I have received two reviews. YAY! Due to a smattering of constructive criticism, I have made the following change:

Yoda is no longer a Yendell. Stupid idea now that I think about it.

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A young boy of about fourteen years of age walked tentatively into the council audience room. He was dressed in a plain padawan's robe (the black robe of the sith had been burnt), and was obviously deliriously happy to back in it.

The entire council followed his progress to the middle of the room. The boy was of slight build, with piercing eyes and an imposing stance. He looked like the sort of person who could lead, and gain respect.

This effect was spoilt slightly by the fact that he had obviously been crying his eyes out only a few minutes before. But despite the red puffiness around his eyes, the child still remembered to bow respectfully to the council masters.

"You have been brought before this council, young padawan, to decide your fate relating to the incident of the sith raid, and your fall, however short, to the dark side of The Force." The boy shuddered as Master Windu spoke, and Yoda could sense most of the Council emitting the faint beginnings of pity.

"Your name, may I ask?" enquired Yoda.

"Jard Dooku, Master." Yoda noticed he had dropped the Darth Oino nonsense. Oino was a pathetic name anyway. Sounded too much like onion.

"Describe, can you Jard, the events of your life these past few months? Take your time."

Complete and utter panic crossed the young boy's features, but it was instantly brought under control.

"As you wish, Master." The boy began his tale, and the council listened carefully…

Jard was sitting in a meditation position in his quarters in the Jedi Temple, wandering the many pathways of the Force. This was his favourite pastime, apart from practising the fencing style of swordsmanship he had learnt in the Library. No one could touch him here, in his own head.

He was trying to uncover memories of his parents. The Jedi Order, officially, strictly forbade this, but every padawan tried it once in a while. No one ever got anywhere, of course. The masters made sure that, when a new force-sensitive arrived, it was made to all but forget its past life. It produced unnecessary attachments.

He scoured his memory, looking for the vaguest thought, the faintest hint…but there was nothing. He gave up and came out of his trance, only to find himself being shaken by a padawan of no more than seven years. It was Forset, a twilek boy.

"Jar! Wake UP! Something bad's happening! We've lost communication with the lower levels and there's just something WRONG! Can't you feel it?"

Jar concentrated. He immediately felt it, a ripple in the very fabric of the Force, as if it was being stretched, even torn.

He was on his feet in an instant, nearly knocking Forset over.

"Stay here." The Twilek started to protest, "I MEAN it!"

"Yes Jard." Said the boy sullenly. But Jard was already gone, sprinting through the corridors of the Academy, towards the lift. He met other padawans on the way, some confused, some angry, some terrified. He ignored them, and kept going. He skidded to a halt at the lift, just as Aiden, another Human padawan, slightly older, did the same.

"Jard! What's going on? Last I heard, we lost contact with the lower levels about ten minutes ago, then I felt the disturbance in the Force!" Aiden was panting, and had his saber at his belt. Jard automatically reached for his lightsaber, just to make sure it was still there. It was, of course. He had only just arrived back from the Dantooine crystal caves, and he wasn't about to misplace his brand new laser sword.

"Something's happening. Something bad. We need to get to the lower levels and find out what's happening!" Jard hit the panel for the lift. All he got was an error message. But the communications panel for the entrance hall flickered into life for a second.

":under attack:help:too many:need masters:" Phut. The panel gave out completely. Jard felt his stomach turn over. The Temple, under attack? Who could be powerful enough (or stupid enough) to storm the Jedi Temple?

His thoughts were interrupted by Aiden's shout.

"The lift's operational again! Come on!" Aiden jumped into the lift, and waited for Jard to join him.

"Calm down Aiden! We have to be careful. We haven't the faintest idea what's waiting down there. Just slow down, alright?" Aiden was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Fine, fine, fine, but can we GO now?"

"Sure." Jard reached for the lift controls, and then stopped. He blinked, and then doubled over as pain, of which he had never felt before, battered at his skull. He groaned and clutched his head, willing the agony to stop, trying to banish it through the Force. Next to him, Aiden was writhing on the floor, not being as adept as Jard at using the Force.

Jard was just about to scream for help when, suddenly, the pain vanished, as rapidly as it had arrived. At the same time, he felt it. Rushing like a tidal wave through the Force, a spasm that, although not hurting him, caused him to sway slightly. There was only one thing that could have been. A death. A death of a Jedi.