The dreams had been getting worse.

So bad were her nightmares, so terrible and disturbing, Captain d’Foose of the Gestalt Defense Fleet had been forced to take a sabbatical. Forced, she recalled, by her superiors.

It had begun to impact her work, negatively. She’d stopped sleeping, become insomniac. Caffeine could only do so much and the pills… The admiralty would not abide a drug addled ships commander, no exceptions. Solution; enforced vacation.

Two weeks, pending medical review, before she could step foot on the bridge of a starship. Her world had collapsed. For three years she had served with distinction, three years without so much as a weekend to herself. Suffice to say she had developed something of a routine.

And now that routine had been broken.

The doctors had come up with all sorts of technological terminology to explain her condition but all it amounted to was burnout. Mental fatigue, she’d paid it no thought. Headlong without heed for her own sanity, d’Foose had burnt her candle at both ends for so long she hardly remembered the last time she had read a book, taken a leisurely bath.

It was only natural, the doctors implied, the backlash.

Six months prior the dreams had started. Everything had become a blur since. At first she had been able to fight it, hide her problems and put on a strong face. Sleeping pills, provided secretively by her ships doctor, had helped for a week before the dosage became dangerous. Next she moved on to the pep pills, a rainbow of stimulants that made her testy, anxious, nervous. Then the dreams got worse.

She wasn’t sleeping. They called it a ‘waking dream’.

And then it had all come to a head during a fleet exercise. Men were injured, almost killed and her ship badly damaged. All in one fell swoop her world came crashing down around her. An investigation followed and it did not take long for the hounds to expose her addiction, her insomnia. Charges were laid and it had been only her distinguished service and connections in the command structure that saved her from a dishonorable discharge.

At the hearings they laid the blame squarely at her feet.

She had been too tired to be ashamed, too dazed to be angry. Her defense, or lack-there-of, had incriminated her further. She had not even tried, she could see no point and maybe, just maybe, she knew she deserved it. The failure was hers, she had become a danger to herself and those around her. Her options were severely limited, hers and those in command of her destiny in the fleet.

But she was a hero of the colonies, had become an iconic media figure in the years prior. Captain d’Foose was a child of the colonies, there had to be hope for her recovery and, when cut to the facts, no one had been killed. Even the injured, men under her command, could not bring themselves to speak ill of the colonial starlet. All the same it was a debacle, a mess that threatened to publicly embarrass the colonial fleet. Something had to be done.

Favors had been called in, contacts contacted. The colonial government and fleet command agreed that it would be best for everyone if Captain d’Foose disappeared for a while and so they had sent her somewhere that she could keep out of the limelight, somewhere safe and friendly…

… somewhere like Kashan, in the Contegorian Confederation. Longtime allies of the colonies, the Kashans had been only too willing to oblige the good Captain, a woman who had in her own time become a friend of the confederates.

It was supposed to be a vacation but it felt like exile and between bouts of depression and anxiety she harbored feelings of resentment, as though abandoned by the people she had sacrificed so much for. Unjust, she knew, were her emotions but she didn’t care, couldn’t care. She was just too burnt out, too used up and anger was just too easy in this state.

By way of making her time away more comfortable, fleet operations had booked her charter aboard the cruise-liner that ran the route between the colonies and Kashan. They had spared no expense in booking her lodgings aboard ship. Her estate room was spacious and well accommodated with an impressive view of the ships dorsal ridge and the stars that raced by. She didn’t care.

She only wanted to sleep.

The first few nights she had tried to fight the urge to drug herself in to a stupor but for the visions that consumed her every waking moment, she could not. Incoherent and confusing as they had been from the start, she was bombarded by images and sounds she could not make sense of but they terrified her just the same. By day three she had opened the mini-bar and started drinking everything with an alcohol level high enough to seem hopeful.

When she finally passed out, due exhaustion, she found no relief.

Again the dreams assailed her.

She saw herself standing on the bridge of a ship unlike anything she had known in her years among the stars but knew somehow that this was her ship, her command. Creatures, inhuman monsters with limbs akimbo and awash in gore moved around her, manipulating the controls of the vessel according to her will. Horrible pained wails pounded against her ear drums like the wash of blood at the edge of unconsciousness. A child was crying and when she focused on it she realized it was her own crying. She saw herself as a child in a crib, alone in a burnt field. Bolts of crimson and azure rained down around her turning the ground molten and she was alone, abandoned. The crib breathed, it unfurled spider-like legs around her and pulled her in to a maw of biting teeth and jagged bone. As the darkness and pain consumed her she felt herself being torn apart, her flesh being rendered from bone and spat out like so much offal. But the nightmare refused to end and in the depths she saw a far distant light, a glowing orb of the most sallow pallor. Moving towards it, pulling her broken body along a surface of broken glass and burning embers, she clawed her way towards it only to find herself looking out of her own eyes, looking down on a group of helpless, defenseless humanity. They clutched each other, held their children to their breasts, while trying desperately to climb over one another in a hopeless attempt to escape her piercing stare. A beam of light, a shaft of luminescence of the same sickly yellow, filled the air between herself and those who sought to evade her. It waved threateningly as she heard herself speaking, heard herself threatening those cowed desperate. And then, screaming at herself to stop, saw through her own eyes as the woman she knew herself to be cut a swath through them. A blaring sound like the emergency klaxon of a fleet cruiser cut through her nightmare…

Captain d’Foose shot up, sat bolt upright where she had collapsed on the floor twenty four hours prior. Someone was speaking and it took her full concentration to cut through the haze of a hang-over and discern the words. It was, she understood, the ships automated public address system and it was informing her that they had arrived at Kashan.

She stood with difficulty and moved to the washroom. A dozen or so bottles, pill bottles, crowded the sink counter and she knocked the majority over trying to get at the taps. Cool water poured over her fingers. Cupping her hands she splashed the liquid on her face, pausing to look at herself in the mirror. Looking back at her was a face unknown to her, a face drawn and pale beset by red-rimmed eyes lurking behind big, black bags.

Help, she needed help desperately. Medicine had failed her, the doctors could not provide a suitable diagnosis for her condition. Somehow though she knew that they never would be able, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that whatever it was… it was beyond medicine, possibly beyond psychiatry. On those occasions when the world seemed to tremble around her she feared the tremors were not in her head alone.

Too old, too wise for her yet youthful years was she that she did not believe in magic, she did not give credit to curses or spells but even she was beginning to have her doubts. Paranoia was unfamiliar, and unknown bedfellow but it lurked on the fringe of her awareness constantly.

It took her a few minutes to realize the knocking sound she had been hearing was not inside of her own head. Moving to the door uneasily she slapped the activator and was greeted with a rosy red smiling face.

“Welcome to Kashan,” spoke the chipper young girl.

“I’ll get my stuff,” was all d’Foose could manage before shutting the door on the sickeningly sweet hostess.

Two weeks, she reminded herself. She had two weeks to get her act together, to absolve herself of whatever nightmares plagued her and prove to her superiors she was fit for command.

“Good luck,” she said to herself before setting off. “Good bloody luck.”

Camp Shipwright, Kashan

“Why is this important?” blurted out the agent.

The two CSIS officers stopped midtracks on their tour of the barracks. Director Howe gave Adrian a bemused smile, and shook his head slowly. Ravenna subtly glanced about to make sure the pair weren’t being monitored. Howe closed distance with the Jensaarai until Adrian almost felt claustrophobic.

“You’re a naturalized citizen, aren’t you?”

The Jensaarai nodded.

“Well, let me tell you something then, that you probably aren’t aware of; most people these days don’t. In the beginning days, the closest ally of the Confederation was not the New Galactic Coalition of Planets, it was rather the Gestalt Colonies. And they continue to be close allies, even friends, with Kashan and several of the founding memberstates of the Confederation; there even is a close friendship between Rear-Admiral Lucerne and Vice-Commodore Shipwright, their leader.”

“That is who this camped is named for?”

Howe nodded. “So this requires some delicate handling. I can’t just send in a squad of CSIS agents armed with concussion guns. First because she’s a Gestalt Colonial officer, and anything detrimental to her would be rather deleterious to the Gestalt-Confederation relationship, but also because she’s been on some drugs. We don’t know how she’ll act. And frankly, I don’t want the chance of having a crazy Jedi running around on our planet.”

“A Jedi?”

“Well, I don’t know actually,” replied Howe, “but that would be my guess. I don’t think the Gestalt Colonies would have a Sith.”

“She may not even know that she’s a force-user…”

“Possibly,” admitted the Director, “but despite our friendship, the Confederation and Colonies do have some secrets that the other probably doesn’t know about, at least not the complete truth. She could be one of them.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Confront her about her latent abilities, or as you suggested, inform her that she’s force-sensitive.”

“I take it you won’t want her running around either on vacation too?”

“Perceptive,” grinned Howe, “and yes, I want her kept under watch, your watch, in fact.”

Ravenna merely nodded again.



The Jensaarai stared through the double-paned ceraglass into the holding cell that held d’Foose. It was a rather Spartan affair, a cube of living space encased by reinforced duracrete, with a single Mirrsteel door offering any connection to the outside world. Adrian turned to the monitoring officer.

“How long has she been detained?”

“Ah, after our security sensors informed us that she was force-sensitive, she got to wander the spaceport before you were informed and she was detained. I’d say she’s been in the cell for three hours.”

“Has she done anything…interesting?”

“No sir.”

Ravenna nodded. “Then I guess I’m going in to speak to her.”

Adrian smoothed out his light gray CSIS officer’s uniform; one which he rarely wore because of his extensive service in the field. He slipped his hand into his pants’ pocket to rest on the cold hilt of his lightsaber, and idly began to shuffle over towards the cell. He reached the Mirrsteel doors, and a pair of Kashan shock troopers opened the door for him, and shut it behind him as Ravenna entered. The Jensaarai stared at the blonde woman, and spared an awkward glance at the duracrete floor.

“I am Investigator Adrian Ravenna, of the Confederation Security and Intelligence Service. You’re probably wondering why you’re here in a cell, rather than enjoying the sights of Solace, and to that, we owe you both an explanation and an apology.

It has come to our attention, Miss d’Foose, that you are a Force-sensitive. As part of the new security measures set up after the Brandenburg incidents, we have a variety of sensors to pick out possible threats, including Force-sensitives. Frankly, we are somewhat concerned about public safety given your recent activities combined with your latent powers. You will, of course, be allowed to enjoy your vacation unhindered shortly, though with the companionship of a CSIS officer, namely myself, to ensure that the public safety is not compromised.

There, the official lines are done. Now what I’m about to ask is completely off the record. Did you, Miss d’Foose, know about your Force-sensitivity before our little chat?”

She sat and she stared.

Her expression blank, an emotionless mask, she blinked once, twice, three times.

d’Foose sat, as she had for three hours now, with her hands folded patiently in her lap, and studied her interrogator with the same nonplused look of indifference she had worn since her detainment. She attempted to convey her mood and did so adequately.

This was not what she had expected and she did not entirely believe it.

In the back of her mind she was weighing her options, debating the possibilities between swelling waves of exhaustion and nausea. Her skepticism was winning out. Maybe, she considered, this was their plan all along; the admiralty, her own people had sold her out. Was it possible that this was all a part of their plan? Had they hatched a scheme to have her confined?

The confederates were a powerful people and a paranoid people at that. They had fought the Empire on every front and had been shaped by that conflict. If the colonials wanted to make someone disappear then they had contacted the correct nation.

Sensors to detect force-sensitivity? She supposed such a thing was possible and if it was the confederates would certainly be the people most likely employ them. Terrorism was everywhere and the confederates had seen their fare share. If so then it seemed logical enough but where did the connection to the force come in? Had they become so insular as to regard such mysticism as criminal or was it just an excuse, the sort propaganda they locked people away with?

What did she know? What were the facts?

The facts were that she had been shipped away from her home and detained against her will, that she had become the victim of an unknown condition and that some confederate suit was trying to probe her for information.

There were more questions then answers and she didn’t like it. So, she played along.

“When I was a child there was a man,” she spoke evenly, her eyes firmly fixed on the young man, her captor. “He was a friend of my father. The Empire had come to power, the Jedi gone. I remember he and my father talking, he was asking to take me away…”

The intelligence officer was quiet as if silently urging her to continue, compelling her to open up, and the feeling was hard to resist. She felt no urge to resist; it was unlike anything she had been exposed to. Unsure at its source she imagined herself tired and too worn by circumstance to be difficult.

“My father would not have it,” continued d’Foose. “And then when the Empire came…”

All at once she felt herself closing up, “When my father died…”

Abruptly she found herself glaring at the man before her, felt her features twisting up angrily. The sense that she had been violated was suddenly overwhelming. At the center of it, this feeling, was the man, Ravenna.

For decades the galaxy had been nearly devoid of Jedi. She had grown up believing the mystic traditions of the force naught but legends from centuries long since forgotten. Now, here was this man telling her that she was somehow connected to that. For a moment she wondered if they had drugged her but she had consumed nothing and doubted very much any airborne agents given the proximity.

She said as much.

“There are no Jedi. The Force is not real,” and then, clamping down and returning to her training, d’Foose shut down. “Name, d’Foose. Rank, Captain- Gestalt Unified Forces serial number Alpha ten dash oh six nine.”

Concluding that enough information had been revealed on her part d’Foose decided she would offer nothing further until her hosts decided to do likewise. The man, Ravenna, had himself offered only the self-described official lines and even his off the record query seemed somewhat ingenuine. It was entirely possible that he was being sincere but through the muck and mire clouding her judgment d’Foose figured to wager on the side of caution, of reservation.

Near as she could tell they had no right by which to confine her, no formal charges had been laid and the method by which Ravenna had described their caution smacked of fearful abuse. Either she had been sent up the river by the colonies or the confederates had their own perspective on personal rights and freedoms. Their indication that she would be able to enjoy the rest of her time on Solace was tempered by the condition that she would be escorted, observed throughout.

Captain d’Foose crossed her arms and fell silent.





Crackling noisily the fire burned hot in the hearth.

Waves of heat washed over the men sitting in the high backed leather chairs set before the mason-made fire place. One, a square jaw and clean shaven man, wore the uniform of the Republican Grand Army while the other, a man with long auburn hair tied back and a thick beard of the same, was draped in simple brown robes.

The latter spoke.

“Master Yoda has gone in to hiding,” he was frowning, deep furrows in his brow accenting the serious tone of his words. “The Jedi declared enemies of the Republic…”

“Empire,” interrupted the man in uniform.

The other nodded.

“Have they recalled you yet?” He asked.

“Yes,” replied the republican general nodding. “My men too. We are to return to the Core for the, ahem, good of the new Galactic Empire. It smacks of a set up.”

“I won’t go,” he added.

“Nor should you. It would not be safe for you or your family. What will you do?”

He shrugged. “Fight.”

The robbed figure stroked his beard and nodded. “What about your family?”

Again, the general shrugged. “There are still places to hide and I still have friends where it counts. They will be safe even if we can’t be together.”

“What about your daughter?”

Here the general paused and stared at length at the burning embers tumbling through the grille at the bottom of the flames, below the fresh cut timber burning sweetly. For a long time he said nothing, only cradled his glass of amber alcohol while stroking the edge of his thick moustache.

“No,” he put simply. “Once, it might have been safe but not now. I can’t put her in harms way no matter how strong your feelings are. If the Jedi are being exterminated as the rumors say… there’s no hope in it.”

Continuing, the man added, “I know you had wanted to train her and for a time I entertained the idea but not now, not with the way things are changing. What good could it do, turn my daughter in to an instrument of your force just to have her hunted down by the likes of men I once commanded?”

Here, the Jedi sighed before repeating the same argument he had used time and again on his long time friend. “The Force is hope my friend.”

The two sat and debated long in to the night but the general would not give an inch, his mind was made up. Times were changing and those who refused to change with them were doomed to extinction. The Galaxy was evolving, for better or worse, and it would be only the fittest who survived, the strongest.

As they sat and talked late in to the night a pair of eyes, young and bright, watched on from the top of the stairs half-cloaked in shadows and hidden from sight. She watched her father with adoration, a child of few years, with no conception of what the future would bring.

Many years later, locked in a cell and at the end of her rope, that girl would remember with sudden clarity the way, in the midst of their discussion, the long-haired and robed man turned in his chair and fixed her with a knowing gaze… and the truth she saw there-in.

Ravenna studied the woman carefully, noting her posture, which seemed to project indifference. Of course, Adrian couldn’t be entirely sure of that, given that he wasn’t a specially trained interrogator or a nonverbal semiotician. But if he had learned anything during his experience out in the field, especially with a certain Calla Phrog, it was that appearances were deceptive. As the woman began to talk, he adopted an immediancy stance taught to him by CSIS to convey friendliness and openness when undercover. His torso faced the woman, and he slightly leaned forward. The Jensaarai stared into the woman’s eyes, and nodded occasionally as he listened to her story carefully. There is something about her though that doesn’t seem quite right…Ravenna reached out into his mind, and probed the feelings emanating from the woman…such negativeness…anger…that is a dangerous emotion; especially to those who walk the path of light. His right hand tightened its grasp on his lightsaber hilt, still concealed within the pocket.

“There are no Jedi. The Force is not real…Name, d’Foose. Rank, Captain- Gestalt Unified Forces serial number Alpha ten dash oh six nine.”

Adrian rocked back on his heels. Well, this is wonderful. I feel like a lawyer interrogating a hostile witness, a parent teaching a child a hard truth…He blinked…and she’s the one older than me, I think. And I find it hard to believe if she’s really fallen for that Imperial propaganda…he slightly frowned…though I can’t say that I’ve met who are active in the Jedi Order; I’ve only seen those of who have fallen, or those who wish to disappear from this galaxy; trying to escape their cruel fates as the Sith and the Jedi Corps attempt to hunt them down. He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Despite what you may think, Miss d’Foose, I am not here to make your life more complicated, and the Confederation isn’t taking you as a prisoner of war. You must understand something, and that is that the Confederation has seen too many deaths from force-users from fallen and corrupted Jedi, and even the Sith. We try to prevent that from happening whenever possible. And it does happen, I know, because I have faced these force-users, and believe me, the Force is very real…hm…manifested, in those situations. But the Force flows through everything, all the time, for every Coruscant second.”

The agent paused.

“I don’t think that you have been aware of your latent connection, and my report will say that. But ignorance of reality is a serious illness which I feel obliged to cure…”

The Susevfian’s right hand whipped out the burnished lightsaber hilt, on which he tapped a button. A cobalt beam sprang from the hilt to exhibit the technological marvel of the lightsaber in all of its glory. Slowly, Adrian let his fingers uncurl from the hilt, and let the saber hang between the two in mid-air, held in a static position by telekinesis. Adrian’s emerald eyes drilled through d’Foose eyes to peer into her soul itself.

“The Force exists, Captain, and the Jedi as well,” challenged the Jensaarai, “or would you like more demonstrations of the Force’s existence?”

Magic and mysticism held little appeal for the colonial captain. In their stead she harbored only cynicism. Critical thought was a vital process for any military mind, commander or grunt, it was absolutely pivotal and often meant the difference between life and death, success or failure. For those few ascending the ranks of command and structure this mandated pessimism became a way of life – one could not accept all things at face value and even tried-and-true facts could be questioned. Abstract thinking, deductive reasoning and observational logic… these were fundamental precepts for the likes of d’Foose.

So, when her captor and host unveiled his flashlight-made-sword and subsequently caused it to hover in the space between them it was only natural for her to assume trickery. Gravity plating was not unknown, technology which could manipulate the forces of attraction even within a preexisting field. Nor was laser technology by any means new to the line captain. Everything she saw could otherwise be explained without the application of wizardry, without the force.

What remained, however; was her doubt spawned from feelings, emotions to which she had not previously been exposed to. There were the dreams and visions which no doctor could adequately quantify. Also there were the tremors and most recently the feeling of invasion which, though possibly mistaken, seemed to her to emanate from Ravenna. These things were harder to explain away.

Just the same her condition and state of mind prevented her making any conclusions she could trust, as, cutting through the bullshit she knew that of late she had been unable to trust her own judgment. What had it gotten her so far? An addiction to sleeping pills for sleep and pep pills to keep up. A lingering resentment…

Her track record of late was not remarkable.

For a moment she found herself wondering what it could hurt to trust this man and his proclamations that she was some sort of witch, found herself contemplating how easy it would be to just stop fighting and give in. The moment passed as quickly as it had come with the conclusion that giving in was tantamount to giving up and that was simply not her way.

Even if he could be trusted and in her experience d’Foose had yet to come across a single confederate, citizen or otherwise, with malicious intentions, the risk presented by compliance was an unknown factor as she had no real formative comprehension of their ambitions, merciful, ambivalent or apathetic. If his words were to be trusted, if she did infact possess some connection to that mythic field dubbed the force, then what were his intentions and who was he speaking for? Here d’Foose found her knowledge of the force and those who wielded it insufficient. She knew not the ways of the Sith, or the Jedi for that matter save what she gleaned from the holo-dramas of her youth and that, she supposed, presented a very skewed perspective more media friendly then factually accommodating. But if he was lying…

In the space of a few seconds d’Foose considered these things deciding that she still did not know enough to go either way. Supposing that playing dumb would garner her the most information she opted to continue along those lines.

Her acumen in dealing with unknown values, a precedent that prevailed throughout the colonies in terms of fleet action, was to advance with extreme caution being only provocative enough to cajole the unknown in to revealing key bits of information about itself while eluding the same fate herself. Parsimonious with her own revelations the object would be to detect as much as possible within a short period of time such that was sufficient to develop a plan of response action before a potential enemy and failing that to at least establish moiety.

The situational elements, disparate or equitable, had yet to be discovered or by other means revealed to the navy woman. Pursuing their detection would have been, she believed, easier had her mind not been in such a markedly hazy state, the after-effects of barbiturates still plaguing her every move.

She smiled, disarmingly.

“Assuming I believe you,” she made an off hand gesture to the still floating sword before continuing in a semi-sarcastic tone of voice, “what could your possible intentions be? Allowing myself to believe you, what are your desires?”

But, before an answer could be forthcoming, she persisted.

Standing, hands clasped neatly at the small of her back in perfect military pose, she took a few steps towards the windows gazing at her reflection as she spoke, “Regardless, I am a naval commander plagued by a condition our doctors have been unable to diagnose to my satisfaction. Whatever plots may affect my destiny, you a part or an innocent pawn, it is my desire to have this affectation remedied so I may retake my post aboard my ship, within my fleet. To which end, if you are speaking honestly, I require assistance and you, again reliant on your truthful testimony, being a vassal of this supposed Force, may represent a means to an end.”

Here she turned and leaned against the same glass that had held her sunken reflection, and feeling but a shell of herself at that reminder, slumped visibly. “You have not restrained me, but have taken me captive. Now you present yourself before me without visible defense against an attack which lends a level of credibility to your claim…”

“With or without trust, the odds and logic seem to be in your favor so,” d’Foose paused momentarily, gauging the man for response. When he failed to fill the void, clearly observant enough of her behavior to see she was not finished, she pressed on. “Where do we go from here?”

At the very least she guessed she was in for a guided tour of Solace. At the most, however; she dared not guess.




Her father and his friend, the bearded man in his flowing robes, stood on the lawn taking in the early morning sun. The dew was still wet on the grass and their boots picked up the damp as they walked along the neatly trimmed rows.

The general and his friend had been up the whole of the night, talking and reminiscing. Sometime in the early dawn hours her father had found the sleeping girl perched atop the stairs having refused her bed. She slumbered now, exhausted. The two had joked at her persistence. With the dawning of the day they had moved out side, the other man making preparations to depart. Slung over his shoulder was a duffle and as they walked they neared a shuttle perched on the lawn a short distance off.

“I wish I could change your mind,” spoke the Jedi.

Laughing, the general shot back, “Jedi make wishes, do they?”

They shared the moment, smirking at one another, before the man in the brown robes spoke again.

He said, “The force will find a way, it always does.”

Adding, “It may not be today, or tomorrow but some how it will find a way. I just pray, my friend, that you will live to see that day. Your daughter has a talent that needs to nurtured and developed. I fear what may happen if it goes untrained in the years ahead.”

“I fear the years ahead as well,” matched the uniformed one. “But for different reasons and I do hope you are right, one day. Not this day however.”

Boarding his shuttle, the Jedi spared on last lingering embrace with his long time friend. “I hope the day for peace comes soon my friend, I hope we both live to see it, too see your children grow up and become the people they are fated to be.”

“As do I,” replied the general. “As do I.”

And for a long time he stood, watching the shuttle lift off and vanish in to the clouds high above before adding to himself, “But I think that is a future for them… not for us.”

Adrian fought the urge to jerk his head back as the woman talked; the urge to flinch; the urge to crinkle his face as she spoke. She’s like an ill-tempered acklay in a tauntaun’s skin. The Susevfian vaguely recalled his own experience of being introduced to the Force. His lip twitched. Of course, that was a bit different. I discovered it for myself, and then had it introduced to me as the Force. This woman has apparently had no experience with it…which is rare…usually there is something unusual with them; superior, unexplained athletic abilities…an extradionary amount of luck. If she hasn’t noticed something, perhaps her connection to the Force has been deadened…or she’s more likely explained any connection to it away in her own mind…but the Force is life…and life isn’t an easy matter. She knows life; she’s been through more of it than me. Perhaps she’s lived through so much of it that she’s began to fall into frustration and cynicism, and thus…into misery. There’s only one way to rise above that cynicism according to the Saarai-kaar…and that is to embrace a grand idea. To do so is to rise above the weakness of humanity; to rise over perfidy and baseness. To ascend to a new level by realizing the full extent of who and what you can be. So how do I do it with you, d’Foose? If you will not acknowledge who you are, you will have to discover it; just like me.

As the Gestalt officer’s monologue ended, Ravenna tabbed a button on his lightsaber. The cobalt blade retracted into the bronzed hilt of his weapon. Adrian slid the weapon into it's place on his utility belt. His emerald eyes stared down at the woman in a mixture of frustration and annoyance; he briefly considered the idea of memory-altering drugs. She could then live her life without ever having to deal with its consequences, and my life would be a lot simpler. But to do so would be to deny a great truth; to squash a bud of light in a galaxy which is increasing falling into darkness.

“Where do we go from here?”

Adrian considered the question. “Well, the reason for your visit is a rare one; most people can’t simply come to Kashan for vacation…you must have the backing of a rather powerful figure within the Confederation to come here, most likely Lucerne or Thorn…which means that I’m obliged to let you continue your visit…but it will have to be under CSIS supervision because of our laws. So my question to you is where do you want to go from here? Your itinerary says that Solace is your intended destination. If you want, I can arrange for a landspeeder to take us there...”

As the landscape shot past her window, mountains, forests and lakes moving by near the speed of sound, d’Foose sat silent in her seat seeming not to notice the beautiful scenery en route to Solstice. Her host and escort, Adrian Ravenna, had arranged the sight-seeing tour though it utterly failed to phase her. In truth she was too consumed by her own thoughts.

The younger man seemed to recognize her distant stare and so left her to her quiet contemplation for the majority of the ride. He had insisted she not be further inconvenienced, perhaps understanding her aversion to detention without prescription and so she was free of restraints, free of the watchful eyes of the guard troop, and beginning to feel easier about her situation. Just the same, something, some small voice in the rear of her mind warned her that the man was not one to be trifled with, that he represented an entrusted security net around the colonial officer… for their safety and hers.

A communiqué had been relayed to Ravenna shortly after their meeting and judging by his reaction it must have come from the upper echelons of command, either his or hers. What it said, exactly, remained a mystery to her but all the same the tone of their relationship had changed visibly.

They had departed Camp Shipwright there-after with a planned destination of Solstice proper but their route had been a meandering one, giving both parties time to reflect which, she correctly guessed, was aimed at her comfort more then his. She had to admit that in his presence the tremors, the waking dreams, had all but abated for she did not feel even the shadows of their presence lurking.

For a long time they were silent, words unspoken and looks rarely exchanged and for her part d’Foose had used the time to dredge up every memory or recollection she had of the force, of the Jedi and the Sith. Much of it was mundane, common knowledge and rumor about the great figures of the past, names that had lived on in myth and infamy such as Skywalker, Yoda, Palpatine among others. But of all these events none connected directly to her, they were like history lessons from grade school – disjointed. And then, with some measure of shock, another name came to the forefront; a name and a face she had all but dismissed.

Irtar Mal’Gro.

She recalled him from the earliest days of the colonies. An ambassador sent to investigate the goings-on of one Lance Story Shipwright on behalf of the Coalition of Planets; it was not until his departure that she had been informed of his Jedi status. The man had made an impression on her not as a wielder of the force but as a politician and a liar. He had, in his very short time among the colonials, made it his business to sneak and snoop out the secrets of her commander, Shipwright. In turn, caught in the act, he had left their system shortly there-after. It was then that Lance Shipwright had informed her; Irtar Mal’Gro was a Jedi apprentice. She had not entirely believed it. Whether due his bumbling attempt to evade detection or his inability to manipulate her and those around her he did not fit her understanding of what a Jedi was.

She realized at that moment, while passing a crystal blue lake hemmed in by rolling hills, that she really didn’t know anything about the Force and that her comments, dismissive and hurtful, may have stung the man who, to all appearances, was only trying to help.

She spoke then. She said, “I’m sorry.”

Adrian Ravenna stirred, turning his even, appraising eyes towards her. He offered, “Hmmm?”

“For what I said,” she admitted, turning to match his gaze with her own. “I did not mean to be abrasive, to hurt or offend. It’s just…”

“I’ve been off of my game lately,” she found herself babbling, comforted by the depth of those eyes and the soft, attractive features that studied her in kind. “These dreams, these nightmares that come to me… I don’t remember the last time I slept, really slept.”

Ravenna cocked a brow, “What dreams?”

Opening the flood gates, she confessed her visions to him in detail realizing as she spoke that she had been projecting her own fears on to him, assuming he knew the details, painting him as a part of some paranoid plot against her. But as she went on, detailing the tremors that shook her room late at night, d’Foose believed she detected a genuine concern lurking behind his calm and collected visage and it encouraged her all the more.

Perhaps she had been alone too long. In truth the last man to show her any affection had been the Vice Commodore, and even his affections were tempered by his position within the colonies and his ever calculating mind. He had not been able to provide her with the kind of devotion she longed for and so, as both came to an understanding, had unconsciously given up on the hope for companionship, true and lasting. As events in her own life began to fall apart he, Lance, was no where to be found and even her doctors, who feigned concern in that professional manner that all do, could not assuage her concerns or comfort her.

But here, sitting across from her in the confines of a land-speeder, was a man who listened as she spoke showing, conveying a clear concern for her state of mind, her well being. Professional? Maybe, but even so, in his professional capacity as manipulator of the mystic energies, he actually seemed to care and it was not until she had finished speaking, falling abruptly quiet for catching herself so open, that he explained why.

“The force,” he said, “has many aspects. Fear and anger are paths to one aspect of the force, some call it the dark side.”

Then she understood his concern, or the root of it. He worried for her that she might succumb to it, fall. In that moment she decided to trust him with regards to the force and to believe him that she too had become, was always, a part of it.

“How do I stop it?” Her voice cracked and broke as she asked.

He smiled and answered, “We train you, we give you the tools you need to stop it for yourself.”

To be rid of the visions, or to understand them and deal with them, was something worth working for.

“When do we start?” She asked.

Redoubling his smile, almost a knowing smirk, he said, “We already have.”

The temperate forest and its sea of emerald trees gave way to the gleaming urbanity of the Kashan capitol city of Solace. A brief glare paralysed the man’s eyes as the golden sun beat down on the clusters of skyscrapers clad in gleaming Mirrsteel. While according to Lucerne, the skyscrapers were physical manifestations of the Kashan concept of blending beauty and functionality, the Jensaarai found the buildings an odd combination of starkness and arrogance in the heat of the day; his perspective. But as he stared at the buildings, now glinting brilliantly in the sun, Ravenna could see why others thought them the embodiment of the Kashan ideal. In some respects, he realized that he too would be trying to blend both beauty and functionality soon; and as he realized it, his respect for the Kashan architects grew. Adrian spared a glance at the woman traveling next to him, and just as quickly stared back at the city.

But my art will not be with metals and stones. But rather flesh and thought. Teaching you, d’Foose, will be an art all and in itself. And how to go about doing that? I could try and ingrain everything I know into you like a drill instructor; a practical despot; but that leads to a few options for who you will become: an absolutely mindless drone who doesn’t think for herself, or someone who is constantly struggling to prove yourself to me and others. And that leads to the aggression, in which case my work would be in vain. Actually, in either case, it would be in vain.

And yet, doing the exact opposite is just as ruinous. If I give you a lot of freedom in you training, let you fool around, what will you accomplish? Who would direct your efforts and enforce the discipline when you grow weak. No, there is only one way. That is the way of the Jedi with their older apprentices; the way adopted by the Jensaarai from the time of their conception. That is to train in between these extremes in a semi-democratic environment. Giving you choice to a degree in what we study; and how we study, yet at the same time, use the little experience I have gained and the wisdom of the Saarai-kaar to guide us…you to your destiny. Maybe even to your greatness. The hover train slowed to a stop in the middle of the terminal. He turned to the Colonial officer.

“This appears to be our stop. What’s first on your agenda?”

That day, she admitted, had gone rather well for both parties.

For her part, d’Foose had been treated to an unparalleled tour of the city and inauguration in the ways of the force while for his Ravenna had been able to garner a deeper understanding of the woman in his charge. Neither spoke much initially, save for petty admissions of beauty or awe regarding the city itself, or to share light-hearted commentaries on the nature of life… and of the force.

Life in Solace was, much to her surprise, not unlike the day to day for citizens of the colonies which is to say; ordered, peaceful and above all, with a unifying logic as guide. It was amazing to her that two separate societies could evolve such similar patterns of existence without shared templates or models for advancement. Progress, physical and spiritual, was evident throughout which left d’Foose feeling an innate connection to these people, to this place. All in all it was an enjoyable adventure thus far. Though she longed for the comfort of home, the smell of boot polish and freshly pressed uniforms, she did not immediately miss her place on the bridge, in command, in the routine and file of the colonial defenses. She had joked at one moment during their travels that due its size and relative location the colonies could almost seem a province of the confederation but for their fierce independence. Ravenna had countered saying that the isolationist methodology of the colonials further prevented that vision, but conceded it was a somewhat plausible dream. For a few tense seconds the pair seemed on the verge of debate but it did not come to pass.

It went like that for most of the day.

Evening caught the duo wandering the streets of Solace along a boulevard ringed by trees, grass and ponds. The park, its name escaping her, was a welcome relief after the hours of strolling amongst towering structures scraping the sky, mingling with the urbanized citizenry. Her host had suggested they pause here and so they had.

What followed did not catch d’Foose unarmed, such that she had almost been expecting it and welcomed the experience. Here, sitting on the grass of a rolling hill looking upon a placid pond with its avian stock and the distant sun sinking behind the horizon, Ravenna had started telling d’Foose about the force. She listened. She listened like she had not listened to anything since she was a childhood and found herself reflecting on the man who had been her fathers friend so long ago. Ravenna did not speak in matters of fact much as she had expected Jedi and the like to do when revealing the ways of the mystic but rather in a subjective, deeply personal fashion. Much of what he revealed seemed at odds to her, or at least at odds to her own preconceptions. Everything he said, however; was met with a kindred sense of belonging that tended to echo what d’Foose had long believed to be true but had suppressed as the years wore on and room for fantasy slowly dwindled.

As they talked time wore on between Ravenna explaining the force in layman’s terms and d’Foose own confessions of a lacking comprehension until the sun was good and truly behind the horizon. A blanket of stars, brilliant white points of light filling the heavens, looked down upon them, teacher and student. Ravenna, noting the time, had asked if she wanted anything to eat before calling the day quits. She was not hungry in the least and it was not until she voiced this that she realized; not once had her visions plagued her nor lurked at the edges of her awareness. More, she was honestly tired, not exhausted but tired.

Accordingly Ravenna had taken her to her hotel, a swanky, up-scale establishment, and wished her a good nights sleep warning that morning would come early. She didn’t care. Minuets later she was asleep, sound asleep, and loving every moment of it.


Long ago...

The child, the young girl in her nightgown tucked in to her bed, slept. Or pretended to. Her fathers friend had just arrived, her mother having hurried her off to bed. She knew the man, he was like an uncle to her, a fixture in her life as with the rest of the family, so much so she took him for granted and her young mind, too young to ingrain deeply the images and emotions attached, did likewise.

He stood, looking over her apparently sleeping form gazing upon her with eyes that saw through the illusion. Her father was there as well but distant, a hazy figure outlined in the hallway light his impressive figure waiting in the doorway. She could smell the smoke from his pipe as it wafted away from her room, tendrils of the sweet aroma reaching her nostrils.

“The force flows through us,” the man in robes and of bearded face was saying. “The force connects us, unites us.”

He went on but her childlike sensibilities were distracted by the smell of her fathers pipe, the soothing voice of his friend, her uncle by all but blood, and the game of pretending to be asleep while they spoke.







In her bed, d’Foose slept the sound, deep sleep of youth. And while she slept she dreamed of memories long forgotten.

Two doors down from where d’Foose quietly slept, Adrian flashed his keycard into a lock, and marched into the room, with his duffel slung on his back. The room’s lights flickered on, and the scent of some nameless lemon-scented freshner or cleaning product pervaded the air. He shut the door behind him, and habitually reached to unfasten the straps to his breastplate. And then realized; he wasn’t wearing his trademark black and grey battle armor, but rather tourist clothing provided by the local CSIS office. His hand dropped to his side, and the man wistfully shook his head. I’ve truly been spending so much time in the field or at the Academy to remember what it is to be a civilian. When was the last time I played bludgerball? Geez…it’s had to have been roughly a half year. The Susevfian shook his head again. Is it really so easy to get caught up into galactic affairs and the mysticism of the Force so easily? A ping from the room’s communication’s jarred him out of his reverie. The Jensaarai dropped his bag to the floor, and paced over to the flatscreen monitor. He tapped a button, and out of the black screen, a familiar face among the opulent settings of Atlas Hall engendered itself.

“Mr. Ravenna,” bowed the Rear-Admiral.

“Rear-Admiral, sir,” saluted Ravenna sharply.

The two stared at each other in silence for several awkward seconds, before Corise wryly shook his head.

“Not to trouble you or…babysit you, but I am rather curious about a certain d’Foose who is visiting. I’ve read the brief reports that Howe sent, but I’d to hear from the source itself. This is a matter of some political delicacy. What is her status?”

Adrian slight fidgeted. “I think that she is slowly getting use to the idea of being Force-sensitive, but she is not fully awakened, or maybe the word is realized. It might be some weeks before she will be ready enough to embrace her destiny.”

“I am not so sure we have a few weeks,” sighed Lucerne, “we can’t exactly detain a foreign officer of a friendly power for the purposes of training, and I doubt that the Gestalt Colonies are going to order one of their premier officers to stay around and train as a Jensaarai.”

“But would they resist her own wishes if she wanted to do so?”

Corise shrugged, “I am not sure; this is rather an event that will set some sort of precedence if she decides to do so. I cannot really see the Vice-Commodore objecting though if she decides to make that sort of request. For he will probably at least want to make her seem like she has some freedom, and a trained Jed…Jensaarai would probably be viewed as at least an asset to the Colonies. If she does not stay though…”

Ravenna nodded in term. “She could become a threat not to us, but to her adopted nation, and our friends.”

“And quite possibly ourselves,” added the Kashan man, “the Confederation does have a relationship with the Colonies, as you well know. It is my sincere hope Adrian that you will at least be able to persuade her to stay. I myself will shortly be calling the Vice-Commodore and requesting for her to stay as well.”

“Yes sir.”

“Let us hope then that we can think of something very, very good to persuade them.”

“Isn’t that the Pro-Consul’s job?”

Corise paused. “Yes…yes it is. But she’s gallivanting across the Meridian Sector, and I doubt she’d have the time for the two of them…Goodbye Ravenna, and good luck.”

“Good night sir.”

The flatscreen flickered off, and Adrian sauntered over to the oversized bed. He hovered over the bed, and plummeted into the layers of fabric. And here what I thought would be sort of a vacation has turned into a twisted diplomacy. I need a vacation…I need to get out of these galactic affairs mess…He blinked. That’s it. That’s how I solve these problems. I’m taking d’Foose on a vacation: to the woods…camping. A chance to get away from everything, and a chance for her to get in touch with natural life; for that is the Force. And a chance for me to get a little relaxation from galactic affairs. I’ll break her the news tomorrow at breakfast. But for now sleep…