Centered, with my emotions their most distant and the Force most present, I was touched by the beauty of the violet blade.

Nineteen standard battle droids, five mobile Scorpion units, and a Titan armored anti-vehicle unit were deployed about the "field" - a cavernous chamber far enough under Coruscant's surface levels it had to be sealed against the pressure gradient. There had been a noticeable build-up to the flurry of activity that showed eight of the droids sliced through simultaneously - or so it appeared - by violet blurs in all directions. And while the Scorpions each managed to weather a handful of blows with electrified arms prepared to deflect a laser sword, they lacked the reaction time to counter Mace Windu's ferocious, unpredictable assault.

As pieces of the colossal Titan droid fell to the ground, Qui-Gon softly asked me, "Wasn't this prohibitively expensive, even for you?"

I nodded towards the team of eight engineers frantically manipulating switches and keying commands at the x-wing-sized control center. "It was free for me. Those battle droids cost BCA a fortune, but you should have seen how they jumped at the chance. Master Jedi seldom attack under conditions where they can record data on it."

In fact, none of the Baktoid Combat Automata personnel showed the least consternation, despite the stern red lights now covering every status screen. Awe was the most common reaction, followed closely by energetic interest.

The side conversation almost made me miss it: the moment when Master Windu's channel of passionate aggression dissipated. I had been expecting to sense it radiate outward as he raised his mental defenses: a shield against the Darkness. That didn't happen. Instead, those last flows of negative emotion were taken in by the mind of the warrior, and in moments were made an undetectable part of his larger psyche. It was as though he had some way of neutralizing their virulence, like a man digesting a meal of poison for nourishment.

It made me briefly consider if Mace wouldn't be a better trainer for Anakin. I had known the boy for four days, and I could already tell that his talents and weaknesses were the opposite of my own. Whereas I sometimes dissociated from my surroundings so much as to lose the context of the moment, Anakin always felt everything around him. His connection to the Force was so strong that, while the world bent to his presence, he was also swept up in the world. And with this nature of almost "hyper-attachment," I could entirely understand the Council's concerns: how do you train such a person, with such thick and resilient spiritual connections, to entangle from them?

But a quick mental survey of the practitioners of Windu's style, Vapaad, disabused me of the notion. Other than the Master himself, every other user of the technique that I could remember, past or future, was eventually corrupted by it. And the details of Windu's own eventual fate were shrouded from my memory like so many others, so it was possible even he eventually succumbed.

I redirected my attention to the present as Master Windu approached our position, his saber blade already retracted. "As enjoyable as that was, young Kenobi, can I ask the point?" Even at his most composed, there was always something singularly forward about him; ferocity was latent in even his social and intellectual exchanges.

"You have warned us, Master Windu, that there is no way to genuinely train with or against Vapaad. I wanted to observe a genuine use of the technique, so I could better understand what was missing when we spar."

"And this will help you against the Sith assassin, somehow?"

I nodded. "You're the closest thing we have to a Juyo master; someone using the full strength and energy of the emotive Force in your technique." I carefully avoided using the words 'Dark Side,' although that's what it really was. "I know it's not the same as facing a Sith, but it might provide some insight. Might make a difference in the coming battle."

Windu grimaced. "I'm still not certain of the wisdom of sending you two into that battle. We have forewarning of Darth Maul; why not meet him with the full force of the order? A dozen of our best weapons masters."

Qui-Gon replied, "I am forced to agree with Obi-wan on this. Maul is more likely to flee than to engage if he senses a concerted group - more Jedi than he is certain he could handle. And that would leave him an unpredictable weapon pointed straight at our backs."

I bent to the case I had brought along with me and handed a training saber to Windu, whose special blade did not have a variable containment setting like many lightsabers. "Be assured, Master, that we are taking steps to prepare, but hopefully ones that Darth Maul will remain unaware of until he is committed to the fight."

We three positioned ourselves in a triangle two dozen meters to a side. The field was still littered with droid debris, and the BCA engineers stopped what they were doing to watch us.

The hissing sounds of the lightsabers overlapped each other as three blades burned almost-white. I took an open tail guard, Qui-Gon a two-handed chest guard, and Mace a modified head guard in his off-hand.

We inhaled as one, and we all moved together. Qui-Gon took to the air with a sweeping slash as Mace ran directly toward me, making a low attack that I only barely deflected into the ground. Sparks flew as Mace's blade spun around to deflect my master's downstroke while the Vapaad master struck out at my head with a fist. I was forced to jump back to dodge it, which allowed Mace a rapid set of overhand and side slashes at Qui-Gon before I was in reach to thread an opening.

My instincts expected a moment's recovery at the end of this exchange, but Mace followed up immediately, alternating between blade strikes and kicks in an oddly symmetric set of exchanges that kept Qui-Gon and me both off-balance. My Master took two steps back to prepare for another leaping charge as I put all my focus into a classic Form III routine of complicated blocks and guards. The hot, visceral emotions coming from my opponent were intoxicating, and it required a strong focus to not be drawn into them as I pressed forward with my rejoinders after each jarring deflection.

For a moment it seemed as though my pressure was forcing Mace back, but I quickly realized he was dictating our movement in order to crowd Qui-Gon. I opened my guard into Form V to reposition… and Mace immediately punished me with a leg sweep that sent me sprawling.

In the moments it took me to recover, Mace was already focusing his attacks on Qui-Gon, an unpredictable litany of blows that my Master dodged and blocked with difficulty. Mace's one handed swings were a strength match for Qui-Gon's two-handed blocks, driving my Master back and forcing him to pick his footing over the parts-strewn cavern.

I covered a lateral arc of a quarter circle before diving forward with a graceful Form IV spinning attack. It was a 'fatal' mistake; I felt the sting on my right arm at the same time that my saber clattered to the ground. I stayed on the ground for the four additional seconds it took before Mace's blade stopped at Qui-Gon's throat and my Master accepted his defeat.

Master Windu helped me off the ground before handing me the practice blade. "Excellent composure, bladework, and footwork," he said approvingly. "But your cleverness is your undoing." He took a step back to include Qui-Gon in the discussion, but it was clear my own mentor agreed with him. "You analyze the circumstances of the fight, deliberating on your next move. A fight at this level must be reflexive; there is no time to think, no room to hesitate."

I nodded; it was a message my own Master had been telling me for years. The truth was that most of the time my opponents weren't fast enough to take advantage of my slight hesitation - probably no more than half a second - as I decided to change up my technique. But Maul certainly was. I needed to choose and train my strategies before our meeting, and not expect I could adjust them on the fly.

"Thank you for your help," I responded sincerely.

Qui-Gon added, "This was a useful exercise, but we need to make sure that Anakin is prepared for his test this afternoon."

"The boy is too old," Mace Windu insisted as we made our way to the pressurized lift.

"Even so, you will save your judgment until you have tested him," Qui-Gon responded, and it wasn't really a question.

"Of course."