Falling freely, Azekel frantically tried to spin around and distinguish up from down, slowing his descent with slightly with a gentle push from the force. Seconds before he hit the ground the Knight spun around and thumped down on his boots, rolling rapidly away from the falling lightsaber of the Sith, who had followed him down to the Hangar floor.
"Stay off of him, Sith!" the Mandalorian cried angrily as he rushed up to where the two combatants faced each other. "The Jedi is mine!" and with that he charged the black-robed warrior.
Jakome was shocked at how well both of the two fought as he pulled back his saber to watch. The two red sabers hissed and crashed viciously against one another, their masters grunting and charging, countering and ducking feverishly as the Jedi stood back, nearly overwhelmed by the speed and tenacity of the two hate-driven fighters before him. The Mandalorian obviously had an upper hand on the Sith with the heavy armor he wore that could no doubt field off a wild saber slice, but the swordsmanship was definitely on the side of the Sith as he whirled and spun furiously to counter and batter the mercenary's sloppy offenses and last-second defense moves. Jakome couldn't decide who to jump in for, but he soon had no choice as the Sith broke free from a blade lock and cast his pale hand out, sending the Mandalorian flying backwards into a pile of cautious spectators who fell and fled like a pack of hunted rentarons.
"Now your turn, Jedi!" laughed the Sith as he wiped a film of sweat from his brow and faced the Knight. Squaring off, the Knight leapt forward to somersault over the Sith, slashing at an odd angle with shocking precision at the Sith's throat; a killing blow that was barely parried as the dark Jedi glanced his blade high and flipped backwards and away with an angry snarl.
"Your mercy will be your undoing, Jedi!" He screeched, but the fear in his voice was just as evident as his hatred as he thrust forward again to be parried by the Jedi's green saber. Spinning wildly away and tossing his saber to his inside hand, the Jedi swung upwards and through his dark opponent's midsection, tearing him open from the inside of his thigh to the opposite armpit across his body; dropping him with a horrible, hate filled scream of pain and anger. The Sith dropped to his knees, his singed flesh momentarily visible before he fell forward onto his face and moved no more.
"Goddamned Jedi." A scratchy voice groaned from behind him as the bounty hunter rose to his feet amidst the dispersing crowd of spectators. "I could've taken him."
"You are indeed a strong swordsman, and have a superior potential for the force, mercenary, but the Sith are dangerous beyond your abilities." Jakome replied.
"I could've iced him, easy, you damned Jedi, like I can still do to you." Replied the Mandalorian hatefully as his lightsaber once again sprang to life.
Azekel sighed heavily, shaking his head sadly as he held his free hand out, pulling the gleaming red blade from the mercenary's gloved fist and spinning neatly into his own. He looked it over as the Mandalorian cried out in surprise and anger.
"A weathered, ancient blade, no doubt, but effective, perhaps, with some repair and modification ..."
"Give it back, Jedi, or you'll be killed seven times over before your miserable corpse hits the ground!" growled the mercenary threateningly, his right wrist flashing up to fire a blaster round straight at the Jedi's face.
Dropping his opponent's blade, the Jedi brought his saber up to deflect the blow back towards where the Mandalorian had been standing, but the armored man had meanwhile dove to the ground and pulled the red saber weakly across the floor and back into his hand, rolling hard over his shoulders and swinging the deadly light blade hard over his head in a move that would have castrated the Jedi had he not back flipped safely away. Landing lightly on his boots, Azekel shot out a hand to pummel the charging Mandalorian backwards, flying back wildly to crash with a sickening thud into the far wall, his helmet jerking up for a moment in a stubborn attempt to stand up, before he slumped, unconscious against the wall with a final curse and a groan of dull pain.
"So, what have you brought us, Jakome?" Good news so soon from the Glade system?" echoed a rough voice from somewhere far above and to the right. "What's this?"
"A Mandalorian!" shouted another voice, off to the left.
"It's Fett! I thought Commander Solo had finished him off years ago!" rang in a third voice, and the mercenary heard the distinct 'click' of a blaster being drawn from a hip holster.
"NO! Wait, Lei!" shouted another, as three to four fuzzy shadows became suddenly outlined against a glaringly bright light. The Mercenary tried weakly to reach for his visor light adjuster through the haze, but his arms and body felt strangely heavy as he went limp again.
"He's moving; why don't we just blast him now and avoid all the trouble that comes with these damned Mandalorians?"
"He's a skilled and talented potential student, Lei; he is already an expert by normal standards with the lightsaber, and he can even utilize the force for limited bursts of superhuman speed and other simple skills. We have to take him to Master Skywalker immediately. Come on, grab his legs, he can't break the titaron lines I strung him with."
There was a brief moment of shuffling about him, and then the mercenary felt strangely weightless as the shadowy silhouettes grew larger and larger in front of his visor, and then straightened as he once again lost consciousness.
"This is strange, Azekel," Luke Skywalker said, his kind and enlightened features in a confused frown as he studied the Mercenary's helmet in his hands. "No doubt this is true Mandalorian armor, not Fett's, to be sure, but the jury is still out on whether he's dead or not ..."
"He is very skilled in the use of a lightsaber," Azekel commented neutrally, "and, perhaps even more stunning, his focus on the force is very strong, only unguided, without direction."
"I don't doubt it, Jakome," Skywalker agreed, his dark blue eyes closing for a moment as he sighed slightly, "I felt the force in him before you brought him to my chamber ... so much hate in him, though ..."
Azekel stepped forward to the Jedi Master's side as Skywalker examined the other articles of the mercenary's armor and clothing spread out on the table in front of them.
"That problem has been overcome in the past, Master." He said softly, his eyes staring down into the blank and tinted visor of the helmet before him, "Remember how you found me? I had nothing but anger for the whole galaxy in me, but you helped me to change that ..."
Skywalker sighed again, his mind focusing on the senses all about him as he weighed the choice he had with this mysterious new series of events. Surely Jakome wasn't thinking of teaching him himself? Azekel had just passed the trials to reach Jedi Knighthood, and wouldn't be ready to face the far more daunting task of teaching a student; especially one who had tried to kill him only a few hours before.
"Azekel, I don't think it'd be such a good idea for you to ..." but his student cut him off.
"No, it wouldn't, Master; I am not ready for a protégée. But someone could teach him, perhaps. The force is so strong in him!"
Luke put the helmet lightly on the table in front of him and began to pace slowly back across the room to his meditation perch above the windows over the courtyards of beautiful, tropical Yavin 5; home to the newly reestablished Jedi Academy. A handful of students, all known by sight to Skywalker, many since before they learned to talk, ran about in the gardens below; children, seen as gifted and potential candidates for Jedi Knighthood by the first of Luke's personally selected Knights, the children of all different species and ages across the galaxy flaunted their sensational powers, using their limited teachings in the force to bend blades of grass, lift small pebbles or splash water from the reflecting pools on their mates. This is what Luke had to protect; these precious hopefuls and future leaders and protectors of the free galaxy, as well as the older, more harshly trained adolescent and young adult students who were no doubt huddled inside, lost in meditation trying to lift boulders or shift piles of stone from across the room, or engaging in mock battles with their safety lightsabers under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Could he, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, be putting all of these hopefuls and successes in jeopardy by trying to take in this ominous hopeful outcast? He breathed deeply once more as he felt his student's eyes on his back, then turned.
"The young man will be given the choice to attend the academy, if he so chooses, and made to feel at home while he stays with us." He sighed, hoping he had just made the right choice, and not doomed the students and teachers below to some horrible fate hidden behind the battered faceplate in front of him.