(Wrong account: this is from Adrian, not Corise)

Main Hall, Almas Academy, Almas

Adrian lowered the trunk to the stone floor, allowing it to hit with a dull thud. It echoed faintly throughout the still hallways, reverberating off the elaborately paneled walls and vaunted ceilings. For centuries, hundreds of Jedi had paced these halls, lived in these rooms, practiced and honed their latent Force abilities, forged relationships, and met challenges. Several decades after it had been abandoned by the Order, Adrian could still feel their Force imprints, as if the Jedi still stood beside him; he had half-expected some rogue Jedi to pop up as he entered the Academy.

Instead, a quartet of lifeless Paladin II Droids had flanked either side of the grand entryway, silent and steadfast guardians of the Academy. Taking turbolifts and walking around the vacant hallways, he had encountered several other of the battle droids; all immobile like the first set. He would have wondered if they were off, save that he was certain that the droid’s photoreceptors had been tracking him as he moved. While the droids had received new orders not to harm him, Kitty, or Swenson, Adrian had been a little uneasy with their presence, wondering what would happen if there was a glitch, or one of them didn’t meet the parameters encoded in their droid brains. He had shaken the thought away and carried his belongings to this room, feeling pulled to it by some unknown force. Adrian shook his head.

“What am I doing here?” asked the Susevfian.

Sheer silence answered him, as if to mock him.

Shaking his head, the man reached down to a small trunk. The white chest had seemed perfectly generic at a casual glance. Looking closer though, one could tell that the old-fashioned lock was only ornamentation. There was no physical way to open the trunk. Adrian bent over to place his hand on it. A slight jingle emanated from the inside, and the trunk’s lid sprung open via a set of springs. Weird. I guess Mom wasn’t quite so normal after all. This definitely points to something being out of place. The first thing Ravenna saw was old clothing, seemingly haphazardly crunched into the chest. Adrian smirked. Wouldn’t it be such a joke if it was just this? No, it would actually be my luck. He fished his hands into it and withdrew an old night robe. Frowning, he tossed it aside. He continued to dig it out, gradually picking up the pace of his efforts. Frustration flowed through his veins, pulsed through his thousands of arteries. Please no. Mother…His hand felt something solid, smooth, and cold. Underneath the layers of mismatched clothes, his hands gingerly slid over the angular surfaces. His fingers probed down farther the sides until they felt the glassy surface replaced by more clothes. Adrian’s hand curled up at the base of the object, gripping it tightly. He ripped the object free from the layers of clothing and exposed it to the room’s harsh, artificial light.

It was a black pyramid with a base slightly larger than Adrian’s palm. Over the dark crystal, strips of embellished golden metal lined the edges and the base. Exquisite hieroglyphics and ancient writing sprawled over the faces of the object. He narrowed his eyes at the object, his left hand rubbing against one of the faces.

A hologram of a woman slowly emerged from the apex. Golden, form-fitting plate armor completely covered her slim body. She wore a metal mask which could have been a copy of her own face. A grey cloak strapped to her armor's shoulder pads billowed around her. She stared at the man.

“Who are you?”

Adrian blinked. “I am Adrian Ravenna.”

“Any relation to Adriette or Marcus Ravenna?” questioned the Visage.

“They were my parents,” replied the Confederate agent quietly, “who are you?”

“The Saarai-kaar; the sole master of the Jensaarai of Susevfi,” stated the visage, hesitating, “tell me, how far are you in your apprenticeship?”

Adrian shook his head. “I am no apprentice.”

The figure shook her head. “The son of Jensaarai at this age without any training? I sense a connection to the Force within you. Though it is weak, sporadic, undeveloped. Tell me, why have you not been trained?”

“I do not know why,” replied the agent, “I believe my mother took us away from the Order on Susevfi shortly after I was born; shortly after my father was killed.”

The holographic stood still, her cloak continuing to billow in the unfelt wind.

“I see. Have you decided to start the undertaking of becoming Jensaarai?”

Adrian hesitated. “I do not even know who the Jensaarai are. How can you expect me to make that choice?”

“I do not,” replied the visage dryly, “if you were to rush into this choice, you would be foolish, and I would certainly vanish until you were ready to understand that error. We Jensaarai are the Hidden Followers of the Truth. Some would call us another sect of the Jedi, another Force-user group. But we are more than that. We are what the Jedi should have been.

To become a Jensaarai is not a decision to be made lightly. It will not be learning a set of skills or techniques. It is not a step to power or glory. It is a way of life. To become one of us, you must give up your personal desires, your passions, and your freedoms for the cause of the greater good of the galaxy. Our galaxy is continually in turmoil, the innocent and righteous are always under assault from the darkside, they always need protectors. We are those protectors. It is a life of service, not power. It is a life of sacrifice, not gain. It is a life of self-improvement in humility, not one of lording powers over others. Tell me, Adrian, what do you desire most from me, and I will grant it.”

Adrian curled in his lower lip for a brief second. “There are so many things. But what I desire most is wisdom. Wisdom to help others, wisdom to protect, wisdom to heal.”

The Saarai-kaar nodded. “That pleases me. I will grant you that and more, in due time. But we must start with the basics. These will be simple exercises, apprentice, but it would befit you to discover and heed the lessons behind them well…”

The empty chest trembled slightly, slowly rising through the air. It drifted among the murals of epic battles between the ancient Sith and Jed. Occasionally, the chest bumped into the walls or the ceiling with a dull thud. It edged around a corner, and a hail of emerald blaster fire tore through the chest, charring and splintering it beyond recognition. The trunk dropped to the floor in a scorched heap reeking of ozone and carbon scoring. Seconds later, a Paladin II rushed over to the debris and scanned over it with its photoreceptors.

Several rooms over, Ravenna motionlessly sat on the ground, Indian-style. Sweat dripped from his face down through his fatigues, staining them a dark olive. The echoes of blaster fire reverberated through the training room. Adrian exasperatedly sighed and opened his eyes. The hologram of the Saarai-kaar looked up at the Apprentice from his lap.

“Understand this: the wisest and best laid plans will go awry. Nothing can prevent this, not even visions from the Force. And just as often as they will be foiled from your foes, they will be foiled by ignorant fools and simple chance. You must be prepared their interference. You should not make one plan to accomplish an important feat, but ten. And all of them should be ready at a moment’s notice.”

Ravenna reverently nodded.

“That being said, apprentice,” noted the Saarai-kaar, “you have done well in levitating that chest. You will improve in time. It is now time for the next step. You have learned to regularly lift and move objects from a distance by an extension of your will; by in essence, physically overpowering it. This is good. But this is not the best way.”

Adrian cocked his head to the side. “What is the best way then?”

“One day, the sun and the wind argued over who was the most powerful. A being wearing a cloak walked by past them. The sun and wind decided to have a wager of who was the most powerful. They decided whoever who could get the cloak off the being was the most powerful. The wind blew heavily, trying to blow the cloak off the being. But the being clutched his cloak harder. The sun came and cast its light on the being, and because of the fair weather, the being took it off. The sun won. So it is with the art of moving objects.

The best way is not to try and physically force an object to move by your own energy and physical exertion. Rather, it is to make it move with its own energy, and thus not drain you. It is the most powerful, and efficient way, to move anything. With this method, the most powerful force-users have moved massive starships. The Force flows through everything, the animate and the inanimate, the living and the dead, for everything has an energy presence. It is not a physical battle, but rather a spiritual battle of wills. I sense a strong will within you, maybe from your father, or maybe from your intense military training. But either way, it is one of the keys to becoming the best of the Jensaaria. Now, see that crate? I want you to move it by its own accord, and just within this room. I have no doubts that that security droid in the hallways has had enough practice for the day…”

“But how?” demanded Adrian.

“Persuade it.”

Adrian reproachfully nodded. Faithfully, he assumed his meditation stance, closed his eyes, and began to concentrate on the rickety crate. Beads of sweat began to pour down through his hair and clothing to splatter on the stone floor. For several minutes, neither the crate or Adrian moved. Finally, the Confederate agent shook his head.

“This is impossible,” stated Ravenna.

“No,” replied the visage, “it is not. Tell me, Ravenna, if you are trying to persuade someone to your point of view, what do you need?”

“I need to know who they are, their relation to what I’m trying to persuade them to do, and any means of leverage that I could use over him.”

“So it is with the crate. You must understand how it connects and interacts with the Force. Only after you understand its state of being can you hope to persuade or connect with it to make it move by itself.

You must also understand this: the crate does not wish to move. Just like anything within this galaxy, is does not want to be disturbed. You will have to spiritually overpower it, just as you physically overpowered the chest. This is something difficult to explain, Adrian, I apologize. It is more easily showed and learned by example. It is something that as a gatekeeper, I can not do.”

Ravenna nodded. The agent once again assumed his meditative pose. He took a deep breath of the musty air and gently exhaled. His mind probed around the crate, feeling its presence within the Force. Gradually, the faint presences of the crates edges grew into woven patterns within the Force. He almost felt as if he was physically touching it. He focused on the object itself, singling out its Force presence. He grunted, focusing his will against that of the stubborn box. The crate’s will wavered and fell into obedience. The crate jerked around on the floor. Adrian smiled. The visage of the golden-plated woman approvingly nodded.

“Very good. It is key to understand that the greatest battles are not those waged with limbs and muscles, but those of the mind and heart. Spiritual warfare can be just as rewarding, if not more so, as those fought with the sword. For when you can turn your enemy into a friend, or save people with your other powers is far better than what any lightsaber hacking can achieve. As for your telekinesis traing,It’s a start. Practice daily. You will get better in terms of power and ease-of-use in due time. When you have advanced far enough with that, I will be able to reveal one of the Jensaarai’s unique powers. I believe that is all I will teach today. Meditate on what you have learned today, Adrian. Good day.”

The Susevfian man bowed as the hologram disappeared into her pyramidal holocron. Grabbing a towel, he wiped the sweat streaming down his body. Several swipes later, he tossed it to the ground.

“Is there a reason why one of the droids is standing on top of a smoking heap?”

Adrian pivoted on his foot to face the doorway, broadly smiling.

“I guess it must have been something unusual.”

“Funny,” stated the woman, striding through the doorway, “because last time I saw that heap, you were carrying it to this room. Of course, it was a box back then. Nothing terribly threatening.”

Adrian nodded. “I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe.”

“Try me.”

“I moved it with my mind,” replied the man.

“I was being serious,” retorted Kitty, stopping in front of him.

“So was I.’

She shook her head. “Once you’re done with your grand delusions of Jediism. We have some training to do.”

“We do?”

The Lightsaber Practice area was a large, circular room, almost like a miniature coliseum carved into the lowest levels of the Academy’s main tower. Kitty and Adrian edged around in a circle on the sand covered floor. Kitty’s steel blue eyes stared coldly at the Susevfian. Her thin lips pressed together in determination. A sense of dread swept over the man, pouring and mingling itself with Adrian’s essence. A flame of confidence sparked into his mind, bursting into the full flame of disciplined courage: the virtue of a professional soldier. Adrian clamped his mouth. We are not going to hurt each other. I will make sure of that.

The lithe woman lunged forward, extending her energy blade in a classic fencing thrust. Adrian grunted, slightly shifted to his side, and slashed downward with his own blade, as if trying to cut the woman’s blade in half. The blades crackled and sizzled as they met, eerily illuminating Ravenna’s pale face in an ethereal glow. Ravenna followed through his motion, knocking Hawk’s attack off target and into the sand. The blade seared the sand black with a fizzling sound of a Corellian Bugzapper.

Adrian sharply edged away from the woman, his blade pointing upward at the dark ceiling. Ravenna drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for the woman’s next assault. The Force flowed through him, washing away the fatigue of the previous three hours of grueling training under the Saarai-kaar. He blinked, expanding his sphere of attentiveness to suffuse the arena. The energetic pulse of the countless Jedi who had trained at the Arena flowed around him. He tapped into their fading presence. Energy surged up through his body, invigorating him. Ravenna slowly exhaled, regulating the flow of the energy within him. He toothily smiled.

Kitty raised an eyebrow as she drew her blade back up to an en garde position. Adrian tightened his fingers around the sword hilt, letting the cold metal press against his skin. He raised it high above his head and madly surged towards the woman. Frowning, Hawk backed away from the man. Adrian swung downwards, pushing all of his strength into the blow. It landed solidly, wrenching Kitty’s weapon out of her hands. Her cylinder tumbled to the rough ground, its yellow blade disappearing. Her eyes widening, Kitty backed away, her hands raised high in the air in a gesture of surrender. Adrian tapped a button on his hilt, and his yellow blade slid back into its burnished hilt.

“I was scared for a minute,” exhaled the woman, lowering her hands, “that you would continue with your attack.”

Adrian nodded. “I was scared too: that we would hurt each other.”

“It’s a hell of miracle that you guys didn’t,” chided Swenson, emerging from the viewing stands, “I should have never mentioned these things' existence to either of you.”

Adrian glanced down at the bronze cylinder in his hand. It could have passed as an archaic sword hilt save for the quartet of buttons positioned near the top of the hilt. ornate scrolling and embellishments sprawled across the grip; doubtlessly made by machines, but impressive none the less. Just below the blade’s emitter, a shell guard and a pair of quillions sprouted to protect his hand. At the bottom of the hilt, a bulbous pommel incorporated a standard recharging socket. Adrian lifted his eyes to the tech specialist.

“It’s pretty amazing you were able to find these lightsabers, Bob.”

“They’re not lightsabers,” corrected the irate tech specialist, “they’re lightfoils, mass-produced replicas of lightsabers. Not nearly as powerful as a real lightsaber, but they are still more than capable of killing someone.”

Kitty nodded understandingly. “Nice toys for rich boys. They’re very popular with the nobles in my home sector of Tapani. Of course, a real lightsaber wouldn’t be look to nice or fit in their surroundings, so they redid all of the decoration to fit in with their old dueling weapons. That’s why they have these elaborate hilts and workings.”

Adrian’s lips wrinkled up into a frown. “So Jedi never used these?”

“No,” replied the stout man matter-of-factly, “never. These energy swords are fairly new, and in any case, not as good as a real lightsaber; less powerful, break easier. There is no reason for Jedi or Sith to use them, really. Not even for training; training sabers are safer than these things.”

Adrian nodded, clipping the weapon to his belt. “Have you found any training sabers in the stuff they have stored here?”

“No,” replied the other two in unison.

“But,” reported Swenson, “I have been looking at the recordings and instructions left in the Jedi workshops on level 3. I should be able to build a normal lightsaber, or training sabers, if you want me to. They’ve even left behind a stash of material for that process. There’s only one thing though.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“There’s step in the construction that only Force-sensitives can do.”

“And that is?”

“Aligning the focusing crystals within the saber and imbuing the crystals. I can’t quite understand how to explain to you. But there’s this holo that I found that explains it. This For'deschel chick walks you through the process. She was the Academy’s last lightsaber instructor.”

“How long will take you to build a saber?” questioned Ravenna.

“Well…according to the Academy records, it will take around a month for a good, quality saber.”

Ravenna sighed. “Well, in that case, I want you to get to work making a saber for me. If there’s time after that, training sabers would be good. Kitty, I think it would be best if we didn’t train together with these lightfoils. I feel that one of these times, we’re going to miss. Best case we’re in the Bacta tank for a few days, worse case…well…one of us is dead.”

Her steely eyes glazed, Kitty stared at Susevfian. “I understand.”

“But,” interrupted Swenson, “what do you want your saber to be like?”

“Like this,” stated Ravenna, pointing at his weapon, “like a lightfoil, so that you can’t tell the difference between it and a regular lightfoil.”

“You’re thinking of using it as part of a disguise?”

He nodded. “There might be times when we can do that. But let’s just say that I like the style. Call it nostalgia…”

Twin metal orbs rose and bobbed in the air. Diminutive red dots blinked around their circumferences, dimly illuminating the spheres in the darkness. One of the training remotes blinked, sending down a flurry of red streaks that pierced through the darkness. Adrian quickly somersaulted out of the way, letting the low-powered blaster bolts singe the area where he had once stood. Ravenna gritted his teeth.

One key rule in hand-to-hand combat: always keep moving. His roll barely completed, Adrian pushed his feet on the ground, propelling himself through the air to his right. More scarlet bolts sizzled in the air around him, flooding the air with the noxious scents of carbon scoring and burning ozone. Several random bolts brushed his shoulder, burning through his light clothing onto his bare skin. His face contorted into an anguished wince.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Adrian brushed the pain of the hit away, instead forcing himself to focus on the peaceful ambience of the meditation chambers directly above. He allowed that feeling to flow through and consume him. Sweat from the intensive motions seeped into the burns, adding salt into the wounds. Pain burned into his mind, disrupting his concentration; he dropped midair onto the ground. He started to forcefully run around the dark ground, the scarlet bolts tracing his footsteps. There is a time for pain. There is a time for emotion. And now isn’t that time. I’ll save that for Kitty when she slaps the bacta patches on. The agent pushed away the pain into the recesses of his mind, letting the eternal peace of the Force salve and wash away the traces of pain. Letting the essence of tranquility sweep and control his mind, Adrian jumped towards a wall. His right sole landed on it with a dull thump and he pushed himself down towards the floor. Ravenna landed directly below one of the furiously firing globes.

He stretched out his right hand towards, as if trying to pluck fruit from a tree. The Force converged throughout his body; tendrils of energy climbing through his veins. Within a half a second, the energy had coalesced into tips of fingers. Adrian released it. The air around the hand surged forward in a concussive blast, striking the Training Remote. The sphere warbled excitedly as the blast overpowered its built-in repulsorlift drives. It surged forward into the ceiling, making a sickening crack which reverberated throughout the room. A shower of blue sparks sprouted from it as it tumbled to the floor. Adrian smiled.

More scarlet bolts sputtered out from the darkness, grazing his shoulder and scorching the room’s floor. The man rolled over to his left, barred his teeth, and accelerated his breathing into shallow gasps for air. Note to self: don’t be proud of your achievements. He lunged forward and ran past the droid, more blaster bolts trailing in his wake. The bolts abruptly stopped. Adrian frowned.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge

Swenson must have been right about that. When he modified the remote, he said that the blasters had extremely short range according to its internal diagnostics, even more so than normal than most remotes. Wonder why the Jedi did that. I’ll have to look some of this up next time. Sweat dripped down his face. At least for now, I can use the lack of range to my advantage.

He pivoted on his left foot to face the dimly lit globe, which erratically hovered in the center of the room. As if eying him, the remote hovered closer to him, sending out a stream of scarlet bolts. The man jumped to the side and stretched out his left hand. A tiny pulse of energy flowed through and out of his hand. The energy rippled through the air, forming a diminutive concussive blast. Surging through the room, the air blast knocked the droid back towards the center. In its simplistic droid brain, the remote ran a quick series of diagnostics to determine how it had been knocked of course; a process that took several valuable seconds.

Ravenna’s heart pounded as sweat dripped down through his body and the drenched bloodstained clothes. He squinted, narrowing his eyes into tiny, emerald specks. Ravenna vigorously extended his arm towards the droid; energy pulsing and mixing throughout his veins. Reaching out with the Force, the Susevfian grasped the droid’s minute signature. His fingers extended towards the droid like tentacles trying to snatch their prey. The droid whistled hysterically. Adrian violently swung his arm to the side as if completing a sword slash. Against its will, the droid surged forward to slam into a stone wall. It shattered violently as the din of metal scraping against stone echoed throughout the cavernous room. The crumpled remote fell onto the floor in a heap. Ravenna winced. Perhaps a little too much force. I don’t think Swenson will be able to repair that easily…if at all.

“You are a moron.”

“Ow!”

Ravenna’s face crumpled together like the flimsiplast of newspapers. Standing behind him, Kitty rubbed a beige patch across his crimson splattered back. He scowled. Facing Sith must be funner than this. Shaking his head, Adrian let his emerald eyes stare out of the ceraglass windows of the upper tower. A powerful gust whipped up the sides of the tower, blowing up a potpourri of kaluthin leaves and other plant matter. Alma’s luminous gases sparkled with stars’ light, casting a celestial haze across the virescent fields and distant deserts. He took a deep breath, calmly mediating on the landscape.

“That’s better,” observed the lithe woman, removing the patch from his back, “several bacta patches should do the fix.”

“Thanks,” grunted the husky man, “I imagine that you’re not the only one who wants to kill me.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Swenson isn’t terribly happy. One of the droids is a total loss. And luckily for you, he’s been too busy putting the finishing touches on your lightsaber to care.”

Adrian nodded. “I know.”

A slate-gray door hissed open to reveal Swenson. Drops of perspiration dripped down his face to darken his fatigues. He managed a faint smile at the pair and stumbled through the door, carrying a rustic box in his hands. Swenson slumped into a chair alongside the Susevfian. The tech exhaled deeply.

“Well, here it is,” announced Bob, handing over the box to Ravenna.

Ravenna neatly palmed the box. He flipped the lid open to reveal a bronzium hilt nearly twenty centimeters in length. A dish-shaped guard expanded out near the shroud emitter, flanked by a pair of curved quillions. Adrian grasped the lightsaber, his fingers curling around the saber’s cold handle. He extended his arm to the glass viewport, and tapped one of the several buttons embedded on the cylinder. It hissed to life, evincing a sapphire-coloured blade. He experimentally flourished the blade, casting cold light onto the shadows, letting the blade’s hum permeate throughout the room. He stared at the glowing blade.

There is no passion, there is serenity

Tool or weapon? What people have created in the millennias can lead to prosperity or death. It is not the technology’s inherent fault, but how they are used. Baradium could be used to help excavate tunnels for mining, or to kill thousands in a bomb attack. So it is with this. I must endeavor to never draw it in anger except when necessary: This is the responsibility of power. He tapped the button again. The blade flickered out of existence, retreating back into the hilt. Adrian’s emerald eyes turned towards Swenson.

“I can’t think of anything to say or to give to you to pay you for your work, Bob,” mused Adrian, “but I do know that it was a difficult labor. I don’t think I could have ever done it. Thank you.”

Swenson blushed.

“Thanks. It was a challenge…” admitted the man, “but it is well worth it. I mean, how many people, especially not force-users, can say that they constructed a lightsaber like this? I think I got it right to all of your specifications, but I decided to add one other thing.”

“Which is?”

“I designed it so that it can be easily modified; there is some extra room it for that sort of thing. I’ve read that some Jedi in the past modified their sabers to be waterproof and what not. That might become useful.”

“Thank you Swenson. I’ll remember that for future missions.”

The other man blinked. “That reminds me. A holo transmission came in several minutes ago.”

“From?” questioned Kitty.

“From Rear-Admiral Lucerne.”

Adrian’s head jerked back. “By the Maker! What was it about?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” confessed Robert, “I didn’t look at it.”

“I’ll be in the comm center.”

The Susevfian stormed out of the mediation chamber, leaving the other two agents behind.

Interlude: Clash of Shadows

Academy, Almas

The fields of kaluthin rippled, bending and bowing at the wind’s command. Adrian waded into the field, casting his eyes to the sky. Pinpricks of celestial light broke through the night sky and dark clouds. Ravenna’s lip slowly curled into a solemn, faint grin. His right hand fell down to rest on the cool pommel. His emerald eyes singled out a cobalt star. A light in the darkness. One of many. All of which are dominated by the ensuing darkness of night. With the Light disunited but driving at a common enemy, it is anyone’s guess who will ultimately succeed. He sighed. But as the stars light combined could overwhelm the night, so the lightside combined could overrun the darkness. If the followers of light combined, they could defeat any darkness. But where is the light? Scattered among the stars. Like the stars. What can be expected from them? What can be expected by me? Though I fight for one of the largest factions of light, I fight alone with a few friends. How much better it could be with more. And there are more like me among the stars, right? Among this sea of darkness?

“Adrian,” cooed a soft voice from behind him.

The Confederate agent spun about his heel. “Kitty?”

The woman irately snorted. “Who else would it be? Swenson?”

Ravenna shook his head. “I don’t know…I just wasn’t…well…expecting anyone else to be here.”

“In the Academy gardens?”

“Yes,” defended the Susevfian softly, approaching the woman, “I figured Swenson would be in the workshop…you’d be with the Shadow.”

She coyly smiled. “Yes, that’s it. I’d be in the Shadow because I’m a pilot? I am more than a pilot, you know. I am a woman. No, I was in the communication’s center, catching some old reruns of holodramas. But anyways, there is another call from Lucerne.”

He folded his arms.

“Any idea about what it is?”

“No,” stated the blonde, “but it’s heavily encrypted.”

“That’s not too unusual-”

“But,” interrupted Hawk, “it’s not flagged as urgent.”

“If it’s not the orders…then why the need for heavy encryptination. It’s already going through Confederation Military Comm Satellites, through the hyperwave transmitter network. Those things are only capable of being detected on a few channels right by the physical transmitters.”

“Meaning that he’s concerned about insiders,” concluded Kitty, “but if he doesn’t want other Confeds to accidentally open it, what does that mean?”

“Probably that it’s very sensitive information to be divulged on a case-to-case basis. Interesting. Thanks for letting me know, Kitty. I’ll go take a look at in a few minutes.”

Ravenna turned back to face the stars.

“Adrian?”

“Hm?” mumbled the Jensaarai.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” explained the agent, “give a few minutes. I’ll be inside shortly.”

She snapped an unseen salute at him before vanishing into the darkness. He felt her presence ebb away in the Force. He let out an exasperated sigh. And so it goes. Just like Mom use to say. How did go?

Home is behind,
the galaxy ahead,
and there are many paths to tread
Through shadow to the edge of night
‘til all of the stars are alight
Mist and Shadow
Cloud and Shade
Blade to blade
All shall fade.

An ethereal light gleamed off of the metallic walls, banishing the dark trappings of night into oblivion. A sole voice droned in an exacting manner, his speech bouncing off the Academy’s walls to reverberate throughout the room. Adrian sat down in the comm’s center, his bloodshot eyes enthralled by the visage of the distant leader. The younger Lucerne’s head floated in a cyan haze over the holo-projector.

“…and so, Adrian, I thought it…well…wise to inform you about this progress. The scientists are planning on applying their results to sentient subjects. They will be volunteers. In any case, given your recent success with the use of the Force, particularly at Bal’demnic, they are requesting that you train the conditioned volunteers. However, it is ultimately your choice if you wish to train them in…well…your ways...”

Adrian tapped a console button at the same moment within the holo-message for the third time. What is this? Curse or Blessing? Sighing, he leaned further into the communication center’s chair. His emerald eyes gazed up at the ghastly visage of the Rear-Admiral. Like you know how this is. Ravenna shook his head. Feeling a distinct aura, he paused. I know this presence. Kitty-

“The Rear-Admiral was certainly eloquent,” mused Hawk, standing in the doorway, “I didn’t quite get all of that though…there are others like you?”

The Susevfian pursed his lips. “There are going to be.”

Kitty blinked. “You don’t sound terribly happy about it.”

“Should I be?” questioned Ravenna, pivoting to face the pilot, “Should I? I feel…I feel like I barely know anything about what I’m doing. And I’m supposed to be teaching others? The Force…it’s like learning to ride a swoop. It is a natural behavior…mostly instinct…kind of like walking. Can you imagine teaching someone how to walk? It’s one of these we learn by doing…”

“And what a better way to learn then by watching someone who knows by doing? By someone who’s been in the exact same position before? Someone who knows the feel of it all,” countered the woman, opening her palms to the man, “How can this be? Don’t you ever feel lonely with your abilities? They make you excel above the rest of us. They brought you, an eighteen year old boy to the attention of the most powerful people within the Confederation. And by doing so, they set you apart from the rest of us. Don’t you wish there was someone to share this with you?”

Adrian let out a sigh.

“I do,” stated the man softly, “And I want it to be you. And Swenson.”

She jerked her head back. “What? I’m not Force-sensitive-”

“Not yet,” interrupted Ravenna, “but you can be. You didn’t hear the full message. You can be Force-sensitive. So can Swenson. Anyone with the right access can be. It’s called Genetic Renovation. It involves a fair amount of genetic modification between a sample of a host cell, and the one whose properties you’re trying to imbue the subject with. So, from what I understand, they make the propotype cell, clone a bunch of them, and inject it into your blood stream. These new cells act like a virus, infecting the older cells and mutating them into these new cells. It could boost your midicholorian count up enough to Force-Sensitivity.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Adrian…I don’t know…if I would want to do it…that’s destroying part of myself…for something that is supposedly better…maybe it is…but it’s not me. I’m not a computer that you can simply add a software upgrade and suddenly BAM! It’s all new and improved. This borders on the edge of tangling with things that no species should ever tangle with. Yes, others have done it, and look what’s happened to them. The Arkanians, the Kaminoans. Let me ask you something, Adrian. How does your sensitivity make you feel?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Is it?” questioned Kitty vehemently, “less than five minutes ago, you agreed that it separated you from everyone else, that no-one knew how you felt. How can you change your opinion this quickly? To sway me? You know, I never knew my father very well, but I remember something he use to say to my Mom. Before we want anything, we should take a look at those who already have it. Has it made them happy? Has it made you happy? I don’t know. I have to think about us. Goodnight, Adrian.”

She stormed out, leaving the Jensaarai to Lucerne’s recording and the shadows of Almas’ night.

Next day…

Soresu. It is said that only the skillful masters can use it to defeat their opponents. And only the most skillful of Force-Users can defeat a Soresu adherent. We cannot win, but we cannot lose. Something of a predicatement; a little lopsided, a little unbalanced. But it works against blasters, something most lightsaber styles can’t deal with. And now it is time to see far I have advanced in Soresu’s core. To see how long I can last against a set of blasters.

Adrian stared at the pair of training remotes, whisking about the lightsaber practice room. His emerald eyes tracking the spherical droids, he tapped an oval button on his lightsaber hilt. The azure blade sprang to life with a snap-hiss. He experimentally flourished his weapon in a figure eight. Good enough. Let’s get at it. The Jensaarai presented his side profile to the droids and raised the energy blade in a manner so that it ran diagonally to the ground. Ravenna nodded.

“Go ahead Swenson,” ordered Adrian calmly, “I’m ready.”

The Metalornian man nodded in turn. Both droids bobbed up and down, their red sensor eyes acquiring their target. They abruptly stopped, and surged towards the dark-haired man. Ravenna took a deep breath, and exhaled. Right about…now. A burst of scarlet bolts lanced out from the agile remotes. Ravenna whipped out his blade to intercept the shots. The first two smashed into the tip of the blade before ricocheting off at sporadic angles. Other bolts sailed past his defenses, forcing the harried man to hastily roll to his left and ungracefully collapse on the sandy floor. A steady stream of stun bolts pursued him, searing the sand around him. Lying prone on the floor, he hurriedly whipped out his sword to intercept the oncoming bolts. As the first salvo collided with the azure beam, he silently swore, his eyes spotting the oncoming torrent of bolts. He waved and twisted the blade in halting, staccato manipulations, fending off the first round of bolts, but succumbing to the following sets of attacks. He instinctively shut his eyes as particularly close whizzed towards his neck.

Numbness flooded the man’s senses, conquering all sense of movement and time within the man. Gritting his teeth, he tried desperately to raise the lightsaber up to block the successive attacks. Frak. Where’s my hand? Frak, I’ve already lost my hand. The blade’s not moving anywhere soon. Frak. Ravenna opened his eyes, to stare at the next set of bolts, they slammed into him, and he blacked out.



“He took it pretty hard,” observed Swenson, “and I have to say, I didn’t think he’d last as long as he did.”

“Explain,” demanded the blonde woman, resting a hand on her hip.

“Well…” stuttered the tech specialist, “he had me change the parameters of the droid’s programming. The Jedi had restrained their speed, and their rate of fire. He removed those restraints, and had me switch their programming to a significantly more aggressive setting, and they were allowed to coordinate.”

“Coordinate? As make coordinated attacks on him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” affirmed the stocky man, “So really, not bad. Not bad at all. It would make an interesting story, and heck, the holo-recordings of it are pretty good. Want to take a look at them?”

Kitty glared the other agent. “Not until I know he’s all right.”

Swenson shrugged. “He’s fine. Trust me. Just took a couple low-powered stun bolts. It’s not like he wasn’t wearing his battle armor either. That had to have helped. He’ll be up and walking about in a half hour.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” snapped Kitty, kneeling down beside her superior.

“Something wrong?” asked Swenson.

“No, nothing at all,” replied Hawk quickly, “his pulse seems a little slow, but otherwise normal. I guess you’re right, it’ll be fine.”

Swenson arched an eyebrow. “What’ll be fine? Don’t give me that look, something is wrong. You’re snappish, and while Adrian is ambitious, he doesn’t ask for impossible exercises on a regular basis...”

“You know about the comm Ravenna got from Lucerne last night?”

Bob nodded, “Adrian showed me it this morning, he seemed a little hesitant about it all, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted me to know.”

“My fault,” admitted the woman, “I sort of went off on him last night when he suggested that we undertake the program.”

Swenson nodded. “He did mention that to me too.”

“What did you say?” asked Kitty.

“Yes.”

Sometimes I wonder if I’m following an idiot. What the hell were you thinking, Adrian? I swear to the maker that you’re so blissfully idiotic; enough so that I’m going to have to start babysitting you. And unfortunately for me, that requires getting up to par with your Force abilities, the hard way. Looks like the genetics procedure will take awhile. Don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone. Got that? The words burned in his mind. Humiliation turned to anger, anger to aggression, aggression to action.

Adrian grunted, lashing out at the punching bag with a left backfist. His meaty fist connected with, knocking it backwards. Ravenna immediately followed up the attack with a low, right-footed snapkick, which rocked it back further away. As the bag swung back at him, he lunged forward with his right fist, jarring it back again. It was a drill in Broken Gate taught to adherents in order for them to build muscle memory and toughen their striking surfaces. It was a drill he had been doing for nearly half-hour straight. He spared a second to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. Ravenna started to assume Broken Gate’s rooted stance.

“You should stop. Now.”

Ravenna spun about to face the ghostly visage. The Saarai-kaar, resplendent in her golden armor and crimson cape, hovered over the triangular holocron. Her eyes peered out at the man through her metal mask. Adrian slowly shook his head.

“I don’t understand. Practice leads to perfection, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied the woman, “it does. The problem is not in your practice of Broken Gate, or Soresu. Your techniques improve day by day, and I am proud to say that you are my student. But there is more to being a Jensaarai than being the best warrior. Being a Jensaarai means being honourable and disciplined. You have demonstrated these well. But there is another aspect that troubles me; your aggression. You frequently shroud is as your ambition. And don’t get me wrong, ambition, and to an extent, aggression, are good for you, if used in moderation. Right now, I think your martial studies are being to take you into the unhealthy zones though. If you keep on progressing forward with this, it will lead to the darkside, and then, all is lost.”

Ravenna sullenly stared the Gatekeeper. He exhaled. “What would you have me do? My job is to be that warrior, to uphold the light and banish the darkness. Not everyone agrees with our viewpoint, fighting is inevitable. Fisonna was a good example of that. I couldn’t turn him to the light. I failed there.”

“And seldom will you succeed,” replied the woman tersely, “if you keep up with that attitude. Do think that after injuring him so, he wouldn’t have more of a reason to fight you? To reject you? You will never be able to save everyone. There will always be times where it is either him or you who receive the fatal blow. What I am saying is that it is time for you to diversify. To broaden your skills to deal with peaceful matters, to learn skills that can balance out your innate aggression. To teach you patience.”

Adrian jerked his head back, “Like diplomacy or healing?”

“Those are options, but I think there is a better option than either of those. Larad Noon’s writings influenced us Jensaarai to delve into other aspects of the Force that neither the Jedi or the Sith ever explored. Tell me Adrian, what is the opposite of aggression?”

“Passiveness?”

“Defence,” corrected the Saarai-kaar, “a warrior should not only be capable of dealing of attacking dangerous foes, but also being capable of defending himself and his allies. To not only deal grievous damage, but also to heal and prevent it.”

“You’re saying I should be studying the healing arts?”

“The protection arts are a diverse set of techniques and abilities. Yes, some of them do involve healing those who are injured, but more of them deal with protecting those around you so they don’t get injured. These are not techniques that require aggression or physical strength, but ones that require an understanding of the Force and a compassion for life around you. I challenge you, Adrian, to seek this out. Not only for the benefit of your allies, but for your own. Do you accept?”

“I do,” accepted the agent.

“Very well. Let us go to the Academy’s sickbay.”

Two weeks later…

A warrior should not only know how to fight and destroy, but to heal and mend. At least this part makes some practical sense. Ravenna massaged his bleeding fist, smeering the crimson liquid across his hand’s cross-section. It was becoming an all-to-frequent occurence. The practice of Broken Gate made its adherents exceptionally tough and willful. In the ancient days, practitioners often found themselves attending schools with day-long training, where they would assume a single stance and add repetitive kicks and punches to develop improved strength and memory muscle. Recently, Adrian had adopted a similar regimen to the schools of old, planning to fight continuously from dusk to dawn. He quickly amended that plan, striking only until his skin began to bleed.

Ravenna sat down on a bench and closed his eyes. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he began to count backwards, which slowed down the pulse of his heart and the rapidity of thoughts and emotions occuring within his mind. He picked out one thought, the lightside presence of the Academy’s former students, and focused intensely on that, extinguishing the remaining, aimless thoughts. After a minute, Ravenna focused on the tissue of his hand, feeling the tissue and muscles which wrapped themselves around the hand’s bones. He picked his right hand’s pointer finger and channeled energy to that area to increase his body’s natural regenerative properties. Sinew rebound itself, blood clotted up exponentially on the surface of his skin. Layers of ghostly white skin cells formed atop the crusty, crimson surface, culminating into the flexible skin of the meaty man’s fist. He grunted. Much better. At least compared to last time, now I can punch continuously for up to three hours without bleeding, and moreover, it only takes me fifteen minutes to fully heal them. Not bad, but not good. I could probably use so more practice with this to become more fully efficient with this…power, but I really don’t feel like injuring myself any more than I have to. What the crap?

An unfamiliar presence knocked on the back of his mind’s thoughts, threatening to break through his introspective, meditative state. Within a matter of seconds, the Susevfian’s inquisitive thoughts about this new presence cascaded through the last remnants of meditation, washing them away as he focused on the new presence. He frowned. This presence…it is darker than that of the Academy’s natural state. But there is something familiar about it. Something almost alluringly comfortable; genial even. The doors into the training room slid open, revealing Swenson and Hawk. That’s what. So the conditioning actually worked. Ravenna quickly sized his friends up.

Robert seemed almost too typical, the stout man broadly grinned as he spotted Adrian. Adrian reached out with his will towards the man, feeling the man’s emotions. He’s geniunely happy, and fine. Not dark…so Kitty? His emerald eyes stared at the lithe woman, picking out the subtle signs that not all was well. Dark rings wreathed around her cobalt eyes. Her normally stylized hair was arranged in sloppily, drooping ponytail. Kitty weakly smiled.

“Welcome home,” smiled Adrian, “how was it?”

Swenson blinked. “Not too bad for me; everything went smoothly, can’t say the same thing about Kitty.”

Kitty shook her head. “My body had an adverse reaction to the first injection. They fixed it though. But it felt like Hell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” replied Kitty quickly, “I choose to voluntarily get the operation. And we’re lucky too. Apparently, they won’t be doing for a quite a while.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow.

“We were the guinea pigs,” enlightened Swenson, “they want to severely redo parts of the idea. Kitty’s reactions were one thing. Apparently, they hadn’t thought about certain intracellular reactions with people that have O minus type blood.”

“So where do we start?” questioned Kitty.