Chapter Three

"I saw something tonight."

"Where?"

"In my dreams. The connection is still there. I thought it had gone."

"Another vision? Of the past or present?"

"Past. Some present. Hold on. Our connection is fading. There."

"What was your vision about?"

"I.. I'm not sure. Something dark is on the horizon, something sinister. He was there, as always, but not the same. He and his apprentice Jandu were both there. I noticed a fault in their appearance, like the very fabric of reality was bent around them. Like . Like the force was bending to accept them both, or. I don't . I don't know."

"Are you sure it just wasn't a dream, Bastila?"

"I don't. I don't know. He was talking but not with his voice. Instead, he spoke like Malak in that same contemptible tone and serrated edge. The hatred, the unbound disgust."

"Bastila."

"I know. I know. That's not the man I know. Even as Revan he was tame, cruel but tame. He had control of himself, of his people. But this, this was unbridled fury in it's purist form."

"You know like I do that he has done not a single thing to any of us. He has always been there with us, for us. Even when Mission and Zalbaar turned against us, he was there to offer her harbor and safety, to bring her back to the light. Bastila, any man who would do that wouldn't be what you saw in your dream tonight."

"I know. And." There was a nervous chuckle. ".He even spoke of Jolee to Jandu. Jolee is like a mentor to him, I think, even if he himself won't admit it. He's no threat to anyone and even when the council tried to demote Jolee to Padawan so he could relearn the Jedi way, he was there to stop it."

"You just had a bad dream, Bastila. That's all." "I hope so."

"It was."

"I. I know."

"Bastila." Another nervous chuckle, this time a man's voice, crept across the vast reaches of space. ".You probably just got flustered from seeing him last week."

"What?"

"You know what I'm saying."

".I am a Jedi."

"I know."

"Carth? I have to go. Thank you for talking and still being awake."

"You're welcome, Bastila. Be safe and watch yourself."

"May the Force be with you, Carth Onasi."

Canderous Ordo sat alone in his stateroom aboard the Jedi flagship Shining Wisdom, his face clouded in thought. He had just returned to his room from meeting with R'tork Monmo, a Twi'lek Jedi who was formally in charge of all political matters that the Shining Wisdom could potentially find herself involved with.

Naturally, the meeting's rather dry content was more than enough fuel to foster the fires of his current reverie.

Canderous was a Knight-Errant of the Jedi Order, former commando of the Mandalorian Legions, Star of the Republic medal recipient, and according to last years 'Who's Hot?' issue of Fango's Monthly Datmag, the fifty-first sexiest being in the Republic. Which really wasn't all that bad, he thought, considering the fact that there were several thousand or so contestants worthy of mention.

The only thing that still bothered him was that Commodore Carth Onasi had beaten him out by three votes to earn the forty-ninth slot. It always seemed the man was a step ahead in some areas of life, most of which Canderous secretly envied.

For instance, Carth was still a warrior. He spent more time at the helm of his flagship than any Admiral Canderous had ever heard of.

A large misconception by the naïve would lead many to believe that with the most obvious threats gone, the Republic's armed forces were at a loss for mission. Contrary to belief, Canderous thought, any Empi. - Republic, always has their dissidents. Outside forces vied for control of the Outer Rim, that area just beyond the fingertips of Republic recognized space.

It was in this outlaw section of space that the Republic fleets patrolled, making their presence known as if to announce by their very existence that any hostilities, illegal actions, or plotting were not going to be tolerated and the Republic stood ready to react at a moment's notice. Of course, in a time of real conflict, forces were allocated elsewhere and the Outer Rim was almost certainly deserted, leaving it's citizenry at the whim of whatever would-be dictator decided to make a grab for power.

It was now time for the Republic to clean up their mess in that area. So, with quiet envy, Canderous knew that Carth would see many more battles to come.

Carth also appeared happy. Happy with the direction his life and career were taking him. He seemed content with his personal relationships or lack thereof. Carth was not a logic gate, to be toggled to the 'happy' mode only when a certain stimulus was applied.

No. Carth was not Canderous and Canderous hated . disliked him greatly for it.

With a sigh of resignation, he sat back in his chair and idly thumbed his message recorder. There were two waiting for him.

One message was from a Hutt attaché Canderous had met briefly at a luncheon on Coruscant. Evidently the man wished to discuss the R-823CE asteroid cluster and the profit it could bring to both the Republic and the Hutt syndicate he worked for.

Bleep. Deleted.

The next message took a moment to recognize but when the callback address was confirmed, Canderous' eyes narrowed. Bastila Shan. The poster child for spoiled Jedi galaxy-wide had left him a message. Something about a dream she just woke up from and that she needed to talk to him. The message went on and when it was obvious Canderous had not been at the receiver at the time, she said she would call Carth and seek his aid.

There it was. Carth. Carth-Carth-Carth-Carth.

Even while he frowned on Bastila in mere principle, Canderous admitted to himself that the attractive young woman did have merit. She was capable of combat and she knew space tactics. That alone warranted his attention to her problems out of mere professional respect. He owed her that much.

Bloop. Message saved.

His messages done, Canderous turned towards his inbox where datchips and pads awaited his approval, rejection, or review.

The first one from the top of the stack was titled: Proposition Dawn.

Turning the chip over and over in his hands, inspecting it, Canderous' lips began to curve upwards.

Now this, he thought, now this would make him a very happy man indeed.

That same evening darkness crept over Dantooine too, like some sort of uncontrollable ink stain, it seeped into every nook and cranny imaginable until all were covered in it.

The planet was sleeping, it's small population of farmers, settlers, nature enthusiasts, and Jedi were for the most part asleep.

A figure, alone in it's room, turned and rolled over restlessly. It glowed within the moonlight; thick sweat sheen producing an aura of fledgling light that almost made it appear holy. Muscles writhed, scars twisted and churned, and small sounds were elicited from the back of its throat.

In an instant the figure bolted upright, it's breathing intense and labored, fists clenched. It took several seconds before emotions were controlled, quelled, and placed back under their restraints.

Thought began to form.

Jedi Master Alexandre Kodiak's eyes narrowed sharply.