Kirn Torek of Corellia

"Fear is the path the dark side, young one. When you are tempted to be fearful or angered, turn away."

"But Uncle," a young Kirn had said. "How can I not be afraid? What do I do when I feel frightened?"

Master Tek Orell knelt down to become eye-level with his young nephew, "When you trust your fate to the will of the force, what is left to worry about?"

Kirn shook his head, "I don't understand."

"You will one day, youngling. Run along now, and promise me you will remember everything I have taught you."

The small boy nodded before turning around and running into the waiting arms of his mother. As Tek looked on, Yayla, his sister and Kirn's mother, gave him a solemn nod.

Tek set out across the Corellian plain, thinking back to a conversation he had with his sister just hours before.

"He should have been trained as a jedi, Yayla," he had stated, speaking of his young nephew.

Yayla had not been so convinced, "No, Tek, with all the political tension between Masters and the Chancellor, this Force-forsaken war, and a the rise of these Siths in recent years, I'm quite certain that I want my son to be anything but a jedi."

"His midichlorian count is far above average. He should have been on Coruscant-

"The moment he was born?" Yayla interrupted hashly.

"Is that what this is about? Your attachment to your son?"

Yayla waved a finger at him, "Don't go preaching your jedi teachings to me. I've made my decision. I am doing what is best for my son. Do you think I liked living on Tatooine?"

Tek knew full well that she had gone there, escaping the borders of the Republic to save her son from what she considered to be a life of slavery as a jedi. "I stayed on that horrible dust ball," Yayla announced, "until I was certain he was to old to be trained."

"He's only five," Tek had said slyly, "There are masters who would argue that he might still be trained."

Yayla narrowed her eyes, "My son is never going to set foot on Coruscant."

Tek was about to argue when a strange feeling of foreboding seemed to come over him. It was as if he glimpsed the future. Yayla had watched as his determined demeanor melted away, and he looked troubled.

"If that is your decision," Tek had said, moving out of the room.

"Wait," Yayla had said, "I know you better than that. You don't give up so easily. Why are you giving in?"

"I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both." Tek shook his head, "Maybe you are right. Keep him as far away from Coruscant as you possibly can."

Now, crossing the plain, he looked back at young Kirn, knowing that this was probably the last time he would ever see his nephew.

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Kirn Torek sat on the ground, his back against the far wall of the hanger bay. Looking over the massive room, he thought back to the last day he had seen his uncle alive. He had overheard that argument so long ago. Now that he was older, he understood the position of both his mother and his uncle.

He also knew what had kept him on Corellia. Tek had seen a vision and knew of the coming destruction of the temple. He knew that if Kirn were to be a youngling at the temple, he would be massacred.

Now in the rebel hanger bay, Kirn held the cold metal of the lightsaber's handle, turning the weapon in his hand. Memory took him away, reminding him of the day he had first come to own such a weapon.

He had been called inside the house by his mother. A small wooden box had been waiting for him on the table. With all the excitement of a seven year old boy, Kirn had thrown the box open, yet when he saw the contents, he face grew grim. It was a lightsaber, but not just any lightsaber, it was his uncle's. He had used it a few times, when his uncle helped him through saber exercises and taught him fighting techniques, but never had he expected his uncle to pass it on to him.

A small note, scrawled in the bottom of the box gave the only clue as to why.

Kirn

Remember everything I have taught you.

Trust the Force. You will find your destiny.

A rebel hanger was the last place seven year old Kirn had expected to find himself as an adult. Growing up, the Imperial Academy had been the idolized career choice. Kirn and all his friends had spent their days pretending to be storm troopers and tie-fighter pilots. Now, with this gift, Kirn had to rethink everything.

When he was twenty, he left home for Coruscant, against his mother's advice, but he had to know why. Had to know why his uncle had passed his lightsaber to him, had to know why joining the Imperial forces suddenly felt so wrong.

Two years of living on the streets of Coruscant had taught him nothing but how to survive. He learned how to defend himself through practice. It was after one his "training sessions", a "sparing match" between himself and three alien thugs, that a cloaked figure had approached him. The stranger offered food and shelter, which he readily accepted.

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"Come along, young stranger," old cloaked man had said.

Kirn had followed. Whatever doubts he had were outweighed by his hunger and exhaustion. It was a long walk to the small ground level apartment that the man inhabited. Once inside Kirn was shown a cot, and in sheer exhaustion had passed out into a deep sleep.

"Wake up, young one. Warriors do not have the luxury of much sleep."

Kirn rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. "Warriors don't go for two years without sleep. They owe me."

"Hmm," the old man said. "I don't think the enemy would allow you to rest. Besides, two days of sleep is long enough. These days, if you are unconscious to the living world for much longer, you are liable to miss something important. The galaxy is changing with every passing moment."

Kirn reluctantly sat up and looked back at his host. "And so what do we do about it?"

"Simple," the old man said. "We eat."

"What!" his voice low and tired.

"Well we must do first things first. You haven't eaten for a least two days-"

"Four," Kirn corrected quietly.

The old man nodded, "Then you will have to eat twice as much. Come on, come on, you have to regain your strength."

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kirn was amazed by the assortment of foods that had been set before him. Seeing the young man's reaction, the older man had laughed, "Well I did have two days with nothing to do but cook."

"So who are you?" Kirn had asked, between mouthfuls of food.

"My name is Oden Revzen. I was a jedi knight and friend of your uncle."

Kirn had nearly choked on his food. "What? How is that possible?"

Oden shook his head, "You must learn to be honest, Kirn. I can see right through you anyway. You want to know how I survived the temple massacre."

Kirn didn't answer, but Oden didn't leave the silence. "I wasn't on Coruscant when the attack began. I had been abandoned on Mon Calamari. My regiment had assumed I was dead, and they moved on without me. I woke up in a hospital surrounded by alien doctors. They did what they could help me, and when word came of the war against the jedi, they helped me escape into exhile."

Oden rose, "Your uncle spoke of you once. He said that he knew you were destined to be a jedi." With a sigh he continued, "I am no master. Thanks to the war, I was never given that title. I was only a jedi knight, but I will teach you all that I know."

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Kirn stretched, waiting for some sign from the rest of the rebels. He need distraction anything to keep his mind off the past. But the past was a part of who he had become. He had spent nearly three years in Oden's training. He had learned so much, both about the heritage of the jedi and the skills of a knight. In passing, Oden would sometimes give something away, revealing details of what had happened to the great order. These pieces of information were few and far between. It was best that way, for hearing about the destruction of the jedi seemed to only anger Kirn.

When he was only twenty-five years old, he was once again left in the dark. Oden fell ill and eventually passed away. Wandering around the streets of Coruscant yet again, Kirn had struggled against himself more than any of the other inhabitants. Thoughts of anger, injustice and vengeance had built up inside him. Being so close to the force that had killed the jedi and murdered his uncle was nearly suffocating.

He had to do something, he had to put the past in the past. He had to leave Coruscant. He would never be a jedi, but that didn't mean he had to surrender to the life of a loyal Imperial. With nothing left to do, he decided to join the rebellion. He wouldn't fail his uncle. If he couldn't be a jedi, then he'd be a rebel fighter.

"Commander Torek?" The address jolted Kirn from his thoughts. Though it still sounded foreign to him, this was his new name. Commander. The lightsaber had drawn enough attention, that Dodonna was reminded of the jedi of the past age. Needing commanders to lead the "last ditch" phase. He recruited a young Kirn, a jedi-in-training.

"Yes?" Kirn had asked, rising.

"Everyone's gathering in the main assembly room. It's the pre-mission briefing."

"Oh," Kirn said, "Right."

Following the Lieutenant, Kirn came to the large room. Trying his best to hide his look of awe, he was shown his seat, next to his troop, the men he would lead into battle. Their name was Blue Squadron, and they would be the last wave of assault, should the initial attack fail.