ooc: picks up immediately after the events in Genealogy.


The claxons penetrated his still foggy mind with a dull whir whir whir that made his blood pulse hard. Tobal blinked his eyes and tried to focus them, but saw nothing but dark grey. The intensity of the claxon increased, and a voice began to chant the word 'Warning' in a repetitive monotone.

Tobal blinked again, and then shifted his weight. He almost cried out in pain as the left side of his torso reminded him of one of his wounds. Tears appeared quickly when he stood, he grit his teeth in pain. Across the small round cabin of his ancient craft the hyperdrive consol was flickering frantically. A few quick steps brought Tobal to it. A timer was counting down, and it had just hit zero. Tobal swore and lunged for the correct button.




The Infiltrator-class craft the Shadow reemerged from hyperspace dangerously close to the planet of Naboo. More alarms began to sound, and the com system lit up almost immediately.

"Computer!" Tobal cried desperately. "Computer!"

No reply from a reassuringly emotionless voice came to the rescue. Tobal glanced over the controls, everything was set to manual. He sat down, strapped in, and set his hands onto the controls in the manner prescribed by Mike's Beginners Flying. Shavit, he thought. He'd never landed in atmosphere before, that's what the computer was for.





The dust was beginning to clear when Tobal finally hit the button that opened the back of his craft. The com system was still beeping and chattering as more than one outraged person demanded an explanation for the outrage. He was too tired to deal with it, and to be truthful he wasn't particularly gifted with people skills.

He was a sight to behold. His white hair, normally kept neat, clean, and wrapped up in some way, hung loose and free. It had once hung to his waist, but now only portions of it remained at that length. His clothing, usually neat and clean like his person was dirty, ripped, and burnt. Dried blood covered his left side, and a hasty bandage was visible through a burn in the clothing. His face was swollen in places where Matrim had landed a blow -- one eye was nearly closed from the swelling. A short man, standing no more than five foot two at the best of times, he appeared even shorter as he limped his way down the ramp, favoring his left side.

There was quite a crowd here, he noticed through is good eye. There would naturally be. A twenty-five meter craft landing very sloppily right in the middle of an exercise field wasn't the usual way of visiting the Jedi temple.

Tobal looked around at the various people. Many he could tell were Jedi in training, or Jedi hopefuls. Others were simply there for the athletics, or maybe they too were Jedi hopefuls. He had never been able to tell by look or feel who could be who.

He tried to hold his head high, and walk toward the Temple with confidence. He was a Knight of the Shadow Order, and he had his pride. But not twenty feet from his craft the proud Jedi of the Shadow Order collapsed in a dead faint. The wound in his side reopened when he hit the ground, and the bandage fell away.

Irtar was, as his usual way lately, training trying to develop his skills with the force when he heard it. A loud roaring sound, Irtar looked up and saw a burning object, coming straight for him. He was able to make out the outline of what looked like... A STARSHIP!?! Irtar's face went white as the thing seemed like it was going to crash in mere moments, the other apprentices and knights shouting and running from the courtyard for whatever cover they could find.

The Knight who was aiding Irtar's studies grabbed the stunned Padawan and pulled him under cover when the ship came down. Thankfully, it didn't damage anything but the ground and the ship when it came down. Within moments, the curious approached the vessel, one of which was Irtar. He had his training saber close at hand to see what was happening.

The rear hatch moved, and opened and from within came a figure that seemed pretty badly wounded, with blood streaming down his face. The man walked, his chin high and seemed full of pride none-the-less. Until the man collapsed a couple of steps later.

Irtar was the first brave (or foolish) to approach the unconcious body. Irtar's bred and raised nature to help people taking command of his better sense to ask questions. The padawan took began to dab the wound his robe and looked at some of the others gathered.

"Well? Someone call a doctor or something!" Irtar shouted, trying to tend to the strangers wounds with what little medical knowledge he knew.

"Light and Dark, apprentice. The Force has only two parts, each perfectly balanced by the other."

"But what if one does not serve either side?"

"That cannot happen."



Vodo felt a swirl in the Force as the ship crashed into the ground just outside the Jedi Temple. Vodo had been meditating near a large fountain that dominated the grounds near the main gate.

He was always meditating.

With Master Organa offplanet, it had fallen to Vodo and Kenshin Katarn to watch after things until she had return. Because of this, Vodo had been constantly bogged down with classes, training schedules, and paperworkk.

Ahh... the paperwork.

He had been named the Jedi Order's official liason with the Queen of Naboo, and he spent alot of his free time conversing with her. She was constantly demanding reports of all kinds on Jedi activities. Naboo had suffered greatly because of the Jedi, and the Naboo all kept a safe distance with them. The city was filled with a kind of remote wariness.

By the time Vodo had reached the crashed ship, a crowd had gathered, along with several Jedi. One of which was crouching next to a fallen, bleeding man, who had apparently stumbled out of the ship.

He pushed his way to the front.

" ....call a doctor or something!" The young Jedi, whom Vodo recognized as the apprentice Mal'Gro, shouted. As a teacher, Vodo felt a stab of mild dissaproval of him immidiately. But he quickly placed it aside and knelt down next to the stranger.

"We need to get him to the temple." Vodo stated flatly, picking the man up in his arms with some aid from the Force, "Go ahead of me and get the medical droids ready." He said.

With Master Leia Organa on a mission off world, responsiblity of running the fledgling Academy soon fell onto the shoulders of Jedi Vodo Baas as well as Kenshin himself. With no Apprentice of his own, the Jedi Knight found himself taking on most of the youngling classes as...well mostly becayse he was good at avoiding the paperwork. Whenever he saw the stacks of paper that accumulated he always felt a sense of renewed respect for the Jedi Master. He would never be caught, alive or dead, behind a desk like that. The thought or having to read all those reports made him shudder.

So, like any of the previous days in the good Master's absence, Kenshin found himself in one of the Academy's gardens surrounded by the adoring faces of little Jedi. The lesson had been basic lightsaber moves and it was almost comical to watch as the kiddos waved their training sabers of green and blue, their faces shrouded behind visors which obstructed their sight and forced them to use the Force to apprehend the upcoming lasers.

"Oye...not bad." He said to a Padawan named Hawthe who had just deflected a bolt right back at the droid, hitting it head on. It seemed to be only luck however, as the boy wasn't able to recreate such a blow. At this Kenshin chuckled. Suddenly he felt a tug on his sleeve and he turned to see a girl named Deyna.

"Master Katarn..." She began uncertainly. "There is something burning in the sky..."

Turning around, Kenshin looked up to see a smoking ship enter the atmosphere and streak across the brilliant blue backdrop of a sky. To his surprise, bad surprise that is, it was heading straight for the Jedi Academy grounds. If he guessed correctly, it would end up somewhere near their doorstep. Right. Class was now dismissed.

Sending the kids back to the nurseries, Katarn made his way to the front of the complex. Weaving through the crowd, he saw that Jedi Baas and his Apprentice Irtar were already taking care of the fallen man. He guessed it would be his place to take care of the wreck of a ship. As the medical droids came to bring the man to the medical ward, Kenshin signalled for the wreck to be brought to the hangars before following Vodo and Irtar.

Irtar looked up as the form of the Jedi Knight, Vodo Bass, made his way through the crowds and told Irtar to make his way ahead and get the medical droids in the temple prepared. The padawan always felt compelled to call Vodo, Master Bass for he just gave out that commanding atmosphere. He had, as of yet, not had Vodo as a teacher but he had heard that he was a good one. Harsh, and trying, indeed, but he was a skilled teacher none-the-less. Also, it was the only thing they had only Leia returned.

Irtar knew his way well to the medical droids, considering how many times he's hurt himself over his time at the Academy. He had even begun getting pitty from the old Naboo man that ran the little hospital of the Academy. 'What have you done to yourself this time Irtar?' was a common thing for him to hear now-a-days.

The apprentice bowed to Vodo in a formal manner that he had begun to adopt from overviewing the old Jedi holocrons. "I'll be as swift as I can." Irtar said calmly as he got up and made his way down the halls towards the medical center.

After about half a minute or so of force assisted running, Irtar made his way into the medical bay and the old man looked up from his desk. He nodded slightly to Irtar and walked towards a console for the bacta tank.

"So Irtar, what can I do for you today? Break your leg again?" The doctor said with a slight laugh.

"No no... it's not me today." Irtar said, his voice strangely serious. "Vodo Bass is bringing in the survivor from this crash that happened in the courtyard."

"Are you serious?"

"They should be here shortly."

The old man nodded and began to prepare the bacta tank for this survivor. The old man assumed the worst.

Ever since he first laid eyes on one Silonik wanted to weld a lightsaber. To feel it's cool hilt in his scaled hands, feel and hear the heat and pleasent humm of the blade so close to his person without fear. At the time however, he wasn't far enough in his training to start practicing with one, being so new to the Academy. It was something to look forward to though that helped keep his mind off of recent events: the recent appearence of his father under control of a very powerful evil spirit was enough to unsettle anyone and the innocent young mind of a child was no exception. Fortunately the staff at the Academy and his friend Mortor, the only other Trandoshan at the Academy, had helped him through that tramatic time and he was able to focus on his training once again.

He held his blue training saber in front of him steadily, trying to determine where the droid would strike next. To his dismay what he called 'mist vision', a mental 'eye' that allowed him to see when his eyesight was inhibited, was of little use. Sure he could see the speedy little droid, but not it's blaster bolts or his the blade of his saber, meaning he had no way of knowing when it fired or if his saber was in the right place to block it: he had already been stung a couple of times. From the sound of the 'yelps' from his friend Mortor, the only other Trandoshan padawan in the Academy, he wasn't having much luck either. Obviously this sort of thing required an additional Force ability to counter.

Just as he was starting to get the hang of it and start actually reflecting bolts, Master Katarn suddenly dismissed the class after being told something was 'burning in the sky'. Knowing this wasn't normal, Silonik pulled off the visor and looked up at the sky to see a ship in trouble. A childs curiousity overtook him and he wanted to stay and see what happened, but Master Katarn bid them back inside the Academy building. Disappointed but not going to disobey, Silonik followed the rest of the students back into the building.

"Hey Silonik." He heard Mortor hissed behind him. "We can watch from the door."

The slighly older Trandoshan considered this for a moment, but shook his head. "No Mortor, Master Katarn said to go back inside."

"But we are inside." Mortor said smugly.

"Back to the nurseries." Silonik clarified.

"Feh...we are not babies!" Mortor huffed. "We are big T'Doshok." To show he wasn't going to change his mind, he plopped down right by the door just inside the building, watching eagerly.

"We're gonna get in trouble..." Silonik said with a sigh as he sat down next to him. Still he couldn't help but be a bit excited, as this was obviously not something that happened every day.

They didn't have to wait long. The ship half landed, half crashed practically on the Academy's doorstep and out came out a white haired man that looked to be having one of those bad days where one had rather stayed in bed. A crowd quickly formed after the man collapsed, blocking Silonik and Mortor's view.

"Ok I think we've seen enough now Mortor." Silonik muttered as he watched Irtar run by them a very short time later.

"Just a little longer..." Mortor whispered, glued to his spot.

"No...we go now!" Tired of his friends stubbornness, Silonik lifted him up by the tunic, using the Force to assist him, and started pulling him back toward their room. It was rather funny, if you weren't Mortor that is.

"That's cheating..." Mortor mumbled, pouting. "You big spoil sport..."

"You would have gotten us both in trouble if we lingered any longer." Silonik retorted.

The gentle bob of a stride had roused Tobal soon after being lifted from the ground. Rather than do something foolish, such as panic and try to free himself, he continued to lay limp in the being's arms. He was beginning to get signals from his body. Everything seemed to hurt -- sleeping on a steel floor for thirty hours had not helped in that respect. Oddly enough it was his face that hurt the most, not the deep wound in his side. The puffing and swelling made his face feel foreign, and that in turn made him feel uncomfortable.

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In what seemed like seconds -- he must have fainted again -- Tobal felt himself being laid down on a more giving surface. Probably a bed somewhere he reasoned. Though his warrior instincts told him to rise and assess the situation with his own eyes, something deep within told him to wait and rest. This time he trusted the latter. As the beings about him began to strip off his tattered clothing, he faded out of consciousness once again.

The Force was an ocean of life. Yet at the same time, the Force was also death.

For was not life just the beginning of death? And death only the beginning of even more life? Wasn't it?

Were there two sides locked in an eternal struggle for control? Or did they work together?

Some would say the dark side was death, but you couldn't have life without death. And there could be no death without life. There could be a balance.

Was there any need for one?



Such questions plagued Silus' thoughts, ever since those events with the Sha'ta'lusk. So much had changed in so little time. But time was a funny little thing. A thousand things could happen in the barest of a second.

He was no longer a Sith. Not so long ago, he had been happy to follow the religion revolving around power, cruelty and, above all else, death. Silus had been happy to punish those beneath him and, in turn, seek the destruction of those above. It was a constant circle; the strong preyed on the weak and the weak in turn plotted against the strong. In many ways it had been the most deadly of tightrope acts.

And now, he was... a Jedi? Maybe, but there were questions he needed to answer before he would think of himself as one. Some considered the two opposites, but now that he could see with his own eyes they were much like the two faces of the same coin. Of course, no master wanted an excuse to cut his student's arm off. If you made a mistake there was - although it depended on the skill of the master - no fear of electrocution. While there were rivalries, you never actually had to shake the covers in search of scorpions.

Silus sighed. He let his mind wander too much of late. Of course, he had plenty of time. Perhaps that was a fault, having too much time on one's hands. It could certainly lead to a big headache. Maybe if he was lucky, he could find a strong drink. This was a Jedi temple and there were a good number of young apprentices about, so the chances were unlikely. However, sometimes the hoping was nearly as good.

With a smile, Silus turned his attention to the rest of the temple and in a rising state of awareness began to realize that something wasn't right. He stuck out an arm and grabbed the shoulder of a running apprentice. The surprise was enough to make the poor boy jump and give a yelp.

"Sorry about that," said Silus. This at least settled the boys nerves, although they looked likely to jump at any moment.

"Tell me, lad, what's going on?"

"There a ship!" the boy said excitedly, in only the way children can whenever everything begins to go to hell and there's the chance of seeing someone disemboweled.

"A ship?" asked Silus below raised eyebrows.

"Yep! Great big starship! Crashed! They say there's blood and arms and everything!"

Silus grimaced for a second and wondered who the smart little ass 'they' happened to be. "Careful, lad. Remember your training. Did you hear anything else?"

"Yep! There was a man aboard!" Well, that wasn't news. There were plenty of bad pilots in the galaxy. Silus was just glad he didn't happen to be one of them.

"They said he had long white hair. Tristy says that's wierd."

"Really?" The boy nodded and took on a big grin.

"Yeah, it is kind o' wierd." Silus only grunted.

"Run along, boy, or you'll miss everything!" The boy nodded excitedly and took off at a dead run again. Of course, someone would stop him, and chances were the boy would recieve a few sharp words for his curiosity. But he was young, and he needed to enjoy the world a bit before all the troubles came crashing down.

White hair... why does that remind me of something?

Carefully, Silus reached out in the Force and began to feel an almost familier presence. He could remember it, long ago, when his abilities had not been nearly what they were now. Past events had changed that.

Tobal. With a sense of purpose, Silus made his way to the Temple's medical ward.

The doctor was examining the wounded guy with white hair, as Irtar sat to the side, watching everything unfold. The doctor was going to determine whether the patient needed Bacta or not. Bacta was expensive, and was generally only a last line of defense. Unless told otherwise by a Jedi Knight or Master.

The white haired man seemed as if he was in terrible condition. Irtar felt the aura of the Force on the man now that he had time to focus. But it didn't feel like the auras of the Knights and Padawans it felt... different. It felt more violent and uncontrolled. Maybe it was because the man was wounded?

Irtar scratched his chin in thought about the man before him. His look, his aura, everything felt off. Irtar's one hand went to his belt, near where his practice saber was. What if this man was violent? As it stands, Irtar would wait for the decision of his superiors before taking any action, but keeping watch. Waiting for the doctor to make his decion, or have it made by Jedi who want to get the man on his feet as soon as possible.

Vodo stood staring at the man laying on the table as a short, stubby Chadra-Fan doctor, Tekis, who had been called in from her office in Theed only moments ago, bustled about, administering bacta, applying bandages and the like. Several Emdee medical droids also stood nearby checking vital signs and readouts.

This didn't seem like your run-of-the-mill star pilot losing control of his vessel. This was much different. Something seemed out of place.

Doctor Tekis picked up a laser scalpel and cut a long line through the mysterious man's tunic, exposing his bare chest.

And a lightsaber.

Tekis stood back for a moment, and Vodo heard the collective gasp from the other Jedi currently in the medical ward.

Vodo cast a glance at Irtar before reaching out and picking up the battered weapon. It was of crude design, nothing more than simple cylinder with an activation switch. But there was no mistaking it as a Jedi weapon.

"Well..." Vodo muttered under his breath, "This is most interesting."

Vodo again looked at the one lying on the table, and then back again at the multiple Jedi apprentices who had gathered. Vodo felt a twinge of annoyance, this was not a spectator event.

"Everyone out. Please go back to your activities." He said in a loud voice. Through the Force he felt dissapointment as the half-dozen apprentices filed out, including Irtar.

"Stay please, Mal'Gro." Vodo said, "Please stand watch over the medical ward. I will return shortly."

He headed out of the infirmary, intending to go to the analysis archives.

And almost walked headlong into Silus.