Karma part 4

To say that every Initiate is nervous at the moment of their Exhibition would be an understatement. However, despite the nerves and although Jedi are taught that pride is dangerous, each potential Padawan beamed with it as they stood before not only the assembled Jedi Council, but a rather large group of potential Masters. "Which one will be mine?" They all thought.

"None of them," Finly answered. "No Master will choose me if I cannot even activate my lightsaber." Still, his eyes traced the faces in the room. "Master Wagalog is here!" His heart raced. Wagalog was known for his expertise in Jedi lore, particularly regarding Sith legends and stories. Beyond that, he was considered a great teacher having trained both L'Grujio and Granger. L'Grujio had a reputation as being a bit eccentric, but Granger was considered one of the most talented Jedi in the order. Imagine the adventures he and Master Wagalog would have trapsing the galaxy in search of hidden Sith, but Finly caught his excitement. He took a deep breath. A Jedi should not crave adventure. His exhale turned into a sigh when he remembered his lightsaber. Finly continued to trace the faces in the room until they landed on Voudon. Like Granger, Voudon was one of the Jedi that younglings loved to tell stories about. Yet he also would have absolutely no use for a padawan who could not turn on his lightsaber. Finly's eyes came to rest on the girl next to Voudon. It was the same girl from the day before, but today she was in a simple white dress. Her hair had been washed and combed out, but she swayed and tugged uncomfortably at her dress.

Myriam did not hate wearing dresses. She just did not like being told that she had to wear a dress. And since every dress she had ever worn, she had been required to wear for some reason or another- Neco wanted her to look nice for his friends, or Pardo wanted to impress the crowds, or some Jedi wanted her to appear civilized- she hated every dress she had ever worn. "Try not to get impatient. The show will begin soon." Voudon patted her shoulder. She tried not to flinch when he touched her. She knew that he wanted something from her, but she did not sense that she had any reason to fear him.

Before Myriam could ask any questions or offer any comments, someone seated on one of the cushions announced that the Exhibition had begun. The dozen Initiates moved as a choreographed group lifting and manoeuvring various pipes and fittings around in the air above their heads. Myriam was not sure what it all meant until they set the whole mass down in front of the seated Jedi. "For Exhibition!" the collected group chanted. Only then did the mass resemble some great tower from some part of Coruscant that Myriam had never heard of. She sniffed in mild amusement.

"Impressed?" Voudon asked.

"I can do that with my eyes closed," Myriam blew off the idea of being impressed.

Voudon grinned. "So can most of them, but the point of the exercise is to work as a group." Myriam sniffed again.

The next phase of the Exhibition was even less exciting. Each Initiate stepped forward to recite and explain a portion of the Jedi Code or a word of wisdom they had been taught in their training. When the Sullustan that Myriam met yesterday came forward, he chose a story that was new to Myriam, but sounded like an old tale. In the story, some legendary Jedi was in a fight with some evil Jedi-type. The evil fighter tried to tempt his opponent to act in anger and use hatred to win. The hero of the story lost the fight, but seemed to win some great moral victory by not giving in to hatred. Or at least that seemed to be what the Sullustan was going for. However, even some of the older observing Jedi chuckled. One commented, "This child would equate the wisdom of the Jedi with a bedtime story?"

Myriam yawned as the educational portion of the presentation began to drag. "Watch this," Voudon whispered.

All of the Initiates stood in a line facing the semi-circle of seated Jedi. The observing Masters and guests stood to the side. All of their interest took a fresh renewal at this new portion of the Exhibition. "Initiates," the older blue-skinned creature spoke. "It is now time for the favorite portion of the Exhibition: the demonstration of lightsaber skills. Initiates, set your sabers to training mode."

Finly fumbled with the hilt of his saber, mimicking his fellow Initiates. He locked eyes with Sortie for a brief moment, but could only shrug. Oldofo continued, "This year's Initiates will duel not one-on-one, but three-at-a-time."

Oldofo's announcement caused a stir among the observing Masters. At each Exhibition, the Council tried to throw in some unusual twist, which made sense, since a Jedi would rarely, if ever, have a straight on duel with another lightsaber user.

"We have randomly selected groups for sparring. In the first group we have: Initiates Finly, Jared, and Lesa. When a participant has three points scored on them, they are out. Last of the three participants will be considered the winner of their group," Oldofo finalized the instructions. "First round participants, to the center!"

Finly swallowed hard. This was the worst possible scenario he could have imagined. Jared bumped Finly hard as he passed. "Good luck."

Lesa also bumped her shoulder to his. "I'll keep him off of you as long as I can, but you are going to have to do something and quickly."

Finly merely gulped as Jared and Lesa ignited, then touched the blades of their sabers. Lesa whispered to Finly, "Kneel down like you are meditating." Jared chuckled and Finly's knees shook as he complied. Again, this created a mixed response among the observers. Some thought that the odd Initiate was making light of the demonstration. Others were impressed with his seeming maturity.

Jared was shaking with anticipation at how easy this was going to be. Lesa knew this and as she expected, when the order to begin was given, Jared went for the easy score against the defenceless Finly, which set her up for an easy score against Jared in return. Finly rolled behind Lesa who shouted, "Stay behind me and help when you can!" This was just enough distraction for Jared to score a point against Lesa.

Lesa parried a series of attacks from Jared and was preparing to back him into a corner when a Force push from behind propelled her a little too far. She stumbled off balance offering an opening for Jared to score another point. "That's not what I meant by helping," she hissed at Finly.

"Sorry!" Finly yelled back. He had meant the push for Jared, but she stepped in the way.

Myriam could not understand why the Sullustan was not using his lasersword. She heard many among the observers asking the same question. Perhaps it was some sort of ruse? Lesa was eventually able to score another point against Jared, but she realized she made a mistake as soon as she scored. She left herself open for Jared's counter and he scored the final point against her, leaving Finly to fend for himself.

With Jared's full attention now on him, Finly stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Jared took the next simple point, not allowing Finly to stand again. As Finly scurried backwards on the floor just in front of Myriam and Voudon, he raised a hand slowing the descent of Jared's next blow through the Force. "Nice try," Jared hissed as his blade continued downward despite Finly's resistance.

"Use your lasersword," Myriam mumbled.

"I can't," Finly finally admitted both to the world and himself.

Myiram huffed, extending two hands. One hand snatched Jared's lightsaber from his. The saber flipped once as it travelled through the air and landed in Myriam's grip. With her other hand, she propelled Jared backwards and to the ground with a Force push. She stepped across the fallen Sullustan and towards Jared. "Pick on someone your own size." She wielded the lasersword awkwardly, worrying more about burning herself than how to use it against the other boy. Myriam heard a light, but pleasant song as she stepped over Finly. She could not place where it came from, but it was familiar and soothing. However, the peaceful song was soon drowned out by the commotion that she had caused.

"What is the meaning of this!" Oldofo demanded. "Master Voudon, control your guest!"

Before he received the order, Voudon already had a hand on Myriam's shoulder. "That's enough. Return his lightsaber and we will leave."

"I don't know how to shut it off," Myriam whispered. Voudon gently placed his hand over hers, pressing a button with one of his fingers, then gestured for her to offer the weapon to Jared who glared angrily from the floor. Myriam grinned, tossing the hilt to him, then she flexed her shoulders in a mock attack in Jared's direction. Not knowing what to make of the odd outsider, Jared flinched before he could catch himself. His shoulders shrank when he realized what he had done. Myriam smirked in his direction as Voudon led her out of the room.

XXXXXXXXX

Myriam could not help but grin as she entered the front door of the pub. It was Master Yoda's favorite place and they had frequently come here to debrief after long missions. The barroom was fairly empty, which she expected as it was the middle of the day, but the few customers who were there eyed the Jedi suspiciously as she approached the bar. A droid bartender approached to take her order. "Whiskey and information."

"One moment please, Master Jedi," the droid dismissed itself and went through a door to the back.

A few moments later a Nikto with an annoyed look emerged from the stockroom with a glass of whiskey. "Yeah?"

Myriam produced a holo of Greian and the other children. "I am looking for these children. The oldest is probably looking for some type of work."

"What kinda work?" the bartender asked.

Myriam shrugged. "Entry level. Something a girl her age could do."

"We don't allow pimps in here anymore," the bartender was adamant.

Myriam grimaced. "I'm not sure that is the type of work she is looking for."

"Well," the Nikto scratched his neck. "We get dealers and gangsters looking for thieves and smugglers in here. If you're drinkin' a while, I can point a few out when they come in and I can keep an eye out for the girl, but that's about all I can offer."

"That will be more than helpful, Gleevton," a familiar voice from behind interrupted.

Myriam turned and smiled at the Mon Calamari, "Sortie? Is that you?"

Sortie spread his arms for a hug and Myriam complied. "What brings the Mighty Myriam back home?"

Home. Myriam shook the word from her head. "Tracking down some missing children."

"Terrible business," Sortie waved for a drink as both Jedi took stools at the bar. When his drink arrived, he lifted it in Myriam's direction. "To Finly."

Myriam nodded as they clinked glasses. "I don't remember seeing you at his funeral?"

Sortie sighed. "I was away on an expedition in the Deep Core. Didn't even hear about it until we returned about a month after." Sortie paused before adding cautiously, "Killed by Sith or so they say?"

Myriam failed to prevent her eyeroll. "He was killed by someone with connections to people who were after Sith artifacts. That's about all we know for sure."

"He would have it no other way, that's for sure," Sortie took a drink from his glass. "But if you ever find the sleemo responsible and need help bringing him in, just say the word."

"Of course," Myriam agreed also taking another sip. "How in touch are you with the underworld around here these days?"

Sortie rocked his head in thought. "Not as much as I used to be, but I still know a few good places to go hunting for information. Who exactly are you after?"

Myriam took a deep breath. "We freed some slaves, mostly children a few months back. I have been assisting in their rehabilitation process. One of the older girls ran off with some of the younger kids, yesterday. I'm trying to locate them before they get themselves into trouble."

Sortie scratched his chin. "You are trying to help someone who doesn't want to be helped? That doesn't sound very productive. And rehabilitation services do not exactly sound like your specialty." The Mon Calamari tried to grin slyly, but he could see that the comments did not land the way he had hoped.

"Yeah," Myriam downed the remainder of her drink. "I have also been rethinking exactly what my specialty should be. Anyway, the one girl is old enough to decide if she doesn't want a better life, I suppose, but she can't decide for the younger kids."

"Well," Sortie continued. "I will be happy to help in any way I can."

XXXXXXXX

"…completely and totally unacceptable," Master Oo'looku ended his beratement of Voudon who nodded robotically. He knew how big of a transgression interrupting the sacred Exhibition was, but he also knew that Myriam's interference offered the demonstration of her powers that several members of the Council needed to witness.

"Again Masters, I apologize, but surely you now see her powers and the dangers of leaving their development unsupervised," Voudon tried not to grin.

Several of the observing Masters had also remained in the room after the Council paused the Exhibition to reprimand Voudon about his rogue and her interruption. Master Wagalog spoke up, "I have spoken often of my fears of surviving Sith in the galaxy. This child is exactly the type that would attract their attention." Voudon caught Wagalog's eyes, nodding in appreciation. Voudon did not share Wagalog's conspiracy theories about surviving Sith, but both were firmly fixed against any and all elements of the Darkside taking root anywhere in the galaxy.

Oldofo nodded to Wagalog and spoke next, "I have but one question, Master Voudon. Was this your plan all along? Did you ask us to allow your guest into the Exhibition in the hopes that she would cause some disruption that the Council could not ignore?"

Voudon smirked slyly, "You all know that I am not opposed to using a little manipulation against my enemies, when necessary, but I have no enemies here, and even I would not be so bold as to disrupt a tradition as sacred as this. Besides, I had no knowledge of the bullying among the younglings or of the one who could not activate his lightsaber." A chuckle rose from some of the observing Maters.

"This brings up another point," Oo'looku spoke again. "What of this youngling Finly who entered the Exhibition under false pretences. Surely, he did not expect to fake his way through the lightsaber demonstration?"

Oldofo responded, "No youngling enters the Exhibition with all necessary skills or there would be no need for Padawan training. I would be more concerned about this Jared who knew of young Finly's lightsaber problems and used it to push himself forward. This is not in keeping with Jedi teachings."

"And can also be corrected through proper training," Oo'looku interrupted.

It was Yoda who brought the back and forth to an end with a clearing of his throat. "Fellow Masters, ruined not this day is. Resume and conclude the Initiate Exhibition we shall and finish discussing these few rogue younglings we will tomorrow." There was a light mumbling of dealing with the outrageous act that had occurred, but everyone understood the wisdom resuming the Exhibition as quickly as possible.

The doors to the Council chamber shut as the Exhibition continued. Finly, Jared, and Myriam were ordered to remain outside, Lesa chose to stay, not wishing to leave Finly alone with Jared. As soon as the door shut, Jared glared at Myriam, "You girl! Who do you think you are? If you cost me the choice of a good Master, I will…" Jared made one aggressive step forward.

Myriam who was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, leaned forward ever so slightly. "You'll do what?"

Jared's next step was hesitant, but he knew he could not back down. Fortunately, the temple guard quieted the room with a clearing of his throat.

Lesa spoke up this time, "If anyone cost you a Master, it was yourself. A Jedi does not take advantage of a defenceless being. Now the entire Council and any potential Master you may have had, have seen exactly what type of person you are, and you are absolutely right, none of them will want you."

Jared started to counter, but he knew she was right. He slumped to the floor in a corner, taking a glance a Finly. "At least my lightsaber works."

Finly turned away from his humbled bully to Myriam. He sulked over to her and leaned on the wall next to her. Myriam could hear the faint sound of the familiar song again. "Thank you for helping me in there, but you should not have interfered."

Myriam shrugged. "You're right. Someone else should have stepped in sooner. What I don't get though, is howcome you were in there with a lasersword that don't work?"

Finly's shoulders shrank even more as he unhooked the hilt from his belt, offering it to Myriam to have a look. "First of all, it's called a lightsaber."

Myriam took the smooth, black cylinder in her hand. The song in her head did not grow in volume, but somehow seemed to get stronger as she touched and examined the hilt. She pointed with saber to Jared. "Why does his have a button?"

"Most do," Lesa joined the conversation with a chuckle. "Fin just chose not to give his one."

"What good is it, if you can't turn it on?" Myriam handed the hilt back Finly, still trying to figure out what the song was.

"I am supposed to activate it through the Force, but I have not figured out how to do that, yet," Finly's head shrank even farther.

"Why does it hum?" Myriam started to form her question when the doors to the Council chamber opened.

Sortie darted out just ahead of the rest of the Initiates. "I won my round!"

Lesa shot upright. "When are the Masters announcing their decisions?"

"Tomorrow," Sortie answered. "And until then we have a free evening!"

"Let's go out to celebrate," Lesa clapped her hands together loudly.

Finly shook his head. "I don't really have anything to celebrate."

"You are being selfish. That is not the Jedi way. You'll be celebrating us," Sortie patted his friend's shoulders with a grin.

"Can Myriam come?" Finly called the group's attention to Voudon who had approached the younglings.

"If she wishes," Voudon shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" Myriam nodded.

As the group walked to the exit, Lesa turned towards Jared. "You're coming too, right?"

Jared sighed, but rose from his corner. Then his face lit up. "I know the perfect place."

Voudon watched the group leave, wondering if it was wise to let Myriam out of his sight. He was quickly joined by Wagalog. "She'll be fine with the younglings for a few hours. You and I should also catch up."

Voudon raised an eyebrow. He and Wagalog had worked together on various occasions, but were not close enough to consider him a friend that needed to be caught up with. "Certainly," was his only response.

The pair was interrupted by a gentle voice from behind them. "Join you as well, we shall, if mind, you do not." Voudon and Wagalog turned to see Yoda, Oo'looku, and Tarayzin standing behind them. "Matters to discuss, I believe the Force has for us."

XXXXXXXXXX

Greian hesitated for just a moment at the door of the tavern. She had found a cheap motel to put the younger children in and a contact who gave her a name to ask about at this place. Still, she knew that these people were likely to be dangerous even if she did convince them to give her a job. Surely the danger was worth it if there was enough money to keep her and the kids free and on their own. She did not need a bunch of religious nuts or Jedi telling her how to live. She just needed to survive and provide for her brother and the others long enough for them to be old enough to make their own choices.

It was early evening, and the barroom was still pretty empty when Greian entered. She scanned the room, her eyes quickly finding the Ithorian, Fohow Blidien. Her contact had said that if she wanted work, Fohow was the guy to know in this part of Coruscant. He sat by himself in a corner booth smoking a nargila pipe, but she was sure he had bodyguards all through the bar. In fact, everyone in the bar was probably one of his employees. She hesitated for one more second, just before clearing her throat to speak when she reached the table. "Mr. Blidien?"

A huge plume of smoke exited the Ithorian's massive nostrils in a huff. "Who're you?"

Greian cleared her throat again. "I'm a friend of Rory's. He said you were hiring?"

"Rory, uh?" Fohow grunted. "Hiring for what exactly? How old are you? What 'sperience you got?"

"I used to work with the Aton Network. Managed some…employees," Greian began.

Fohow chuckled, "Slaves, you mean. I ain't in no slavin' bidness." He took another huff from his pipe.

Greian tried not to let her voice crack or sound like she was pleading. "The sla… people that I supervised worked in sales mostly. I could do something like that."

"Sales, huh?" Fohow leaned forward to examine the young, human girl closely. "Yeah, I bet you could sell somethin'." He gestured to some of his underlings behind her.

"Yeah," Greian continued to make her pitch. "Spice or whatever, I could move…"

She was interrupted by several hands grabbing her from behind. "Yeah, or whatever," Fohow chuckled. Greian struggled against the grip of the hands who took hold of her. She felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the base of her neck, then her world became misty and her body was very relaxed. "Take her and break her in real good, boys." Fohow ordered his men.

XXXXXXXXX

"So who's this…Rory, is it?" Myriam asked as she and Sortie entered yet another bar.

"He's a…recruiter, I guess, for Fohow," Sortie offered as an answer. His eyes caught Myriam's and he could see that name also meant nothing. "and Fohow is sort of a mid-level manager for Zorba." He saw it in her face. There was a name that Myriam recognized. "And that," Sortie gestured with his chin to a stool at the bar, "is Rory."

The two Jedi took the stools on either side of Rory. Rory nonchalantly took a sip from his drink and turned to Sortie. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Jedi?"

Sortie pointed in Myriam's direction, who held up the holo. Rory sighed. "Ah, Greian."

"You know her?" Myriam raised an eyebrow, surprised at the criminal's quick response.

"I met her just yesterday," Rory continued to be forthcoming.

"And what was the nature of your meeting?" Sortie inquired.

"She was looking for work. I sent her to a guy I know," Rory offered.

"Fohow?" Myriam clarified. Rory shrugged in a way that told them they were right, but he would not verbally confirm. "You will take us to him, then." Myriam made her offer.

"Now see," Rory countered. "I am happy to oblige you Jedi as a faithful citizen of the galaxy, but I can't be known to be obliging you Jedi."

Sortie smiled. "Telling us where to find him will suffice…and keep you from getting yourself arrested."

Rory asked to bartender for a writing utensil. He jotted down the name of a bar on a napkin, folded it, and slid it to Sortie. "Don't tell him I sent you."

When they reached the Fohow's bar, it was just beginning to get crowded. Myriam made a move as though she would head straight to Fohow, but Sortie caught her arm. "Rory can be a valuable contact for me. We need a reason to approach Fohow without tipping our hats."

Myriam nodded towards the Ugnaught bartender, and the pair approached the bar. Myriam held up the holo to the bartender. They could tell that he recognized the image. Without speaking, his eyes darted nervously between the two Jedi. Finally, his eyes rested on a booth in the corner, where the Ithorian still sat puffing his pipe. The Jedi nodded in appreciation and turned to approach the booth. Myriam tossed the holo disc to Sortie. "Maybe you should do the talking."

At the booth, Sortie sat at the chair on the outside and Myriam slid into the booth next to Fohow, who simply asked, "What can I do for the Jedi today."

Sortie smiled as he activated the holo. "We have it on good authority that you know where to find this child."

"I ain't runnin' no daycare 'round here. What do I know about a missing child?" Fohow blew off the question. His next comments were cut off by the blue blade of Myriam's lightsaber extending just in front of his neck. Almost simultaneously, most of the customers of the bar, who, coincidently, were Fohow's employees, drew their blasters and pointed them at the occupants of the booth. Sortie shot from his seat, extending his own blue blade, turned to face the mass of blasters and held his saber at the ready.

Neither Fohow nor Myriam seemed phased by either development. Fohow chuckled. "This is not the first time someone has held a blade to my neck. Now why don't you be good Jedi and run along."

Myriam's eyes narrowed. "Yours is not the first neck that I have held this lightsaber to. Yours will not be the first head I have severed. Now, give us the girl."

"My men will cut you down, the second I am dead. Your friend can't block all of their blasts." Fohow fired back.

"He'll block enough to give me time to block the rest, but here's the thing, as soon as you're dead, only your most loyal people will still follow your orders. The rest won't care, because you will not be able to pay them." As Myriam spoke, Sortie's eyes studied Fohow's men. He could see that her words were landing with several of them. Myriam shrugged before she concluded. "Either way, you'll be dead."

Fohow studied Myriam's face. He could tell that she was not bluffing. Although, he was not afraid to die, he saw no reason to do it today. "Fine. Lower your weapons, boys."

"No," Myriam cut him off. "Tell them to drop them." Fohow complied. His order was followed by the sound of several blasters hitting the floor of the barroom. Myriam did not turn her eyes from Fohow's. "All of them." Several more blasters hit the floor. Myriam squinted at her prey. "He still has one."

"Who?" Fohow was sincerely confused.

"Him," Myriam answered. One of Fohow's men, a Rodian, began to gag and clutch at his throat. As quickly as he could, he pulled a small blaster from his boot and tossed it to the floor. Only then was he able to catch his breath. "Thank you. And now, you will lead all of us to the girl. Your men will follow you and me. My associate will follow them."

Fohow led the whole group to an alleyway just a few blocks from the bar. There he knocked on a reinforced door, it was opened by another Rodian guard who immediately drew his blaster on seeing Myriam. Through the Force, Myriam snatched the blaster from the guard and turned it in his direction. It hung in the air inches from his face, aimed right between his eyes. "Everyone, throw down your weapons," Fohow called out into the dark hallway. Then he addressed the guard. "Show us where the new girl is."

The Rodian led the group to a room at the end of the hall. He punched in the door code revealing a mattress on the floor of a sparsely furnished room. Greian lay on the mattress semi-conscious. Her clothes were torn, she did not appear to be badly beaten, but was bruised from rough handling. Myriam felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. A hatred that she did not even know she was capable of feeling welled within her. She turned, raising her lightsaber at the guard and Fohow who rolled his eyes. "Yes, I already know, I'm under arrest."

"No," Myriam growled through gritted teeth.

Sortie, sensing what was happening inside his old friend, extinguished his lightsaber and Force Dashed between Myriam's blade and the guard. "Myriam, don't."

"You see what they are," Myriam stated flatly. "I will make sure they never do this to anyone else."

"I feel the Darkside clawing at your heart. This is not our way. We will arrest them, and the proper authorities will sort this out," Sortie pleaded.

"And they will be out within weeks and back at it again," Myriam countered.

Sortie sighed and held up his hands. "That may be, but at least now, we know they are here and who to look for. And you will still be a Jedi."

Myriam adjusted the grip on her lightsaber hilt. She knew Sortie was right. She also knew that she would be perfectly justified if she ended Fohow and his crew right there in the hallway. Did she still want to be a Jedi? Fohow worked for Zorba. And the Jedi had just knowingly and willingly eliminated one of Zorba's largest competitors in the sex-trade business. She thought about Neco. She thought of Evelyn. The anger surged once again within her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The humming song from the crystal within her lightsaber filled her heart. She had grown accustomed to its sound through the years and she wondered how it might be affected if she used it to cut down these slavers in anger. She wondered how such action would change the song within the crystal and within herself. And yet, she tightened the grip on her saber. Then she thought of Master Yoda. Only then, did she open her eyes and close her lightsaber. "Fine. You are all under arrest."

XXXXXXXXX

The younglings enjoyed a hearty meal at a run-down diner that Sortie frequented whenever he had the chance. Myriam belched as they exited. "I still don't know what that was, but it delicious."

The other younglings laughed at her lack of manners. "Where are you from, again?" Lesa asked.

"The Outer Rim," was all that Myriam offered and hoped there would be no further questions about her origin.

"All right," Jared took over the conversation. "Who is ready to head down a few levels?"

"Down?" Finly tried not to gulp. "I don't think we should..."

Jared shrugged. "What are you afraid of? No place is so rough that a group of Jedi can't handle it. One of the kids a couple of years ahead of us, Hannibal, told me about this pub that doesn't check ID's."

"We're not even adolescents," Lesa argued. "They are not going to let us in."

Myriam spoke up, "Actually, there are plenty of places in the galaxy that won't even notice a bunch of kids coming in. I just didn't think those places were on Coruscant.

"I'm pretty sure the lower levels are some of the worst places in the galaxy," Sortie offered.

"Could be fun," Myriam shrugged. Part of her was just excited to go site-seeing in the capital city. She never dreamed that she would actually get to see it. And she had heard of the notorious lower levels. She also knew that many of these places were run by the Black Sun or even worse. This partly excited her as well. The stuffy Jedi did not seem too interested in what she could do. Perhaps the Black Sun would find her useful?

Not far from the diner, the five Jedi Masters crowded into a corner booth in the pub that Yoda had chosen. Oo'looku and Tarayzin were decidedly uncomfortable. Voudon and Wagalog had been in hundreds of places like this, but both were surprised that Yoda knew of such an establishment. "Good whiskey, they have," was Yoda's argument.

Wagalog asked Voudon about the Sentinels. Wagalog spent most of his time in the Outer Rim and crossed paths with the occasional Sentinel. Tarayzin and Yoda shared their concerns about the continued existence of the Sentinel program within the Jedi Order. The Jedi were meant to be a symbol of hope throughout the galaxy, not hidden in the shadows like most of the Sentinels.

"Dangers lurk in the shadows," Voudon responded. "I would argue that it is our responsibility to be where the danger is."

Oo'looku spoke next. "And you believe that someone with first-hand experience in these regions would make the ideal Sentinel. Hence your arrangement for the girl's demonstration."

Voudon raised a hand and forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Master, I would like to reassure you…again… I in no way coordinated today's disruptions, but it does seem that the Force willed it."

"Speaking of which," Wagalog placed a hand on Voudon's shoulder and nodded towards the front of the barroom. The awkward group of younglings entered cautiously.

"This is no place for younglings," Oo'looku began to rise from his seat, but his arm was caught by Yoda's small hand.

"Observe for now, we shall."

The group of younglings waded through the crowd to the bar. The droid bartender, as predicted, did not even acknowledge their age, but asked for their orders. "Whiskey," Myriam answered. When no response came from the others, she added. "Five shots." Surprisingly, Sortie was the only youngling who seemed be able to handle the shot as well as Myriam. Lesa's face soured with half, and she shook her head at the idea of finishing it. Finly entered an uncontrollable coughing fit while Jared turned green and tried to hide his gagging. Myriam laughed, "I thought you Jedi could handle anything?" She motioned for the droid to bring two more shots.

As they continued to drink, Lesa and Jared switched to sweeter cocktails and Finly ordered caf, Myriam observed her surroundings. She saw deals being made in corners. She knew there was money to be made in places like this and somehow the idea of a new criminal life called to her. However, she saw at least two of the corners contained pimps and their collection of girls for hire. She knew that these girls had not willingly chosen this life, but that they also knew no other way. And here it was all happening just a few hundred meters below the Jedi Temple, the very people who claimed to protect the innocent from these sorts of activities. She thought of the girls who had passed through the Network. And for the first time in a long time, she thought of Evelyn. She brushed the medallion under her jacket as a shudder climbed up her spine. She could also tell that she was being watched. "I need the toilet." Myriam hopped from the stool and walked to the back corridor.

"What a weird kid," Sortie mumbled as Myriam left. "Knows her whiskey though."

Finly defended their new friend. "We have been in the Jedi Temple since we were infants. If anything, we are the weirdos."

"You are definitely a weirdo. Here," Sortie attempted to pour his remaining whiskey in Finly's cup, "goes good with caf."

The mere smell of the whiskey violently repelled Finly. He jerked away hitting someone behind him and spilling the remaining caf and whiskey on the person. "Hey, you little mole!" Finly righted himself and looked up into possibly the biggest creature he had ever encountered.

From their dark, corner booth, it was Voudon who nearly shot from his seat, but was also caught by Yoda's voice. "Allow them to carry this, we shall, until right the time is."

In the washroom, Myriam washed her face in the sink and stared deep into the reflection of her own eyes in the mirror. Maybe there was a new life for her on Coruscant, if the Jedi would not have her someone would. At least now she knew that she was powerful enough to decide her own terms. She left the washroom and eyed the side exit. She could make a clean break for it now, find some place to crash for a few nights, and figure out some way to make money while she made a new name for herself. She eyed the exit which seemed to call to her, but she also heard the song that she heard in the Jedi Temple. The song was not loud, but strong and clear and called her towards its source. It was then that she noticed a commotion at the bar.

"He didn't mean it," Sortie grabbed the creature's arm as he grabbed Finly by the neck.

"These are me best clothes," the creature growled "and you'll be payin' fer it one way or t'other."

"We don't have much money," Finly managed to cough despite the creature's grip.

A nearby friend of the attacker, grabbed Sortie by the shoulders, noticed the lightsaber at his belt and snatched it away. "What's this? Fancy yerself a Jedi, do ya lad? If this thing works, it should cover your new outfit."

Lesa and Jared hopped down from their barstools reaching for their lightsabers, but two other creatures grabbed the youngling's wrists and scooped up their sabers as well. "Yeah, the first creature continued to choke Finly, those will do nicely."

Tears began to form in the corners of Finly's eyes. He tried to plea with the creature again, but could form no words. When all hope seemed to slip away, he felt his own lightsaber lift from his belt. A blue glow sprung from the hilt, severing the arm of Finly's attacker, dropping him and the creature's forearm to the floor, The blue lightsaber spun through the air into the hands of an equally surprised Myriam who straightened her stance, attempting not to seem as awkward as she felt. "Leave my friends alone."

The creature clutched the stub of his arm. "What the frosh! Blast her!" He screamed in agony at his friends who tossed the captive younglings aside, pulling their blasters.

Myriam closed her eyes, trying to imagine what piercing blaster bolts felt like. She heard the igniting of lightsaber blades behind her. "Drop your weapons and leave this place now." Voudon ordered as he, Wagalog, Oo'looku, and Tarayzin stood resolutely behind Myriam bathed in a mix of green and blue lights. From the dark corner booth. Yoda could not help, but allow a slight chuckle as he stroked his chin in contemplation and downed the last of his drink.

The next day, the Council chamber bustled with excitement as various Masters stepped forward to claim their new Padawans. Prior to the announcements, the Council issued a general warning to all Initiates about exploring the lower levels of the planet without supervision and underaged consumption of alcoholic beverages, but no specific reprimands were issued.

One by one the newly minted Padawans left the camber with their new masters. Eventually, only Finly and Jared were left with Voudon and Myriam. Finly's shoulders shrank. He knew what was coming, but fortunately, the Council turned their attention to Jared first. "Youngling Jared," Master Oldofo began, "Due to your attitude and treatment towards one of your fellow Initiates, the Council has decided that you will repeat at least one year of Youngling training. Perhaps you will have a better understanding of proper Jedi conduct when the next cohort is ready for their Exhibition." Jared hung his head. He wanted to object, but he knew that arguing with the Council would be even further proof that he was not ready to be a Padawan. "You are dismissed."

Finly gulped as Jared sulked out of the room. "Youngling Finly," Oldofo continued. "Constructing a lightsaber is the last stage of Youngling training before entering the Initiate Exhibition. If you were having problems with yours, why did you not ask for assistance?"

"I…" Finly cleared his throat. "Huyang said that I would be able to activate it through the Force when the time was right."

"Can you activate it now?" Oldofo leaned forward.

Finly unhooked the hilt from his belt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reached out through the Force to the crystal within the hilt, begging it to activate, but nothing happened. Finly's eyes popped open. He shook the hilt in his hands. "Work, damn you…"

Several members of the Council rolled their eyes. Oldofo raised his hand. "That will be all Youngling Finly. You will also rejoin Youngling training until the next cohort goes to Ilum. Perhaps then you can construct a lightsaber that works. And now fellow Masters, I suggest we recess until…"

"Wait," Voudon interrupted. "Finly give your lightsaber to Myriam." Finly complied. As soon as Myriam took the hilt, the familiar song filled her mind. Voudon patted her shoulders. "Just do it." Myriam closed her eyes and listened to the hum of the song. The lightsaber sprung to life with its blue glow, just as it had in the bar the night before. Myriam rolled the song around in her mind, turning the blade on and off several times.

"Young Myriam," Yoda scratched his chin as he formed his question. "How did you do this?"

"I don't really know," Myriam deactivated the saber. "I just kinda knew that it needed to be done. It's like I can hear this song…"

"The song from the crystal within the hilt," Tarayzin nodded in understanding. "It would not have made its way here today, had Youngling Finly not found it on Ilum. I suggest that this is all the will of the Force."

"I would like the Council to discuss this matter further," Oldofo nodded.

"What more is to be discussed? You have all seen her powers. Why should we delay?" Voudon tried not to plead.

Oldofo countered, "She is technically too old to begin training. Yes, exceptions can be made and we realize you are eager to have her as a Padawan, but we must make every effort to act wisely in this matter…"

Again, Yoda calmed the room by clearing his throat. "Agree with Master Voudon, I do. No need for further discussion there is. Take young Myriam as my padawan learner, I will."

Voudon's mouth dropped as Oldofo deferred to the rest of the Council who nodded in agreement. This was not the outcome that Voudon hoped for, but no one would challenge Yoda in the Council chamber.

Finly also could not believe his ears. "Wow Yoda," was all he could get out as he tried to congratulate Myriam.

"Is that good?" Myriam tried to hide her confusion at what had just happened.

Before Finly could answer, the main Council doors opened. An awkward Quarren entered the chamber. "Good…uh… afternoon Masters. I apologize for my tardiness and my intrusion."

"No worries, Jedi L'Grujio. To what do we owe this pleasure?" Oldofo greeted the eccentric Jedi Knight.

"Master Wagalog reached out to me. He seemed to think there was a youngling who would be a good fit as my Padawan. A… Finly, I believe is his name?" L'Grujio tried not to let his voice crack.

Finly's spirits lifted and his spine straightened as Oldofo deferred again to the Council. There were some chuckles, but no objections. "Very well. You and Master Yoda will take your new Padawans to Ilum. Finly needs a new lightsaber and Myriam needs to learn how to construct one. May the Force be with you all."

XXXXXXXXXX

Greian's eyes slowly opened. She stared for a few seconds at the white ceiling as she tried to figure out her surroundings. He body was not in total agony, but it did hurt with a familiar pain that she had hoped she would never feel again. She also had a headache and her brain seemed cloudy. "You are in the infirmary in the Jedi Temple," a familiar voice chimed in as she slowly sat up in the bed. Greian turned to see Myriam rising from a chair next to the bed.

Greian shot up in the bed. "Brien and the kids…"

"We found them. They are back at the Monastery. You can join them if you wish. Or you can go back out on your own. The choice is yours, but please stay here a few more days to recover. You were heavily dosed with spice and you were…" Myriam could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

"Raped," Greian finished it for her. Myriam slowly nodded. "A lot," Greian added. Myriam nodded again. "Greian sighed. "I ain't stayin' in no monastery, but Brien and the others should stay there for now."

"What will you do?" Myriam asked. Greian shrugged. Myriam made an offer. "My friend, Sortie, he knows the owner of a diner. He says he will hire you as a waitress and let you sleep in the back room for a few weeks, until you save up some money. Surely, you can see that the streets are not safe."

"Streets is all I know," Greian seemed resigned. "But the job sounds like a good starting place."

Myriam nodded in relief. She started to turn to the door, then paused, kneeling to remove a small vibroblade from her boot. She stood again offering it to Greian. "I picked this up during my early years out on my own. Keep it close, you may need it."

Greian examined the blade and its hilt. "Is this dried blood?"

Myriam grinned. "Never pull a weapon if you are not ready to use it."

Myriam turned to leave again. Opening the door, she waved, and Brien burst through followed by Sister Humindol and Sortie. "Greian!" her brother shouted with joy. Sister Humindol grabbed him to prevent him from jumping in the bed.

Myriam turned to Sortie. "She'll take the job."

Sortie nodded. "I'll look after her as best I can. Are you hanging around for a while?"

"Nah," was Myriam's only reply.