The Mandalorian awoke with a start, his hands raised instinctively to cover his face. No helmet, no armor ... no weapons ... He assessed his situation quickly and as calmly as he could. The Jedi! He thought, a brief wave of anger spreading through him, warming his limbs enough to make him suddenly aware of the cold about him. His eyes, cold and grey, surveyed the room about him, searching the corners and blank, white walls for any hint of a weapon or covering; he noticed with a scowl that he lay on top of a long table in the center of a large, bright white room, a single wooden chair and metal table set near the door. Standing tentatively, he noticed his clothing; loose, hospital-like robes with no under garments; he walked to the table. There lay before him an array of odd medical supplies and some used Bacta containers, as well as a hypodermic needle marked with the medical insignia for an anesthetic. He'd been drugged and apparently worked on, he surmised, though he felt no different than usual, only a slight ache in his head where ... where the Jedi had knocked him out cold against the hangar wall on Glade 6! He growled menacingly to himself as he further inspected the chair and table; the wood, a softer, smoother grain than most trees on the dry moons of Glade, evidenced the Mandalorian's guess that the Jedi had taken him off the Glade system and to some planet where the foliage in place was softer, more fine ... swamp trees, he decided, from the vast swampy jungles of Yavin 5, the home planet of the newly reestablished Jedi Academy.
"Damn that Jedi!" he cursed under his breath, "I'll have to kill a hundred of them to get out of the hospital alone!" He checked the hypodermic needle; nearly empty, with probably only enough drug to knock out a single guard or orderly; he rummaged about the stripped walls and room, looking for another means of escape or defense.
Suddenly, the Mandalorian froze by the wall; concentrating hard, he verified his force-guided instincts; someone was coming, and they weren't just some ordinary medic or guard; the sense of the force about this entity was stronger than anything the mercenary had ever felt before. He ducked quickly behind the door, knowing how foolish the gesture was; this being would no doubt sense exactly where he was before he'd even opened the door. He held the needle tight in his fist and tried to control his breathing.
"Hello, Mandalorian guest." said a voice outside the door. "A sense you are awake and doing well?"
The mercenary took a deep breath. It was hopeless, yes, but the warrior in him told him to try anyway ... he held his mouth shut.
"He is awake; I feel his anger, though he seeks to mask himself, Master Skywalker." Said another voice, muffled through the metal door plating, but still audible. It was THAT Jedi, the one who'd taken him here, as well as the infamous Luke Skywalker, vanquisher of the Emperor as well as the tyrant Sith, Darth Vader. He quickly weighed his options; either face-off, weaponless and nearly naked, with the greatest Jedi Master since the clone wars and perhaps his best student, or give himself up now and try to sneak his way off the planet at a later opportunity.
"What have you brought me here for, Jedi?" He asked thinly, through the door.
"We only wish to speak with you, friend." It was Skywalker, "Azekel here tells me you have an amazing ability in the force, and we'd like to see if we can help you develop it."
The Mandalorian smirked, despite his hopeless situation.
"What the hell gives you the right to bring me here?" He ordered, his anger ebbing out his caution.
"Well, you did attack one of my students ..." Skywalker's tone was calm yet commanded attention, this Jedi wasn't to be screwed with in the wrong situation, so, the mercenary decided, he'd screw with him some more, just to piss him off.
"You repulsive Jedi killed my people! The Mandalorians were ousted from our home world, hunted and destroyed! There is only me left now, thanks to you bastard Jedi!" He spat angrily, feeling his hate and fury build up within him, knowing Skywalker felt it too, but not caring anymore. He wanted his revenge, he'd earned it for years, cultivating his strange gifts in the force and wielding that ancient red lightsaber, the one whom Darth Vader himself had been rumored to have used during his holocaust on the Jedi after the opening of the Clone Wars.
"I understand your pain at this tragic historic event, Mandalorian;" Skywalker replied, his tone soothing and gentle in the face of his captive's anger, "but you must understand; of the participants in that war of misunderstanding not one survives today, I try to teach everyone here about the truth of the incident; that your tyrant opposition fingered unjustly you Mandalorians for crimes to the Republic and incited a war."
"Lies! They were all lies, Skywalker!"
"I understand your argument, Mandalorian, I do, and we here will seek to sooth your anger and quell your hate; we can guide you to inner calmness and oneness with the justice of the force." The Jedi Master's voice explained as the mercenary's grip on the needle loosened somewhat. "Listen, whoever you are, the Jedi have since our order began sought only to bring justice and peace to the galaxy; if you join us, let us help you release your anger and hate, then you will be in a position to make sure no such injustices as your people's genocide ever happen again."
The hospital corridor was silent for several minutes while the two Jedi stood outside the metal doorway to the mercenary's room, the door unlocked by Skywalker's orders, and waiting for a reply from the Mandalorian. Suddenly, the door opened with a soft hiss and the two Jedi stepped back, seeing the robed and still cautious man before them.
"My name is Jaster Mereel," He said, "named for one of the last great warriors of my people before the clone wars."