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 keep from inhaling the putrid odor. Attempting to turn away and ignore the interloper, Wil continued to fumble for change.

The drunk continued his mocking diatribe, oblivious of those about him. "Ever'where you Jedi go, it's the same thing - 'We are auth'rized by the New Republic and the officials of your peoples to 'sist you in reachin' a set'ment that will be ben'ficial to both y'r parties.' He assumed a strutting, duck-like posture, to the great amusement of a number of the other patrons.

Wil brought out his credits, and began counting them. A small crowd had begun to form around the drunk, listening with some interest to his impromptu oratory.

Adrian had herded the others further from the shoppe to wait inobtrusively for Wil to exit when a woman shoved the drunk aside, interrupting his harangue. Unfortunately for the Jedi, she had not been drinking. Mounting one of the outdoor tables, she began an impromptu speech punctuated by yelps and howls from her audience, who had also moved outside.

"You Jedi are dangerous vigilantes. Where ever you go there's always some nut-case who puts somebody in danger just to provoke you. You're nothing but filth: you attract the worst nightmare scum of the Universe. On top of it all, you're never the ones who get hurt by it!"

Several patrons cried out in agreement.

"Yeah, they dinnant do squats to help us when them Vongs roamed rampant!" a cry was heard.

An Elmasian shook his clawed fist angrily, slamming it down on his table, knocking his food and drink to the floor. Several other patrons began jumping up and yelling. A chant began ringing out, barely audible, then rising into, "Je-di OUT! Je-di OUT!"

In the clamor to join the demonstration outside, one of the patrons leaving the bar shoved Wil roughly to the floor. The agitation inside and outside the shoppe rose to fever pitch; a number of patrons had crowded around Wil, who was still on the floor. Seeing another Vryjyk stepping towards Wil, Yeri moved to go back into the shoppe to assist her master, Jain close on her heels, both of them grappling to ignite their lightsabers. However, Wil looked over at them and shook his head; Adrian and Arlyss held them back, preventing them from entering the shoppe.

"Ooh, da little Jed-ei is scared," the tall Vryjyk who had knocked him to the floor boomed mockingly, "Watcha gonna do, bring yore friends in here, kick my ass?" Mocking laughter echoed throughout the shoppe.

Looking up at the Vryjyk, Wil answered, "We are not here to tell people what to do, nor are we here to solve problems with violence. Your governments must decide ultimately how to solve the problems. The Jedi are merely here to make sure that no one gets hurt."

"You expects me to believe tat?" the Vryjyk boomed, as onlookers continued taunting Wil on the sidelines.

"I don't expect you to believe anything," Wil said quietly, yet firmly as he got up from the floor, dusting himself off. Leaving the wine on the counter and his credits scattered on the floor, Wil strode quietly out the door, not looking back.

Adrian herded the group away from the café quickly, saying nothing, his eyes watching Jain and Yeri tensely for any renewed signs of action against the crowd. After a brief stop at an outdoor kiosk further on for some juri juice, they all were quiet and thoughtful, remaining alert until they reached the park.

Arlyss and Wil spread the blanket on a grassy patch, and set up the lunch silently. Adrian sat down on a corner of the blanket, facing opposite the direction from which they had come, his head and arms propped on his knees, his eyes closed. Arlyss sat down next to him, picked up a sandwich, set it down again, and gazed out at the park. Wil stretched out on the other end of the blanket to rest, his appetite gone after the altercation in the shoppe.

"Don't you think we should have taken out our lightsabers and taught them all a lesson in there, huh?" Yeri shot at Jain, as they continued walking, away from the picnic site, into a wooded area of the park. Jain appeared to ignore her, watching a small, carmine-furred irriyuk scamper about on the verdant ground cover looking for food.

"Well?" she insisted, the irritation growing in her voice.

"Huh?" Jain finally responded, turning to her, his gaze distracted from the irriyuk, as it dashed over a stout outcropping of rock and out of sight.

"You didn't hear a single word I said," Yeri muttered, disappointment mixed with resentment.

"Sorry. Got distracted," Jain mumbled, tossing out a couple of seeds from his pocket, hoping to coax the elusive rodent from its hiding place.

"Distractibility - not a good quality in a Jedi," Yeri prodded at him.

"Well, maybe I won't make such a hot Jedi," Jain stalked away, giving up on the irriyuk.

"Well, if you weren't trying to cut up everyone all the time, it might help!" Yeri snorted derisively.

"Well, I wasn't the one who led the charge into that shoppe, sweety. And, it sure would beat letting those tweaks walk all over us all the time," Jain fumed. "At least I would be doing something, since Adrian won't let me fly anymore. What else isn't allowed?"

"You're whining," Yeri mocked.

"You aren't the one who has been told not to fly anymore by your master," Jain's baleful tone had become positively mournful.

"Well, you almost got him killed getting here!" Yeri snickered.

"He threw up! You'd think a Jedi... " Jain threw his hands up, in disgust. "You don't care anyway. You probably never flew anything in your life. Daddy's little girl, whiling her time away in her stuffy little rose-colored bedroom with the flower motif... waiting for her rich boyfriend in the army to come home from slaughtering Tareens... " he taunted back at her.

"WHAT!! You know NOTHING, Jain Kiinsgaard, NOTHING!!" They had moved beyond the range of the others, into a wooded terrain thick with vegetation, peppered with rock outcroppings. Yeri grabbed the back of his robes roughly, ripping his hood's stitching.

"What are you doing?" Jain shouted at her.

"Making you face me and say that stuff!" Yeri cried at him, as she forced him around.

"I'll say whatever I want. You know it's true," He moved quickly back at her, grabbing her shoulders, shoving her hard into a nearby tree, locking her to him in battle, "You only ended up at the Jedi Academy because you have a rich daddy and... " Before he knew what he was doing their lips interlocked in a passionate kiss, silencing both arguments.

THWOMP! Yeri whacked Jain hard in the solar plexus with her hard fist. Staggering backwards, he nearly lost his footing in the rust-colored dirt. Grabbing a ryss-covered outcropping for support, he lunged towards her again. Yeri's anger made her appear even taller, larger among the giant trees, almost one of them.

"How dare you kiss me!?" In mid-screech, Yeri reached for Jain in mid-lunge, and to his surprise, pulled him to her, kissing him hard on the lips.

Breaking off the kiss, Jain looked at her, muttering, "Leave me alone. I don't like fast women." Only to embrace her, kissing her sporadically on her lips, the tip of her nose, her cheekbones and her chin, while Yeri began to nibble at his ear.

"And I hate arrogant men," Yeri retorted, her defenses crumbling. About to give in to their feelings, they heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. In a rapid, unison move they spun around to face the disturbance, and were met by an enormous, obviously pleased Vryjyk leaning casually against a tree.

"Oh, don' let me stoppa yous," he chuckled in rough basic, as he regarded the youngsters with some amusement. "I likes da show!"

Being suddenly aware of the person of their audience, as well as the jittery sensation of being caught in the act of their illicit liaison, they both blushed furiously. Pulling away from each other frenetically, they glared furiously at the Vryjyk, still lounging lazily against the tree, an amused grimace on his rough face.

Hurriedly grabbing up their recently discarded, dusty robes, pushing past the snickering Vryjyk, Jain and Yeri dashed back through the wood to rejoin the others. There was no need to swear an oath of silence; neither had the desire to find out what would happen should their dalliance be discovered.

"Jain, Yeri, you almost went back hungry!" Arlyss called, smiling, holding out a plate of sandwiches, which was quickly taken from her by the Padawans. "Adrian was about to eat your sandwiches, weren't you?

The dark-haired female Jedi was smiling at the broad-shouldered Adrian, who lay stretched out on the blanket, apparently sleeping.

"Never seen him eat while sleeping before. 'Course, there always is a first time for everything," Wil grinned, the earlier altercation with the shoppe patrons ostensibly forgotten. He poked at the long, lanky form sprawled out on the blanket.

Adrian jumped bolt upright, and lurched into a standing position, looking about wide-eyed, pretending to grasp a make-believe lightsaber, an exaggerated feral expression on his face. At this ignominious display, Arlyss and Wil both burst out laughing, then began rolling all over the blanket and ground, pulling Adrian down with them.

Jain and Yeri exchanged a fleeting glance before sitting down on the grass a bit away from the others, observing them.

"Fine examples of the Jedi Order. They are all barking mad," Jain observed pithily.

Adrian jumped out of the three-person-tussle long enough to regard the two Padawans wildly, evilly, then went back to the brawl. The blanket enveloped the three Jedi knights, a giant cocoon rolling wildly about on the grass, a fitting asylum for the temporarily deranged.

Yeri, realizing her proximity to Jain, icily stared him down, then abruptly got up and moved over to the other side of the jostling group, muttering under her breath, "Why am I talking to you?"


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


The door of the suite creaked open, admitting five weary Jedi. Adrian stalked in dejectedly, chucked his comm-link on the table, and collapsed into the nearest chair. Jain flopped down upon a cushion, and Wil collapsed on a tidy daybed in the far corner of the room. Yeri sat down dejectedly on a small stool near the kitchen, where Arlyss was preparing hot Chandrilan and Jeru tea for the group.

"Adrian?" Patrice ventured cautiously.

Adrian looked up at his friend and former master, his eyes betraying the mélange of emotions he felt. Wordlessly, Patrice continued editing her report to the New Republic Senate. Arlyss came in from the kitchen, a steaming crock of tea and several mugs on a tray balanced in her hands.

"This should help some, Adrian," Arlyss said to him, as she set the tray on the table. "Patrice, I still cannot believe some of the stuff we've been getting. They even put children out there, protesting, throwing rocks, bottles and other trash at the opposition. We must have broken up, oh, at least twenty fights tonight."

"Twenty seven," Adrian muttered, nursing his tea, staring dejectedly at the table.

"I'm not a waitress. If the rest of you lot want tea, you can get it yourself," Arlyss stated, setting the tea tray down on the table in front of Adrian. Sitting in the empty chair next to Adrian, she took the report Patrice had just finished reading, and scanned it soundlessly, nodded, then handed it back to her.

Across the room, Yeri stretched her arm out motioning a cup of tea towards herself, but to her surprise it didn't budge from the tray. With a surprised look she concentrated again, but still nothing.

"Yeri!" Wil said sternly, "You should not use the Force to serve your personal laziness. Go over to the table and get your tea. The regular way."

Unruffled by Wil's stern reproach, Yeri got up, avoiding looking at anyone and fetched her tea, with Jain right behind her. As both Padawans reached for a cup, their hands gently brushed over each other resulting in both quickly pulling their hands back, almost knocking the tea service over. Flashing apologetic smiles around the room, they both grabbed a cup and quickly returned to their seats.

Patrice smiled, then said, "Rhyss should be coming along anytime now to pick this up. He's headed back to the panel tonight to continue the talks. We nearly had another settlement hammered out, then the Vryj decided that acceding to the demands for a religious observance every so often for the Elmasians was out."

"A religious observance? We didn't hear anything about that," Arlyss said, puzzled.

Patrice grinned, and muttered, as Rhyss stormed into the room, "Neither did we."

"Is that report ready, Patrice? I have to send it off tonight, along with my proposal for a new settlement," he stated portentously.

"Your proposal for a new settlement?" Patrice regarded Rhyss with an expression that fluctuated between contempt and incredulity. "As if you jumping further into this fray would make a difference," she sighed, leaning back in her chair, sipping on her tea, then leaning forward, fingering the holo-pad once more, adjusting something in her report. "Rhyss, when will you realize that nothing we can possibly propose will be noticed at all by either of these parties? They don't want our help."

"And what sort of intimate knowledge has been given you concerning these affairs now?" Rhyss asked defensively, for once forgetting to insist on protocol in front of the others.

Sighing with frustration, Patrice sipped her tea again, then began what she knew was a useless explanation. "We have sat there, day after day, observing these proceedings. Each time items are proposed for settlement, one or both sides come up with some excuse to falter the proposal. Worse are the few times they have agreed to a 'settlement' only to shoot it down with last minute amendments or some other nonsense. Rhyss, we cannot be galactic police for a bunch of state-supported gangsters. Furthermore, we are Jedi, NOT a diplomatic corps for the Senate!"

"Back on your usual tack, are you?" Rhyss turned away from her and sipped a cup of kafé he had brought in with him. The others were watching the two attentively. Even Adrian, used to his old master's contentiousness, had become more alert, as if the room had suddenly become charged with explosive material.

"It has happened in the past, Rhyss. The Jedi have been caught off guard by becoming involved in such "diplomatic" matters. Look what happened when they allowed themselves to be manipulated into brokering the dispute between Naboo and the Trade Federation back during the Old Republic. Look what THAT led to! Then, there was Luke Skywalker inviting non-Jedi to join the Jedi Council during the Yuuzhan Vong Wars! Fortunately, that dreadful mistake was remedied before it could further politicize the order."

"Patrice," Rhyss countered. "I do not have time to refute your history lesson, I'm afraid. For now, everyone get to bed; patrols resume at dawn. I, for one, shall be up late; there are matters I must attend to." With a brisk flourish of his massive robes, he left the room, his half-drunk cup of kafé left sitting on the table. The four Jedi and two Padawans regarded each other in tense silence for a moment.

Without warning, Rhyss' kafé cup, contents and all, zoomed across the room - ker-plunk! - landing in the kitchen waste can with a metallic thud. Adrian grinned at the mischievously winking Patrice, then got up to leave for his own quarters, motioning Jain to follow him. Wil had quietly left the room without anyone noticing. Arlyss and Yeri stood by the door saying nothing, awaiting Adrian's orders.

"He's right about one thing: you need your rest. You are working very hard and doing the very best anyone could expect. I commend you all. You have dawn patrol, so make sure you get some breakfast. I shall be joining Rhyss again at 0600 local time, so I may not see you for a while. Blessings, all," Patrice nodded to the departing Jedi.

Adrian nodded back, smiled again, then allowed the others to slip out the door, indicating that Jain should go on to their quarters. He glanced out to make sure the others had left before closing the door behind them, then he turned back to face Patrice.

"Cute stunt. Not the best example for the Padawans, you know," he quipped.

"Well, it's kind of like being a grandmother, in a way," Patrice grinned slyly. "I spoil them with fancy lightsaber combat and Force tricks, then send them back to you for harsh discipline and saber building,"

Adrian shook his head, and chuckled, despite himself. "My times with you were some of my best times as a Jedi - and some of the worst! But, Patrice, how do you stand working with Rhyss? Do you ever accomplish anything?" he asked, puzzled.

"Sometimes, yes. So far, together with the other delegates, we have put together six separate settlement packages. The Vryj and the Elmasians have found some flimsy excuse to turn down every single one of them," Patrice explained, a tinge of frustration coming through in her voice.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Adrian said, eyeing her shrewdly.

"So do I," Patrice said, allowing her fatigue to show at last. She could sense Adrian wanted tell her something, perhaps something related to the mission, perhaps something personal. However, those days were past when she had felt comfortable pushing him with the Force in order to learn what she needed in order to assist him. Now, it was his responsibility to tell her what was on his mind.

"In the past, you would break rules and I would wonder why," he looked back at her, his amber eyes wide. "But now, it makes a lot of sense. People here grow more and more restless," he sighed, his face pale under the light of the table lamp. "Their resentment is directed more towards us than the Vryjyks and the Elmasians."

"There is more going on than a dispute between two different cultures, don't you think?" Patrice ventured, still resisting the urge to draw out her former apprentice.

"Something more than pitting raging capitalistic rancors against religious zealot nexus? I don't know. My people and I just have to keep from getting beat up out there. It's the negotiations that are really going to destroy us all. See you sometime tomorrow, Patrice," Adrian shrugged, opened the door, and slipped noiselessly into the shadowy hallway.

'I know there is something bothering him. He will have to tell me eventually.' Patrice dimmed the lights in the suite, then headed for the back room, sat down on the soft cushions, closed her eyes, and allowed the Force to flow.


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


The carmine morning sky, punctuated by tufts of amber clouds provided a translucent canopy for the waking city of Orrida Dedonne. The skyway and ground traffic was buzzing about the many-tiered buildings of the city. Jedi patrols had already fanned out over the city. Jain grimaced miserable over at Adrian when his stomach rumbled audibly, making the need for repast obvious to them both.

"Wil, where is Yeri?" Adrian asked, puzzled, as he and Jain approached the sandy-haired Jedi sitting alone at the outdoor café tables set up outside The Idiot's Array. Wil and Yeri, having come upon the place a few days earlier, had chosen it for a rendezvous spot due to its central location. Adrian chuckled to himself, recalling his and Jain's recent experiences at the establishment next door.

"Oh, she said she needed to go over to the market place in the plaza and do some shopping, I think," Wil answered casually. "Arlyss went with her; she said she needed some supplies." Wil returned to his drink, a large mug of dark, steaming liquid.

Adrian paled as he regarded what was a rather cavalier dismissal of an apprentice. "Wil, do you think it was wise to allow her to go off like that?" he asked, keeping his voice even.

"Oh, she's fine. Arlyss is with her, I don't sense anything unusual here and, for the most part, this is an upper-class commercial district. These merchants don't want business disrupted. Better than the part of town we went to yesterday. Besides, I have her wearing a small tracker," Wil answered, sipping his drink. "It monitors her movements when she's away from me. If she gets into any trouble, I'll know immediately. Now, this jemapress is reputed to be the best in the sector. They also carry great Jawa juice, and an impressive array of entrées. If you guys will sit down, I'll buy!"

Adrian and Jain seated themselves at the small table with Wil, who ordered the jemapress, as well as breakfasts for Jain and Adrian. Despite Wil's reassurances, Adrian couldn't help but feel uneasy. He recalled only too well, his own apprenticeship, and the dangers he fell into, despite Patrice's constant vigilance.

"I still do not think it wise to allow her to go off without you. This is not exactly friendly territory, and, Arlyss, well, I'm also concerned for her as well," Adrian admonished Wil mildly. "This establishment and some of its neighbors aren't all that respectable."

"Not to worry, master; they're back," Jain piped up, interrupting Wil before he could argue with Adrian. The three Jedi turned to the pair approaching their table.

"Hey, Arlyss, Yeri," called Wil, "Get your shopping done?"

"Hey yourself," Arlyss greeted Wil and Jain, then peering at Adrian, a question on her lips.

Adrian frowned slightly, and asked, "Something wrong, Arlyss?"

Arlyss gave a light, musical laugh, and nodded at the chair at his side. "Nothing is wrong, Master Adrian. I was just wondering if that chair was taken."

Unsuccessful at suppressing a blush, Adrian brushed off the chair, and pulled it out for her. "No, of course not."

Arlyss took her seat, while Yeri sat down between Wil and Jain. Jain shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Wil did not appear to notice.

"Unfortunately, Master, I was unable to find much of anything that was a bargain. It seems this sector is something of a tourist trap," Yeri complained.

"These places always are," Arlyss agreed. "I normally don't do a great deal of shopping on most missions. I hate it when I come across people like that stingy Ruundarian you were bargaining with in that one stall! What was he selling?"

"It's hard to say; his Basic was terrible," Yeri giggled. Wil motioned to the waiter, a small, nimble Vryjyk, for a round of jemapress for the new arrivals. Jain, Wil and Arlyss sat back, laughing as Yeri regaled them about the colorful merchants of the Crimson City market.

'Yeri seems to have impressed her master,' Adrian thought, 'enough that Wil didn't have a problem with her going off on her own. Of course, she was with Arlyss, but what if something had happened to both of them?' Adrian knew he was worrying too much, but despite increased patrols, incidents were more frequent, injuries more numerous and the Jedi had, he thought, become the primary targets.

Then there was Arlyss herself. Adrian could not stop thinking about the petite dark-haired, brown-eyed Jedi. What he did sense, as he found his attentions drawn to her again and again, was her intensity, her love of others, her love of life, of living, of the Force itself. Her impassioned defense of Wil during the hearings at the Jedi Council had been so heart-felt, he wondered about their personal relationship. He had never sensed any sort of relationship between her and Wil, simply a comfortable friendship. Adrian realized the time had come to consider his situation. His ascension to the throne of Kiria was no longer years away, but in six months. Perhaps the law concerning royal marriage could be changed...

"Adrian?" A voice woke him from his thoughts rather sharply.

"Yes?" Adrian answered, awakened abruptly from his daydream.

"Do you think I might steal your apprentice and take him and Yeri for some saber practice back at the hotel?" Wil asked. "I'm concerned that neither of them are practicing enough. The guys from over on Clak d'Or VII are still around, along with some of the Eriadu group that didn't go with Master Sheredda and Gantor."

"Sure. Arlyss and I can manage; not a lot going on right now." Turning to Jain, Adrian whispered, "You could use an extra day of saber practice with Master Wil. Be especially mindful of the techniques we worked on in this morning's practice."

"Yes, master," Jain replied, his drooping form already following, though not too closely, behind Wil and Yeri. Adrian watched nervously as his apprentice slowly vanished around a far corner of the marketplace.

"So, you think today will be quiet? After last night?" Arlyss regarded him with a whimsical smirk.

"They need their practice - and some rest. There's not much more anyone can do right now. This situation isn't going to improve because we're out here. In fact, I'm beginning to think Patrice may be right; we don't belong here," Adrian said dispiritedly.

"Still, we do have a job to do," Arlyss averred, rising from her seat "Adrian?"

"Yes?" Adrian curled his hand about his cup, and remained in his chair.

Shrugging, Arlyss sat back down. They were quiet for a few moments, content to watch the passersby. Then Arlyss looked over at Adrian, a slight frown on her face. "Are you going to leave... I mean, the order... when this is over? You told me when I first met you that eventually you would leave the order, return to your people, and become their king."

"Hmmm?" Adrian sat up abruptly, his eyes studying her face. "Yes, I am. I didn't know when I first became a Jedi about that, you know. The Jedi simply came to Kiria, got me, and took me to Yavin IV and trained me. I found out later that I would have to leave the order to rule my people."

"That sounds so... so... " Arlyss seemed to be searching for words.

"I know. Rather archaic that any civilization would still have such quaint customs, isn't it?" Adrian smiled. "The Hapans still do that; many of the worlds in the Galaxy do. You just don't hear much about it, since kings aren't normally Jedi," he grinned.

"Now, we can't have a Jedi dynasty, can we?" Arlyss teased Adrian, the serious mood between them broken. They rose, refreshed, to commence the afternoon patrol. "That was what some of the founders of the New Republic were afraid of in the first place!"


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


Returning from lunch, Patrice hurried through the door, realizing she had overheard all she could; the speakers had noticed her stop, head cocked, sporting Jedi robes. One thing she had never been much of was a spy.

Plopping clumsily into her chair, Patrice leaned across the table towards Rhyss tossing him a Knechtu sandwich, "You said you wanted to be informed whenever anyone heard the slightest rumor of a riot being planned. Well, my lunch just got ruined, or... at least, interrupted by unplanned eavesdropping."

Ignoring Patrice's customary irony, Rhyss queried, "Got a timeframe?"

"Not really. Just approximations. Supposed to occur tomorrow in Crimson City. Probably a decoy for another riot at the arbitration panel meeting; they'd seen me by then." Patrice grimaced at this failing of hers.

Nodding, Rhyss continued, "We will simply have to be ready when they make their move. The patrols will be down there in full force. Besides, we have other problems."

"What else has happened?" Patrice sighed.

"I just received a HoloNet transmission," Rhyss whispered. "The water on Coruscant was discovered to have been poisoned with vayndron approximately two days after our departure. Studies indicate that the vayndron was placed in the water supply at the main source of supply for the Jedi Temple, and was planted in a time-release mechanism. We suspect opponents of the arbitration panel efforts to be behind this deed, most likely some Elmasian religious extremists or a Vryjyk terrorist group. Steps are being taken to apprehend the culprits."

Patrice muttered angrily, wondering who would have been able to get hold of vayndron, and stranger still, who would have been able to afford it. The drug had been developed by sympathizers of the Yuuzhan Vong to deprive Jedi of their powers by paralyzing the midichlorians on the cellular level. Though its effects wore off after a few hours if only one dose was given, it was highly effective with that one dose. With repeated doses, Jedi would lose their powers long enough for all sorts of mischief to occur. Whoever had poisoned the water on Coruscant had been able to obtain enough vayndron to disable practically every Jedi alive in the galaxy for weeks, maybe even months. Certainly, all of those on Coruscant had been poisoned, since most stayed at the Temple while on planet. At least it had been discovered before more than two or three doses had been dispensed into the water. But...

"Rhyss?" Patrice had to ask. "Was any more vayndron found?"

In an unusual disregard for protocol, Rhyss whispered a terse, "What?"

"Was more vayndron found elsewhere in the Jedi Temple?"

"I didn't ask," he snapped, turning away from her, immersing himself in another holo-message.

"You mean, they didn't search the Temple?" Patrice realized what she had already thought and stopped herself before she blurted it out.

"I mean, I didn't ask."


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


Arlyss smiled to herself as she climbed the winding rear staircase of the Hotel Orrida Casaan. Pale rays of amber light broke through the tense gloom of the stairwell, echoing her own lift in spirits. The suns' rays seemed to match his eyes, she thought. Gentle, subtle eyes...

At the landing of the floor where the Jedi had taken up residence, Arlyss paused, standing on tiptoe to peer out the tiny, oval window just above her head. Such a vast city, so much life here, so many people, one could just drink in the activity from this vantage point, watch the activity to and fro... startled by a slight noise behind her, Arlyss spun around to meet the cerulean eyes and wide smile of Wil Hedegaard.

"It is a beautiful city, isn't it Arlyss? From what I remember of my studies, it is much like your own Klar Almoreth, back home on Wynth, isn't it?" Wil ventured.

"It is, very much so. Even down to the bargaining and the cheating merchants in the marketplaces. Yeri had such a terrible time with them earlier, you know," Arlyss smiled.

"Oh, I think she enjoys all of this immensely. She's even enjoying Jain's company, even though you'd never get her to admit it," Wil said, offering his arm to her in a gentleman's request for company. Arlyss took it, allowing him to guide her through the entryway into the main hall.

"Let's hope she doesn't come to enjoy it too much," Arlyss said, somewhat more somberly. "I am not so sure much good can come of two Jedi marrying."

"The founder of our new Order didn't seem to have a problem there," Wil laughed. "Master Skywalker married at least once, and I understand that when Master Jade Skywalker died, he married again, some years after her death, though it was not to another Jedi."

"That is true. However, marriage is still not a common occurrence among Jedi, Wil. Sometimes, I am not sure... " Arlyss let her voice die out, her head bowed in thought.

"Not sure what? That you did right, giving up your title, your wealth, your privileges? Arlyss, you have become an accomplished Jedi knight, and have given the Jedi Order a great deal," Wil said sincerely.

"Among the Irundashii, a fifth daughter doesn't bring much honor to the family. I left nothing of any consequence," Arlyss said, the vehemence in her words startling Wil; unused to strong emotion in the normally quiet young woman, he struggled to find an appropriate response.

Arlyss continued talking, making a reply unnecessary. "It's okay. I... I just hope that Yeri doesn't encounter such a... a conflict as that."

"You sound as if you have had experience in that area," Wil said, sensing something he couldn't quite place. Something was disturbing Arlyss, and, yet, at the same time, she seemed almost elated. "Is there someone special? You have never spoken of him to me," he said.

"Well, not really. I suppose there is someone I could fancy, but, the way things are now, I doubt I'll have the opportunity. Anyhow, this assignment is certainly keeping us busy," Arlyss fudged. "When would I have time to pursue romance?" She laughed, a bit nervously.

"Oh, I don't know," Wil smiled. "Some folks find time just about anywhere," he said, nodding his head at a Bothan-human couple who had paused in the hall, ostensibly to open their suite door. The human, a female, was giggling conspicuously, while petting the Bothan male on his neck.

"Now that's a sure-fire way to up his ante," Arlyss snickered appreciatively.

Wil let go her arm as they both rushed past the couple. "Arlyss! Aren't you bawdy?!" he giggled, blushing.

"Well, it's true. A sure way to arouse a Bothan's, ah, 'interest', is to stroke the fur on their necks. I thought you knew that, oh xenobiological expert. Or do you only study reptilian species?" Arlyss teased.

"Well, I didn't get that far into my study of Bothans; we only did a month there before I had to leave for Dantooine," Wil grinned.

"Well, I don't plan to check it out first hand; Bothans also have nasty tempers. Mirrec is lucky she's a Shamunai and can shut out Master Hykk when she needs to," Arlyss laughed.

Wil reached his room, turned to enter, reluctant to leave Arlyss alone. Something wasn't right; he could sense it.

"Arlyss, is everything all right?" he asked. "I mean, I sort of felt bad leaving you and Adrian alone out there like that."

"Everything's fine, Wil. Things were pretty quiet. In fact, I almost enjoyed being here, for once," Arlyss smiled, suppressing what seemed to Wil to be a blush. "I'm just a little tired. I'll see you later on, Wil. Get some rest, ok?" She hurried away down the hall without waiting for an answer, leaving Wil to puzzle at the conflicting emotions he sensed from her.


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


"Everything is unfolding as you have planned, Lady Nemesis," the cloaked figure in the holo stated, its image sputtering, then stilling for a few moments, before sputtering some more.

"Very well," answered the master, standing on a stairway landing, dressed in long black robes with gilt embroidery, holding the holo receiver in her hand. Behind her stood several lesser figures, all dressed in similar, if less ornate, robes, all watching the figure in the holo intently.

Three of the figures stepped off the landing, descended stairs and swirled onto the shiny, ivvorren-inlaid floor of the gymnasium where they began practicing various hand-to-hand combat techniques. Ivvorren, a hard substance taken illegally from the nocern, an animal native to Verryk, by poachers, had proved to be a most wondrous surface for a gymnasium floor, a fourth apprentice, who remained at the side of Lady Nemesis, considered thoughtfully. Too bad the poachers could not be allowed to survive for a repeat expedition.

"Excellent," the hooded figure of the master finally spoke, jerking the apprentice back to the matter at hand. "The situation on Dedonne will soon become much more precarious for our Jedi friends." Turning away from her apprentice, Lady Nemesis gracefully descended the stairs, the toady trailing along a couple of meters behind.

As they lit on the gymnasium floor a few meters from the three sparring figures, one of the combatants dropped out of the fray, and blurted out, "Master, are you still going to initialize phase two even if phase one is successful?"

"That does not concern you; your concern is obedience," the master answered, dropping the still-functioning holo to the floor, then whirling about, doffing her voluminous robes in obvious challenge to the apprentice.

Immediately dropping to her knees in a submissive display, the hapless apprentice didn't expect the hard boot of her master to her solar plexus forcing her to flip backwards onto the floor with a thud. Gasping for breath, she cried, "Please, master... "

Paying no attention to the anguished figure writhing at her feet, Lady Nemesis summoned her robe to her, and stood for a moment to observe her other disciples, who continued to spar, completely disregarding their stricken comrade. A voice from the holo lying on the floor distracted her from this pleasurable pastime.

"An interesting display," the satiny voice purred. "A slow learner?"

"I trust you will find the others much better prepared when the time comes, Admiral," the woman spoke icily.

"Of course," the voice growled under its breath sanguinely. "You are much more forgiving than I am."


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


His shoulders hunched, and his head lowered so his hair whisked across his pale gray-blue eyes, the human stranger clad in the heavy charcoal cloak pushed another card into the sabaac force field. The ochre bulb just above his head barely cast a feeble light over several sabaac tables arrayed around the wooden floor of the seedy little bar known as the Idiot's Array in the Crimson City quarter of Orrida Dedonne.

Ottaka Rydell groaned once more, his flattened nasal orifices widening at the affrontery of his opponent. "You're a slimy lookin' son of a dianoga. I'll see you there and raise it," he growled menacingly, and pushed his selection into the force field. Once pushed under the field, a card would no longer change, and was set until the hand was over.

The stranger said nothing and merely grinned. His companions, a couple of risqué Twi'lek dancers, giggled vapidly and draped their lekku over his arms and shoulders in an openly suggestive manner. Ignoring their advances, the stranger placed three more credit chips on the table, then placed another card into the force field. "See you, and raise you two more."

"Has anyone checked the cards in this deck?" Rydell hissed angrily, searching his hand and coming up with naught.

"Are you saying I cheat?" the stranger queried with an innocent smile, brushing his sun-streaked ash blonde hair off his tanned forehead.

Gandi Braeger, a Corellian trader spoke up in a conciliatory tone. "Well, now, Rydell here has played in here before. Ever'body trusts him... but you just showed up today and started winnin'... well, now, that looks pretty bad to folks, if you know what I mean... "

"Yeah, I am! I been winning this game all day until you dragged your mangy rancor butt in here, and started takin' ever' body's money!" Rydell interrupted with a dismayed grunt, his pallid cheeks reddening with rage. He stood up in fury, overturning the table, de-activating the force field and spilling credits and drinks all over the refuse-strewn floor. His dancer companions having fled to a far corner, the stranger casually regarded the recently dismantled sabaac game.

"Now, Rydell, why did you have to go and do that? I am quite willing to work out terms with those who are sporting in defeat," he said smoothly, smiling a wan, chilly smile, as he backed up slowly against the wooden rear wall.

Rydell drew an aged customized blaster and aimed it at the stranger's heart. Murmurs could be heard as the crowd hushed and drew back from the combatants. "I'm calling you a lowlife piece of stinking nerf herding crap!" Rydell hissed, leveling the weapon at his opponent, his trigger finger visibly shaking.

"You lack the courage of your convictions sir; do it!" the stranger began to taunt him, opening his cloak and shirt to reveal a taut, muscular chest. "Here's your target; easy enough to find," the stranger paused, never taking his eyes off Rydell, still smiling his peculiar smile, "unless of course, you're afraid."

Vyndor Ransa, Rydell's Vryjyk companion, approached the two from the sidelines, his six arms firmly crossed across his chest in a Vryjyk display of aggression "C'mon, Rydell, ye really letting that little Sqyrel talk to ye like 'dat," he hissed.

All that Rydell could utter was a surprised cry as his blaster flew from his hand into that of the grinning stranger; he looked down at the blaster, then threw it aside, scornfully. Sabaac tables overturned, drinks flew in the air and customers began howling and swearing as the stranger became a windstorm of action. Ransa gave a high piercing wail as he felt the stranger's elbow jab him in the gut, Rydell's face receiving a kick on the stranger's backtwist. The stranger grabbed his hands, twisting and pining them upwards, palms up, straining his wrists, before pulling them downwards sharply, sending shockwaves of pain through his arms, kicking him in his privates and releasing him to howls of laughter by a couple of wizened old spacers. Rydell emitted a high-pitched screech, grasped his injured body parts protectively and stumbled backwards, overturning a barstool.

The Troika bartender turned his two heads and glared suspiciously at the stranger with all four eyes. The grey whirlwind had redoubled his assault on Rydell and Ransa, with bar regulars furiously attempting to figure out whether or not to assist regulars Rydell and Ransa defend themselves against their surprising opponent. Most, including the pair of Twi'lek dancers opted for finding the nearest safe corner to watch the confrontation.

Ransa had the great advantage of having quite a few more eyes and six arms to work with against the stranger's two and two combination. Convinced that he was superior in strength, the Vryjyk picked up the hapless gambler, and began to squeeze him, his muscular arms forcing the man's air out of his lungs hard. Amazingly, the stranger managed to pick up his legs while in the Vryjyk's grasp, and kick him squarely in a soft point just between his chest and abdominal armor, forcing the arachnoid to release him immediately. He then whirled about and hit a newly advancing Rydell squarely in the chest, just below the collarbone, sending him collapsing to the floor, paralyzed and gasping for air.

Seeing Rydell defeated, Ransa slowly backed away, eyeing the stranger with mixed fear and hatred. The stranger turned slowly and coolly towards him. Smirking slyly at Ransa, the stranger straightened his shirt in one fluid motion, scooped up his winnings from among the flotsam and jetsam of the cluttered floor, and headed toward the bar. All around him the various outlanders and regulars eyed him suspiciously; their desire to avenge the trouncing of their compatriot Rydell was evident, but unlikely to come to fruition. No one had any desire to go home missing body parts.

"Lovely place you got here; nice clientele," the stranger said to the bartender, placing a few credits on the bar as payment for the drinks after he had cashed in his winnings. The Twi'leks had sauntered back to the bar from the safety of their corner, hoping to rekindle their budding friendship.

"I seem to have worn out my welcome here, but perhaps we'll meet another time?" the stranger purred in response to their subtle gestures of lekku and hand.

"We'll see," the taller of the two said with visible disappointment in her face, as she stroked his gaunt cheek gently.

"Hopefully," the other murmured seductively, kissing him on his other cheek.

All eyes were upon him as he disengaged himself from the Twi'leks, winked mischievously at them and silently departed the Idiot's Array. Returning from assisting medics the bartender had summoned to assist Ransa and Rydell, Adrian and Wil exchanged perplexed glances at the nonchalant exit of the stranger. Jain was eyeing him admiringly, while Yeri suggested to Arlyss that he had to have Jedi-like reflexes in order to fight in such an inspired manner. The sabaac tables had already been returned to normal positions, cards set up, and the games resumed, minus the three combatants.

No one noticed the dark, hooded figure in the far corner, who, upon the stranger's exit, waited a few moments, then quietly slipped around the surging crowds at the sabaac tables and slipped through a side door. Jain continued to enthuse about the stranger's fighting skills, contending, "Master Adrian, do you think maybe he had Jedi reflexes? Some of the other Padawans at the temple say that... "

Adrian cut him off curtly, "fighting skills alone do not a Jedi make. Many a bounty hunter and mercenary likes to think he has Jedi reflexes. However, it is not in fighting that our strength lies, my dear apprentice, but in our attunement with the Force! The Force is a Jedi's true weapon." Adrian looked around in the bar, feeling something... somehow... was not right... something important, but elusive.

Properly admonished, Jain replied, "I understand, Master; however, one must admit he was highly skilled. He handled both of them, even when they kept coming."

Arlyss had been listening intently to this discussion. Often found lacking in fighting skill during her apprentice days, her extensive training, first with Adrian and later with Wil, had paid off in more than one dangerous situation since then. "Jain, one thing I noticed was that, in his own odd manner, he rather egged them on, almost daring them to attack him! It was almost as if he wanted them to attack him," she observed sagely.

"I sensed that, also," Adrian replied distractedly, downing the last of his virgin Green Pica Thundercloud, wincing at the tartness of the drink. He then stood, in preparation to leave. The others picked up their cloaks, and finished off their drinks.

"Something's not right here!" Wil whispered to Adrian suddenly as he looked around in the bar just as Adrian had done a few moments earlier.

"What?" Jain eyed Wil suspiciously. Yeri opened her mouth to defend her master; Adrian held a hand up to shush them both.

Closing his eyes, Adrian concentrated his intuition into the Force. The others followed suit, the Padawans drawing closer to their masters.

"Everybody out!" Wil shouted, "Now!"

The Jedi had barely turned around, lightsabers ignited, stances defensive, when a loud crack, followed by a whoosh came from behind the sabaac tables. The ground shook and the flimsy structure of the building began to break apart. Patrons grabbed flying currency, chips and credits, colliding with each other, wild ions in a berserk cyclotron.

"Get these people out of here now!" Adrian shouted above the din. Arlyss had already begun pushing the two Twi'lek women and several gamblers away from the gaming tables, where the roof had begun to collapse, toward the side exit. Jain was herding another group towards the front exit, when the entire front of the building gave way. One great shove of the Force, and the patrons were free, and into the streets, Jain behind them, his luminous emerald blade slashing and repelling falling debris.

Wil had jumped over the bar to find several beings under it, shaking and mumbling with fright; using the Force he was able to rush the frightened patrons of the now-defunct Idiot's Array towards the front entrance. The frightened patrons raced out from the bar, with Wil right behind them, slashing at the debris falling from the ceiling and walls with his lightsaber. Wil then turned towards the building next door, a burlesque club with a sign, Lair of the Sith Witch, in gaudily printed Basic, hanging jauntily above the doorway.

"Is everybody out?" Adrian shouted to the others.

"Wil ran back in there!" cried Arlyss, shaken.

"Where's Yeri?" Jain shouted.

No one answered his query; Adrian and Arlyss had run back towards the burning building. "Wil, get out of there... " Adrian and Arlyss shouted in unison above the din in the street.

As if in response to their words, Wil and a small group emerged from the doorway of the Lair of the Sith Witch when suddenly, with a deafening roar, a fireball erupted from behind them. Adrian, Arlyss and Jain ran towards the burlesque hall, flames from the fire searing their robes. They saw several people attempting to escape; a human woman, flames licking around her, was trying to claw her way away from the shattered front entrance. Arlyss attempted to pull the woman out of the conflagration, as Adrian and Jain reached for several others, leading a few to safety. High-pitched shrieks could be heard from within the inferno, as the flames climbed higher and higher. Several small explosions could be heard from within the conflagration as well, and part of the structure had begun to collapse.

"Arlyss!" Adrian shouted. "Get away from the building! It's giving way!"

"I can't get her out!" Arlyss returned, still attempting to free the now-unconscious woman.

Adrian's reply was lost in a thunderous blast that lofted him, Arlyss, several people and the fiery remains of the burlesque hall several hundred meters into the air, then tossed them to the ground as discarded rag dolls. Jain could only watch, horrified, as remains of several species, some recognizable, some merely charred pieces, as well as splintered building wreckage, rained upon the hapless spectators.


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


Patrice released her breaths in measured puffs of air, making sure she didn't over-exhale. She moved carefully through the cool, clear water, dispassionately observing the multicolored, native aquatic life. Such a lovely planet... CRACK! The closing gavel hit the podium, and the arbitration hearings were closed for another day, another long, dull, dreary day. Patrice drew herself up slowly off her hard vreewood chair, and glanced at Rhyss. Hopefully, they could simply go back to their respective quarters, send off a report on the HoloNet, and be done with it. If the HoloNet was working properly, of course. Patrice sighed audibly.

"So what's got you bothered?" Rhyss intoned superciliously. "Not the pleasure vacation you signed up for, eh?"

"Oh, go wrestle a bandaxzine," Patrice snarled grumpily. "Why is it that these treaties have to be written in such legalese that it takes an army of each side's lawyers to interpret the damned thing? We're Jedi, NOT diplomats!" Though sensing a slight disturbance in the Force, both Patrice and Rhyss were too occupied with their discussion to pay too much attention to it.

"Oh, but the last time I checked, one of the prime function of Jedi was diplomacy, my dear," Rhyss said triumphantly.

'Only because there are no wars to fight, and no one to save, and NO SITH LORDS to kick your lily ass, you silly, sycophantic twit,' Patrice thought angrily. It had to be the will of the Force she was paired with the Jedi she found most difficult to work with in all of existence. But for the life of her, she couldn't sense anything from the Force, couldn't see what it was she had done to deserve Rhyss, nor what she could possibly learn from him at this point. Tolerance was one thing; to live through endless pettiness, well, at times like this she found herself missing the Yuuzhan Vong. At least, finally, a settlement had been reached, and there appeared to be no conflicts on this one. Should any come up, everyone knew who the real losers would be, and they didn't reside in the Elrood Sector.

Rhyss' comm-link beeped shrilly just as he opened his mouth to comment. 'Probably going to tell me to watch my thoughts,' Patrice mused, when her daydream was interrupted by a shock in the Force as violent as any scream, more shrill than any battle klaxon, and more violent in nature than the previous sensation. Rhyss, also sensing it, went from his normal ruddy coloring to ashen in seconds.

"Let's go; it's Crimson City!" he said curtly, knocking over the table as he jumped up and headed for the nearest doorway. Rhyss' comm-link continued its beeping, but he turned it off hissing through clenched teeth, "Not now!"

Grasping the hilt of her lightsaber, Patrice followed him at a run, resisting the violence of the Force rushing through her as best she could, concentrating on breathing and physical movement.

Their petty dispute forgotten, they headed out of the chamber into the street, hailing a fast-moving shuttle. The driver put up an argument for a few seconds, refusing to go to Crimson City, saying he'd heard riots were breaking out. The combined glares of the two Jedi, added to purposeful reaches towards their lightsabers and the shuttle took off at breakneck speed.

In a few moments, the shuttle lit just above a narrow street, Patrice recognizing Crimson City by its namesake lights. They hit the pavement a meter or so below the shuttle, running, robes flying behind them in the crisp wind. Patrice didn't count the blocks they passed; she simply reached through the Force, attempting to find Adrian. If he were there, the others would be all right, she knew...

An odd-shaped, black robed figure, some centimeters taller than Rhyss came by them, making long strides the other way. It nodded to them, continuing its trek away from the center of Crimson City, as were so many others. There was something vaguely familiar in that stride, Patrice thought. Something...

'Yes, my dear, it is I. How could I not recognize you, my love?' Her chest thudding maddeningly as she continued running, Patrice quickly glanced behind her; he had already disappeared into the deep indigo gloom of the warrens, before she could question him further.


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


Adrian slowly rose, and grasped Jain's outreached arm. Despite his delirious descent, he was completely numbed by the blast, his heart racing, a loud thudding sound echoing within his head, muting and distorting everything he perceived. It made him want to stop, to untangle the mesh of confusing clamor but his sense of duty denied him that luxury.

The two men made their way towards Arlyss, who was stumbling to her feet, brushing the ash from her tattered robes. They couldn't see Wil through the still-falling debris; large slabs also blocked their view, but they kept moving, realizing they would have to begin somewhere.

Though, covered with multiple cuts and bruises, Adrian, Arlyss and Jain scoured the area for survivors of the blast. A coarse, whitish-gray dust surrounded them, seeming to choke up people's throats before settling into a surreal mantle over everything and everybody. 'This must be what war is like,' thought Adrian, as he led Arlyss and Jain through the wreckage.

"I'll notify... aagh... Master Rhyss... hhaagh... as well as the rest of the delegation back at the Casaan. We're gonna need serious help," Adrian coughed, finally able to clear his throat, then buzzing his comm-link, peering about at the gray, dead cityscape. Though he buzzed several times, he received no acknowledgement, and after the fifth try, gave up the attempt.

"They'll know soon enough. I imagine Patrice and Rhyss will head down here soon," he said blankly, continuing his survey of the rubble around him.

Arlyss found a fragment of clothing that appeared similar to that of the woman she had been attempting to free; she had not survived. Hanging her head, she wiped the tears from her cheek. Adrian placed his arm about her shoulder reassuringly.

"You did what you could, Arlyss," Adrian said, attempting not to betray his own dismay at the destruction. "Right now, we need to attend to these survivors. And we need to find Wil and Yeri."

'Where is Patrice, when I need her most?' he added to himself.

Arlyss looked down, and pushed what appeared to be some sort of personal foot covering; pressing her toe further into the rubble, she unearthed a small makeup compact that appeared to belong to a Twi'lek, a deck of playing cards, a holo-photo. Such every-day items amongst the rubble gave the situation a sense of the surreal, as if she had stepped into a gruesomely illustrated nightmare that threatened to become reality.

"I... I don't know!" Arlyss said; her eyes full of tears.

Adrian instinctively pulled Arlyss closer to him; he turned and spoke hurriedly to Jain, who appeared to be waiting for instructions.

"Go talk to that group of survivors over there. They probably got out before the blast. We will assist the injured in this area, learn what we can and... " he paused slightly, before continuing, "... and find Wil and Yeri." He did not add the unspoken thought, 'If they are here to be found'.

"I-I don't know... " Jain stammered, clearly shaken by the carnage and raw brutality he had witnessed.

"You do know," Adrian said firmly, perhaps even more firmly than he had intended, "And you will. Jain, remember what you've been taught. It's okay to feel. We are sentient beings so it would be unnatural not to. But you also have an obligation to these people, to help them calm down, assist them in any way you can. You have to be their anchor, their guide. It is important that you show the appearance of being calm to these people, even though you might not be. You have the full support of the Jedi Order; you are not alone in this. Always remember that!"

Jain turned away from Adrian and Arlyss, and hurried off. He looked about him at the complete devastation; all about him were pain, suffering, and death. People were running amok, screaming, panicking or wandering aimlessly about, a glazed look in their eyes. Noticing a small shoe lying on the ground, he bent down to pick it up only to find that a foot was still inside, ripped clean at the ankle. Repulsed, he dropped it onto the ground again, suppressing a retch.

Intentionally shutting out the grisly imagery about him, Jain hurried over to a group of ten young females most would judge to be fairly attractive specimens of their various species. With recent events, however, that attraction was barely in evidence. One of them, a blue skinned humanoid, sat on a street curb, twirling her silver-black hair, crying openly. The two Twi'leks he remembered seeing with the gambler had joined the group from the Lair of the Sith Witch, commiserating about their bad fortune.

One of the dancers looked his way as he approached; a tall, skinny-legged, greenish-colored being with brownish black splotches, a bloated appearing chest and abdomen and a smallish face with large, crimson painted lips. Jain thought, 'A Pa'lowick; don't see many of those out this way. She must be one of the really high-paid ones. Must have been. Either that, or a band singer who hit on hard times.' He met the dancer in the middle of the street, making sure his lightsaber was not in view, and his hood was drawn back revealing his face, common practice for a Jedi who wished to emphasize a diplomatic role over a defensive one.

The dancer moaned loudly as Jain approached, "We're ruined! Dis poodoo ruined us all!" She tore at the tattered robe she had managed to throw around her as she had rushed out of the dance hall before it had erupted into flames, and surveyed the grayish-stone and blackened-wood rubble mournfully.

Jain motioned to the Pa'lowick and began to croon to her gently, performing a calming ritual on the hapless dancer. "This must be terrible for you," he said quietly. "But in order to catch those who did this, we need to know some things. Who you worked with, your boss, clients, new ones you'd never seen before, anything that might've seemed sorta weird." Continuing in the same slow, calming voice, he asked, "What's your name?"

The Pa'lowick looked at him, and, somewhat more calmly, said, "Craye Jyppers. I worked here for sevr'al years. It waddn't much money, but the clients, theyse good to me. Ya know what I mean?" she mewled in her characteristic high-pitched whine.

"You must have known everyone who worked there, Craye" Jain said sympathetically.

"Yeah, I knows the girls... knewd... the girls," Craye dashed a few bluish tears from her eyes, but continued to speak steadily, "And the owner, Cremmont Feathers."

"Was there anything different about work tonight, Craye? Anything unusual, new dancers, new customers?" Jain knew he was reaching, but perhaps the dancer had seen something, or someone unusual.

"Just da usual," Craye said dismally. "All da girls work dis night're dere. I 'ad a VERY import'nt customer who come in tonight. It was a big week, with tha' arbitrations. Ever'body hoped as they would work 'n' all. People in the street wanted 'em da work," she continued, still a bit scattered, but calming more as she continued to speak.

"Craye, can ya tell me who this customer was?" Jain prodded insistently.

"I'm not really supposed to 'n' all... " she said, defensively.

"It's important, Craye, very important," Jain pushed a bit more with the Force.

"A Briggick delligit to tha' arbitrations; and an Elmasi'n fella he said he knew, business partner, maybe. Seems as he wanted to show his friend he knew a good time, ya know?" Craye whispered the Vryjyk's name to Jain, then that of his friend.

Jain nodded appreciatively, and was preparing to head off, then hesitated. "One more thing, Craye?"

"Sure. Nice young thing like yourself... " she was calm, but shock was beginning to set in. He touched her again, could feel her skin warming to his touch.

"Craye, do those two Twi'leks work with you? The ones... " he pointed towards the two dances who had been with the odd gambler earlier.

"Why, yeah, they been with us for a long time, honey. Cyrendria and Bonjill. Great gals. Why?" Craye seemed genuinely puzzled at Jain's question.

"Oh, nothin' in particular. You see a strange man with them any time lately?" he continued, hoping he wasn't pressing too hard.

"Dat one, he bad, ya know? Name of Krennig Shearing. Dunno where he comes from. But he's a nasty customer, that one. Comes in, throws a lot o' money around, drives off a lot of the regulars," Craye winced. "Funny thing, he never do nuttin', yet ever'ones scared of him."

"How long's he been around? Week, a few days?" Jain hoped he was sounding casual. He realized his interrogation of the Pa'lowick had taken much longer than he thought it would.

"Maybe a week. Not sure. Why don't you ask 'em?" Craye said, as she sank back down on the curb, her pudgy lips pouting more than ever.

Jain patted her arm, sending some more healing energy into her. Nodding his thanks, he hurried off to question the Twi'lek dancers.


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


Adrian and Arlyss were scanning the still-smoldering rubble for signs of Wil Hedegaard. She and Adrian exchanged worried glances, as they continued their joint efforts in the Force to find the young Jedi knight and his Padawan. Arlyss had stopped crying, but was still holding on to Adrian. He made no move to let go of her.

"Arlyss?" He asked her gently.

"Y-y-yes?" she replied, stammering.

"Are you all right?" For the first time since their first encounter so long ago, Adrian looked directly into her deep brown eyes and was not forced to avert his gaze. Arlyss did not look away.

"Yes. It... it is just difficult when... " Arlyss extended a hand, indicating the smoldering rubble of the Lair of the Sith Witch. "It is this part of being a Jedi that means the most to me - being able to help others, to save lives. When I fail... well... "

"Arlyss, we are not failures, just because we sometimes fail," Adrian said pointedly. He cupped his hands about her face, and, drawing his face slowly to hers, kissed her forehead, before he was completely cognizant of what he was doing. "We will find Wil and Yeri," he said, drawing himself away from her reluctantly.

"Wil was in there, Adrian," Arlyss whispered, holding back more tears.

"I don't sense a change in the Force," Adrian insisted. "I know he's still alive."

Taking Arlyss by the hand, Adrian pulled her towards the far end of the street, towards the center of town, away from what remained of the Idiot's Array. Another group of people from the bar had gathered at this end of the block, several seriously injured. Stopping to assist them, Adrian asked the first one, a small Vryjyk, if he'd seen another Jedi nearby, a medium built, sandy-haired, blue eyed human.

"No, haven't seen... " the Vryjyk gasped, his six legs clasping erratically, as he lay on his back, writhing in pain. Quickly, Adrian performed a simple healing on the Vryjyk, and moved to the next injured being. Arlyss had left his side, and was assisting a badly burned Elmasian when she glimpsed Wil, standing woodenly next to a pile of debris.

"Wil, get over here, we need your help," Arlyss called to him excitedly. Wil simply stood there, trembling slightly, as he looked down at the rubble at his feet. Arlyss ran over, drawing up alongside him, only then noticing his ashen face. "Wil, are you all right?" she exclaimed, reaching towards him. She moved back in pure reflex when she noticed the broken body of a young Elmasian lying beneath the rubble at their feet.

Wil Hedegaard, his clothes ripped and covered with dust and ashes, his eyes bleary with fatigue and tears, looked up at her, whispering, "I couldn't save her... I-I couldn't... couldn't... " before slowly collapsing at Arlyss' feet.

"Adrian, I need your help!" Arlyss screamed, realizing that Wil was bleeding profusely from his right side.


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


Panting even harder, Patrice lengthened her strides to keep up with the now-sprinting Rhyss. She had never seen him like this before. What was it that had him so upset?

Even blocks away she felt the emotional trauma of hundreds of people in the Force. As they drew nearer, she could make out cries for help in a dozen languages, but not even that could have prepared her for the scene that awaited her and Rhyss's arrival.

'It's like a war zone!' Patrice nearly swore under her breath, as she and Rhyss stumbled through makeshift barricades into what had been the center of Crimson City. An entire city block had been demolished, apparently by several explosions, from the look of it. Apparently abandoned by the police, who were simply encouraging people to leave, the stunned victims milled about everywhere, with bodies of the dead and more seriously injured sprawled in the middle of the street or clumped up in heaps. Though some effort had been made by civilians to assist their fellows, it would take much more work to actually make headway into the disaster. Patrice sensed Adrian nearby, then heard his voice, clear, concise, commanding. She then saw Arlyss kneeling at Adrian's feet, holding someone, evidently someone badly injured. The crowd parted as the two senior Jedi approached.

"Wil!?" Patrice heard Rhyss' voice scream out, "WIL!" At Arlyss' side, Rhyss knelt on the other side of Wil, grasping the young Jedi's other hand.

Patrice walked around the perimeter of the group, sidestepping several injured beings. Walking up behind Adrian, she whispered softly to him, "What happened?"

"He went back in just before the burlesque hall blew," Adrian said, looking down at the fallen Jedi. Patrice knelt immediately, taking Wil's hand and checking his pulse. "He's in shock; get me blankets, robes, anything to warm him up!" she barked at the onlookers, who rushed to be of service.

"Adrian, have you called in for reinforcements? What is going on with Orrida Dedonne security?" Patrice asked.

"The police have this area cordoned off, and are attempting to get all the mobiles out of here; search and rescue units are on their way in, but it's going to be a while. We've gone around, trying to help those we can. That was when we found Wil," Adrian explained.

"He's lost a lot of blood, Patrice," Arlyss said mournfully, stroking the dark straw-colored hair off Wil's forehead; she had loosened his hair from the band tying his hair back, and it splayed awkwardly about his face. "We tried to keep him warm." She moved, allowing Patrice to take the near-lifeless young man into her arms.

Eyes closed Patrice entered a healing trance, one hand fixed over Wil's abdomen for what seemed an interminable time. Opening her eyes, she then looked at Rhyss, saying bluntly, "He must receive better medical attention. I have stopped the bleeding. But, it isn't enough. He has extensive internal injuries."

"You will return to Coruscant with him, Patrice," Rhyss ordered gravely, his stare transfixed on Wil.

"He can't wait that long! On top of that, these people need help! We can't wait for the mobile units to get here!" Patrice whispered, aghast. Her ashen face fell, as she locked eyes with Adrian; both were slackjawed with shock.

"Coruscant has the best Jedi healers and the best medical facilities in the galaxy," Rhyss responded, his voice a sing-song.

"There are hospitals here, and Patrice is the best healer in the entire Jedi Order," Arlyss averred. Adrian nodded in concurrence. Jain had rejoined his master at this point, and was about to say something, when Adrian motioned for him to keep silent.

"Young lady, I am head of this delegation, and the only Jedi Master present!" Rhyss exploded. "Both of you will take Wil and leave NOW." He then turned on his heel, and stalked away violently.

Patrice eyed the distraught Arlyss, and merely shook her head. Taking several deep breaths, she appeared to regain her color, and looked about, as if to get some sort of bearing on the situation. "Adrian, it would appear we are going to need some serious help here. Arlyss and I must do everything we can to keep Wil alive until we get back to Coruscant. Any word on Wil's apprentice?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, master!" interjected Jain excitedly, his interrogations of the dancers all but forgotten. "I'm sure I saw her earlier, being dragged off by that same stranger we saw gambling and fighting in the Idiot's Array earlier. I know it was him; in fact he could be our bomber, I know he is!"

"Do not assume anything, Jain," Patrice corrected the young Padawan, "Assumption is the mother of all screw-ups!"

"Yes Master Patrice," Jain responded. "

"Arlyss, go get Wil's ship and bring it back here!" Patrice intoned, "We can figure this out after we've secured transportation outta here." Arlyss was off without a word; Patrice returned her attention to Adrian.

"Do you have any idea... wait! Didn't Wil fix Yeri up with some sort of tracking device, some sort of a homing beacon in case they were separated?"

Adrian brightened a bit. "Yes, he did. I thought it was overkill, but I realized it was a good idea, since he couldn't literally go everywhere with her like I can this guy," he indicated Jain, who rolled his eyes and pulled a slight face.

"Adrian, turn over the operations here to the group from Clak D'Or VII. Most of them are still here; in fact, unless I'm very much mistaken, some of them are headed this way now. If that isn't acceptable to Rhyss, I'll sic Master Hykk and Mirrec on him," Patrice said, her voice hard, determined. The idea of pitting the Bothan master and his apprentice against Rhyss in the midst of the arbitration panel seemed to brighten Patrice's mood considerably, despite the gravity of the situation. "I need you and Jain to take your ship and try to get a bead on Yeri's signal. Arlyss and I will get Wil back to Coruscant, and, in the meantime, I'll do what I can for him."


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


Several meters away, a hooded figure stood among a small crowd that had gathered to see what had happened. Stooped under a cumbersome burden, the figure paused, focusing intently on the fallen Jedi. Taking several steps towards the scene, he paused again. The Jedi who allowed him to escape years before held the fallen one in her arms protectively. A larger male had run up just before her crying out loudly, in terrible distress, not at having witnessed the surrounding destruction, but having seen this particular fallen Jedi. The hooded one stiffened at the sight of the big man, an immense hatred welling up inside him, then quickly fading away, pressed out of his consciousness by an automatic act of will. He could not risk lingering any longer. Shifting the burden on his shoulder slightly, he rejoined the crowd and disappeared into the deepening night.


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


Jain watched Patrice and Arlyss fly Wil's Vendor 3 off towards Coruscant, the tiny speck of the ship glinting as it became merely another star in Dedonne's early twilight sky. As he waited for the ship to power up under his master's sure hand, Jain wrinkled his nose, as he fixed his attention, concentrating on fixing the faint signal of Yeri's personal tracker.

"Jain, you were talking to those dancers. Any leads on causes for the explosion?" Patrice's voice came over the comm, startling the Padawan for a moment.

Struggling to remember the dancers' information, Jain related what he had learned from them, concluding, "One of the dancers, a Craye Jyppers, recalled a couple of businessmen, one Elmasian and one Vryjyk, who met there for the first time earlier," Jain intoned wearily, his fatigue finally overcoming him. "I also questioned a couple of Twi'lek dancers who worked the place as well. The first one said they'd been hanging around some fellow by the name of Krennig Shearing, some gambler, comes in from time to time, runs off all the regulars, was her story. The Twi'leks didn't seem to remember him, though."

Patrice responded soberly, "I doubt it really matters now. From the look of things, if any of them were the bombers, they couldn't have survived. That entire building was reduced to rubble; nothing was left of it, except the sign over the door."

Jain paused again thoughtfully to be interrupted by Adrian who interjected, "The explosive device, Patrice! I don't think I've ever come across such a thing. It had three phases: the earth shaking, the fireball and then, a tremendous, world-shattering final blast. It didn't seem to be the work of someone who was merely trying to disrupt business there; I think something else was going on entirely. The explosion may have been a ruse."

"Well, it looks as if they may have succeeded at that something else. I just got word from Rhyss: The settlement we worked so hard to hammer out was completely tossed out at the last second and the entire arbitration panel, especially the Jedi, have been told they have eighteen hours to leave Dedonne," Patrice said ruefully.

"Okay, we're outta here," Adrian said, then added, "I told you I had a bad feeling about this."

The only answer was a loud burst of static.


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


"What are you doing? And who are you?" Yeri queried confused, "What have you done to me? Why won't you tell me who you are!?"

"Be still, let me clean this cut," Carsten Hedegaard said calmly as he gently dabbed a moist cloth on her bruised arm, "We wouldn't want the goods to be damaged, now would we?" He grinned at her. "There's a hot shower and some clean clothing for you. I don't care for Jedi robes on attractive women, kind of mars the overall effect," Hedegaard said with a leer, before turning and leaving the Padawan sitting alone in her cabin.

Now, while he sat at the console in the cockpit of the ship, he recalled how he had first come into the employ of the enigmatic Lady Nemesis. She had first contacted him on Dathomir, during his training with the amoral Nightsisters. Her offers had been enough to lure him away from Dathomir and back to the more temperate climes and forgiving topographies of his homeworld of Ja'rel, at least for the purpose of making occasional contact with her assistant, Lady Malicia. Though he'd never seen Malicia, so far, the orders had been straightforward, and up until now, the pay had been more than generous.

Hedegaard leaned forward in his command chair, resting his elbows on his knees, knitting his brows in concentration. He still had not received his full retainer for this mission. There were maintenance, weapons and supplies to think of. And now this foolish Jedi, on top of it! It was definitely time to catch the elusive Malicia at her lair, and get this outlandish scheme out and done with.

Hedegaard dallied with these thoughts for a few minutes more, stealing another look at the rosy-skinned girl on his monitor. Interrupting his reverie, his navigation computer addressed him in a soft, smooth contralto, a woman's voice, with a slight hint of the metallic.

"We are now passing the Cron Drift. What coordinates shall I set?"

Hedegaard took a deep breath, then turned to the small data-pad in front of him. Yes, Lady Malicia was waiting. Just deliver the goods and receive payment, so he could retire from running any more scams for Her Ladyship. It always ended up being a hazardous affair working for the Order of Sith 'whatever they called themselves'. However, this job did have its fringe benefits, however infrequent they may have become in more recent days. Perhaps he would pay another visit to the lovely Lady Isis after this was finished.

"Set coordinates for the planet of Ja'rel in the Tion Cluster," Hedegaard ordered curtly. "And computer?"

"Sir?"

"Change from cloak to full stealth mode half a parsec outside the Ja'rel system. No need to upset the local constabulary," Hedegaard ordered, smiling faintly, as he marveled at the ingenuity of the builders of this magnificent ship.

"Yes, sir," intoned the computer, setting the coordinates automatically as it spoke.

Settling back into his command chair, Carsten Hedegaard slowly peeled the ooglith masquer from his face, revealing his real visage; ruddy, a bit worse for wear, but his own, recognizable face, nonetheless. Pressing a button to reveal a disposal cannister, he dropped the spent masquer into it, then pushed the unit back into the console of his chair. At least on board his ship, he could wear his own face; he could relax a bit more. However, he knew he wouldn't be completely out of the gundark den until he was back home on Dathomir.


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


"It's really odd master," Jain reported as he looked at his tracking monitors, "I don't pick up any reading of a ship, it's completely blank. All I get is Yeri's signal, so whoever has her hasn't made the jump to hyperspace yet. Can this reading be correct?"

With a quick glance at the monitors on the co-pilots seat of the cockpit Adrian noticed the signature of Yeri's tracker signal, yet an odd lack of any starship in the vicinity. "Well, there are few options to choose from: whoever took her found the tracker and threw it out into space, which is highly unlikely given the fact that he's dealing with a Jedi - unless of course she's drugged. Or, it is moving independently in some fashion, at a great rate of speed, or our tracking systems are flawed, which is unlikely. The only other option is that the ship carrying her has a cloaking device."

"But cloaking devices are banned in the New Republic, Master," Jain observed.

"Jain, I doubt we are dealing with a law-abiding citizen," Adrian answered. "A Jedi has been abducted, so I suspect we are dealing with a professional."

Jain groaned, continuing to follow the progress of Yeri's tracker's signal on the nav-computer scope. With a few rhythmic flickers, it disappeared entirely.

"Master! The signal! It's gone!" Jain's face fell. "Now what'll we do?"

"They have probably entered hyperspace. We will get her back, Jain. Contact Patrice and Arlyss. Tell them... " Adrian began, before being interrupted by the clamor of the comm-link.


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


Yeri felt the warm, soothing water pour down over her, a sense of liberation, her worries washing away. Gently she ran her fingers down the scabbed-over gash on her forearm.

'That will leave a scar,' she thought as she regarded the injury dispassionately. 'Why is he so good to me? I mean, he's a kidnapper, an evil brute, most likely hired by Carsten Hedegaard or some other ne'er-do-well for this. Is not the brigand Carsten Hedegaard a savage brute who cares nothing for those in his path? Have I been so wrong about him, about evil? Is it really possible to be good as well as evil? Are they two sides of the same double-edged sword, one dependent upon the other?' All this raged through her mind as she washed the ash and dirt from the harrowing explosion in Crimson City off her slender body. 'Why hasn't he tied me up and gagged me? What's he playing at?'

Lost in thought she didn't hear the doors slide open to admit Carsten Hedegaard into the room. He stopped in the doorway, as he observed her every move. Retrieving a small ball from his pocket, he lobbed it at the hapless Padawan from behind, striking her between her shoulder blades. Hedegaard barely concealed a smile as he watched the naked young Jedi turn towards him, awkwardly grappling with a towel, attempting to conceal her body, and at the same time, gasping in anger, fear and recognition.

"Ouch! YOU!" Yeri cried out angrily.

"Yes," he drawled, a thin smile spreading across his face as he added to himself, 'A small test to see if the drug provided by Lady Malicia was truly able to disable a Jedi's Force sensitivity. I must say, even though the test was fairly crude it worked perfectly!'

"Do you mind, Hedegaard?" Yeri snarled, 'Of course, Carsten Hedegaard probably would expect to be allowed to watch me dress.' She tossed the towel aside, and grabbed a larger one, indicating she wished to dry herself and get dressed.

"No, not at all," Carsten said, still leaning up against the doorway, smiling at her innocently. In a fit of pique, Yeri picked up the ball he had thrown at her and shot back at him only to be surprised when he caught it tidily in the air right in front of his face.

Turning briskly away from her, he tossed smoothly over his shoulder, "When you're finished, I request your company on the bridge," the doors sliding shut on his last word.

'Doesn't sound like much of a request to me; more like an order. Hmph,' Yeri thought, as she turned, tossing the towel aside, and considered the wardrobe Hedegaard had assembled for her.

'At least he has decent taste in clothing. None of that dreadful Neo-Core Classic crap or Naboo Romance junk that men usually find alluring. This is more my style!'

She pulled on a simple black tunic, and its matching pantalons. The fabric, a fine, verret from Dathomir, had been trimmed with a jet lace also hailing from Dathomir. 'Interesting. He must spend some of his time there, considering the source of this fabric. It is quite rare.' Though modestly cut, the ensemble emphasized her feminine curves and her blonde hair glowed against the deep jet of the fabric. Pulling on the pair of obviously hand-tanned nerf-hide boots, also black, that were lying at one side, Yeri sighed at the feel of the softness of the materials against her skin.

'Jain. Jain Kiinsgaard.' The thought of the Tareen Padawan stopped her cold, as such unexpected thoughts usually do. She slumped on the bed, hands in her lap, and stared momentarily at the deck of the ship, at a loss for word, or thought. Unable to define thought to put to the loss, she gathered up the thick cultured nerf-wool cloak Hedegaard had left on the bed for her, and made her way to the forward compartment.

"Damn! What is it now?" Jain groused, slapping a hand on the panel.
Adrian signaled for him to be silent. "Adrian here."
"Adrian!" Patrice's voice came across the comm-link, its urgency punctuated by the intermittent static.
"What is it?" he shouted over the clatter.
"From what I can gather from what Jain told me earlier and from Wil's delirious mumblings, I believe we are dealing with Carsten Hedegaard," Patrice replied.
"You sensed him in the Force?" Adrian asked, hopeful.
"No, nothing that concrete. Perhaps Wil did subconsciously. Just intuition, and putting together all these disparate facts. It matches the way he has operated in the past. Remember Hyan's kidnapping? It was... "
"I know. Any recent reports concerning Hedegaard's whereabouts?" Adrian asked, his interest piqued. Patrice wasn't telling him everything. Though she was not close to him, he still sensed... a vague avoidance of some sort.
"Last known whereabouts in the Mid-Rim," Patrice intoned, her voice even, hard. "But that was about two years ago."
"That's a big help." Adrian groaned. "Nothing more recent, I take it?"
"I'm afraid not." Patrice's voice was a clipped staccato.
"But?"
"What?" Patrice sensed her former Padawan's doubts, even at this distance.
"What is he up to now? Why kidnap a Jedi Padawan?" Adrian muttered. "You'd think he'd try something a bit different."

"Look, I've got to get back to Wil. Keep me posted; Patrice out."
The comm-link clicked off. Adrian grimaced. If they were dealing with Carsten Hedegaard, the danger had already tripled. And how had he concealed his identity in The Idiot's Array? At least Patrice and Arlyss wouldn't be pursuing Hedegaard, though, doubtless Patrice could handle him. Adrian doubted she would allow him to escape this time; too many lives had been lost as a result of his evil. But, Arlyss, she had no experience with the wily mercenary, and the thought of her having to face him made Adrian fear for her even more.
How would Wil deal with Carsten injuring or killing one of his friends or his Padawan? Wil had insisted that Carsten Hedegaard was his brother. But could brotherly love bring about the changes Wil would hope for in one as hardened to life as Carsten Hedegaard? Adrian doubted it, and he truly hoped that Arlyss would not be placed in jeopardy by Wil's desire to repair the relationship with his brother.
Her face remained in his mind's eye, and his consciousness of the kiss he'd given her amidst ugliness and destruction remained a searing heat in the center of his chest. He leaned back, and closed his eyes, remembering how she felt, the warmth of her skin beneath his lips, the softness of her in his arms. He wondered if this was what it was like to love, to care so intensely what happened to someone else, that one actually hurt. And he found himself praying to the Living Entity of the Force to protect her, no matter what that took.

********************************
"Welcome to my bridge, Jedi," Carsten said, as Yeri walked onto the bridge. Indicating her clothes, he observed in his characteristic drawl, "Much improved. Though suspect you would make anything look good." Though his words seemed to be complimentary, Yeri couldn't help but believe that somehow, somewhere, there was some twisted meaning or intent behind them that she should not consider flattering.
"Please, sit down." He indicated the co-pilot's seat next to him and she sat down slowly, never taking her eyes off of him, still not letting down her guard. She wondered again why he hadn't put her in restraints. Then she sensed the soft scrutiny of the Force constantly monitoring her every move, making sure that she didn't contemplate to harm him in any way without his foreknowledge. A Force user? Carsten Hedegaard!? Of course, she should have realized it! But somehow, it simply had not occurred to her until now.

Distracted by sudden movements to her right, she spotted four astromech droids lined up to the starboard side of the bridge. Bolting abruptly from her seat, she rushed over to them, running her fingers up and down the rare, expensive curiosities. "Four of them?" she gasped, her eyes wide.
"Yes, they came with the ship," Carsten said, finding himself oddly enchanted by her sincere outburst.
"I've always wanted to see a droid," Yeri exclaimed, continuing to investigate the droids, noting every nuance of their construction, though careful not to interrupt the one that had activated and commenced several navigational functions of the ship.
"The Yuuzhan Vong destroyed all the droids they came across, since any non-organic functioning technology was against their religion," Hedegaard said, by way of explanation. "Nothing they could 'grow' even came close to these."
"What a waste of resources," observed Yeri. "Now, they are so rare, entire systems fight over them."
"Indeed. But, of course, you Jedi know all about that. Always nosing into everything. Anyhow, enough of this chit-chat; I have work to do. Enjoy yourself; just don't break anything," Hedegaard said matter-of-factly, though Yeri suspected that breaking anything on that ship was not within the realm of the possible.
Quietly, she walked back to the co-pilot's chair and sat down, watching his fingers dance over his main console, a fascinated spectator as he worked silently.
"You may find this interesting. It took about seven months to get these old logs translated into basic, but definitely worth the wait," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's definitely a plus to have a galactic translator disc in hand."
He reached over and pressed a button on the control panel. To Yeri's surprise, a holo emerged from the center of the floor of the bridge in front of them. It materialized into the figure of a stout, middle aged man, wearing a uniform reminiscent of the Shoo'an Space Fleet. It spoke in a crisp, clear voice that was strangely soothing:
'System date solar 3746: single-solar 15: lunar 2 of the Second Age. This is Captain Walun Rhiin of the ship Remf'aar of the Jai'relFeron. In our scouting near the Central System we have encountered a newly founded sect calling themselves the Jed-eie. The Jed-eie claim to have the ability to foresee the future and to be in direct contact with the Lords of the Universe, who tell them the fate of things to come. After making preliminary examinations of them and having found no anomalies in their physiology or mentality to explain or verify their claims, our physician, Doctor Velun, came to the conclusion that they must be mentally unbalanced. Even so, they claim to have seen the future of our people. In their precise words: the Jai'relFeron will not find peace until 9 solars after the truce of our divided peoples, by a race we ourselves have engineered: 1 and a half solars after the first battle of the 3rd Interplanetary War, which will engulf most of the Galaxy in the age 6948 solar of the Seventh Age... '
"Hmm," Carsten said as he pressed the button again. "Wrong holo," he stated matter-of-factly, searching for another.
"He's one of my people," Yeri whispered, "He's a Shoo'an Captain. Where did you get this ship?" Her voice crescendoed to a shriek. "What's all this about a third interplanetary war engulfing the galaxy? There's already been three! What is going on, Hedegaard? What are you up to?"
"I assure you, Jedi," Carsten half-smirked, half-grimaced at the word, "This vessel is far older than that of the Shoo'an Empire. It's even older than the time when your people colonized Ja'rel. Probably some crackpot nonsense he got from his Jedi pals. Not that I care. I have way too much to do to bother with old prophecies. Now, if you don't mind... " Hedegaard returned to his work, and began whistling a tune, as if nothing had gone amiss.
Yeri froze at the sound, her face ashen. "I don't know who or what you are, but I want to know what is going on. This... "
Looking up from his work, Hedegaard, stopped short, fixing his gaze on the small pendant that rested about her neck. "What is that around your neck, Jedi?"
"It's my personal property. I keep it as a reminder... Oh, why do you care? It's an emblem of my people, a Shoo'an Phoenix," she replied tartly, turning her face away from him, cradling the emblem in her hands carefully.
With near-instantaneous movement, Hedegaard grasped the pendant off the startled girl's white skin, pulling it towards him. He studied it intently, until, sensing her paralysis, he gazed directly into her frozen stare. Moving his glance slowly down the sleek line of her body, he noted with satisfaction her sheer terror of him. Smiling slyly, he whispered conspiratorially, "Do you have anything else interesting hidden in there?"
Eyes wide, Yeri shook her head soundlessly.

His intent fulfilled, Hedegaard released the pendant, and continued his work. Yeri fled the sterile white bridge for the relative safety of her cabin.
Looking down at the controls he cursed to himself, "Damn, now I can't show her the segment of the Captain's Log that might've been of real interest."

********************************
"Haven't you heard?" a woman whispered conspiratorially to him, her face contorted in a grimace worn by those who feel superior to those they hate.
"Heard?" Wil responded automatically, confused. Despite her dialect's harsh, alien accent, he could understand every word of it.
"They've captured Carsten Hedegaard! He's on trial for the murder of Queen Benefreren."
"Trial?" Wil Hedegaard snatched back a breath.
"The great Jedi Master Rhyss defended him against the death penalty because of extenuating circumstances or something... " the woman's face a grinning skull mocking him.
"Rhyss lost his opportunity to present his case. The Empress had the final say in the matter. Hedegaard's to be executed noon, today!" she stated, her satisfaction verging upon glee.
The women he had been speaking with had vanished; ahead of him, he saw the Imperial Palace, an enormous crowd gathered in front of it.
He used the Force against the people blocking his way to the Imperial staircase; they shrieked with horror, bodies flung out of the way. Forwards he raced, towards the inner court and his brother, his only flesh and blood; more screams and howls as passersby were hurled out of his way, as Wil Hedegaard raced to the edge of the Imperial staircase.
At the front of the crowd he looked around; spotting Master Rhyss, he looked directly at him. Patrice, Adrian and Arlyss flanked Rhyss, the three of them stern-faced. Wil soon realized that they had used their combined power to stop his outburst of Dark energy that had brought him to this frightening precipice. Forced to his knees, Wil stared at their faces, as into the faces of long-dead gods.
"Wil. This is as far as we can allow you to go... " Patrice whispered to him.
"I'm sorry, Wil," Arlyss said softly, her deep brown eyes brimming with tears, "But you must not go!"
A horn blew, its deafening cadences drowning out the voices beside him. The Emperor and Empress walked out onto their official balcony, stately in their official finery; next to them stood Prime Minister Krako, a thin smile pasted on his face. 'He must be pleased, pleased with the fact that the thug Carsten Hedegaard, the murderer of his beloved Queen Benefreren will finally be put to death. To DEATH for killing her! How can he believe this is justice?' thought Wil desperately; yet, struggle as he might, he was rooted to the spot, unable to move, as if in binders held in place by the very Force itself.
"Bring out the prisoner!" cried the executioner.
As the prisoner was brought out into the plaza atop the staircase, the crowd became ecstatic with exuberance. Carsten walked onto the landing, hands bound behind his back, his head high.
"NO! Don't kill him!" Wil felt himself cry out, yet, he could hear nothing but his own mute breathing.
The guards in the entourage activated the force field surrounding Carsten Hedegaard. He was suspended motionlessly a few feet above the stairs, as the official writ of charge was read aloud by the Royal Executioner.
"May he forgive me for the sins I've committed against him," a familiar voice boomed out from behind Wil. It was Rhyss!
"What?" Wil asked Rhyss, shocked at his own brazenness, yet oddly not caring.
"Carry out the sentence, Royal Executioner," Empress Jenca intoned.
The executioner turned slowly to face the prisoner within the force field, his hand slowly reaching out to activate the field; sending the killing pulse through Carsten Hedegaard's body.
"May the Force be with you, my son," Rhyss whispered, as tears streamed down his weathered face.
"Noooooooooo!" Wil cried out, as he struggled to free himself from his enforced imprisonment.
"You have to know what to see," Patrice whispered. He looked at her, not really understanding, and then back up at the landing, where Carsten's body lay lifeless. He looked back over at the other Jedi attending the execution and watched Rhyss lifting a necklace free from his tunic, revealing the symbol of the Rising Phoenix.
Wil felt himself turn over, his clothing sopping. He looked about. Focusing slowly, he realized he was on board his own ship, in his own bunk. Bracing himself against the onslaught of pain, he cried out in alarm.
"He's awake!" Arlyss sang from the cockpit. She hurriedly set the autopilot, then headed towards Wil's bunk located aft of the main bridge, galley and bunking areas.
"Make sure you don't tear him to pieces! That's the result of a LOT of hard meditation, kids!" Patrice smiled, watching Arlyss hug Wil tightly.
Releasing Arlyss, then quietly regarding both her, and Patrice, Wil suddenly exclaimed, "We gotta go back." Though the pain in his side cut through him like lightning with every word he spoke, he pushed on, "They're gonna kill him!"
"Who are going to kill who? What are you talking about? Lots of people were killing people on Dedonne when we left," Arlyss said, anxiously trying to keep him from becoming more agitated.
"They're going to kill Carsten!" Determined to get up, Wil shoved Arlyss off the bunk onto the floor, grasping his side against the pain shooting through him.
"What's going on back there?" Patrice, having gone forward to check on their position, walked back upon hearing the commotion.
"He's delusional again," Arlyss answered, as she rose from the floor, and attempted, once more to get Wil to settle back down on his bunk.
Wil began to push Arlyss away again, then, just as he had nearly pushed her off him, gave up the struggle and slumped back into his bunk, gasping in pain and exhaustion.
"Arlyss, we're still on course for Coruscant. Help me here, please," Patrice said, keeping her tone even as possible, "Wil. You are doing yourself no good by going on this way. I have already relayed what I heard you say during your delirium to Adrian. He and Jain are already headed to Ja'rel," she told him in her most reassuring, authoritative voice.

"Master Patrice, we must go to Ja'rel! It was Carsten I sensed in the Idiot's Array! He has Yeri!" Wil cried out, his blue eyes ablaze with the stabbing pain that also served as the only deterrent to him jumping headlong out of the bunk at that very moment and racing to the cockpit.
"Wil, is there something you could possibly tell me that could sway us from taking you to Coruscant?" Patrice forced Wil to look straight into her eyes.
"You and I are the only people he won't refuse to talk to," Wil said lamely.
"Adrian can handle him, Wil," Patrice became more insistent, her hand now resting on his chest again, as it had before he had awakened.
Wil felt the warmth of the healing Force spreading through his ribcage, the organs finally knitting the last vestiges of injury back together, the flight of darkness from within their cells, a feeling of lightness within himself. He looked into her eyes, gray-green jewels, intelligent, alive, knowing. There was one thing, and he had to say it.
"I have an obligation as a Jedi to my Padawan; it is my duty to find her, Patrice, just as it was your duty to find me and Gantor," the young man stated, his lips pressed together, his eyes closed tightly against the pain.
"'Duty to the order' has been used far too often by Jedi who stubbornly believe it's their way or no way. You have an interesting history, Wil Hedegaard. Your past, though supposedly known by all the Jedi who have been around the Temple in the last twenty-two years, is still clouded in a great deal of mystery. No one really knows the how or the why of your journey from Ja'rel to Coruscant, or why your brother is the way he is, and you are the way you are. I do know that you have a deep sense of duty to your friends and to those who depend upon you for assistance and guidance. You have not failed them in the past, and you shall not fail them now."
Patrice removed her hand from Wil's chest, pulled the covers over him, and tiptoed quietly back to the cockpit, feeling his puzzled eyes watching her leave. Edging a surprised Arlyss out of the pilot's chair, she gingerly eased the Vendor 3 out of hyperspace, with much less hissing and spitting than had occurred on the way in.
"I would ask how you did that, but it probably wouldn't matter," Arlyss said, a bit puzzled by their smooth transition out of hyperspace. "What is more important right now is why?"
"Reset course, help me turn this leadbucket around, and let's get to Ja'rel," Patrice said, her hands already laying in the new course.
"What!? You can't... " Arlyss began, the color draining from her face.

"Yes I can. He's right. Carsten Hedegaard is involved in something that is going to be a lot bigger trouble than even he is used to involving people in, and I intend to stop it before it gets out of hand," Patrice said sternly.
"I think it may already be out of hand; look at that mess back in Crimson City; if that was his handiwork, and he is working for some terrorist organization, then we don't know who we are up against!" Arlyss fought to control the fear she had felt for Adrian ever since they had left Dedonne.
Patrice replied confidently, "Well, we're Jedi; it's our job to find that out," as she set the thrusters and entered the calculations to re-enter hyperspace. "It's the heart of our calling, to find what others have lost, to discover that which has heretofore remained unknown, to bring light to darkness, and bring knowledge to ignorance."
Arlyss said nothing, merely staring straight ahead, as the field of stars zoomed into the lines of hyperspace once more.

********************************
"Entering the Ja'rel system sir," the computer intoned mechanically.
Carsten Hedegaard looked up languidly from yet another data-pad full of figures and calculations. "Landing coordinates already entered and locked?"
"Yes, sir," came the clipped reply.
"My, this thing flies itself, lands itself," Yeri said, having returned to the bridge. She marveled once more at the efficiency of the self-piloting ship as it set down on the surface of Ja'rel Major. "Is there anything it doesn't do?"
"It doesn't answer stupid questions," Hedegaard snapped back, obviously uninterested in her fascination with his ship.
Apparently hurt by his shortness with her, Yeri turned, and walked towards the door leading away from the bridge. "When do we land?"
"We just did. Give me a minute," Hedegaard replied, placing the last data-pad back into its slot. Rising from his command chair, he stood, stretched, and turned to the young woman.
"Finish your drink, Jedi. You won't find any fresh water where we are going," Hedegaard ordered. "That is, unless you don't care about such trivial things as thirst and hunger."
Shooting him a poison look, Yeri downed her drink, set her glass down, and glared at him.
Smiling thinly, Hedegaard continued, "Let's go outside and check out your home planet, see how things look on the other side of the galaxy," he said, pushing her off the bridge, and towards a lift.
The lift stopped after two levels, allowing them to debark directly onto the planet surface with the use of a small ramp. Hedegaard scanned the area quickly, then pushed Yeri ahead of him, grunting, "This way to the rendezvous point."
"Where are we? This doesn't look like anywhere on Ja'rel I've ever been," Yeri said, her voice a fearful whine.
"My goodness, a Jedi Padawan, and you don't even know the geography of your own home planet. They really dragged the bottom of the barrel didn't they?" Hedegaard snorted, prodding her along, the brambles and bushes catching at their clothing. "We're on the eastern continent of Ja'rel, southwestern quadrant, somewhere near the southern shore of Quaazland. Look out, don't get caught unawares by a shamunai-reesa; they eat humans, and are always up for a bit of a snack."
"Well, it wasn't like you could go much of anywhere with a war going on," Yeri replied, as she continued plodding, noting a small cliff-like abutment of rock ahead of them. "Look, you don't think... You lie! They don't eat humans! But, maybe one lives in one of these caves up ahead."
"Okay, Jedi, this is where we stop. I'm to meet my contact here. I don't plan to go anywhere until I meet her," Hedegaard explained testily.
"But, it's cold out here. Maybe she's inside a cave waiting for you," Yeri ventured.
"You're full of ideas today Jedi," Hedegaard replied, yet he prodded her towards what, at closer examination, was seen to be a fissure in the rock wall large enough to admit a human being. Slipping inside the fissure, Hedegaard grasping Yeri's arm behind her to keep her from escaping from him, the pair found themselves inside a hallway that ended a few feet away.
Hedegaard pushed her all the way to the end and muttered, "We'll wait here a while. She'll be here soon."


********************************
"Home sweet home," Jain whispered, gazing out the window at his home planet of Ja'rel.
"Here's Yeri's signal, but it's coming from the southwest quadrant of the eastern continent," Adrian continued monitoring the blinking light on the console in front of them.
Jain turned to Adrian. "That's Quaazland; it's uninhabited, except for a few native animals and plants. Lots of unusual rock formations and dense forests."
"Is there a suitable place to land?" Adrian queried.
"Yes, just a few hundred meters from the tracking signal, there should be a clearing there," Jain answered, peering at the readings coming from the tracker.
Landing in a heavily vegetated area about a hundred meters away from the edge of a rocky cliff, Jain set the X-Wing down in a small clearing just large enough for their ship to fit snugly amongst the scraggly trees and rocks. The pair lit on dry, weedy ground, and made their way into the surrounding forest. Adrian noted a number of boulder outcroppings, which became more frequent as they ventured further away from the cliff's edge, as well as sparse, yellowish undergrowth that had allowed the taller trees to flourish unhindered, if a bit less dense.
"Wait Jain," Adrian said, as he peered around a large boulder at the surrounding empty expanse before them. "Something's feels a bit off here."
"What is it master?" Jain queried, "I don't see anything."
"Stay in the present moment, Jain, release your anxieties, and allow the Force to work through you; then, you will sense it too."
"I still can't see any-hmmph!" Jain's bumbling mutterings were interrupted when he collided with something solid and inflexible, something that, had he trusted his eyes, should not have been there at all. Pressing against the unseen object with his hands he felt no "give", rather a solid presence, as if he were pressing against a wall, an invisible wall, though a wall nonetheless.

Having stopped several feet back of his impetuous apprentice, Adrian murmured, "Impressive, most impressive." He continued to search the clearing, but could see no physical trace of the obstacle in front of them, other than some scattering of underbrush and particulate from the ground, and trees surrounding them; it appeared as if truly nothing was there. But, something was there. There was no doubt about that. It was cloaked somehow, but how was one of many alarming questions. Because if such technology existed without the Jedi being aware of it, a great many other things could also exist of which the Jedi were not aware.
Closing his eyes, Adrian calmed his breathing and concentrated. He remembered what he had learned from the beginning of his training as a Jedi: no technology exists that can conceal itself from a calm and fully focused Jedi. A Jedi is capable of seeing through any disguise to reveal the true form beneath. As he withdrew into himself, Adrian's awareness of the omnipresent Force intensified, enabling him to open himself to its revelation of the mystery concealed beneath the cloak
Refusing to wait for orders, Jain shook his head, picked up a stone and threw it at the invisible wall in front of him. Only his Jedi reflexes prevented him from being struck by the boomeranging stone bouncing off the invisible impediment in front of him. Jain regarded the place where, he thought, the stone had bounced off the invisible something, and exhaled forcefully, then looked at his master, his exasperation with himself greater than ever.
Opening his eyes slowly, Adrian again looked at the clearing, still seeing nothing but open space. Then, as if he were watching a moving holo, he watched the scene before him slowly darken and solidify, altering its shape. Slowly the shape of a ship was revealed to him, an eerie, hard-shaped jet obscurity that appeared to absorb all surrounding light into its surface. It was impossibly to make out any details on the ship's surface because of that strange function - as if the ship itself simply ripped a piece from the surrounding daylight, leaving only a vacuum of dead space in its place.
Jain pressed his hands against the invisible barrier more forcefully, testing its strength, to see if there was some way to get through it when, from behind it, he heard a faint humming sound. Adrian moved to pull his apprentice out of the way, but before he could reach the boy, Jain was flung several meters away, landing next to a small tree, his body merely bruised, but his pride severely shaken.
"Let's go on; we shall document this discovery in our official report to the Jedi council upon our return," Adrian stated to Jain, as he passed the ship, still puzzling mentally at this extraordinary find. Jain got up, shook out his robes, shot a grimace towards the barren clearing and silently followed his master into the brush.
The pair pushed aside low growths of brambles, making their way through the small wooded area into a hilly upcountry. Surveying the rocky outcroppings of the foothills ahead of them, Adrian observed, "There is an interesting rock formation ahead, with several openings in it, possibly indicating underground caverns. Such formations appear to be common everywhere on Ja'rel, not just on the western continent." Moving cautiously, they approached the nearest fissure in the leaden rock face that jutted up out of the soil.
Noting it was a false entrance, possibly something man-made, Adrian turned to move back out into the light, when he noticed a second, smaller fissure within the wider opening of the first, to his right as he faced outward. Though the aperture appeared narrow, both he and Jain fit through it easily.
As they entered the gap in the rock, Adrian vaguely sensed not only Yeri's presence, but someone else vaguely familiar inside the cave. Realizing any sort of indication, vocal or otherwise, could give them away, he merely nodded to Jain, indicating they should go inside.
The entrance appeared to penetrate only a few meters into the hillside, before it came to a dead end at two immense solid slabs. As Adrian and Jain came closer to the upright tiers, they could see they were actually placed so that they were approximately a foot and a half apart. If one turned sideways, one could squeeze between the two pilasters and enter a smaller chamber behind them. Once the two Jedi had accomplished this, they caught an intricately carved flight of stairs that appeared to lead even further into the caverns.
Quickly descending the stairs, the Jedi entered a vast chamber, lit with some type of gently shimmering mechanism. The sides of the room lined with a number of what appeared to be workstations of some sort complete with chairs carved out of rock. An arcane collection of weapons from different eras adorned the smooth slate walls, as well as several holo-crons spread before them upon an intricately carved stone altar. Off to one corner of the huge chamber was an immense transparisteel cabinet, hung with rows and rows of thin golden discs. 'Probably information storage,' thought Adrian.
The Jedi left this room, its glimmering lights casting their faint shadows against the smooth rock walls, entering a much narrower hallway that forked off in two directions. Angular characters carved in the walls appeared to indicate the destination of each of the underground passages. Sensing Yeri even closer, Adrian indicated they move to the left. After what seemed at least ten meters of dark, yet dry passageway, they came into what seemed to be a training chamber. In a far corner, a nicely carved stone rack stood, containing a lone, obviously double bladed lightsaber, seemingly on display. What appeared to be a sparring arena took up most of the space in the vast cavern; in the center of the arena stood Carsten Hedegaard, his face wearing the same wily smirk Adrian remembered from the first time he had met him.
"I should have known you would come after her," Carsten spoke, his tone a tiny scoff. When he at first had heard the coming of footsteps he had soon realized through the Force that, instead of just one person it was two, so it could not possibly be Lady Malicia. He had sensed Adrian, then the other Jedi, whom he couldn't quite place - but not Wil... though he hadn't expected him, having witnessed his injury during the aftermath of the explosion.
"Carsten Hedegaard," Adrian murmured an almost inaudible sigh. This was an encounter he would have gladly skipped, not from fear of the man standing in front of him in the annoyingly jaunty pose, but because nothing positive ever seemed to be accomplished any time he met him.
Continuing to eye the two newcomers with dissatisfaction, Hedegaard turned to the younger Jedi behind Adrian, more than likely his apprentice. "I haven't seen you before," he addressed Jain coolly, "New kid on the block?"
"Hedegaard!" Adrian said loudly, "We are not here for niceties. Hand over Yeri. This is not a request."
"You give me orders, young one?" Carsten looked back at Adrian, his expression still one of detached amusement mixed with disappointment.
"The Jedi apprentice, now," Adrian continued, his voice calm and quiet, studying Hedegaard.
Walking towards the two Jedi, feeling a slight sensation of fear coming from the younger Jedi, Carsten Hedegaard was surprised by the sudden surge of the Force he sensed welling up in Yeri. He turned around to face her, his confusion clear in his expression, having thought the Force-diminishing drug Vayndron he had administered to her should have been effective for several more hours.
"What have you done to her!?" Jain shouted angrily at Hedegaard, who stood in front of Yeri, but Hedegaard continued to regard him with a puzzled stare. Pushing past Hedegaard, Jain rushed to the blonde girl behind him. "Yeri! Are you all right?
Adrian stood back, reaching out with the Force, attempting a deeper understanding of what was happening. Convinced something unusual was at work in the dank, musty cavern, he regarded Carsten Hedegaard and Yeri evenly. "Jain," he whispered hastily, "Take great care; things here are not what they seem."
Ignoring Jain's demonstrations, Yeri interposed herself between Adrian and Hedegaard, her mouth forming a cold smile. "Address me properly, Mellbergh; I am Lady Malicia," she asserted, a primal glow emitting from the slits of her eyes as she peered at her quarry.
"Yeri... what are you doing?" Jain drew away from her as if he were a small child suddenly approached by a complete stranger.
"She has embraced the Dark Side of the Force," Adrian observed, his voice oddly detached, diffident.
Malicia continued coldly, "The Darths of old are not the only Sith to exist in the galaxy." Malicia chuckled ominously, as she lifted her double-bladed lightsaber to the position of challenge and it hummed to life, her eyes ablaze with the turbulence roiling within her.
"A Sith?" Jain whispered. "Master, she's lying. The Sith were destroyed long ago. Hedegaard has done something to her. And he's no danger to us," Jain reasoned, "He doesn't even carry a weapon."
"Jain, think!" Adrian warned cautiously, "The most dangerous opponents do not carry weapons; they are capable of much worse than a malcontent armed only with a blaster! Remember the Idiot's Array!" Adrian held his hands still, palms flat to his sides, his eyes warily studying Hedegaard and the former Jedi Padawan now glaring back at him.
"You worry too much, Master, they're not so dangerous," Jain's innocent bravado encouraged by the angry woman in front of him, what she had been, and what she claimed to be, undeterred by the presence of Carsten Hedegaard.
"She has already outsmarted several Jedi, murdered the Force only knows how many people; Hedegaard has done that, and has also managed to evade the authorities for more than ten years... "
With a guttural intonation akin to the bellow of a bloodthirsty animal, she rushed Adrian and Jain, assaulting both in a challenge primeval in its ferocious intent.
"I would call that VERY dangerous!" Adrian yelled after Jain as, utilizing the Force, he averted Malicia's initial blows, pushing her back to her initial position behind Carsten Hedegaard. Undaunted, Malicia charged the pair of Jedi again, twin crimson blades burning hot on either side of her, at waist level, as if to bisect any man in her path.

Jain met the Sith Witch's charge, quickly moving out of the path of the oncoming blade, his saber clashing with it, hissing angrily, the point of contact emitting random sparks flying that ricocheted off the walls of the cave in a claustrophobic fireworks display. Adrian, his concentration complete, flipped over the other blade effortlessly, pushing Malicia back, again, to her earlier position, also readying Jain to prepare a new defense. Though a graceful display of strength and skill to the casual onlooker; the true danger and brutality of the conflict remained known only to those involved, and then, perhaps only vicariously.
"Whatever you're playing at, Yeri, this is the end, you Shoo'an filth!" Jain spat at Malicia, bald aggression matching her attacks, blow for blow, pummeling her from the sides as well as in direct assault.
Snarling malevolently, Malicia commenced yet another fierce onslaught. Double blades blazing furious vermilion as they flashed crosswise to meet Jain's defenses, making continued attacks at Adrian, she pressed her advantage. Jain stumbled backwards, his height and strength unable to compensate for her superior agility and speed.
Adrian showed no sigh of letting up his defenses, repelling the other end of Malicia's saber with a mere flex of his wrist, or an upturn of his palm. An occasional, graceful lunge or flip on his part, and Malicia would emit a sour yelp in his direction, though she appeared to prefer to focus her attacks on his hapless apprentice. Jain's breathing had grown labored, his steps somewhat more haphazard, as Malicia had backed him into a corner.
"Well, it would seem that so far, I'm just not offering the great Adrian Mellbergh much of a good time. Mellbergh, give it up; show me what you can do with a lightsaber. Your "no weapons, use the Force" philosophy is terribly boring, you know. You really meant all that garbage you taught in your classes," Malicia scoffed softly at Adrian. "You are a nobody, you never fought in a war, you are nothing but a spoiled rotten prince... you were trained by an old spinster who commits lascivious acts with demons!" Malicia taunted Adrian, "Oh, don't you know where so many of the half-breed Yuuzhan Vong came from? I'll tell you.."
Ignoring the dun möch, Adrian continued to push back Malicia's physical attacks. He knew all about such Sith verbal weaponry; however, he remained puzzled at the enigmatic behavior of the unarmed Hedegaard. Though Hedegaard was no Jedi, he also was certainly no Sith. He lacked the bald, naked aggression that was the stock in trade of every order of Sith ever to come into existence, including the alleged Order of Sith Witches.

Malicia pressed on: "And you seem to have some silly notion you will become a king! A king of fools you will be! Kiria will be destroyed, and you will be to blame!" Malicia tossed her long honey blonde hair back and cackled hideously, drawing the attention of the now-bored Carsten Hedegaard.
Appearing to be annoyed, Hedegaard looked at her, his mouth poised to make some remark. Then, appearing to think better of it, he remained silent. Shrugging, he walked to the far side of the arena, near where the Jedi had entered, and stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned to watch the festivities once more.
"So, you still refuse to do any REAL battle, Mellbergh? We'll see about THAT!" Malicia stopped in the midst of her attack and, in a classic fit of Sith rage, split her saber into two separate weapons. Believing this to be an effort to increase her attack-rate, Jain sprinted towards Malicia, then redoubled behind her, forcing her to spin about, and use both hands, each independent of the other.
'Excellent move, Jain, excellent,' thought Adrian, though he could sense his apprentice's weariness increasing tenfold, as Malicia's furor served only to feed her strength even more. As if she had suddenly become aware that this independence of hands gave her an extra advantage, Malicia stabbed ferociously at Jain, pushing him back further, as she simultaneously turned sideways and stabbed recklessly at Adrian, succeeding, at times, in distracting him enough to prevent him from strengthening his apprentice.
"Face it, Jain, I AM superior to you; you cannot... " Malicia taunted Jain, only to realize she only possessed half her saber. As she met his parry of her onslaught, her other saber half had been forced out of her other hand and flown over to the other side of the arena.
"It would seem my master has other plans... " Jain began, his wheezing breath cutting off whatever remark he had meant to make. The warning look he caught on his master's face should have been enough to tell him to stop this line of fire.

********************************
Pale indigo torches high over a high-backed granite throne gave the entire chamber a sense of sepulchral gloom. Lady Nemesis peered at the holo-player, taking in the conflict as it occurred simultaneously in the underground chamber on Ja'rel. Her closest confidantes, Lady Feral and Lady Isis, stood by her sides, also observing the battle; neither women spoke for a long time, each deep in thought.

"Lady Feral, leave us. You have work to do on Orrida Dedonne. And where Lady Malicia has failed; you shall not," her words left no opportunity for misunderstanding or second chances.
"Yes, milady," Lady Feral turned, inclined her honey colored head, and hurried out of the chamber, as the battle continued, intensifying.
'Malicia will not survive. She has already broken one rule of engaging the enemy: do not allow yourself to lose control. She makes conflict too important and she has not maintained control of Hedegaard.'
'Instead of orchestrating this foolhardy decoy-mission utilizing Hedegaard, she should have managed on her own. Of course, he is useful to us, but I cannot risk losing his expertise just because some petty minion violates the trust Hedegaard and our organization share. The young Jedi will have to be destroyed; he knows too much about us now. She has let him see too much. And the seer, she should not have drawn him into the cave. Luring the seer and his apprentice to a point where capture is certain is one thing; showing them the interior of the cave, quite another.
'It is well I have studied the holo-crons of Palpatine and his failures as well as his successes; unlike that fool, I know when to quit.' She continued to consider this conundrum, as she watched the ongoing conflict in silence.

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

"You just seem so... so passive, Mellbergh. C'mon, show me your stuff. You don't want to just let this Padawan do all the work, do you?" Malicia snorted, guffawing as she thrust continually at a now obviously flagging Jain. Adrian continued to maneuver about her, still cautious, still defensive, yet unable to completely disarm her. "You couldn't even protect yourself from a simple Force grip, silly man. It was really difficult not to laugh out loud, right into your face in class. And you claim to be able to defend yourself without the use of a lightsaber... yeah right."
'... part of our path lies in defending the innocent... ' Patrice's words hummed within his brain, defying the logic he had come to accept as a higher good. Had he been so wrong in commencing a new path, refusing to take up his lightsaber again?

Reaching for his saber which had been untouched throughout most of this mission, Adrian caught a glimpse of Hedegaard slowly maneuvering towards the door. Having faced Hedegaard before, it confused Adrian slightly that he, throughout this ordeal, had seemed disengaged from it all, as if he had not been the main player in this game. It dawned on Adrian that the antagonist throughout had not been Hedegaard as he had suspected, but Yeri all along.
Flipping over Malicia and Jain, Adrian landed effortlessly in front of the escaping Carsten Hedegaard. Holding up his arm with his hand palm forward, his intention clear to Carsten Hedegaard; Hedegaard hesitated, then stopped in his tracks. Eyeing Adrian suspiciously, he rocked back on his heels, then again sported the smirk Adrian vaguely recalled him wearing the first time he ever saw him, "You are not going anywhere!"
"Step aside," Hedegaard returned coolly, surprising Adrian, as he grabbed his hand, twisted it around, and pushed him up against the back wall. "I warn you, Mellbergh," he continued, as he attempted to push past Mellbergh into the tunnel.
"So do I," Adrian rejoined, Force-pushing Hedegaard backwards into the arena, barely missing the battling Malicia and Jain by mere centimeters. "I won't let you go as Patrice did!"
Hedegaard pulled himself up from the floor, while glaring at Adrian; eyes glinting. In a quick move he tried to outsmart Adrian and pass him without being stopped, but Adrian had anticipated the move and used the Force to push him into the wall.
Surprised by the ease which Adrian had displayed in halting his escape, Hedegaard considered his options; not getting a chance to think long he was forced to act quickly when Adrian tried to use the Force to contain him. Countering a Force slam strong enough to knock any normal man several feet through the air, Hedegaard blocked the blow by moving sideways and kicking Adrian with two short kicks to his side.
Steadying himself, Adrian managed a hit to Hedegaard's stomach, leaping over his outthrust leg, but was caught in mid-air by a forceful blow to the stomach. As if he had felt nothing, Adrian shot a heavy wave of Force energy toward Hedegaard, sending him reeling against the weapons stand, knocking it to the floor, setting both Jain and Malicia off balance as well.
Hedegaard had had some Force training, or at least had been taught to fight, that much was clear, Adrian thought, flipping over his apprentice and Malicia once more to meet Hedegaard head on in the midst of the floor. 'Though he's always been ready with a verbal comeback, he doesn't really utilize dun möch. It's as if he considers Yeri inferior to him, which, in truth, she is. I cannot see how they could both be Sith-trained,' thought Adrian, forcing Hedegaard into the cave wall, again feeling the Force through him pushing Hedegaard to the defensive. 'Though he has Force abilities equaling any Jedi or Sith, his style lacks raw aggression; it is better thought out.' Locked once more in a purely physical battle of perseverance, Adrian sensed he knew how and where Hedegaard had been trained; he just could not place it.
Carsten Hedegaard, his focus on Adrian, blocked and dodged any advances made by Adrian, though constantly avoiding the offensive. Malicia, on the other hand was all offense, her cloak and dress swinging wildly around her, as she slammed viciously at Jain with the full affront of Force and saber.
Malicia disengaged herself from her battle with Jain momentarily, instead watching Carsten Hedegaard battle Adrian Mellbergh, with glittering eyes and malicious grin. Jain, suddenly idle, turned to catch a glimpse of his master and the brigand, then gasped in horrified surprise as his saber flew out of his hand and into Carsten's, disarming the young Padawan. Thinking quickly, Jain managed a half-flip over Malicia only to be caught in mid-air by her blade arcing over her head.
Hot pain seared through Jain's leggings, as Malicia's blades swiftly cut across his thighs, her precise accuracy disabling him from further combat. Jain fell to the hard cave floor with a thud, his face pulled into a tight grimace, clutching his legs, his body curled into a fetal position.
Wrenching the injured Padawan up off the floor brutally with one arm, ignoring his moans of pain, and the bright thick droplets of blood dripping from his injured legs, she crushed her free arm about his neck, holding her lightsaber high over his chest.
"Jain, I am sorry my love, but this is the end for us," Malicia spat, her hair hanging in her face in honey-streaked tatters, a feral, expression in her eyes. All pretenses at bravado had long since vanished from Jain's demeanor; though he attempted to keep his breathing even, his face was pallid.
"Adrian. Your Padawan's life is in your hands! Will you come freely so that he may live?" Malicia called out to Adrian viciously, her icy tone showing no hint of any of the intimacy she had once shared with the young Padawan.
"He has done nothing to you, Yeri," Adrian backed away from Hedegaard, lowering his hands. He spoke gently, still hoping to defuse the situation. To his surprise the turmoil raging inside her seemed to increase as she tightened her hold on Jain. She braced herself alongside the limp Padawan, looking sharply at Adrian.

"Does he mean nothing to you, Yeri?" Adrian pressed.
"He is Tareen filth, to be disposed of by Lady Malicia," Malicia snarled.
Adrian might have believed her if he hadn't sensed her distress in the Force. "I will not fight you, Yeri," he stated evenly as he tossed his still-unused lightsaber aside, his eyes serene, his face smooth. "Release him," he indicated the ashen Padawan, whose face had blanched white from loss of blood.
"No one leaves here alive," Malicia shouted out, her rage fueled by the Jedi's continued unwillingness to fight her. She dropped the nearly-unconscious Jain to the floor as so much dead wood, his lanky body landing on the floor with a dull thud. Lifting her lightsaber high over his defenseless throat, readied for the kill, Malicia emitted a high pitched screech, "Why not kill this useless scum now?"
The gleaming carmine saber skewered downwards towards Jain's chest, its merciless hissing reverberating deafeningly throughout the cavern. Before Adrian dared move, a bluish light stayed its angry sibilance, blocking its death-blow, mere millimeters from its murderous finish. The two lightsabers crackled static against each other, as Malicia slowly realized what had happened. She lifted her face upward to meet that of Carsten Hedegaard. "You!?" she spat, grinding her teeth, staring at him with cold bewilderment.
"Being lied to isn't my cup of tea, and being taken advantage of irks me to no end," Carsten Hedegaard drawled languidly, his eyes narrowing. "Whatever the justification you come up with for this absurd charade, not paying me is your greatest mistake."
"You thought I intended to pay you?" Malicia backed away from him, emitting a derisive snort. "My, aren't we the naive one," she sneered. "The Order of Sith Witches does things a bit differently than the Nightsisters of Dathomir. For one thing, we don't take it out in trade; for another, we don't pay our consorts for their services."
Sensing Malicia's emotional back down from the duel stance, though she still held her lightsaber at the ready, Hedegaard straightened up, de-ignited Jain's saber, tossed it contemptuously to the far side of the arena, then resolutely turned on his heels and walked briskly towards the exit into the tunnel.
"I guess I'll just have to collect from your master. See you around, Malicia," he tossed back over his shoulder, a hint of mockery tingeing her name as it left his tongue.

Tossing her long blonde hair about her shoulders, Malicia looked after him, her rage boiling anew. "No one walks away from me! EVER!" she shrieked, racing after him. Her upturned blade held in a downward arc towards Hedegaard's back, intending to skewer him, she did not sense the disturbance of the Force as he stepped aside, turning on her.
Summoning the other half of Malicia's lightsaber that Adrian had knocked out of her hand, Hedegaard arched the crimson blade level, its humming becoming a chorus of song, an impromptu resolution of the symphony of battle. Side-stepping her again, he swung with both hands, cutting the saber through the air in a perfect arc around himself at shoulder-level towards her, then steadying himself with his body half-turned to the side, abruptly stopping the saber in a vertical position parallel to his head.
Severed neatly at the base of the neck, Malicia's head flew off and rolled over next to where Jain lay prone on the floor. Its eyes agape, an expression of terrified rage on its face, the head stopped, its empty stare contemptible in its blankness.
Gasping in horror, Jain looked into the vacant eyes of the girl he had known and loved as Yeri until half-an-hour earlier. He turned away, vomiting profusely.
Carsten Hedegaard looked scornfully at the head, before glancing up at Adrian; holding the still-ignited lightsaber at the ready, he said, "You want a piece of me too, boy?"
Adrian regarded Jain, the head, and Hedegaard levelly, closing his eyes only a moment before turning a steely glare onto Hedegaard. "Not particularly," he replied, arching his eyebrows and nodding briefly at the head.
"Smart kid," Hedegaard smirked, de-igniting the lightsaber and hanging it on his belt. "I'd like to stay and chat, but, time is money!" He quickly turned and departed through the narrow passageway.
There was something about that gait of Hedegaard's, Adrian thought, incredulous, as he watched Hedegaard disappear from sight. Turning back to Jain, he regarded his fallen Padawan who, having finished vomiting, was attempting to stanch the flow of blood from his slashed legs with his robes. "Can you stand?" Adrian queried. Not waiting for the obvious answer, he walked over to his Padawan, and kneeled down to take a closer look. After a quick examination to determine the extent of Jain's cuts, Adrian grabbed his lightsaber, ignited it to its lowest setting, then set to work cauterizing the grimacing Jain's wounds.
"Why didn't I think of that, master?" moaned Jain, once his wounds were closed, yet still unable to stand.
"Well, most Jedi think of their lightsaber only as a weapon; when one stops thinking in traditional terms, one is open to new possibilities," Adrian said simply. He doubted this was the first time a lightsaber had been used this way; however, if he could manage a teachable moment with his Padawan out of this mayhem, so much the better.
Adrian's thoughts were interrupted by Jain's startled gasps. "Look, master!" he cried, pointing towards where Malicia's body had fallen.
Turning toward the spot; his breath caught in his throat. Nothing was left of her but a small pile of black soot. One half of her de-ignited lightsaber lay beside the ashes - Carsten Hedegaard had taken the other half with him when he left.
Walking over to where the body had been, Adrian took a small sack from inside his tunic, and kneeled down next to the pile of ashes that had once been Yeri Velkun. He reached out with his hand over the smoldering ashes. Unsure of what he was doing he whispered, barely audibly, "May the Force be with you."
"What are you doing?" Jain hissed. "She was... a... Sith! And you show... her... respect?"
"Jain," Adrian admonished his Padawan sternly, yet gently, "We Jedi respect all life, good or evil. Failing to do so makes us no better than those we fight."
He painstakingly began to scoop the velvety soot into the sack with his hands, his temples throbbing as he filled the bag. As he tied the top of the bag and secured it, having collected what he supposed was "evidence", and made to place it inside an inner pocket of his robes, Adrian noticed the walls of the cavern beginning to shimmer.
"Master? Master!" he could hear Jain shouting. He opened his mouth to respond, but he did not sense himself speak. Setting the sack of ashes down, he walked out to the mouth of the cave, overlooking a vast plain. A boundless vista of stars blinked as in greeting, thousands of men and women bowed in obeisance. But, they seemed troubled. They were a massive army preparing to battle for survival on an immense plain, as the Navy above prepared to do battle in the skies. Then, he saw lightsabers clashing, many hundreds, perhaps even thousands of them, a massive defense had been mounted. They were barely hanging on, Force powers weakened against an enemy they had not sensed... He saw many thousands of bodies; their life drained away, blood spilled on the field of battle, breath drained away in the vacuum of space... NO! He saw Gantor, fighting bravely, he saw Jain, his courage unequaled, even by the best of the Jedi, he saw Wil Hedegaard... STOP, NO MORE!!! He brought one hand to his face, attempting to deny the vision - it held, not a lightsaber, but the royal scepter of Kiria. NO, NO MORE!!! Lifting his other hand, it held another object, something he had never touched in his entire life - the life-staff Patrice had carried into the Jedi Council Chamber! NOOOO! He sensed himself pleading with it to come to life, to bring life instead of the death that seemed to await them all...
"MASTER!" Blinking, Adrian slowly regained the present, recognized where he was standing, and stared out at the open Ja'relian landscape stretching for miles with trees scattered about the forested plains. This must be the rear entrance, concealed for quick getaways, perhaps, Adrian thought.
Jain stared wide-eyed at Adrian, concerned. Waving the Padawan's disquiet aside, Adrian walked gingerly over to him; using the corner of his cloak, he scooped Yeri's ashes, which had become scattered during the disquieting vision, back into the sack. When it was full, he placed it into a larger sack, which he sealed and tucked into a concealed compartment in his belt. Reaching down he allowed Jain to take hold of his arm, as he grabbed him around the waist to assist him up into an upright stance. Shaking his head silently, Adrian indicated to Jain their work there was finished.
"You seem all right now. I think we can try to get you out of here now," Adrian said, a bemused expression on his face.
"Back the way we came, Master?" Jain asked, hoping not to face the narrow stairway again.
"It's important that we investigate whatever she had concealed here; those golden discs and holo-crons could go a long way to explaining who she was and what she was up to," Adrian explained as they entered the large hall.
Eagerly, Adrian neared the transparisteel cabinet where the golden discs had been suspended. He grasped the handle of his lightsaber; ready to utilize it to open the cabinet, then appeared to think better of it.
"Why not, Master? Surely the burning transparisteel wouldn't damage them?" Jain ventured, waiting behind Adrian, leaning against the cave wall for support.
"It's not worth the effort, my dear Padawan; look!"
Before their eyes, the discs began to slowly disintegrate, their solid form disintegrating into so much golden shimmering dust, which fell into a heap in the bottom of the cabinet. Turning to the far side of the room, where the holo-crons had sat on the carved stone altar, they saw nothing but heaps of black ashes and soot, curls of smoke rising above the altar.
"Master, is there any way we can save any of this stuff?" Jain asked.
"I'm afraid not. We'd best be out of here, in case anything else ah, dissipates," Adrian said, though he appeared to hesitate somewhat.
"Master?" Jain peered at Adrian, again concerned.
Ending his hesitation, Adrian replied, "It's okay, Jain. Let's go."

********************************
Patrice descended cautiously from Vendor 3, followed by Arlyss, who was assisting Wil. Despite Patrice's extensive efforts, his wounds were far from completely healed and he walked with great difficulty.
"Wil, you really should stay onboard; we can leave the ship sealed. I don't sense any danger here," Patrice said bluntly.
"I must find Yeri; she is my responsibility," Wil insisted, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber instinctively.
Nodding northwards in response, Patrice trudged away from the ship, towards a rocky outcropping that appeared to be covered by a great amount of brush. "Beyond this outcropping appear to be some steep cliffs; we are in the foothills of a mountainous area."
"Are we on the eastern or western continent?" Arlyss asked, having spent a good part of their journey soothing the still partially delirious Wil.
"Eastern. Be on the look out for any unusual animal life, especially the Shamunai-Reesa. They are the ancestral animals of the Shamunai, though not sentient. However, they are fierce, carnivorous creatures, and may attack, even if not provoked. They do not care for humans much," Patrice replied sagely.
"Thanks a lot. Glad to know we're all safe and sound. You bring us to the nicest places! Wil, why do you have to come from such a scary place?" Arlyss hissed at the hapless Jedi as he leaned into her.
Grinning casually, despite the pain, he muttered, "Oh, it's all part of my devilish charm! Get's 'em every time!"
Reaching the foot of the cliffs, Patrice motioned them to stop. "Do you hear something?"
"People?" Wil hissed.
"Who goes there?" came a shout from above the trio.
Looking up, the three spied Adrian, face stern and troubled. Not the sort of greeting Patrice and the others had hoped for.
"How do we get up there?" Arlyss shouted.
Adrian waved some, indicating a steep path some hundred meters to their right.
"Easy come, easy go," Arlyss said to Wil pointedly.
"I can manage it," he insisted. Following Patrice, the young Jedi steadied himself against the stone face of the cliff, leaning into the rock, balancing himself as he pushed up onto each next step. Arlyss, poised to catch him should he fall, breathed a huge sigh of relief when they reached the summit of the cliff face.
Clasping Wil about his waist, Patrice guided him to a nearby boulder. "You really need to rest now. No more mountain climbing for you, young man!"
"Oh, I think he could probably go in for some rancor wrestling, don't you think?" came an attempt at humor from Adrian that felt flat with all of them. Patrice fixed her stern gaze on her former apprentice; he shook his head, attempting to ward off the question that he knew would touch off an explosive reaction from Wil.
Arlyss turned towards Adrian and gasped; his ashen face and keen amber eyes betraying his recent trial in the nearby cave. "Adrian! What has happened? Something..." She ran to him, and pulled him into an embrace, holding him tightly to her. He kissed her forehead softly, before breaking away to walk over to Wil, and place a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Yes. We can discuss it all in a minute," he evaded her question, focusing on the struggling Wil. "Wil, are you... " Adrian began, his voice catching in his throat.

"Where's Jain?" Arlyss and Patrice asked him in unison. Though Wil looked around in the hopes of spotting Yeri, Adrian did not mention her, but merely nodded.
Adrian walked away from Wil towards a clearing in front of a wood and brush thicket behind them; Jain lay in a clump of grass, on a small blanket, sleeping peacefully. "He has lost quite a bit of blood, Patrice. Do you think... "
"Sure," Patrice replied, allowing Wil to rest, and heading towards the clearing. "But do tell us what happened. Something has happened." Her voice trailed after her as she walked into the clearing and knelt beside the prone figure of the sleeping Padawan.
"Yes, it has. We followed Yeri's signal here, where we found her tracker, broken, outside this cave... " Adrian began.
"Where is she?" Wil exclaimed.
"Wil, wait. There's more. Hear me out... and don't interrupt, please," Adrian spoke gently. He had taken a seat at Wil's feet. Arlyss had sat down next to him, and had invited him to lean his head against her shoulder.
Wil nodded silently, comprehending little, but willing Adrian to continue. "We figured they had gone into this cave outside of which we found the tracker, so we went in... we found her inside. With Carsten Hedegaard."
"I knew he was involved!" Wil exclaimed, "Come on Adrian, where is Yeri? Did he do anything to her?"
Arlyss shot a warning look at Wil, who fell still, allowing Adrian to continue.
"Wil, I don't know how to tell you this, but... " Adrian slowly began, feeling the sadness well up in him, as he forced himself to complete the sentence, "Wil... I'm sorry... Yeri is dead... "
"No," Arlyss whispered as she raised her hand to her mouth in shock, the weight of the news feeling heavy on their shoulders.
Wil fixed his eyes on Adrian, the tears welling in them, his bottom lip quivering. "Did she try to fight him, try to escape from him? Did he hurt her?" His hands clenched in fists, Wil's face had become ashen.

"Wait Wil, there is more... " Adrian continued, "We came here believing Yeri was Carsten's prisoner, but she had us all fooled. She was not who she appeared to be; in reality, she was Lady Malicia, a Sith Witch."
"She was what?" Wil exclaimed, his disbelief plain in his wide, tear-filled eyes. "This is not funny, Adrian. Where is she? What really happened?"
"This is no joke, it's the truth Wil," Adrian said, "She turned on us, and she almost killed Jain. She even attacked Carsten Hedegaard when he refused to help her finish the job."
"You are lying!" Wil spat at him, as he stumbled to his feet, agitated. "This isn't possible!"
"Hedegaard killed her," Adrian continued, a lump in his throat, tears filling his eyes,
"What are you saying?" Wil whispered as he slumped back down on the ground in complete and utter shock, grasping his aching side. "How could I have not seen this? I should have seen this," Wil moaned, his voice shaking with raw pain. "If I had seen, then perhaps I could have helped her... guided her... "
"Wil, she was already lost to us," Adrian tried, but Wil looked harshly at him. He pushed himself up slowly from the ground, still glowering at Adrian, his anger soon turned into deep sorrow and grief.
Wil turned on his heel, headed towards the brush thicket, limping awkwardly away from his friends. Adrian moved to go after him, but Patrice held him back.
"Let him be," she said slowly, "He will need time to sort this out." Nodding, Adrian walked back to Arlyss and placed his arms protectively about her. Jain looked thoughtfully after Wil, his face a vague mask, revealing nothing.
After a few moments, Patrice left Adrian and Arlyss to watch over Jain, and walked through the clearing into the brush. Spying Wil sitting alone on a large overturned log, sobbing into his robes soundlessly, she approached him soundlessly. Though she had seen many horrors in her day, Patrice never failed to be moved by those things she felt from others through the Living Force. With Wil she could not help but sense his intense dismay, sadness and inner torment at the loss of his Padawan. Aware that Wil had grown extremely proud of Yeri over the last few days, Patrice knew the acknowledgement that he didn't see her true nature meant also, in his view, that he was to blame for the entire situation.

Perhaps he was not ready to talk. Maybe she should return to the others and wait until later to bring this up. Turning to leave him she heard his weak voice call out to her, "Don't go... " and she looked back at him sitting there, before walking back over to stand beside him. Slowly, she sat down on the log beside him, saying nothing. Eventually he faced her; she took him into her arms and he continued to cry, long, rasping sobs.
"It hurts," he sobbed heartbroken, "It hurts so much... I miss her. Why did this have to happen?"
"Wil." He heard his name. He didn't look up but felt slightly comforted by Patrice, a kind woman, whose motherly arms held him in their strong embrace.
"There are ALWAYS risks. Nothing we do is without its risks. Everything we begin is a risk. A wise man once told me, 'Courage is the willingness to take a risk.'" She nodded at him, as he withdrew from her and dried his tear-reddened eyes on his coarse brown robes, then continued. "None of us knew. I didn't know. Not until now. We found out about the water being poisoned by vayndron on Coruscant after we had left there. Just enough to blind the Council to her presence. She could have dosed us all individually after we left Coruscant; I imagine she might have had some on her person. A minuscule amount goes a really long way, you know."
"You speak as if you're sure she did it. You don't know!" Wil insisted, staring starkly at Patrice, then he lowered his gaze, "I'm sorry Patrice. I didn't mean to accuse you. It just... it just hurts so much... so much I can't breathe."
"I know, and I am sorry too. I wish that there would have been something we could have done," Patrice fell into thought when, hearing some rustling nearby, she turned to see Adrian, Arlyss and Jain approaching cautiously. She nodded, indicating a desire for privacy. "Wil, you've gone through a lot; you've given the Jedi Order a great deal. Don't berate yourself. You are not a failure, just because you are not perfect." She rose gracefully, and bade him accompany her back to rejoin the others.

********************************
"Set headings for the Elrood System. We have work to finish," Patrice set her mouth stubbornly, as if to defy anyone to say otherwise.

"Course set in, Master Patrice," Jain intoned dully.
"Thank you, Jain. Back to the ranch, then," Patrice said, settling back for the long ride.
Jain said nothing, setting about his work. Adrian had headed back to Coruscant with Wil in the x-wing, accepting Patrice's insistence that she "borrow" his Padawan to fly an old ship she had managed to pick up in Tareen City, leaving Wil's ship for some much-needed repairs.
"Jain, contact the Jedi Council, scramble code 1."
"Yes, Master Patrice," the Padawan answered. A few seconds later, a small holo of Bress appeared on the pad just to Jain's right. Patrice leaned forward with interest.
"Master Bress, we have much to tell you of our visit to Ja'rel," she intoned, her eyes glimmering.
"Well, you will be able to tell me sooner than later, it would seem. We have pulled out of the arbitration panel at Dedonne at the request of both the Vryjyk and the Elmasians. They feel the riots were aimed at the Jedi instead of at the arbitration panel. Return to Coruscant immediately for debriefing. Bress out."
"A man of few words, isn't he?" Patrice remarked to Arlyss, who seemed nonplused at the older woman's wry expression, considering the situation. Turning to Jain, Patrice grimaced, "We may as well see what the future holds."

********************************
"So, Patrice," Bress leaned back in his chair as the party from Ja'rel filed in. "Tell me of this Sith who infiltrated the Jedi Order."
"Adrian discovered her," she answered, nodding to her former apprentice.
Adrian crossed in front of the others to stand in front of Bress. "We followed Yeri Velkun's tracker to Ja'rel where we discovered her holed up with Carsten Hedegaard in an underground cavern. We prevented Hedegaard from escaping for a while, which was probably a good thing since he prevented her from killing Jain when she took him hostage." Adrian sighed heavily before continuing.

"At first we believed Yeri Velkun to be Hedegaard's hostage. Then she revealed herself as a Sith. Her fighting style was attack-oriented, passionate, angry. It wasn't difficult for me to believe her, to be honest."
Patrice interrupted him, "What happened next, Adrian?"
"Well, I knew Yeri... Malicia... whoever she was... would kill Jain if I tried to fight her, so I refused to fight. At that point, she and Hedegaard got into a disagreement. Hedegaard turned and walked away from her. She charged him from behind and he killed her with the other half of her own double saber. When she died, her body disintegrated into this." Adrian lifted a small sack from his belt, and placed it on the table in front of Bress.
"And, this is her lightsaber - or half of it," Jain moved from his place behind Adrian, and placed the lightsaber on the table beside the sack. "Carsten Hedegaard has the other half."
Pale sunlight flooded the room, reminiscent, Patrice thought, of another morning, far away, in another time that seemed even further away.
Bress frowned as he studied the lightsaber the contents of the sac, using a small wooden pointer to prod and turn the objects about. "Was anything else found in the cave, Adrian?" Bress peered penetratingly at Adrian.
"Everything we encountered self-destructed just before we escaped, Master Bress. There's nothing left," Adrian explained.
"It may have been Hedegaard's hideaway. He is known as a technological genius, among other things," Bress observed sagely.
"There's more," Adrian added. "First of all there's that ship of Hedegaard's. It would appear that it's equipped with some sort of cloaking device which renders it invisible to the naked eye."
"Invisible? How can such technology have been concealed from us?" Bress asked, more to himself than to Adrian. "And to broaden the question further: how has Carsten Hedegaard come across such a magnificent display of superior technology? These things will, of course, merit further investigation," Bress said, his eyes somber. "You said there was even more. What could make things worse than forbidden cloaking technology for a ship that already can manage to elude every known galactic authority?"

"Carsten Hedegaard was not Force-trained by the same person or persons who trained Malicia, Master Bress. His fighting style is more guarded than hers; he's cunning, animal-like, waiting for a way in, sensing moves on a kinetic level."
"Who trained him then?" Patrice interrupted. "Obviously his skills have improved greatly if he got past you," she spoke sharply.
"Malicia did mention the Nightsisters of Dathomir in mid-taunt," Adrian said sardonically.
"I thought they all died out," Wil interjected.
"The Witches of Dathomir are certainly still there. They keep to themselves, avoiding all outside contact. Normally they don't train males in their 'magic', but if Hedegaard provided something of importance to them, I'm sure they would have made an exception, especially the Nightsisters," Bress said thoughtfully. "The Nightsisters, some say, are much worse than the Sith."
"That's reassuring," Arlyss muttered, her eyes intent on Adrian.
"The Nightsisters have not been known to leave Dathomir for centuries, perhaps not for millennia. However, from time to time, some individuals have left not to return. None ever formed alliances with the Sith or became practitioners of the Sith arts... " Bress continued.
"... Until now!" Patrice interrupted bluntly.
"We must study these artifacts in order to determine if this Malicia was some sort of political malcontent, or, if, indeed, the Sith have again returned. Furthermore, we will make an official statement to the Senate and the planet of Ja'rel concerning Yeri's death. Outside of this room, the true nature of her demise is to be kept secret; to reveal it is to risk a full-scale diplomatic crisis, something we can ill-afford at this time. The official statement is that she was killed in battle," Bress' expression was somber.
"What of Carsten Hedegaard? And the poisoning of the water here at the Temple?" Adrian ventured. "He has a cloakable ship, which makes him practically untraceable. He could have landed here on Coruscant himself, and poisoned the water, perhaps. His hatred of Jedi is well-known."
Shooting Adrian a warning look, Patrice stated, "Hedegaard is a bit too smart for that. He is known to take risks, but I doubt he would be suicidal."

"Perhaps there is a link between... err... Malicia... and the poisoned water?" Wil mouthed softly.
"Considering the strength of the vayndron in the water when it was discovered, it had been placed there not long after Yeri arrived here from Ja'rel," Bress answered. "Coruscant Central Sector Police found an abandoned ship on Cratton Base that had been tracked with a stolen medical shipment from RegMedCom out somewhere in the Meridian Sector or thereabouts. It is likely he met up with Yeri Velkun, and sold her a shipment of vayndron. We have no way to prove it, so the matter has been closed and will not be revealed to anyone outside the Jedi Order and our contacts within CCSP.
"Patrice, brief Master Rhyss on this situation. He will make the official contact with the Ja'relian government. If there are any questions from Ja'rel, they will be forwarded directly to the Jedi Council. The new information regarding Carsten, especially that concerning this cloaked ship, must be given to Galactic Free Alliance Security Authorities, as well as the New Republic Security Forces, and the New Republic Navy."
"Yes, Master Bress," Patrice answered, refraining from the sigh she wished she could make.
Bress continued, "Wil and Jain, both of you go immediately to the hospital section, and get treated. As for the rest of you, I suggest you spend a few days in meditation and rest; you have earned it."
"Master Bress?" Adrian didn't move.
"Yes, Adrian?" Bress waited.
"The time has come that I tender my official resignation from the Jedi Order. I must take up the leadership of my people," he said, his tone even, almost emotionless.
"What has brought this about? You were permitted to take a Padawan learner in the belief you would be able to give him at least six months," Bress answered Adrian.
"When I touched the ashes of... the Sith... I experienced another vision," Adrian stated flatly.
Bress sat up in his chair, grasping its sides, and stared intently at Adrian. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I saw no relevancy to the battle." Adrian stated, puzzled.
"Sometimes it is difficult to know what is or isn't relevant. What did you see?" Bress demanded.
Carefully, Adrian described in minute detail his scooping up of Yeri's ashes, followed by the bold vista of the plain in front of him, the massed armies, the slaughter across planet and sky, the Jedi who fought so bravely for their beliefs. He gazed across the room at his old master, Patrice, and went pale as he described holding the scepter of Kiria in his hands as he came out of the vision. He couldn't bring himself to tell them of his vision of Patrice's lifestaff.
"I suppose I have no choice in this matter," Bress said firmly. Rising from the table, he walked around to a position in front of Adrian. Raising his hand, he stated in his most formal tone, "You are hereby released from your obligations as a Jedi knight. May the Force be with you, King Adrian of Kiria." He paused, met Adrian's eyes, then continued, "May your reign be long and productive and the blessings upon your people many, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, your Grace," Adrian answered, bowing slightly. "I will leave as soon as I can make the arrangements with Kirian Royal Forces for my transportation." Turning to Jain, Adrian smiled warmly. "Goodbye, Jain. May the Force be with you."
Jain, his face somber, nodded at his former master, "Thank you, your Majesty; May the Force be with you, and also with your people."
Without speaking further, Adrian nodded briefly and left the room. Hurrying down the empty passageway, he could not help but wonder if the intense pounding of his heartbeat was loud enough to be heard past the stone walls of the Jedi Temple, throughout the entire cityscape of Coruscant.

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

Rhyss sat in his quarters, his gaunt frame bent over his desk, poring over transcripts of the recent Elmasian-Vryjyk debacle. 'How could things have gone so terribly wrong?' he thought as he read. 'Even that... that... woman... did as she was told. I just don't understand,' he thought, his lips pursing into a frown as he pushed the holo-pad away from him. 'And to top it all off, that foolish Padawan had delusions, poisoned the water, and dragged Carsten Hedegaard into all this. If that damned woman had followed my orders on Ja'rel... '
Pressing his sweaty forehead against his palms, Rhyss sighed, closed his eyes slowly. Wiping his grey-streaked brown hair away from his face, he drew a small holo-cron out of his desk. Switching it on, he soon became immersed in an image of what appeared to be himself as a younger man crouching down beside a beautiful, golden-haired young woman. Her soft and gentle smile sparkled lovingly at the infant she held protectively in her arms. The couple was flanked by two boys, one four years old and another about one and a half. Rhyss stared hard into the hologram, wondering if he would ever be able to reveal his part in everything that had happened.
An abrupt series of raps at the entry to his quarters interrupted his thoughts. Running his fingertips tenderly down the length of the woman's image, Rhyss thought, 'He is not ready yet!' Quickly clicking off the holo-cron and stashing it away in his desk, he brusquely answered the raps, "Enter." Wil Hedegaard limped into the room.
Caught off guard, Rhyss' normally stern face lit up into a smile. "Wil, I am grateful to see you are healing well! That... that woman... you were supposed to return here right away!"
"She saved my life, Master Rhyss. It was I who insisted we proceed to Ja'rel. I had an obligation to the Jedi Order to find my Padawan. Once I had fulfilled my duty, we returned here," Wil stated solemnly.
Regaining his normal composure, the Jedi Master eyed the young man curiously. "You have grown up, Wil. So, what brings you here this evening?"
Wil's voice quivered. He asked, "Master, you knew what I was in for. Why didn't you stop me?"
"Stop you?" Rhyss queried, his weathered face crinkling in puzzlement.
"I was not ready for a Padawan learner. I made mistakes. Now the Jedi Order has paid for my lack of judgment," the young man hung his head, looking at the floor.
"Wil, evil people have always used some form of deceit to distort the judgment of even the greatest of Jedi Masters," Rhyss replied softly.

"Still, master," Wil said, settling down a bit. "You knew something you didn't tell me."
"There is always something we don't know, Wil." Rhyss drew himself up to his full height; even at his age, he towered above Wil. Wil regarded the Jedi master silently. Rhyss' rugged face seemed much older than when Wil had seen him last. "Wil, you have suffered grievous wounds; you need time to heal. Stay here with me for the next few days; I shall care for you myself," Rhyss reached a hand toward him gently.
Wil drew back sharply from Rhyss, replying, "No thank you, Master Rhyss, not now."
"Are you sure?" Seeing his former apprentice once again shake his head in refusal of his proposal, Rhyss sat down on his chair at the desk, facing Wil, sensing his turmoil. "Wil, I know you do not trust me anymore, but you have to know that I would never do anything to hurt you."
"All you ever do is hurt me," Wil heard himself say, his emotions gaining the better of him.
"I beg your pardon?" Rhyss straightened up in the chair, surprised by Wil's outburst.
"I'm sorry... " Wil stopped mid-sentence, stared at Rhyss for a moment, mumbled a hurried good night to the startled Jedi Master, and fled from the room.
Rhyss got up from his chair. "Wil!" he cried out, his voice full of hurt pride and something else... feelings lost on Wil as the door to Rhyss' room hissed closed on his back. Rhyss did not follow him, but slumped back into his chair, deep in thought. 'No, Wil,' Rhyss whispered, staring at the sealed door of his quarters. 'You are not ready!'

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

Adrian placed the last of his possessions into a small trunk. Having taken his leave of most of his colleagues earlier that evening, he was able to finish packing without any interruptions. Of course, there was the matter of saying goodbye to Patrice, but, he suspected she would find her way to Kiria on some pretense or another.
Thinking of his old master, he had to smile. Her almost twisted sense of humor, coupled with her unusual direction in the Jedi order had made for so many of their adventures together. He would miss her and her counsel, even if he disagreed with it much of the time. Wistfully, he put the last of his books and holo-crons into the trunk and snapped it shut.
Walking over to the window, Adrian gazed nostalgically out at the shimmering Coruscant sky. Though it was night, various speeders and the stray late night tram or two would streak past his view, on the way to some distant rendezvous. He leaned against the open window, voicing his thoughts as he looked out.
"Would you come to Kiria and live with me? Would you marry me and be my queen, Arlyss? It would be quite a different life than what you've been accustomed to. Not as exciting, not a lot to do sometimes. And, well, there are some traditions that might be bothersome. We'd have a wedding to plan, as well as the Senate to get off my back once they realized I was marrying a Jedi instead of an ordinary woman, and not a princess at that," Adrian allowed his thoughts to echo through the darkened room.
"And what is wrong with marrying a Jedi?" came the unexpected reply from behind him. "As for boredom, I think after this last mess we got into, something a bit less exciting would be okay," the voice continued in the same take-charge air.
"Arlyss! How long have you been standing there?" Adrian nearly shouted, turning around to face the diminutive feminine Jedi, his face scarlet.
"Long enough to be able to tell you this: I love you Adrian, and I want to marry you," Arlyss smiled.
"You are sure? You don't mind leaving the Jedi Order, and all?" Adrian felt himself grasping her hands, leading her over to the window, though he hadn't dared to smile, not just yet.
"Adrian, a lady of the Irundashii can only marry nobility or royalty. That didn't change when I became a Jedi. It only became a bit more... difficult," she answered, smiling.
"What 'lady' are we talking about?" he queried her, mystified.

"Lady Arlyss Doreth Premorinth, fifth daughter of the Irundashii Lord of Almoreth, of the planet Wynth, in the Wyloff sector," Arlyss said, her thick sarcasm giving her voice a falsetto that was quite humorous. "My, err, 'abilities' were not encouraged, and when I was old enough to rebel, I rebelled in a major way. Becoming a Jedi knight was not exactly what the old folks expected their daughter to do, you know," she laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him, playfully. "I had no desire to wait around until I was sold to be some old geezer's wife on some backwater planet, or worse."
Adrian released her hands, and leaned back against the windowsill for support, appearing pale, and more than a little shocked at Arlyss' story.
"You surprised? People just don't run away to become Jedi knights these days?" she laughed again, a sweet, ringing sound, the best music Adrian had heard in some time. He felt his head lighten, his vision fuzzy around its edges, as the perimeters faded away into blackness, and into the fog of the outer courtyard.
His advisers addressed him emphatically, "Your Majesty, your choices are limited. We cannot delay the deployment of our forces any longer; we MUST defend the system!"
"I cannot act without confirmation; any action could be interpreted as a declaration of war," he felt himself saying. Looking down at himself, he saw himself in the uniform of the Kirian armed forces, and the insignia of the King. An additional insignia appeared on his collar device, next to his Royal insignia, that indicating his obligation to the Royal family of Kiria, and the private insignia, that which was only given to the King upon the occasion of his marriage to the new Queen.
"Your majesty, I shall abide by your decision. You led wisely when we were part of the Jedi Order; no less wisely have you ruled this kingdom. I trust you," Arlyss spoke. It was Arlyss who said these words, "I trust you, Adrian, I trust you."
"Adrian!" Shadows leapt across the ceiling, playing at each other, receding. "Adrian!? What is it?" A gentle hand held his head up, another guided a small bottle to his mouth, allowed him a sip of Renan Wine, then carefully guided him to a sitting position.
"You saw something, didn't you?" Arlyss stated. It wasn't a question.
"Arlyss, do you trust me?" Adrian whispered.
"Of course, I trust you. I just told you I'd marry you." Taken aback, Arlyss frowned, puzzled.

"Possibly a glimpse of the future; our future, together." Adrian eyed her cautiously, as he got up from the floor, and made his way over to the bed, and sat down. "Could you live with... these... visions of mine?
"You aren't you without your gifts, Adrian. They are part of who you are. If you are wondering, yes, I still want to marry you," Arlyss answered him with her most direct look, adding, after a pause, "IF you want to marry me, that is."
Nodding wordlessly, Adrian rose from the bed, and walked over to stand in front of her. Taking both her hands, he led her back to the window where they both looked out in awe at the millions of webbed lights of the Coruscant cityscape, a metropolis that had evolved with thousands of years of sentient development. His hand caressing her hair gently, Adrian smiled, bending to kiss her tenderly.
His arms enfolding Arlyss, Adrian held her for what seemed only a brief time, their forms silhouetted against the shadowy walls, until the tapers had burned away to tiny stubs in their holders. Flushed dawn had come to the sky, before Arlyss returned to her room to begin the job of packing up her belongings.

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

The small cell was dark, only lit up with a single light standing on a table next to the bed. Wil sat on the bed, up against the back wall, knees drawn up under his chin, his arms hugging his legs to his chest, his eyes staring at the shadowed wall, unfocused, his appearance dazed.
Ignoring a persistent tapping on his door, he continued to stare, wanting whoever stood outside his door to go away and not to return. He didn't want to speak with anyone.
The tapping took on a voice. "Wil, I know you're in there. I have something to tell you!"
Realizing Arlyss would not go away if she sensed his anguish in the Force, Wil attempted to block her out. From experience, from the time they had shared, he knew that she cared deeply for her fellow beings and comrades. She continued, her tapping becoming an insistent pounding.

'Some people just don't know when to quit,' Wil thought, snarling, "Go away!" through clenched teeth, knowing she would not oblige. Without intending to do so, with a flick of his wrist he opened the door to his cell instead of locking it, as he had wanted to.
"Nice of you to finally let me in, Wil," Arlyss said, her displeasure with him obvious.
"I heard about you and Adrian," Wil whispered, as Arlyss entered the room. "You sure this is what you want? I can't bear to lose you too!" For the first time, Wil interrupted his unfocused gaze, and regarded Arlyss despondently, his face streaming with noiseless tears.
"Wil, silly man, you won't lose me. I will always be here," Arlyss replied quietly, as she sat down on the bed, looking into his eyes, her face shining in a way Wil had never seen before. "I've never been happier, Wil. I've never felt this way before."
"But Arlyss, I don't understand! After all you've worked for, everything you've strived so hard to achieve!" Wil couldn't stop the words he heard himself sobbing at her, as a rope to one struggling to hold on to an untrustworthy foothold.
Arlyss replied quietly, "I became a Jedi, as much to get out of my family's way, as to fulfill the will of the Force in my life. I'm not like you; I've lived in another world. I'm going to a world where I can make a real difference, not where I'm always being shuffled from one problem to another."
"So, that's how you see being a Jedi, is it?" Wil said, finally focusing on her completely, an angry expression on his face, "Just petty obstacles to overcome, giving our lives for causes that are meaningless in the end?"
Arlyss stood up, and turned to face him, her features strangely transformed by the change in her status. "Wil, you have lived all your life with the Jedi. I'm fully aware you are from Ja'rel, but, events there really haven't touched you; you never really lived there. I know you may not feel it now, but you have years of achievement ahead of you. You are fast becoming a great Jedi knight, perhaps the greatest of our generation. That is your special gift, and, in a way, it was made possible because you grew up always surrounded by the Order," she said, her tranquil tone serving to strengthen the significance of her words.

"What of your fiancé? Adrian is the only Jedi yet to be able to see the future unsummoned, and now that he can control his visions, his value to the order... "
"Is outweighed by the needs of his people," Arlyss interrupted Wil brusquely. "Yes, it is true, he is the only one to be able to see the future without training, and to be able to summon the visions and control them. But, Wil, tell me this: what is a world without leadership? Haven't you learned anything in what we've seen? Look at the Elmasians and the Vryjyk. No leadership, just petty wrangling. At the first opportunity, they tossed us out so they could continue fighting. There is now danger of a full-scale war there. All because none dared to lead."
"I heard the Empire has formally requested the New Republic and the leaders of the two peoples to allow them to assist in brokering a settlement!" Wil ventured, almost knowing her answer already.
"Wil, I agree with Master Patrice: Solutions must come from those involved to be real solutions. For all I care the Empire can have a shot at it, because it doesn't matter who comes in from the outside to try to fix things; if the people themselves don't try to solve their problems, nothing will change. Only when a leader is willing to step up and take on the responsibility of serving his people by setting an example of giving unselfish, spiritual guidance can peace and progress be realized," Arlyss said, her deep brown eyes fixed sternly on Wil's face.
"You love him," Wil said, amazed at his discovery in her words of admiration.
"Of course I do, silly Wil, why else would I marry him?" Arlyss laughed, her face lighting up so that the rest of the room - though already dark - completely faded away in comparison.
Standing to go, Wil followed her movement; smiling slightly, then glancing at the floor. "Don't be strangers, you two, okay?"
"We won't: I promise!" Arlyss said her voice sincere. "The same goes for you too. Care to join me... us... " she quickly corrected, "... for dinner tonight, before we leave?"
Without even taking time to think about it, Wil accepted her invitation, "It would be my pleasure."


********************************
Casually, the tall, slender woman entered her bedchamber, offhandedly tossing her black cloak onto a nearby divan. Tossing her mass of honey colored hair about her lean shoulders, she smoothed her tight fitting sheath about her hips, and walked over to a small cage, where she spoke to a mauve colored bird that sat on a perch inside. "So, Dierlon, you don't seem to approve of our uninvited guest anymore than I do!" she said gaily, "The great Carsten Hedegaard... in my bedchamber."
Remaining in his position, sitting casually in her sitting chair in the dark corner of the room, Hedegaard smiled languidly, but said nothing. She spoke again, still with her back turned to him, clearly not at all afraid of him, "I won't bother asking how you got in, but I'm glad you allowed my security personnel to live," she said casually, feeding the bird a biscuit, before turning to face him.
"Milady, you needn't trouble yourself on my account," Hedegaard said.
Drawing herself to her full height, she simply smiled coldly. "It is not my practice to engage in business matters in my bedchamber, unless I have invited the business partner myself: I do not much fancy party crashers. You do understand, do you not, Mr. Hedegaard?" It was not a question she meant him to answer and he knew it.
"I have come to collect my fee for my services, which was denied to me by your operative; a most unfortunate situation," Hedegaard explained quickly, noting her lack of expression as she listened to him, "And I had to inform you in person that Lady Malicia is dead. Her mission failed."
"Most unfortunate," she agreed. Reaching inside one of the pockets of her cloak, she brought out two small bags, both full of what appeared to be faintly glittering stones. "You may count them here if you like," she added.
"That will not be necessary. I regret... " Hedegaard began, but stopped. She knew? Everything that had happened? But how? He wanted to ask her, but something in her expression stopped him cold. "Thank you, milady. Please feel free to contact me if I may be of service to you again, I will not let this little incident drive a wedge into our partnership," he said, bowing formally, before slowly exiting the room.
"You may be assured of that, Carsten Hedegaard. I shall definitely utilize your services again," she smiled thinly, as she walked over to the far dark corner of the chamber and lay supine across the bed, its thick canopies wrapping her, cocoon-like in their shelter.
Reaching out with her hand she grabbed a small holo-cron and switched it on. It lit up in an instant, revealing the corridor outside her room and Carsten standing there, with his back turned towards the camera. He was deep in conversation with one of her operatives, Lady Isis, but she couldn't hear what they were saying - touching the holo-cron in an upwards movement soon took care of that and she rested back in the bed overhearing the rest of the two's conversation before they quickly retired to Lady Isis' cell.
"Serious interrogations, I do believe," Lady Nemesis mused to herself, as she pressed on the holo-cron again to reveal the inside of Lady Isis' cell. On the plush divan, wrapped around each other in a passionate embrace were Lady Isis and Carsten Hedegaard, blithely oblivious of their audience.

********************************
Kneeling in front of the Kirian Minister of Justice, Adrian recited the Ancient Oath of Kings, delivered publicly by each new Kirian monarch at his coronation. Then, the Minister of Justice stood and held an ancient Kirian sword directly over Adrian's head, lowering it over each of his shoulders in turn, saying, "Thou art king in spirit and in action, Adrian of Kiria. Rise, and take on the mantle of responsibility." The minister waited until Adrian rose, then sheathed the sword, and handed it to a waiting assistant.
Rising, Adrian faced the throng gathered in the Kirian Royal Coliseum, his fair hair windswept, smiling at his people. Never had he thought this day would come. Yet it had. His eyes met Patrice's, then Jain's and Wil's, before resting upon Arlyss. No longer clad as a Jedi, she wore a deep emerald vellora dress, with a simple white headdress that accentuated her deep golden brown skin and her luxurious chestnut hair. Descending the stairs of the dais, Adrian walked over to her, offered her his arm, and escorted her from the vast coliseum, the band playing, the drums rolling, and the crowd roaring its approval.
The royal entourage, consisting of the king's brother and his wife, as well as myriad other family members, followed the king and his fiancée to the staging area outside the gates of the coliseum, where thousands more Kirian citizens had gathered to hail their new king. A deja-vú like sensation gripped Adrian, but he quickly realized that it was not exactly the same as his visions. He looked over at Arlyss standing next to him on his right; she smiled back at him, calming his nerves. Soon he was swept up in the moment, the sheer thrill of having millions greet him, something he had anticipated, yet never thought he would actually experience; it felt good.

© (copyright) Patricia Smith/Carsten Jensen. All Rights Reserved.

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