Mya slumped, exhausted against the far wall of the warehouse chamber the Sith Lord had chosen to call his headquarters on Corellia. The Twi'lek female sighed, frustrated as her lightsaber, a relic the Sith had picked up in a pawn shop for an incredibly low price since it hadn't worked when he'd bought it, snapped off in her hands.

"I'm sorry, H'layth; I'm just too tired." The young alien complained; she'd just been disarmed for the third time in a row, and easily. "I've been working all day, and I haven't gotten any better at all, only worse!"

Diabolic knelt down at her side, his hand reaching out to comfort his new apprentice. Now was not the time for anger and motivation, he knew; she was too new to the force to be pushed too far all at once; it had only been a month since he'd met her in the tavern in the red light district and convinced her to study with him. To be honest, the Sith didn't even know how he'd even learned to do the things he was teaching her; he'd opened his eyes that day not long ago in the dark laboratory and had just … known.

"You've done well for a beginner." He told her, and in fact she had; the force was with her, but undisciplined and largely untapped. "Don't expect to learn everything overnight; it takes a long time." He said as she fondled her lightsaber hilt absently, her eyes glued to the ground.

"How long did it take you to learn all that you know, Master H'layth?" She aske,d looking up at him suddenly, "Are you one of the new Jedi Masters I've heard about on Yavin 4?" The Sith blinked in surprise.

"No." He said, "I'm no Jedi, Mya." She looked confused, even slightly suspicious.

"No?" She asked, "Then how do you know the things you do? You move like I've heard a Jedi does; you can do things I never thought were possible."

"I use the force, true, but I do not share the weakness of the Jedi."

"Weakness?" The Twi'lek laughed, "Jedi don't have weaknesses! They were the Republic's most unstoppable warriors!" She exclaimed with a bright smile that died as she glimpsed the look on her Master's face.

"The Jedi," He said, "Are strong, true, but their mindset is weak; they use the force to protect the weak and unworthy, even allowing those wretched creatures into their ranks."

"But …"

"They think the force is a shield to protect these worthless charges, and not the weapon it is to empower the strong; to grant superiority to those strong enough to reach for it."

"Yes, Master." She replied softly, nodding slightly, "I suppose it is quite useful …"

"It is very useful, Mya," he smiled again, "And I will teach you to use its true power to force your will over those who would seek to harm you for your differences."

"Differences?"

"You are unique, my apprentice," He said, feeling awkward at calling the girl his apprentice; she was, after all, to all appearances, about his age. She was twenty-four. "The force is strong in you, Mya, and there are many enemies out there who would seek to harm you simply for this reason; that you are gifted and they are not. That they are weak." He believed this, but it was somehow hard to explain it to this young Twi'lek; she seemed so … innocent, he almost felt bad for his intentions on teaching her the dark side. She went back to toying with her lightsaber absently.

"Come, stand up, Mya." He said, standing himself and holding out his hand. She took it and rose quickly with a small smile, her face just inches in front of his own. Enter awkwardness. He turned away on the pretense of coughing, and walked a short distance away, his hand falling away from hers as she looked back down to the ground. He sensed … disappointment in the young alien. Great, he thought, my apprentice has a crush on me.

"Should I retire, Master H'layth?" She asked from behind him. He turned, looked her over, and sensed her new resolution to impress him. She was tired, but determination shone in her eyes still.

"Show me the first set, standard attack, once more, then you may rest." He told her, and her lightsaber snapped up almost immediately as she sunk into the correct pose. She began striking, her eyes focused and intent on the room around her as he sensed the focus in her mind, enhanced by the force, she would make a great warrior when properly trained, and, in the meantime, he was constantly practicing his own strange skills, exploring deeper the depth of the dark side at his command.

"Good," He told her, "Good! Faster, faster! Use the force; it can give you new speed!" And the girl sped up, her body beginning to blur as he felt her mind open to the atmosphere of the warehouse, allowing the power of the force to ever so slightly flow through her limbs. He smiled.

Jaster Mereel sat in meditation in the study chamber of the Jedi Academy, many lightyears away. Long ago the bacta chambers had healed his swollen and now scarred eye, and he'd already begun reconstructing his helmet; welding the wires and frame back together to readjust his various visual enhancement devices and readouts displays. The project was all but complete, and the young apprentice had retired to the study lounges outside of the Academy library to get his mind off the complicated wires and parts. He thought back to the mysterious Sith he'd encountered on Sadomine Prime; the Mandalorian who all Jaster's senses had told him bore an even closer relation to him than that of the same race. He had sensed a deep familiarity with the older man, though to all his knowledge Jaster Mereel was an orphan without a family or even an existing people to call his own. He never thought he'd had any brothers; until now. The feeling had been too strong to deny, and the Mandalorian cringed at the horrible corruption and warped hatred he'd felt emanating from the Sith towards him. He had sensed great confusion and conflict in the Sith's mind, as well; almost as if he hadn't known who or what he really was; almost as if all he had known was unconditional hatred.

"Jaster Mereel?" The apprentice sensed the new presence a second before the doors hissed open and the voice hailed him from across the room.

"Yeah?" He asked, opening his eyes; the force was strong with this presence, though he doubted he'd ever felt it before.

He saw in front of him a man of medium-height with dark brown hair that joined graying sideburns and a managed but still long beard and moustache. The man's eyes were gentle and kind, but denoted a strong mind and resolve behind them that contradicted his easygoing, relaxed posture in the doorway. He wore simple trousers and boots with a thick long shirt all topped off with a dark brown leather shoulder strap that crossed his chest and connected to his worn belt. A blaster and a lightsaber hung from either side of the belt. The man crossed the room to extend a calloused hand and a warm smile to Mereel.

"The name's Katarn," He introduced himself, "Kyle Katarn." Jaster almost couldn't believe his ears. Kyle Katarn was a name much read about and referenced in the Academy's history logs of recent Jedi history, and most of the students knew the history by heart. Kyle Katarn grew up on one of the moons in the Sullust system, reaching an appropriate age; the teenager had enlisted in and joined the Imperial Army out of the system Academy. Unbeknownst to him, Katarn's father, Morgan Katarn, was in fact a Rebel spy. After Morgan had been betrayed by one of his many contacts, the man was killed, and his death was covered up from one of the Empire's most promising young commanders, Kyle. Kyle was told his father had been killed by Rebel spies, implanting the young commander with a terrible hatred for the Rebellion against the Empire. It was not until Rebel sympathizer and part-time spy Jan Orrs told Katarn the truth about his father's death that the man began his career smuggling, spying, and generally fighting in support of the Rebel Alliance as an expertly trained Imperial deserter.

Later, Katarn had found out he was a force-sensitive and had begun to use the force under the guidance of his own digression and some wary advice of Master Luke Skywalker. After defeating the powerful Dark Jedi Jarek at the still-hidden Valley of the Jedi, the Jedi potential abandoned his force training for fear of the Dark Side and didn't embrace it again until the recent Dark Jedi uprising of Desann; a corrupted Jedi who'd used the Valley of the Jedi to artificially empower unlucky captives and Imperial remnant troops with the power of the force. Katarn, working with Luke Skywalker and the Jedi Academy students of several years ago, had defeated Desann and the way-ward hero had chosen to fully embrace again his force-sensitivity, and had been working closely with Master Skywalker and the Academy ever since, though Jaster had never met him before.

"Master Katarn!" The Mandalorian stood to address the New Republic hero, and gave a short bow. Mereel had always preferred Katarn's history to most of the other Masters he'd read about; the Jedi had one of the more interesting stories in the archives, and had accomplished quite a lot even before realizing he was a force-sensitive.

"Please, kid, spare me the formality!" Katarn laughed, "I just got back from the New Senate headquarters, I've had enough of Mr. this and Master that; just call me Kyle …" Mereel liked the Jedi even more than ever after hearing that.

"Sorry; that's what they teach us here." Jaster apologized with a grin, "I've read so much about you and I've got to say it's a pretty big honor to meet you face to face." Katarn smirked at that.

"I'd like to see what old Skywalker has written about me sometime; I've never really been a big fan of his earlier records." Jaster could barely contain his laughter; Skywalker, for all his knowledge as a Jedi Master, wasn't always the most exciting writer when it came to the records.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Kyle?" the Mandalorian asked next, curious as to how and why the legendary hero of the New Republic apparently had come to see him. Katarn seated himself and motioned for Mereel to follow.

"Actually, I'm here to talk to you for our good friend Master Jakome." The Jedi began, and Jaster's enthusiasm abruptly died. "I've heard quite a bit about your … tendencies, as well as your interesting origins."

"He told you to scold me, then?" Jaster could barely believe it; he gets one chance to talk to one of his most enamored of the Jedi it turns out Jakome just wanted to lecture him again, through somebody else.

"Scold you?" Katarn looked confused, "No, no, I don't do that stuff very well; I'm here because Master Jakome has asked me to talk to you about the Dark Side of the force."

"So … you're here to scold me." Mereel was lost; it was obvious Jakome had told the Council about his recent behavior on Sodomine Prime, but why was Katarn trying to avoid the issue? Katarn was laughing.

"Look, kid; Azekel told me you've been having some troubles with controlling your temper, and he didn't want to bring it up with the Council directly. He told me about it and asked if I could come talk to you about it." The Jedi told Jaster, "It might not be so highlighted in my history records, but I've had quite a hard time resisting the Dark Side myself, and Azekel figured he didn't have the sort of … personal background I've had to really let you know the dangers of misusing the force."

"Jakome didn't think …" Jaster was confused; his Master usually acted like he knew it all, "he knew enough?"

"Not many Jedi today have had the sorts of conflicts I've had with the Dark Side, Jaster." Katarn was becoming serious, and Jaster was loosening up now that the scolding was out of the question; this might be interesting. "I grew up with a lot of anger, and the hatred was all I had when I learned about the Empire's betrayal of me, right around the time I first started learning to communicate with the force …"