GEN Presents:

Lair of the Sith Witch

by Patricia Spillane Smith and Carsten Jensen

About sixteen months have passed since the adventure that led Adrian Mellbergh and his colleague and former master, Patrice, to Ja'rel in search of the runaways Wil Hedegaard and Gantor. Now teaching at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Adrian is content to enjoy the present, though mindful that the future cannot be postponed indefinitely.

The same cannot be said of Patrice. Her idealism has not lost its fire; if anything, it has increased in fervor since training Adrian and studying the esoteric ways of the Shamunai of Ja'rel. Her awareness of the Force as a conscious living entity, having a will of its own has led her to make ever-bolder statements which have, in turn, brought her into increased conflict with conservative elements inside and out of the Jedi Order.

Meanwhile, Carsten Hedegaard is still at large, evading a galaxy-wide manhunt, as well as several system-wide dragnets. Despite generous bounties placed on his head, the largest placed by Prime Minister Krako of Ja'rel, there have been no verifiable reports of sightings of him in any known system. His brother, Wil Hedegaard, still harbors hopes that someday he and his wayward brother will be reunited.


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'This would be easy money,' Rustus Grymn thought, as he tucked the small box under his arm, and walked cautiously down the ramp of his ship. He was not used to landing in this part of Coruscant. It was too far away from the main strips, and not enough guidance for his instruments. However, the money was good, and that was what he needed right now. He'd had the extreme misfortune to stray into Hutt space and there had incurred a number of hits to his poor little ship, a nice YT 3000 he called The Dare. His hyperdrive motivator had been damaged, and though he had managed to repair it enough to make it to Coruscant, it really needed the careful eye and tools of an expert. This payoff would provide that - and then some.

Slowly Grymn neared the huddle of hangars he knew as Cratton Base Coruscant. Interestingly enough, the collection of hangars was atop a giant landing pad suspended among several skyscrapers, the ground level of Cratton having been abandoned millennia ago, like everything else on Coruscant. Grymn grinned at this thought, as he walked slowly towards where he was to meet up with his buyer.

Seeing no one waiting for him, he looked around on the platform, wondering for a moment if he had been stood up. He cursed himself for having been so naïve. Normally he never ventured out alone to deliver anything when he was expecting such an exorbitant price at delivery.

"Grymn!?" He heard his name spoken evenly by a thin, haunting voice. Whirling around nervously, he glimpsed a ghoulish black-hooded figure slipping out from a nearby hangar to meet him.

"You have the merchandise?" the figure spoke in sepulchral tones as it glided aside him.

His mind now eerie emptiness, Grymn held the package out, smiling at his contact. The figure took the package with one delicate hand. Its other came up from under its murky robes. Before Grymn could manage to make a sound, he felt his throat constrict, closing completely.

The figure swished its hand away, as the limp body of Rustus Grymn flew over the edge of the landing platform, disappearing soundlessly in the depths below. The cloaked apparition turned, drifting slowly back into the spectral shadows of the hangar.


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"I will not lead my people into a conflict that we have not sought and cannot possibly win. We must seek an alternative... "

"Your majesty, it is unavoidable. There ARE no alternatives. We must prepare for war."

"There are always alternatives to fighting."

"I will not sit idly by while you and your allies in this government destroy my people."

"Oh, but your Majesty, the war has begun, whether you consent or not."

Adrian startled, hitting his head on the wall next to his bed. The bedclothes were strewn about in complete disarray and soaked with his stale, chilled sweat. Stretching gingerly, he touched his feet to the stone floor, stood, and walked over to his window, and peered out. The Coruscant sky, pale rose with first dawn, indicated meditation for all Jedi at the Temple. Running his fingers through his thick honey blonde hair, he blinked a couple of times, attempting to remember the nightmare daybreak had just interrupted. Though no clue came to memory, a sense of augury persisted about his thoughts.

Shaking his head, puzzled, he lowered himself gracefully to the floor into his meditation position, and remained there motionless until the chimes of his wall chronometer indicated time to head to class. If something had occurred to him during the sleeping hours, it was lost to him, at least for the time being.


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"Master, the signal has been given," the lackey panted, hurrying to kneel in submission to the master.

"Excellent," the standing figure said, continuing to stare at a large holo-map that dominated the large, dimly lit room. The map, created by several recessed projectors mounted unobtrusively in the room's ceiling, showed a collage of the major sectors of the galaxy. The projectors - capable of rendering a 3-dimensional holographic representation of any location where hidden probes transmitted live data on the necessary scale - remained out of sight, thus avoiding undesired shadows.

"This is the moment we have been waiting for all these years," the minion continued, rising, "to show our might in every aspect."

"I just want the seer," the tall figure said impassively. "Our other... 'objectives' ... can wait."

"As you wish," came the muted reply of the reprimanded toady, as the master continued to study the holo-map. The servant moved to leave the room, then hesitated. Turning back to the master, she asked, "But... what of the Jedi?"

Switching the holo-map to 'standby', the master replied sharply, "What of them? Ignore them if possible; kill them if necessary. Now, stop bothering me with foolish queries or you will learn what happens to those who annoy their betters."

The servant, possessed with a fear that had come seemingly from nowhere, sped from the room, robes askew, hands aflutter. The master, now alone with her apprentice, reactivated the holo-map, and resumed her silent analysis.

"I know what you are thinking, Lady Isis," the master whispered. "An all-out assault on the Jedi Order, at this time, would accomplish nothing and would put our very existence in jeopardy. Now that isn't quite what we want, is it?"

"No, Master," came the silky reply from the shadows of the room.


********************************


"We don't want war," the Elmasian senator exclaimed, his tiny, hand-like claw grasping the edge of his lectern. "Not over such a triviality." His plumage ruffled a furious red, interspersed with blue and green streaks as he spoke, his red, beady eyes trimmed on his opponents, the Vryjyk, seated on the other side of the vast Senate arena. Pulling on the silky blue ceremonial sash he normally wore for religious ceremonies, he switched rapidly, agitatedly from one thin leg to another, awaiting a response.

The Vryjyk representatives responded to the Elmasian protest with loud clicking noises. This appeared to indicate mirth at the pique of the Elmasian delegation; one of the Vryjyk representatives laughed outright, turning his horny-skinned face toward the brightly plumaged Elmasian senator.

"Your statement is most amusing. Your people have been spying on us since the day the Yuuzhan Vong left our sector. You levy ridiculous tariffs on any who dare venture into the part of the Second New Trade Route which crosses your system, and prosecute anyone you can for the most minor infractions of your religious laws as well as the others," he chuckled grimly, tapping on a knobby knee with one of his abdominal arms.

The Vryjyk, a six-armed, bi-pedal arachnoid species, found their ferocious appearance, cartilaginous skin coupled with heavy exoskeletons, intimidated many smaller species, such as the avian Elmasians. Their unrestricted free-market economy coupled with an oligarchic government dominated by Vryj Major's warlords contrasted starkly with the religious theocracy of the Elmasian Hegemony. Ruled by a congress of priests and Snocaeds appointed over each system, the Elmasian government had bankrupted its treasury despite high taxation of the populace, and had turned to tariffs on trade with other systems in order to continue to finance rebuilding of their worlds.

For some time, the Elmasian Hegemony had been locked in a fierce battle with the Combined Vryj System over which of them had governing rights over the Elrood Sector's end of the Second New Trade Route. Neither side was willing to make concessions in Senate negotiations. Consequently, they were further than ever from reaching a settlement and the situation threatened to get worse. The entire Elrood System had been in an uproar for some time over the issue, but within the past week, riots had erupted simultaneously in major cities throughout the systems on that end of the Trade Route.

"It seems that these are the very same arguments that were presented earlier today... " the Wookiee senator from Kashyyk began, his rough grunts translated to perfectly modulated Basic by the Senate Arena comm-link's auto-linguistic program. Translations were simulcast along with visuals of the Senate proceedings, keeping the Senate running on time, and at an even pace, despite the myriad thousands of worlds represented there.

"And yesterday... " another voice spoke, its rough, Mon Calamarian Basic needing translation.

Pressing on, the Elmasian senator screeched angrily, his retorts ringing over the howls of various species, "We!? We! YOU are the ones who dominate all trade in and out of the sector! Why, if not for the intervention here in the Senate, the Vryj would take over the entire sector!" The Senate erupted in cacophony, before a forceful, yet feminine voice overcame the uproar.

"This arguing is a waste of time; both parties continue to be completely unwilling to compromise." N'brey Hyan of Naboo commanded the floor, her elegant hands gesticulating gracefully over her podium. The Elmasian and Vryjyk Senators turned toward her, appearing especially interested in the holo-linguist's translations of her words and gestures that were being displayed atop the fronts of their respective pods.

"These petty squabbles that delay a settlement continue while both your peoples suffer from hunger, inadequate housing and poor sanitation in many areas. I move we insist upon a binding arbitration in lieu of a settlement. Both sides will be bound by whatever their representatives agree upon, contingent on approval of the arbitrating panel. Do I have a second for my motion?" Chaos engulfed the Senate once more.

It seemed years to Patrice since she had left the Jedi temple for ambassadorial duty with the Senate. Though it had only been three nights earlier that Master Bress had called Patrice, Rhyss and Adrian into his private chamber, it seemed much longer. Between arguments with Rhyss, and listening to the Elmasian and Vryjyk ambassadors and representatives' endless quibbling, she found herself missing the quieter environs of the Jedi Temple. Patrice's attention was drawn back to the proceedings by another voice, a rough, chalky voice, whose unique timbre caught everyone's attention.

"I second the motion of the Senator of Naboo," the voice intoned. All eyes were on the representatives of the Ja'rel system, newest member of the New Republic. It was the Shamunai Senator who had spoken. His greenish blue body vibrating slowly from side to side, his yellow reptilian eyes radiating a harsh yellow light, he continued, "I further move we request the Jedi to send representatives to the arbitrating panel. They will be impartial."

The Vryjyk senator who had spoken earlier could not contain his indignation. He rattled his forelegs loudly, directing his ire towards the Shamunai pod; concurrently, the bright plumage of the Elmasian senator and his entourage had taken on noxious hues of ochre and chartreuse, mingled with salmon, indicating their outrage at this suggestion. The clamor that ensued in the Senate arena echoed off the domed roof and the corrugated walls, making the vast amphitheater seem even larger.

"Order, order," Breged Praenth, the Premiere of the New Republic, cried out above the bedlam. A crrrrrrrrack! was heard, as she slammed her gavel down hard, splitting the mortar in two. The Senate finally shocked into silence, with only the urgent lights of Praenth's console to continue blinking its arguments, the premiere intoned, "I recognize the chief ambassador of the Jedi Order."

Rhyss stood at his podium, smoothing his thick brown hair and bristly, salt-and-pepper beard, preparing to speak. This ought to be good, Patrice thought. He glanced around at the rest of the Senate, then began.

"Your excellencies, honorable senators and representatives from the Elmasian Hegemony and the Combined Vryj System, and other members of the New Republic Senate: this conflict between the Elmasian Hegemony and the Combined Vryj System is delaying progress in an entire sector of the Galaxy. In the years since the Yuuzhan Vong were neutralized, much has been done to repair the destruction wrought by them. Do not return to internecine rivalries; together we can achieve much towards bringing a full, prosperous life for all.

It is to this end that we ask the representatives of the Elmasian Hegemony and the Combined Vryj Systems to settle this matter by submitting to binding arbitration. The mediation will be conducted by a panel of arbiters consisting of one representative each from the Elmasian Hegemony, the Combined Vryj System, other leading worlds of the sector and other impartial parties," Rhyss's eloquence was unmatched in the Senate. Even the Vryjyk and Elmasian senators, skeptics that they were, appeared ready to consider the solution.

"Helping the peoples of the galaxy to live together in peace is our greatest goal. Though we prefer to limit our participation to observation of the arbitration board, we are willing to serve in a greater capacity if we are needed. The Jedi are willing to broker this arbitration alone, if we must." Rhyss gave a curt nod, and sat down beside Patrice. The entire Senate, shocked at the obvious implications of the Jedi master's last statement, sat in stony silence.

Patrice turned a harsh glare on Rhyss. "What do you mean, "The Jedi are willing to broker this arbitration alone, if we must"? Are you mad? You do NOT have the Council's authorization on this matter!" she hissed at him as the Senate returned to what passed for a normal noise level.

"Oh, but I assure you, I do have authorization," Rhyss answered her in his most supercilious tone.

"It is NOT our job to govern the New Republic! Systems elect senators and representatives to do that! It is our job to simply ensure that both sides are heard and treated fairly, not to do the actual brokering of arbitration!" Patrice refused to back down. "This could tie up fifteen to twenty Jedi for months, perhaps even a year or longer! With the recent influx of new students, the most experienced Jedi are needed at the Academy and at the Temple. We cannot spare people to do nothing but nursemaid badly behaved children!"

"The intention is not to tell these people what to do," Rhyss whispered harshly, "but to lay down some guidelines for them to learn self-determination by peaceful means. Besides, you should enjoy the time away from Coruscant. Who knows - maybe you will find an opportunity to encounter and entertain your Admiral friend again. You don't seem to mind that sort of fringe benefit from your travels."

Patrice snorted scornfully in Rhyss's direction, "At least I doubt I will find the time to kill anyone."

Ignoring Patrice's obvious reference, Rhyss rose and headed eagerly toward several Senators and the Premiere, unconcerned with his own attempts at deception in her last mission. Brimming over with suggestions for the arbitration panel, he was smiling and backslapping, his jocular manner was a public face for the masses.

Patrice sighed, relieved the proceedings had taken a short break. Hungry, she headed out towards the cafeteria when she felt someone tug her sleeve.

"Master Jedi?" Patrice turned around. It was N'brey Hyan of Naboo. Still as beautiful and elegant as ever, it was rumored her politically advantageous marriage to Naboo's former king had aided greatly in getting her appointed Senator from Naboo. For her part, Patrice was simply grateful such beings as Hyan did not often possess Force abilities; she shuddered to think of the Sith at work again in the galaxy.

"Senator N'brey Hyan, it is a pleasure to see you again," Patrice greeted N'brey Hyan of Naboo. Sensing no guile, Patrice still proceeded cautiously, recalling at least one broken heart the Senator had left behind the last time they had met.

"I hope you are well these days, your grace. I still think of you and your companion, Adrian," Hyan spoke pleasantly enough. "I hope you are both well and happy?"

"I am grateful to see you are well, Madam Senator," Patrice addressed Senator N'brey formally. "Adrian and I both now teach at the Jedi temple." Patrice could sense in the Force some need in the Senator. What could she possibly want?

Hyan glanced around, her eyes darting back and fro, before she finally relaxed a bit, took the reluctant Jedi's arm, and led her away from the crowd of senators and hangers-on, towards an empty space to the side of several empty Senatorial pods.

"Things are going well for Naboo since I saw you last. Both New Trade Routes are flourishing; we are considering creating a third. Theed has expanded shopping and trade, the lake country has reopened the Padmé Amidala resort and memorial center, and the Gungans are building at an astounding rate both in their new city and in the planned addition to Otoh Gungah. Tourists are pouring in from all over the Galaxy. We shall be able to contribute at least ten billion credits toward the Yuuzhan Vong rebuilding fund this standard year," Hyan beamed with obvious pride at the accomplishments of her home world and her implied hand in them.

Smiling, Patrice attempted to extricate herself from the Senator's grasp. "I am gratified to hear of these accomplishments. However, the Jedi Council... "

Hyan interrupted Patrice, her voice now an urgent whisper. "I really wanted to ask you... well, not a favor but... something not only I, but some others here wish as well. We were hoping you would head up the Jedi delegation that arbitrates the settlement. This problem is causing incredible delays on receipt of revenues from the Second New Trade Route. Mid-Rim Systems rely on the income to rebuild not only their own systems but others in the galaxy as well. You have the skills... and... the tact." The implication here was unmistakable.

Patrice smiled wryly. "I will see what I can do," she answered noncommittally. "I suggest you contact the Jedi Council in the meantime, since they determine assignment of personnel to all missions." Since his re-establishment of the Jedi Council, Luke Skywalker had insisted on Jedi cooperation with the senate, yet had maintained a discreet distance from policymaking efforts, thus keeping the inner workings of the Jedi Order out of the hands of the politicians. His one mistake, of allowing non-Jedi to sit on the Jedi Council, had been rectified quickly before those poised to destroy the order had been able to succeed. Patrice could see how the interference of Old Republic politicians in the Order before the fall had compromised the Jedi's efficiency and crippled them to the point that they had been rendered completely helpless. It certainly did not surprise her that such a cumbersome operation had been unable to detect a Sith Lord in their very midst.

"I am loath to speak to the Council; I would not want to appear as interfering in Jedi business," Hyan demurred.

'Interfering in Jedi business is exactly what you are doing,' Patrice thought to herself acidly. "I must be returning to the Senate floor, Senator. Good evening." Abruptly freeing her arm from the Naboo senator, Patrice walked away quickly. N'brey Hyan looked after her, her expression clouded.

Rhyss cornered Patrice as she entered the main Senate arena. "Where were you off to?" he asked in his usual brusque manner.

Annoyed, Patrice snapped, "I was just accosted by my first Senator attempting to influence the outcome of your arbitration panel, Rhyss. Look, I'm hungry; you must be too. Shall I get us something to eat before we continue this farce?"

Ignoring her barb, Rhyss responded, "Not necessary. While you were away, Praenth decided to informally close the session," Rhyss said, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown. "I'm meeting with her tonight to draw up a preliminary list of items for the arbitration agenda. We will be lucky if the Elmasian and Vryjyk senators agree with any of them. Since you will be part of the panel that will be sent to the Elrood Sector, you will need all of this evening and tomorrow to bring together the team and brief them on their duties. We will be leaving for the Elrood sector in two days, maybe less," Rhyss turned on his heel and stalked towards the Premiere's office.

Accepting dismissal, Patrice hurried out the main doors of the Senate building, hoping to catch a shuttle back to the Jedi Temple. Dwarfed by the Senate building's grandeur, she looked up into the sky far above it, a dome flooded with puffs of pink, rose and violet, keeping an eye out for an empty shuttle. It was not long in coming. She embarked, and found a seat towards the back. Looking over the vast city of Coruscant, she recalled another sunset, a Varonat sunset, as the shuttle sped through the darkening sky towards the Temple. She wondered when, or if, she would see him again.


********************************


Arriving at his classroom on the fourth floor, Adrian hurriedly slipped his ID indicator into the slot. The door slid back with a low hiss, admitting him to his classroom. The students were already assembled in their assigned groups, continuing a topical discussion begun nearly a week earlier. He smiled shyly at them, set his books on a small stool next to the door, and sat down with the closest group, quite content to listen, as it was his last class of the day.

A heated debate was already in progress concerning the merits of carrying weapons while involved in diplomatic duties. A lanky, dark-haired human youth of about sixteen gesticulated excitedly. "It's dangerous to live in Tareen City. There's no Security Force to speak of, criminal gangs and TionFrac run all sorts of black markets, extortion, prostitution; respectable people don't even try to live there anymore! Then there was the assassination of our Queen by that murdering scum, Carsten Hedegaard! I may have the Force on my side, but, sometimes you have to help it along a little, do a little 'aggressive negotiating with a lightsaber' if you get my point?"

Another human, a female about the same age turned on him, her blue eyes burning passionately. "Jain, your people killed thousands of Shoo'an. Our villages were looted and burned, entire families killed. In fact, Tareens started the war. There is no less crime where I come from," she asserted, fingering an amulet of some sort around her neck.

Mirrec, the Shamunai student from Ja'rel stood, interjecting, "Your peoples resist peace. They need to adapt peaceful actions before peace is a reality." Sitting gracefully, her eyes yellow reptilian slits, she grinned toothily at her fellow students, realizing most didn't understand the Shamunai custom of standing when speaking to a group.

"How about the Yuuzhan Vong? How can you fight that without weapons?" Jain interrupted her fiercely, referring to what he had learned at the Jedi Academy concerning the devastating wars that had nearly rendered the Galaxy lifeless, wrought havoc from the Outer Rim to the Core and had brought the Jedi literally to their knees. Through the circumstance of its location Ja'rel had been spared the destruction of the wars; however, it had not been spared their influence.

Adrian could understand Jain's misgivings: how could a Jedi survive with the Force as his only means of defense? How could a Jedi become THAT powerful? Adrian had yet to find a completely satisfying answer to this question, though he found himself practicing lightsaber techniques much less often than he once did.

"We eventually did overcome them, Jain. But the means by which it was done was not what many expected of either the New Republic or of the Jedi," Adrian interrupted the discussion, in hopes of clarifying the issue. "We eventually defeated the Yuuzhan Vong through the use of science, rather than weapons in battle," he explained.

Jain, dissatisfied with this, interrupted, "Well, the Yuuzhan Vong were defeated, but what of my people? The Emperor, Empress and the Shamunai work hard to unite Ja'rel, but the Divisionists continue to spread suspicion and doubt."

"Jain, I am well aware of the sufferings of the Ja'relian people. Master Patrice and I were present on Ja'rel when the truce between the Tareen Kingdom and the Shoo'an Empire was drawn together by the Shamunai. I even had the brief pleasure of meeting her Majesty, Queen Benefreren, may the Force rest her soul." Adrian nodded indicating his respect to the dead monarch, before continuing.

"All of you will need to be mindful of this lesson: your duties as Jedi Knights will carry you far from your home worlds. You will be assisting many different peoples and societies in finding solutions to their problems; you may not have an opportunity to visit your home for many years. Commitment to the Jedi Order requires all of us to put aside emotional bonds and attachments; it clears our judgment, enabling us to make decisions that are rational and impartial. It has been the experience of the overwhelming majority of Jedi over the centuries that rational and impartial decisions are the most just."

Finishing this explanation of the Jedi commitment, Adrian leaned back to listen to the continuing discussion. He felt warmer and more relaxed than when he had first arrived, an easing of the tension he had felt earlier. As was normal when he focused on listening to his students' discussions without participating, he entered a meditative state, their ideas, conflicts and resolutions seeming to assimilate into his mental processes without effort. Just as he had reached a zenith of meditative ease, however, his head snapped back abruptly, followed by a sudden jerking sensation in his chest. In the past, sensations of this sort had presaged disturbing visions of the future. Grimacing, fighting the yanking about his heart, angry that he had been caught unaware; he forced himself to focus, first on one student, then another.

His sifting focus rested finally on the Shoo'an student from Ja'rel. She was watching him intently, her eyes unwavering. Something in her demeanor was unsettling, but he felt nothing amiss in the Force or otherwise. Not wishing to allude to his own discomfort, and realizing it was time to end the class, Adrian rapped on the wall with his hand to gain the students' attention.

"This has been, perhaps for some, just another discussion of diplomatic practices," he said, "However, we have begun, if only a little, to understand the Jedi role in galactic peacekeeping. Class dismissed."

The students gathered up their possessions, and left the room, most in groups of two or three continuing their discussions from class. Adrian gathered up his books and headed towards the door.

"Master Adrian?" Jain's voice echoed behind him, interrupting Adrian's exodus.

"Yes, Jain?" Adrian answered, turning abruptly to face the young man.

"Master... would you consider... would you take me as your Padawan learner?" Jain intense brown eyes searching him, waiting for his answer.

Adrian was floored. Of all of the things he had expected the young man to say... not this. He held Jain's eyes for a moment, considering his reply. Carefully, he answered, "Jain, I am honored. However, pairing of master and Padawan is ultimately up to the Jedi Council. You do understand?"

"I do; I have lots to learn," Jain said, crestfallen, his eyes lingering on Adrian's face.

Hoping to salvage the youth's feelings, Adrian hastily added, "I will bring your request to the Council; we shall await their response... together." Then, as if remembering something long forgotten, he added, "Oh... I am going to be late for a meeting with Master Teraneka over in the north Tower."

Bowing curtly, Jain murmured a hasty, "Thank you, master," brushed past Adrian, and ran towards the end stairwell, his robes billowing behind him. Adrian stood nonplused, looking after the departed Jain for a few seconds.

'A Padawan learner!' Adrian thought, stymied, as he headed in the opposite direction from Jain, toward the center of the level, where one of the protracted stairwells led to the tower of the North Wing of the Temple. He walked briskly, not even noticing the different beings around him, and the clamoring of their emotions in the Force.

"Adrian!" He had only gone a few paces from his classroom when a voice startled him from behind, materializing into Wil Hedegaard.

The two Jedi fell into step alongside each other. Adrian quietly studied his friend, noticing how much he had changed. Wil's long, straight brown hair was pulled back, revealing a high forehead above deep smoldering blue eyes; his once-boyish frame had become muscular and hard with the experience of travel, work and the occasional, yet inevitable conflict.

"Wil! It's been ages! I haven't seen you or Gantor since... " Adrian allowed his voice to trail off, not wanting to bring up unpleasant events from the past. Wil interrupted him with a cheerful update.

"Well, our probation was cut short, because Gantor was needed on a mission to Chiss space. Considering the assignments we've gotten since, they seem to appreciate our contributions on Ja'rel," Wil said confidently. "After the work with the Chiss, Gantor took an assignment to help settle a Civil War out in the Setnin Sector; next, he had several missions out to the Rishi Maze, then to Wild Space. Last I heard, he was stationed near the Unknown Regions, this time with the Ssi-Ruk." Wil explained, his eyes sparkling as he spoke of his friend.

"What about you?" Adrian asked, as they approached the staircase and began to climb.

"I've had some interesting adventures as well," Wil added. "I did some time in the Corporate Sector, then assisted with a dispute settlement over in the Meridian Sector and some ecological work on Sluis Van. Later I saw action out near the Imperial Border on Agadar, and just recently, I completed some intriguing genetic research on the Vurk home world,"

"The most adventure I've had is grappling with overconfident students. That's enough for me these days," Adrian grinned. "Any news from out in the hinterlands?"

Looking around, Wil lowered his voice to a whisper. "I heard some weird rumors out on Agadar, then over on Dantooine as well. I felt a faint disturbance in the Force where that one slave colony used to be."

"That's understandable, after what you went through there, even though it was long ago. Did the rumors have to do with the disturbance?" Adrian furrowed his brow in concentration.

"No. We kept hearing rumors about there being a new empress, and how she's going to restore the Empire... " Wil said, his voice low, nervous.

"Oh," Adrian rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "That old story. Some people just want to stir up old hatreds. Though I must admit that having a Phelarion woman at the helm of an Empire dominated primarily by human males is an interesting twist," he commented wryly. "It will be interesting to see how that situation plays out... if the rumor is true, that is."

"Indeed," Wil said slowly, not sure how to respond. 'He's younger than I am, yet, it's as if he's lived a lifetime,' Wil thought, still baffled at his friend's ability to notice the disparate aspects of situations that seemed to escape most people, even other Jedi.

Appearing not to notice Wil's uneasiness, Adrian continued "I hear you've become quite the expert in xenobiology. Your mono-holo on the evolution of the Zabrak species of Iridonia had the Council in fits for days!"

"Well, I had a LOT of help from Gantor on that one," Wil chuckled, recalling the Zabrak's amusement at the Jedi Council's agitation at the publication of the holo, and his own subsequent defense of his various theses, which became even more infamous as the issue was prolonged.

"Don't forget your comparison of the genome maps of the Vurks and the Barabels!" Adrian continued. "That was pure genius, since it proves that the strand on which the midichlorian attachment is found is the very same in both species! The scientific community sees your work as quite a leap forward in the study of the genetics of sentient Force-using species. According to rumor control, you've become so accomplished even Rhyss brags about you."

"He does, does he?" Wil climbed faster, forcing Adrian to quicken his pace to catch up with the graceful Ja'relian Jedi.

"Wil, Patrice and I are grateful you and Gantor were on Ja'rel when everything went down," Adrian gasped between stairs. "Without you guys' help, we might not have been able to work with the Shamunai on the peace process there." 'I must find some time for sparring at least,' Adrian thought, aggravated at his deteriorating fitness. He grasped the railing more firmly, catching up with Wil.

"Glad we could help," Wil grinned, flushed with his friend's praise.

"Speaking of affairs on Ja'rel, did you ever receive any more information about your family's disappearance? I know you were hoping to learn something of who your parents were and exactly what happened."

Wil stopped as they reached the landing, and hesitated. Knitting his brows, he glanced at Adrian furtively, but did not reply.

"What is it, Wil?" Adrian asked, puzzled.

"It's just that... nothing. The Jedi who were assigned to investigate the situation collected their statistics, did their interviews, then... nothing. It is as if that village never existed and that massacre never happened. So, either the Council believes me... or they don't." Wil's cerulean eyes searched Adrian's amber ones. Adrian sensed sadness. Intense sadness, disappointment, and... something else. Something he did not wish to name.

"Perhaps there was nothing to find, Wil," Adrian said, regretting he had brought up the subject. "All I know is what I was told. That war lasted for a long time. Patrice said even the Shamunai weren't sure how long the Tareen and the Shoo'an had been at it. Peace happening at all... was a miracle, they say," he finished quietly, pausing once more.

"There is the matter of what Carsten told me... about Rhyss." Wil ventured, his face reddening slightly.

Adrian paused, weighing Wil's reaction, before he continued. "Consider the source: Carsten Hedegaard may be your brother, but he is not exactly unbiased - his experiences have undoubtedly clouded his judgment. And, Wil, remember, Rhyss is a very powerful Jedi, perhaps as powerful as Master Bress. Do not underestimate him," Adrian warned him.

Wil shook his head, his eyes still afire with the passion of his quest. "I know. But, Adrian, what can I do?"

"Patrice and I maintain some contacts with the Shamunai. Perhaps…" Catching himself in mid-sentence, Adrian pulled out his pocket chronometer from his tunic pocket. "I was supposed to meet Master Teraneka ten minutes ago! I'll talk to Patrice and let you know, Wil," Adrian waved to Wil as he hurried away down the catwalk.

"Thanks, Adrian. You're a good friend, you know?" Wil called after the figure of his friend. His spirits lifted, he sprinted back down the stairs.


********************************


Awakened by insistent pounding on his door, Adrian groggily pulled himself up out of bed, grabbed a small taper off his bedside table, lit it, then slipped on his boots and made his way towards the knocking. "Whoizzit?" he mumbled, unable to let go of his sleepiness, and the fuzzy dream that was slowly slipping from his grasp.

"It's Patrice. My jailer finally let me loose." Adrian unlatched the door, allowing her to enter, closing the door behind her.

Patrice shook her unruly chestnut mane loose from its ties. "We leave on a mission to the Elrood sector tomorrow, Adrian," she said breathily, still panting from what must have been a run from the shuttle pad to the West entrance and up several flights of stairs.

"What!? You must be mad. Both of us have duties!" Adrian felt himself slowly awakening to the reality of what she said. Mumbling sheepishly, he asked, "So, what's the mission and when do we leave?" He began to pull on his tunic and his outer robe hastily.

"Whoa... not so fast! I haven't decided who is going besides us. We will probably know who else will be going when the Council meets tomorrow," Patrice grinned, leaning casually on the edge of his desk, the dancing flames of the candle etching multifarious silhouettes of her against the canvas of the bare walls of the room.

Blushing a deep crimson, Adrian finished pulling on his outer clothing, then sat down on his bed. "That's a big help. Coincidentally, I need to speak to you concerning the Council meeting, Patrice."

"Yes?" she leaned forward, interested.

"One of the Ja'relian students has asked to become my Padawan learner. I was... well, I was a bit shocked," Adrian sat down on his bed, and looked at Patrice, his hazel eyes wide, innocent. Their expression at this moment brought to her mind the first time she had met him. She peered at him, struggling to push aside her own enthusiasm for the upcoming mission in order to listen.

"How do you feel about this, Adrian?" Patrice asked tentatively, simultaneously making herself unreadable.

This reaction was unexpected. Somehow, Adrian had hoped for the old excitement and enthusiasm Patrice had always displayed whenever he had achieved some new feat. As if she had read his mind, she began to explain herself before he could say anything.

"Don't get me wrong. I think you would be a fine master, Adrian. But, you still have much to learn. The one-on-one counsel that you have to give to a Padawan is much different from the occasional advice you provide to students in your classes. You are not long removed from being a Padawan learner yourself. Of course, the primary concern of the Council will be the fact that you will be leaving the Jedi Order to become king of Kiria. That is an eventuality you cannot deny. What does the Force tell you about this situation?"

"I don't need the Force to tell me he has an attitude," Adrian said, his tone touched with irony. "He is the Tareen candidate, Jain Kiinsgaard. He is angry at how his people have been treated by the other side on Ja'rel; he argues forcefully about it in class every chance he gets, and I have heard he does well with a lightsaber. He also has shown great aptitude, so I have heard, as a pilot. He debates well in classes, and his physical condition is excellent."

Patrice ventured thoughtfully, "I suspect you would be just the proper tempering influence that rash young man needs." She was well aware of Adrian's growing disenchantment with any sort of fighting or weapon use, even that which was justified under the revised Jedi code. Rare were his appearances in the training rooms, despite the fact that instructors were required to maintain readiness for field assignment at any time.

Seeming to read Patrice's thoughts, Adrian smiled slowly. "You are concerned about my dislike of fighting, Patrice. Don't be. My ally is the Force - the most powerful ally there is. If properly aligned with the Force, I need no weapons," he replied.

"That may be so, Adrian. However, you know that part of our path lies in defending the innocent and the weak. Without our fighting skills, what would have become of the galaxy during the Yuuzhan Vong invasions? Surely I don't have to tell you about the Peace Brigade. They all were destroyed because they refused to fight a foe that worshipped the pain induced by physical combat. I saw millions die because of such fatal errors in judgment," Patrice said, her face hard against the memories of that distant time.

Adrian looked away from her, the pale light streaming feebly through the small window of his cell, illuminating his face with its wide amber eyes, the silence his only answer. Changing the subject abruptly, he asked her, "So, about the mission?"

"It's an arbitration panel to the Elrood sector, an attempt to force a brokered agreement between the Vryjyk and the Elmasians. You've heard the generalities, I imagine." Patrice stated briefly.

Adrian could not suppress a small moan of dismay, grumbling, "So much for a pleasure trip."

"Rhyss is heading the panel, but in this case he can't do ALL of the work. Oh, incidentally, I have already been approached by one senator for my 'influence' on the arbitration panel, an old acquaintance of yours," Patrice snickered, winking at Adrian.

"Didn't waste any time, did she?" Adrian shook his head, grimacing.

Patrice laughed. "Rhyss already had me tagged, so Senator N'brey was a bit late on the draw. And he has made me responsible for choosing the rest of the panel." Patrice began to peer at the opposite wall, as she ticked off thoughts on her fingers, "As to personnel assigned, in addition to your sweet self, I want Wil Hedegaard and Arlyss."

"How did you know Wil was back on Coruscant?" Adrian blurted out, realizing too late, that of course Patrice would know Wil's whereabouts. She had taken an interest in the young Jedi ever since his hapless adventures as a runaway on Ja'rel.

"He sent me a holo that he was returning here some time ago; Rhyss also had mentioned it, I believe," she said, continuing with her list of nominees for the panel. "Hopefully the council will approve my selections without any problems. Wil has the xenobiological skills that are just right for dealing with two cultures as diverse as the Vryjyk and the Elmasians, not to mention all those in between. Arlyss has the all-around skills I'm looking for."

"Both of them are eminently qualified," Adrian answered, turning away from Patrice so she wouldn't see his sudden blush at the mention of Arlyss. Her lovely heart-shaped face, full round lips, long, glossy roan-colored hair and soft brown eyes conveyed her inner nature: by turns beautiful, intriguing, intrepid yet mysterious to him.

Smiling at the blush she already felt in the Force, and aware of its source, Patrice continued, "I suppose the real reason I woke you from your beauty sleep was simply to get a sympathetic ear. I don't think we belong in the Elrood sector, Adrian. The Senate... "

"Are you sure we should discuss this?" Adrian sounded hesitant, yet curious.

"Adrian, if you look at what has gone on when we've allowed ourselves to be used by the Senate to do their negotiating for them, you realize it has always resulted in disaster in the long run," Patrice insisted. "If we don't pull out of this dispute now, we could end up worse off than during the Yuuzhan Vong wars, or even during the Galactic Civil War. There is no telling what we could open ourselves up to. We are NOT diplomats. I used to think diplomacy was our high calling. But I like to think I've learned from my mistakes. And I made them in spades on Naboo, and again on Ja'rel. We should leave diplomacy to the professionals. The Force is not some inanimate object to be utilized as a slave to manipulate the actions of others; it is a living Entity, with a will and desires of its own. When it is defied and its Living Essence denied, it WILL have its due."

After a long silence, Adrian looked at the floor, then back at Patrice. "You have changed. I simply don't know if the Order is ready to change with you."

"I seriously doubt it," Patrice answered. "Anyhow, that is how I feel about this mission, and I felt at least I should tell you privately."

"Thanks," Adrian said drowsily, allowing a yawn to escape despite his efforts to stifle it.

"I'd best be going. Good night, my friend," Patrice whispered, closing the door gently. Adrian crept over to the bedside table and extinguished the tiny flame. Dropping back into bed, still fully clothed, he fell asleep before he had a chance to consider anything Patrice had said.


********************************


The three Ja'relian candidates stood in the center of the empty Council chamber, awaiting the beginning of their hearing for Padawan status. The only evidence of nervousness the Shamunai candidate betrayed was a slight twitch of the narrow slits of her yellow reptilian pupils. The other two candidates, the two Ja'relian humans, were attempting to breathe deeply and meditate, but their eyes moved about the room apprehensively, betraying inner unrest.

The oldest member of the Council, Master Wythmere of Tatooine, a veteran of the Yuuzhan Vong wars, and the first of the Jedi present to sit on the Council when it reconvened as an all-Jedi organization after the wars, was the first member of the Council to enter the chamber. Master Rhyss had arrived with several other Council members, speaking in animated tones with a Twi'lek Council member to his left.

"This could have been scheduled last week," the Twi'lek grumbled, "seeing as this arbitration business with the Vryjyks and Elmasians was inevitable!" Several nodded in agreement as they were seated, facing the prospective Padawans. In the very center of the chamber, Master Bress, head of the Jedi Council, took his place, the very last of the Council members to enter the chamber.

In addition to the Council members were several Jedi knights standing near the entrance to the chamber against the wall. Patrice, the most prominent of these Jedi knights held in her hands an odd, twisted stave, a lifestaff, which appeared to be a combination of a Yuuzhan Vong amphistaff and a gimer stick. Adrian stood against the wall beside her, his posture grim and tense, his arms folded, his hands grasping across his body to opposite shoulders. Wil Hedegaard and Arlyss were also present, having forsaken advanced combat practice in order to witness these proceedings.

Tossing his long, shiny black hair over his shoulders, Master Bress eyed the three candidates with a quick, almost indiscernible wink and said, "Let's begin."

Patrice stepped forward, her lifestaff held stiffly in both hands. An elegant figure in a formal white robe and soft black slippers, hair carefully coifed in a regal coiled braid, she eyed the members of the Council, scrutinizing each in turn. After some moments, she spoke.

"Honored Masters of the Jedi Council: these candidates come before you this morning to request promotion to the rank of Jedi Padawan and selection for individual training with a Jedi Knight or Master, the last step before taking the trials to become a Jedi Knight."
Turning to the candidates, she said simply, "Padawan Candidates, may the Force be with you."

Stretching out her hand she indicated each of the candidates in turn to the Council. "I am honored to present to you Candidate Mirrec of the Shamunai, Candidate Jain Kiinsgaard of the Tareen and Candidate Yeri Velkun of the Shoo'an, all from Ja'rel."

Returned to her earlier position near the door, Patrice relinquished the floor to Master Bress. He and the rest of the Council, leaned back in their chairs, peering at the Shamunai candidate. Glancing at Master Wythmere, Bress addressed Mirrec, "You miss the group mind of the Shamunai." His brown eyes did not veer from their level gaze at the Shamunai student.

Mirrec looked at Bress, then at the floor. She showed no sign of nervousness; even her pupils had stopped twitching.

"The Shamunai are raised from infancy to communicate in group mind. It is a comforting presence; no one feels alone. Also convenient. I survive easily without it, however," she answered Bress succinctly.

Rhyss nodded, as did several other members of the Council. "I understand that at least one of you was tempted by the Dark Side of the Force," he stated without humor, shifting his menacing glare to the Shoo'an candidate, Yeri Velkun. Wil and Arlyss turned to gape at the Jedi Master, shocked at what to them was an unexpected question. Patrice and Adrian continued to watch dispassionately as the Shoo'an girl responded.

"None of us gave in to anger at the Academy," Yeri Velkun stated, puzzled, yet unafraid. Jain Kiinsgaard fared less well than his Shoo'an counterpart as the full force of the Council's mental probing resulting from this question was directed at him. He began to pant nervously as he confessed to having practiced his levitation exercises on some of the aircraft belonging to the Academy instructors, and to taking one of the craft for a joyride afterwards.

Adrian looked over at Patrice and raised one eyebrow quizzically. Patrice merely nodded, continuing to watch the proceedings without comment.

"You are rash... impulsive... perhaps you are not Jedi material, Candidate Kiinsgaard," Master Wythmere reprimanded him sternly. "Tell us why you wish to become a Jedi knight."

All eyes in the Council chamber were focused on the young Padawan facing his inquisitor. His gaunt, earnest face paled as he looked at his feet, then muttered, "I don't know; to better serve my people."

"Is stealing a shuttle and seeking cheap thrills serving your people, Jain?" Rhyss asked him pointedly.

Jain looked again at the floor, not answering; the room was silent except for the echo of the breathing of the beings in the cavernous hall.

Master Bress regarded Jain silently a moment, then continued, "We shall consider your case, and your record at the Academy, which, aside from this particular incident, is spotless."

Once satisfied that he had reprimanded Jain sufficiently, Bress turned and faced the Council, a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

"I shall take Mirrec as my Padawan learner," announced the Bothan Jedi master Hykk abruptly. Though considered arrogant, as Bothans normally are, no one else present dared challenge Hykk, as he was, after all, the most skilled of all the Jedi present other than Bress at the mental probing and tactics that the Shamunai excelled at.

Glancing at Patrice Adrian felt a gentle impetus to his mind. It was a sensation he had learned to associate with thought communications from his former master. He could hear her words, as clear as if she had spoken them: 'One as reckless as he needs one as grounded in the Force as you'

Startled, he actually responded to her, saying, "Yes." His words trailed off, as he realized the entire Jedi Council had turned in the direction of commotion near the doorway. Patrice smiled, and said nothing. Calmly, Adrian stepped forward, and said; "I wish to take Jain Kiinsgaard as my Padawan learner."

The Council erupted in a flurry of debate.

"You are soon to leave the Jedi order to become king of Kiria. Why do you wish to take on this mantle of responsibility only to shake it off at a later date?" queried Master Vann of Bilbringi, another veteran of the Yuuzhan Vong wars.

"Do you truly think you have much to teach this young man at your level of experience?" protested M'brr, the Jedi Master from Bakura. "You are not much more than a Padawan learner yourself."

"Yet his accomplishments do speak for themselves, do they not?" The elegant voice of Nor Al Haddar, the Jedi Master who had been witness to Adrian's very first mission, could be heard, a lone, dissenting voice, it was true, but a voice to be reckoned with, Adrian remembered with gratitude.

Master Bress held up his hand in a gesture for silence. He looked at Adrian, his dark eyes revealing nothing.

"I would like to hear what you have to say, Adrian."

"It is the will of the Force for me to take Jain as my Padawan learner, Master Bress," Adrian felt his resolution wavering.

"Are you sure it isn't simply the will of your friend and old master? That relationship is, after all, quite an influential one," Rhyss interjected, glancing over at Patrice, his dark eyes glittering coals.

Patrice moved toward the center of the chamber, glowering at Rhyss. "You treat such a serious subject rather lightly, Master Rhyss. I would think the Council would be grateful that Adrian is taking his responsibilities as a Jedi knight seriously enough that he requests to train a Padawan learner, in obedience to the will of the Force."

"It would seem that he is behaving differently than his former master in that respect," Rhyss shot back.

"We all endeavor to do the will of the Force to the best of our abilities, Master Rhyss," Patrice said curtly, irked by Rhyss's comment, not liking the direction she sensed it heading.

"So, I take it that it is the will of the Force that you conduct a lurid, lustful affair with an Imperial Admiral while on an official Jedi mission?" Rhyss hissed nastily, barely concealing his tone of triumph.

"Patrice, are these charges true?" Master Bress asked quietly.

Patrice, though she had been somewhat blindsided by Rhyss's actions, was not surprised at this idiot's array. Abruptly, the emotions Adrian normally felt flowing to and from his former master completely halted. Stunned, he realized Patrice was closed to everyone else present as well. It appeared that even those most experienced Jedi Masters could not enter Patrice's sphere of existence to find out what they wished to know. She had become too powerful a Jedi for that.

Adrian realized with growing horror that he alone, aside from his former master, was aware of the truth of her situation. Did anyone else realize he knew? Did Rhyss know? Would anyone attempt to pry Patrice's secret from him? He knew he could not allow his emotions to spike or Rhyss would most certainly make a connection. Why wasn't he feeling him probing his mind? Unless...

He glanced sidewise at Patrice. Still saying nothing, she appeared as serene as ever. Adrian also felt strangely calm. Perhaps Patrice had learned a great deal more than anyone had realized from the Shamunai. She had told him that, in many ways, she had seen the Shamunai approach to the Force as leading the Jedi into a new era if they were willing to open their minds. It was already happening, now, whether the rest of the Jedi were open to it or not.

Patrice continued to stand motionless, her somber eyes surveying the Council members. Bress, realizing he had been stalemated, ignoring her brush-off, rushed to answer the question no one had dared asked.

"Patrice, if we were to turn you over to the government of the New Republic, an investigation of Master Rhyss's charges would be launched immediately. Should the resulting investigation produce evidence you had consorted with an enemy of the New Republic and you were tried and convicted of acts of treason, the sentence would be death," Bress said quietly. "It is, however, your right as a Jedi Knight to request a formal investigation of these charges by the Jedi Order, rather than allow yourself to be turned over to the New Republic government."

Patrice drew herself to her full height, addressing Bress formally. "I respectfully request that the Jedi Council launch a formal investigation into this matter, if I am to be accused of subject named offense at this time."

"Now is not the time for us to honor your request, and it is certainly no time for formal charges and the investigation that need follow. A crucial dispute in the Elrood sector demands our immediate attention. An Arbitration Panel, the Jedi component of which is to be headed up by Master Rhyss has been assigned to broker a settlement between Elmasian Hegemony and the Combined Vryj System. When you return, the Reconciliation Council will then convene to investigate these allegations. As these charges appear to stem from events that took place some years ago, any evidence that either you or Master Rhyss should present will be, necessarily, rather dated," Bress concluded his remarks, a rather twisted grimace on his face.

Patrice retreated to her place next to the wall, saying nothing, as Bress returned his attention to Adrian. "It is my opinion that Adrian would make an excellent master for this rash young man. He is patient, and cautious, slow to judgment in difficult situations, never rash. He has encountered and overcome many dangers, and, foremost in this case, he is familiar with the Tareen culture from which Jain comes to us for training. Furthermore, his contributions to the Ja'relian peace process were invaluable. I fully support his request," Bress said curtly, defying anyone to disagree.

Rhyss broke the silence, saying shortly, "I withdraw my earlier objections. Adrian has acquitted himself well and is a great asset to the Jedi order."

Patrice regarded Rhyss critically. 'He's up to something with this; it would be worth the Force knows how much to know what,' she thought. She smiled at Adrian as he walked over and stood behind Jain.

"May the Force be with you, Adrian and Jain," Bress said smoothly. "Your first mission together will be as part of the Elrood sector arbitration panel." Falling silent, he waited for another Council master to relieve him of the burden of having to assign the third Padawan learner. The relief he sought did not come in the expected manner.

"I wish to take Yeri Velkun of the Shoo'an as my Padawan learner," a quiet tenor voice intoned. The entire Jedi Council turned towards Wil Hedegaard.

"He lacks experience and is a troublemaker," the Bothan master, Hykk stated, his fur rippling with disdain. "His flight and subsequent probation as a new Knight was a scandal!"

"May I remind you, Master Hykk, that Wil Hedegaard is by no means an inexperienced Jedi Knight," Rhyss spoke up in Wil's defense, "He was taught in the old way, from age two standard years. Very few Jedi can claim to have been trained this way. Additionally, despite the single episode you have cited, he has since proven his worth by doing what is required of him and more."

"Your arguments have reason, Master Rhyss." Master Wythmere said, glancing over at Wil, his keen brown eyes lending tenderness to his lined, aged face. "Let us hear what Wil has to say. I sense the Force at work here as well."

"I too have some experience of Ja'rel and the Shoo'an-Tareen conflict. I feel that I have a unique perspective on this issue, as well as some others that face Padawan learners," Wil explained, his attempts to keep from blushing failing at the last.

The Rodian, Master Grulin, fixed his heavy black eyes on Wil. "I am still skeptical of your ability as a Jedi knight, much less of your ability to train a Padawan learner."

"He has served the Order on several crucial missions. Not only has he proved himself in a number of crucial peacekeeping missions, but has also made some critical contributions to genetic research during several of these missions concerning the passing on of Jedi traits and midichlorian symbiosis," Rhyss began in a more formal tone.

"These are not his only virtues as a colleague and leader, esteemed masters," a feminine voice spoke up, cutting off Rhyss' praise of the young Knight. Adrian found himself drawn immediately to its owner, the Jedi knight, Arlyss.

"Arlyss, you have something to say on Wil's behalf?" Wythmere was positively chirpy.

"I served with Wil on several missions in the last two years. He not only does the job assigned, he goes among the peoples we visit when we are finished working, assisting individuals when and where he can, during his leisure time. He is a skilled, sensitive Jedi to serve with, immersed in the Force. I have learned much from him." Arlyss's deep brown eyes were bright with her impassioned plea.

Rhyss spoke again. "The young man has indeed accomplished a great deal in a broad array of fields. In addition to what he has already mentioned, he has also published two holo-liths on Iridonian physiology, as well as another general holo concerning general xenobiological research. In addition to his considerable academic skills, he has demonstrated a great deal of courage, honor and commitment in the field in several recent missions, the most recent being one to the Agamar system," Rhyss finished with his characteristic flourish.

Patrice and Adrian shared puzzled expressions at Rhyss' obvious high praise of Wil Hedegaard. Though Wil's achievements were extensive, perhaps even surprising, they were not particularly extraordinary, given the times or the present company. Patrice again wondered if Rhyss had ulterior motives, and recalled Wil's stubborn assertion that he and Carsten Hedegaard were related.

Bress abruptly broke the silence, "Wil Hedegaard, you may take Yeri Velkun as your Padawan learner. The two of you are also assigned to the Elrood Sector delegation. The delegation, headed by Master Rhyss, assisted by Patrice, will include you, your Padawan, Arlyss, Adrian, his Padawan, Master Hykk, his Padawan Mirrec, several other Jedi not present at this Council, and Master Ak Re Dakor as observer and scribe. Master Hykk and Mirrec will serve as liaisons to the trade entities. This Council is concluded."

The Council members filed out of the chamber through the thick, wooden doors, followed by Patrice, Adrian, Wil, Arlyss and the Padawans. 'Adrian and Jain make a fascinating pairing,' Wil thought, as he followed them out, closing the doors behind him. Adrian's honey blonde hair, hazel eyes, tall sturdy frame, royal bearing and intense gaze were the outer reflection of the inner seriousness possessed by the heir to the Kirian throne. 'He's aristocratic through and through, really,' Wil thought. He had long believed that someday, Adrian would not only return to Kiria and rule with a firm, wise hand, but that the Jedi would become a Kirian king for the legends, the greatest Kiria had ever known. However, it was something Wil never spoke of to anyone.

Jain was a bit taller, a muscular, athletic build, with black bristly cropped hair and deep brown eyes, a mischievous mien to his face, open to all the life around him, intensely emotional. He appeared to be relieved that the proceedings were over, yet eager at the same time to begin his apprenticeship. 'They belong together,' Wil thought.

It was seeing Adrian and Jain together that brought Wil's thoughts back to Gantor. 'I miss Gantor so much. I could quit and go look for him, I suppose. Hmm, wonder what I'd do if I weren't a Jedi? I could be a smuggler or a mercenary, maybe even some sort of lab tech for hire. Could be a lucrative undertaking. Nah, enough for one member of the family to be an outlaw,' he chuckled, recalling the last time he had seen Carsten. 'It would be a bad example for my Padawan learner.'

Glancing sidewise at his new Padawan, Wil regarded Yeri with something akin to wonder. She was quite lovely, her long blonde hair lying in curls on her shoulders, her hips undulating in a sly movement under her Jedi robes. He felt an odd feeling in his solar plexus along with a shortening of breath. Analyzing the feeling at the same time he attempted to regain his breath, Wil thought, 'Of course, she's attractive. Oh, hell. Why couldn't Patrice have taken her on? Or Arlyss? I must be insane,' he snorted to himself, following the others down the wide hallway towards the stairs.


********************************


"Systems online, Master," Jain called to Adrian, as he powered up the engines. Adrian had felt odd about allowing Jain to fly his personal craft, but, recalling his first trip with Patrice in this very same modified X-Wing, he had climbed gingerly into the navigational seat of the cockpit next to his Padawan.

"Thanks, Jain," Adrian said, a bit distractedly, before asking, "You sure you're comfortable flying this thing?" He had been surprised at Jain's eagerness to fly the long distance in an unfamiliar craft his first time behind the controls. Even after all this time, Adrian found the notion of modifying an x-wing to fit two people into the cockpit a bit on the strange side, not to mention a bit cramped and straining on one's comfort margin.

"Oh, no problem, Master," Jain enthused, continuing to check the systems. "I've been flying stunt skiffs ever since I was about three or four," he added confidently, double-checking his safety straps, pulling on his helmet, then pressing the last button.

The thunderous roar of the engines at ignition always sent cold shivers down Adrian's spine. He felt every part of the ship come to life in a cacophony of sensations. The ship shimmied from the four powerful engines, two on either side of the droid-enclosed, double seated cock-pit, continuously reminding Adrian of the first time he ever flew in the machine with Patrice all those years ago.

Gazing out the porthole of the passenger section of the Republic Senatorial Star Cruiser Verité, Patrice watched the other crafts powering up on the landing pad. The Force seemed to be taunting her with many feelings of mixed joy, dread, something called anticipation; all of it bundled up away from her, her own body strapped into take-off position in a passenger seat far away from the cockpit. Rhyss sat beside her, immersed in his holo-drafts of the proposals for the upcoming arbitrations.

Patrice continued to peer enviously at Adrian's sleek, modified X-Wing fighter standing on the platform beside them. On the other side of the stalwart Star Cruiser, out of Patrice's view, was the Vendor 3, a sleek Kuat craft belonging to Wil Hedegaard that he and Yeri were utilizing for the mission. All was in place, for the departure to Dedonne, a neutral planet in the Dedonne System of the Elrood Sector, where the arbitration panel would convene.

Patrice thought longingly of a few years ago, when it was just Adrian and herself, just Padawan and Master, together on some odd, peculiar mission to somewhere, anywhere in the wide galaxy. Wishing to be, again, strapped into the seat in the cockpit of the oddball X-Wing beside Adrian on some wild adventure, which, always seemed to catch them off guard wherever they ended up, she remembered the first time they had taken off, from this very platform. How she had had to calm Adrian when the X-Wing had pinned him flat against his seat, helpless as they had exploded into the black infinity of space.

Now Adrian was the master, waiting for his Padawan to show him what he could do behind the controls of the X-Wing. Patrice smiled to herself, and leaned against the bulkhead next to her seat, and closed her eyes serenely.

The entourage took off, Verité leading, Wil's Vendor 3 next, with Adrian's X-Wing bringing up the rear. The triad of ships speared gracefully through the pale pink star dotted dawn of Coruscant's sky, into space.

A tip of the triad then veered off, looping wildly about, as if it had lost its pitch. Patrice peered out the window of Verité and chuckled softly to herself. The X-Wing continued its mad flight of fancy into successive figure eights, then straightened itself out skeetering into what appeared to be a complete stop inside of five seconds. Amazed, Patrice stared at the X-Wing. Her breath caught in her throat, she gaped as the craft suddenly dropped from its position, then took a frenzied roll back into its original upright position. Patrice laughed out loud, imagining the chastising Adrian was giving his hapless apprentice.

"Blast it all, Jain! You are going to get us killed! Even Patrice... the good sense... you will... " Adrian's angry rebuke was lost in the powerful thrusts of the engines, as Jain continued his mad maneuverings. Gripping the bulkhead and arms of his chair at various intervals, Adrian managed to gain control of his reflexes long enough to adjust his straps and secure himself more firmly to his seat. Glancing at the holo-arc, he was momentarily amazed that the x-wing was still in one piece, much less that his vertigo was the only indication to him that they were NOT flying in a relatively straight line.

Calmly, the Padawan moved his fingers over the controls as if at one with them. "I've flown every type of stunt skiff, Master. I've even built a few of them from scratch and junk yard refuse. You know... couldn't afford to waste much in Tareen City those last few years," he drawled, his focus never leaving the scopes and window ahead of him.

"Just knock this crap off and fly with the rest of the group, Padawan," Adrian hissed under his breath.

Caught off guard by his master's fury, Jain quickly brought the lurching craft back into formation with Verité and Vendor 3, its jets emitting one last blast, then silencing abruptly. Glancing at Adrian, Jain focused his attention on the scope, and announced, "Rejoined formation, per your orders, Master."

His face chartreuse with unconcealed nauseous rage, Adrian said nothing, and stared straight ahead at nothing. It would take more than a few hours of meditation to right this emotional state, he thought. This foolish Padawan could have cost them their ship AND their lives, he fumed. Patrice had known what she was doing, oddly enough. But this... this... show-off.

Jain coolly continued to maneuver the craft within the formation, concentrating only on the task at hand, as the coterie passed out of the first circles of the Inner Rim.

With the Elmasian and Vryjyk senatorial parties both present on the Verité, but avoiding each others' presence, keeping to their own designated quarters, Patrice, Rhyss and Arlyss had little to do. 'As if it wasn't enough that the two peoples fight,' Patrice thought to herself glancing over at Rhyss sitting on the seat across from her, his dark eyes flashing dangerously, as he turned towards her.

"Patrice, would you please review these?" Rhyss handed her a data-pad with the outline for the arbitration panel proceedings. "If everything is in place when we arrive, at least we will know what to expect." He turned back to another data-pad and resumed working.

'Hmph. The only thing I expect is that nothing will be the way we expect it to be,' Patrice thought grumpily, as she mused over the rush of information presenting itself in front of her.


********************************


"His Holiness, High Priest Ryktha, Lord Protector of the Faith," announced the Elmasian page. A large, multicolored feathered being, wearing a deep violet cassock and a violet mitre entered the room, accompanied by several smaller similar beings, who were wearing white cassocks, and carrying small, white boxes. The party made its way to the right of the area where Adrian, Patrice, and the Jedi entourage had stationed themselves. Furniture that was designed for Elmasian comfort had been placed there for the six members of the party.

The Elmasians set the boxes down in front of the place of the High Priest, then arranged themselves about their furniture, curling their spindly legs about the long thin legs of the chairs. In order to balance themselves in a posture as close to stationery standing as they could approximate with their physiology, they spread their arms out to their sides, and had the appearance of joining hands behind their High Priest. "This is meant as a sign of respect to the proceedings," Wil whispered to Rhyss. "Elmasians are unable to stand for long periods of time without assistance for balance."

"His Honor, Lymmik, Ambassador of the Combined Vryj System," he called out distinctly.

The Vryjyk ambassadorial party entered the chamber, six members as the Elmasian party before them. The ambassador was flanked by five attachés and a platinum-hued protocol droid set up on a self-propelling holo-platform. The presence of the droid sent stirs of commotion throughout the Elmasian delegation. The Elmasian High Priest reacting to the crude, deliberate insult of the droid's presence appeared helpless as his feathers transmuted from violet to bright chartreuse. "They mock us with ostentatious wealth!" he shouted angrily, his feathered claws flailing conspicuously, his beak pointing directly towards the Vryjyk ambassador.

"If I may be so bold, MR. Ambassador," Rhyss addressed the Vryjyk. "Since the droid is causing a delay, I respectfully request you have it wait outside, please."

Patrice was aware that the Elmasian delegation harbored a desire to discredit the Vryj government in the eyes of the arbiters. If Rhyss could persuade Ambassador Lymmik to send his droid out of the chamber, this political weapon would be disarmed right away.

"I will hear of no such thing!" the Vryjyk ambassador hissed, his mandibles clicking in rhythm with his forearms, clearly annoyed. "The protocol droid is my personal translator. I will NOT use any other! It is necessary to send back continual feeds to the peoples of our worlds!"

"Surely, our translation system can do the job well enough for you to understand the proceedings, MR. Ambassador. The HoloNet... " Rhyss began, only to be interrupted by the Vryjyk Ambassador once more.

"I do not trust your Mechanicalles!" the Ambassador interrupted Rhyss angrily. "We shall use only our own!"

Patrice shook her head. Barely an hour since planetfall, and already, petty bickering had taken the place of intelligent discussion. The feathers of the entire Elmasian delegation had turned a putrid vitriolic orange, and all of the Vryjyk present were clicking their mandibles so loudly it was almost impossible to hear anything above the din. She sighed audibly, scowling at Rhyss as he walked over to the Elmasian delegation, bowing his head slightly, attempting to prevent a mass exit on their part.

The arbitration panel had convened in a spacious concert auditorium, Casaan Hall, in the city of Orrida Dedonne, the capital city of Dedonne Major, the principal continent of Dedonne. Due to demonstrations in front of Casaan Hall, the Jedi and the arriving Senators had had to be secreted in through underground tubes from a landing site some kilometers away from the hall.

Patrice had suggested quiet proceedings, with as few officials present as possible, but it was obvious to her that this advice hadn't been heeded. Counting the Elmasian High Priest and his staff, the Vryjyk Ambassador and his staff, as well as the two systems' respective senators and their staff, the opposing parties alone accounted for over twenty beings. Added to that the 'other interested parties, as well as representatives of member systems of other affected areas in the Elrood system'... it had long passed nightmare proportions, and Patrice slumped in her chair, prepared for the worst. Or so she thought, as she fought the temptation to doze.

Someone shook her hard; she jumped up out of her chair, her hand on her lightsaber, her eyes wide. Several delegates were competing to be heard. Though Rhyss had assigned them numbers in order of request, they had continued to shout at each other and ignore the Jedi Master. Sensing something unusual behind her, she spun around to see Adrian motioning urgently for her to come with him. She moved cautiously towards the door, passing though throngs of shouting, wrangling beings until she was directly behind the tall, tawny haired Jedi.

"Hurry! We can't hold them!" Adrian called as he began to push through the crowd that had gathered in front of the hall. Patrice noticed as she followed him that a number of what appeared to be local security officers had cordoned off the front of the building, effectively dividing two groups of demonstrators from each other. Puzzled, she came up beside Adrian and shot the panting young Jedi a confused look.

"The group on the left supports the panel; the group at right opposes it." Grunting, Adrian stopped in front of several large Vryjyk to their right, and easily Forced-nudged them back behind the police barrier. Patrice took a stance several feet away, needing no explanation. The possibility of being pounded to a ripe pulp by these thugs beat listening to the delegates inside the hall argue for another endless hour.

Patrice glanced to the other side of Adrian. Arlyss stood, hand on the hilt of her lightsaber, her stance similar to Patrice's. Adrian simply stood, his eyes closed, his face impassive, feet apart. The largest of a group of nearby Vryjyk sneered, "Look! Jedi." The word dripped off his tongue, as spent tabac juice.

Another of the group snorted, "Human Jedi. Kick their ass."

The large Vryjyk was as good as his friend's word, his six giant arms making a grab for Adrian. Repelled by what seemed to be an invisible wall surrounding the Kirian, he tried once more to grab the Jedi. This time, he was flung several meters through the air, landing on his back in the midst of the square with a loud thud and a surprised grunt.

Adrian's deep concentration, as well as that of his companions, was focused on keeping the factions apart as well as out of the building. Adrian sensed Patrice and Arlyss close by, their concentration mingling with his own, but also sensed another presence as well, a cold, familiar presence. Whatever or whoever it was, it wasn't directly participating in the protest, but as he was unable to pinpoint its source, he couldn't recall from where or who he had felt it before.

"Where do you need us?" a voice called out as a small group of Jedi approached them from amidst the rabble.

"Where did YOU come from, Master Sheredda?" Adrian heard Patrice call out to the voice. Fatigued from the extensive use of the Force against the aggregate, Adrian was surprised at how Patrice was managing to talk to the immense single-crested Vurk and continue to maintain her Force-presence.

The Vurk effortlessly Force-pushed three Elmasians back across the line into the seething crowd, his formidable physique exhibiting a mere fragment of its extraordinary endurance under the pressure of combined mental and physical stress. "We were re-directed last night as we were preparing to leave Eriadu to head back to Coruscant. We came to assist the Jedi here with the arbitration panel for the next several days."

Patrice smiled at him, while lofting a small, wiry Vryjyk with a flick of her hand. "Glad you could join us... " Their attention was diverted by Arlyss, who had darted out of the crowd into the midst of the square. Her long hair tossing about her face wildly, she was struggling fiercely to disarm two Elmasians who had overturned a speeder and set it afire. The petite brunette Jedi had almost gotten them back behind the fortifications, when she abruptly found herself battling a heavily-armed mob of demonstrators-turned-rioters that had come to the aid of their embattled comrades.

Intent, Arlyss fought her attackers, using both the strength and will of the Force as well as a powerful physical display of kicks, arm thrusts and lightsaber cuts. The larger of the pair of miscreants, a bluish-chartreuse Elmasian, pulled out a blaster, screaming for her to cease, or he would kill all three of them. His partner, a reddish plumed fellow, shouted something obscured by the further clash of weapons, the clank of police armor and more shouting. The mob had formed something of a ragged ring about the pair, some raising vibro-axes and blasters, others picking up stones, bottles and other debris to ward off police and Jedi alike. De-igniting her lightsaber, Arlyss dropped her hands at her side. The mob drew closer and closer, all the crowd's weapons now trained on Arlyss.

Patrice stood silently, considering the options. This was entirely unexpected. Until now, the police had been the main objects of the ire of the crowd. A Jedi as a victim or hostage had not been something anyone had thought likely. Any solution had to also defuse the tense emotional state of the crowd. Focusing intently, she thought she saw a possible opening in the pressing crowd around Arlyss. Master Sheredda stood next to her, waiting for her to make the first move, give the first order.

Then, the Elmasian holding Arlyss was... no longer armed? Patrice turned to see Adrian holding the blaster that the attacker had trained on Arlyss. He handed it to the Orrida Dedonne police captain, who had joined the Jedi on the verandah of the concert hall. Arlyss, again wielding her lightsaber, drove the puzzled malcontents towards the police officers stationed on the verandah. Orders of formal arrest were read as the gang of Elmasians that had assaulted Arlyss, as well the two Vryjyk who had sparked the riot were put into binders and herded into waiting prison transports.

More police, as well as several Jedi Patrice didn't recognize, moved in quickly, encouraging hangers-on to leave the area, and herding remaining rioters to arresting officers. Master Sheredda waved at Patrice and Arlyss, signaling that everything was under control, and ordered his contingent of Jedi to take up positions around the building. Nodding their acknowledgement, she and Arlyss hurried to join Adrian, who was quietly walking away, not looking back.


********************************


"Relax," Wil's voice echoed in the Hotel Orrida Casaan's vast gymnasium. "Through relaxation you will be able to access additional strength, which would not be available to you if you're controlled by your emotions. You have to transcend emotion in order to keep the upper hand in any situation, because if you give in to the impulses and strong sensations of subjective emotions, and become enslaved by them you will not be able to utilize your abilities to the fullest. You'll become reckless, foolhardy and lack the control that is required for tasks at hand."

Yeri and Jain sat in front of Wil, meditating, as they listened to every word. Nothing was lost on them.

"No matter what happens you must restrain your emotions, it is essential. It is okay to feel, we are sentient beings and emotions are a part of us, but to not act on all impulses created by our emotions is what makes us Jedi," Wil intoned solemnly.

"But Master Wil, I don't understand... " Yeri said slowly. "How can it be okay to have feelings, but not to act on them? Doesn't that make us weak?"

"You silly wit," Jain snickered.

"Actually, that's a good observation, Yeri," Wil replied, silencing Jain's derision. "As I mentioned before, we are beings with emotions and emotions demand some acknowledgement in practically everything we do. However, we cannot act on every impulse our emotions demand of us."

"I still don't understand... " Yeri whispered.

"Okay, as an example, let's say for instance that someone came to you for help and, after judging that person to be in the right, you decide to help. Well, then you are taking a stand. And that necessarily will bring you enemies, since, if you decide to help one side you send a clear signal to the opposing side that you are against them. It's that simple: choose a side... only pray you choose the right side. So, no matter what you do, somebody will always hold it against you: not you as a person, but you as a Jedi. If you help someone you hurt someone else, if you don't help then you just prove those who hate you right. You have to decide within yourself what kind of person you want to be: and in the Jedi Order there is only ONE you can be and that is the one who unselfishly helps others despite what harm and resentment it might bring. There is always someone getting hurt when we help. We just have to make sure that as few as possible are hurt by our actions. Does that clear it up for you, Yeri?"

"I... I'm not sure... " the Padawan still appeared bemused.

"Think on the issue in your meditations, my Padawan learner. But now, saber practice! Physical readiness is vital to a Jedi's well-being. Without physical fitness, a Jedi is not a Jedi! We have always been, from the beginning of our history, warriors," Wil said, as he rose, his agile figure outlined by the sun against the far wall as he walked over to the bench where he had lain his cloak. Beside it were two extra lightsabers. "Come, both of you! There is no time to waste!"

"Yes, master Wil," both Padawans answered, glancing at each other shrewdly, anticipation gleaming in their eyes as they caught the sabers Wil sent to them across the gym.

"Yeri, you first. Jain, watch carefully, noting the attack I utilize for her to meet. I will have some questions for you before you start," Wil ordered.

The practice didn't take long to frustrate Yeri. Jain enjoyed criticizing every move she made; her frustration with his continual faultfinding merely added to his pleasure in this undertaking. Wil appeared not to notice the rivalry between the two Padawans, so immersed was he in his instruction of them.

"Yeri, Jain is correct; you are meeting my attacks much too aggressively. Hold back, and try to sense my movements in the Force," he told her.

"I thought I was doing that, master," Yeri responded, her cheeks reddening in mounting rage at the continued reprimands.

"There is a difference between anticipation and aggression," Wil admonished her mildly. "One will serve you; the other will defeat you, and lead to the hate and suffering of the Dark Side."

"Don't feel left out; there's enough of both for everyone!" a deep voice called out, from across the gym as the owner of the voice approached them.

"Gantor!" Wil called out to the voice, his pleasure obvious, even to the Padawans. "Where did you come from?" Though Wil was enervated from his workout, the Padawans were surprised at how easily he managed to talk to the horned Zabrak, concealing his physical exhaustion.

Gantor grinned toothily, "Oh, we got called up last night while cooling our heels over on Eriadu. Apparently you guys needed some fresh Jedi poodoo! Who else is here?"

"Everyone's here. Adrian, Patrice, Rhyss... " then Wil paused, noticing the young man following closely behind Gantor. Taking a closer look, Wil was completely floored by the being standing in front of him. Wil, the quintessential xenobiologist, could not stop staring at this exquisite creature, obviously Gantor's Padawan.

"Meet my Padawan learner, Hedon Junn. Hedon, this is my good friend, and partner in crime, Wil Hedegaard!" At Wil's grimace, Gantor looked back at Wil and whispered, "He asked me about that time we ran off looking for Carsten; knows all about it. Love this guy, but some find him a bit spooky." Gantor gave Wil a toothy grin.

"I am most pleased to meet you, Hedon Junn. Mythlorian, aren't you?" Wil asked politely, focusing on the Padawan's slender face, with his deep inquisitive sapphire eyes, sleek nose, and sensitive, sensuous mouth.

Nodding politely, Hedon Junn moved silently to join the other Padawans who had continued to spar on the makeshift gymnasium floor. Though the surface was naturally springy, Wil noted that Junn's step was especially light, even for the surface, his graceful build entrancing in its corporeal splendor. Abruptly, Jain and Yeri stopped their workout and extended their hands in greeting to the newcomer.

Junn's fluid humanoid form, almost feline in its movements, exuded a sense of kinesthetic perfection. Challenging Jain to a practice duel, he stepped out onto the floor, his pearlescent skin shimmering gently under the pale light, his long snowy hair flowing over his slender shoulders.

Captivated by Hedon Junn's striking white hair, pearl white complexion and his graceful, light movements, Wil Hedegaard had joined Gantor in the spectator seats as the Padawans prepared to duel on the floor. "Where did you meet him, Gantor?" Wil whispered to the Zabrak, as they watched Jain attempt, without success, to disarm the Mythlorian Padawan.

"Took him on as my Padawan learner at his request while visiting in the Koornacht cluster about a year ago," Gantor explained. "He's something isn't he? But I don't think you'll find other Mythlorians willing to let you study them though, bud. They're not too open to outsiders; I don't even know where Mythos IS. Though, Junn did tell me that he's the only one of them he knows of with the Force."

"Indeed?" Wil exclaimed. "I really must speak with him, if that is possible."

"I'm sure he won't mind," Gantor answered, falling silent for a moment, watching his Padawan disarm the hapless Jain, flinging the Tareen's lightsaber to Wil in a movement that seemed dispensed in a mere blink of an eye.

Catching the lightsaber seconds before it hit him square in the face, Wil smiled at Gantor, "What is it, bro?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Junn can communicate mentally and concentrate on several mental and physical tasks at the same time - a kind of mental multi-tasking. Not a common ability among most species," Gantor answered, shaking his head in apology.

"Not a few species have a number of habits that take a bit of getting used to. Some even have the inability to discern odors of any sort," Wil winked devilishly at Gantor, who chuckled, clapping Wil on the shoulder.

"So, let's have a look at these Padawans of ours, bud?" Gantor said. Then, bemused he asked, "Which one's yours? I didn't think the Council had decided more than one was okay."

"Oh, Jain there is Adrian's Padawan, and the girl, Yeri, is mine. I'm the teacher for them both today since Adrian and Arlyss are out doing riot control, and Patrice is with Rhyss," Wil explained, as they walked over to the sparring floor where Hedon had already proceeded to challenge Yeri. Jain sat on the floor, still bewildered at the quick disarming he had suffered at the hands of the Mythlorian Padawan.

Watching Hedon Junn disarm Yeri as quickly as he had done with Jain, Wil realized that even when the Mythlorian had just finished a highly exhausting activity, such as sparring, he didn't seem to be at all tired, nor did he perspire as humans did. Feeling something, similar to a light breeze pass in front of his face, Wil witnessed the Mythlorian's perplexed gaze at him, then watched as Hedon Junn quizzically observed Yeri and Jain as well, appearing to be sincerely puzzled at the strangeness of the human beings in front of him. Wil soon realized that Hedon had somehow communicated his thoughts to him, as if he had spoken out loud; for the first time in ages he felt inferior and a little intimidated by another being.

"Master Gantor?" Hedon Junn appeared a bit puzzled.

"Yes, all humans emit waste liquids from their skins. It is normal for them, though perhaps some of us find it a bit... well, uncomfortable. Yes, a spar would be acceptable, and I'm sure that Master Wil would not mind," Gantor replied to his Padawan, not missing a beat, glancing over to notice a somewhat discomfited Wil doffing his outer tunic, preparing to spar.

Jain and Yeri, both exhausted from their bouts with the Mythlorian Padawan, simply gaped at each other, their thoughts written on their faces. Wil, saying nothing, walked onto the floor to face Hedon, his face impassive, his stance ready. Gantor gave them both a toothy grin, and settled down next to Jain. "So, you're Adrian's Padawan learner, eh? You gotta get him to tell you some of the stuff that happened to him!" But Jain did not respond, so intent was he on the match in front of him.

Hedon Junn eyed Wil Hedegaard evenly, his bright skin shining, though not with sweat, as was Wil's rosy complexion. Circling each other, the opponents' eyes locked, Hedon's cobalt blade contrasting with the vivid verdure shades of Wil's brilliant saber. Hedon Junn made the first attack, with Wil meeting him; continually, Wil met the Padawan's attack, driving him back, but seemingly not tiring him. The conflict appeared as a three-dimensional choreography of translucent figures, each place in the space around the combatants involved in the ongoing dance of battle.

Wil would no sooner be behind Hedon than he would find the Padawan behind him again. The admonition, don't think, just do, had no better application than this present moment. Wil felt a surge of what could only be triumph through his body, as he finally caught up Hedon's saber, and held it high over his own head, surprising the Mythlorian, and, to an extent, himself.

Gantor got up, laughing heartily. "You're the first human to defeat him," he exclaimed, beaming toothily at Wil, whose profuse sweat had again captured the fascination of Hedon Junn. Yeri stood at her master's side, beaming with pride, while Jain stood on the other side of Wil, still perplexed at what he had just seen.

"Perhaps I shall not be the last," Wil remarked, glancing at Jain, then at Yeri. "What I want to know is, how many Zabraks has he defeated?"

"Those statistics are not available at the moment," Gantor snickered, interrupting Hedon Junn before he could say anything.

Wil snickered back at Gantor, then said, "Perhaps I should do some research on that!"

"When the volcanoes on Iridonia freeze over, maybe," Gantor replied pithily, "And you won't tell him anything!" he reprimanded his Padawan, when Hedon again tried to speak.


********************************


"I still can't believe you allowed a riot to erupt," Rhyss raged, his eyes searing through Patrice. "How the blazes did THAT happen?"

"Nobody ALLOWS a riot to break out," Patrice roared back at Rhyss, equally incensed. "The people here consider us invaders, not helpers. This feels wrong; we don't belong here!" Patrice stood her ground, her eyes blazing.

Though distracted, Rhyss lowered his voice to less strident tones, continuing his upbraiding of Patrice. "That is not your affair. Preventing demonstrations such as this from getting out of hand, that is your job," he grunted at her, continually smoothing his hair and pacing back and forth.

"You sense it too, Rhyss," Patrice replied, quieter, yet still urgent. "These people are a thermal detonator on a short timer. Arbitration proceedings are pointless unless a settlement can be reached within two days, and you know it."

"Why must you insist on arguing with me, woman? We are the peacekeepers of the galaxy. Without us... " Resorting to the usual bromides, Rhyss's voice had become whiny and preachy.

Interrupting the homily, Patrice replied, "Without us, they will what they want to do anyway. Jedi should devote their time and resources to people who truly want help - not forcing their aid upon those who don't give a red sarlaac's butt."

"Did someone mention my favorite pastime? Sarlaac butt watching?" Wil was exchanging crudities with Gantor in the next room.

"Did someone say he wanted to clean every refresher in this place - with his bare hands?" shot back Adrian, with a short laugh.

Wil and Gantor's probation had taken place long enough ago that Wil could laugh at their runaway trek and the consequential probationary term spent scrubbing refresher stations for a time after they had returned to the Jedi Temple.

Patrice glanced into the next room, with its merriment and laughter. They could relax, unwind. They were young; they didn't remember. She and Rhyss, on the other hand, remembered too much. "Rhyss, give it a rest. Get some sleep, and we'll try again tomorrow," Patrice said, her voice devoid of its earlier passion.

Rhyss, still agitated, stalked to the entryway of the next room. "This afternoon's events were completely uncalled for, and showed the Jedi in a very unfavorable light," he continued.

Ignoring Rhyss, Patrice walked through the entryway to Jain, who was doing some refining work on his newly completed lightsaber. She picked up the weapon and inspected it carefully, commenting, after some time, "Nice work Jain. Snugly fitted crystal. Is it a vyrym? Nice choice. I find it difficult to believe you began this saber only this morning."

"Yeri and I worked most of the morning with Master Wil on these! Well, actually, Master Adrian got me started on mine yesterday before we left, but... " Jain stopped, glimpsing Adrian's frown. Adrian indicated Rhyss, still glowering angrily in the doorway.

"Adrian. Your group has Crimson City every night for security watch patrols. Gantor, who are you and your Padawan assigned to?" Rhyss barked, ignoring the lightsaber discussion.

"We're with Master Sheredda's group, Master Rhyss," Gantor answered seriously, all levity gone from his voice.

"Please tell him to report to me, ASAP, for watch assignments," Rhyss ordered the Zabrak curtly.

Herding his Padawan out the door, Gantor glanced at Wil, something akin to regret in his large, ocher eyes, then was gone. Wil's shoulders drooped, as he regarded the forbidding Jedi Master. Rhyss always ruined everything.

"You'll always go out, at least in groups of two. Never alone. And, never, EVER, lose contact with each other. Obvious rules apply - never send Padawans out without masters... " Rhyss continued scornfully.

"They get it, Rhyss. Want them to follow each other to the 'fresher' as well?" Patrice said acerbically, her arms folded in front of her. "In case someone falls in and can't swim? "

"Patrice... " Rhyss glowered at her, making several imperious grunts before continuing. "Adrian, take any being who appears to be making trouble into immediate custody, and remand them to the local authorities for formal arrest procedures. Check the HoloNet periodically for news - on and off planet. Most of the time, it's up far more often than not. The local net should have reports of any more unrest. I want a report from you every two hours; use my personal frequency, please. Patrice, you and I are returning to the panel."

Robes sweeping about him, lightsaber swinging from his belt, Rhyss turned on his heel and headed out the door. Patrice followed him, turning only to nod once to Adrian and roll her eyes in dismay. Allowing Rhyss to leave first, she closed the door silently behind them both.

"Let's go. The sooner we get going, the better it will be. Arlyss, you're with Jan and me." Adrian made the patrol area assignments quickly, then muttered, "That was so easy. I thought, well, you know, Rhyss made it sound so... "

"Galaxy-shattering?" Wil snickered, grinning, more than a hint of irony in his voice, his blue orbs glittering.

Adrian laughed. "He makes EVERYTHING sound that way; that's why he resorts to cursing in Huttese. Let's go, guys, it isn't getting any earlier."

The group left quickly, a blur of cloaks and swinging lightsabers disappearing through the door and down the hallway. Bringing up the rear, Arlyss snapped the door shut behind her, her long cloak barely escaping its wake.


********************************


"What now, Master?" Jain asked the Adrian, his wary face turned on the broad face of the fair-haired, still-taciturn Jedi knight.

"We go to the center of Crimson City, Jain. Easy enough isn't it?" Adrian said snappishly.

Not wishing to irritate his master further, Jain trudged along, noting the many unusual business establishments along the way. A Terethian restaurant sat side by side with a designer dress shoppe that catered to beings as diverse as Gamorreans, Twi'leks, Bothans and Ithorians. Further along stood a couple of kiosks selling holo-games and other entertainment devices.

"Interesting place, isn't it, master?" Jain ventured gingerly at the reticent Adrian.

"About as interesting as most, I suppose," Adrian commented brusquely.

Entering a large square, Jain noticed the crowds beginning to thicken, with a greater variety of beings. Vibrations in the Force, as well as the stimuli from the outer environment became more arousing, though not disturbingly so. Many buildings flashed lights, and displays of various products advertised. It appeared to be a theater district, with some gaming houses as well. The pair ambled slowly about to the front of an oddly painted building, when Jain stopped abruptly in front of its door.

"Master! This... this looks almost like Ja'relian lettering. I... I think I know what it says... " the Padawan ventured again.

"Yes?" Adrian felt a vague disquiet as he peered at the front of the building. The establishment next door, a large, garish building done up in neon and day-glo paint sported a giant flashing sign that read, in Basic, 'The Idiot's Array'. It appeared to be closed, yet... something felt out of kilter.

"It looks Ja'relian! But I can't make it out," Jain muttered in frustration.

"I don't know the language, whatever it is, "Adrian replied evenly, "It's probably a private club or something. Let's move on and return later."

As Adrian and Jain turned to pass the building, Jain brushed against a robed figure furtively hurrying away from the building.

"Excuse me," Jain blurted out, grabbing the robed being abruptly. "Could you tell me what this sign says?"

Seizing its arm away from Jain, it gargled and hissed, snorting with some amusement, "Can't you read? It says Lair of the Sith Witch Burlesque Club! What would a pair of Jedi wanna go in there for?" Snickering furtively to itself, the hurried away without acknowledging Jain's profuse thanks, or Adrian's hastily concealed chortles.

Then a sudden cold gripped Adrian about his heart, filling his whole being. He gasped inaudibly as he tried to calm himself but to no avail. It was the same feeling as during the riot, the rapidly beating heart, followed by a sense of foreboding, of something horrific to come. He still felt a sense of familiarity with the sensation, as if he had experienced it previously, either with a person or an event. He just couldn't remember.

"Master, are you alright?" he heard Jain say, but the sound reaching his ears seemed to come from so far away. The sensation filled his mind. He turned towards his Padawan as calmly as he could, looking at his worried expression for a while before he slowly assured him that he was all right.

Adrian had known ever since his dream of being king that some appalling crisis was just below the horizon and that he was the pivotal figure involved. But what could it be? Why now, far away, in the Elrood sector? What could this possibly have to do with Kiria?

Shaking his head, a vain attempt at best to shake the dread sensation, Adrian caught Jain by the arm, and pulled him away from the burlesque club. Whatever it was, standing around gaping at a sign all night wasn't going to be the key to solving the mystery.

"Your master, ol' Wil Hedegaard sure has a lot of nerve," Jain snorted at Yeri, as they trudged back to their quarters in the rear section of the hotel. As the novelty of their situation had worn off, tempers had shortened considerably. Wil, relegated to instructing both Padawans daily, had come down especially hard on the two Padawans since the sparring match with Hedon Junn. Jain now received the brunt of the criticism. Jain found this most uncomfortable, to Yeri's considerable amusement.

"He knows more than you do. He could kick that Mythlorian's sorry ass. And he can fly, something you don't seem able to do," she said, more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"If I grew up in the Jedi temple and stayed there my whole life, I'd know just about everything too," Jain snarled.

"And just what do you mean by that, hot shot?" she shot back at him heatedly.

"He's always coming on like some überJedi, like he's so damned perfect. I don't need everybody in the whole Jedi Order telling me what to do. Master Adrian's working me over just fine after morning training, thank you very much!"

"Looks to me like you need all the help you can get, kiddo," Yeri purred, as she nodded her head and slunk away towards the quarters she shared with Arlyss.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Lady," Jain snorted angrily at her back, as he turned on his heel and stomped back towards his own quarters. He paced moodily in front of the door, wondering where he could have left his missing passkey. He was interrupted by a grasping hand on his arm, and a familiar voice. It was Wil Hedegaard.

Turning the Padawan to face him, Wil intoned quietly, "If you have something to say to me, say it to my face."

Jain lowered his voice to an ominous whisper. "You can't possibly know what it's like to live in constant fear, what with the looting mobs, marauding soldiers... You've been with the Jedi Order your whole life, sheltered from reality outside the Temple and the Academy. There's even a rumor going around on Ja'rel that you didn't prevent Carsten Hedegaard from killing our queen, because he's your brother." Jain's eyes bored pure hatred into the Jedi's very center.

Wil peered at Jain, stung by the young Padawan's remarks. "No, I've never lost a loved one... " Wil whispered tonelessly, releasing the gaping Padawn, slipping past him, down the hall to his quarters, his body wraith-like, silent in the empty hallway. He slid noiselessly into his quarters, and closed the door behind him.

"Jain." Jain was jolted out of his thoughtless reverie by Adrian's soft voice. "What is it, Jain?"

"It's Master Wil and I... I... well, I guess we don't get on so well. I mean, I don't get on so well with most. But he and I... well, you know Yeri is Shoo'an and I'm Tareen. I don't care for her much, and, then, well, he's so... so perfect. How can anyone be so... so perfect... have such a perfect life, so carefree... " Jain stuttered, his anger all too obvious to Adrian.

"You do realize he's Ja'relian?" Adrian interjected gently, motioning for Jain to join him on a small wooden bench that Jain noticed for the first time.

"What?" This time it was Jain's turn to be shocked, as he seated himself beside his master.

"His mother and their entire village were murdered when he was a boy. He and his brother watched the whole thing," Adrian explained gently to the shocked Padawan.

"By the gods... " Jain gasped, his eyes wide with horror.

"Tareen soldiers committed the atrocity under direct orders... from Her Majesty Queen Benefreren herself,"

"That can't be true... the queen was... " Jain began, bewildered, but stopped.

Adrian shook his head, an expression of deep pain spreading from his liquid hazel eyes throughout his broad handsome face. He took a deep breath, and continued. "At first, Patrice and I thought the story completely apocryphal. Later, when we discovered the Shamunai, realizing they had remained hidden from both the Shoo'an and Tareen for so long, possibly thousands of years, we found out that they possessed completely unbiased records of the actions of both sides. The evidence that the crime had been committed was irrefutable."

"You make it sound so... so detached, like a history lesson, master!" Jain cried distraught, his face a ruddy, blotched assortment of shades. "These are my people we're talking about!"

"And Wil's... and Yeri's... and many others, Jain. Before you judge Wil too harshly, you may also wish to know a little something else Patrice and I found out from the Shamunai," Adrian said his voice now a whisper.

"What could possibly make me reconsider how I feel?" Jain's impassioned voice dropped into a hissing murmur.

"In one of the last battles fought before the Truce of the Shamunai - in fact the last battle above ground - Wil and his friend Gantor risked their own lives to defend the horribly undermanned Tareen royal citadel against the vastly superior Shoo'an Imperial Army. In fact, the Shoo'an would undoubtedly have overrun the citadel and taken the queen had it not been for them. Unfortunately, their bravery has never been officially recognized by the Jedi Order."

"Why not, master?" Jain asked, his anger forgotten in his overweening curiosity.

"They were AWOL knights; Patrice and I were sent to find them," Adrian answered curtly.

"I... I see," Jain stammered, startled at the mass of contradictions his feelings had suddenly become.

"You do? I hope so. Anger... hatred? Entire systems have spent millennia mired in darkness and ignorance because of the turmoil spawned by these emotions. And you have just experienced their results on a very personal level. Meditate a long time on this, Jain. A whole people can't be blamed for the wrong-doings of a few!" Adrian intoned sternly, as he stood up, walked over to the door and opened it, motioning for the Padawan to follow him.

Inclining his head, Jain followed his master in silence.


********************************


Wil regarded the canvas in front of him critically, holding the paint quill a few inches from it, deep in thought as he compared the mural he was painting of a Crimson City scene to his first preliminary sketches that sat on an easel to his right. Just what was he trying to illustrate here? Anyone could paint pictures of buildings and beings, he decided; the real trick was to capture the life and essence of the city itself, the soul of its culture, society and people in color and form.

Hearing the door chime, he remained at his easel and called out, "Come in!" His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes practically crossed, Wil continued to compare his preliminaries with his main work, trying to figure out what was missing. Yeri walked up behind him, her question dying on her lips as his answer anticipated it.

"He is no concern of yours; Master Adrian is training him well. Leave the anger and hate behind, my Padawan. It does not become you to indulge yourself in these things," Wil admonished Yeri.

"But... he is so... " Unable to adequately describe Jain's words, she looked at the floor as Wil continued.

"Yeri. He is not your concern. Now," Wil got up from his easel, and put the quill and paints away in the desk. He saw the look of disappointment on Yeri's face as he did so. "You like painting also?" he asked her.

"Yes, master, very much. I used to paint when I was small. But... but nothing like this!" Yeri's eyes shone with admiration. Wil smiled, and turned the easel towards the window.

"It still lacks... err... something. It needs to be, somehow, more alive," he murmured, moving the easel in the sunlight, its amber glow melting into a more mellow golden hue.

Yeri pursed her lips some, then said, "Perhaps some of the shoppes we saw in the Crimson City Quarter, master. Or that funny showplace, the... err... Lair of the Sith Witch, was it?" she smiled at him.

"That place?" Wil grinned. "It would definitely make the painting a conversation piece then!" Seizing an opportunity, Wil fell serious. "Yeri, you do know what sort of place The Lair of the Sith Witch is, don't you?"

"Of course I do, master. I mean, we do have those sorts of places on Ja'rel, even though I never went around them," she grinned.

"I should hope not," Wil said sharply, then left the easel at the window, and summoned his lightsaber, which had lain on the dresser. "We need to get back to your saber training. Just because we are on assignment doesn't mean you are allowed to get behind in your learning."

"Yes master," Yeri called her saber to her obediently, the saber zinging across the room to her from the table-top.

Quickly arranging the furniture to give them some room, Wil challenged Yeri. She met his attack, their discordant colors of sapphire and emerald clashing in radiant sparks. The hissing of blades increased, as Yeri refused to give, Wil pressing his attacks, Yeri continuing to lock her saber with his each time.

"Interlocking your lightsaber with your opponent's is a move highly likely to result in injury, as well as damage to your saber; it is best avoided," Wil noted as Yeri struggled to counter his attacks. "Again," he ordered, swinging his own saber towards her in a slow, controlled movement, "Parry: up-up-down, without locking sabers."

Yeri did as she was told, blocking Wil's oncoming blows continually, her brow furrowing with concentration as she met attack after attack, moving quickly once she had him blocked, in order to shield herself, yet not allow a new attack. She grinned widely in triumph when she finally got it right.

"This time a little faster." Yeri could detect the smallest of grins on Wil's face.

Yeri worked her saber faster, Wil continuing to avert her moves. They panted and puffed, stopping only when the buzz rang for the door.

"You are fast improving in form one saber work, as well as your beginnings in form two. Very nice, Yeri. Very good workout today," Wil stated, a bit absentmindedly, as if his mind were already anticipating the next item on the day's schedule. Yeri let it rest, clipping her de-ignited saber to her belt, and moving behind her master to the door.

The door opened and Gantor strode into the room, his mouth closed over his usual toothy grin. "Wil, you really oughta open a window after saber practice," the Zabrak remarked, noting the smoke clouding the room, before getting to the real reason for his visit. "Master Sheredda and our group have been called back to Coruscant, probably for reassignment; we're leaving in a couple of hours. I just came to say goodbye, and to let you know we'd catch you back at the Temple, bro."

Clipping the de-ignited saber to his belt, Wil looked at Gantor, his blue eyes wide and melancholy. Catching the Zabrak in an intense hug, he closed his eyes tightly against the discordant realities that kept invading the sanctuary of his inner consciousness.


********************************


The gentle pale of the early afternoon sun filtered itself lazily through the thick leafy trees of the Avenue Roi, widest thoroughfare of the artisan's sector of Orrida Dedonne. Adrian's small company of Jedi strolled languidly down the promenade towards Sixxa Park. Adrian was well aware of the many stares they were receiving, most curious, some hostile, a tiny number attempting to conceal violent intent. There were too many conflicting emotions bouncing about to sift them all through the Force, he thought ruefully, concerned for the safety of these young Jedi who were out for a rare break from patrols.

Glancing at Wil, he noticed some lines creasing his friend's normally smooth forehead above deep sapphire eyes. 'Gantor,' Adrian thought, 'Wil misses Gantor. Those two really should have been sent back to Coruscant together.' But, Rhyss would never give up any of the people assigned to him if he could possibly help it. He seemed to have a special interest in keeping Wil nearby, according to Patrice. Adrian dismissed the thought; probably no more than just speculation on her part.

It was the first time any of them had had a chance to venture out for pleasure. Arlyss had brought along a small basket packed with a few sandwiches and some native brykka fruit, as well as several flasks of juice. Wil carried a large blanket folded up in a knapsack on his back. Even Yeri and Jain seemed to have forgotten their rivalry, and were joshing back and forth. The group could not have asked for better weather; no cloud ventured across the ambient sky, its pallidity indicating continued good weather.

"Why don't we go whole gundark, and get a bottle of Renan Wine?" Wil suggested. "This little shoppe looks just the place to have it," he added, indicating a small, hole-in-the wall café that sported a single table outside, umbrella atop it, a resident bohemian of indeterminate species sipping a glass of something, as he sat eyeing the prospective customers cagily.

"I like that idea," Arlyss put in. "Adrian?"

"Sure, why not? No more patrols until 2000 tonight; one bottle shouldn't cause any problems.

The group stopped in front of the shoppe, Wil entering to look about for the desired variety of spirits. Jain noticed several occupied tables in the back of the shoppe, and warily indicated them to Adrian.

Glancing towards the rear of the narrow stretch of room, Adrian quickly took in some of the clientele. "Good work, Jain," he whispered. Nodding to Arlyss and Yeri, he hissed, "Get out of here; this isn't a good place. Wil... Wil! Let's go! No need... "

It was too late. Wil had found a bottle of choice vintage and brought it to the owner for purchase. As he fumbled in the pocket of his tunic for credits to pay for the wine, an elderly Vryjyk ambled towards him, obviously the worse for the spirits he had been imbibing.

"Why're you peopling interferin' in ever'thing?" the oldster croaked, his alcohol-tinged breath singing Wil's nostrils, as he fought to k