A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

Episode II: A Star Path

Four thousand years before the rise of the Galactic Empire, WES GALE, newly initiated into the Jedi Order, trains underneath his patient MASTER ZHAR in the ways of the Force.

Still reminded of DARTH MALAK's destruction of the Outer Rim world Taris, the group that escaped its surface count the days until the Sith Lord unleashes his full might upon the Republic's forces.

A month has passed and each day Wes' knowledge of the Force grows. As he studies on the Outer Rim world of Dantooine, however, he has become restless and begins to question the teachings of the Jedi Order...

A gray planet coursed with lightning. Millions of screams shouted through the Force. Explosions. Death. Darkness.

A soft wind blew my shoulder-length hair with the motions of the grasses. Echoes from that odd vision disappeared with my meditation.

The nighttime Dantooine air was still, peaceful. The crickets chirped their usual greetings by the lakeside. I'd stayed out here for too long again. Kriff. Instead of rushing back to the Enclave, however, I leaned back over the golden grasses with a sigh.

When I first opened myself to the Force, it was as if I was alive after being dead for years. Master Zhar put me through the paces that first week. Physical training included runs around the Enclave, stances with a practice blade, and sparring with my fellow students. Of course, I'd been an ass at first—skipping my lessons out of protest—but after that first grueling week, the most important lesson began.

"Concentrate, Wes."

Master Zhar forced me to sit on a mat in front of a datapad. For once, I listened to him and closed my eyes in concentration. When nothing happened, I opened my eyes again and stared up at the pale red Twi'lek.

"Is...something supposed to happen?"

The Master's stern face dipped. "To connect with the Force requires great concentration and focus. You see I or Bastila or any other Jedi use the Force with ease, yet that is because we have practiced honing our concentration for years to make it appear effortless."

I stared down at the datapad. Years...did we have that long?

He must have sensed my hopelessness. "You, however, are a special case. You have been using the Force instinctively. So, again, concentrate. There is no emotion, there is peace. Clear your mind and move the datapad."

I sighed. He made it sound so easy. Still, I closed my eyes. A part of me wanted to prove to him that I could do what he asked.

Cool air. The distant smacking of practice blades. Shallow breathing. A strong pulse. There. In the heart was power. The air buzzed with it. There is no emotion, there is peace. Yet, I felt it. All I had to do was push with that feeling.

The datapad clattered to the linoleum floor. It had moved a foot away from me and it landed next to Master Zhar. I smiled up at him—the first smile I ever gave the stern Jedi. I thought he would have celebrated my success.

Only his celebration was muted.

"Very...good."

I frowned. Somehow, he seemed more disappointed than impressed.

And that had to change.

After that, I attended all of the training sessions. Because using the Force was exhilarating. Why had I been so against it before? I enjoyed using it so much, that I took the time after hours to meditate by this lakeside. Alone. While I loved the feeling the Force gave me, the Masters insisted on control, discipline, order. I could only use the Force during particular lessons. Which left next to no time for...experimentation.

I sat up from the grasses and spotted the rocks littering the lakeside. I grinned.

One more time before I return to my prison cell.

A low boom and buzz filled the air. The Force. I lifted my hand and focused on the rocks. Two of them hovered as if being pulled by strings. With a push, the rocks skidded on the water. Five, ten, twenty, one hundred times. I lifted my other hand and sent more across the waves. The rocks danced atop the water yet none of them faltered. Perfect, complete control. Control that the Masters insisted that I lacked.

Then, something stirred in the bushes.

A rock had been hovering in the air and the noise caused it to jolt. I managed to stop it from colliding with the intruder.

The rock fell to the ground with a thump.

"What the hell, Bastila! Maybe warn me next time you decide to skulk around."

She crossed her arms. Uh, oh.

"I shouldn't have to warn you. We have a bond, remember?"

Right. That.

Because Bastila and I had this Force bond, Master Zhar included her in some of my lessons. Sometimes she fought against me with practice blades. She beat my ass...every time. A man's ego breaks eventually after the continuous beatings I received. I swear she never took it easy on me either. Then sometimes she would lecture. Most of the time it was about techniques on resisting the dark side. I hated those more than the beatings, honestly.

Before I could remark on Bastila's stalker-like tendencies, the Jedi stomped to my side.

"I came looking for you. It is way past curfew."

I shrugged. "Lost track of time—honest. And why do I have a curfew anyway? While I am training with children, I am not one, thank you very much."

She eyed the rock I almost crushed her head with. "And what, exactly, were you doing with that?"

"Oh, this?" I smirked—feeling slightly giddy. "I've been practicing throwing projectiles. See, it's one thing to hover stuff around with the Force, but what use is that during combat?" Another rock hovered and I sent it skipping across the waves. "A small, fast object is more deadly than a large immovable one that takes twice the energy to lift. So, I'm sending these across the water as fast as possible. My record is ten seconds to the other side, by the way. Wanna try and beat it?"

But Bastila did not look impressed. No, she looked...terrified.

"That—do you think that using the Force is a game?"

I frowned. The rock I sent across the waves didn't even make it to the other shore.

"So, what, you're saying you don't use the Force for fun every once and a while?"

"There is nothing fun about this." She huffed. I sensed frustration through the bond that she was trying desperately to suppress. "You use the Force like no one I've ever seen, but you don't take it seriously. Do you know how dangerous that is?"

I stopped lifting one of the rocks. My shoulders fell and my voice grew dark. "How exactly am I supposed to take this seriously when the Jedi Council refuses to take me seriously?" I glanced up at her. "I've trained enough. They know that I've trained enough. What are they expecting? Perfection? I've learned all that I could as a lowly Apprentice. I'm ready to take my trials, Bastila. So...tell me, what am I missing? What?"

Her face grew dark and I could feel her emotions swirling in the Force. Guilt, loss, pain, and doubt. They were all there.

Her answer was immediate. "There is no emotion, there is peace."

I scoffed. "Obviously there is emotion. You wouldn't feel like hitting me in the face right now—" A pebble slapped me in the back of my head. I twisted round then waved at the Jedi. "See?"

"You are the most frustratingly arrogant man alive." Bastila was red-faced. "We are taught as Jedi to control our emotions. That may not necessarily mean they don't exist but we still have to do our best to fight them back. That is why you will never be ready. The Council is afraid that you will succumb to the dark side. You exhibit dangerous thoughts about the Force, don't hide your blatant arrogance, and defy the Jedi Council at every turn. That is what you're missing."

And she stomped away, leaving me to simmering by the lake.

That is what the Masters meant by my "lack of control." They meant that I lacked control over my emotions.

I hadn't really attempted to act like I believed in the Jedi's brainwash. Particularly when it came to the Jedi Code. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Blah, blah, blah. I would question Master Zhar or Dorak and sometimes even Vrook about the Code, asking them for reasons. And, apparently, questions like that brought me down a peg in their eyes. Passion and emotion, dangerous qualities that I've openly expressed in front of the Masters.

No wonder why we've been sitting around here as I "trained." I was too dangerous in the eyes of the Masters. A child who didn't understand their misguided ways. But there was no way I was going to fall for any of their brainwash either. Even to appease them. Which meant that I was trapped here. Held hostage until I bowed before the Jedi's philosophies.

I shot to my feet. Twenty rocks flew all at once into the lake. They splashed water over my boots.

Kriff it all.

My sleep was dreamless, fortunately, and the 0600 early morning rays cracked open my crusty eyes.

Another day of training.

Joy.

I sighed as I rubbed my recent bruises then grabbed my robes from the dresser. The schedule had become hardwired into my brain: get up, eat breakfast, listen to Zhar lecture about the different lightsaber stances, apply them in the form of Bastila beating me to death, then listen to Master Dorak go on about Jedi history. Finally, I would read from a datapad for hours before lunch. After that, meditation, meditation, more meditation.

I trudged down the Enclave hallways—my body and soul heavy. A whole month of pissing around waiting. The Sith were still out there terrorizing the Republic. Not that I cared about that stupid war, but shouldn't the Council be a little bit concerned? I barely saw Vandar, I wished I saw less of Dorak, and every time I saw Vrook I cringed. None of them looked especially busy fighting the Sith.

A few Jedi nodded at me as I stormed down the halls. I had already grown a reputation around here as the "prodigy." Some of the other Apprentices and even some Padawans approached me at random times of the day. All of them wanted me to tell them the "secret" or to give them words of "wisdom." But there was no secret and I had no wisdom.

The mess hall was crowded as usual in the early morning. I raised an eyebrow after I spotted a familiar figure in the corner.

"Where have you been?" I asked Canderous. "It's been a month since I last saw you. I thought you left."

The Mandalorian snorted, glancing down at my robes. "I knew you were lying to me on Taris. You are a Jedi." He smirked. "And as for what I've been up to..." He threw a metal rod at me and I caught it deftly.

"This is—?"

"A lightsaber." He chuckled as he saw my suspicious expression. "I didn't kill any of you Jedi to get it if that's what you're thinking. I got that off of the hands of another Mandalorian. One that has been raiding the Dantooine countryside for a while now. Of course, I killed that dishonorable son of a bitch."

I nodded my head, remembering tales of Mandalorian raiders in the East. The Jedi Council had sent a Jedi Knight to bring the raiders to justice, yet after reports of the Knight's death, they didn't bother to send anyone else. Of course.

"Did you get all of them?" I asked.

Canderous Ordo chuckled. "You think I'm an army, pipsqueak? I'm not going to risk my neck invading a clan by myself. I might be a battle-hardened warrior...but I'm not stupid."

A clan. So, these weren't just simple raiders. An entire clan was on Dantooine. I shuddered. And there the Jedi were—ignoring another problem.

No.

I shoved the lightsaber at Canderous.

"Do whatever you want with that," I said.

I probably could have taken it to the Jedi Masters, but they would only ask annoying questions about where I found it. And, to be honest, I didn't want to answer those questions. Not when I was beginning to plot something marginally stupid.

The Mando raised his dark eyebrows. "You sure?" He shrugged. "If you say so..."

He pocketed the saber as I left. My thoughts raced dangerously. There is no chaos, there is harmony. But is there really? My walking pace turned into stomps as I headed towards the training rooms. How long were the Mandos going to terrorize the farmers before the Jedi Council took action?

Probably forever.

I arrived at the training halls—the most chaotic area of the Enclave. Young Jedi Apprentices sparred with each other while being guided by their Masters. The hall I had been assigned was near the back—far from the other practicing students. My own Master, Zhar, had been speaking to someone when I arrived. He raised his brow as I stomped in.

"Good morning, Apprentice," he said. "Early today, I see..."

Bastila watched us with crossed arms—the mirrors reflected her ever disappointed frown at me. Great—it was one of those lessons. My face twitched—recalling the venom we shot at each other last night. I wouldn't have been surprised if she blabbed to Master Zhar about that.

I tried to control the frustration in my voice when I answered. "Thought it would be good to get a head start to the day, Master."

The Twi'lek glanced at Bastila and she returned the look. They always shared these looks as if they were in on some plot to dominate the galaxy. Eventually, I approached the weapon racks and grabbed one of the wooden practice blades. A numb feeling formed in my chest as Master Zhar began his lesson.

"We'll first review Form I and Form III. Then, I will teach you Form IV, Ataru, while combining previous forms into combat."

I stared at the hilt of the practice saber for over a minute as my Master rambled on about the intricacies of the Forms. Eventually, his words faded until the only thing that mattered was the practice blade in my hand.

The blades smacked together in a strange rhythm. Sweat beaded on my face. I smiled. I'd never felt so alive—

I jumped when a hand gripped my shoulder.

"Are you alright, Wes?" Zhar asked.

My mouth was open, yet only now did I take a breath.

"Yes, I—" There is no emotion, there is peace. I lowered the blade. "It's...nothing. Sorry, Master."

Master Zhar didn't look convinced though with that frown on his face.

"Then prepare yourself."

I flipped the practice blade while giving Bastila an eye—expecting her to start blabbing about my late-night "games." Except, she stood in silence as Master Zhar went through the sequences of Form I and III again. Form I—Shii-Cho. It focused on defense against multiple enemies by using disarming maneuvers. Flimsy combat droids with wooden staffs popped up from the floor. I flipped my blade once as I eyed the five droids. Then, they sprung into action.

I dodged the first droid and disarmed it with a flick. The next one tried to slash my side, yet I blocked the blow. The force of the block was enough to cause the staff to skid out of the droid's grip. The last three droids attacked at the same time yet I rose a hand. The droids froze before their staves connected with me. Then I pushed and they clattered to the far side of the training hall.

I hadn't even broken a sweat.

Master Zhar's reflection in the mirror was calm as he admonished me. "Apprentice, please refrain from using the Force directly on your opponents. Form I focuses entirely on disarming maneuvers." He tapped a button on the training module controls and the droids reset themselves. "Again."

My right arm twitched and my face tightened.

The droids attacked again. And I defended against them again. This time, I weaved and dodged with precision. It had taken longer than the first round, but eventually, the staves fell to the mat.

Next, Form III—Soresu. Another defensive form. For this one, Master Zhar gave me a helmet designed to block both sound and sight. I needed to sense the droid's swipes with the Force and block its attacks until I no longer could. The darkness and the silence only granted me focus as I predicted where the droid was going to attack next. It took an hour before the droid finally landed a hit. Sweat had begun to build on my chest as I finally threw the helmet off, wincing at the light.

Then, finally, Zhar taught me Form IV—Ataru. The first offensive form I was to learn. It relied on speed which was good because I had become tired of blocking and weaving attacks. Bastila and Master Zhar demonstrated the form. As they attacked each other, they became a blur of brown and pale red. When it was my turn to replicate, I was at a loss.

Master Zhar must have sensed my hesitation. "Strike fast but with purpose. Wild attacks will make you unbalanced. And remember, there is no chaos, there is harmony."

And I did so. The air tingled with the Force and my body moved supernaturally fast. So fast, I didn't know how I could still breathe. The practice blades sounded like rapid fire from a blaster cannon as Master Zhar blocked and parried each of my blows. Eventually, after a few minutes of this, the Twi'lek called for me to stop. More sweat beaded down my forehead.

He gave me a short break before it was time to put the forms into practice.

Bastila and I each readied into our stances and stood a few meters apart. Her face was more serene than before when she had shouted at me by the lakeside. Of course, since she was in front of a Master, now she practiced what she preached. I held the wooden blade in a reverse grip—the edge of the blade pointed directly at my opponent.

I was the first to attack with a dive. She blocked it with ease, but I then alternated between forms in no specific pattern.

Bastila specialized in the use of Form II—Makashi. Elegant, refined—the opposite of her actual qualities. I ducked when she twirled the blade in a wide arch at my head. As I recovered, she saw another opening and slashed down. I was somehow able to block the attack, however, the practice blade flew out of my hand. I cursed but before she tapped my shoulder to signify my defeat, I pulled the blade towards me using the Force. It spun in the air and landed in the palm of my hand. A loud clack resounded from the two wooden practice sabers colliding together.

She attacked me again and I was put on the defensive, my newly learned offensive form worthless. The wooden blade snapped at me once, adding a new bruise, and every time I blocked I grew tired. But nothing was going to take away my victory. Not this time.

She was using Ataru now, so I weaved away instead of blocking the strikes that would tire me further. She was a blur as she attacked yet I was still able to avoid her acrobatic forms. And she was growing tired, just as I guessed she would. We locked blades again. I regripped the hilt as she pushed down. There was a slight break of emotion on her face—frustration.

"What are you—?"

I pushed her away with a smile, twirling the practice blade.

If I beat Bastila Shan, the Masters would have no choice but to admit that I was ready.

I didn't give her a chance to finish as I dove into Ataru myself, relentlessly going on the offense. She grunted as she was forced to block my overarching attacks, her face drained of color. I was moving unpredictably and—admittedly—not sticking with the sequences Zhar taught me. How was I supposed to beat her though if I was being predictable?

Using as much aggression that I had saved from previous fights, I pushed myself as hard as possible using the Ataru form. A bead of sweat went down Bastila's forehead and I knew I had her. I turned to disarm her, but when our blades collided...

Her saber broke into a million wooden shards.

Bastila appeared shocked as she lowered her broken blade—her face paled. Master Zhar was speechless as well. I was breathing heavily and wiped my brow of sweat. I beat her...right? Did that count?

I gave Master Zhar a hopeful look.

He shuddered. "W-What you just used..."

I threw my practice blade to the ground. I couldn't hide my frustration any longer.

"What did I do wrong now?"

He watched my face then gave Bastila one of those looks.

"Nothing. Practice is over for today."

And he walked out with that emotionless expression I'd gotten used to seeing after disappointing him. I'd just beaten one of their best students, yet he acted as if I had failed.

Guess I did nothing right.

I grabbed a washcloth and drained my face of sweat, looking forward to Dorak's lecture on Sith Wars and inner political struggles of the past. Because at least then I didn't get a moral lecture about my own actions. I turned and noticed that Bastila was still there. Eerily staring at me. I slapped the cloth onto the metal balance bar and turned to face her with my hands on my hips.

"You wanna say something?" I asked.

I snapped her out of her reverie. She shook her head, pigtails flying.

"The last sparing...it was tiresome."

I responded by grabbing my dark brown cloak and shoved it on. After I refreshed myself, Bastila had moved and was now looking out the windows into Dantooine's blue sky. I smirked. Then, she tripped out of nowhere—somehow. I turned around, pretending I had nothing to do with her fall as she yelped—more in surprise than pain.

"What was that for?"

I tutted. "Tripping on air...you really are losing your touch."

She blustered as she stood back up. "That was you—you just—you... you childish fiend!"

I rubbed my stubbled chin. "And stumbling over your own words as well? What happened to the perfect Jedi princess?"

She huffed in her pretty Talravin accent. "I am not perfect. No one is perfect."

"Of course you say that—after I beat you."

She twitched. "You think that is what matters? That you beat me in some fight?" She crossed her arms. "You forget that I can sense your emotions during battle. All I could sense from you was pure aggression. But as a Jedi you are supposed to temper your aggression. So, who really won here?"

"Ah, so you're a sore loser then."

"You are just—"

She stopped before she even got started. I barely heard underneath her breath the Jedi Code. Despite her mumblings, a tornado of emotions were exchanged in the bond. Before I could comment on her contradictory behavior, she stormed out of the training hall after Master Zhar.

When she left, my smile faded.

"I see you insist on wandering the halls of our Enclave when you should be busy studying your lessons."

Why did I have to run into Master Vrook of all people?

I hadn't skipped lessons since that first week at the Jedi Enclave, yet after that fight with Bastila I'd become...restless. The disappointed looks from all of the Masters were starting to get to me. That and my assignment had lots of flowery writing about how to control your emotions and...ugh, it was pedantic. So, I decided walking the halls was a better use of my time than reading that bantha poo doo.

I rolled my eyes before I turned to face the Master.

"My lessons are going well, Master Vrook," I said with a smile, bowing. "I finished my assignments early. Was just—"

"I find it hard to believe that you have completed all of your studies in an hour. What has Master Dorak assigned you?"

I looked off to the side, trying to make up something that would take an hour. I smiled once I figured out a clever lie. "Oh, the Mandalorian Wars of course. See, I already know about said war. I'm pretty confident—"

"It doesn't matter if you're confident about your predisposed knowledge. Your lessons are there to specifically guide you in the ways of the Jedi lest you suffer a fate similar to that of Revan."

I pursed my lips. That was a little extreme. Was every Jedi that attempted to skip assignments a Sith Lord now? Unfortunately, Vrook saw my defiance and crossed his arms, not intending me to let me go.

I crossed my arms. "I doubt that I'd 'suffer a fate similar to that of Revan' by overlooking a part of history that I already know well enough about."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew anything. Because...you act exactly like him."

My mouth hung open as I stared at the gray-haired Jedi. What was this old guy going on about? Before I could ask him that, he told me to walk with him. Since I had no choice, I walked by his side.

Vrook looked off into the Dantooine sky. "Revan was a promising young Padawan. Always eager to learn more about the Force, he rose in the ranks and became a Jedi Knight. That curiosity led him down a dark path as he sought knowledge of Sith artifacts and practices, foolishly ignoring the dangers of the dark side." He continued. "When the Mandalorian Wars started, despite our insistent warnings, he joined the conflict dragging thousands of eager Jedi with him into the Outer Rim worlds. After he disappeared, we knew he had fallen."

I pursed my lips. "O-kay? But what does that have to do with me?"

"Everything." Vrook's old voice broke. "I've heard from Master Zhar about your progress. While your use of the Force is...extraordinary, your passion is similar to that of Revan's. And if you do not control your passions, you will fall down a similar path."

"Oh, come on, do you really believe that?" I tried to stop a smirk from spreading on my face. "No matter how many times you try to insist on it, I'm not Revan. I'm not Malak either. Sure, I started late. Sure, I make mistakes. But how is it even fair for you to pass that type of judgment on me when I have done nothing to deserve it?"

The Master jerked to a stop in my peripheral vision and I stopped with him. Vrook was redder than any sun, his dark glare like a lightsaber to my chest.

He shook his wrinkled head. "You really haven't learned a thing, have you?"

To be quite honest, I was afraid of the Jedi Master then, he actually looked hostile. My mouth shot open as I felt that intent, strange anger coming from a Jedi Master who preached control.

I looked away.

Suddenly, his anger faded, replaced entirely with simple annoyance. "If you find me overly critical, perhaps it is because you do not fully understand what is at stake. For fifteen thousand years the Republic has brought peace and stability to the galaxy. Now the Republic may fall because we, the Jedi, have failed them."

I raised my eyebrows at the Master, surprised that he actually looked...guilty?

Master Vrook continued. "Revan and Malak were paragons of the ideals the Order seeks to uphold, yet they succumbed to the temptations of the dark side. When Revan fell, Malak took up the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith. What will happen once Malak is defeated? What's stopping another Jedi from taking his place?"

"That's not going to happen though," I said. "I'm nothing like that."

The old master sighed. "You really don't understand, do you? Because of our failures, as masters, we have to watch over our pupils and make sure they do not succumb to the dark side as easily as Revan and Malak. That is why I can expect nothing but perfection from you."

The stress of that statement caused a bead of sweat to fall from my face. Why did they place such high expectations on me? I was a smuggler before this happened, their damn expectations should be low, not high.

Master Vrook eyed me once before he walked past me. Then as a final call...

"Go back to your lessons. If you are not careful then the dark side will consume all." He stopped before the door of his office. "And when that happens, there will be no one left to save you."

Meditations.

I'd been hovering above the ground for the past hour. The silence of the meditation room allowed for focus, concentration, peace. Yet all I could think about was tribulations and chaos. Master Vrook's words had been the cause of said anxiety. If I fell, no one could save me. The dark side was all-encompassing. My passions were a weakness. So were my emotions. As these thoughts entered my meditation, that buzzing feeling of the Force grew more and more. But I tried to suppress this sensation.

Tried.

And failed.

Yes, you're a failure. Can't control your emotions. Probably going to fall to the dark side. You'll kill innocents. And it'll be because you were a stupid nerf herder—

A multitude of clatters. I yelped when my ass hit the meditation mats.

My eyes widened when I saw all of the chairs in the room laying about broken in different positions. None of them were upright as if a large wind had picked them up and tossed them to the floor. I rubbed my face. Unbelievable...after I told myself to reign it in, I had to go and do that.

A chatter surrounded me. I looked up and noticed a group of Padawans and Apprentices gawking as if I was a freak show. I heard a few shouts from the crowd to move out of the way and almost ran when three of the masters—Dorak, Vrook, and Zhar—moved through the crowd.

"That's enough back to your lessons," Dorak pleaded with the group of young ones.

I picked myself up as the crowd dispersed then I observed the mess I made. Well, guess I should clean that up. I shoved all the chairs one by one back against the wall—leaving the ones that had broken in the fall. I'd actually begun trying to suppress my emotions, but in the process, I somehow created an even bigger mess. I rubbed my brow with sweat when I finished. I know I could have used the Force to move them...but I was used to doing things by hand. I couldn't always rely on the Force like a crutch.

I hadn't noticed before, but Bastila had also been there gawking at me like one of the Apprentices. I smirked at her, digging my hands into my robe pockets and walking past her, noticing that the sun was setting. So, I wasn't meditating for an hour after all. Time seemed to fly while in that meditative state.

As if in response my stomach growled.

Bastila crossed her arms and followed me to the mess hall. She was giving me that stare as if she wanted to say something.

I stopped walking. "What?"

Might as well get the lecture over with.

"That—I felt—You shouldn't... Forget it."

I smirked at her and instead of continuing to walk on like she probably expected, I drew closer to her face, my smile growing. I could see that she looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Come on, you can tell me, Bondy," I said.

As if that word was a curse she huffed while shaking her head, pigtails bouncing.

"Bondy? What is that supposed to mean?"

She resumed walking and I matched her strides.

"You know...a combination of bond and buddy. Bondy. What else are we supposed to call what we are?"

"We have a bond but we aren't buddies."

I smiled and began to walk backward in order to see her face.

"Oh, I think you're interested in more than just the 'bond' between us," I said, winking.

She stopped and I stopped just before I collided with some poor Padawan who dropped his notes. As if recognizing me as a Master or something, he bowed and ran off, leaving me with the blustering Jedi Knight.

Her face glowed. "Please. I'm a Jedi. Such feelings, such attractions are—"

"You have feelings for me?" I said, holding a hand to my heart. "I'm sorry, but don't you think our relationship is moving a bit too quickly?"

Her face appeared comically horrified, and her cheeks grew even redder.

"That isn't...you are impossible. Truly."

I smirked and continued my journey to food. Bastila rushed alongside me. I thought I'd scared her away with that line. Honestly, I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Especially after today. The redness on her face was just about to cool off. Maybe she should have learned when to stop talking too.

"I admit I find you intriguing." I looked at her with a raised brow. She hesitated when she noticed my expression. "Uh...I mean I find your command of the Force intriguing. But my interest in you is purely academic. Surely you can understand why."

"Right. So I'm as attractive as a lab gizka. Got it."

I heard her sigh again. "That isn't—anyway. I came looking for you to ask some questions. I know very little about your past and given our relationship—"

"Relationship?" I chuckled. "Is this some kind of clumsy come-on?"

Her face began to turn red again. "I was referring to the bond we share. You know, the one the Jedi Council spoke of? If I was actually interested in a relationship with you, surely I would come up with a better attempt then this."

"Touched a nerve there, huh?"

"Touched a nerve, no. Getting on my nerves, most definitely. I suppose this is what you consider being 'witty,'" she said, rolling her eyes while huffing.

I was going to continue, but my empty stomach was beginning to detract from this game me and Bastila were playing. At least, it seemed fun to me—not sure if she was enjoying it.

When we reached the hall, the Jedi Knight continued to talk. She really liked talking today.

"Anyway, are you going to answer my questions or are you going to keep annoying me?"

I grabbed a metal tray from the top of the pile and made for the hot food while Bastila trailed behind me. Didn't she know when to have a proper discussion? Like...when your subject wasn't starved?

I dipped a spoon into some tasteless pudding and dipped it onto my tray. Delicious.

"I don't know—do you want to know my life story or something?"

She had also grabbed a tray and was now filling it with food as well.

She shook her head. "Nothing so detailed. Just things like...what planet are you from?"

"Deralia. Anything else?"

"How old are you?"

"15,657. Healthy living you know?"

She groaned.

"I'm serious."

"Thirty-two—single and ready to mingle."

She ignored that quip.

"You were a smuggler?"

I grabbed a fruit and made for the tables in the corner of the hall. The Jedi lagged behind.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, certainly a smuggler like you had a reason to become one?"

I collapsed on the benches of the table I'd selected. I inhaled deeply as I stretched the meditation sores out of my body. Despite it just appearing like I was just sitting there for a few hours, meditation really put a strain on the body. And made me hungry as hell. The Jedi made herself at home in front of me without asking to be invited

I waved a fork at her face.

"Who put you up to this interrogation?"

She stuttered. "Wha—?"

"Master Vrook? Master Zhar?"

She became nonplussed. "No one 'put me up to it.' I was just curious."

"Sure, just out of the blue you decided to ask little ol' me about my past." I shoved food into my mouth. "Well, tell the Masters to be rest assured. I didn't become a smuggler for fun. Nah, it's just what you do when you're trying to survive in the Outer Rim. And most of the time I pissed my earnings away drunk in some cantina." I hummed as I thought back to my escapades. "Actually, my life was rather...dull."

"Dull?"

I stared down at my pudding. "Maybe?" I gave a frustrated sigh. "I don't know."

Bastila watched me as I ate and didn't touch her own food.

Then after I'd eaten half of my meal, she asked, "Do you sometimes wish that things had been...different?"

I raised a brow. "Different how?"

"What if the Jedi had discovered you when you were a child?"

I snickered. "Would it have been different? Sure. I probably would have been indoctrinated into the cult easier. Is that why the Jedi take children?"

"Cult?"

I waved a hand. "Just a joke, Bondy." I pursed my lips as I actually thought about her question. "Would it have been different? Probably. But...probably not." It was hard to think about the "what-ifs." "I might have stuck to the Jedi Code like glue. Or I might have joined Revan and Malak in the Mandalorian Wars and turned Sith." And either one did not sound appealing to me. I smirked. "You done being my therapist?"

Bastila looked as if I'd said something profound though. "Would you have joined Revan?"

I sighed. "It's as I said—I have no idea. I'd have been a completely different person with different beliefs."

"You're avoiding the question. I'm saying if, right now, the Mandalorian Wars were happening—would you have followed them?"

I pushed my food tray forward while giving her a look. "I didn't want to join this Sith war. What makes you think I would have joined Revan's?" I stood and watched the Jedi with suspicion. "Tell Master Vrook that, for the hundredth time, I'm nothing like Revan. Maybe he'll believe you."

Before I could hear any more lies from her mouth, I stormed out of the mess hall, leaving her with her cold dinner.