The following events take place after Dark Rising: What's Yours Is Mine.





Escape.

Drifting through his own personal nether, Zark Ekan at last had time to truly contemplate the meaning of that word. He had escaped, at last, but what did that mean, truly?

He had escaped from Naboo. This, foremost, was in his mind. The direct threat of the invading Imperial army had disappeared with the starlines of hyperspace. The Sith, too, were far behind him, left to squabble and fight amongst themselves over the plunder of that world lost.

Naboo, once the lastion bastion of all the good he had ever known within this galaxy, fallen to the forces of destruction and terror that he had pledged himself to fight until he no longer could. Yes, he had escaped, but how much of that world could he ever ultimately flee from? A part of Naboo would always remain with him, haunting his subconscious.

The galaxy was expanding, celestial bodies drifting away from one another without so much as a passing glance. And in this slowly but steadily expansion, this drift toward ultimate entropy, the Light was slowly fading away, reeling back into the furthest depths of the outermost edges of known space, cowering in fear of the Darkness that swept over the core like a plague.

How long would it be until the Light disappeared completely? How long could this galaxy last until the Dark Side erased the very memory of the Jedi Knights, once sworn protectors of justice throughout these drifting stars, from the minds of those who they had served? And when that happened, how long would civilization truly last before the Sith ate it alive, wiping themselves away along with the last remnants of order.

Was there any escape from this inevitability? How far could any man run from complete obliteration? He had been trying for years to do just that, to lose himself in the outer rim, in the uncharted worlds. In doing so, he had almost destroyed himself, and for what? A few days ago he found himself right back where he had started, where everything had began for him in this war of wars between good and evil, ideologies.

On Naboo, Zark had stood up and fought against those corrupted souls who had stolen everything from him, who he had done everything possible to hide from, the cause of all his misery and his exodus. And, with the Imperial legion fast on their heels and the Dark Lord of the Sith himself leading the charge, Zark had barely escaped alive.

Well, that last part remained to be seen for certain.

The Jedi was only dimly aware of his surroundings, his senses clouded by the fugue of exhaustion, extensive and near mortal wounds, and what could pass for the most rudimentary of Force trances. In one of the truest senses of agony that he had ever known, he had escaped back into his mind, bolstering his defenses against impending death and doing everything he could to aid the healing process.

Burns and lacerations seemed to cover his entire body. A hole in his left shoulder, cauterized in the same thrust that had caused the wound, had almost burned its way through out the other side of his body. Luckily the wound has missed bone. Had he been less fortunate, Zark did not doubt that his left arm would have been lost to him forever. But considering the extensive damage to the nerves in that area, it was still uncertain exactly how much mobility he would retain in that limb.

A deep gash ran across his right leg, a slice that had brought him down to his knees when it had struck. A robotic arm was hard at work repairing his nearly maimed leg, reattaching tissue and sewing nerves back together. The pain was excruciating, but there were no anesthetics anywhere to be found, so the Jedi's feeble mental barriers were all that kept him from slipping into shock.

Burns ranging from mild first degree to more severe second degree had scorched the left side of his face, including his jaw and cheek all the way up to his ear, which had been singed to the point where a small piece of the lobe had been vaporized. Zark could still feel the lightsaber held against his face by Lupercus, both to keep him pinned to the ground and also in an attempt of cruel torture. The Sith were sadistic even in the heat of battle, and Zark did not doubt that the Dark Lord had found time to enjoy the scream he had elicited before he had battered his opponent's weapon away with his own before he could go in for the kill.

The wound that worried him the most, however, was the lightsaber slash that had severed his right hand. The pain at the time had almost caused him to black out, but luckily he had staved off the urge before it took his consciousness from him and even caught his saber with his left hand and continued the battle against Darksword.

During his time at the Jedi Temple, Zark had trained to the point where he had come as close to ambidextrous as any man could be without being born that way, but with the wounds he had already received and the trauma of losing a hand, the duel with the Sith Lord had not lasted much longer.

Escape.

Had he really escaped Naboo at all? Would the moments on that planet reach its grip across the stars, catching up to him when the Empire and Sith Order could not, and claim his life at last?

As he glanced all about the med center of the shuttle he and his newfound companion had fled the planet on, his unsteady focused honed almost at once upon the satchel that lay on the floor near the foot of the gurney he lay upon. Humming so strongly with energy Zark felt as if he could almost hear it with not only the Force but his ears, the crystal he had gone back for, the object he had dueled Lupercus Darksword to protect, pulsed with a signature more powerful than he had ever sensed.

At that moment, Zark knew that no matter how little his life mattered in the long run, be he one of the last of the Jedi or not, nothing could be more important than surviving until he reached his destination. Whether or not that destination was his final one did not matter. All that mattered was that he lived long enough to deliver that crystal.

Closing his eyes, he shut out his corporeal senses and set to work aiding the healing process with as much vigor as he could muster. Death was not an option. He could not fail. This was his trial, he knew now. A trial by fire indeed it had been, but also a trial of salvation, redemption, rebirth.

Where there was fire there was light.

A trial by Light.

How had he gotten to here, to this point in time?

What moment in his life, what butterfly effect, had lead him to where he was right now? Standing in the doorway of the med bay of a shuttle he had used to smuggle contraband for more years than he cared to count, staring at the dying body of a Jedi Master. What had happened that had guided him, swaggering stance and holdout blaster and all, into something that seemed straight out of a holovid?

Isaac paused to regard the man he had met a few days before, holed up on Naboo and hiding from Imperial shock troops. For the dozenth time, it seemed like he was looking upon him, wounds covering his entire body and too weak to open his eyes though he may be, for the first time and with a sense of awe. He had never met a man so strong of character, so commanding of respect and dignity, before in his life.

Man, and he had thought that he was charismatic.

Leaning on the side of the hatch frame, he felt as if he had strayed into a dream, and he felt just as helpless as if this really had occured in his sleep. The smuggler liked to think he was a little ahead of the curve than most of the...colleagues he had met in his profession when it came to medical supplies, but he had dug through every crevice of his shuttle twice, had scraped up every piece of medical related equipment he had a more than a little equipment that had nothing to do with health care, and now all he could do was stand around and watch this man either live or die.

An IV pumped bacta in through the Jedi's left arm where Isaac had, after a couple of tries, finally found a vein. The robotic arm he had used in the past to fix most of the "what he had thought had been major" injuries during his time using this shuttle was hard at work attempting to repair the deep wound in his leg, and he had smeared more bacta on the burns on the Jedi's face and around the cauterized stub of what had once been his right hand.

What he wouldn't give for a bacta tank.

The monitors reading the Jedi's life signs showed data that had begun to increasingly worry the smuggler. They were nothing near as bad as they had been when he had first hooked the man up to the machine, in those touch and go moments where he had almost been to late to save him. The Jedi had actually flatlined at one point, but Isaac had managed to resuscitate him in time. Over the past day his vitals had been slowly increasing, but now they were taking a turn for the worse.

With the last of his adrenaline from the carnage on Naboo fading from his system, the shock and trauma were catching up to him at last. He might not be strong enough to stay alive until he was fully healed.

After what seemed like an eternity of standing in that hatchway, Cain finally relinquished his position and made the short walk to the bridge where he checked over the sensors for the hundredth time that day. They were still in a stable route through hyperspace, which was at least some good news.

The shuttle had been pockmarked pretty good during the last moments of their escape from Naboo. The Imperial blockade had already been set up by the time their shuttle had blasted its way out of Theed, but Isaac had known some tricks for dealing with the Empire that he had picked up in his line of work.

They had broadcasted a false register in their ship, that of an old Imperial shuttle Caine had hacked and added to his voluminous selection of fake handles, and it had kept the blockade from vaporizing their vessel long enough for Isaac to get as far as he had wanted.

Standard operational procedure for the blockading Imperials had been to send out a TIE escort and visually confirm their identities and to ascertain their purpose. When they had arrived Isaac had blown the two TIEs away before they had time to react and punched sublight, using the wreckage of the fighters to disrupt any tractors that the nearest capital ships could ensnare them with.

The shuttle had managed to get far away enough for Isaac to make the jump to lightspeed, but the Imperials had managed to get quite a few long range hits in before they did. One of these had struck dangerously close to their hyperdrive, and Isaac had been worried that the damage might disrupt their trip through hyperspace. So far they had gotten lucky, but the smuggler was good at his job because he didn't take any risks.

Or at least when he did, they were calculated ones.

The hyperdrive was holding up, but with the damage to the shuttle they were moving at a crawl compared to the normal speeds it was capable of. It would take them a few days more to reach their destination.

Their destination.

Isaac had begged the Jedi to let him set course for the nearest friendly planet and to a hospital, but his passenger had remained stubborn to the point where he had driven fear into the smuggler's heart. No deviation, no stops. Get to the destination. It was more important than his life. Isaac didn't get it.

What was so important on Ossus anyway?

"Searthen...Ainam...Leia..."

His voice came out almost mumbles, rasping and harsh. A guttural variant on his more normally cultured speech. Was he delirious? Or was he something more? Something that transcends delirium, physical pain, emotional suffering, corporeality?

Then, all at once.

"ISAAC."

He had not known that he still possessed the strength of lungs to utter a cry so deafening and commanding. What was going on? He felt other forces at work within the confines of this med bay. He was still in control, but at the same time he felt as if his thoughts were not just his own, but a collaboration between himself and...something else.

What was going on?

The smuggler came rushing into the room, his expression wide. He glanced from the Jedi, now wide awake and regarding him with that same piercing gaze that had overtaken him on Naboo and guided him into his service, to the vitals monitor. The data splayed across that screen was much worse than it had been minutes before, and Isaac's thoughts flashed back again to when he was first hooked up to the machine.

Yet here the Jedi lay, his expression no longer one of pain and fugue but of calm rationality and serenity.

Isaac knew that he was dying.

"Isaac, come closer to me," Zark's voice was composed, gentle, but the statement was not a question. The smuggler complied.

"Jedi, listen to me," Isaac began the speech he had been rehearsing for the past day, "You're dying. I don't think I can save you-"

"I know," Zark cut him off before he could continue, "I know. My body is failing. It won't be long until my heart stops beating."

"Then you must let me save you!" the smuggler, caught off guard by the Jedi's matter-of-fact way of dismissing him, but no less determined, "Let me change course! I can get us to a safe place within a couple of hours and-"

"No," it was a far cry from the passionate shouts that had driven Isaac to obey him before, but the effect it had was more or less the same. The firmness of his tone and the look in his eyes gave the smuggler the answer he needed, "There is no other destination for me. No other direction I may walk."

"You're not being reasonable!" Isaac cried near hysterically. He was terrified, but still determined, "The pain is too much for you. I'm sorry, Jedi. You may not give a shit but I do! I have a hell of a lot on my conscience already. The death of a Jedi isn't getting added to that list. I'm going to go change course now. I'm sorry."

"Help me stand."

Again, where Cain had expected shouts of protest, he was both confounded by the Jedi's calm and caught completely off guard by the strangeness of his commands.

"Jedi, you're dying. Don't you understand that?"

"Take this tube out of my arm," Zark said, "unbuckle these restrains, and turn that robotic arm off. Help me stand. After that, you can change whatever course you like. I won't stop you."

"I..." Isaac faltered.

"Please."

And then something took a hold of the smuggler. A sense of calm not unlike what he saw in the Jedi, of understanding and a sense of rightness and acceptance. He slipped the IV out of the Jedi's arm, unbuckled the straps, and deactivated the robot arm, swiveling it out of the way. He pulled off the sensors that connected Zark to the monitors, and ignored the steady beep of the flatline.

"Thank you," Zark whispered as Isaac swung the Jedi's right arm around his neck and gently lifted him to his feet.

Isaac expected the Jedi to collapse when his toes first touched the floor, but to his complete shock Zark, supporting most of his weight on his left, less grievously wounded leg, retained his balance and stance. Isaac turned to leave for the bridge.

"Wait."

"You told me to help you stand and then I could change course," Isaac called over his shoulder, "I'm not wasting any time. You're dying."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck don't you seem to care?!" Isaac snarled, wheeling around to face the man he had rescued from Naboo.

"Hand me my satchel," Zark said calmly, offering out his left and only hand.

"Why?! Why WHY WHY?!" Isaac nearly bellowed, "Ever since I've met you you've given me commands, but never any fucking answers?! I don't even know your name!"

"Its Zark Ekan, now hand me my satchel."

Isaac grabbed the satchel and nearly threw it at the Jedi. He stopped himself just in time to remember the other man's state of health and settle for roughly shoving the bag into his hands.

Unceremoniously, Zark pulled the crystal from the satchel and stabbed himself in the chest with it.

The explosion of light blinded Isaac and the shockwave blew him off his feet.

The hatch had been left hanging partially closed after Isaac had burst into the med bay, answering the Jedi's call. When the shockwave sent him flying backwards, his body clipped the heavy metal door with such force that it swung wide open, slowing the smuggler's momentum only slightly until he was brought to a sickening halt when he slammed against the corridor wall, crumpling down at once against the floor.

Pain coursed throughout his entire body and his eyes still burned, the white flash of the "explosion" still burned into his retina. Isaac feebly tried to push himself up off the ground but collapsed quickly, eliciting a faint groan as his body hit the floor again. The white flashing across his eyes dimmed slowly as he became dimly aware that he was losing consciousness.

And then, as he fought to remain in the waking world, a voice pierced the haze so clearly at first he thought it was in his own head.

"Wake up, Isaac. We have work to do."

His body grew weaker. He tried to open his mouth, tried to respond. He gurgled out an attempted plea for help, a cry of dismay, and a sigh of resignation all in one unintelligible moan.

"No, Isaac. You're not giving up yet."

A hand reached through the dimming white haze, as clear as the feed of the holoscreens of a spaceport on a Core world, and grasped his own, yanking him with a force so simultaneously strong and gentle that Isaac felt himself floating up into a standing position at an alarming velocity.

A glowing white orb passed through the other entity's hand and into his own, whizzing up his arm as if inside the limb, yet so clearly visible as if his body was transparent, and found its way to the center of his body. The orb split open and streaks of energy flowed throughout him, erasing the pain along his side and back and focusing his vision with a sudden clarity that made his head spin.

The energy slowly dissipated, fading away until the glow throughout his body was gone, and he looked up to find himself staring in the face of the Jedi who had, not ten minutes ago, been dying on the gurney of his shuttle's med bay.

Looking the man over, Isaac could see the last remnants of the same energy that had just healed his own body flow across the multitude of wounds that covered the Jedi's. Even the deep gash in his right leg, half re-sewn by the robotic arm, finished the connection itself and scabbed over in seconds, leaving behind no trace but a sizeable scar.

In moments, the Jedi was as healthy as he had been before his duel with the Sith, except...

"Some things, even the Force cannot undo," Zark said as if reading Isaac's thoughts. The smuggler's gaze had fallen to the end of the Jedi's right arm, which still ended in a stump where his right hand had once been attached, although the burn marks were gone, "No matter how powerful the healer may be."

Fully healed and with his senses back, Isaac realized that the man's voice was in his head, as well as being spoken audibly. The tone was not the same as what Zark's voice had sounded like before. It was definitely reminiscent of his voice, but there was something else there now. Almost as if there were two people sharing one body.

The second, new voice was calming, soothing, but at the same time powerful and resolute. It scared him far more than the Jedi had, especially now that he was near-fully healed and standing before him, his posture imposing. But perhaps the scariest part of the man standing before the smuggler was the fact that the crystal from his satchel was still sticking halfway out of the front of his chest.

There was no wound in a normal sense. The crystal was obviously embedded in his body, but it had not punctured through his skin. There was no blood, no gaping hole. It was almost as if it had fit into a slot specifically designed for it. The veins in his chest surrounding the crystal pulsed brightly with the same white aura that had both blown him back and flown through him in the shape of the orb.

The crystal itself, which had glowed only faintly before, now shined brightly, illuminating the corridor brightly. As Isaac paused to regard the corridor's dim lights that covered the shuttle, he noticed that those nearby seemed to shine much brighter than normal.

Isaac's gaze snapped back to the Jedi with wide eyes as he realized the man was laughing.

"So much fear I sense in you, Isaac. What are you afraid of? Me?" Zark's eyes shimmered with a hint of the pure light that seemed to surround him, "Do I seem like the type of person who would harm you, Isaac? Do I pose a threat?"

"I...I've heard stories about the Jedi," he stammered, suddenly feeling very sheepish.

"Ahhh...no doubt stories that make us seem terrifying. Stories from whom?"

"Well, the Empire-" Isaac began.

"And, as a smuggler shipping supplies from the outer rim to Naboo, I can understand why the Empire would seem to be the most...reputable source of news and knowledge," Zark's eyes glimmered once more as he let out another chuckle.

"Its not just the Empire! Everyone knows it. Stay clear of the Jedi and their Holy War. Getting involved with the skiffing Force is a good way to end up dead, and from what I saw on Naboo, I'm inclined to believe what people say."

"Clever, fair, and quick too. Bravo, Mr. Cain," to the smuggler's surprise, the Jedi's tone lost none of its joviality.

"In my line of work, those qualities are a necessity. Except for maybe the second one."

"And a sense of humor, even in a pinch!" Zark gave another belt of laugher, and then his expression grew suddenly serious, "Mr. Cain, I admire your character and respect your instincts, which makes this difficult to tell you. You've done exactly what you meant to avoid. You're stuck right in the middle of a so-called "Holy War".

But this war isn't just a religious conflict. No, Mr. Cain. You've walked right into the proverbial battle between Good and Evil. The enemies we face aren't regular folk like you and...well, like you. They aren't misunderstood, painted false colors by propaganda. Isaac, the enemies I face are souls twisted to the deepest, darkest depths of evil. They are wholly corrupt, cruel, and remorseless. And by association with me, you are in mortal danger."

Isaac remained silent, fear streaking through him stronger than he had ever known.

"I wish I could tell you that you had a choice," Zark continued after noting the other man's silence, "But I'm afraid the Force has chosen you, as it chose me years and years ago. Don't misunderstand me, don't fear! I am not cruel, I will not force you at blasterpoint to do my bidding. I am not a Sith, Isaac. You are free to do as you please.

But understand, Isaac. The Force is the architect of all things. It knows you far better than you could ever know yourself. And when it chooses you. When it selects you for a task...there is no escape from that. You can run as far away as you can, and you'll find yourself right back where you started. Trust me...I know.

But if you accept it, if you stand and face the charge it has given you. Men have become legends serving the Force. I know your type, smuggler. I know the life of a selfless savior and warrior of justice is not what you want, but I also know that while some smugglers are cruel and heartless, looking only for a profit, some get into your line of work out of a desire to help. You were smuggling medical supplies through Imperial space. I'm pretty sure I know which category you fall into, and trust me when I tell you that the lives of planets, systems, maybe even the galaxy depend upon the task ahead of us."

Isaac reeled at this speech, this flood of words flowing in through his hears and planting itself mentally into his brain. He known before the Jedi had spoken that Naboo was not the end of it, that he might end up on a few more wanted lists, but the extent that the Jedi was talking. He knew what happened to guys when they pissed off the Empire off seriously enough.

And all that talk of Holy War, good and evil, armageddon...he had been in deep before, but fuck. His mind worked rapidly and shrewdly, processing his available options. He came to a final conclusion that was less than satisfactory. As terrified as he was, the safest place to be right now was probably with the Jedi nearby.

"What do you need from me?" he asked at last.

"Something that sounds more simple than it is," Zark said as soon as Isaac had asked, as if he had been expecting the question, "But something that falls into your set of...expertise. Help me deliver a package to the Temple on Ossus."

"What kind of package are we talking about?" Isaac asked, praying to whatever divine powers were listening that it wasn't something terrifying.

"Don't worry, Isaac. Its not that scary," now Isaac was sure he was reading his mind.

"Well, what is it?"

"I need you to help me deliver myself."

They sat in silence, each man absorbed in his own task. Isaac poured over the helm's readouts, absorbing every bit of data that his mind could process and making delicate adjustments where he saw fit. In the past day, his concern over the Jedi's physical state had been so great that he had greatly underestimated just how badly off his shuttle was. A shot to the hull had been a hair's breadth away from hitting the hyperdrive motivator, and while Isaac had managed to contain the damage for now, they needed a spaceport soon.

To his right, the man who had not one hour ago been dying in the med bay sat in the co-pilot's chair, his eyes moving a little too rapidly over the HoloNet feed displayed before him. Isaac had long since given up trying to keep up with the Jedi's almost frantic pace through cyberspace. Even now, he had three feeds going at once.

The smuggler had been caught off guard at first when the feeds had begun to move of their own accord, switching out for another without a touch of the console, but he had quickly realized that the Jedi was manipulating the controls with the Force. Shaking his head, the smuggler turned again back toward his own display. His eyes glanced up, not for the first time, at their destination readout.

[FONT=Courier New]In Transit - Ossus[/FONT]

Zark cracked the smallest of grins as he noted his companion's emotions and behavior. He was deeply concentrated in a sort of Force trance, the likes of which he had not even known himself capable of, absorbing information at a rate impossible for any human. The crystal...he should have known there would have been side effects.

Without pausing to stop his concentration on the HoloNet feeds, he spoke, "Something troubling you, Isaac?"

"A few things, actually," Isaac said at length, having paused to regard the impossible micromanagement the Jedi seemed capable of.

"Go on, then. I'm not a man to keep a friend in the dark," another HoloNet feed closed, replaced a second later by a new one.

"A friend...am I a friend, Master Jedi, or just a tool?" Isaac asked. There was no contempt in his voice. It was a genuine question of curiosity.

"You are a friend to me...and a "tool" to the Force I serve," Zark answered, furrowing his brow as if in concentration, "As am I. Isaac, we are all tools, blunt instruments akin to to pieces on a chess board. Does that make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Yes, yes it does. Quite a bit, actually," Isaac bit back, narrowing his eyes, "I don't like the idea that I'm being manipulated for someone else's ends, and I sure as skiff don't believe in fate."

"Neither do I, Isaac," the Jedi's response caught the smuggler more than a bit off guard, "I believe that you are free to do whatever you choose, whether it be to listen to me or blast yourself out the airlock. I believe that there is no predetermined outcome, no set order of circumstance. I believe in free will, the same as you.

But I also believe in something else. Something greater than all of this," he motioned to the empty space outside the viewport, "I believe in the Force, Isaac. And that is an important distinction to make. Anyone can know of the Force. The Jedi and the Sith have been decimating the galaxy in this war for enough millenia that there can be no doubt as to its existence. But very few people ever ask why."

"Why what?" the smuggler's resentment had dissolved into curiosity.

"Why does it exist, Isaac? For what purpose? If there is no purpose, then Jedi and Sith have been killing each other senselessly for...for too long. I don't believe that. I don't believe so much blood could be spilled all for the sake of a Force as apathetic as the laws of physics. I think theres a point to it all."

"Let me guess, to destroy the Sith?" Isaac chuckled, "I'm sure they think the same thing, only replace Sith with Jedi."

"No, Isaac. Not to destroy the Sith," Zark shook his head, taking the other man completely by surprise, "I know, I know. It sounds crazy, doesn't it? They are my mortal enemy, and yet my purpose isn't to destroy them. Its not because I don't want to, my friend. Its because I don't believe we can.

Take history for example. Every time the Jedi have hunted the Sith to the edge of extinction, they've always resurfaced to wipe us out...almost. And on the brink of their victory, at the very end of their genocidal campaign, there have always been one or a few Jedi that have turned the tide, sent this deadly pendulum swinging in the other destruction. Is this...could this be coincidence? No, no Isaac. It is something more.

I believe that we...the Jedi and the Sith...are destined to do this forever."

"Why? If there's no victory, whats the point? Why would you fight a battle you can never win?"

"That is the point, Isaac. The hopelessness of it all, the eternal struggle, back and forth. Doesn't it remind you of anything?" Zark's eyes glimmered, and Isaac shrugged helplessly, "Never fear, my friend. I struggled with this for many years myself. I gave up hope, but I finally found the answer. It was so simple, right in front of my eyes!

The Force lives within all of us, Isaac. Not just those who are adept in controlling it. It surrounds us, binds us. And while it is attached to us, we too are attached to it. Understand, Isaac, that the Force is susceptible to the same fundamental flaw as all sentient beings. The Problem of Evil. Why is there evil in the galaxy, Isaac? Whether you believe it to be an act of a Maker, a side effect of free will, whatever your belief, the point is that it exists, and we as sentients are doomed to struggle with it within ourselves for all eternity."

"Like the Light Side and the Dark Side?" Isaac asked.

"Not just like, Isaac! You're almost there!" The glimmer in Zark's eyes burned brighter than ever, "The Light Side and the Dark Side is the struggle against evil, manifest in the Force! Whether you believe the Force created all life or not, there can be no question that this power is now bound to all organisms, and while it remains bound to us there will always be both a Light Side and Dark Side to it, just as there is a light side and a dark side to the sentient being's soul."

"So you fight the Sith because..."

"Because I have a soul," Zark finished for the other man, "And because I believe myself to be a good man, at least in my nature. I fight the Sith for the same reason all good people fight the evil within themselves, even though they may never be able to destroy it. Because as a Jedi, as an incarnation of our soul's resistance against all scourge and blight upon it, I must."

"I think I understand, but what does this have to do with me being a tool of the Force?" Isaac asked, having almost forgotten the original point.

"I believe you are a good man as well, Mr. Cain," Zark said, winking at the grimace the comment was met with, "Even if you may disagree, even if, try as you might not to take sides, you stubbornly cling to your illusions of neutrality. Think of the Force as one giant soul, a supernatural manifestation of all our souls, and each organism effects it in one way or the other. Now, obviously the Jedi and the Sith have the most effect, being the most in touch with the Force, but every organism contributes.

When you remember the battles of history, the Battle of Endor and New Order's conquest of Coruscant, the Battle of Bastion, in each of these conquests powerful Jedi or Sith were overthrown, but how much can one being, as powerful as they may be in the Force, really turn the tide of entire battles? Isaac, the Jedi and the Sith are not the only pieces on the chess board. The men and women that serve under them and alongside them, non-Force sensitives. Were it not for them, the death of the Jedi or the Sith would mean nothing.

In this sense, Isaac, you are a tool. A tool of the Force, on the side of the Light. I hope!" laughing, Zark winked at the man once more, and then his expression turned deathly serious, "For all I know, you could be an Imperial spy."

"Well, I'm not," Isaac said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Oh, I know," Zark smiled, "I've already read your mind."

And then he laughed again, this time even louder. Isaac let out a hesitant chuckle as well, but for the life of him he wasn't sure if the Jedi was joking or not. He turned back to his controls.

"Now!" Zark said almost as soon as the laughter died from his voice. Isaac jumped at the suddenness of the exclamation, "What was troubling you then?"

"Troubling me?" Isaac asked.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how this conversation started!" the Jedi chuckled softly, "Something was troubling you. This whole pleasant little chat about tools and fate and Force philosophy was just tangential!"

"Oh...right," Isaac paused, and the Jedi motioned him to continue, "Let me remember...ah, yes. A couple of things, actually."

"You said that already," Zark smirked, "Lets start with the first!"

"Whats so important on Ossus?" Isaac asked, "You've said a hell of a lot about fate and the Force guiding us, but you must know more than that. Whats our destination, our goal?"

"Not a man to follow blindly! Good, Isaac, good. I'll enlighten you, but you must understand something first."

"And that is?"

"That providing you with more knowledge brings you in deeper, smuggler," the glimmer and laughter was gone from the Jedi's expression, and this time Isaac was certain there was no joke, "The deeper you go, the more...personal your stake becomes in our success. My first and only warning. Shall I continue?"

Isaac paused. He was probably already on the Empire's hitlist. Could he afford to be caught with information they might want before they killed him? Especially with the Sith involved. But at the same time, he just couldn't follow this man he had met only on Naboo blindly. It was against his instincts.

Well, the Sith would probably torture him out of spite if he was caught anyway.

"Yes."

"I'm glad, Isaac. As much as I have no desire to endanger you, I trust you. Or at least, I trust your aura."

"My aura?" Isaac asked.

"Would you like to go into another in depth lesson on Force philosophy, or would you like your questions answered before we arrived at Ossus?" Zark asked.

"Right, sorry. Continue," his expression was sheepish.

"Very good! How up to date are you on Jedi politics, Mr. Cain?" Zark asked, "What do you know of the Order present day?"

"I know...they were a part of the New Republic before it fell...and their Temple...well, it was on Naboo. But the Empire..."

"Yes, the Empire changed that, didn't they?" Zark's eyes grew vacant, and for the first time in the conversation the rapid movement of the HoloNet feeds halted. Then, his eyes returned and he resumed his excursion into cyberspace, "But never fear! The Jedi Council closed down the Temple before the Empire arrived. The Jedi are scattered now, the Temple was abandoned. Had it not been, you would have seen perhaps a larger resistance against the Imperial forces!

Or...perhaps not. Perhaps the Jedi would have given up. They've grown soft, Isaac. Even the strongest of them. Jedi Master Leia Organa was the last of the fighters. But shes pregnant now, so the Force tells me. In no position to take up the herald of the Jedi once more. Who does that leave...who is left...I'm sorry, I haven't answered your question yet?

The Sith have taken Naboo, Isaac. The Temple is gone to us now, likely razed by the Sith. So they think! Haha, so they think. So, we head for Ossus! You know of Sear...of Gash Jiren, Isaac?"

"Who hasn't? Hero of the Republic. Hes dead now, though."

"Yes...yes, I know. He was my friend..." the HoloNet halted again, before continuing.

"I'm...sorry," Isaac grunted, kicking himself for offhanded comments, "I didn't-"

"He was my friend and my Master," Zark continued, brushing aside Isaac's comment with a wave of his hand, "And a very powerful Rogue Jedi. The Rogue Order was based on Ossus. There was an ancient Temple there, older than the Temple on Naboo and as old as the one that...used to be on Coruscant, although not quite as renowned as either. Thats where we're headed, as I told you before."

"Does the Rogue Order still exist?" Isaac asked.

"No, not anymore," Zark sighed, "It began its fall with the fall of the New Republic, and the last remnants of it died with Master Jiren. No, I'm not looking for the Rogue Order there."

"Then what?" Isaac asked, "What is at the Temple that you need?"

"Not just what I need!" Zark smiled openly, "What we need! What all the Jedi need. The catch is, it doesn't exist yet! You ask me what is at the Temple that I need? Sanctuary. The Jedi are scattered, hopelessly adrift in the outer rim. Helping wherever they can, I'm sure, but in the grand picture useless and without purpose. The largest population of them was...was in Theed. Escaped the planet, hopefully. Hunted to death by the Sith, most likely.

The Council closed the Temple because the Order had grown stagnant, Isaac. They thought that, by forcing the remaining Jedi on a sojourn across the galaxy, they would spread the Light Side. They hoped to reignite the fervor of the Order that was, but they didn't understand. There was no going back. The fervor of the Order that was has no place in a galaxy overrun with the Dark Side. There is only...endurance.

We go to Ossus to endure, Isaac. The Council, though their intentions were good, destroyed the one thing that the Jedi need now in order to survive. A sanctuary, a place to gather and endure the coming storm. Something is at hand, Isaac. I can sense it in the Force. The Jedi need a focal point if we are to survive, if we are to ever hope to be useful again.

We go to Ossus to rebuild the Jedi, to hide those that need it from the Sith and the Empire. To coordinate our efforts. To save ourselves. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes it does," Isaac nodded, "Now for number two. What is it? And what did it do to you?"

The smuggler's gaze dropped to the crystal still embedded in the Jedi's chest. Zark's smile faded ever so slightly.

"Another good question, Isaac," the Jedi nodded, "Unfortunately, with this one I'm afraid I can't be as forthcoming. Its not that I don't trust you! Its just...complicated. I'll tell you what. Ask me again when we reach the Temple. I'll tell you then. Consider it a sort of...payment."

"Very well," Isaac nodded, no longer sure he really wanted to know the answer. Anything complicated for the man sitting next to him must be...well, complicated, "Number three. What you're doing on the Net. Are you searching for them? The other Jedi?"

"What, this?" Zark motioned toward the feeds, laughing, "No no no. Trust me, if they could be found through the HoloNet, the Sith would be fast on their trail. Tracking down the Jedi will take a little more effort than this."

"Then what the skiff have you been doing for the past hour?" Isaac nearly yelled, his eyes narrowing.

"Catching up on current events," Zark answered, his expression honest, "I haven't read the news in a little more than a decade. When the fuck did the Coalition lose the Onyxian Commonwealth?"

"Are you...are you serious?" Isaac's eyes widened, "Where have you been for ten years?"

Zark motioned off toward the stars absentmindedly, "Its a long story. Maybe I'll tell you sometime. Have I answered all of your questions?"

"Almost, just one more. Whats your name?"

"My...my name? You mean..." Zark's eyes widened.

"Now its my turn to remember what you've forgotten," Isaac smirked, "I had told you mine, and you were just about to introduce yourself when the squad of stormtroopers burst into the room. We didn't have much time for pleasantries after that."

Zark stared at the man, speechless. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he began to laugh harder than the smuggler had ever heard. After a few minutes, it subsided enough for him to speak.

"I am sorry, my friend. It seems I've had you at a disadvantage all this time!" he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye, "Two names I have. One day I will have to choose who I really am, but for now I am both. One name I was given by the parents I never knew. The other I was given by monks, now long gone. Which would you like to hear first?"

Isaac looked hard at the Jedi, searching for signs of a joke. When he realized the man was serious, he sighed. Jedi... "The first."

"Arix Askrima, I was named, though I never knew it. I found my heritage only recently."

"And the second?"

"Zark Ekan, in the speech of the monks. Monotone Savior, it means. I have gone by this name my whole life. You may call me either."

"Maybe I'll stick with Jedi," Isaac said, shaking his head and turning back to the shuttle readouts, "If theres so few of you left, it'll cut down on the confusion."

Zark laughed, "Theres that sense of humor of yours. How long until we reach Ossus?"

"A little less than a day," Isaac informed him after checking the display.

The Jedi jumped to his feet, shock etched upon his face, "Why didn't you say something! I'll need every minute of it!"

He leaped out of the cockpit and sprinted down the corridor, ducking into the med bay.

"Where are you going?!" Isaac called from the helm.

There was the snap-hiss! of his lightsaber activating and the smell of burning metal. Zark reappeared, the severed robotic hand from the machine in the med bay in his left hand.

"I'm going to need to borrow this." he called to the smuggler before disappearing into his quarters and shutting the hatch behind him.

"Do you have any idea how much that cost?!" Isaac screamed in dismay.

Faintly, from within the Jedi's quarters, he heard the muffled response, "Think of the greater good!"

"Yeah well, the greater good isn't paying my bills."

Starlines faded to brilliant points of light as the shuttle reverted to realspace.

Before Isaac, the twin stars of the Adega system, Adega Prime and Adega Besh, flared brilliantly in the viewport. In between the miniscule spacecraft containing the smuggler and the Jedi Master and those two brilliant points of light lay their destination, the planet of Ossus.

It had been an agonizingly long day for the smuggler. The anticipation of their arrival at the planet his companion had nearly died to get to was only amplified by his sudden loneliness. The Jedi had been holed up in his quarters for the entire day.

The only sounds he had heard coming from that place the many times he had pressed his ear to the door was the steady hum of some sort of welding machine that the Jedi had no doubt "borrowed" from Isaac's rudimentary workshop.

Leaning back in his chair, Cain exhaled a sigh of relief. The hyperdrive had just barely managed to hold up for the duration of the journey. The smuggler didn't doubt that he wouldn't even be able to start the motivator up again without some major repair work. The thing might even explode if he tried.

His hands flying across the helm console in an almost leisurely method, Isaac took his time in plotting a slow but steady sublight course to orbit the planet. The Jedi still hadn't emerged from his quarters, and the smuggler would be at a loss if he was hailed by the planet before consulting his companion.

Almost as if in answer to his thoughts, Isaac heard the muffled sound of a hatch opening in the corridor behind him. The Jedi had emerged at last! He clambered out of his seat eagerly and swung open the hatch to the cockpit. Zark was walking down the corridor in his direction, but the Jedi's focus was not on the relieved smuggler.

Rather, his eyes remained fixed on the robotic hand that had been attached to the stump at the end of his right arm. The hand curled into a fist and then back out to a spread palm, and Isaac stared in amazement as he realized that the Jedi was controlling the movement.

The logistics of such a prosthetic surgery...and with materials as limited as...

"How the fuck..." Isaac trailed off in amazement.

Looking up at last, Zark winked at him, "A rudimentary replacement. Hopefully I'll be able to improve it once we reach the surface...and things settle down. Was that a hyperspace reversion I felt?"

"Y...yeah," the smuggler stammered, "We've arrived at the Adega system. We're en route to Ossus orbit right now."

"Excellent!" the Jedi beamed, "The motivator held up, then? Good!"

The smuggler blinked in amazement. He hadn't told the Jedi about any of the problems with the hyperdrive.

"If you'll please stand back a little," Zark motioned Isaac back into the cockpit with a wave of his robotic hand. Still reeling, the smuggler complied, "Excellent! Now, lets see if this worked the way I had hoped."

Suddenly, the prosthetic swiveled a full three hundred and sixty degrees around. The fingers immediately began to contract, folding into the palm of the hand. The palm began to turn in a spiral around until it had formed a circle and suddenly the yellow blade of a lightsaber erupted forth from what had become a hilt.

The entire process had happened almost too quickly for Isaac to process.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Zark grinned at the man's blank expression, "I know it seems impossible, especially in a day, but I've actually done this before. All I had to do was replicate it."

"You've...I'm sorry, you've done this before?"

"That...is another story for another day!" the glimmer in the Jedi's eyes faded slightly, "And not a very compelling one. Alright, the blade seems stable...on to more pressing matters!"

The lightsaber deactivated, and the palm of the robotic hand spiraled back outward, fingers expanding out as it did so. In the briefest of moments, Zark was once again clenching and uncleching his new hand once more. He gave a smile of satisfaction, and slipped past Isaac into the cockpit, settling down at the copilots seat.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Jedi called back at Isaac, who had closed the hatch before sitting at the helm.

The planet of Ossus was just coming into clear view. The twin stars glimmered behind it on either side, illuminating the planet in a sort of halo. It truly was beautiful, Isaac marvelled. But something told him that the Jedi hadn't risked everything for the view.

"Whats it like?" he asked, pulling the other man from his reverie, "On the planet itself, I mean. Gash Jiren is dead, right? So..."

"So how has Ossus held up without him?" Zark finished for him, letting out sigh, "Not so well, I'm afraid. Stagnation, isolation, petty squables and infighting...I wouldn't be surprised if Searthen was rolling in his grave. But never fear, Isaac! We're here to fix that."

"Fix...how could we possibly fix an entire planet?"

"Never underestimate the power of the Force, my friend," Zark grinned, "With it by our side, we are capable of spectacular things. Set a course for-"

"Orilcia Spaceport, right," the smuggler began to key in the coordinates before the Jedi's left, human hand gently gripped the man's wrist.

"Not where we're headed," Zark said, the metal of his robotic hand making a hollow noise as it tapped away at his own console, "I'm inputting the coordinates of our destination. Set a course for them, please."

"I've been to Ossus before, believe it or not," Isaac said, raising his eyebrows at the Jedi, "Before the New Republic fell. Orilcia is the capital, and the location of the Temple."

"Worry not, Isaac. We'll head for the Temple in due time," Zark finished keying in his coordinates, "But now, we head for Knossa Spaceport."

"Knossa Spaceport? I've never heard of it." Isaac said, setting a course nonetheless.

"I'm not surprised," Zark answered, "There are few who don't live on Ossus that have these days. Knossa was the original capital city of Ossus, and the location of the original Jedi academy and the ancient Jedi Library.

Thousands of years ago, in the midst of one of the grandest conflicts ever fought over our...Holy War, as you call it, two Sith Lords by the name of Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma detonated the stars of the Cron Cluster, once located nearby. The Jedi were forced to flee the planet before the resulting shockwave nearly eradicated all life.

Restoration efforts were just beginning when Master Jiren relocated the Rogue Order to the planet. Under his supervision, much of the planet was resurrected to its former beauty, and the capital relocated to Orilcia, where the Rogue Temple was constructed.

Searthen...Gash, thought it was best to leave Knossa alone, save it for the end of the restoration and perhaps rebuild the original foundations of the city as a memorial to wars long past and fallen Jedi. Much evil was done during that war years and years ago, and picking through the ruins would be a delicate task that would require many Rogue Jedi. The restoration was never finished, though, and the Rogue Order collapsed. Knossa remains a ruin."

"Why are we headed there, then?" Isaac asked, "The goal is still the Rogue Temple, right? What do we need at Knossa?"

"Not what, Isaac, but whom!" the Jedi answered, "I hope to enlist the aid of the...indigenous population there."

"Indigenous population?" Isaac asked, not so sure he liked the sound of that.

"The Ysanna," Zark explained, noting the lack of recognition in the smuggler's eyes, "Descendents of Jedi who never made it off the planet thousands of years ago. They degenerated into a tribal society, forgetting the ways of the Order and holding up the Force as more of a superstition than a way of life. They reside within and around the ruins of Knossa, holding the ruins of the Order in a sort of reverence. "

"They sound...dangerous," the smuggler muttered.

"They were...maybe they still are, a little," Zark admitted, "Gash went to great lengths to reach out to the Ysanna tribes. He saw them as kin to the Jedi. Long lost cousins, so to speak. He sent Jedi missionaries to the tribes in an effort to improve their way of life and their understanding of the Force. Often times Master Jiren himself would visit with their elders, sharing what knowledge he could and learning from them what he may. I have no doubt that, had he and the Rogue Order survived, the Ysanna would be fast on their way to a better way of life."

"What are they like now?" Isaac asked.

"We'll see, won't we?"

"Two fighters on our tail," Isaac's hands flew across the controls as the shuttle entered the atmosphere. He glanced at Zark, "They're hailing us."

"Ossan Navy, or whats left of it," Zark said, his eyes closed, "Don't respond. Prepare for evasive maneuvers."

"I thought you used to live here?" Isaac raised his eyebrows but didn't touch the comms, "Not even going to say hello?"

"There will be time for dealing with the Ossans," the Jedi answered, his expression a mask of serenity, "Our business lies in Knossa for now, but if I'm correct the Navy won't handle the silent treatment very well."

The shuttle screamed across the Ossan sky as the two fighters fell in formation behind them. For several moments that seemed like an eternity to the smuggler the three ships remained like this. The comm system blinked repeatedly as the fighters' attempts to hail them went unanswered.

The moment was finally broken when laser blasts flew across their viewport.

"Warning shots!" Isaac growled.

"Can you keep them off us until we reach our destination?"

"I know a few tricks," the smuggler nearly whispered as the shuttle lurched forward into a much quicker speed, "With a little maneuvering and a lot of luck I think we can make it."

The shuttle lurched suddenly to the side as more blasts flew by, narrowly missing them. These shots weren't warnings. The fighters boosted their speeds in an attempt to catch up. The smaller vessels gained rapidly on the shuttle, sending a few more near misses their way.

Cain wasn't lying when he said he knew a few tricks, and for a few minutes he managed to keep the two fighters off their tail, straining the inertial dampeners nearly to their limits. Both men felt the lurch in the pits of their stomachs as the vessel pulled off twists and turns that it wasn't designed for.

"Brace!" Isaac yelled suddenly as a laser blast skimmed the side of the shuddle, sending them lurching to the side for a few terrifying seconds.

The smuggler regained control quickly, and the pursuit continued. As they roared on through the sky he began to see the telltale blobs of a city coming into view on the horizon. Knossa. They were almost there. The helm began to blare loudly as warning screens flashed all over the console.

"Concussion missile!" Isaac relayed, sending the shuttle into several twists and turns in an attempt to shake the projectile, "Shit, I can't shake it! If you know any Jedi tricks, now would be a good time!"

Zark didn't respond, but rather sunk deeper into his state of meditation. He reached out with the Force, feeling all around him. He felt the signature of the smuggler sitting next to him, a strong sense of anxiety emanating from the man. As he reached out further, he felt the presence of the two pilots quickly closing in.

Finally, he managed to locate the missile homing in on them. His breath quickened and sweat began to slowly trickle down his face. The missile began to wobble steadily and it lost speed. Zark grit his teeth and focused harder, his hands clenching the arm rests of the chair as his brow furrowed in concentration.

The missile's wobble increased as it began to lose forward momentum rapidly. It began to lose altitude as the projectile lost its lock on the shuttle, suddenly deteriorating into a downward spiral that ended abruptly when it exploded in a dazzle of brilliant light and fire. One of the fighters had to break up to avoid flying through the explosion, but the other continued its rapid approach, firing bursts of laser fire in their direction.

Then, suddenly, it broke off, leaving its pursuers in the clear.

"They're gone!" Isaac exclaimed, confusion filling his features, "They would have had us before I could've hoped to land. Why did they leave?"

"We're entering Knossa city limits," Zark explained, a smile of satisfaction slowly creeping onto his exhausted riddled face, "No fly zone for Ossan Navy. We made it."

"Would've been useful information a little earlier," Cain grumbled to himself, "'Hey Isaac, all you have to do is reach city limits and we'll be fine.' Fucking hell...and how the skiff did you know it was a no fly zone anyway!"

"Calm, my friend," Zark mewed, his voice soothing, "To be perfectly honest, I did. It was an educated guess. Lucky for us it turned out to be accurate. Besides, if I had been so frank with you, you might have gotten lazy and blown us up."

Isaac opened his mouth in fiery retort but, casting a sidelong glance to the Jedi Master, realized that the man sitting next to him was laughing. His response died in his throat, and he began to chuckle softly as well.

A few minutes later, the shuttle set down within a huge ruin that vaguely resembled an ancient spaceport. Isaac marveled at the decrepitude around him, never realizing until now the fullest extent of what Zark had meant by 'thousands of years ago'.

"Shit..." he breathed, taking in the surroundings, "This place is...all this time, and nobody cared enough to rebuild it?"

"If only it were so easy," Zark answered, sighing, "Knossa is a testament to Ossan history. Don't think for a second that nobody cared. But...you must understand, reconstruction only began a few decades ago. The planet was uninhabitable before them, and those who call themselves true Ossans now are only distant descendants of former exiles. Most who live on the planet are settlers, arriving with the first efforts of the reconstruction and staking claim to the planet as a new home."

"But the rest of the planet is back pretty much to normal, for the most part, right?" upon receiving the affirming nod from the Jedi, he continued, "Then why not Knossa? Frell, it was the capital, wasn't it? Why save it for last? You said it'd require many Rogue Jedi...why would Jedi be needed to rebuild?"

"To understand that, you must understand why the Force works," Zark said, his gaze growing distant as he spoke, "The Force leaves...imprints upon great concentrations of energy. Think of it like radiation...it lingers. These imprints can be wellsprings of serenity and peace, like that which usually arises within Jedi Temples, or they can be...something else. A crater...of pain and suffering, torment. The Darkside.

This entire planet was nearly eradicated of all life by a disaster set into motion by the ancient Sith. And this...Knossa, was a powerful wellspring of Lightside energy. When the two struck there were inevitable...side effects."

"What kind of side effects?" Isaac asked.

Zark snapped out of his empty stare and cast the man a side long glance, "Just...stay close to me."

Those five words spoke volumes to the smuggler, and suddenly he felt cold. Anything that could worry the man sitting next to him was something that deserved his utter and complete terror. He had met Zark Ekan when he was on the run from the Sith and an entire Imperial legion, and even then the man had born a grim smile.

There was no smile upon his face, and Isaac realized that, apart from those moments in the med bay, this was the first time he had seen the Jedi's spirits considerably dampened. His hand drifted down to his blaster, as if to fend off anything lurking outside the shuttle.

Something outside the viewport caught Isaac's attention, and his eyes widened.

"There's...something out there," he said, squinting in an attempt to better perceive the docking bay floor, "I think they might be humanoid."

"I know," Zark replied, leaning back in his seat, "They're surrounding the shuttle as we speak."

"Why the fuck didn't you say anything?!" Isaac howled, his hands flying for the controls, but again Zark grabbed his wrists.

"Hold. They mean us no harm," the Jedi said, his eyes meeting the smuggler's, "If you do something...foolish, however, then that might change."

"Who...who are they?" Isaac whispered, his hand firmly gripping the butt of his blaster.

"The natives, Isaac," Zark told him, grinning, "These are the true Ossans. They are the Ysanna that I spoke of. Descendants of Jedi who survived the destruction of Ossus. And we are going out to meet them. Stay close to me. And...try not to shoot at any of them, okay?"

With that, the Jedi Master rose from his seat and left the cockpit. Isaac sat there for a few moments, fear still sending shivers throughout his body, but quickly jumped up and jogged after the other man. As terrified as he was, Zark Ekan's side was probably the safest place he could be right now.

The Jedi walked down the corridor leisurely, tossing his hand out as he passed his quarters and summoning the brown robe he had taken from the abandoned Temple on Naboo with the Force to him. Not pausing in his stride, he swirled the cloak around him and donned it, tossing the hood over his head in what had, over the years, become habit.

The boarding ramp fumed smoke as it lowered with a hiss, sending light from the ship flooding out of the shuttle to clash with the setting sunlight of the planet. Zark stood at the top of the ramp, a robed figure bathed in shadow from the two sources of light, and waited for it to reach the ground.

The Ysanna came into view before the ramp hit, primitive slugthrowers in their hands that were trained upon the Jedi. Isaac stood behind the corner, peering around it to glimpse what would happened. If Zark was gunned down, he would hit the boarding ramp controls and make a dash for the cockpit, hoping none of the men outside thought quickly enough to jump on board before the ramp raised enough to prevent it.

"Comforting thoughts..." the Jedi whispered out of the corner of his mouth, eliciting a gasp and a sheepish look upon the smuggler's face.

"Interloper!" the cry pierced the silence as a Ysanna appeared in front of those armed with slugthrowers, apparently unarmed, "State your business in our lands, and be quick! Or you shall face the fiery judgement of the Ysanna!"

Zark gave no response, but out of the corner of his eye Isaac saw a movement in the Jedi's right, robotic hand. One of the Ysanna must have seen it too, because there was the booming report of a slugthrower firing. The lightsaber came to life in a sudden crackling of energy and the projectile disintegrated as it hit the blade brought up to block it.

"Hold!" cried the leader of the Ysanna soldiers. The armed Ysanna kept their weapons trained upon the Jedi, but did not fire, "Jedi...or Sith..."

The last word came out as a biting curse, and Zark grinned to himself. They had not forgotten their roots.

This time, he spoke, "I am Jedi Master Zark Ekan, former Knight of the Rogue Jedi Order, and the last remaining Jedi loyal to the memory of Rogue Jedi Master Gash Jiren. To whom do I speak?"

"How do we know you tell the truth?!" the leader of the Ysanna cried, "This could be...Sith treachery!"

As soon as the last word escaped his mouth, a bolt of pure white electricity erupted from the Jedi's left fingertip. The beam struck the lead Ysanna as he reeled back in shock, bouncing harmlessly off of him and flowing over his companions with similar effect. The Spark of the Lightside was harmless against those pure of heart.

The docking bay flooded with whispers, and the Ysanna in front of him dropped immediately into a kneeling bow. More Ysanna emerged from various hiding spots, their slugthrowers cast upon the ground along with their prostrating bodies.

"Master Jedi!" the leader who had challenged him cried, "Forgive us! I am Okko the Wise, leader of these people! We humbly submit ourselves to your will, disciple of the Master Jedi Jiren!"

"Arise, Okko the Wise!" Zark's voice boomed out, more terrifying then Isaac had ever heard it, "Arise, all of you! Gash Jiren would not stand to see you kneel before him, and neither shall I! Arise, my friends!"

Once more, whispers flooded the area. After a long hesitation, the Ysanna Okko rose to his feet, his head still lowered as his eyes averted the Jedi standing before him. Slowly, the other Ysanna followed suit, many of them also averting their gaze.

With another swivel of his wrist, the lightsaber deactivated and the robotic hand reappeared. Zark strode down the boarding ramp and walked right up to Okko, his eyes filled with sadness as he realized the man was shaking. Gently, he lifted the man's chin with his left, human hand.

"I mean you no harm, friend Okko," Zark whispered, his voice a soothing wave of serenity, "I come in peace to your people, as a humble servant of the Jedi, of the Force. Do not fear me."

Tears formed at the edge of Okko's eyes, and he pulled Zark into an embrace, "We have kept Knossa safe for you, Master Ekan. We hoped that...that one would return. After Jiren's death..."

"I know, Okko. I know," he whispered in the man's ear, accepting the embrace and patting him gently on the back. They separated, ending the embrace, and Zark spoke louder, addressing all those around him, "I lost hope as well. They took the best of us, the one man I believed could save us all. I mourned his passing and gave up the call of the Jedi, as did the other Rogues. How could we succeed where Gash Jiren had failed?

For years I asked myself that question, and then, one day I realized that all this time I had been asking the wrong question. I shouldn't have asked how we could succeed without him. I should have asked myself that even if all hope is lost; even if this galaxy is doomed, shouldn't we at least try? Isn't that what Gash Jiren would have wanted? I don't know if I can succeed where Master Jiren could not, but I hear the Force, and it calls to me! Does it call to you?

I come to you now, and I kneel before you," at these words, Zark dropped to his knees in front of Okko, "I beg you, my friends. Will you help me? Will you honor Gash Jiren's memory? The Jedi Order is gone, Naboo has been taken by the Empire. Ossus is the galaxy's last hope, a faint glimmer in a sea of darkness. Help me, I beg you. You...we, are the Light's last hope."

For an eternity, no one spoke. Zark kneeled upon the ground, his hood cast back to reveal his face, tears forming in his eyes. The crystal pulsed underneath his robe. And then, Okko held out his hand. Tentatively taking hold of it, the Ysanna lifted Zark up to his feet.

"On behalf of the Ysanna, I say we will help you," Okko proclaimed, "Long ago, Master Jiren united the Ysanna tribes. He and his followers taught us many things, including a deeper understanding of the Force. I hear the call you hear, Master Ekan. I will help you, and my people will help you. By your side, we will fight the Darkness until our dying breaths. This I swear."

"Thank you, Okko the Wise," Zark breathed, tears flowing from his eyes freely, "I gladly accept your vow."

"What would you have us do, Master Ekan?" Okko bowed low, "We are yours to command."

"You are no one's to command, Okko," Zark said, motioning for the man to rise, "You are Ysanna, Protectors of the Light. I ask you, as a friend, to guide me to the Great Jedi Library."

The Ysanna's eyes widened in fear, "I will do as you ask, but know this! A great evil resides within those walls."

"I know," Zark responded, his expression grim, "and I'm going to destroy it."

The Ysanna had escorted them to the center of their village, a hybrid of primitive construction and creative usage of the Knossa ruins. Zark spoke at length with Okko on the way to the settlement and learned that the Ysanna were of the Yinra tribe, one of many that roamed the Ossan landscape.

The Ysanna tribes had been united when Gash Jiren had first come to the world of Ossus, helping greatly in the rebuilding process and working hard to construct the capital of Orilcia, named after the Oril tribe, the largest of the Ysanna tribes, that Gash had first come into contact with on the planet. (Dark Shadows of Wars Past)

After his death, many of the settlers who had come to Ossus under the Rogue Jedi Order's supervision had left after the Rogue Jedi Master had died, fading away into the galaxy and giving up on the once shining dream realized. Gash had built Ossus into the capital it had once been, as he had promised, but the work had died with him.

After his death, the Ysanna tribes were left to their own devices, and lines were drawn over old tribal conflicts once forgotten. The Yinra had made the pilgrimage back to Knossa in order to continue their ancient task of protecting its ruins, and maintained occasional and brief contact with the Oril tribe, one of the only tribes that had elected to remain in the capital of Orilcia.

A few months ago, the Yinra had learned through this contact that violence had broken out in Orilcia. The Ossan Parliament, the governing body made up of what was left of the settler population on Ossus, had grown at odds with the Oril tribe, denying them representation in Parliament and treating them as inferior to the settlers. After several peaceful attempts at resolution, rioting had broken out within the city and the Oril tribe had been cast out.

"Where are they now?" Zark asked Okko as the two entered the Ysanna's humble dwelling, "The Oril. I would like to speak with their leader."

"They did not travel far from Orilcia, constructing their own settlement not far from the city's outskirts," Okko answered, scratching his head in thought, "This has caused much tension between the outsiders and the Oril. There have been several skirmishes, so I have heard."

"Oh Searthen...why did you have to leave us?" the Jedi mumbled to himself, burying his face in his hands in much frustration, "So much was lost with you."

Okko placed a comforting hand upon the Jedi's shoulder, a tear rolling down the old shaman's eyes as he did.

"He was the Destined," Okko whispered, drawing Zark's face out from their resting place, "He was supposed to lead us, to guide us in rebuilding this world. It was foretold. He was not supposed to-to..."

The man trailed off, more tears streaming down his face. Zark had heard of the Ysanna's reverence for the Rogue Jedi Master in passing during his time on Ossus. He had chuckled and chalked it up to tribal superstition, but the more he thought about it now, the more he realized that in many ways Gash had been the Destined of their prophecy.

"But he did. He gave his life defending this world, and many others. He was taken from us," Zark's voice began to crack, a few tears forming at the edge of his eyes as well, "But his purpose, his destiny cannot die with him, Okko. Its up to us to carry on his legacy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Ekan," Okko bowed his head low.

"Please, Zark," the Jedi waved his hand at the man, "And no bowing. I hold as much belief in reverence of leaders as Jiren did."

"Yes...Zark," Okko said, the slightest hint of a bow evident in his head's movement. He opened his mouth to speak again, but another Ysanna burst in, rushing over to the annoyed Okko and mumbling in his ear. Okko's eyes widened, and he offered a questioning look to the man. The man nodded.

"Okko?" Zark asked, suddenly sensing a presence outside that seemed...familiar...and so strong.

Okko muttered something, half-heard by Zark, but he recognized the language to be Oril, one of the main Ysanna tongues. The other Ysanna nodded and left briefly, returning shortly with two others.

"It seems the timing of our conversation was good," Okko explained to the Jedi, motioning toward the two hooded figures, "Mast-Zark, I present to you-"

"Teros Tre'Na," one of the figures interjected, throwing back his cowl to reveal his Caamasi physiology, "We met briefly before, years ago. And this-" he motioned to the figure next to him, a Ysanna now that his hood had been removed as well, "-is Telrec, leader of the Oril tribe."

"Tre'Na..." Zark echoed, his eyes wide, "Jedi Master Teros Tre'Na?"

"Yes," the Caamasi stated simply.

"I remember you well, Master Tre'Na," Zark said as he stood abruptly, bowing low to the Jedi Master, "Searthen always spoke highly of you. I was told you have been here a long time."

"You were told correctly. Over five thousand years, I have lived on Ossus," Teros smiled, and he glanced toward Telrec, "Watching over the Ysanna for many of them."

"He reminds me of him," Telrec said suddenly in the Oril tongue, which Zark found to his amazement that he understood, even after all these years, and much better than his rudimentary grasp of it of old, "Of the first time we met."

"Yes, it does seem to be so," Teros responded, smiling again as he gazed at Zark, "Ah, careful now. He seems even keener at Oril than he was."

"I still remember from my time on Ossus," Zark spoke in somewhat halting Oril, drawing a stare from both Telrec and Okko. The Jedi turned to regard the leader of the Oril tribe, "Who do I remind you of?"

"Whom do you think, Master Ekan?" Teros interjected, and Zark knew.

"I've been compared to many things during my years," Zark chuckled nervously, "But never to Searthen Jiren."

"Nevertheless, you remind me of him in many ways. Especially you aura," Teros nodded, as if to himself, "Yes...much like his was. Troubled, haunted, but full of hope. Full of life. Even I, taught by the ancient Jedi Order, quickly took him for his word when he told me that he had escaped the clutches of the Dark Side. I could sense it in him, against all I was taught."

"You flatter me, Master Tre'Na," Zark bowed his head in respect, "May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of this reunion?"

"I sensed your presence the moment you entered the system," Teros explained, taking a seat at the table and motioning the others to do the same, "It is not often we receive Jedi Masters visiting, not since the funeral. You seemed to experience some trouble with the Ossan Navy on the way in, and I was hoping to render assistance, but it seems you made it out well enough. Now, however, I sense a purpose for your visit. And something about you..."

Saying nothing, Zark undid the front of his robe and pulled it open at the chest, revealing the crystal embedded in his body, pulsing with a strong white glow. The Caamasi's eyes widened at this, his eyes moving rapidly from the crystal to the other Jedi's eyes, a mixture of utter surprise and terror deep within them.

"Do you know what it is?" Zark asked, his voice grown deadly serious.

"I...yes, but how..."

"Naboo has fallen," the Jedi explained, eliciting a pained sigh from the alien, "The Sith took it with an Imperial regiment a few days ago. The Temple burns. I couldn't let it fall to them...I had to escape with it. Do you understand?"

The Caamasi nodded dumbly.

"And do you understand what I must do?" Zark asked.

"Yes," he said, his eyes drifting back down to the crystal, "I will do everything in my power to aid you."

"Thank you, Master Tre'Na," Zark breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing visibly in his chair and fastening his robe together, "Okko and a few of his men were preparing to guide me to the Library, and I think I could use your help."

"The evil there...it is great, Master Ekan," the Caamasi said, his expression deeply troubled, "I will help you the best I can, but I do not know if we can purge that place. Thousands of years of torment lay imprinted upon it...and something else, as well."

"I know," Zark said, a grim smile forming upon his face, "And I know what it is. I will purge that place, Teros. I must, for him if not for Ossus."

"Yes, for Jiren," Teros nodded, the doubt in his eyes clearing.

All in the dwelling echoed the call, "For Jiren!"