Theed

In the cool dampness of the early morning, as the first subtle hints of sunrise began to appear in the Nubian Sky, different commercial transport ships begin dropping out of hyperspace and beginning their initial approach into the main city of the small, pristine planet. One of the earliest arrivals, the Gormanack, had already begun unloading cargo and passengers. It was peaceful that time of the day; the streets were for the most part empty with very little ship activity. Of Course, like in all peaceful settings, something is always waiting to interrupt.

Stepping off of the transport, his mind flashed back to his first arrival on Naboo, however the current time of day was early evening rather than the previous trip. The city of Theed itself hadn't changed a bit from the first time he had set foot upon its surface. However he did feel fortunate not to have returned in the unkind grasp of a gigantic thug, the thug’s boss and a few more of his associates.

"I'm gonna turn you into Bantha Fodder Zo...”

The behemoth was cut off as he lifted the motionless man from the ground.

"..Not yet Dem."

This voice belonged to the last person joining the party. An Eriaduian under-boss for a moderately successful underground crime syndicate named Jon'namin Sholemiskie.

"I want this ingrate to suffer before we dispose of him."

He moved down the ramp, strutting as if time was of no importance, one you'd expect out of a death-star commander or something.

Zolar grinned at the thought, of Jon'namin and the way he so presumptuously strolled down the exit ramp.

"How in control he must have thought he was," Marek commented internally. "Well, he certainly discovered otherwise didn’t he."

"You've been a constant thorn in my side Zolar. You've stolen more shipments than anyone has right too."

Now standing before the ((when at the time appeared to be a)) hopeless man, he continued his lecture.

"You almost got away with it, but you got greedy..."

Being held up by his arms, Marek received a jolt of pain, as the under-boss sent a back-hand across his face. The force of the blow almost made his head turn a hundred and eighty degree's.

"I should have killed him just for that," commenting once more.

"What? Nothing to Say? Speechless? That would be a first you...”
He punched him in the gut, "Cocky...” hit him again "No Good...” one final jab "piece of jurin."

Marek re-called being dropped to the ground after the barrage of stiff blows, but relished in the fact that the best was yet to come.

"Well Marek, have you nothing to say? Jon'namin questioned. “Your going to die Marek, you have no last words before your given your last rites? He paused, "Very well then, meet oblivion..."

After enduring that kind of beating, including all the activities that had taken place before his uncomplimentary unloading from the transport, the only verbal comment he could muster was...

"...looks can be deceiving..."

Marek blushed a bit. Though he replayed the moment only in his mind and had refrained from actually verbalizing any of his thoughts or critiques, he felt as though everyone around him, mainly the travelers disembarking the shuttle could hear everything that was going on within his memory. He even criticized his choice of words, "...looks can be deceiving..." mocking himself "That was really threatening..." But, all and all after it was all said and done with, no one on this particular landing pad could've heard or seen his thoughts except him.

Had this been even a month ago, Jon'namin would be dead. But Marek wasn't the same man he once was.

"This is what's going to happen Namin, you’re going to get back on board the transport and you’re going to leave. Tell your bosses that when you found me, I was already dead."

"Ok...”

"It's very important that you do what I say, because if they try and send anyone after me, I'm gonna kill them and then I'm gonna come looking for you, got me?"

"Uh…Yeah…Sure Zolar anything you want."

"Leave then, now"

Sholemiskie did an about face and almost ran up the ramp of the transport, a big change than his Tarkin-esque trot from earlier.
Marek let the blaster fall to his side, his fingers still clinched around its handle. His right eye was a little swollen, a departing gift from the behemoth before he was tossed out of the ship along with a burning cheek, a result from the back-hand no less.

"What did I ever see in this kind of life?" he questioned himself as he moved away from the space dock, he dropped the blaster into a open crate of spare hyper drive parts that sat unattended near the edge of the landing strip.

"Still think I should have killed him," once again mentally speaking to himself.

But cherished as that memory may have been for Marek; for reasons unknown, it was time to focus on the task at hand. Over the course of his latest adventures across the galaxy, he had felt a strange pull to return to Naboo. Marek just assumed it was the force willing him to resolve some unfinished business. As he would eventually discover, it was something far worse he was being led back to face.

But as it was, fate would take a back seat at the current moment, especially when after taking his fond memory into account, Marek could think of no better way than to signify his return to his former Jedi home, then to have a drink at his favorite watering hole.

The Imperial sat silent for a moment, perplexed. A Queen had prostrated herself before a superior military force, all but surrendering before a shot was fired. There were a dozen contingencies that had been planned for - the bloodless acquisition of Naboo was not one of them.


" It's a trap," intoned the black-haired Grand Inquisitor, looking through squinted eyes at the blue-green orb beyond the battleship's bow. Baron Desaria did not even spare a glance in acknolwedgement, the other man's statement merely a reiteration of reality.


Of course it's a trap, but a trap for whom? They would not dare tempt the Fleet for ny treachery would bring fire and death down on every city on that planet. Perhaps for the Sith, then, to lure them onto the surface then release their Jedi armies on them? But that too would result in an orbital bombardment the likes of which they have never seen. Truly I am confused.


The Grand Admiral wiped a gloved hand across his lips. He commanded the tactical annexation of this world but the operation itself was not in his control. The Nabooians would have to wait to surrender.


" We shall defer to the Sith Lord - we are here to aide their needs so they will make the decision as to what happens next."


Quiet replies of confirmation slipped into the steady humm of bridge activities as the Queen's message was relayed to Lord Darksword for his musing pleasure. The Grand Admiral had won the war without ever fighting a battle.


No, that is untrue. This battle has not even begun yet.

Lupercus couldn't help but smile at the list of names his apprentice rattled off indicating his prior 'occupational history', but his deaths head smirk grew large at the mention of a ground war with the coalition.

"Well, we can only hope so, can't we? No better way to practice the art of killing than on something that tries its hardest, but cannot really defend itself."

It was just as he finished speaking that their journeyman commander relayed to the Sith the message they had just received.

"Most noble officer of the Empire. Greetings, on behalf of the sovereign of Naboo.

"I can only wonder as to your purpose, arriving at the edge of our space with ships of war, and without explination. Alas, I fear I know the reason, which is why I write to you to ask for clemency. We have no quarrel with the Empire and have no means of resistance. We have committed no crimes against your nation and hope that this will be reflected in our treatment by you.

"In fact, the only thing that I could imagine would draw your eyes to Naboo and cause the Empire to attack without warning would be if your intent were to catch someone by surprise, corner them before they can escape. I promise you, even the Jedi whom you hunt are long gone from this place - there are no Masters of the Force left on Naboo, only a few children with little instruction and no power or influence.

"With this in mind I hope we can come to some sort of peaceful arrangement or agreement to avoid unnecessary violence or hardship. Sincerely, Queen Carlotta of the Naboo."

Shaking his head in disgust at their lack of capacity for defending themselves, Lupercus immediately communicated with his compatriot on the bridge.

"Die Scheißekopf Untermenschen." With his blood up though, he couldn't help but revert back to basic as he continued. "Move ships into close orbit blockading positions and launch invasion, or perhaps based off that pathetic message, 'occupation' forces. Anyone seen with a weapon is to be engaged as if they are an enemy, for we cannot have any risk taken to your troops."

The Sith paused now, peering out towards the direction of Naboo as if he could see through the hundreds of bulkheads that blocked his line of site, focusing in on the planet through the force.

"They are obviously lying about the Jedi, so we shall lie to them. Send them no reply."

Deactivating the comlink, Lupercus turned now back to his apprentice.

"Shall we go and find yourself some death...?"

He knew he needn't wait for a response, immediately about facing and begining the short walk to his luxury yacht.

The Grand Admiral stood at the foremost point of the bridge and looked down at Naboo, his eyes narrowed as if trying to pierce the distance and clouds protecting the surface from his gaze.


A pity they did not fight; perhaps there would have been some honour to be had this day. How can a world surrender so easily? To acquiesce after a test of martial skills I understand and respect, but to never have tried? I simply cannot fathom such an end.


The Dominion rumbled slightly as her mighty engines pulled against the gravity of a nearby moon, slowing her to a graceful stop in orbit. A pair of Inquisitoriate Destroyers hung off each haunch, waiting to be unleashed. Three more moved off, carrying crews of inspection and control to the intact defense fleet. Civilian traffic had all but halted, scurrying from the warships as fast as their propulsion systems could move them. In the vacuum, the Empire was alone, free to do as it wished.


" Grand Admiral, General der Inquisition Heydrich is requesting permission to launch the transports."


Baron Desaria nodded in slow assent, knowing full well what fate awaited those who refused to cooperate in the dual roles of the red-clad infantry: conquest and the eradiction of the Jedi threat. " He may start his landing."


With that, the Grand Admiral turned from Naboo and with long, deliberate strides moved to an aft plot table. At his back, a flurry of transports and fighters descended.


The Empire - and the Sith - were coming to relcaim Naboo.

Memories lost and found.


Trials and tribulations.


The Lightside. The Darkside.



In a single explosion of life everything seemed to come together at once, and then burst outward. His eyes flew open. The pigment shifted from blue to silver and finally the color of his eyes intermingled and evaporated, leaving only white. His mouth open, and he gasped. His chest rose and fell in long, quick gulps of air, as if he had been deprived of oxygen for some length of time.

Had he? So many thoughts and memories rushed through his mind all at once that he couldn’t focus on where he was or how he had gotten to be here. His head pounded with all of the shit flying through it, and his face twinged into a wince. His white, colorless eyes blinked several times, attempting to clear his mind of the clutter and the pain.

Naboo. He knew he was on Naboo. For the life of him, he didn’t know how he knew or how he had gotten here, but something in his mind had leapt up and affirmed his location to be the seat of the Jedi Temple. Or, former seat. He remembered reading about it on the holonet…when had he read it? Nothing fit. The memories were there, but they were all screwed up like a jigsaw puzzle, and he couldn’t think.

As he sat up, one fact became abundantly apparent. He was naked. The ground was cold against his bare buttocks, and glancing around briefly he realized he was indoors. And something familiar about the place too…he wasn’t sure if it was the overwhelming sense of security that filled him or simply the décor that tipped him off at least but finally he realized his location in more precise terms. The Temple.

He was in one of the meditation chambers, one of many secluded sections within the Temple where Jedi young and old could go to ask questions or search for answers, or merely relax and…in some cases to an extent greater (mostly with the younger Jedi) than recommended…rest.

The brown stone walls were a giveaway. The Temple had been around for a very long time, before there were even Jedi on Naboo, and in some parts the foundation had been preserved more fully than others. The stone was much more natural and comforting than the cold duracrete that made up most of the building’s structure.

Pawing at the ground in the dark, he found a grip and pushed himself up to his feet. His whole body ached numbly as if he had just woken up the day after a particularly strenuous workout. Flexing his muscles and stretching his extremities a bit, he surveyed the room further. It was bare, except for the stone walls, a few windows, the mats and…in the far corner a full length mirror.

Slowly, cautiously, he approached it. It shimmered faintly in the darkness, giving off a sort of half-light. Just enough to be able to see the outline of something, but not much. He squinted hard, desperately attempting to see his reflection. And then, as Naboo’s moon slowly filtered through one of the windows behind him, likely having passed by some cloud, he saw himself. He saw himself. Not the body of that damned Dark Jedi, but his own.

For the first time in a long time, Arix Askrima saw his own reflection.





He had broken into a closet in the Temple’s laundry. Out of it he had managed to find a tunic, some pants, and an old brown robe that fit him. Gazing at himself in another mirror he had found, he marveled at how much his reflection looked like a Jedi.

It was no secret within the Order that the Jedi look depended much on mystery and an overwhelming presence of wisdom. While the power of the Jedi was in itself a very powerful tool in dealing with the Order’s tasks, exploiting their legend went a long way as well. And looking in the mirror, especially with the hood up, Zark felt every bit as mysterious as the most powerful of Jedi Masters.

And for the first time in a long time, he actually felt like a Jedi himself.

His memory was still…he didn’t know what. But he was adapting quickly to the sensation, recalling memories without trying to place them in any timeline. As long as he assured himself he really did remember something or only casually thought of a memory in association with something else, he could summon them up. But as soon as he concentrated and really tried to remember, they scattered into the dark recesses of his mind.

Now he walked the empty halls of the Temple, and an overwhelming sense of abandonment filled him. He could tell they were gone in so many ways. The silence, for one. Even in its days of prosperity, the Temple had been a quiet place. But right now, it was like a graveyard. Like a graveyard…

But overshadowing all of the other ways he could tell, all of the familiar things gone, there was the overwhelming feeling in the Force. He could still feel the lightside within the Temple, but it was fainter now. Not so powerful as it had been when the Order was bustling with activity. The individual signatures were gone, replaced by a dull sense of their memory. Basically, it was the Force equivalent of a giant “The Order Was Here” sign written on the walls.

The Order was here…

And now it was gone.





For a long time he stood there, staring at those large double doors. They were stone, riddled with ornate carvings, extremely intimidating. The doors gave off the unmistaken able impression that whatever was kept behind them was pretty damn important. Few Jedi had ever passed through them with no sense of foreboding or anxiety. And that was saying a lot for Jedi. Fewer still had ever passed through them with any regularity.

For behind those stone doors lied the chambers of the Jedi Council, the seat of the Jedi in the galaxy.

Once upon a time…

But no longer.

Slowly, Zark’s trembling hands reached out and pushed the doors open. A brief vision struck him as the gazed into the room beyond. The council chambers, filled with the leaders of the Order, staring down and ready to judge young Zark Ekan, to see if he was fit to become a Jedi Knight.

Jedi Master Leia Organa Solo…Jedi Master Dee Tee Gee…Jedi Amalia, his old master…and the others, faces he could not put names too, faces shrouded in the darkness of a fading memory…

There they sat, waiting to judge him. But this had all been a very long time ago…they were gone now. They had all either died or disappeared or faded into obscurity. And when Zark looked again they really were gone. All except for one…

Standing behind her old seat, the one she had held for so long within the Jedi Council, Leia Organa Solo gazed at him with those same piercing eyes that had gazed at him all those long years ago when he had approached the Council for his Trials.

“Hello, Zark,” she said.

An open mouth, a dry mouth, a gaping mouth. A mouth unable to speak, until finally…

“Hi,” he managed meekly, after a good half a minute of struggling.

She smiled, her expression disarming, but Zark still felt an immense feeling of power and authority emanating from her person. The sort of feeling that said ‘I could kill you in a second and I’d be perfectly justified in doing so.’ Zark wondered how many Sith had gotten that feeling right before she had struck them down on the battlefield. How many Imperials, Vong, countless other nameless foes?

“Too many to remember, I’m afraid…” she answered his silent questions, “I’d like to say I could remember them all, but when you’re catapulted to a state of my…notoriety…you get so many wannabe Sith Lords and greedy Imperial Warlords taking potshots at you that…well, the faces blur…”

Zark knew what she meant. The disjointed memories rushed back to greet him…half remembered faces…corpse upon corpse…could he even say the majority of them were dispatched in a way acceptable of a Jedi? No, of course not. The number of innocents ran too high, their blood ran too thick. He winced at the memories…at the thoughts they beckoned.

He had not been living the life of a Jedi…for a long time.

Suddenly the robes he wore felt uncomfortable; he felt awkward in them. All at once he got an unshakable feeling that he didn’t belong in them; that to wear them in front of a Jedi Master, as he was now, was an insult. What had he been thinking? He was no Jedi. He had forfeited that right a long time ago…doomed never to return to the ranks of the Order…to the ranks of any Order. He was-

“Come now,” sounded a voice in his ear, and as it did he felt a hand rest upon his shoulder, its fingertips shooting a sensation throughout his body that kept him from whirling to face this unknown being. Slowly, he turned his head instead. There stood Leia. Glancing toward her seat, he found she was no longer there…no longer where she had been moments before, “That is not for you to decide. Step forward, and let those more experienced judge you.”

“Who-”

He turned back toward her seat, only to find her once again there. Sitting in it, this time…and she was not alone. Surrounding her, familiar faces from so long ago…lost in the mists of time. The old Gungan, General Ceel…Jedi Master Dee Tee Gee…his old master, Jedi Amalia…a single tear formed at the edge of his eye. He wiped it away quickly.

This was impossible. Not only was the Temple abandoned but…most of these Jedi had been dead for years. Dead or disappeared, as Jedi are oft to do when dark times rear their heads. Yet here they all were…sitting just as they had been sitting on the day of his Trials. Just as he remembered them…

“This isn’t real…” he whispered, “This can’t be real…”

“Can’t it?” asked Leia, “What makes you so sure? Death cannot stop the Jedi. Even in death we serve the Code.”

“I abandoned the Code long before I abandoned the Jedi, Master Solo,” Zark quipped, and immediately regretted opening his mouth. A fire blazed in the Jedi Master’s eyes, and for a moment he was half convinced she would strike him down on the spot. But instead, she simply grinned.

“You may have abandoned the Code, Zark,” her grin widened into a smile, “But it has never abandoned you.”

It was Zark’s eyes’ turn to blaze. A million biting retorts sprang to life in his throat and he struggled to push them back down. He struggled to remind himself that he was dealing with a Jedi Master, and that his own track record as of late was not exactly spotless. She had killed men for much less, Zark was sure.

“There will be no killing here tonight, Zark,” Leia said, and he was unsure if she had been reading his mind again or simply stating a fact, “I think you will agree that there has been more than enough of that. You are here to be judged. No more, no less.”

“Judged?” Zark echoed, as if re familiarizing himself with the word. He gave a small smirk, but there was no mirth in it, “There is no…” he faltered, “there is no punishment fitting enough for my crimes.”

“Let us decide that,” Leia gave him a small smile, a token expression of comfort, “Have you any last words or shall we begin?”

He would have chuckled at that if he had not been only half sure she was joking.

“Judge me, then,” his shoulders sagged, as if relaxing after an eternity of tensing, “I have little left to fear.”

“Kneel,” the Jedi Master commanded.

He did so.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Arix Askrima,” he recited, “Known officially to the New Republic, The Jedi Order, the Ossian Parliament, and the Naboo Security Force as Zark Ekan.”

“Name verified, Zark Ekan,” Leia nodded, “What is your rank?”

“I have none to speak of.”

“How very dejecting of you,” Leia smirked, but this time it reflected his own, without mirth, “Please state your official rank, as you last knew it.”

“Honorary Captain of the New Republic military,” Zark’s voice cracked, “Jedi Knight of the Order,” even further, “Rogue Jedi Knight of Ossus,” tears streamed from his face, “Apprentice to Rogue Jedi Master Searthen Jiren…”

“Identity verified. Zark Ekan, Jedi Knight,” her voice had lost all of its gentle calm, once again loud and commanding, “You are hereby under trial in a tribunal of your superiors, to be judged for your crimes. They are as follows…

Dereliction of duty.
Influence by the Dark Side.
Murder.
Mass murder.
Crimes against the Jedi Order.
Crimes against humanity.
Crimes against your own conscious.

How do you plead?”

The last of the tears had dried as Leia had read off the list. The Jedi Council of years past sat before him, staring.

“They have not said anything,” he whispered.

“They are not here to speak. They are here to listen,” Leia snipped in response, her voice harsh, “How do you plead?”

“You know how I plead, Master Solo,” Zark said, his voice almost a groan.

“Then say it!” she roared, “By the Force, take some responsibility for your actions and say it! The Force can only help you, it can’t do everything for you!”

“GUILTY!” Zark screamed, no longer on his knees but standing, his posture defiant, “I take responsibility every day! I remember every day! Even in death I cannot find solace! I want to be a Jedi again! I want to be good again! But I can’t! Now judge me, and send me back to oblivion where I belong so I may suffer in peace!”

But Leia did not respond in turn. Instead, all sense of harshness and anger was gone from her expression.

“The judged has pleaded guilty,” she spoke once again in her calm, commanding tone, “The Council will now convene and return with sentence.”

The minutes that followed were almost impossible for Zark to describe, even to himself. The figures of the council members blurred, almost as if he were watching a holovid that had been corrupted. Whispers filled the Council chamber, impossible to understand yet deafening and surrounding. Were these the voices of the dead?

And then, just as quickly as they had blurred, each figure snapped back into focus at the same time. All of them stared down at him once more; none of their expressions had changed. Master Solo remained the only one who showed any signs of movement and any change in expression. She stared down at him, her face grim.

“Jedi Knight Zark Ekan, you have been found guilty of all crimes by a tribunal of your superiors. After much deliberation, and taking into account your…unique situation, we have found a sentence that we believe to be most suitable for the crimes in question. Are you ready?”

“Kill me then,” Zark bowed his head, “And let it be done.”

“There was a time when the Force believed that to be the best course of action to take, Zark Ekan,” Leia nodded solemnly, “But it seems that there always arose a situation where you were needed, there always was and there always will be. The Force understands this now. No, your sentence is not death.”

“Then what?” Zark demanded, his voice harsh but cracking, “What possible torment in life could atone me for my crimes that I have not endured already?!”

“Zark Ekan, Jedi Knight,” Leia’s voice rose in power, “You are hereby sentenced to reinstatement into the Jedi Order.”

“You’re…readmitting me?” Zark was dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Leia smiled, “Welcome back, Jedi Ekan.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Zark shook his head, “Why?”

“What punishment would be more fitting than forcing you to serve the Order once more?” Leia grinned, “You said it yourself. You want to become a Jedi again. We are merely providing you with that opportunity. In your past, you have committed great crimes, both against others and against yourself. But…exceptions have been made in the past…and your case is especially unique, as it has been proven that death for you cannot provide suitable closure. It seems that the only way to truly provide closure for both you and the Force is for you to live out the remainder of your natural life doing what you se out to do in the beginning of your life. Protect and serve.”

“I…I don’t deserve this,” Zark managed.

“That is not for you to decide,” Leia glared at him, “Don’t forget who is in charge here. This is not a request, Jedi Ekan. This is an order. As for your skepticism…are you so quick to forget the circumstances surrounding Master Jiren’s inception into the Jedi Order? Remember, he was once a Sith who tortured and killed many, and yet we pardoned him. Look how he turned out.”

Dead. Zark could not help but think. Memories of the funeral resurfaced, and he winced.

“A symbol of justice and righteousness throughout the galaxy,” came a familiar voice behind him, “And don’t you forget that.”

Zark whirled around. It couldn’t be. His mind flashed back more fully to the funeral, to the moment on the hilltop. He had thought it would be the last time he would ever see his old tutor…his old friend. He had certainly told Zark so himself. But despite all of that, there he stood once more. His old tutor, and his second Master. Searthen “Gash” Jiren.

“And I thought so too, at the time,” Jiren grinned as he entered the council chambers, “I thought I had beaten all of this ‘questioning your worth’ out of you, as well. But you’re a stubborn one,” he stopped a few feet away from him, and smiled, “Its good to see you again, Zark.”

“I…Master,” Zark bowed his head in difference.

“Not for long,” the Rogue Jedi Master grinned, “At least, we hope so. Don’t we, Leia honey?”

Leia pursed her lips at this.

“Master Jiren will be the one conducting your Trial,” she explained to the very confused Knight, “Under our close supervision.”

“I hear you, I hear you!” he chortled, “I’m not gonna go easy on him, just because he was my apprentice.”

“That’s not what we were worried about,” Leia bit back.

“Ouch,” Jiren chuckled again.

“My trial?” Zark asked, “But…I thought that’s what this was?”

“Ah, you hadn’t gotten to that part yet?” Searthen asked.

“We were just getting there before you…made your entrance,” Leia narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well I had to defend my honor, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Zark cut in.

“The time has arisen once again for your Trials, Zark,” Leia smiled warmly at him, “It is time for you to take the next step in your understanding of the Force and your responsibilities to the Order. The Trials we speak of are those considering you for the rank of Jedi Master.”

“I…I definitely don’t deserve this…” Zark choked out, his surprise pushing him beyond the point of despondency.

“Previous transgressions and mistakes aside,” Leia said in a more commanding tone, “Ascension to the rank of Jedi Master does not require that you simply be a good Jedi and always do what you’re told for a predetermined amount of time. A Jedi learns more of the Force, forms a stronger bond with it, and achieves a higher level of enlightenment. Then, and only then, are they ready to take on the moniker of Master.

Regardless of the way in which you have developed yourself,” she pursed her lips, and Zark winced, “you have been advancing your understanding in the Force. Which path, Light or Dark, that you’ve taken to get here, you have arrived. The Council is of the opinion that you are ready, and believe me Zark, we would much rather see you as a Jedi Master than as a Sith or Dark Jedi Master.”

“I…this is a lot,” Zark managed at last.

“Yes, it is,” Searthen interrupted, “Unfortunately, you don’t have a great deal of time to process it all. Our time is running short already. Do I have the Council’s permission to begin, Master Solo?” Leia nodded, and Jiren turned to look at Zark, “Well, come along when you’re ready. Say your goodbyes to the Council now. This’ll be the last time you’ll ever see them. At least…until you die…again…” he paused at this, and then chuckled again, “I’ll be waiting outside the chambers. Come to me when you’re finished.”

Zark nodded dumbly, completely awestruck by what was going on around him. In a sort of daze, he turned to face the Council once more.

“He’s right, Zark,” Leia smiled at him, “This is goodbye. This will be the last time you’ll ever see us like this as a living being.”

“Does this…does all of this mean…” Zark wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Does this mean I’m dead?” Leia said it for him.

“I hadn’t heard…”

“Well that’s because I’m not,” Leia smiled, “Or at least, she’s not. I am neither dead or alive, but a ghost of the past. I am Jedi Master Leia Organa Solo as you remember her the day of your Trials, Zark. The real Leia, the one who has lived a life of trials and tribulations past that day all those years ago is alive and well. You’ll see her again, when the time is right, and soon. As for the rest of the Council…I can not speak so surely about the rest of them. Most of them are dead, but some…some might…or might not be…”

“So you’re…you’re all…”

“Not real?” Leia shook her head, smiling, “We’re real, Zark. We’re real for you, and that’s enough. If someone were to find you here…yes, you’d be talking to yourself. But we’re not a hallucination. Stop second guessing yourself, and us.”

“How do I know that?” Zark asked, confused, “I’ve fooled myself in the past, just like this.”

“Trust in yourself, Zark,” Leia said, “We’ve always been real. Its just…your perspective on the Force…and how you are effect by it…is highly unique, and very direct. In the past, you’ve confused it for mental instability, and understandably so. But the Force has been confused for many things in the past. You know it is real, despite how spectacular it truly is. Know we’re real as well. Trust in the Force. Have a little faith, for galaxy’s sake.”

“You’re right…this doesn’t feel like a hallucination,” Zark admitted, “I can…feel you. All of you.”

“Not for much longer, I’m afraid,” Leia sighed, “We’re out of time, Zark. Our tangible selves are fading, even now. We will linger yet, for a while, watching the Trial, but this is the last you will see or hear of us. This is goodbye! Say hi to the actual me, will you? Actually, don’t. She’ll think you’re crazy. Goodbye, Zark! Good luck! Make us proud. Become who you were born to be.”

They blurred once more, just as they had done when they had convened, and he could hear the whispers again, faintly this time. Then they faded, and as they did, so too did the Jedi Masters, until they were gone. And then, as if it were carried by the wind from some far off place, he could hear Leia’s voice one last time.

“May the Force be with you, Zark. Always.”

And then the chamber was empty, abandoned just as the rest of the Temple was. For a brief moment, Zark wasn’t sure if he had dreamed the entire thing or not, until…

“Are you coming or not?!” came the voice of Searthen outside of the chambers, “I’m on a time limit too, you know!”

Turning slowly, he followed the voice of his old tutor, but not without giving one look back. And for a moment, he thought he could see them all again, sitting just as they had sat the day of his Trials. When the Order had been true guardians, and when the New Republic was alive. But it was just his mind playing tricks on him, for when he blinked they were gone.





They walked together in silence; passing through the empty halls of the Temple, and the overwhelming feeling reminiscent of graveyards filled Zark once more. Had the Order truly abandoned its charge so willingly? After centuries of upholding values of truth and justice when no one else would, only receding into hiding in the face of utter extinction, the legendary Jedi Order had been absolved willingly by a few Jedi who mistook patience for stagnation.

Impatience ruled the galaxy, it seemed. The Jedi were impatient for a return to a brighter future, and anything they saw as not immediately achieving such a feat was useless and stagnant. But the people, too, were impatient. Rational, concerned citizens all over the galaxy longed for days of peace once more. Most wanted it under a peaceful, democratic rule, but some had become so desperate to crave peace even at the cost of morals, and under any leadership, even corrupt, intolerant and brutal fascist regime such as the infamous ‘New Order’.

Zark did his best to stay out of politics, viewing them as distractions when it came to the true purpose of the Jedi. To ensure justice. The infinite cogs and snags of any political system complicated that pursuit, put white and black situations into a disturbing shade of gray. But he supposed, if he were to truly become a Jedi Master at last, politics would be unavoidable.

For the Jedi Masters, wise and powerful as they might be, were delegated the unenviable, but necessary task, of following the Code, as best as possible, within the structure of the same political system that so many Knights and Padawans avoided. They were the only ones qualified, in the end, to make the decisions that would, in the end, benefit both the Jedi cause the governmental system.

As he thought about this, so too did he begin to think about what it meant in itself to become a Jedi Master. A greater responsibility, he realized. A Jedi Knight had a responsibility only to a person. It was their job to makes sure each and every person they could affect lived a better life as a result. But Jedi Masters…Jedi Masters had a responsibility to the people. It was their job to ensure that all people they could affect lived better lives as a result. A significantly more difficult task.

“You will have time to meditate on such responsibilities later,” Searthen said at last, breaking the silence, “For now, you must prepare yourself both mentally and physically for the Trial.”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a standard Trial system for Jedi Master,” Zark furrowed his brow, straining himself to think back to his days as a learning Padawan.

“There isn’t,” the Rogue Jedi admitted, his eyes were closed as he walked, “The path from Knight to Master is an eventual one, and cannot be hallmarked by one specific event. It is not a sudden metamorphosis. Though you do not know it, you have been undergoing the actual Trial for months, in your deeper understanding of the Force around you.”

“I…I still don’t remember what happened in the last few months…” Zark admitted, sheepishly, “…at least, not completely. Everything is…disjointed…confused. Memories are all out of place,” his expression turned to one of alarm, “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, Zark. You were quite harmless these past few months. In fact, if anything you were beneficial,” Searthen smiled, “A key factor in the Council’s rather favorable opinion of you and your abilities. As for the specifics…those are not important. They will come back to you in time…or maybe they won’t. Either way, it matters not. What matters is that you’ve grown, and you have grown, haven’t you Zark? Reach out with the Force. You grasp it much more easily, your ability to wield it is sharply honed. Can you not sense it?”

Zark did reach out, and nodded his head in consent. He could feel it. He was…stronger in the Force, somehow.

“If there is no Trial, then what must I prepare for?” Zark asked, hurrying to keep up with his tutor’s increasing gait, “I thought you said no specific event represented the Trial? Doesn’t that mean I’m a Jedi Master already?”

“No,” Jiren said, a hint of sharpness in his voice, “While a specific event does not represent the Trial, the final transition of moving from Knight to Master is almost always heralded by a sort of culmination; a breaking point, if you will. Usually it is an epiphany…a sudden realization of all of these facts and everything around you. But your case…like yourself in general, Zark…is a little different from the norm.”

“What do you mean?” Zark asked.

“We’re here,” Searthen said, ignoring the question, and Zark realized where they had been headed.

The flight of stairs they had been climbing had finally ended, and through the door at the end they burst out into a torrent of rain. Zark had only been on the roof of the Jedi Temple a few times during his tutelage as a member of the Order, but the view was unmistaken able. The surrounding forest was a perfect compliment to the dazzling view of not far off Theed, in all of its glory.

The rain slowly began to soak his robes, and he pulled them tighter around him.

“Despair not at the rain, for you will welcome it before you leave here,” Searthen said at last, “Your Trial is unique, Zark. Yours is a trial by fire.”

“I don’t understand,” Zark said at length, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that now is the time to act, Zark,” Searthen whirled around to face him, “Now is the time to come to the aid of that which you abandoned so long ago. Now is the time to be a Jedi again, and in doing so become what you were born to be.

Right now, there is an Imperial warfleet in orbit of the planet. The Nabooians have surrendered, and all of the Jedi are gone…all but you. The Queen at Theed expects a search for Jedi, one that she believes will end fruitlessly, and the eventual forceful annexation of Naboo into Imperial rule. What she does not know…is that this fleet is not led by an Imperial warlord…but by Sith.”

“…they’ll be slaughtered,” Zark whispered.

“The Sith Order is here to finish what they started in the past burnings of Theed,” Jiren growled, “The warfleet is led by their Dark Lord of the Sith…”

“Lupercus Darksword…” he murmered.

“Is it Lupercus?” Searthen asked, shaking his head, “Never thought he had it in him. I knew him, Zark, and he is ruthless. His apprentice is with him, no doubt just as cruel…and there is another…another Master.”

“What am I to do against two Sith Masters and an Apprentice?” Zark asked, his eyes wide.

“Fight,” Searthen said, simply, “Fight…or die. I must go now, Zark…but I will be watching.”

Slowly, the image of Searthen Jiren began to fade.

“Wait!” Zark cried out, “I don’t have a lightsaber!”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” the fading image of Gash Jiren grinned, “Take mine.”

The specter produced a saber from his robes and tossed it to him. Zark caught it, amazed to find that it was completely corporeal. He activated it, and it hummed to life. The blade was yellow, the color that Zark had always favored. Searthen faded even more, bowing low as he did.

“Good luck, Zark!” he called out, his voice now a whisper, “May the Force be with you.”

And he was gone.

Zark deactivated the saber, and looked up, shielding his eyes from the rain with his left hand. He couldn’t see them, but they were up there, he knew. An Imperial warfleet. And soon Imperial soldiers would be swarming Theed, slaughtering any who might resist. And then…then would come the Sith. And hell would come with them. Zark sighed.

May the Force be with him indeed.

Shall we go and find yourself some death...?

His Master hadn't waited for a response, and Ithron didn't bother to give one. The question was rhetorical. He walked a pace behind and to the right of his Master as they headed down the long corridors of the Imperial vessel towards the yacht. As they walked, robes trailing, Imperial Officers and Ratings stopped what they were doing to stand to attention and salute their passing.

Minutes later, the personal transport of the Diktator of Correlia was entering the atmosphere of Naboo with an Inquisition landing craft on each wingtip.

The thought crossed Ithron's mind that he was about to land on Naboo and take part in the extermination of the Jedi. At the same time, he remembered the other purpose of this mission.

I go to seek my own destruction...

Breathing deeply to steady his nerves, words came into his mind unlooked for:

Ithron, fear is nothing to be ashamed of. The words were those of Master Cole Donovin, from more than five years in the past. Fear is fundamentally because of anxiety about what will become of your own self. Your ego. As a Jedi, you need not let that worry you. Those who follow the code live forever as part of the Force.

So you see, the worst that can happen isn't really all that bad. What else is there left to fear? Here the Master had paused, thoughtfully.

There is nothing to fear, except fear itself. Fear will lead to Dark Side if you let it consume you...

As the ship passed through a layer of turbulence, Ithron was brought back to the present.

I hope they still teach that crap at the Academy, he mused. Because pretty soon they're going to know the real meaning of fear...

Soon, final preparations to land were being made. Lupercus was sat, perfectly still, with his eyes focussing on some point that was beyond Ithron's sight. Knowing that he would receive his orders in a moment, he let the Dark Side of the Force flow through his body, swamping his senses, dulling his fear, heightening his strength - more potent than adrenaline.

Two days had long passed since his arrival to the planet and still he hadn't returned to the temple. There wasn't any particular reason why he hadn't, he just didn't. Opting instead to migrate further north to the less in-habited, more rural outskirts of Theed. A place he had heard the other padawans speak of quite frequently, but he, himself had never visited before. To call it peaceful wouldn't give justice to the true splendor of the countryside. With it's lush green blanketed hills that seemed to roll in more succession than the waves of the vastest oceans, to the skyscraping forest canopies of Naboo's many wooded areas, down to the smallest pollinating insects buzzing amongst the floral patches that sprang forth every couple of feet. If Utopia existed, this would be the closest thing to it and it was, for the first day and a half at least. About mid-afternoon of the second day however, the skies began to darken. Flashes of lightning, accompanied shortly there after by cracks of thunder replaced the warmth of the Nubian sun as the landscape fell under a great looming shadow.

"Master Zolar, Master Zolar!"An elderly gentleman exclaimed as he hurriedly scampered into the wide open gazebo where the other stood watching the distant rain showers inch their way ever closer to the solitude of the humble homestead in which he was currently staying.

"What is it Grawbo?" Marek replied turning to face the old man. "And please, Marek is fine; I'm not a master yet."

The elderly man was almost out of breath having just shuffled at a heightened speed over a distance he probably hadn't traveled in four years combined. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it was quite a long haul for a person in the depleting stages of life. His wrinkled features displaying the years of hard work and dedication he had poured into the up-keep and maintenance of the place. Now it garnished streams of sweat that seemed to fill the crevices of his face like a chain of shifting lochs. Each one spilling in the other as he breathed.

"Master..." he was having trouble speaking and breathing at the same time.

"Calm down Grawbo, catch your breath first." In an act of reassurance, Marek placed his hand on the messengers shoulder and encouraged him to take it easy and relax.

After a couple of deep breaths, the elderly being's pulse began to slow and he was able to speak without fear of losing oxygen.

"Master Zolar, we've just receiving distressing news from some of our friends in Theed," Grawbo spoke.

As a concerned look spread across his face, Marek questioned the older man "What kind of distressing news, what’s happened?"

The elderly Nubian moved to the edge of the gazebo and peered upwards into the heavens above them.

"The Empire has blockaded the planet!"

Awe-struck Zolar spoke out, "What? Why would the Empire blockade Naboo?" It didn't make sense to him, what interest would the Empire have in this planet; Naboo hadn't been the center of controversy in quite along time.

"Are you sure Grawbo?"

"Yes! Master Zolar! Our friends would not lie about such a thing."

"But why Naboo? What greater purpose would that serve, there's nothing of real militaristic value here." That's when he was struck by a fleeting thought, "Unless they've come for the Temple. But what knowledge exactly would they want to gather from there?, they have no desire to follow the force, besides what possible damage could they do with thousand year old artifacts they know next to nothing about?"

"Maybe we stopped trading with them?"Grawbo knowing full-well that wasn't the case.

It was obvious that something wasn't right here. An Imperial blockade of a planet that posed zero threat to the integrity of the New Order was hardly a trade dispute remedy. There was a hidden agenda behind it that needed to be uncovered.

"What will you do Master Zolar?"

"For now, nothing, I will remain here until I have a better understanding of what is happening." The Jedi responded. "Until then, we shall go about acting as if nothing has happened. Tell no one else Grawbo, until we know for sure what is at hand." Upon finishing his sentence, he turned his gaze back to the approaching storm,
Knowing full-well that it was going to strengthen and before long would shroud them in complete darkness.

He was glad he came here.

The dark entity that was from another universe relished the opportunity to learn what the ‘light’ side had. Though the Jedi Temple was abandoned, it’s archives destroyed to keep the dark side from claiming it, there were still a number of artifacts that were forgotten and left behind. Indeed, Demonakos had already found and tucked away a few of them into a dimensional pocket for later studying.

He had arrived on Naboo much the same he had on other planets: by changing his form to appear as a ‘normal’ person and only reverting to his multi-limbed, eye-less form after he was out of public eye. Demonakos knew that unlike the folks on Corsecant, these people would be much more prone to panic and thus bring a lot of attention to himself. The Jedi Temple may be abandoned, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still Jedi here on the planet. Indeed as a precaution he had taken care to mask his presence just in case and as fortune would have it, a powerful presence suddenly appeared right in the temple with him.

Quietly he watched as the man seemed to converse with no one: he could sense the presence of the Jedi spirits of old, but he dare not make it so he could see them himself lest his own presence be detected. A perk of being of a different essence, a different universe, he decided, for those attuned to this essence, the Force, don’t have such an easy time detecting him if he didn’t want them too. Eventually though that would change, for he had the intention of adapting himself fully to this universe and thus making himself a powerful contender for control of this galaxy, if not the universe.

The man, a Jedi he realized, finally left the temple, still talking to seemingly nothing and Demonakos resumed his search. This search was again interrupted when he realized there were far darker entities on the planet: welders of the Dark Side he recognized. Two were still a ways off, but one was approaching the Temple. Some kind of conflict was about to happen and Demonakos found himself torn between ignoring it and continuing his search for knowledge and watching the show.

He opted for the former: he wasn’t about to let the competition get the artifacts before him! Then another thought came to mind: he had sensed the presence of much weaker, if not simply untrained, light side entities on the way to the temple and these dark ones have no doubt come in force. Those untrained ones were vulnerable and would surely be slaughtered. Normally he wouldn’t care for lives of mortals, but though he considered Chaos to be his ideal, he recognized the need for balance.

As he understood it, the Jedi were currently scattered and unguided, the young ones here the largest concentration of them. He had seen how large the force of the Dark Side was, even if a good deal of it was only due to the misguided group called the Jedi Corps. It is in their nature to try to wipe out the other side. He thought. But of the dark destroys the future of the light here….and with the state of the Force as it is…

With a faint snarl, he plucked up a couple more artifacts and tucked them away before climbing to the very top of the temple. There, he cloaked, making himself unseen before the mundane before taking to the sky. It pained him to admit though, that if a particularly powerful member of the Dark side came after the young ones directly, even he may not be able to help them….

Modified Luxury Yacht Tequila Sunrise, Naboo atmosphere.



Lupercus couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he listened to his apprentice's internal monologue. He was amazed at the similarities between Ithrons approach and the one he himself had during his first journey to Naboo. Not quite still an apprentice, not yet a Knight, but definitely revelling in the potential for destruction.

The Sith Lord looked around at his yacht, bought long ago from someone Lupercus swore was a Jedi but also not quite so, and amazed at the level of modification it had undergone. The Aetan II cloak was currently active, hiding the craft from even the eyes of their Inquisitorate allies just off the port bow. Leaning back on the plush red interior Lupercus looked towards the stern bedroom, his personal quarters, knowing full well that Taja, his soon to be 'wife', was waiting for him to seize her a crown to wear.

The prospect of becoming a husband was one that would usually fill a man of similar disposition to Lupercus with dread, but the fact was it suited both their needs. It wasn't going to stop his philandering and he was just as sure it wasn't going to stop hers. Still, it resulted in another title for the both of them, or at least it would once this action was over, plus a garenteed woman for Lupercus to bed, which could never be bad. At least, so he reasoned.

Meanwhile his gaze turned towards the front of the ship, taking in the two ornate staircases that lead towards the bow quarters where Ishara waited, preparing herself for the 'training exercise' she was about to undertake. Mistress Selene believed that this would be the perfect opportunity for her to get a proper grasp of the powers at her disposal, not just by watching Ithron and Lupercus, but also to see how they applied in a larger sense. That being against a powerful enemy rather than the petty Jedi they had defeated on Korriban.

Suddenly though Lupercus' attention was drawn to a light on the level below the one Ishara currently inhabited, flashing from red to green, indicating momentary touchdown on the planets surface. Grinning to himself he rose, turning to Ithron.

"Shall we?"

Ishara had been meditating in her quarters, reaching out with her soul to touch the darkness that she felt around her. She wanted to draw from its strength and take it for her own as Lupercus had instructed her.


Lupercus…


Ishara’s mind drifted as his image came to her. She then sensed his presence as she felt the ship begin to land. Slowly, Ishara rose to her feet and attached her lightsaber to her belt. She hurried to the door and walked outside just as Lupercus and Ithron were passing.

Ishara pasued before she bowed. “My Shaodw Lord.” She lowered her head and gave a seductive glare up at Lupercus as she leaned back to allow him only a small space to pass which forced him to brush up against her as he did so. Ishara kept her eyes fixed on Lupercus’ as a smile crossed her face until he finally turned to continue along his way. She then moved back further to allow Ithron to pass before she turned and followed them to the ramp of the ship.

Ishara covered her eyes from the sunlight. Lexia, where the Nightsisters lived, was a planet that had an endless night so arriving on a planet which had a bright sun was a challenge for her from the start.. As Ishara exited the ship, she glanced up into the blue sky, then off into the horizon. Ishara crossed her arms as she squinted in the sunlight. “The planet is rank of Jedi my Shadow Lord.”