Chapter 7

37 years ago…

Sweat poured from Mical's brow. He ineffectually tried to blow and errant blonde curl of hair out of his eyes. A soothing voice rang out.

"Concentrate Mical! If you're ready, I'll attack again." Mical's eyes widened in panic.

"No! Master, no! I can't stop you, I'm too tired to…"

"Nonsense Mical! Your aching muscles have nothing to do with your mind. You can fight me off even in these extreme circumstances!" Mical was standing with two feet on a narrow beam, suspended over a ravine some 60 feet deep. On outstretched arms, Mical carried two thick sacks, each weighing 150 pounds. In this precarious position, Mical was now trying to mentally fight off a psychic attack from Master Cy, who relentlessly battered at his mental defences. Over the last 9 months, Master Cy had been performing similar exercises with all members of the so called "lost Jedi", tailoring each lesson to each pupil. The ragged group of would-be Jedi were amazed to find that the aeons old Master Cy, goat legged though he may be, was not only an accomplished philosopher and scholar, but also a Master of the force and most surprising of all, a formidable warrior. Not one of the Jedi had been able to best him physically, intellectually or mentally.

"Excellent work Mical!" Master Cy shouted from the ridge of the ravine, "we'll make a true Master out of you yet!" Mical merely grunted from the exertion of protecting his mind from the brunt of Master Cy's attack. The worst part was a sick certainty that if the old Master really wanted to, he could tear down Mical's defences in an instant.

"Alright Mical, we're done for the day. Go clean up and I'll make soup for us both" Master Cy said kindly and leapt 20 feet in a single bound. In another bound he was gone. Mical gasped out loud as he carefully made his way back across the beam.

Back in Master Cy's hut, soup was already lain out when a freshly cleaned Mical walked through the door. He gratefully picked up a spoon and wolfed his way through three helpings of the tangy liquid as well as bread while Master Cy gingerly sipped at his bowl. He rarely ate much. After they had finished dinner, Mical cleared away bowls and utensils before sitting in one of the hut's only chairs. Master Cy joined him.

"You have questions?" he asked the young Jedi. Mical nodded.

"How have you got so good at manipulating the force Master?" Master Cy chuckled.

"Well, I've had an awful lot of practice," he said with a grin, "and I have an awful lot of patience. That's all there is to it." Mical shook his head.

"No Master, it's not just time and practice that makes you great. I know because there was a very old Jedi Master at my old enclave called Master Vandar, a Padawan of Peleiaz who you trained. I know he wasn't as old as you but I'm convinced that even the endless passage of time couldn't make him as powerful as you. You wouldn't have died at Visas' master's hand as easily as he did. What makes you different?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I'm a Gendra-kai." Mical frowned.

"What's a Gendra-kai?"

"It is the word, or title which my Master used to describe those touched with the force. Gendra-kai means – "chosen" or perhaps, "marked", since it is not necessarily a good thing." Mical looked surprised.

"Wait a minute… you had a Master?"

"Everyone has a Master at some point in their lives Mical. I'm no exception. He told me that the force can mark very special people for very special purposes. If they follow that purpose, the power they find along the way can be unlimited. I've met only a handful face to face but sensed a great many in all my centuries of meditation."

"Can you give me any examples?" Mical asked desperately. His Master smiled ruefully.

"Of course. Your first Master was a Gendra-kai. Until Malachor V she was simply a good leader but after it she mowed down whole armies on her own. It was the will of the force which guided and emboldened her. Revan was also a Gendra-kai, but he had it from birth. Neither of them have finished yet either." Mical started.

"The Exile is alive?!" Again, Master Cy just smiled.

"I never said that. Will you let me finish?." Mical nodded sullenly, barely able to keep still at the thought of his old Master living still. "Alright then. It's important to remember that Gendra-kai are not restricted to the Jedi. In fact, they're more common among those you call the Sith. In your travels with the exile you met Darth Traya and Darth Sion who were both Gendra-kai." Mical frowned at this.

"Wait, surely Visas' Master was Gendra-kai too? The power he wielded was beyond imagination." Master Cy sadly shook his head.

"The one you speak of was something else altogether. But I will tell no more of him. The Gendra-kai is the chance of greatness which the force gives to so few, but it is a terrible burden - fewer still ever truly utilise the gift."

"Master Cy… am I a Gendra-kai?" Mical asked. Master Cy gave him a piercing stare.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"No Mical, you are not. Perhaps, as a group you and your friends were once when you were part of the "Lost Jedi" but now you are realising your destiny it is gone." Mical slowly hung his head but Master Cy put a hand to the young Jedi's chin and made eye contact.

"You are free to do what you wish Mical, this is a good thing. Don't look so upset. You will be a great Master of the order someday, force destiny be damned." Mical gave a small smile.

"How can you be sure? How do I become a great Jedi Master without being a Gendra-kai?"

"Well for a start you can stop asking so many questions" Master Cy said with a grin. Master and apprentice both burst into laughter.

Vogga the Hut was relaxing in his palace on Nar Shaddaa on a rare occasion when he entertained guests. The evening was already kicking off and people were already milling into the central hall where a party was about to begin. Later tonight, Vogga would meet with his sister Barlo for the first time in 10 years to discuss a truce and call an end to the unprofitable animosity which had existed between the two for all that time. They would talk, relax in each other's company and heal some family wounds. Of course this was nonsense. Vogga loathed his sister and the feeling was mutual, but the wily old Hutt needed more support amongst the Hutts in general and gaining his sisters support (or at least limiting the damage she could do to him) was worth the loss of face in the situation. This hasty party on Barlo's behalf was planned just a day in advance because less than 24 hours ago, Vogga had received a holographic message from his would-be ally Admiral Nova:

"Yes Admiral what is it? I'm trying to sleep." A grouchy Vogga had said when Mossa brought the datapad.

"You treacherous little slug! Damn your eyes!" a furious voice sounded out of the datapad, and Admiral Nova's seething face appeared. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? I was just informed by the admiralty board that a new Grand Admiral won't be chosen until the furore surrounding Senator Bilik's ASSASSINATION has calmed down. His assassination! So you thought you could blindside me with the possibility of a promotion while you destroyed Caston's stability? You're dead worm!" Vogga was aghast.

"You think that was me? I had nothing to do with it whatsoever! I swear I have no idea how the miserable old fool died." Nova was having none of it.

"How could I have even considered working with you? You stab me in the back the moment you see fit to. You will not have Caston I swear it. I don't know what you've got planned but Admiral Nova will not sit on his hands while a scum ridden Hutt tries to impeach upon the Republic's security!" Vogga was now in a temper enough to rival Nova's.

"You will do as I command Nova! You will do everything you agreed to and if you don't, I'll make it clear to the right elements that a Republic Admiral enlisted the help of a Hutt crime lord to remove his superior by assassination just to gain a promotion!" Now Nova snorted with derision.

"Go ahead! Torch my career. See to it that I receive life imprisonment for being a traitor. It'll be the last thing you ever do." Vogga sneered.

"Oh yes? How do you figure that my dear ADMIRAL Nova? Will I choke to death on the grief of not seeing you ever again?" Nova treated Vogga to a slow, dangerous smile.

"No Vogga. I'll simply inform the… what did you call them? Oh yes, the "right elements" that when you signed the treaty of Fondor you bribed the Supreme Chancellor in secret to make you the exclusive diplomatic head of the Hutt's, ensuring that whenever the Republic was involved, you had to be the Hutt who spoke to them. I knew you couldn't stay on top of everyone with guile alone!" Vogga's face paled. He had indeed made sure in the treaty that he would receive preferential treatment from the Republic. If it ever got out that this was where Vogga originally recouped his losses from the Goto debacle, not mention where he became a true power amongst the Hutt's, every crime lord, career criminal and lowlife would be gunning for him.

"How… how did you know that? Where did you find that information?!" Vogga spluttered desperately."

"We all have our sources my dear Vogga," Nova sneered, "So if I go to prison then I can assure you that not long after the rest of the Hutts will hunt you down and cut you into little strips of meat to be thrown to those ghastly Kath hounds of yours. Goodbye Vogga. It's over. If you or the rest of those criminal scum step a toe out of line, I'll blast Nar Shaddaa to dust. Never contact me again." And the communicator had gone completely dead. A day later, Vogga had called a truce with his sister and now the Hutt lords gathered in Vogga's resplendent palace.

As the evening progressed, hundreds of revellers from the criminal classes streamed into the spacious hall, while Vogga, his sister and several others met in a glossy meeting room filled with guards – four for each crimelord as agreed upon. Vogga sat at a circular table with two Trandoshans, a Gran Thug and a Wookiee slave flanking him. Eventually he was joined by Barlo the Hutt and her escort to his left, Membo the Hutt and his guards to his right, Quidliss the Quarren (leader of the Exchange) across from him with a compliment of battle droids and Etta the Toydarian drug runner hovering nervously amongst his guards in the corner of the room. The combined wealth and power of these five shady characters dwarfed any other criminal element in the galaxy and even challenged the Republic itself. Vogga cleared his flabby throat.

"Etta? Would you kindly be seated?" The Toydarian started at being addressed by name and hovered over to the round table. As a rule the old drug runner was constantly on edge and he actually winced when his wings stopped beating and he slumped into his chair. The polar opposite of Etta was Membo who looked like he would fall asleep within moments if the meeting didn't get underway. Barlo seethed with barely supressed hatred for her brother and Quidliss was completely neutral as he surveyed the other members of the group.

"Thank you Etta," Vogga said politely and cleared his throat again, "I've brought you here to discuss a situation which has arisen on Caston," he began. Membo interrupted.

"You brought us all the way up here from Nal Hutta to tell us you've stirred up the hornets' nest with that little assassination of yours Vogga?" the colossal slug asked dryly.

"On the contrary Membo – I was about to accuse you of stirring that particular nest. Was it your assassin?" Membo groaned and gestured one of his guards to start fanning him – talking is such an effort.

"No dear Vogga, it wasn't my order at all. Barlo? Quidliss? Did either of you order that ridiculous Twilek's death on Caston?" In turn both crime lords shook their heads.

"It wasn't anything to do with me. Or anyone beneath me" Barlo snarled.

"Likewise I assure you," Quidliss the Quarren said calmly, "perhaps Etta felt that Senator Bilik's death would increase his own business?" The Toydarian looked panic stricken, as ever.

"It wasn't m-m-me either. I've had nothing to do with C-C-Caston since you signed that d-d-damn Fondorian treaty Vogga!" Vogga took a moment to sneer at Etta's stutter before continuing on.

"Well, whoever it was, an awful lot of hostility will now be directed firmly at us – we are clearly the main suspects."

"Tosh Vogga," Membo said, "perhaps it was just an act of passion. A spurned lover perhaps, goodness knows what these people get so excited about." Vogga solemnly shook his fat head.

"I'm afraid not – it was a professional hit. There's a rumour going round that Jedi investigators have already arrested a professional bounty hunter."

"Well damn them all. Why should we care what they think or suppose? It has no bearing on us. I don't care if they hate me, so long as they obey me. I highly doubt the Republic will attack us or start a war over one minor assassination." Vogga sighed at Membo's outburst.

"Unfortunately for all of us, within the Republic Navy there is an… unstable element. An Admiral by the name of Nova will cause severe problems for us. My Intel tells me that he will be actively searching for a reason to go to war – he may even make one up for all we know." Barlo the Hutt was immediately suspicious.

"Why would he have it in for us? Is it something you did Vogga? Have you got us into a full blown war now?" Vogga put up two placating hands.

"I believe that Nova was infuriated by the assassination of Grand Admiral Quasar," Vogga skilfully lied, "another murder which I had no part in. Obviously he is now on the offensive and for all our sakes I ask each of you to relax operations for the time being. No high profile hits, no big pay-offs or scores. Can I expect you all to do that?" Barlo the Hutt shifted on her lounger.

"I'm loathe to put aside hard credits simply at your say so Vogga" the Hutt said with a snarl, "and let's not forget this ridiculous bounty on Jedi you've posted." Vogga was equally vicious with his retort.

"And perhaps I'm loathe to give you access to my freighters until you get in line!" he barked. This was where Vogga always showed his hand. Each of the five crime lords had a speciality which they focused on, an unspoken agreement formed from each simply playing to their strengths. Barlo the Hutt was nicknamed "Queen of the Slaves" due to her near galactic wide monopoly on the slave trade. Etta the Toydarian owned virtually every gram of illegal spice in Republic space. Quidliss of the Exchange had mastered the weapons development and droid manufacturing markets throughout countless star systems. And Membo the Hutt was the biggest mercenary employer in Republic history. If he wanted he could field a vast and terrible army of mercenaries that put all other criminal gangs to shame. But the reason Vogga had always been and still was the unofficial leader of the Hutt's was his ships. Vogga commanded shipping throughout most of expanded Hutt space. At his say so, half the freighters and shuttles in the galaxy would grind to a stop and the money would stop coming in. If that ever happened, every person around the table would be in mortal danger from disgruntled employees, irate dealers with nowhere for their merchandise to go and almost every other criminal who fancied a cut of the pie before it collapsed. Trade was everything and Vogga controlled all of it.

"The Jedi bounty is unconnected to this. It's a personal matter you need not concern yourselves with. So, are we clear?" Vogga asked the stone-faced gathering of criminals. There was a silent nod of agreement around the room – most had been too infuriated to speak by Vogga's threat. As soon as Vogga nodded in turn the furious crime lords left the meeting room one by one. Vogga was unlikely to see them again very soon. The great Hutt slouched back on his dais, relief evident on his face. The task was done. For the moment, the Hutt's would do nothing to antagonise the Republic, especially Nova, giving him time to get rid of the rogue Admiral before he started a war. But perhaps just as important, Vogga also knew that he should find out who really did order the hit on Bilik, and when he did he'd… do what the Hutt's do best.

Once again, Veshnar and Vima sat on the bridge of the Scarlet Shyrak but the awkward silence of before was gone, replaced with Vima's excited chatter as he pawed at the ships computer.

"Master, there's a lot of information about the Cosmos Splinter in the archives here. I can even access blue prints from its construction!"

"I take it that it's a criminal space station?" Veshnar said. Vima nodded.

"Oh yes. Construction was paid for by the Hutts, they wanted a place to do business deals away from the prying eyes of other Hutt's – that's the benefit of a station rather than a colony. The homicide rate is through the roof so you should really think of it as a brand new Nar Shaddaa in space. Population 100,000."

"What can you tell me about Rook?" the blue Chiss asked. Vima frowned.

"Not an awful lot. He's some sort of money lender I believe and by Hutt space standards he's not particularly dangerous. I've got a few reports of assaults by men under his employ for non-payment of debts but that's small fry compared with most criminals. He keeps himself to himself and has done steady business since he arrived on the Splinter ten years ago. Before that I can't find any trace of him."

"He's still a career criminal my young Padawan. Still, if he's not typically a heavy hitter than we can assume he got his orders from someone higher up the chain. It must have been a Hutt. Look to who benefits from a murder and you will find the culprit." Aron Vima frowned at this.

"But how do the Hutt's benefit exactly? I understand that Caston represents the control the Republic still wields over the Hutts after the treaty of Fondor and all that but civil unrest in Caston won't make it a part of the Hutt's empire. Would they do it out of pure hatred for the Republic? I know the Hutt's are wicked but they never make a decision that's bad for business. Something doesn't feel right about any of this."

"You may be right Padawan," Veshnar said sagely, "It doesn't sound like the Hutt's to hire such an unlikely hit man either. And for that matter, if unrest on Caston was the overall goal, why go to such trouble to conceal it with a hit man who specialises in "accidental" deaths?" Both Jedi paused and thought. Veshnar eventually sat up.

"Padawan, let's look at it this way: what has Bilik's assassination accomplished?" Vima thought about this.

"Well, I've had a look at current Caston events and apparently there has been some rioting in inner city areas. But the whole planet is covered in Republic soldiers, the government can't topple with such a strong military presence. As far as I can tell it hasn't achieved anything beyond minor civil unrest."

"And yet for this seemingly arbitrary objective, this Rook fellow paid an assassin 40,000 credits to do the job. Why? The force has been telling us this case is more complicated than a vengeful Hutt out for revenge all along. Anyway, I'm going to report to the council before we reach the cosmos splinter." Veshnar pressed several buttons on the bridge controls and was quickly linked into the Council network. Almost immediately, Master Atton Rand's face appeared. He did not look happy.

"Where the hell have you two been?!" the hologram of the Jedi Master shouted at them furiously, "you're in grave danger! The Hutt's have put a hit out on the Jedi who took down the Red Moon slaving operation which includes you two! Return to Pikar immediately." Master and apprentice stared at one another incredulously.

"But, we were with Master Ordo just a few hours ago, she didn't mention anything about a bounty!" Veshnar said. Atton rolled his eyes.

" That's because she, like you, neglects her communicator constantly, and I'm still not in contact with her. Did you meet her on Caston? And what about your investigation?" Aron spoke up.

"We've all but cracked the case Master Rand!" he said with typical eagerness. "We found the hit man who did the assassination in the sewers of Caston and Master Ordo has him in custody now. He claims he was hired by a man named Rook who works out of the space station known as the Cosmos Splinter, so we're on our way now to…"

"That's in Hutt space!" Atton spat furiously, "You can't go there, that's ground zero for bounty hunters out for blood. Vima, I expected this brashness from you but… oh what am I saying. Would you listen to me? I sound like Mical!" Aron and Veshnar shared a look.

"Master Rand" Veshnar began, "we have a concrete lead to this Rook character and the council and yourself did say you wanted this solved as soon as possible to quell unrest on Caston. If you would permit us to make a quick trip to the Cosmos Splinter, incognito might I add, then we can bring back hard evidence about this Rook gentlemen and whoever he answers to." Atton still wasn't convinced.

"He's probably aware that you're after him by now. He'll be a thousand light years away by the time you reach the station." Aron couldn't contain his excitement and jumped in here.

"But that's the beauty of it!" he barked with glee, "even if Rook is gone and has erased every file he ever used, the whole station will still know things about him – where he might be going, his business on the Splinter, who worked for him and most importantly, who he might answer to. If we start asking around we'll soon have all the information we need – there's always somebody willing to make some easy creds or a terminal to hack which can help us, especially on a crime ridden dump like the Splinter. It is, after all, like Nar Shaddaa adrift in space." Atton leant back from the hologram, clearly impressed and Veshnar smiled proudly at his young charge. Atton put a hand on his chin and thought long and hard. He was sure that any other member of the council would have sent these two straight home, regardless of the strength of their investigation but Atton was pleased with the two detective Jedi. Especially Mordred Veshnar, a Chiss whom Atton had always thought of as a by-the-book stooge until now. He let out a slow breath.

"Alright. Alright. You've got twenty four hours to dig up something juicy and reliable on this Rook guy, and you have to do it quietly. After that, I'm coming to escort you back to the temple personally."

"Thank you Master!" Aron gushed dramatically. Veshnar merely diplomatically lowered his head in thanks to the hologram. Atton waved a hand.

"Good luck you two. Don't forget – twenty four hours. May the force be with you."

"And also with you Master" the two Jedi said in unison and the hologram of Master Rand switched off. Master and apprentice spent an hour discussing who they would interrogate or bribe first and the time passed well until sure enough, the Cosmos Splinter came into view, a hideous grey barb of a space station, covered with aerials, dropships, fuel lines and nowhere near enough windows. It hung in space uneasily, a fat cockroach slowly turning in its own filthy smog, covered in ticks and decay, its flesh alive with the stench of desperate living. It could indeed be described as a splinter – but only if said splinter had been buried in somebody's skin for so long flesh and barb alike had begun to rot. The Scarlet Shyrak, pathetically small in the face of such a monstrosity, edged toward a docking port whilst on board, Aron and Mordred prepared robes to cover themselves and hide their identity. Aron quickly recalibrated the Scarlet Shyraks ship ID and smiled at the thought of finally finding out who was behind the assassination of Senator Bilik. He hadn't felt so optimistic in a long time.

Which was a shame because at that very moment the Cosmos Splinter exploded.