Discipline, a star wars fanfic

Discipline

All characters from Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords belong to Obsidian, Bioware and Lucas Arts. I am merely borrowing them because I tend to get ideas late at night. Enjoy!

It was the clear and distinct tone of his voice that brought her from the mindless stupor of painful events long since passed.

"Excuse me, but are you all right?"

Nova flicked her eyes from between the view-screen in the Security Room and the Disciple, deciding on whether or not to answer the rhetorical question. Yes, she was fine, or no, she was willing to let loose some lightening and fry some civilians because of the setbacks. Considering his gentle nature, she decided to opt for the nonchalant façade that had worked so well in the past.

"I'm fine, thanks…but what's on your mind?"

The game was all about the answering of a question with another question. First person to stop the interrogation lost. Though he would probably not know what it was, considering that it was a very old game, predating the Mandalorian Wars and originating with a group of Apprentices just waiting to be saddled with the burden of become Padawans. Oh it had been such a long time…

The Disciple gave a wry smile, his face free of the lines that were now starting to appear on Atton's. Youth and good health had its benefits. "Perhaps I should be the one asking you that? You are paler than usual and I'm not quite sure if that's due to fatigue or worry."

"Fatigue?" the Exile raised an amused eyebrow. "You know, I am hungry, actually. But…" she surreptitiously slipped the small data crystal from the viewing reticule into a hidden picket within her sleeve, "I know that's not the reason you're here. There's no way you could have heard my stomach growling…unless there's some hidden talent of yours that I'm unaware of?"

"No, no talent, I have just been using the teaching you gave me. I sensed your discomfort through the Force." He shifted nervously in the doorframe, eyes glancing down the passage to the common room of the Ebon Hawk. "I am not much the chef and the Ebon Hawk's food processing capabilities are limited, but I did manage to make you something to eat."

Forgetting all about the game, Nova sat still and watched her companion with a rapt interest. He was silent beneath her stare, it did much to hide his infatuation and fear of rejection, but Nova had watched him, and the rest, and now knew their movements by heart. The slight change of his weight from foot to foot, the rigid pose of his back from combat training…it was not so difficult anymore, not after a lifetime of judgement and relying on intuition. Because that's all one had left without the Force: intuition or death.

"I have to wonder when was the last time I had food prepared for me. Personally. Just for me and not to share with anyone else. My own consumption." She gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck ruefully. "I'll get back to you on it when I remember, but let's just say you've made my day, Disciple. It was really nice of you to think about me."

It was as if the whole weight of the Ebon Hawk had been lifted off his shoulders and he gave her a pleased smile. "I know you've been through a lot lately…and I thought that whatever I could do to help out would be appreciated."

"It is…very much so. Thank you." Said with a bittersweet half smile, Nova stood and smoothed out her robes. "Let's get some food in me before I burn out."

As much of a Jedi's life was servitude, it was rare for there to be moments of pampering. After spending some years on the Outer Rim with only three sets of clothes, two vibroswords and an array of blasters, Nova had forgotten safety and comfort. She had drawn half of her life savings before she had left Coruscant. The rest lay in a vault somewhere, along with a set of clean Jedi robes and a small silver container holding the locks of hair she had cut before she left the Jedi Temple forever. So it was that such a small courtesy truly touched her.

It was also something that was unlooked for among the crew. Nova had never been in the position to ask her friends for any favors and they were as unwilling to give them. They had all been dictated by their own drives, never having any time for anything but their own betterment. They were not a humble group, but they were still very clever and close despite the wariness they felt for each other. Force forbid Nova outshine Malak or Revan outshine them all.

The same applied here, on the Ebon Hawk. While they were growing quite close, there were still walls, walls that could only be broken by a little more giving and a little less taking. Nova carried Kreia's scorn for nearly everything on her back while she juggled with the desperate task of keeping order on the ship and making sure her crew wasn't going to mutiny her on Ord Mantell. There was always someone who was picking a problem with her strategies, whether it was Mandalore and his pragmatism or Visas and her vengeful streak. Mira and HK liked to antagonize each other and Bao-Dur's remote kept winding up in pieces for some strange reason, with the Iridorian blaming the Mandalorian for the sabotage.

She must have been babying them too much, that must have been the reason she felt so stretched. Checking on them to see if they were okay, were they hungry, did the droids need maintenance…would she like to hear about a destroyed homeworld, did she know that she looked rather tired lately, was she going to stop her foolishness, did she know the consequences for failure? Yet she had heard the recording of Admiral Onasi on HK-47 and at least she didn't have it that bad.

Atton might have been shot had he pulled an, "I don't trust you," act. Instead he alternated between ignoring her and then lying at her feet for attention. It wasn't so much as his behavior that annoyed her, but his inability to say what he wanted or mean what he said. Sometimes he was very genuine and she couldn't help but sit in the seat beside him, pull her legs up to her chest and grin like some schoolgirl. Other times he was quite the cad. She hated that game of pazaak he'd played on Nar Shaddaa with that Twi'lek. Laced with so many innuendoes and sleights of hand, she'd had to leave. He hadn't made any apologies to her, had boasted to T3 about winning the match, and then acted as though nothing had happened. He confused her…and not in a good way.

Laying a hand on the small of her back, the Disciple gently ushered Nova forward.

"So what did you prepare?"

"I met Mira while checking our food supplies and she was preparing some form of sandwich with a type of flatbread and sweet-smelling paste," he explained.

That made Nova's face split into an ear-to-ear grin. "You made me a sandwich?"

"I made you two, actually," the Disciple went on quickly. "Just in case you didn't like one."

"Two?" Will our supplies be all right? "Well, I'll only eat one…I have to say in shape you know. And just so that we don't waste supplies, why don't you have the other?"

"Just so long as you choose what one you want to eat first…"

"Gotcha, Di."

Finding the sandwiches on top a waist high storage container, Nova examined them with a critical eye. One of them was just as he said, it was filled with a sort of creamy, sweet smelling paste. The other contained a dark red, sticky jelly. She knew the paste was saltnut butter, and the jelly must have been the preserve she'd ordered to supplement their vitamin levels. Saltnut butter she was familiar with and opted for that, leaving the Disciple to get a good dose of healthy jam.

"Oh," she heard him muttering behind her; "by the Force, I forgot the drinks…"

Before leaving Nar Shaddaa Nova had also restocked the ship's supply of potable water. "Do you want me to get some water?"

"If you would, please," he replied with a sheepish glance.

"Alright, just a minute." Leaving her sandwich under the vigilant gaze of her "student," Nova went back to the food storage and gathered up two cartons of water. Her fingers brushed by the packets of powdered caffa, chocolate and tea when a fond memory struck her.

"Disciple!" she returned back him, cartons waving in either hand. "I remember!"

"Remember what?"

"When the last time was that I had someone make something for me!"

"Oh!" he looked genuinely interested, but was more intent on grabbing her hand and taking the water to stop her from potentially bursting and spilling its contents on the deck. "Well sit down and tell me about it while we eat."

Picking up her food and following him to the makeshift pazaak table, she launched into her tale as soon as she had swallowed her first bite. "This was a very long time ago, before I became a Padawan, but no doubt you've probably heard of the event. It caused quite the scare in the medical field.

"While I was still a student learner at the Jedi Temple, we had an incident where someone sabotaged our air ventilation system and released a bacteria into it. It circulated about the dormitories and the crèche, causing many of the Apprentices, the ones who weren't fully trained to withstand disease, to become sick. Being one of the older groups, we didn't get as sick as the younger children did, but we were still subjected to a fever, chills and congestion. It was not a pleasant thing."

Watching her take a bite, the Disciple used the opportunity to chime in. "Yes, I believe I have read something of that while I was in my apprenticeship with the Republic Healers. It caused quite a shake within the Senate, so I was told."

Swallowing quickly, the Exile nodded her head rapidly. "Oh, I'm not surprised. A contagion that effects Jedi?" She took a sip of her water. "It would place the galaxy in uproar."

"Indeed."

"Thankfully, the Healers were quick to solve the problem and no one died. However," she grinned, "my congestion remained despite the treatment. It made studying and speaking very difficult."

"And it must have off set your equilibrium," said the Disciple thoughtfully, looking at her from over steepled fingers, his sandwich untouched, "which is key to a Jedi's success in battle."

"Exactly!" she tapped the table for emphasis. "Usually I was a very good duelist, but my footing and balance was non-existent. Training sabers, set to the advanced level, can cause quite the sting.

"After seeing me decimated by the majority of my clanmates, our instructor, Master Orsa, took me aside after our lesson and had me drink some pepper tea. Her skill may have been in battle, but she knew what she was doing. It cleared my congestion within minutes."

"Pepper tea, you say?" The Disciple frowned, obviously sifting through the piles of medical knowledge in his mind before giving her a surprised nod of his head. "That was clever of her."

"It was." She grimaced, "though I didn't like its taste much. Still, she told me that not all remedies were learnt from books and that sometimes a little practical experience often saved a Jedi's life or the life a friend when out in the field."

"Life at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant seems so different from the one led at the Academy on Dantooine." He gave a wistful sigh; "I wonder how things might have been different, even though I am happy with the path that I walk."

"Things are much different between the two…or were." The ominous tone was paid in respect to the now silent halls of the heart of the Jedi Order. "In my experience, and this is before your time, young Jedi were sent to Dantooine to learn humility and to better accept their role as helpers of the people. We worked with the farmers there and helped them in harvesting and planting their crops. It was only for a year, but I tell you…" she fixed him with a sly smile, "it was the most boring and tedious year of my training."

"You missed the Temple?"

"Oh yes, I missed it, without question, there were people there who…" a small, strangled noise came out from the back of her throat, like she was swallowing some words that were better left unsaid, "who watched after you, made sure you were all right. Some Jedi were very distant, very cold…"

"Like Master Vrook?" asked the Disciple quietly.

"Yes. You saw how he was on Dantooine. Not even a thank you." The slow simmering rage of being unappreciated had cooled down since then, but it still bothered her that he would be so pretentious to act like that. Though he probably would have gotten on fabulously with G0-T0.

"He was like that when I was training as well."

"Just goes to show you can't teach an old Kath Hound new tricks!"

The Disciple nodded, reflecting on the past while staring down into his carton of water. "I suppose you were glad to hear then that as soon as you were exiled, many of the Jedi Masters left. They were replaced by a Jedi War Council, of which Vrook remained a part. It was filled with many people who resented the War and who were more likely to condemn than to accept."

"Disciple, that has ever been true of the Council in recent years. The Jedi Order is not a place without cliques," she held the word out in the open for a moments, "the Jedi Masters included."

"And the Padawans?" he asked sharply, flicking his eyes up in an intense and grave stare.

Nova held his gaze long. "History speaks for itself."

Some moments of uncomfortable silence passed before she steered them back onto their original topic: the difference between training on Coruscant and on Dantooine.

"Barring that, Disciple, the Temple was filled with so much positive energy, so much activity. I grew up in a time free of war and the Masters and younger Knights wanted to do other things besides meditate. They came to speak with us, tell us of the Force."

"Much like you did for us?"

"Yes. I enjoyed listening to the views of the newest Knights, people who were closer to my age and had inspiring views of what the Jedi were. I wanted to share that with you…not give you the warnings and the scorn of a Jedi who had seen war and was willing to crush the dreams of a few young initiates to make their point. That is not what being a Jedi is about." She shrugged. "I thought it would be a good idea to speak with the younger generations now that the Mandalorians had invaded."

"Were you on your way Taris?"

"No, actually…you'll never believe it, but I was on my way to Telos to speak with the former Padawans there, the…failures who had been sent there." It was a bitter statement, because so much promising potential was lost. Jedi found themselves too busy to take on Padawan learners, and those that did were often saddled with the burden of training three of four at a time.

"You were recruiting," he said slowly.

"In a sense," replied the Exile warily. "Revan had been watching the Mandalorians make progress through the Outer Rim territories, burning Cathar and any other worlds they thought would be a challenge. I needed to see if there was an interest in helping the galaxy among the…forgotten of the Order.

"If Revan was the center, I was her mouth piece. You know all about those…special bonds I create with others, don't you, Di?"

"Being a part of one myself?" He laughed gently, "you know I follow you because its my choice."

"So you say…so you say."

"Tell me more about the Temple. I never got to see it, except from the outside."

"Once there, you had no time for being idle. So much activity, people coming and going, diplomatic meetings and messages being made…and then becoming a Padawan and joining in the circuitry. Sometimes it was amazing and other times it was like your rope was fraying at its weakest points. Oh, Disciple," she patted his hand affectionately, food forgotten, "I am very sorry that you had to spend so much time on Dantooine!"

"Without knowing the splendor that you've told me of, I was quite content helping the farmers."

"But helping the farmers as the foundation for your whole training? Students from the Temple were usually only sent there to learn humility." She shrugged. "I hadn't realized that it was also a separate Academy. Jedi ignorance, I assume."

"Yes, it served as a training center for us. Exar Kun trained there, before he fell to the darkside. Though humility? I find it hard to think of you in the dirt planting seeds, but then again I am learning that you are full of surprises." The Disciple smiled in his boyish fashion, earning a rather coy one from the Exile. He forgot himself for a minute, the two just staring at each other in comfortable silence.

A minute spanned into two and he found himself perfectly content with cocking his head from side to side in a silent game with the other Jedi. Then she winked at him and took another bite of her sandwich, effectively ending the game.

It took him a minute to retrace their conversation and come up with a suitable topic starter. He plucked out the first idea that came to him. "So besides learning humility, you also had your regular lessons?"

"Oh of course, the Masters weren't about to let a year of learning be wasted. We were drilled on the practical usage of the Jedi Code." She fixed him a meaningful look, "practicality being theory. Plus the year I was there was also the same year that Master Vrook had decided to come to Dantooine and take charge of the training there."

"Oh dear…"

"Oh yes…but at least he implemented some physical exercise into our lessons when he added advanced Jedi philosophy and metaphysics. There is only so much theory one student can take!"

The Disciple nodded sympathetically.

"Though I suppose the good thing about Dantooine was its relative smallness. In such an environment there were so many opportunities to…shine." It was always a Jedi's first step on the path to the darkside…the desire to out do their peers. "Helping the farmers was an individual task, with each of the many farmers assigned just one Apprentice. I felt like I wasn't being shadowed by the brilliance of my peers."

"It must have been difficult, considering all the generals of the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War were of your generation." The Disciple had returned to contemplating the depths of his water, blue eyes focusing on the ripples caused by the hum of the ship, darting up every now and again to watch the woman across from him with keen interest.

It was so competitive back then… "They were in my clan, Disciple. Revan, Malak, Amunai, Jair, Nerin…I lived with them everyday as an Apprentice and then celebrated my status as a Jedi Knight with them. They were my friends." And my enemies…

"And you went to war as friends, but what happened afterwards?"

"Its too long a story, Disciple. Suffice to say that I returned to receive judgement from the Council…and they returned to judge the Republic." The Exile shrugged and returned to eating her sandwich, though it tasted stale and ashen to her now.

"I'm willing to listen, Nova, if you're willing to share it with me."

For the second time, Nova felt compelled to look at the Disciple against her will, the tone of his voice reaching out and caressing her senses. It wasn't the Force at work; there was no gentle tugging like Persuasion or the hazy fog of Domination. Instead it was something deep in her gut that controlled her. Jedi didn't use their powers to exploit their fellows and she knew the Disciple was far too pure of heart to do that anyway.

Ever since the Disciple had come on board, Nova had done her best to ease the tension between the men on the ship. Atton had become moody and sullen, picking on the Disciple who had not protested or responded to his poor treatment. Bao-Dur had thrown himself harder into his work and now with the addition of Mandalore he had this constant iced over expression of extreme control on his face. She had delicately picked her moments, spending time with each of them to clean the air and release the tension.

Her new circle of friends was suffering from the thing her old friends had: love.

As soon as the newly minted Jedi Knights had stepped foot into their first warship and had tasted what it meant to truly survive by depending on another person, attachments that they were unfamiliar with had been made. Malak blindly and slavish adored Revan as did the other younger Jedi who followed her. Tensions rose high between the best of friends and when the loser was left without a lover, they all turned to the one person who seemed farthest removed from the conflicts: the Exile. Claiming blind and oblivious charm as her weapon of choice, it had cooled them down and sent them away to other available women.

But in this case it just wasn't an option. Atton was very straightforward with what he wanted and whom he wanted, and the handsome scoundrel had made it perfectly obvious that that woman was she. The Disciple was not so blunt (if indeed he had any feelings for her at all and it was Nova simply being vain.). Once in a while something would slip, his smile would be too personal, a touch less than casual. He was just so private that it was hard to tell.

And the Exile guessed that was why she found herself staring at him, watching his fingers move about the medical console, eyeing the blonde lock of hair that kept springing free even after he tucked it behind his ear… She liked to close her eyes and listen to the inflections in his voice. He reminded her of someone from her past, someone that she had trusted with her life before he had "betrayed" her. Their presence in the Force felt similar, their actions were the same and when time had tested the Disciple more, their wisdom would be too.

"I know you are, Disciple…but we're almost to Onderon." Nova tapped her chronometer gently. "We'll chat on the trip to Korriban. But I warn you, you might die of boredom."

"I doubt that," replied the Disciple with a shake of his head. "Your life is very interesting, and if I ever have a chance to amend the data-texts, I will."

"If we even get out of this mess alive. The politics of Onderon are above the understanding of you or I. Did you, uh," Nova rubbed her forehead, "did you end up reading the data I gave you?"

"I did…and I think it's for the best that there's a Jedi Master helping Queen Talia. Master Kavar," the Disciple's voice was filled with respect, "I've heard stories about him. A famed Jedi Guardian."

"He used to beat us Padawans silly when we tried to duel him in our arrogance."

"You sparred with Master Kavar?"

"Oh, many times." She hadn't thought it strange to receive advanced instruction from another Master, and in a Jedi's quest for knowledge her own hadn't thought it a bad idea. "He was always very interested in my progress and wasn't shy about improving my technique when he had the time. We had quite the friendly rivalry between us," said Nova with a content quirk to her lips. "My arms would ache and his legs would be singed and we'd sit around chatting as the Healers tended to our 'battle scars. You can't take back the past…but…" No, sometimes its just not worth it to explain everything.

"But you wish you could?" the Disciple asked gently.

"Occasionally," was the quiet response, her eyes guarding her secrets possessively. "Things are a bit too complicated now." Do you regret your decision, Kavar? Do you regret it now that so many have died…those that could have been spared had you spared me? "I had to let a lot of my past go when I went into exile. I taught myself how to live without the Force…and that does things to you, Disciple."

Taking a brave initiative, he reached out and grasped her hand, smoothing a gloved thumb over the backs of her knuckles. "I know exactly how you feel."

"Perhaps you do. But you were young, I wasn't. You had the Republic and I had…I had…well it was…not that it wasn't…" Nova gave up finding the right words to explain to him. She'd tried to relate bits of it to Atton, who had walked the exact same road, but she had found it harder and harder to go on with his eyes encouraging her in their vivacious fashion. She wanted to open up to somebody but she didn't want to have to explain the intricacies of her past. "I can't…tell you."

"You can't tell me or you won't tell me?"

"I can't find the words and I'm doubtful if you'd even understand."

The Disciple took the comment with a thoughtful glance to their joined hands. "You know nothing you could say would ever change my opinion of you." His blue eyes slowly trailed their way up her forearm, over her bicep, across her shoulder, up her neck and cheeks until they met her pained gaze. "This isn't like you."

"No, it's not. I could tell you everything in one phrase and you'd still have questions. Everyone has questions! What is it with the questions!"

"They question because they care about you. You're our leader," he gripped her hand tighter, "and how you feel directly influences us as well. I don't want you to burden yourself. If you keep bottling this up things will only get worse."

"I am not afraid of telling you the truth," said Nova, snatching her hand away, "I just don't like repeating myself."

"Then tell me in that one phrase you offered." The Disciple placed a hand over his heart. "I promise not to ask any questions, on my honor as a Jedi."

"You sound remarkably like Atton."

"You are stalling…"

The Exile rolled her eyes at his tone and thought carefully of her one statement. Slowly, she pieced together the defining parts of her existence. "This is who I was, Disciple, take the phrase as it is: leather, brandy and enough credits in my pocket for tomorrow night. Take the phrase exactly as it is, don't read into it."

The Disciple took a small bite of his sandwich, frowning at the taste, and also at the ambiguity of the statement as well as its numerous and possible implications. "I promised that I wouldn't ask you any questions…and I won't."

"Good."

"But it hasn't changed anything."

"It hasn't changed anything," echoed Nova softly.

The Disciple nodded, "it hasn't changed anything."

Anything…

"…anything, Sadow, it hasn't changed anything."

"What was that, Keto? I lost my train of thought."

"Kresh and Gal-ran, remember? The petition?"

"Oh…"

"Well it was rejected."

"You'd think the Senate was cleverer than that."

"It's the Senate, Sadow, what did you expect?"

The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was not merely the central bastion of the Jedi; it was also their primary training ground for potential Jedi Knights. Under the domed ceilings and sweeping spires, many students and their masters studied the finer arts of Jedi philosophy, battle and history. The younger Apprentices worked on developing their basic skills with a lightsaber and harmony with the Force. Padawans mulled about the Archives, Knights and Masters strutted through the halls with a purpose…during the day life was rich and vibrant.

But at night, as it was then, life became still. The children were asleep in their beds, the Masters were preparing lessons for the next day in their quarters, and all diplomatic meetings would have long since ended. The only disturbances were the arrivals of Jedi from off world, returning from their assigned missions, or the silent rustle of robes as a few silent Jedi patrolled the corridors. The Force was peaceful and unmarked by trouble or worry as gentle dreams of faraway lands swirled and echoed throughout the corridors.

The hushed voices of the two women as they walked through the halls were laced with an edge of discontentment.

"You expected as much as I did."

"They are fools. That petition would have saved many lives, Sadow."

"Rivan wasn't so pleased with Kresh about the idea. She didn't support it at all."

"I don't know what her game is. She actively protests that the Mandalorians on the Outer Rim must be stopped and yet she doesn't take any action of her own. If Rivan gave her endorsement then maybe the Senate would listen?"

"What are you two doing out so late?"

The two women stopped and turned about, coming face to face with a stern looking Twi'lek. They recognized him as one of the volunteer workers in the Coruscanti refugee sector.

"Padawans Shadow and Seca, shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked politely.

Nova held out the datapad she was carrying for the Knight to read. "It's from my Master. He is leaving for Onderon tomorrow and he just wanted some last minute research work done." She gave a glance to Amunai beside her. "And Amunai hasn't started on her most recent assignment yet, so as I was going to be there for awhile, I thought I might as well bring her along."

"I hope Master Vin has a successful mission," replied the Twi'lek, returning the datapad.

"As do I. The galaxy is troubled enough as it is without losing another Jedi," said Nova quietly.

The Twi'lek gave a small sound of disapproval. "Focus on the now, Padawan, and let the Code of the Jedi guide your steps. The Force will work as it will."

Nova bowed her head in respect, Amunai quickly following suit. "Of course."

"I shall leave you two go," the Knight eyed them warily, "but don't make any mischief. You are old enough to know better."

"Oh don't worry," Amunai quickly gripped Nova's arm and dragged her away, "Nova's here, she'd never do anything to defy the Code or the Council!"

And with that the two girls were on their way again.

It was an odd match, these two Padawans. One was quiet and intense while the other much more effervescent and boisterous. They were not two people who would have come together without an outside influence. But since they had been part of the same clan and had grown together in the cloistered crèche, it was inevitable that they would have developed sisterly ties. Indeed, they were two out of a group of twelve that had become a communal family within the Jedi Order.

They were a melting pot of different personalities and ideas. Their skills and strengths complimented and rubbed off on each other. They were young, talented, powerful and as such, their dynamics fringed on disrespectful and sometimes bordered on extreme. Their combined presence occupied the hollow place of "mother" and "father" that had never disappeared with time. It filled the gaps in teaching and this family provided a relief from the outside world. There were no pretenses among them; everyone simply was.

Examples of their behavior included the "Great Prank" some years earlier where, on the day after their initiation as Padawan Learners, they had swapped all the codes in the crèche and the Central Spire, effectively locking the Jedi Council in their Council Chamber. When a particular Jedi Knight or Jedi Master was being strict, they often found a "gift" of sorts presented to them. Master Vrook had received the patented "Gizka Treatment" to his quarters and was found by Master Kavar sometime later, a gizka sitting on his chest croaking at him while the others tried to eat his robes.

Most scandalous and most adolescent was the infatuation they had for Sith Lords long dead. Revan had announced that, "to learn thy enemy, thou must become them," and so they had adopted a Sith as their patron. This was their most secret of practices, they did not flaunt it about or wave it in the Masters' faces. "It's our personal initiation…to a much larger world," she had continued.

Nova Shadow was effectively Naga Sadow when the doors were closed and the shades pulled. Amunai Seca had become Aleema Keto. Nova didn't know what the others felt, but she much preferred her other nickname, Bondage, to the late Naga Sadow. Whoever had given her such a ridiculous name had condemned her to a life of unpleasant comparisons and coincidences. As Nova "Bondage" Shadow, she could at least live without the fear of a Sith ghost behind her.

"So what's Master Vin's assignment?" asked Amunai in a conspiratorially tone, hugging her arm tightly and leaning against her as they walked.

"He didn't tell me."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Amunai's gray eyes glittered in a rare moment of shrewd calculation. "He didn't tell you or you didn't ask him?"

"I didn't ask him. It's not my business." She eyed Amunai warily. "If he had anything to say to me, he would have done so already."

"Maybe he wants you to show some interest, didja ever think of that? You need to be more assertive of your curiosity."

"I think," said Nova slowly, "that you are merely trying to garner information so that you can spend more time with him. Ask him questions."

"How'd you know?" Amunai asked in surprise.

"Amunai, he's trained two Padawans already and has gone for many years without one until he chose me," Nova chided. "And besides, the way you sulked when you weren't chosen, how you tend to never pay attention to me when we're both in the room…you can't carry on like this. At least…" her voice dropped low, "not so obviously."

"I…I can't help it."

It was no great secret that many students of the Jedi Temple harbored some great affection for the Jedi Knights whom offered to help in their training. For some it was a platonic love and an appreciation for the concern they were offered in terms of their successful transition from Apprentice, to Padawan, to Knight. For others, it fell into the realm of admiration and infatuation. Wiser Jedi often privately took aside these youngsters, counseling them in the dangers of such passions. Yet those who more deceptive and had better control over their minds could hide these thoughts away.

Nova pried Amunai off her arm as they neared the doors to the Archive. "You have to."

"I'm trying."

The door hissed open and the chilly air of the temperature controlled Archives ruffled the few stray hairs that poked out from Nova's tight braids and Amunai's loose pony tail. Not yet afforded the luxury to let their hair down, as vanity was also a path to the darkside, they kept it tightly bound or pulled back out of their faces.

The Archive was silent but for the small clicks and whistles of the computers constantly updating the entries. One or two Jedi were scattered on various chairs about the place, quietly mulling over some elusive secret that gnawed at their minds. Onderon was located at the back of the Archive as Nova had made many trips over the past week, researching and collecting bits and pieces of information as her Master requested. It was just a matter of finding the correct holobook.

Amunai gave a twittering gasp of surprise as they rounded the shelves of a nearby section. "Hello, Master Kavaaaar!"

Nova's head snapped to the figure sitting at a plain desk, hunched over one of many holobooks that lay spread over it. He straightened and gave a weary sigh, giving a semblance of a smile. "Padawans Seca, Shadow."

Nova raised her hand in greeting, a small upward tilt on her lips as the greeted one of her teachers. "Hello, Master Kavar."

"Why alone in the Archives at this hour?" asked Amunai quickly, almost throwing herself on the table before him in her haste to sit down across from him.

Kavar raised an eyebrow at the question and in his usual fashion, thrust it back at her. "Perhaps I should ask you two what you are doing here so late?"

"Research," explained Nova, folding her cold hands into the deep sleeves of her robe. "My master is bound for Onderon tomorrow, regretfully I can not go with him, and he has asked me to quickly look up some obscure customs. It is last minute, but," she chuckled softly, "he did ask very politely. He's been too busy making preparations to do it himself."

"That's just like you, Nova," replied the Master with a pleased tone, "always being helpful."

"Well," Nova shrugged. "I try."

"And I am here," interjected Amunai, "to help Nova find the information she needs."

"Ah," Kavar nodded, "so you are being helpful too?"

"Yes."

Nova did her best not to roll her eyes. If it wasn't Master Vin, it was Master Kavar, or some other paragon of the Order. One that was preferably only slightly minted by age: a few creases indicating struggle, an intelligent and piercing gaze, a solid build from a mastery of combat…

"Nova?"

"Yes, Amunai?" Nova cocked her head and waited patiently for the comment. She'd lost track of her thoughts there for a minute.

"Don't you have research to be doing about Onderon?" Amunai pointed to some distant shelves. "Over there?"

Nova wasn't prone to anger, intense as she was at times, but something in the tone of her friend's voice pushed the wrong buttons. She could have reached out and slapped Amunai, but she didn't. Instead, with Kavar watching, she stood and left. It wasn't worth it embarrassing her, because Amunai would only be bitter about it and then the rest of the group would find out and things would get really ugly really fast. And Kavar wasn't stupid, he probably knew all about the girl's game and what she was trying to accomplish.

Musing to herself on this as she scanned the titles of the records, Nova accepted her actions as acceptable. Revan might have said something caustic and clever, causing Amunai to regret her tone and grovel slowly at Revan's feet…but then Nova was not Revan. She and Revan had similar talents, they were both clever speakers and led by example, but they differed in ideology. Revan wanted to solve every problem in one sitting; Nova dedicated herself to one task at a time.

Too many things inside her head made Nova susceptible to influence. The name "Bondage" did not refer to her love of being chained to chairs. It referred to her amazing ability to form bonds with anyone she met. She had a limited control over their actions, but she could influence their movements. These bonds were formed in combat and peacetime, but preferably worked on close contact, like a handshake.

Such a gift was carefully accepted among the Jedi Order. The ability to influence another directly was a power that could be maliciously exploited, a temptation that led to the darkside. And Nova feared that it could work both ways and lived most of her life buried beneath layers and layers of durasteel plating in her mind. Sometimes she could feel the bonds she had made moving around and scraping the outside covering of her shelter.

Only one person had ever dared to try and break the bond. That had been Revan. It had been the moment that Revan had been accepted as a Padawan at their Trials. Nova had stood silently, watching Revan slowly and deliberately make her way over. Nova had opened her mouth to make a congratulatory statement when Revan grasped her head firmly and brought their foreheads together. As soon as their skin met, Nova had felt a searing sensation ripping down the center of her body. She gave a shrill cry of pain, dropping to her knees as Revan released her. She clutched her head in silence; her body shivering as a cold, numbing sensation filled the place where Revan's bond had been. She never wanted to feel that emptiness again.

"Treatise on the Beast Riders…no…" her fingers delicately danced over the titles. "Discourse on the Combat History of the Sith Wars…no…The Life of a Civilian…no…Journey to the Wild…no…" She continued on like this for several more minutes, mulling over where she might find what she needed in the most detailed description possible. "The Obscurities of Culture…hmmm, that sounds just like what I need." She eyed the book beside it and the title just as eagerly. "The Ghosts of Dxun: The Great Sith War."

She decided to take both.

Nova had originally planned to take them back to her quarters and do her research there, but as she passed the table where Kavar sat, she noticed that he was alone again. Amunai must have left. It troubled her to see Kavar so stern and silent. It made him seem much older, more conservative.

"Keep frowning like that, Master Kavar, and you'll have wrinkles like Master Vrook." Nova dropped her holobooks on the space besides him and took a seat. Her leg bumped against his beneath the table and their elbows rested casually against each other.

"Some say age brings wisdom," he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "and others say that it only isolates us. Wrinkles will appear no matter what I do."

"Oh, Master Kavar," she nudged him playfully with her shoulder, "its too late for grim talk and philosophy. But if it makes you feel any better…I'll always remember you like this."

"Frowning and staring into a holobook?"

Nova nodded. "Yes. Frowning, staring, and sans wrinkles."

"Ah," he laughed, "I suppose that is some small consolation."

"You never know when history will need to be written. Or rewritten," Nova added as an afterthought. "Though I'm sure the scholars would like a reason as to why Master Kavar was frowning."

"Well," Kavar gestured to the pile of books around them, "I am doing research of my own."

"On what?"

"Revan asked me an interesting question today, about the Mandalorians, and I couldn't seem to find the answer. So here I've been all day, combing through various lore and mythology."

Nova frowned, her voice strict. "So you haven't eaten at all?"

Kavar looked mildly amused by the question as he skimmed the text. "No, not really. Why, is that a problem?"

"You'll never learn anything without some food in you." Nova clucked in mock scorn. "Force, Kavar, Republic scientists have been saying it for years. Food helps your brain. No food equals no remembering tomorrow morning."

"I had a hunger for knowledge which I've been happily sating, Padawan." He shut the holobook and turned to face her his knee coming into contact with hers again. "Tell me, did you eat?"

Nova raised an eyebrow. "You are trying to turn my point against me." She touched her fingers to her temple and then quickly pointed them at Kavar. "I know how you Jedi Masters work. Master Vin does it all the time."

"It's usually a very successful method of proving a point." He smiled, "and what could Master Vin be making you confess to?"

"Oh its not me," Nova quickly glanced around the rest of the Archive. "Its Amunai. He's always questioning her presence."

"She does have a tendency to emerge from the wall. That is very true." Kavar scowled at the thought.

"Ah-ah," Nova chided, "that is a Master Vrook face."

"I don't scowl at her actions but her intent."

"Its still scowling and its still going to give you wrinkles."

"What am I doing arguing with you, Nova?" he heaved a great sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I'm never going to win."

Nova gave a triumphant smile. "Well, if I can't beat you with my lightsaber, at least I can get you with my words. Its not often that it happens, but it does."

"Which reminds me," interjected Kavar before she could go on. "You fought well yesterday. I don't know if I told you that during our lesson." His smile was proud. "You've learnt a lot since our last session. You actually managed to break my viper hold."

Nova winced, remembering. "How's your knee, Kavar?"

"Its been injured before," he said quietly, "but its always healed."

"No lasting damage? I didn't see you limping during our fight…"

"The Healers are capable of mending sprains and tears of all kinds. In any event, your kick did little that hadn't been done before."

"Still," Nova ducked her head guiltily, "I didn't mean to kick quite so hard."

Kavar laughed at the innocent movement. "Come now, you'd think I'd be the one apologizing for ruining your hair."

Absently touching the shortened braids on either side of her head, Nova shrugged. "I suppose it could have used a cut. Though I did like it when my hair was longer."

"We all miss the things that bring us joy."

"I knew you liked my hair!" teased Nova, grinning from ear to ear.

The Jedi Guardian looked taken aback for a minute and then gave a rather elusive smile. "I'm not at liberty to say what I really thought about it."

"Kavar!"

He ran a hand across the close cropped hair of his own head. "I am not the person to judge about hair, Padawan, if you haven't noticed."

"Hey," Nova tapped table lightly for emphasis, "at least you've got hair. Many on the Council don't."

"Many on the Council are also non-humanoid and don't grow hair."

"I was actually speaking more of Master Vrook and Master Zez-Kai Ell." She paused for a moment, considering something of importance. "Though Master Zez-Kai Ell at least has that nifty earring."

"You are…" Kavar chose his words carefully, "very discriminatory against Master Vrook today."

"No," Nova shook her head, "not really. Sometimes he just needs to smile a bit more."

"He was like that even when I was a Padawan."

"It's hard to imagine you as a padawan, Master Kavar."

"I was no different than any other." His smile was rueful, "sometimes even Jedi Masters forget that, I think. You should probably ask Master Vin about his younger days. He was a contemporary of mine."

Nova smothered the feelings swirling about in her stomach at his winsome expression. In order to do it, she pulled out a trick from Revan's bag. "Oh? Was it shockingly scandalous?"

The question earned a bark of laughter from Kavar.

"Well, was it?"

"It depends what you mean by scandalous."

"Did he like to pull pranks on unsuspecting Jedi Masters?"

"I'm beginning to feel worried about your prejudice against the Masters of the Order," Kavar commented, his tone idle but it was definitely of warning. "I would suggest you reign in these impulses."

A hot flush crept up Nova's cheeks at the scolding. She felt like sleeping, of forgetting that she'd managed to invoke that tone of indifference he liked to use when he was irritated. She'd heard him use it at everyone of her friends but her, and she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

"There is no ill will against any of the Elders," she replied evenly, "but sometimes it feels as though their harshness towards us is - "

"It is like that for all students, Nova," Kavar explained. "Jedi Masters do not single out a particular individual and punish them. Those who do wrong are reproved, no matter who they are."

"But the hammer falls the hardest on the brightest."

"The brightest then," suggested the Guardian, "should make sure they stay out from underneath the blow."

Nova turned to her reading then, trying to hide her shameful eyes by forcing herself into her research. She felt her cheeks burning hotter and hotter and could almost feel herself slipping under the table for a nice, long sleep. But it was hard to do either when she felt Kavar's eyes on the side of her face. She felt pinpricks of heat where he looked.

She had a headache. And it was spreading.

Revan came to her mind. "Tying your hair back like that, Nova, is going to give you headaches. Be realistic. Either wear it in a loose plait or a bun, but pinning it up in that fashion will be the end of you."

Nova had prided herself on her discipline, but now, tired and guilty, she didn't think she could handle it. Forgetting about Kavar and her research, her fingers picked out the pins expertly. The braids on either side of her head came tumbling down and instantly the pressure began to relieve in her skull. She unwound the cords that kept them from falling apart and as soon as her hair came free, her mind suddenly seemed to clear.

"I have such a headache, Master Kavar," she placed the clips and ties on the far side of the table. "Having my hair up like that for such a long time probably cuts off circulation to my brain."

Kavar examined her face for a minute and then broke out into a sly smile. "Perhaps you should have something to eat to remedy that?"

"Urhhh…I knew you were going to say that!"

The Jedi Master skimmed over the text she was reading and then spied the title of the book she had planned to read in private. "Ghosts of Dxun: The Great Sith War?" He looked at her in surprise. "Are you even allowed to read that?"

Nova stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I didn't think the Master of the Archives put a restriction on reading material."

"You may wish to check with Master Atris first. She would know what's best."

"Well, do you think its polite to call her at this time?" She gestured to her chronometer. "Why don't you make that decision in her stead, Kavar. You've trained a Padawan before."

"The question you're asking me to answer is if I think you're mature enough to handle the information within the holobook." Kavar reached for it and held up between his strong fingers. "The horrors of the past are not something any Jedi Master wishes to expose a member of the younger generation to. Not if they can help it."

"Kavar, within a year, perhaps two, I will be a Jedi Knight and become exposed to these horrors."

Kavar shook his head. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

"You know the Mandalorians won't stop," Nova brushed her fingertips against his hand and brought it down to rest on the table. She carefully plucked the holobook from it. "You know their lust for battle won't be quenched by the deaths of a few colonists. They will continue to kill and kill until they have beaten every one of us."

"The Mandalorians are acting without a purpose," responded Kavar calmly, "we must discover it before we take any action."

"Kavar, aren't you listening to me?" Nova leaned beside him, her eyes wide with frustration. "People are dying. People we are sworn to protect? How can we not help them?"

"The Republic - "

Nova gave an angry grunt. "So our protection does not extend to those not a part of the Republic?" the revulsion in her voice was evident. "How can we seek to call ourselves the 'Guardians of the Peace' if we merely protect the people who are already protected?"

"Nova…" Kavar said sternly, "calm yourself." He placed a hand on her forearm and quickly found it in the vice like grip of her free hand. She stroked it, her nails scratching along the skin in a delicate fashion.

"I'm trying to be reasonable, Kavar, but this is a matter of life and death. Don't you feel them dying on the Outer Rim? Can't you hear them screaming?" Nova looked at him, and Kavar saw the same expression that had been haunting many of the Padawans lately. The eyes were large, almost completely round and the mouth was puckered severely…almost like a living corpse. "Have we lost sense of ourselves? Why can't you feel them?" She was pleading, "why can't you feel them?" The questions, the questions… "have the eldest become so distant to the cries of their brothers? Who will remain if we let them conquer us?"

Indeed, thought Kavar, who would remain?

The encroach of war was having a strange effect on the youngest of the Order, Kavar had begun to notice. To see such rational people like Nova switch in and out of fright and frenzy, to appear for one moment as normal students and then the next like walking zombies worried him. Try as he might, he couldn't just write the thing off as a lack of sleep. "It's been a long night for the both of us," said Kavar gently. "Come, we should take our leave of this place and get some rest." He stood and laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her.

"Don't you trust me, Kavar?"

Kavar had almost missed the question, so quietly it had been asked. But upon hearing the tone begging for affirmation, the desire to be placed upon a pedestal, as Revan was, Kavar instantly understood the subtext to the question. Nova was walking in the shadows of people who would become great Jedi Knights. Though she cast her own long shadow, Nova disappeared into obscurity when compared to the more publicly known of her friends.

If she was bitter, it was because perhaps the hammer did fall hardest on her when trouble arose. She was the only one who would accept the punishment without argument. Though Kavar knew that such a thing would not last forever. She had the true spirit of a Jedi, something that was rarer and rarer to see. And it moved him.

He sat back down and intended to give her a few words of encouragement, some more praise…but then

Nova slowly raised her gaze from his chest to meet his eyes.

In that instance, the Padawan and the Jedi Master shared a look then, one that would not be forgotten by either of them for years to come. There was an understanding between them then that transcended the Code of the Jedi and the dictates of the Jedi Order.

"You know I would fight the Mandalorians if I could," confessed Kavar, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

Nova placed a tentative hand on his neck and then wrapped her other arm about him, splaying itself across the top of his back. She hugged herself close. "I know you would, Kavar."

Kavar stiffened at the gesture, but did not pull away. "But you know that I must trust in the wisdom of the Council, Nova."

She nodded her head, her cheek rubbing against his hard shoulder. His voice was vibrating through her and it was a very odd sensation indeed. "I wish you wouldn't."

"What you are suggesting will probably never happen. But," Kavar grasped her arms firmly and pulled her away so that she was sitting directly in front of him, "if it does, I want to warn you. If you leave to fight the Mandalorians, then I can not protect you from the others on the Jedi Council. I can not predict what they will do to you for violating the Code."

"I am not afraid, Kavar," said Nova resolutely, boxed in at all sides by his broad frame, the table and the back of her chair. She tilted her chin up, a proud gesture she had seen the others do when explaining a point of extreme importance. "I do not fear the punishment of the Jedi, I care only what happens to the people suffering because of my idleness."

The Guardian shook his head, sighing disappointedly. "Then you have learnt nothing. There may be greater repercussions to this war than you think."

"'Problems must be solved one at a time,'" recited Nova, "as is said by the Masters."

"So the old teachings are now convenient for you to use?"

She gave him a strange, pained look. "You want me to promise that I won't go. That if there is a crusade, that I won't follow."

Kavar's silence gave away his answer.

Nova dropped her forehead against his before daring to meet his eyes. "You know what my answer is. It won't change anything, Kavar."

He nodded, his smile weak. "It won't change anything."

Years later, it was written into history that shortly after her knighthood, Revan called all Jedi willing to fight the Mandalorians to her side. She recruited the failures of the Order, those who had failed to become Jedi, as well as full fledged Jedi Knights and Padawans. Though her Jedi troops did not even compare to the amount of militia she had persuaded to the join the cause, they were a formidable group. They became the glue and the morale that held the Republic Fleet together and never failed to inspire the troops with their lawfulness and goodness.

All of Revan's "family" had followed her. They had joined one by one, pledging their lives to end the threat of the Mandalorians and restore peace to the galaxy. The last to sign her name was Nova Shadow, and in her script she sealed her future. Indecision had been overridden by conscience and as she walked up the ramp to the shuttle that would soon carry her to one of the Republic Warships waiting in space, she turned back to look at the congregation of Jedi only once. She sought the eyes of her old friend, Master Kavar. The duel she would have with him was real, he would not hold back. He could not stand by her…and as a result she could not stand by him.

It won't change anything.

Anything…

Nova patted the Disciple's hand gratefully. "Well, at least I have your vote of confidence. Thank you, Disciple."

"It is my pleasure, but there is nothing to thank me for."

"I think I'm going to lie down before we get to Onderon. I have a small headache."

"Really?" The Disciple examined her closely. "Ah, I think I know why you get such frequent headaches."

Laughing slowly, Nova pointed to her head. "It's my hair, right?"

The Disciple nodded. "Yes. Having it in such tight braids is adding tension to your skull and, in blunt terms, causing you pain. You might leave your hair down for a bit," he suggested gently.

A tremor ran through the Exile's body. "No, that's alright, Di. I'll just go lie down instead. But, uh, thanks," she smiled at him fondly, "for the advice."

Slipping quietly out of the common room, she walked carefully down the corridor that led to cargo storage. She found it easier to sleep with the hum of machines beneath her, their constant rhythm lulling her into a hypnotic state of sleep. Malachor had been caused by machines, much of the destruction wrought in the galaxy was created by them…but Nova exploited them for their healing properties. Fixing them soothed the mind; programming them kept the mind alert and sharp; sleeping near them provided an almost dreamless sleep, only vague and blurry echoes of the past daring to creep forward.

She curled up near one of the service panels, lying her cheek on the cool decking of the ship. The panel was warm against her back and the low and steady thrumming of the hyperspace engines soothed her. They matched in time with the pounding of her head and Nova found her mind wandering. She floated from one piece of scenery to another, slipping in between trees and oceans until at last she found herself alone again on the Hawk. She stared up into the pair of stormy blue eyes that were looking intensely down at her.

I have my disciplines, Kavar…I have my disciplines.