Perhaps I should go back and explain just how it was that I entered the Sith Academy in the first place. I paused my story when that poor Quarren was relieved of his head right in front of me and the other rejects, all of us scrambling over each other to find safety. Reader, you might have (quite reasonably) inferred that was the end of the tale. If so, I'm sorry to report you were misled.

I should say that I expected a scene of of carnage of this sort the moment I landed on the planet. I was under no illusions of what the Sith are or what sort of things they do. Still, even with that expectation in place, I found myself muted into a sense of shock by what transpired. In mere seconds, a life was gone, a consciousness was extinguished, something sacred has been removed from the universe - and all, as far as I could tell, all with no purpose or meaning whatsoever.

I was at a complete loss of what to say or do.

Not so for the girl in front of me. She surveyed the corpse in front of her with a cold determination.

"That was kriffing intense."

I nodded. As it happened, I was the only one standing beside her, all the other rejects having put a safe distance between themselves and the Quarren corpse. But there seemed to be no danger: the three brothers had turned their backs to us and were making their way back to the overseer.

"Shall we get a drink? There's no purpose in standing here now."

I can't remember what I said. I must have agreed, for the next thing I remember, we were in the cantina having that drink.

There were five of us gathered round a table, all rejects who witnessed the carnage in front of the academy gates, and all presumably invited by that girl. I seemed to be the most affected by what had happened. The rest of them, while they suffered some amount of shock, were soon talking about the new admit to the academy with undisguised admiration.

I only remember the general outline of the conversation from that evening. I remember that we shared our stories as we drank from a cask of Ryll beer that was as repulsive as it was cheap. The girl was called Lashowe; the boys had names I forget. All of them human, they exhibited force sensitivity as children, by the sounds of it much stronger than mine. All of them could levitate objects and some could even use the force to throw projectiles across the room.

I tried as best as I could, to talk up my own force powers. I do not know if they caught on to my exaggerations, for it was clear to me that I was by far the weakest member of the group as far the force was concerned. By and large, I was happy to slink into the background as they traded stories of their accomplishments. Perhaps they were exaggerating themselves. If these were the typical people who came to audition for the Sith, I recall thinking, I would be a very poor fit.

And then, halfway through our conversation, the heroes of the day, three brothers walked into the cantina. Loudly sitting themselves down by the entrance, they called over the bartender and demanded drinks, laughing and berating the man in the process; I could not hear exactly what was said but I could see the tenor of their conversation across the room. Perhaps that was a mark that they were true Sith material, for already they acted as if they owned the place already.

"Will you consider going to the Jedi now?" I asked, partly to distract my drinking companions who were throwing glances of undisguised jealousy across the cantina.

"Can't," Lashowe said. "Rejected me already. Said I was strong with the force but unsuitable to the order. The frack does that mean?"

"Phaa," said one of the boys. "The Jedi are weak. I would never join them."

"The last thing I'd do," agreed someone else, "is join the losing side."

There was agreement around the table. My drinking companions had not been discouraged by the day's events. If anything, their resolve to join the academy had grown. We discussed the Jedi a bit more and there was consensus that they would be the losing side of the conflict; they were weak; had not the corruption and ineptitude of the Republic proved that?

They were not entirely wrong, I thought. Just a little one sided. The ultimate test of an ideology is its success or failure. It matters little how noble the sentiments: if they lead to ruin, then they ought to be discarded. The Jedi had failed as the peacekeepers of the galaxy. But I found it hard to believe the Sith would do any better.

And so the evening went on: my companions imbibed more and more beverages, their inhibitions decreased, their voices got louder. Their stories of their own escapades began to sound more and more fanciful to my ears, but there was hearty laughter all around the table. Not wanting to be the sole outlier, I joined in the merriment as best I could, and in their inebriated merriment perhaps they did not notice the plastered smile on my face.

"What will you all do now?" I asked during a rare moment of silence. We had been in the cantina for some hours by then. The room had begun to empty, though a good number of people were still there; two of the brothers had remained, including the one who was about to enter the academy, singing some ditty from their native planet, quite out of tune.

There was a hushed silence around the table. I saw scowls. I had clearly committed a faux paus: we were getting drunk precisely to avoid thinking about this question. Still once it had been put directly, there was no choice but to consider it.

"Probably come back in a year," Lashowe said. "Do some exercises to improve my force powers in the meanwhile."

There was some nodding all around.

"What sort of exercises?"

They began sharing stories of their techniques, which seemed to be a mixture of the meditation exercises they Jedi were known for and the pains the Sith were known to inflict upon their acolytes.

I took a deep breath. I have often wondered how the normal people of the galaxy live being unable to get any sense of their future. How do they deal with the possibility that their lives might be cut off and discarded from the universe at any moment? Thankfully, I was spared that: I knew, at least in rough form, the choices that faced me, and their general consequences. But I also faced my own challenges, one of which was before me right at that moment.

Throughout the evening, I considered my paths. I could go back to my parents, take up the life of a farmer, and live a productive, ordinary life; I could see it in my mind's eye, but, more importantly, I could feel it with the force; not in all the details, but the general sense of it. It would be happy and uneventful.

Or….or I could steer this conversation in a different direction, a direction that would end with my entering the Sith academy on the following day.

I sensed that there was great danger in this direction; that, the possibility of my death was present, but I likely could avoid it if I played my cards right; and that, even if I did not die, I would suffer much pain. My future on this path was...vague. I saw myself alive, stronger, but more than that I did not know. My presentiments always weakened in power the further into the future I looked. And I had to make a decision and it had to be done now, quickly, before the evening progressed much further. Staying silent would throw me onto the first path.

Have you ever tried to decide the whole course of your life in a matter of minutes?

"What if I told you," I interrupted - some conversation was going around the table but it had been a long time since I paid any attention - "that one of us could get into the academy by tomorrow?"

That got their attention all right.

"How?"

"Ridiculous. We were all rejected."

"I will not be toyed with."

"Do you have weapons?" I asked.

It turned out Lashowe had a vibroblade and one of the boys had a blaster. I also had a blaster with me.

"How many credits do you have?"

They hesitated.

"And I mean all of your credits," I said. "All. Every single one. Do not lie. Our success depends on it. "