Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away...








"General!"

The clone captain shouted.

"Yes, what now?"

A man in his late twenties, clad in the traditional brown and white robes of the Jedi, responded.

"We've been boarded," stated the ranking clone. "They've breached our flight deck."

The Jedi, wrapped up in the task of coordinating his fighter assets, turned away from the holograph projector. His auburn hair was an unkempt mop and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

"Send in the marines," he ordered sharply. "And get those shields back up!"

"Yes sir, General Lobinski," the clone complied, snapping off a quick salute.

Jedi Knight Lobinski marvelled at the meticulousness of the clones. Captain Goza, in his drab grey officers uniform, had served under Lobinski since the start of the Clone Wars. Their ship, a Venator-class destroyer named the Titan, was a formidable warship and had been the spearhead of multiple engagements. Together, Lobinski and his ship along with its compliment of clones, had fought in more battles then the Jedi cared to recall.

Today was no exception.

On routine patrol in the Ado Sector it had been their distinct displeasure to stumble upon a contingent of CIS ships. Along with the Acclamator-class cruiser Sundog the Titan had engaged the larger group. The enemy fleet, comprised of a half dozen Munificent-class frigates and one Providence-class carrier/destroyer, was slow to respond leading Lobinski to assume they had been just as surprised.

Out gunned and out numbered by the Confederate forces, the outcome seemed obvious. Within the first few moments the outcome became a lot less obvious as fortune swung in their favour. Belching atmosphere, plodding along with inexorable slowness, it became evident to the crew of the Titan that these Confederates had already been in full retreat - suffering badly from previously inflicted battle damage.

Still, the numbers were against them and even wounded the small CIS fleet represented a clear and present threat to the Titan and the Sundog. They had to be on their guard, even on the offensive.

Three of the lesser Munificent-class vessels had already been forced out of the fight. These had been the most badly damaged at the onset and the big guns of the Titan made quick work of these. Still three more remained and worse, they were screening the larger more powerful Providence-class.

"Our guns cannot get past their screen," declared the bridge gunnery sergeant. "That bloody big one is staying out of our reach!"

"Thank you, sergeant." Lobinski scanned his battle-damage assessment.

His shields were holding strong everywhere except the launch deck. From her protected position the Providence had pummelled the Titans dorsal shields with her own long guns and missile batteries. Swarms of droid fighters buzzed around the Sundog forcing her to focus on opposing the tiny ships. And now he had boarders to contend with.

"Why aren't they trying to run?" Lobinski asked himself aloud. "I'm missing a piece of the puzzle..."

"Scanners," he called, "get me a detailed scan on the big one. Focus on their hyper-drive."

"Sir, yes sir," answered a clone.

The scan would take at least sixty seconds.

"Coms," he called out again. "Tell Captain Otbe I want him to plot an exit trajectory and spin up his hyper-drive. Don't tell him to go anywhere, but make it look real."

"Aye aye. On it General," replied another clone.

The Titan continued to blast away with her guns. Through the deck plating, above the artificial gravity, the thumping reverberations could be felt like tremors rippling through the ships hull up to the superstructure. Turned a full broadside, over half of the guns were blasting away with salvo after salvo.

"Torpedoes away," declared the gunnery sergeant.

Lobinski turned in time to see four brilliant balls of light streak away from the starboard side of the Titan. They quickly shot away becoming elongated blurs as they closed with the enemy line. It took seconds for the swiftly moving warheads to cross the distance between the Titan and the nearest frigate.

An explosion basked the bridge in a radiant orange glow.

"Hostile foxtrot three has been eliminated," said Captain Goza needlessly. "We have a window sergeant!"

"I see it, sir." The gunnery sergeant noted. "Guns tracking..."

"Coms," Lobinski placed a hand on the shoulder of the clone. "Put me through to the marines."

"Aye sir," the clone complied. "You're on general."

"This is the General," Lobinski spoke in to the auxiliary microphone. "What's your status?"

Amidst the chaos of blaster fire, a clone voice replied, "We have them pinned down but we lost some of the clankers. They made it through one of the service hatches. We're trying to track them but they have a line between us and them."

"Find them, marine." Lobinski drew a thumb across his neck signalling the clone to close the channel.

"We have shield integrity restored," called out a clone working in the systems pit. "They won't get another lander past us, General."

With his scanners busy working to meet his request Lobinski could not order an internal scan to track down the droids in his ship.

"What's the status on that scan?"

"Almost General. We're having some trouble with their drives. They have some sort of sensor baffle up..."

That was it. "Cut your scans. Find the droids our marines missed."

This drew a look from Captain Goza. He wore his curiousness on his face.

"That's why they're not running," explained the Jedi. "Their drives are down and they don't want us to know it. Captain, we are going to capture that Providence."

"Ah," the captain grinned. "Yes sir, General."

"General," called out a clone. "One of the frigates is breaking the screen and moving to intercept the Sundog."

"Ha!" Jedi Lobinski gloated. "They can't let us escape and report their position which means they're hiding something which is why they ran from whatever fight they were in. That Providence is holding some precious cargo. And we've caught them with their pants down."

"Sergeant," Lobinski asked. "I want that frigate put down. Don't worry about the destroyer, stop that frigate."

"And Captain," he added. "Give the Sergeant whatever help you can."

"General," Goza nodded. To his helm he commanded, "Engines full to port."

On his screen Lobinski watched the fleeing Sundog suddenly turn, swing her bow towards the frigate and, ignoring the few fighters still pestering her, open up with her guns. The frigate, caught between the two Republic warships, did not last long.

"The frigate is listing," reported a clone. "Shields down, weapons offline, engines non-functional. She's done General."

"So she is," agreed the Jedi. "The Force has been with us today. Have our fighters begin mopping up theirs and let's see if that Providence is ready to surrender..."

"Open a channel," Lobinski strode valiantly towards the hologram projector. "This is General Lobinski, Jedi. You are defeated. I will accept your unconditional surrender."

For a few long moments they waited in silence. After the cacophony that was battle, only the subdued tones of mop up still present, the silence seemed almost tangible. Lobinski exchanged glances with Captian Goza and the rest of the bridge crew. At length, he shrugged.

"Are they receiving?"

"I think so," a clone answered. "I'm not detecting any jamming signals and their sensor array seems intact."

"Guess they want to do it the hard way," he turned to Goza. "Ready the marines. I'm going over."

"Sir," the clone sensor operations technician interrupted. "There is still no sign of the droids. The ones that evaded our troops, General, they're still evading our scans."

Lobinski paused. Scratching at his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully, he pondered.

"They don't want to talk. They aren't stalling, at least not obviously." He looked between Goza and the destroyer/carrier lurking off their starboard side. "Maybe they think they've still got a hole card?"

"Could be," Goza said in agreement. "The clankers think they have sabaac."

"Okay," the Jedi Knight nodded. "Put me on speaker, put me on the PA."

"You're on General," spoke a clone.

"Attention, this is your General. Men, we have unwelcome guests aboard. A small force of clankers has gone ghost somewhere in the Titan. Marine sweep teams are already attempting to search them out, but this is a general directive to all crew - you are ordered to find and eliminate the mechanical threat. ARC and Commando troopers will coordinate efforts..."

"And to our unwanted visitors I make the following offer. Abandon your orders, turn yourselves over and I give you my word that you will not be destroyed. Resist and I promise you that we will be sure to smash every circuit, destroy every servo. We will slag you!"

"Cut it," he motioned.

The clone did. "Clear sir."

"I want security teams posted at all essential areas, that means; engineering, communications, reactors... the works."

"They aren't responding to our hail because one or more of those droids probably has a short-wave communicator built in. My guess is that they will try and shut down key systems, probably weapons first, while their crew tries to get their hyper-drive back online. So..."

He tapped a few commands in to a data console.

"Our priority is still their ship. The boarding party is ready, I will lead them. Meanwhile your job, Goza..."

"Not to worry General," supplied the Captain in a no-nonsense sort of way. "We will find them and we will shut them down."

"Good work Captain. You have the bridge."

With that the Jedi Knight left the bridge. In the turbo-lift, two ARC troopers having joined him, he took a moment for quiet contemplation and reflection.

Here he was, a Jedi well in to his twenties and still officially a Knight in the eyes of the Council. Promotion had passed him over numerous times but with the advent of the Clone Wars, with Jedi being called up from across the galaxy to lead the Grand Army of the Republic against the Confederation of Independent Systems threat, he had assumed that soon he would be dubbed a Jedi Master. Alas, years in to the conflict, his hopes had yet to be realized. In truth he was, in many ways, he had far surpassed the requirements for promotion to Master. Yoda had said that it was his desire for recognition, for rank, that held him back. He had trained two Padawan Learners, themselves now Knights and though he had no current student the Council insisted on keeping him on the instructors list. Mathias Lobinski had been a student of the Force for as long as he could remember. He had never met his parents, he had no recollection of them or of his home. The Masters had told him he had been born on Coruscant, that his family was from parts unknown, and that he had been discovered by the Jedi at a very young age. Even then his affinity with the Force was strong. At over six feet tall, blessed with striking features and a firm set square jaw, in his trimmed beard and neatly kempt auburn locks Mathias Lobinski grew to become the perfect image of a Jedi. He became known in the Temple and in the circles that moved in and around the Jedi hierarchy and then, when the war broke, he had taken up the call to arms.

"A call to arms," he whispered, idly stroking the hilt of the lightsabre hung at his hip. "A call..."

"Beg your pardon General?"

One of the ARC troopers was looking at him, that ubiquitous black-visored helmet showing no sign of emotion or concern. The other was readily checking his weapon either oblivious to the Jedi slip or pretending to have missed it.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

A beep sounded in the lift and a second later the doors hissed open to reveal the aft starboard flight deck. Parked among the various craft, V-Wings, V-19's and ARC-170's, were a pair of LAAT gunships. Standing at the ready, their clone crews waited patiently. Two squads of roughly ten men each shot off crisp salutes at the Jedi Generals approach. Half were heavily armed and armoured ARC troopers while the others were marines. Equipped with lighter phase I armour and DC-15 blasters, the marines favoured speed over brute force... unlike the ARC troopers.

"General," one of the clones spoke, stepping forward. His blue striping identified him as a Lieutenant. "We're ready at your word."

"Grease," Lobinski said noting the clones chosen name. He made a point of getting to know as many of their names as possible, now that the trend of name-taking was becoming common in the armed forces. "Good to have you at my side."

He climbed aboard the gunship, offering a hand to the lieutenant, "Let's ride."

Over the on-board address system, a speaker connected to the cockpit filling the passenger compartment with its chatter, Lobinski could listen in as his pilots communicated with flight operations. Clearance was forthcoming. They cleared the deck with shocking speed and sped away from the Titan.

"Men, your orders are as follows; your target will be the bridge of the enemy cruiser. You will make your way via the upper flight deck. Destroy any opposition, that's every clanker you come across. Blow it to bits. If you find any sentient sympathisers you are to take them in to custody. Contact me when you have the bridge secured."

An explosion nearby shook the gunship. Over the internal speakers the pilot offered, "We're flying through some heavy flak. Hold tight back there. Our fighter escort promises us a smooth ride."

The clones laughed or would have, had they not been clones and highly trained at that.

"The second party," Lobinski continued in spite of the continued rattling, "will breach a ventral air-lock. Their target is engineering and their orders are the same - destroy every bot, take anything living prisoner."

"I will scout ahead."

"Do or die!" The clone marines rallied.

Deathly silent, like their commando counterparts, the ARC troopers said nothing.

The next few minutes seemed harrier then they actually were. Unbeknownst to the soldiers and their Jedi leader, cramped as they were in the armoured and shielded compartment of the transport, the droids had started to pour on the fire. Their guns pumped away but for every shot which revealed an emplacement an ARC-170 closed, fired and obliterated the weapon. More then a few shots connected. Some just grazed the hull while others splashed against the shields but these were LAAT's and they were designed to take a kicking and keep on ticking (or so the party line went).

After a short while though the explosions stopped and they knew that they had come within the protective envelope of the enemy ship. Seconds later, feeling the kick of the repulsors, they were inside the ship. Quickly the pilot brought their transport down bouncing off of the deck in their hasty landing.

The blast doors hissed and shot open.

Lobinski was first to pile out, a force-assisted leap sending him some twenty meters. He landed with his cerulean bladed lightsaber blazing. A barrage of blaster fire rained down around him. With uncanny ease he slipped in to a Soresu stance, one comfortable to him as his first area of lightsaber combat studied. Batting the blasts away and a fair number back he provided cover for his clones.

For their part the clones poured out of the gunship under cover of their Jedi General and the point-defence guns of the transport which were designed for just such a purpose. Two marines, packing portable shield generators, knelt down and activated their barriers behind which the ARC troopers took cover. Their big guns, repeating E-Web blasters and PLX-1 missile launchers, blasted away.

Although the flight deck offered little natural protection it was only a short distance to the nearest adjoining corridor. That and the fact that these clones had been trained for just such operations meant that they would make short work of the deck and its defences which, Lobinski noted, were surprisingly spartan.

He reasoned that they had likely lost a large number of droids in their previous scrape but spent little time thinking on such matters. The clones would achieve their objective or die trying. The Jedi would bet on the former. He had his own goals to accomplish however and could not linger long.

Drawing on the Force to speed his footfalls the Jedi dropped his saber arm behind his torso and sprinted forwards. Along with his blue-bladed weapon he became a blur and shot past the first line of droids as if they were not even there. Bringing his blade up and holding it at waist level he cleaved a number of clankers in twine as he passed. And then, just like that, he was gone.

The first corridor he entered was cavernous. Clearly designed to move heavy goods through the ship, the deck plates had been stained by the passage of countless cargo haulers. Oil and grease had been slopped in to the corners and a thick layer of grime, the sort that lingered after a fire, caked the walls.

"Whoever you are running from," Lobinski spoke to the ship itself. "You sure didn't come away unscathed. Looks like you got a bloody nose alright."

Slowing to natural speeds Lobinski continued down the corridor at a slow jog. Ahead, not too distant, a turbo-lift junction was visible. He had no way of knowing where he was going. The Force was guiding his steps. He had lied to his troops, perhaps even to himself. There was something about this whole encounter which called him, tugged at his very soul. But he would not know his goals, or know their achievement, until... well, he would know.

"Not much resistance," the Jedi commented innocently.

"Not much," answered a mechanical baritone. "But some."

Spinning on his heel, sabre at the ready, Lobinski was surprised to see a dozen or so Super Battle Droids all standing with their blaster arms raised and at the ready. Cursing himself for his oversight the Knight realized too late that he must have jogged right past the contingent. Likely they had been hiding in one of the many alcoves that marked these corridors. Regardless, he had faced down worse.

"Some," he agreed. "But not enough."

His saber hissing, Lobinski closed with the mechanical warriors. In a flash he stood among them befuddling their aim. He batted the nearest droid aside, his sabre splitting it from stem to sternum. Then, crouching, he drew the Force into himself. Just as the droids had adapted and brought their guns to bear once again, he released the Force. It exploded around him as pure concussive energy, a shock wave with him at the epicentre.

The droids scattered. Clattering against the walls and tumbling to the floor in a heap those which were not destroyed outright were faced with the task of trying to untangle their limbs from their fellows and regain their footing. None of this was an easy task for a droid.

Lobinski was not about to wait around for them to figure it out. With the Force speeding his steps he sprinted towards the turbo-lifts. With some distance between himself and the crumpled mass of metal which moments ago had been a droid fighting force Lobinski came to a stop and was not at all surprised to find the lift doors sealed and the lifts deactivated.

"Where the Force closes a door," he repeated the age old adage. "It opens a window..."

With his sabre the Knight drew a large ovoid in the dura-steel doors using a Force push to send the chunk of steel clattering in to the tube behind. A second later he followed. For a moment he floated in empty nothingness. Fractions of a second later the artifical gravity kicked in and Lobinski fell. Not far, however; as the lift itself had been frozen in place just one deck down and on it he landed.

Studying his surroundings and taking stock of his options he made a choice.

"Up," he said.

The climb was a strenuous one, even for a Jedi. The lifts used no cords, nor chain or coil. Propelled by repulsor-generators, they operated in smooth walled tubes which left few or no hand-holds. Jedi made their own path and his was marked by sabre burns and gouges a hundred meters long. Up ahead he could see an open shaft.

"Sir," his comlink beeped. It was Grease. "We have the bridge secured. It was a short fight but a fierce one General. I think that whatever fire fight they were in before we found 'em really took the bite out of their bark."

"Good work," Lobinski complimented his clones. Propped awkwardly against the tube wall, one hand gripping a carved out hand hold, he keyed the wrist mounted unit with his nose. "Lock the bridge down. Wait for my word. Lobinski out."

"Back to the task at hand," joked the Jedi. "Never a moments rest."

When he finally reached the open shaft, one running horizontally thankfully, Lobinski poured himself in to the two meter diameter tube taking a moment to catch his breath. Just then his comlink beeped again though in a different tone.

"Lobinski here, go ahead."

"General," it was a clone, one of the marines. "We reached engineering. Everything was clear, minimal resistance. And then he came out of nowhere."

"He? He who?"

"Don't know sir," answered the clone. "He cut the squad down. Only three of us left but I don't know how long we can hold out."

"General?"

"Go ahead trooper."

Silence, and then, "He had a lightsabre."

"Understood trooper. I'm on my way," Lobinski peered down the length of the turbo-shaft. Engineering was almost twenty decks down, back the way he had come. "I'll be a few. Can you hold out?"

Nothing. No response came back over the comlink.

"Trooper?"

"Don't bother," replied a voice, not that of a clone. "Your troopers are dead, Jedi. And soon you will be too. I will see you, see you very soon."

The sound of a boot heel coming down on a microphone was his only company, and short lived at that.

Lobinski frowned deeply.

The cost was steep but the price had been paid and now he knew that whatever secret it was they held it was one important enough that Dooku had sent one of his own to safeguard it. He had lost engineering and half of his fighting force but had managed to keep the bridge and the other, whoever he might be, had destroyed the captured comlink which meant that though he might be aware of the bridge situation he could not keep up to date on further changes. Moreover, whoever he was, he had said he was coming after Lobinski and not the clones on the bridge.

That gave him an idea.

"Grease," he tapped his comlink. "Come in..."

"I'm here General."

"Grease, we have a problem. I need you to get in contact with Goza, get him to send reinforcements post haste. There is a force-user at large. He took out second squad. You get Goza to send more men over here, you get them to secure the deck, engineering and communications."

"Aye sir," Grease hesitated a moment on the other end. "What about you General?"

"Me?" Lobinski chuckled. "I'm going hunting."

Deactivating the comlink he found himself guiltily hoping that his sabre wielding foe had somehow been eves dropping. Had he retained a communicator it would have been easier, a sure bet, to set a trap and ensnare this new foe. As it was he would have to work with what he had. And what did he have, exactly?

He had the Force. He had his training. He had his lightsabre and he had an army of clones. He also had the enemy coming for him.

Sit and wait? He pondered.

Patient is the Jedi, he remembered Yoda saying. But not lazy, the green skinned Jedi Master, venerable though he was, had added with a laugh.

"Ah well," Lobinski smirked at the memory. "Nothing ventured..."

With a shove he pushed himself out of the horizontal shaft and dropped back in to the tube plummeting like a stone, "... nothing gaaaaaaaaained!"

Echoes behind and above him, the echo of his own voice, told the Knight how fast he was falling. Below him the tube seemed to go on forever. It was an optical illusion he knew. Tall though the turbo shaft of such a large ship was, it was not a bottomless pit.

No sooner had he thought that very thing when, quite suddenly, the base of the shaft appeared in the distance. Pulling the Force to himself he focused the powerful energy through his hands and, palms down, shoved against the air. The gesture was purely aesthetic as were most gestures employed by the Jedi but it served to assist the wielder in creating a physical conduit for their metaphysical powers. Rewarded, his speedy fall began to slow. Shedding speed as the tube seemed to taper off he could practically feel the deck below as if his palms were pressed against the cold steel plating. Then, much quicker then he had anticipated, there it was.

Knees tucked, he shoved hard through the Force shedding further velocity, then hit the ground rolling. He came up, dusting his knees to shake some invisible dust and was about to reward him with a witty quip when a sharp snap-hiss interrupted his moment.

"Skilled," mocked that same voice from the comlink. "That was impressive. Clearly you are no novice which is all the better for me."

The Jedi Knight turned his eyes towards the speaker careful not to make any sudden moves. The green blade, shimmering and cutting the air with the tangy scent of ozone, looming ominously above his head was a powerful deterrent. Standing above him with his back to another shaft not unlike the one he had dropped from, was a boy. No older then sixteen or seventeen standard years, the human had dark hair, dark eyes and dark features. He radiated darkness, not only through his appearance but also through the Force. Clad in piecemeal battle armour, not unlike that worn by the Jedi Generals in combat, he looked like a young Knight himself and but for his Force-signature could easily be mistaken for one.

"I don't recognise you," admitted Lobinski. "I have met or seen most of the apprentices. I would have seen you at the Temple on Coruscant. Your sabre and your armour tell me you are Jedi trained... who are you?"

He knew that every for every moment he kept the boy talking he bought himself another moment to plan and to get the upper hand. Cautiously he made to stand up.

"Don't." The boy snarled at him. "Don't move."

"Okay," Lobinski submitted rasing his hands, palms out. "You're in charge."

This gave the boy a measure of further confidence which Lobinski could feel in the Force. A skilled empath, Lobinski had always had a knack for sensing the mood of a person. Augmented by the Force he could nearly read a persons thoughts based on mood and body language.

"What is your name?" He asked.

The lad was quiet a moment. Lobinski could see him thinking it through; strike the Jedi down or play word games? In the end his ego won out but then ego always won out. He had youth and the Darkside against him.

"I was at the Temple," admitted the boy. "When I was just a child..."

Lobinski rebutted the urge to point out that he was a child still.

"But I was not there for long. My Master took me away from the Temple."

This was unusual but not unheard of. Most Jedi stayed at the Temple, on Coruscant or elsewhere, for their early years. They learned the basics of the Force in a classroom setting among peers. It helped to build a strong foundation and instill the youngling Padawan with a formidable understanding of the Force and of its aspects, both Light and Dark. However there were others, Jedi Masters who flew in the face of tradition and espoused the value of focused teaching, of learning through practice and observation not in abstract lessons taught in the safety of the Temple. These Jedi were few and far between and it was from their ranks that most Dark Jedi had arose.

"What was his name?" Lobinski probed.

The boy only scoffed. "It doesn't matter. He's dead now. Your council saw to that. He was a threat, wasn't he? So your Masters, Yoda and Windu, sent him on suicide mission after suicide mission until... It wasn't until the end that he saw the truth, that he understood he had been betrayed by the Jedi. Me, I saw it much earlier."

Lobinski was calm, listening to the boy and feeling the emotion behind his words. He was resolute and while Lobinski doubted his story about the Council he could tell that the boy believed it, believed it through and through to his very core.

"Was that when Dooku found you?"

Here he could feel the boys shock. Somehow he was surprised that Lobinski had made the connection. Perhaps he was unaware of the galactic situation. It was likely that Count Dooku had manipulated the boy, possibly for quite some time. Though he would have liked to explore further he knew that any wasted chance for action could spell disaster.

In that instant, the boy wearing his astonishment like a mask, Lobinski closed his palms. With the Force as his aide he closed intangible hands around the boy, gripping his shoulders firmly. And then he pushed. Hard.

Like a rag doll the boy was sent tumbling down the horizontal shaft his lightsabre spinning out of his grip. He dropped out of sight.

Lobinski cursed himself for his oversight, again. He had not noticed the adjoining vertical shaft. Quick to press his advantage, temporary though it seemed, he darted forward with his sabre in a guard position before dropping down the same shaft.

At only a few meters long the shaft dumped him in to the cavernous bowels of the destroyer. Here he could see the ribbed hull and feel the heat of the not too distant generators which powered the ship. With no time to waste sight seeing Lobinski turned himself to the task of tracking the boy. He didn't have to work hard at it.

A ball of rage and flashing sabre, the boy hurled himself at Lobinski from the rear. The blows were quick and fierce leaving Lobinski barely enough time to defend himself from one attack before launching the next. But here too Lobinski had the advantage. From a purely physical standpoint he was larger and stronger then the boy, his advanced years also furnished him with wealth of experience which the boy could not hope to draw on. However his advantage went beyond the obvious. Mathias Lobinski was an impressively skilled combatant. He had studied Form III, Soresu under such skilled practitioners as Mace Windu and Qui Gon Ginn to name just two. Proficient in this form by age sixteen, about the age of his current adversary, he went on to become a deft master of Niman, the way of the Kryat also known as perseverance form. These two styles of lightsabre combat were intimately connected, they built on one another and leant their learnings to the other. But the greatest advantage Lobinski had was, over his many years of study, the Knight had developed a keen eye for assessing the styles and skills of others.

The boy was employing a rudimentarily fashioned version of Form I, Shii-Cho. Mixed in to his style were elements of the other forms as well. His attacks were unorthodox but effective. They seemed scattered, haphazard. There was a logic behind his volleys that belied his frantic appearance. This, Lobinski speculated, was Vapaad but that would be nearly impossible. Juyo or Vapaad had been created by Masters Windu and Bulq and so dangerous were they, to the practitioner in their leanings towards brutal force, that they had deemed it too risky for any but the most skilled lightsabre combatants.

"You are skilled," said Lobinski complimentarily. "I would like to know who taught you."

Between parrying the boys attacks Lobinski tested the boys defences with a few of his own attacks.

"Why? So you can beat me? Good luck!"

Moving slowly backward in the face of the onslaught Lobinski presented the facade of being out matched.

"No," he wheezed, acting winded. "So that I might know better who you are."

"Ha! All you need to know is that I am the one who is going to kill you!"

Lobinski, sensing the catwalk upon which they fought was nearing its end, dodged a sloppy swing at his legs and, knowing that a mid-section jab would follow, jumped over the following blow twisting mid-flight before landing at the boys back. "Sai," quipped Lobinski. "An overhead leap intended to avoid leg attacks."

"Grah!" The boy snarled. "It's too late for lessons, Jedi!"

Spinning, the boy attacked again. Electing to allow him, rather then strike at the boys back, Lobinski brought the bottom of his blade up, locking his with the boys. With a push, withdrawal and slice he brought the blade of his sabre within milometers of the boys chest close enough that it singed the breast plate of his patchwork armour. "Flowing water cut," informed Lobinski. "Do you know it?"

"Quit playing and fight me!"

Fuelled by his rage the boys attacks took on a new strength but that power came at a sacrifice of skill. While this made each of his attacks more dangerous on their own it compromised his defences. Lobinski had learned, years ago, that while the Darkside could make a man more dangerous, it also put the self in danger. Only the most skilled Darkside adepts could overcome the sloppy styles bred of anger and not clarity of thought.

Opportunity knocked.

"Cho mai," Lobinski triumphed. "The act of severing an opponents weapon hand."

The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Off of one side of the gangplank the boys sabre went tumbling. Off of the other fell his severed hand. To his knees, buckling in the face of his pain, the boy fell. Though gritting teeth, though clutching the wounded stump, he did not cry out and instead with eyes full of hate glared at Lobinski.

"Your anger makes you powerful, boy. It also makes you sloppy. The years of youth, battling your ego and searching for a sense of self, open one to temptation, to the Darkside. Some day, when you are older, I have no doubt that you could become a formidable foe."

"You are not my Master!"

"No," Lobinski agreed. "I am not your Master, but I am your better."

Just then his comlink beeped. Still keeping his attention on the youth he keyed open the microphone.

"Go ahead."

"General," Grease said in his accented basic. "The first reinforcements are coming in now."

"Good," Lobinski replied. "Secure all essential areas and get to work cleaning up the clankers. The Force threat has been contained. Tell Goza he can start landing non-combat personnel."

"Yes Sir. But Sir..."

"What is it Grease?" Lobinski sounded harsher then he planned to but the hate-filled Dark Jedi genuflect before him had his nerves on edge as it was. "Can it wait?"

"Yes sir General but ah... I think I know what they were trying to protect..."

"Go on."

Lobinski could see it in his enemies eyes before his clones could say a word. The heavy weight of failure settled on his shoulders destroying what remained of his resolve. Count Dooku, if rumour could be trusted, was a harsh task master. A man turned to the ways of the Sith, he would not tolerate failure.

"This ship is equipped with a communications node. General, we've accessed the files. We have fleet deployment positions for the Confederates throughout the Mid and Outer Rims along with decryption codes, communication channels... It goes on General. This is a stygium mine if ever there was one."

"Good work Grease, I will join you shortly." Lobinski shut the communicator down.

"Your mission is at an end, lucky for you I am not Dooku... otherwise I believe your life would also be." Lobinski gestured for the boy to stand. "Get up. Your feet still work don't they?"

The boy, defeated, said nothing. Complying he moved ahead of Lobinski and started up the catwalk. He had only taken two steps before Lobinski brought the butt of his sabre hilt down, smashing it in to the soft spot between spine and skull. He crumpled.

"Well boy, you can count your lucky stars it was me and not someone else. The likes of Skywalker would have ended you here."

"Grease," he spoke in to his comlink. "Get a med-splint down here and a case of tranq's. I have a package in need of special attention."



Two days later...

On the bridge of the Titan, Jedi Knight Mathias Lobinski stood beside Captain Goza before the holographic representations of Jedi Master Mace Windu and Jedi Master Yoda.

"Well you have done," declared the diminutive Jedi. "A prize for the Republic this is. Turn the tide it will."

"Yes," agreed the stoic Windu. "A lucky find. The Force is with you, Lobinski."

"Thank you Masters. None of it could have been accomplished without the clones. The real glory is theirs. After all, a Jedi seeks not glory." Lobinski had cleaned his robes, trimmed his beard and tied back his thick, flowing hair for the holo-conference. "The sooner the CIS insurrection is overcome the sooner peace can be restored."

"Agreed," Windu nodded. "And what of the boy, the young Darksider?"

"He is sleeping, forcefully," answered Lobinski. "I pushed him in to a deep meditative trance and with the aid of drugs I will keep him there until it is safe to awaken him. The doctors assure me that there will not be any permanent damage."

"Save for the loss of his hand," put Windu deadpan.

"Well, yes," Lobinski agreed. "Save for that."

"Recalled, you are," informed Yoda. "Return to Coruscant you must. The boy we must see."

"Done well, you have," added Yoda. "With you the Force is... Master Lobinski."

"Master?!" Lobinski stared, wide eyed.

"You heard Yoda," Windu stated evenly. "Out."

The holograms vanished abruptly. Still slack jawed, in awe of this most recent development, Lobinski stood motionless. He did not budge until, waking him from his stunned bliss, Captain Goza slapped an arm over his shoulder.

"Congratulations Master Jedi," he grinned toothily.

Then, stepping back, he snapped to attention, "General!"