoon. More boys, a girl here and there, all rejected. Our group slowly began growing larger.
It was when the afternoon began to turn into evening that I finally saw a smile cross the overseer's face. He was looking over a group of three boys, all tall, well-built, blond-haired, clearly brothers. I was not the only one to notice the change in the overseer's face, for the girl in front of me kicked the floor in frustration. "He found what he was looking for," I heard her mutter to herself.
I strained to hear the words being spoken.
"You have some force affinity within you. No great amount, but some, perhaps more than the average acolyte starting them." The overseer paused and looked each of them in the eyes. As far as I could tell, none of the brothers flinched. "But do you have what it takes to make it in this place? The academy consumes those too meek for it."
There were some sounds of agreement coming from the three brothers in reply. I even heard some cheers. But the overseer did not seem impressed.
"I think not," he said slowly. "Your bravado does not fool me. I sense great hesitation within you."
He was seemingly lost in thought for a moment.
"I'll give out a single medallion today. One. Not more."
The brothers looked at each in confusion.
"The rest of you will have to come back in a year. Today, I'll give the medallion to whoever first brings me the head of one of those rejects over there." He gestured towards where the group of us was standing. "Any one of them will do."
The faces of the three boys registered a surprise as they glanced in our direction. Two of them shared an anxious glance. No one from our group moved so much as a muscle. Perhaps we were hoping this was some sort of joke, a Sith attempt at humor.
"Chop, chop," the overseer said, a cruel little smile crossing his face. "Second head counts for nothing."
And then one of the brothers pulled a sword - did he have a scabbard on this whole time? - and set off in our direction. The other two brothers followed with some delay. Seemingly all at once, the group I was in the midst of scattered, people on the outskirts setting off in every direction, and those in the middle tripping all over each other, falling to the floor, and struggling to get up and run somewhere, anywhere.
As for me, I slowly backed away. I was at the tail end of the group as it was and wanted to keep myself as inconspicuous as possible.
Between the three brothers - all of whom were armed, the other two brothers drawing swords as they ran - and the mass of people from our group who tried to run away only to bump into each other and end up on the floor - it might have been a very bloody massacre indeed. But it was not, for the lead brother stopped and shot out a burst of force lightning at the Quarren, who remained at the front of our group and stuck out like a sore thumb.
In retrospect, it was quite impressive that the lead brother had mastered force lightning on his own without any help from the Sith. What did the overseer say to them? "You have some force affinity within you; no great amount…" Likely he was full of dung, playing one of the mind games force users were known for to motivate his future pupil.
At the time, all I could think about was the smell of charred flesh before me. I assure you, seeing depictions of force lightning on the holovids does not prepare you for the smell, which can be overwhelming. When a master Sith employs it, it can fry the target through and through; but when an initiate does so, it can burn the target all over without actually killing, arguably a crueler fate.
I slowly backed away, keeping to my plan of not attracting attention - though this was particularly difficult with the half-burned Quarren screaming from the burns. I saw the girl pull out her sword and stand her ground, a deadly concentration in her eyes. Brave, I thought, but foolish. The three brothers were clearly stronger. She can have the fight if she wants it.
The lead brother leaped forward - again, some fancy use of the force I'd never seen before! - and instantly, he was in front of the Quarren writhing on the ground. With a quick sweep of the blade, he separated the head, tentacles included, from the body, spraying the rest of us with droplets of blue-ish blood in the process. He picked it up and held it up high.
The overseer nodded indifferently, as if nothing particularly notable had just transpired. "Welcome to the academy, acolyte," he said.