Star Trek: The Mirror Gamer

Episode 7: Hyperspace

This Episode takes place directly after the events of the previous Interlude and begins 3 days before Episode 2 in the main story - Star Trek: The Next Gamer.

~~Star Trek: TMG~~

Stardate: 41201.5
SW Date: 3956 BBY
Earth Standard Date: March 14, 2364
Location: Ebon Hawk, Hyperspace

The hum of the Ebon Hawk's engines echoed throughout the cockpit as it cruised through the swirling lights of hyperspace. Tyson sat at the helm, peering into the galaxy map displayed on the console. His companions, Bastila Shan and Mission Vao, sat by his side.

"Bandomeer. Never thought I'd be heading in that direction," said Mission, her blue lekku twitching slightly as she leaned over Tyson's shoulder to get a better look at the galaxy map. "It's not exactly a hot spot. More like a hub for farmers and, you know, people who like dirt."

Bastila turned her gaze from the star-streaked viewport to the map. "Sometimes, Mission, it is the quiet places that hold the greatest significance," she said, her voice a measured mix of command and understanding. "Bandomeer's location on two major hyperspace lanes could make it a strategic point of interest."

Mission shrugged, her young face scrunching in dubious amusement. "If you say so, Bastila. Just don't expect me to pick up a hoe and start farming."

Tyson chuckled at Mission's joke and moved his hand to zoom into the map. His eyes danced over star systems, planets, and trade routes, searching for places that stirred familiarity in his mind.

"Dathomir. Mandalore. Yavin," Tyson read out the names of the nearby systems, his fingers tracing the pulsing lines of the hyperspace lanes connecting them. "And Dantooine." His gaze lingered on Dantooine, Bastila's earlier suggestion echoing in his mind.

The young Jedi looked at Tyson, her hands clasped in front of her in a formal yet approachable manner. "Tyson, I must again suggest we set course for Dantooine. The Jedi Council resides there. They could provide us with much-needed guidance."

Mission, ever the rogue, rolled her eyes at Bastila's solemn tone. "Leave it to a Jedi to think a bunch of old monks are gonna solve all our problems," she scoffed.

Ignoring Mission's scoff, Tyson focused on Bastila's suggestion. "Dantooine," he mused, looking at the coordinates. "But what about Mandalore? What's the situation there?"

Bastila considered Tyson's question, "Mandalore isn't what it once was," she said finally. "The proud warrior culture of the Mandalorians has been scattered and disorganized since the end of the Mandalorian Wars. Their clans are divided, their strength diminished." She paused, her eyes meeting Tyson's. "Moreover, their past actions have left them with few allies. It's a volatile region, to say the least."

Mission glanced at the galaxy map, her attention momentarily pulled away from the endless starfield beyond the viewport. "In other words, we'd be jumping from the frying pan into the fire," she concluded.

"Dathomir," Tyson spoke the name with an inquisitive tone, turning his attention to the planet on the map.

"Oh, Dathomir," Mission's voice dropped to a hushed whisper, her face alight with a mischievous grin. "Now there's a place that would send chills down your spine. Heard some stories about that place, I have." Mission settled herself on one of the cockpit's chairs, her blue lekku twitching in excitement. "They say that the nights on Dathomir are haunted by the Night Witches. Witches who can control minds and move mountains. Witches who could stop your heart with just a look," she said, her eyes wide with the thrill of her own tale.

Bastila chuckled at Mission's dramatics, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Mission, your flair for theatrics is unparalleled," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Although," she added, her tone shifting to something more serious, "there is some truth to your tale."

Mission looked momentarily taken aback, while Tyson turned his gaze to Bastila, his interest piqued. "Do tell, Bastila," he encouraged.

Bastila looked at Tyson and nodded. "The so-called Night Witches, or Nightsisters as they are more commonly known, are indeed real. They are a group of Force-sensitive women living in isolation on Dathomir. However, their abilities are not as exaggerated as Mission's story might suggest." She looked at the planet on the map, her brow furrowing slightly. "They largely keep to themselves and, due to Dathomir's remote location and lack of significant resources, the rest of the galaxy does the same. It's a harsh world, not easily tamed."

Mission's eyes were wide with surprise at Bastila's admission. "So, my ghost story was actually true? Huh, didn't see that coming."

A wide grin spread across Mission's face, her lekku twitching with mirth as she caught on to an amusing idea. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked from Bastila to Tyson. "A whole planet of Force-sensitive women? We'd totally fit in! Plus, we've got Tyson here, he can be our king!" Mission laughed at her own joke, her youthful mirth reverberating around the cockpit.

Bastila couldn't help but scoff at the notion, shaking her head in amused disbelief at Mission's audacity. "Oh, Mission," she began, her voice containing a hint of mirth despite her disapproval, "your imagination is... colourful, to say the least. But it doesn't work that way."

The Jedi leaned back in her chair, her gaze shifting to Tyson. "Firstly, the Nightsisters are a secretive and insular society. They do not take kindly to outsiders, let alone a male seeking to be their 'king'," she said, her tone laced with wry humor at the absurdity of the suggestion.

"Furthermore," she continued, her eyes moving back to Mission, "Force-sensitivity isn't a ticket to universal acceptance. It is a power, a responsibility, and it comes with challenges. The Nightsisters have carved out their own path in the Force, separate from both Jedi and Sith. They likely wouldn't take kindly to interlopers."

Mission rolled her eyes but giggled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Alright, alright, no king Tyson of Dathomir. Got it. Still, would've been fun."

Tyson, caught between the playful barbs of his companions, just chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair with his gaze steady on the galaxy map. "Alright, so we're ruling out Mandalore and Dathomir," he announced, looking at his two companions. "Mission, do you have any objections to Dantooine?"

Mission scrunched her face, clearly weighing the options in her mind. "Well, Dantooine doesn't sound nearly as exciting as a planet full of force witches," she joked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. However, her humor quickly faded into a thoughtful look. "But... I guess I don't really have any objections. It's not like I have a better idea anyway. Plus, I suppose if Bastila thinks it's a good idea... I'm in."

Her agreement came somewhat reluctantly, but it was clear she trusted Bastila's judgment. She may have had a rebellious streak, but she knew when to follow a lead. Bastila shot a quick, smug look at Tyson before turning back to Mission, her lips curled into a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mission. I appreciate your faith in my judgment," she said, her voice laced with a hint of triumph. "While Dantooine may not have Force witches, it has much to offer."

Mission rolled her eyes at Bastila's response but didn't argue further, leaning back in her chair with a resigned sigh. Bastila's grin widened just slightly, her eyes meeting Tyson's with a look that clearly said 'I told you so.' The course was set. Dantooine it was.
With their decision made, Tyson input the coordinates for Dantooine into the Ebon Hawk's navigation computer. The ship's trajectory was set to follow the Hydian Way, one of the galaxy's major hyperspace routes, until they reached the Botajef system, the major system beyond Bandomeer.

From there, the ship would veer off onto the Vergai Trade Route, a winding path that skirted along the Outer Rim territories, taking them to their chosen destination.

Once the course was locked in, Tyson leaned back in his chair, relief evident in his posture. "Well, that's done. With the ship on auto-pilot, we should have plenty of time to explore the Ebon Hawk," he said, glancing at Bastila and Mission.

Mission bounced up from her chair at the prospect. "Sweet! I've been dying to explore this ship. I bet there are all sorts of secret compartments and hidden loot around," she exclaimed.

Bastila gave a half-smile, shaking her head at Mission's exuberance. "Exploring the ship would indeed be beneficial. Familiarizing ourselves with our surroundings will only aid us," she conceded, even if her motives were less about hunting for hidden loot and more about practicality.

With a parting glance at the galaxy map, Tyson rose from his seat. Leaving the cockpit, Tyson stepped into the main hold. The main hold was filled with a myriad of instruments and terminals, all whirring with activity. The center of the room was occupied by a holotable, its surface flickering with a muted glow, projections of star maps and ship schematics gliding across it. Around the holotable were chairs and a common area for the crew to gather.

Tyson then moved towards the engine room. A low thrum resonated through the floor as he neared it, the ship's engine humming with energy. The room was filled with an array of complex machinery, panels of buttons and switches, and blinking lights that painted a mesmerizing pattern on the walls. In one corner, he could see a rack of tools, their chrome surfaces gleaming in the dim light.

From there, Tyson ventured into the cargo hold. The room was filled with crates and boxes of varying sizes. Despite the utilitarian purpose of the room, it had a certain orderliness to it, each crate meticulously placed, and the room surprisingly clean. A narrow passageway led him from the cargo hold to the crew quarters. The quarters were Spartan but comfortable, each bunk neatly made and equipped with personal lockers. Lastly, Tyson found himself in the medical bay. Brightly lit and well-equipped, it boasted a kolto tank in the center and several medical droids quietly awaiting use.

Tyson made his way back to the main hold, where Mission had staked her claim near the holotable. The young Twi'lek was engrossed in the ship's datapad, her lekku twitching occasionally in thought. At the sound of Tyson's approach, she looked up, grinning.

"I've decided to stay right here," she announced, gesturing at the comfortable chair she had appropriated. "Lots of room, plenty of data to go through, and a perfect view of everyone coming and going. But don't worry about me, Tyson. I can take care of myself."

Tyson nodded. "Good. I'm glad you've found a spot you like, Mission."

The Twi'lek's grin widened, and she leaned back in her chair, her gaze shifting meaningfully towards the direction of the crew quarters. "Why don't you go find Bastila? She could probably use some company."

Tyson raised an eyebrow at the insinuation in Mission's voice, but she merely shrugged, feigning innocence. "What? I'm just saying, she's all alone over there. And you two, you know... get along pretty well."

"Is that so?" Tyson smirked, playing along.

"Yeah," she insisted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Who knows? Maybe you could even become... 'intimate' with the mighty Jedi."

Tyson couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll take that under advisement, Mission."

With a playful salute, he left Mission and headed towards the crew quarters. The young Twi'lek's meddling was endearing in its own way, and her words had brought a soft warmth to his cheeks. Tyson went in search of Bastila. He found her where Mission had suggested, in the crew quarters. She was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed in a deep meditative state. A warm light bathed her figure, highlighting the subtle movements of her breathing. He paused for a moment, observing the peace that radiated from her.

Stepping lightly to avoid disturbing her, Tyson made his way over. "Bastila," he called softly. Her eyelids fluttered open, surprise momentarily crossing her face before she smoothed her expression into a more controlled one.

"Tyson," she responded, her voice steady but warm. "Is there something you need?"

He sat down across from her, mirroring her pose. "I thought I might join you," he offered. "In meditation, I mean. Though my method is a bit... different."

This piqued Bastila's interest, her eyebrows raising slightly. "Oh? I wasn't aware you practiced meditation."

He nodded, "I do, though it's not the Jedi style of meditation. It's a technique taught to me by a Vulcan. It's designed to suppress urges and emotions,and bring tranquility and clarity to the mind."

Bastila's eyes widened slightly. "Vulcan meditation? I can't say I've heard of it. But I would be interested in learning about it, if you're willing to share."

He felt a surge of warmth at her open interest. "Of course, Bastila. It would be my pleasure to teach you."

"Let's begin," Tyson suggested, meeting Bastila's gaze. Just as Selar did for him back on the Stargazer, he would instruct her. Bastila nodded, a soft look of curiosity in her eyes. Tyson took a deep breath, and began to guide Bastila through the steps of Vulcan-style meditation. "Close your eyes," he started, his voice calm and steady. "Breathe in deeply through your nose... and out through your mouth. Let your mind clear, pushing all your thoughts and emotions to the background."

As he spoke, he watched Bastila. She followed his instructions carefully, her face showing the concentration she was putting into it. He continued guiding her, their surroundings fading into the background as they focused on their breathing and the quietness within themselves. Once he felt they had reached the appropriate state of meditation, he fell silent. They stayed in this state for what felt like an eternity, lost in the tranquility and stillness of their minds.

Finally, Tyson opened his eyes. Bastila was already watching him, her eyes holding a new light. There was a look of gratitude, but also something else… But just as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by her usual composed demeanor. "Thank you, Tyson," she said, her voice smooth and controlled. "I... I need some time alone to meditate on my experiences on Taris."

Tyson nodded, understanding her need for solitude. "Of course, Bastila. Take all the time you need."

Meditation Skill Increased! (4)

He made his way out of the crew quarters, leaving Bastila alone with her thoughts. A hopeful smile crept onto his face as he reflected on their shared moment. Walking through the lower level of the Ebon Hawk, Tyson stumbled upon a pile of dismantled droid parts. He crouched down, a look of interest crossing his face. It was a complex mess, but to Tyson, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved. Seeing that he didn't have anything pressing to do, Tyson decided to set to work. He picked up a tool from the nearby kit and began to assemble the pieces. His hands moved with practiced ease, the confidence of a seasoned engineer.

While he was deep in his work, Mission wandered by. She paused when she saw Tyson, watching him from the doorway with a curious tilt of her head. Tyson noticed her and waved her over with a smile, "Hey, Mission. Care to give me a hand?"

She took a step forward, leaning against the doorframe, her gaze fixed on the parts and Tyson's methodical movements. "I can give it a shot," she said, sounding unsure. "But you look like you've got it handled."

Tyson chuckled, his attention still focused on his work. "There's always more to learn, Mission."

Mission had decent engineering skills, but watching Tyson, she quickly realized that he was on another level. The way he handled the tools, and the ease with which he identified and connected the different components, it was clear that he had extensive experience. She stayed there for a while, watching Tyson work.

Eventually, Tyson finished. With a satisfied smile, he sat back to admire his handiwork. A nearly complete droid stood before them. A hint of intrigue and excitement sparked in Mission's eyes as she asked, "So, what's next?"

"I guess we turn it on," Tyson mused, meeting Mission's gaze with a small smile. He reached for the activation switch and flicked it on.

The droid's eyes lit up instantly, casting an eerie red glow in the dim light of the cargo hold. It stood still for a moment, then began to move, testing out its newly reconnected limbs. After a few seconds, it turned to Tyson, its metallic voice echoing throughout the room.

"Statement: Activation successful. Greetings, Master. I am HK-47, a protocol droid at your service."

Tyson's eyes widened in surprise, a grin forming on his face. Now that he'd put together the droid, he remembered it from his previous life. "HK-47, huh? It's good to have you active again."

The droid's head tilted slightly, an approximation of a nod. "Acknowledgement: Thank you, Master, for repairing me. You are proficient in your skills." Before Tyson could reply, HK-47 continued. "Query: Master, is there anyone you wish to be... terminated?"

Laughing, Tyson shook his head at the droid. "Terminated? HK, are you sure you're a protocol droid and not an assassin droid?"

"Clarification: My primary function is to facilitate communication and ensure the comfort of my master. However," the droid paused for a moment, the red lights of its eyes flickering slightly, "I am also programmed with extensive combat and assassination protocols. These secondary functions allow me to protect my master, and if needed, remove any threats to their well-being. This does not override my primary function as a protocol droid, master."

There was silence for a moment as Tyson processed this. Then, he let out another chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, that's reassuring. Glad to know we're covered on all fronts."

Mission, who had been listening, snickered. "Talk about multi-tasking. Just remind me never to get on your bad side, Tyson."

Tyson flashed her a grin. "Noted, Mission. Noted."

As Tyson continued his exploration of the Ebon Hawk, he discovered a door at the back of the ship. The archway was strikingly familiar. It looked exactly like the entrance to a holodeck. His brow furrowed in curiosity, he approached it, his hand reaching out tentatively. He was certain this door hadn't been there on his first exploration of the ship. As soon as his fingers grazed the cool metal surface, a System Message flashed before his eyes:

[Instant Dungeon: Ebon Hawk KOTOR. - Scenario: Escape Taris Complete! You are now able to leave and return to the Enterprise.]

The Enterprise. The very thought brought back a rush of memories... and the longing to see familiar faces. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled his hand away. The Ebon Hawk and its inhabitants had become a part of his life now. He had a mission here, and people who depended on him. He wouldn't abandon them. But perhaps he could bring them with him.

With a sigh, he turned away from the holodeck door. But the knowledge of the Enterprise being just a door away was comforting.

~~Star Trek: TMG~~

The group reconvened in the Ebon Hawk's common area, a small space that doubled as the ship's mess. With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, Tyson opened his Inventory. His fingers danced over the glowing interface, pulling forth a variety of foods he'd stockpiled during their time on Taris. Piping hot breads, cheeses of varying texture and color, succulent fruits, and a thermos of steaming stew materialized onto the table.

Mission tilted her head, her azure eyes bright with curiosity. "Hey Tyson," she began, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. "Why'd you hoard all this stuff? Not that I'm complaining, but I've never seen you do this before."

Tyson chuckled, spreading some cheese on a piece of bread. "Well, remember when we were in the Undercity?" he asked, pausing for a bite. "We were there for most of a day and I didn't eat. It made me realize that we should stock up on extra supplies. So, every time we ordered food, I stored extra."

Bastila, who had been quietly observing the exchange, turned her gaze towards Tyson, her interest piqued. "Your abilities, Tyson," she began, her voice brimming with curiosity. "They're unlike anything I've ever seen before. Could you tell me more about them?"

Tyson blinked. "Well, uh," he began, a shy grin playing on his lips. "Where should I start?"
As Tyson began to explain his Gamer abilities, Bastila's hazel eyes were riveted to his. Her full attention was on him as she listened intently to every word he said, trying to make sense of this entirely new concept.

"Well, I call it 'the Gamer'," Tyson began, a sheepish grin on his face. "It's like a game interface. I can level up, increase my skills, see my stats, and use an inventory system. It even helps me learn things faster."

Bastila absorbed this information, her brow slightly furrowed in thought. "Fascinating," she murmured. "And what of the purple glow I've seen enveloping you?" she asked, her gaze steady on him. "What does that represent?"

Tyson froze at her question, his mind racing. When had she seen his Corruption? She hadn't been around during his duels or the fight with the Sith Governor. His gaze darted towards Mission. She wore a sly grin, her lekku twitching in a clear sign of Twi'lek amusement. It was as if she held a secret, one that Tyson had just become privy to. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning… She must have noticed the purple aura when they had sex.

"Well, that," Tyson began, a flush creeping up his neck. "That's a little more complex. It's called Corruption. It, uh, it appears when... well, you know what, it's a bit difficult to explain." His assurance was somewhat undermined by the awkward laugh that escaped him, but he hoped Bastila would let the subject drop.

Bastila tilted her head slightly, her gaze thoughtful, "Is Corruption responsible for your connection to the Force? When we first met, you didn't have a Force presence, but I was there the moment both of your connections manifested."

Tyson found himself momentarily at a loss for words, his eyes darting between Bastila's searching gaze and Mission's irrepressible grin. Bastila had an elegant eyebrow arched, her curiosity as potent as the tea that wafted between them. Mission simply snickered, her eyes sparkling with mischief, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"Bastila...when Mission and I..." Tyson stammered, feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat, steeling himself. "Well, the... event you're referring to... it was when I was transferring some of my Corruption to Mission, yes. It was at that moment that she became Force Sensitive."

The words hung in the air, the implications quite clear. Tyson tried not to wince at the silence that ensued. Bastila, however, didn't seem taken aback. She simply blinked, a thoughtful expression on her face as she took in the revelation.

"Interesting," she murmured, her gaze penetrating. "Corruption as a source of power... intriguing. But the Force is not to be taken lightly, Tyson." Her voice was serious, but not accusing. "Using it requires responsibility and understanding."

Tyson nodded, knowing she spoke the truth. "I understand, Bastila," he replied earnestly.

Bastila's words hung in the air, and a pinkish hue crept up her neck. She realized she'd inadvertently admitted to sensing Tyson and Mission's intimate encounter. Her cheeks colored as the implication registered, but she quickly composed herself, gathering her thoughts.

"I... I sensed a significant shift in the Force, that's what drew my attention," she hastened to explain, looking anywhere but at Tyson. She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but it was clear the situation had flustered her. "Anyway, as I was saying, it's part of my duty as a Jedi to assess your newfound Force sensitivity and bring it to the council's attention."

Her gaze shifted back to Tyson, her expression serious. "After dinner, if you don't mind, I'd like to explore this connection further. It's important to understand these things."

Mission, who had been quietly observing the exchange, quickly saw an opportunity. Suppressing a grin, she chimed in, "Sounds good to me. You guys do your Jedi thing. I've got...uh... some stuff to do after dinner. Yeah, important stuff. You guys won't even miss me!"

She quickly rose from her seat, leaving Tyson and Bastila alone. Mission's parting smirk left no doubt that she was enjoying every bit of their discomfort.

Once they finished dinner, Bastila guided Tyson to the secluded crew quarters. It was a simpler space compared to the rest of the ship, with a few cushions scattered on the ground and a low table at the center. The lights were dim, creating a serene atmosphere, perfect for deep conversation or introspection.

Bastila settled herself on a cushion, her posture straight and poised. She gestured for Tyson to join her, and once he had, she began speaking. Her voice was steady and her gaze thoughtful as she began to explain one of the most profound aspects of her life.

"The Force," she began, "is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. It's like a current that flows through everything. Some individuals, like us, are more attuned to this energy and are capable of sensing and manipulating it, though the manner in which this is done can differ significantly." Bastila looked at Tyson with an earnest gaze. "A Jedi's connection to the Force is like a deep bond, as integral to our being as our very heartbeat. It's both a gift and a responsibility. Through the Force, we can perform great feats and achieve incredible understanding. However, it's also a path that requires discipline and balance to walk without falling to the dark side."

She paused for a moment, her gaze assessing Tyson, "You are unique, Tyson. Your connection to the Force isn't like anything I've seen before. It's raw, untamed." Bastila continued, her gaze fixated on Tyson, yet her voice calm and tranquil. "Now, let's begin with a simple exercise. It's a classic Jedi training technique designed to help you focus your connection to the Force."

She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on a small data pad resting on the low table. "See that data pad?" she asked, pointing to it with a slender finger. Tyson nodded, his gaze following her gesture.

Bastila leaned forward, her voice lowering as if she was sharing a secret. "I want you to reach out with your senses, Tyson. Don't think about the physical distance between you and the object. Instead, feel the energy that connects you to it. The Force isn't just about moving things with your mind, it's about understanding the intimate connection we share with all life."

Tyson nodded, his brow creased in concentration. He looked at the data pad, then closed his eyes, his body still. The room was silent save for the quiet hum of the ship's systems.

After a moment, Tyson reached out his hand, his palm open towards the data pad. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the data pad began to tremble. It jittered on the table before lifting slightly, hovering a few inches above the surface.

Bastila watched, her eyes shining with a mix of fascination and anticipation. "Good, Tyson. Very good. You're more natural at this than most."

Tyson opened his eyes and grinned at Bastila, his confidence radiating. The data pad dropped back onto the table, but it was clear that this first exercise was a success. Bastila couldn't help but return his smile. "Very well done, Tyson. This is just the beginning. The Force is a part of you, as much as it is a part of me. And together, we have much to explore."

Tyson looked at Bastila, her intense focus apparent in the glow of her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably before voicing a question that had been niggling at his mind. "Bastila," he began, "these stories about Jedi... is it true? Can you really read minds and manipulate others with the Force?"

Bastila's gaze didn't waver, her features remaining composed, despite the seriousness of Tyson's question. "It's not as simple as that," she responded, her voice steady and calm. "The Force allows us to perceive feelings, thoughts... the very essence of life. But it's not about control, Tyson, it's about understanding, connection."

She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to sink in, her gaze softening somewhat. "As for manipulation," she continued, "certain Jedi abilities could be perceived that way. But it's a matter of intent. Jedi are trained to use the Force responsibly, to preserve life, to seek peace and knowledge." She hesitated before adding, "It's a sacred trust, Tyson. One we do not take lightly. It is our duty, our calling, to use these abilities for the benefit of others, not to exploit them for personal gain or to inflict harm." Her voice was solemn now, her conviction clear in every word she spoke.

Tyson nodded, his eyes reflecting a myriad of thoughts. "So, is the difference between Jedi and Sith just... restraint?" he asked, his voice hesitant but tinged with a spark of curiosity.

Bastila's features tightened, and a moment of silence filled the room. "It is a part of it, yes," she finally responded. "But it's not just about restraint, Tyson. It's about the intention and the balance."

She leaned back, "Jedi serve the Force, we use our abilities to uphold peace, justice, and to defend those who cannot defend themselves. We walk a path of compassion, understanding, and selflessness." Bastila looked intently at Tyson, her tone growing stern. "The Sith, on the other hand, seek to exploit the Force for their own personal gain. They crave power, domination, and control. They are driven by anger, hatred, and fear. Their path is one of self-destruction and turmoil."

"Being a Jedi, Tyson," she added, her voice softening, "is more than just being able to do things others cannot. It's about choosing to do what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about serving something greater than oneself."

As Tyson listened to Bastila's impassioned explanation, he felt a strong desire to understand her better. With a deep breath, he reached out with the Force, gently nudging at the edges of her consciousness, trying to sense her emotions, her feelings, in the same way he had done before with his Telepathy.

In that moment, he could sense a surge of surprise in Bastila, followed by a momentary flicker of anxiety. The Jedi quickly regained her composure, though, and looked at Tyson with a raised eyebrow. "Tyson," she began, her voice calm but firm. "What you're doing... reaching out like that, it's a Jedi technique known as Force Empathy. It allows one to sense the emotions of others."

Rather than intruding into Bastila's feelings, Tyson decided to project his own. Taking a deep breath, he focused on his own emotions: his deep affection for Mission, his growing curiosity about Bastila, and his gratitude for their companionship. As he extended his feelings out towards Bastila, he felt a faint bond, a gentle pull between them, amplified by his telepathic abilities.

Bastila's eyebrows lifted in surprise as she suddenly became aware of the intensity of Tyson's emotions. There was a moment of stunned silence before she gave him a soft smile, her eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions – understanding, respect, and perhaps a hint of something else, something deeper. "Tyson," her voice was filled with warmth. "I... I can feel your emotions. Your... affection for Mission. And your interest in... me." She blushed slightly, not expecting this level of openness, but also appreciating his honesty.

"We Jedi are taught to be wary of attachments," she continued, her gaze steady. "They can lead to fear, to anger, to the Dark Side. But your feelings... they're genuine. They're pure. And they are your strength."

She paused, looking at him with an appreciative smile.

Feeling the intensity of the emotions he projected, Tyson quickly reeled back, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He hadn't intended to reveal so much. "I apologize, Bastila," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to... project so strongly. It's my first time trying to... communicate my feelings like this."

Bastila, however, shook her head lightly, her eyes still holding that hint of surprise. But along with it, there was a curiosity, a sparkle of interest that made her look even more captivating under the dim lights of the Ebon Hawk. Bastila spoke softly and reassuringly, "There's no need to apologize. Your ability to convey your emotions through the Force is... it's a unique quality. It's honest and open, a refreshing change to the stoicism we Jedi often surround ourselves with." She held his gaze, her own deep blue eyes shimmering with a sense of wonder. "It's rather endearing, actually," she admitted, a small, amused smile playing at her lips. "It makes you more... normal, and in a way, it's flattering. To know you trust me enough to share so much."

Seeing the spark of interest in Bastila's eyes, Tyson felt a certain comfort with her that encouraged him to share more about himself, and his unusual situation. "Bastila," he hesitated slightly. "I am going to return to my world soon. I have companions there and I want to see if they also have the capability of utilizing the Force."

For a moment, Bastila just looked at him, her eyes wide with curiosity and surprise. Then, she slowly nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands, which were now twisting together in her lap.

Her voice filled with a longing that was almost tangible. "I can sense the affection you have for your companions, and your intention to help them is noble." She paused, "However, my place is with the Jedi. We are facing a significant threat from the Sith, and I must devote my abilities to combatting that threat."

Tyson watched as she spoke, a pang of disappointment hitting him, but he understood. Bastila's duty was with the Jedi Order, just as his was with his companions. "I understand, Bastila," he reassured her with a warm smile. "And I admire your commitment to your duty."

Tyson found his gaze lingering on Bastila a moment longer, and there was something in her eyes, a hint of...disappointment, perhaps? Either way, he found it intriguing and found himself wanting to alleviate it. "Don't worry, Bastila," Tyson said, his voice soft and sincere. "I won't be gone long. I'll return shortly after we arrive on Dantooine."

Bastila looked back at him, a wistful expression on her face. After a moment, she broke into a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I wish you and Mission luck, Tyson," she said, her voice steady but her gaze somewhat distant. There was a moment's pause before she added, "We will be waiting for your return."

And there it was. That subtle hint of jealousy in her voice. The slight tension in her posture. It was barely noticeable, but Tyson felt it through the Force. A slight stirring, a ripple in the calm surface of her emotions. It was fleeting, but he caught it, and it sent a jolt of surprise, and maybe a little thrill, through him.

~~Star Trek: TMG~~

With the calming hum of the Ebon Hawk as their background score, Tyson positioned himself at the archway of the holodeck, HK-47 and Mission by his side. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bastila, her figure a calm silhouette against the muted lights of the ship's corridor. She was watching them, her features unreadable in the semi-darkness.

Mission glanced up at him, her blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "So... what should I expect, Tyson?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a smidge of excitement.

Tyson looked at her, his eyes reflecting a playful light as he responded. "Well, I'm not entirely sure, Mission," he began, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But there's a good chance I'll have to get you a slave collar."

He watched as the Twi'lek's eyes widened slightly before a mischievous grin stretched across her face. She let out a small chuckle, her lekku twitching in amusement. "Sounds kinky. But... I think I can handle it," she said, her voice laced with a teasing undertone.

Even in the face of uncertainty, her spirit remained unyielding and playful, and Tyson couldn't help but appreciate her optimism.

While Tyson and Mission shared their banter, HK-47 looked on, his photoreceptors glowing faintly in the subdued light. "Commentary: Master, your interaction with the Twi'lek female is most... peculiar," the droid's synthesized voice echoed through the chamber, his tone as emotionless as ever.

Still with his hand resting on Mission's shoulder, Tyson shot a glance at the droid, an eyebrow raised in intrigue. He activated the archway and it opened, revealing the Enterprise's corridor. HK-47 continued, the red lights in his eyes never wavering. "Observation: I've catalogued descriptions of your unique abilities, master. They seem to have potential applications in the field of assassination. Hypothetical: Such capabilities could be used to bypass security measures, eliminate targets without detection, or even manipulate others to perform the deed themselves."

Tyson chuckled at HK-47's comment, well aware of the droid's rather unique approach to problem-solving. "HK, remind me to never make you my life coach," Tyson quipped, earning a chuckle from Mission.

Without another word, the trio stepped forward, moving through the archway that served as their link between worlds. As they disappeared from the Ebon Hawk, Bastila was left alone in the corridor, her gaze fixed on the space they once occupied.

"Computer," Tyson addressed the voice-activated system of the Enterprise, his voice echoing slightly in the corridors of the ship. "Locate Selar."

After a brief pause, the computer replied in its monotone voice, "Selar is currently located in your quarters."

Tyson nodded and motioned to Mission and HK-47 to follow him. They navigated the pristine, wide corridors of the Enterprise, taking in the stark difference between this ship and the Ebon Hawk. The corridors were bathed in a gentle light and the air was fresh, quite a departure from the rustic, lived-in feel of the Ebon Hawk.

Upon reaching his quarters, Tyson punched in a code on the sleek panel beside the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a spacious room with minimalist yet comfortable décor.

Mission let out a low whistle, her eyes roving around the room. "Wow, Tyson, your place is swank! Makes the Ebon Hawk look like a junk heap," she remarked with a cheeky grin.

From the side room, Selar emerged, her Vulcan features calm and impassive. She wore a standard Starfleet uniform, her medical insignia shining at her collar. She gave Tyson a customary Vulcan salute. "Tyson, it is agreeable to see you."

HK-47, who had been silently surveying the room, tilted his head at the sight of the new arrival. "Statement: Oh great, more meatbags," he commented in his customary flat, robotic tone.

Mission, meanwhile, caught her breath at the sight of Selar. Her eyes widened, and she nudged Tyson lightly in the side. "Hey, you weren't kidding about the slave collar, were you?" She chuckled nervously, her gaze flicking from Selar's collar back to Tyson. Mission's humor faltered as she noticed the somewhat formal atmosphere of the woman. She cleared her throat, "Uh, sorry. That was a bit rude of me. Hi, I'm Mission. Mission Vao."

HK-47, always one for theatrics, decided to add his own introduction. "Depressed Statement: And I am HK-47, a protocol droid that appears to also have fallen into the unfortunate role of being one of Tyson's slaves."

Tyson rolled his eyes at HK's theatrics, then turned his attention to Selar, his eyes softening. "Selar, I've missed you,"

Tyson gave a weary sigh, his eyes flicking to each of the three present. "I have a long story to tell," he said, his voice bearing a hint of heaviness. "But I'd prefer to only tell it once."

In quick succession, he tapped his combadge twice, activating the device's communication function. "Inquisitor Troi," he said, his voice carrying a note of authority that hadn't been present before, "Could you please come to my quarters?"

Once that request was made, he didn't wait for a response before sending another call. "Lieutenant Yar, I need you to report to my quarters."

Troi arrived shortly after, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she spotted the unusual congregation in Tyson's quarters. There was a brief moment of hesitation in her eyes, no doubt expecting some private time, given the casual tone of Tyson's summon. "Tyson..." she began, her voice trailing off as she glanced over Mission, HK, and Selar, trying to make sense of the gathering.

"Please bear with me, Troi," Tyson interjected gently, a reassuring smile gracing his face. "I'll explain everything once Yar arrives."

Even as he spoke, the door slid open once again. Yar stepped into the room, her eyes wide and cautious as she glanced between Tyson and the others. Her posture was tense, her arrival seemingly triggering the memory of her past missteps, and she wore an expression akin to that of a child expecting to be reprimanded. Her gaze briefly met Tyson's, an unspoken question lingering in her eyes. "Yar, at ease," Tyson directed, his voice calm and steady. "You're not here to be punished."

Relief washed over Yar's face, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She gave a nod of acknowledgment, her soldierly professionalism swiftly resurfacing.

Tyson turned his attention to more pressing matters. "What's the status of the Captain and the Enterprise?" he asked, his eyes moving between Troi and Yar.

Troi stepped forward first, her empathic abilities honing her in on Tyson's serious demeanor. "The Enterprise remains in orbit around Earth," she informed. Her gaze turned thoughtful, as if recalling something. "The Captain... he's still on the surface, engaging in diplomatic discussions."

Yar nodded in agreement, confirming Troi's words. "The Captain has been in constant meetings with the Terran leadership, attempting to decide the best course of action." She paused, her gaze studying Tyson for a moment before adding, "He's kept us on standby for any necessary immediate actions."

Tyson acknowledged the information with a nod, his mind already processing the state of things, preparing for the story he had yet to share. "Everyone, get comfortable," Tyson directed, glancing around the room at the varied faces looking back at him. He paused, allowing everyone to settle into chairs or lean against available surfaces before he began.

Over the next hour, Tyson began the telling of his journey. His voice filled the room with tales of a different galaxy, strange beings, epic battles, and of course, the mysterious and powerful Force. He shared stories of Taris, the Sith, the Undercity, and of how he met Mission and HK.

Mission glanced at him with a knowing smirk as he recounted their adventures, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and pride. HK, on the other hand, remained impassive, adding in occasional sarcastic comments that only heightened the tension. When Tyson finally finished, there was a moment of silence as everyone processed his words. It was Yar who broke it, her tone hesitant yet curious. "Why are you telling us this?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in an attempt to read Tyson's expression. The question hung in the air, echoing the unspoken inquiries of everyone present.

Inquisitor Troi shifted her gaze from Tyson to Yar. "He wants us to accompany him," she said, her voice carrying a touch of uncertainty but mostly understanding. As a Betazoid, Troi was able to read Tyson's thoughts.

Tyson's lips twitched into a wry smile as he turned his gaze to meet Troi's. "She's right," Tyson confirmed, shifting his attention back to the group. "I need powerful allies in this endeavor, and I trust you all. And I believe you all possess the potential to harness the Force, just like Mission and me." His gaze held a certain intensity as he made the declaration, communicating the gravity of what he was asking them.

Tyson's gaze shifted to Yar, studying her silently for a moment before speaking. "Yar, I know you're driven, ambitious. You desire power, don't you?" he inquired, a flicker of intrigue sparking in his eyes.

Yar hesitated, taken aback by his directness. The seconds stretched out as she remained silent, caught in a moment of consideration.

In the midst of this, Tyson turned his attention inward, reaching out to Troi through the Force. 'Deanna, do you know about my... Corruption?' he projected his thoughts, his mental voice a whisper in the silence of her mind.

Troi stiffened slightly, surprise flickering across her features before she quickly schooled them into calmness. She shot him a glance, her expressive eyes conveying a myriad of emotions, from surprise to curiosity. In response to Tyson's question her thoughts rolling back to him in a wave of candor and clarity. 'Yes, I did know about your Corruption,' she admitted silently, her mental tone steady despite the admission.

Tyson's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the revelation bringing more questions than answers. 'Then why?' he asked, his thoughts probing. 'Why allow me to Corrupt you if you knew about it?'

Her mental voice softened, a tender note creeping into it. 'Because I sensed your potential, Tyson,' she replied, a hint of fondness trickling into her words. 'I saw the power you could - and would - wield. I chose to tether myself to that power...to you.' Troi's thoughts echoed on, the weight of her decisions shaping each word. 'It's true, I did the same with Captain Picard,' she confessed, her admission punctuated by an undertone of regret. 'But I knew, the moment I sensed you in engineering that day, that you would go farther. You could do more.'

She projected a sense of her inner strength, resilience, and the desperate hope she held for her people. Her mental voice held a profound conviction, a belief built on Tyson's demonstrated actions and his abilities.

'And your offer now,' she continued, her mental tone softening, 'It only confirms I was right. You can help me. You can help us all.'

In the depth of their telepathic exchange, there was a silent acknowledgment of her trust and respect for him. Tyson responded to Troi's admission, a soothing assurance spreading through their mental bond. 'I understand your actions, Troi,' his thoughts pulsed gently. 'And I don't hold them against you. I'll do my best for you, and for all of us.'

Their telepathic conversation was cut short as Yar's voice echoed through the room. She had been silent for a while, her eyes flicking from one person to the next, her mind attempting to piece together the puzzle. "I get why Selar and Troi are here," she finally admitted, her voice steady yet uncertain. "You have your reasons for them. But...why me? After everything I did...why would you offer me this power?"

Her question hung in the air, a mix of disbelief and hope in her eyes. Tyson looked at Yar, his eyes reflecting the steady resolve within him. "Maybe I'm just soft," he mused aloud, his words carrying a trace of warmth that mirrored their shared past. "I enjoyed some of our time together, Yar. That counts for something."

His gaze then hardened, his tone turning steely, matching the harsh realities of the power dynamics they now found themselves in. "Or maybe I see potential in you," he stated, a hint of challenge entering his voice. "Potential that could be realized, or wasted." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before driving home his point with a thinly veiled threat. "I'm more powerful now than I've ever been, and my power will only keep growing. You're no threat to me. Not anymore, if you ever really were." His gaze held hers unflinchingly. "So, the choice is yours, Yar. Join me, grow with me, or be left behind. Weak. Picard was already wary of you, how do you think Riker will respond if he catches a hint of your scheming and I'm not here to stop him from handling you?"

Tyson's words seemed to hit a nerve. Yar looked as if she was wrestling with the magnitude of his proposal and the potential consequences of her decision. "What about Riker, or Picard?" She finally asked, her voice heavy with apprehension. "What will they think if we all just... disappeared?"

A flicker of a smile graced Tyson's lips. "Let me worry about that," he answered, his voice steady and sure. "Riker and Picard have their own agendas, their own preoccupations. I assure you, your departure will not upset them as much as you fear."

His words seemed to carry the weight of unspoken truths, filled with a certainty that beckoned her towards the unfamiliar path he was offering. Tyson's reassurance seemed to provide the final piece to a puzzle Yar had been struggling with, leading her one step closer to the decision she had to make.

The room went silent as Tyson tapped his combadge, the soft chirp of the device the only sound in the room. "Tyson to Riker," he began, his voice resonating in the room. "Inquisitor Troi and myself are going on an extended shore leave. We're taking Lieutenant Yar as protection and Selar. I'm going to take the witch off your hands for a bit. If the Enterprise leaves Earth, I'll find a ride back on my own."

The response didn't come immediately, but when it did, the uncertainty in Riker's voice was palpable. "Tyson, this is... unconventional," he began, the sound of his voice filled with unease. "And I am not sure if the Captain will approve..."

"Riker," Tyson interjected, his voice remaining firm, "I've got this. We'll be back."

There was a moment of silence from the other end before Riker finally responded, his voice weary, "Alright, Tyson. But don't think for a moment we're not keeping an eye on you. Riker out."

Yar's gaze flickered between Tyson and the now silent combadge in his hand. She was smart, a survivor, and she knew when the scales were tipped. There was no choice left for her now, not really. Tyson had made it for her, and with a sense of inevitability, she nodded, acknowledging her new path.

Beside her, Troi's gaze was soft, approving. This was the lesson she had tried to impart on Tyson from the start. The raw, ruthless spirit that was uniquely Terran - they didn't ask, they took. Or, they used their power to bend the reality around them until it fit their needs. Tyson was learning, finally starting to grasp the crux of it. The faint smile on Troi's lips spoke volumes, a silent endorsement of Tyson's development. He was stepping into the intricate dance of power and persuasion, and she couldn't help but admire his growing competence.

Tyson stood tall and cleared his throat, capturing the attention of the diverse group before him. "Before we leave, there is one thing left to do. We must ensure you can all access the Force."

With that, Tyson's gaze grew focused, intense. He reached out with his own senses, touching upon the Corruption that resided within each of them. His Corruption, once seeded, had grown. Each one had Force Sensitivity unlocked, gifting them the ability to Use the Force, and furthermore, he gave them access to the power of Telekinesis. However, when he came to Yar, he hesitated. It wasn't out of any bias against her, regardless of their past. It was the simple fact of her Corruption levels. It wasn't high enough for both abilities. So, Tyson unlocked her ability to sense the Force, the rest would be up to her.

~~Star Trek: TMG~~

Tyson led the motley crew through the corridors of the Enterprise to the holodeck. The surroundings shifted around them as they stepped through the archway, transitioning from the sleek futuristic aesthetic of the starship to the more rustic and lived-in ambiance of the Ebon Hawk. The vessel was empty, Bastila Shan nowhere to be found upon their arrival.

As Tyson's attention was entirely consumed by his drive to return to the realm he had just left, he missed the flicker on the holodeck console. Another Instant Dungeon option had unlocked.

Gathering in the cargo bay of the Ebon Hawk, the metallic surroundings echoed with the hum of idling engines. Mission stepped to the forefront. Her azure eyes twinkled with mischief and knowledge as she started her impromptu seminar. "Alright, listen up, everyone," Mission began, her voice echoing in the cargo bay. Her typical nonchalant demeanor was replaced by an uncharacteristically serious one as she began to explain the ins and outs of their new universe. She regaled them with tales of Jedi and Sith, of Hutt crime lords and dangerous bounty hunters, painting a vivid picture of a galaxy far, far away.

Tyson observed the session with a quiet nod of approval. The Force users of his group might have had powers beyond her comprehension, but in this universe, Mission's street smarts were invaluable. They would all need to adapt, learn, and blend in. And Mission's lecture was just the beginning. After Mission had finished her lesson, the motley crew broke off into smaller conversations, discussing the myriad aspects of the universe they were about to delve into. The sounds of chatter and the hum of the Ebon Hawk's engines filled the cargo bay, while Tyson made his way over to the young Twi'lek.

In his hand, he held a beautiful collar. It was a joke on his part, a playful jab at the idea he had teased earlier about her needing a slave collar. However, Tyson was never one for half measures. The collar he had replicated for her was an exquisite piece of jewelry - a choker made from pure gold, encrusted with brilliant diamonds. Mission's name was delicately engraved onto it, adding a personal touch to the ornate accessory.

"Here," Tyson said, presenting the collar to her. His eyes danced with mirth, yet there was an undertone of appreciation for the young woman. Mission had proved invaluable to their group. She gasped as she took the collar, her wide azure eyes taking in its sparkling beauty. But then, her eyes narrowed, her gaze turning to Tyson. Even amidst the tense preparations, Tyson's humour wasn't lost on her. Yet, she would not let it go unanswered.

"Alright, Tyson," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she slipped the collar on. The choker fit snugly around her slender neck, its gemstones catching the light and making her azure skin glow. "I'll wear this... but trust me, you'll be paying for this one way or another."

The promise in her voice held an air of playful threat that perfectly echoed their camaraderie. Tyson couldn't help but chuckle, knowing full well that he had signed up for whatever retaliation Mission had planned.

Just as Tyson was prepared to guide his companions on their new journey, the familiar figure of Bastila Shan re-emerged. Her entrance was as graceful and commanding as always. She paused for a moment, observing Tyson's company with a knowing glance. "I had expected you would not return alone," she said, her voice calm and composed. "The Jedi Council is aware of your presence, and they wish to meet with you and your companions. They also wish to test your abilities."

Tyson nodded in understanding. It was a reasonable request, he knew. They were outsiders in this universe, after all, their skills and motivations unknown to the Jedi Council.

With their purpose now set, the group departed the Ebon Hawk and set foot on Dantooine for the first time. As the ship's ramp lowered, a blast of fresh air welcomed them, a stark contrast to the recycled air of the spacecraft.

Dantooine was a sight to behold. The planet was adorned with sweeping, open plains of rolling green under a cerulean sky dotted with fluffy clouds. Fields of tall, pale grass swayed gently in the breeze, while exotic, blooming flora added bursts of color to the verdant landscape. Majestic avian creatures took flight, their wings catching the sunlight, as other strange but seemingly peaceful creatures grazed in the grasslands.

Against the backdrop of this lush scenery, ancient stone structures of the Jedi Enclave loomed in the distance. Their grandeur and antiquity basked in the light of Dantooine's sun, a silent testament to the generations of Jedi wisdom and training that had transpired within their walls.

All around them, the members of Tyson's group were in awe. Dantooine, with its untamed beauty and aura of serenity, was a stark contrast to the ship interiors they were used to. Troi held a small fear that Tyson had been deluded by the realism of the holodeck, but holodecks couldn't handle this much space for such a large group, and holo characters didn't have thoughts she could read like Bastila.

Bastila guided Tyson's group toward the enclave that housed the Jedi Council. Her movements were fluid and assured, each step a testament to her mastery and control. As they reached the council chambers, however, Bastila turned to the group, her gaze firm. "I would ask you all to wait here," she said, her voice carrying an undercurrent of solemnity. "The council wishes to speak with Tyson alone first."

One by one, the group nodded in understanding, moving to stand aside while Tyson moved forward, Bastila guiding him to the entrance. The towering doors of the council chamber opened to reveal a circular room bathed in ambient light.

Tyson was met by the watchful eyes of the council members. They sat in a semi-circle, their aged faces radiating a calm and measured wisdom. The man who stood at the center was the first to speak. "Ah, so you are the one who rescued Bastila. It is appropriate you are here. We have been discussing your rather special case," he began, his gaze steady on Tyson. His voice was mellow but carried a resonance that filled the chamber. "I am Zhar, a member of the Jedi Council. With me are Master Vrook, Master Vandar and, of course, the Chronicler of our Academy, Master Dorak. Padawan Bastila I am sure you are already familiar with."

The council members nodded in acknowledgment, their faces revealing nothing of their thoughts. They regarded Tyson with a mix of curiosity and caution, their gazes piercing, evaluating his worth. Tyson regarded each council member for a moment, his eyes lingering on each face before finally speaking. His voice filled the room, "I've got some questions for all of you."

Zhar Lestin, the eldest among them, leaned forward, his hands folded in front of him. "Indeed, I am sure that you do. I assure you that we will have answers for you," he promised.

"Why was Bastila captured on Taris?" Tyson asked.

Vandar Tokare, the Yoda-like Jedi seated beside Zhar, responded with an air of gravitas, "Darth Malak seeks to destroy the Jedi Order. Our most effective weapon, perhaps our only hope, is Bastila's skill with Battle Meditation. With this power she can swing the tide of nearly any battle in our favor. Which is why Malak was seeking her so fervently."

Zhar nodded, then added, "We need Bastila in our fight against the Sith. Indeed, we need every Jedi we can muster since the Sith have been hunting us down at every opportunity. Which brings us to you and your companions..." He let the implication hang in the air before adding, "Bastila tells us you are strong in the Force. We are considering you for Jedi training."

Vrook Lamar, a grizzled Jedi with an austere demeanor, interrupted sharply, "Master Zhar speaks out of turn, perhaps. We need indisputable proof of your strong affinity to the Force before we would even consider accepting you for training."

Bastila stepped forward, an undercurrent of indignation in her voice. "Proof? Surely the entire Council can feel the strength of the Force within this man... and I have already related to you the events that took place on Taris..."

Vrook countered dismissively, "Perhaps it was simple luck."

Zhar Lestin retorted, "We both know there is no luck. There is only the Force. We all feel the power in Bastila's companion, though it is wild and untamed. Now that this power has begun to manifest itself, can we safely ignore it?"

As he spoke, the chamber filled with a thick tension. The Council was clearly at odds, yet united in their intrigue and concern for Tyson. The weight of their scrutiny lay heavy on Tyson's shoulders, yet he met their gazes with an unflinching resolve. Vrook Lamar crossed his arms over his chest, his stern gaze fixed on Tyson. "The Jedi training is long and difficult, even when working with a young and open mind. Teaching a child is hard. How much harder will it be for an adult to learn the ways of the Jedi?"

Tyson calmly met the Master's gaze, "I and my companions are ready to accept the training."

Vrook snorted dismissively, "Such pride! Such arrogance! Ach. This one is already on the path to the dark side!"

Vandar Tokare intervened, "As are many who are not given proper training, Master Vrook. Only through our guidance can we hope to lead those who have strayed back to the path of light."

Tyson nodded solemnly, "We are willing to try our best."

Dorak, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up. "Traditionally the Jedi do not accept adults for training, though there are rare exceptions in the history of our Order. But you are a special case."

Vandar Tokare added his agreement, "I concur with Master Dorak. Many of our own pupils are leaving the Jedi Order to follow the Sith teachings. We need recruits to stand against Malak. With Revan dead..."

Vrook cut him off with a gruff question, "Are you certain Revan is truly dead? There are rumors that Revan has been seen at Malak's side once again. What if we undertake to train this one, and the Dark Lord should return?"

Vandar Tokare raised a hand to quell the rising tension, "We should discuss this matter more fully in private. Bastila, you and your companion must go. This is a matter for the Council alone."

Bastila nodded, her voice calm and respectful, "As you wish, Master Vandar. We shall return to the Ebon Hawk and leave you to your deliberations."

As Bastila led Tyson away from the Council Chambers, the air of uncertainty left behind was palpable. This was a decisive moment, not just for Tyson and his companions, but for the Jedi Order itself.

The following morning, as the first rays of Dantooine's sun began to pierce the serenity of the Jedi Enclave, Bastila led Tyson back to the Jedi Council. The hushed whispers of morning echoed through the stone hallways, hinting at the monumental decision that lay ahead. As they stepped into the Council Chambers, Vandar Tokare was the first to break the silence, his voice solemn, "You have a strong affinity with the Force. With such power comes great responsibility... and danger."

Zhar Lestin followed up, his eyes grave as they met Tyson's, "Your strength is a threat to Darth Malak. In time he will learn of you, and the Sith will hunt you down. It is inevitable. Defeating the Sith is the only way to save yourself."

Tyson squared his shoulders, his gaze never wavering from the Council's. "I will learn your Jedi powers and defeat Malak."

Vrook Lamar frowned, his skepticism evident. "The Force flows through you like no student we have ever seen. But you are willful and headstrong... a dangerous combination."

Zhar Lestin raised a hand, tempering Vrook's criticism, "We must begin your training at once. You have a destiny upon you that you must be prepared to face."

Vrook Lamar sighed, seemingly resigned to the path they had chosen, "I can only hope your group will prove up to the task."

As they left the Council Chambers, Tyson could not help but feel a sense of hope. His journey had just begun, he and his companions would be trained by the Jedi, but it seemed the council already had expectations he would be facing the Sith Lords. His training had yet to begin and already it seemed as though the weight of the galaxy was on his shoulders.

AN: I've been sitting on this chapter for over a month and just didn't have the motivation to edit. Bit down and sped through it today so apologies if there's more errors than usually. I really want to close off this story so I can focus on other works. The next chapter will likely be the last. It should set events up nicely to line up with the main story. To save myself some time, it will likely be more of a collection of scenes than a full story-style chapter.