Zark drifted in and out of consciousness several more times before he was brought before Michael. He suffered through no more visions, instead enduring another experience he had never gone through before. It was, in the most literal of senses, an out of body state. He stood next to his own physical, unconscious self, and witnessed the events that followed.

Their shuttle was tractored into the vessel’s hangar. As soon as the vessel lost manual control and was instead manipulated by the capital ship, the door to the room he laid in slid open and Ainam entered. He said nothing, did not even cry. He silently pulled up a chair, sat next to Zark’s physical body, and began to mutter in his native Noghri tongue. It did not take long for Zark to realize that the Jedi was praying.

Knowing some of the alien’s history, Zark could not help but wonder how long it had been since Ainam had spoken those words and actually meant them. He reached forward to place a comforting hand on the Noghri’s shoulder, and half-marveled when it went straight through his shoulder and his entire body. Waving it around a little, Zark realized his out of body state was complete.

He said nothing, not bothering to test and see if the Noghri could hear him. What purpose would it serve? Only to confuse those who entered to take Zark and Ainam into custody on board the capital ship. As he thought on the subject, there was a sudden shudder as the ship set down onto the docking bay floor. The landing ramp depressurized and lowered itself automatically, and soon after Zark could hear the clanking of footsteps in the ship.

The door slid open at last and in came…droids. Five humanoid shaped droids. But they were more advanced than any Zark had ever seen before, save perhaps the ultra expensive HRDs that were enjoyed only by the rich and famous of the galaxy. Their limbs moved fluently, akin to humans more so than jerky protocol droids. Each held in their hands blaster rifles of a design similar and yet wholly different from anything Zark had ever seen before. Their eyes glowed with an understanding that unnerved him.

He fully believed them capable of wielding the weaponry effectively.

And, lastly, came someone who was not a droid. Someone Zark had been waiting his whole life to meet but did not know it. Someone who bore such a striking resemblance to him…to the body he once had…that it was a wonder they were not twins. Someone altogether deserving of the Askrima name in a way that even he never could be. There was an understanding in the man’s eyes. Not cold and methodical like the droids surrounding him but…compassionate and honest.

The first time he had ever laid his eyes upon his brother and he was unconscious, unable even to say hello.

“Please, you must help him!” Ainam cried, “I’m trying as hard as I can to keep him alive, but he needs medical attention!”

For the first time, Zark realized exactly what Ainam had been doing. The prayers had served as a focus, channeling the Noghri’s thoughts toward healing Zark with the Force. In his out of body state, his connection with the Force was weak. He could not sense things as easily. Ainam and his brother were faint blips on his radar and the droids, usually a strange and simplistic flutter, were untouchable. As if they weren’t there.

Zark turned toward Michael, and could tell that a million questions were floating in the man’s head. But instead of stopping Ainam to question him, he motioned to two of the droids.

“Quickly, bring the stretcher,” he commanded, and the droids obeyed, filtering silently out of the room. Two more droids entered soon after to take their place.

“Thank you…” Ainam managed.

“You said you’re doing your best to keep him alive,” his brother said, “How?”

Ainam sat there, hesitant. His eyes betrayed his unwillingness. Zark focused his mind on Ainam’s, channeling all of his thought power into the Noghri’s. He hoped that he could get the message through, if it were simple enough.

Tell him. he screamed inside the Noghri’s head.

Whether the Noghri had gotten the message or not, he did.

“The Force,” he admitted, his eyes shimmering, “I’m using the Force to heal him.”

“Jedi or Sith?” the man’s question was immediate, almost as if he had been expecting the previous answer. And it was straight to the point.

“My master and I do not believe in such archetypes,” Ainam explained, “But if you must use them to understand where we lie, we would be Jedi.”

“Protectors of truth and justice throughout the galaxy,” his brother said aloud. Zark grinned to himself. Then he had been taught well of such matters. He was a good man.

“We do our best,” Ainam grinned in spite of himself. In spite of the situation.

The two replacement droids backed out into the corridor, and the two originals came in bearing a stretcher and an IV. They set it up quickly and efficiently, and held it parallel to the table on which Zark lay. Obediently, they waited for further instruction.

“Help me get him on the stretcher,” his brother asked more than told Ainam.

One of the droids started forward, as if alarmed. Zark furrowed his brow. A remarkably human gesture for a droid.

“Stand, VCM,” his brother commanded, “They are friends, and guests of the Protectorate.”

The Protectorate? Zark had thought this was Hapes Consortium space. Ainam and the man lifted his body onto the stretcher, and one of the droids injected the IV into his arm. All of the sudden, a feeling unpleasantly similar to a hangover overwhelmed him, and the entire world as he saw it evaporated in the blink of an eye. When his eyes reopened, he was looking up from a laying position at the back of a droid.

He realized that he had regained conscious temporarily with the injection of the IV. His hand swung out, but it was clumsy. He was losing control of his motor functions. His hand found its purchase, however, on the arm of his brother. The droids all around him tensed up, their grips on their blasters tightening. His brother halted them, however, and leaned in close. He understood. Perceptive man.

“Your…” he gasped out, struggling with each word, “Your…name?”

“My name is Michael,” he smiled, and through the curtness of his expression Zark could feel a warmth there beyond his expectations, “You should rest.”

“Michael…” Zark echoed, his voice weakening, “I…am…Arix. Arix Askrima…I am your…brother.”

“Then rest, brother,” Michael said replied, gripping his hand tightly, “Rest.”

He did not believe him. At least not completely. But he would, Zark knew. And with that thought in mind, he lost consciousness.

His mind was a blur as they moved from the shuttle to the medical bay of the ship. Questions, speculations, and a thousand other thoughts whizzed throughout his mind until his brain felt like he was going to overload. He was over processing everything around him and he didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was silent on the way. The alien, who was definitely not Cree’Ar, seemed too concerned for his “master” to be of much use in questioning.

When the alien had first used the word during the communication, Michael had feared the man to be a slave. After the revelation that they were Jedi, the word took on an altogether different meaning. Michael had studied the history of the Jedi and their Order in great detail. He was Force sensitive, this much he knew. But these were the first he had actually encountered.

So far, they did the legends justice. Finding their vessel in the middle of the Transitory Mists was a one in a trillion chance, but the fact that they were Force users went a long way to explain it. They must have sensed him. Or at least the master, his supposed brother Arix Askrima, had. Michael still did not believe it, but he would have the VMD run the test anyway, just to be sure.

They arrived in the medical bay. Michael had had his doubts of the practicality of a medical bay in a capital ship run almost entirely by droids, but thanked KNG-320 now for convincing him. The droid had been concerned for his own safety, not passing travelers. But it ended up working out for the best in the end.

The droids brought the stretcher right next to the cot and two more lifted Arix’s body and set him down on the bed. As soon as they were gone, the VMD unit began its work. Its limbs were a blur as it immediately began connecting tubes and plugs, taking scans and reading displays. Injecting syringes and more. The VMD was as efficient as an entire team of human doctors. And always precise.

Michael moved over to the alien, who stared at Arix and the VMD intently. He placed a hand on his shoulder gently, eliciting a slight jump.

“Come with me,” Michael whispered. Defiance rose in the alien’s eyes, and Michael interrupted him before he could object, “There is nothing more you can do for him here. I promise you, this droid is one of the best doctors in the known galaxy. If any sentient can save his life, it can. I need to ask you some questions, please. I am sure your master would want you to tell me what you can, especially if he is my brother.”

The alien hesitated, and for a moment Michael feared that the alien would still object. Then, he sighed and nodded.

“Very well.”

They left the medical bay and traveled to Michael’s quarters, which were located not far away on the vessel. Two droids followed them from the medical bay, and when they entered the room the droids followed. Michael turned to them.

“You may remain outside,” Michael commanded, “The door will remain open.”

The droids hesitate, and then nodded in confirmation.

“They hesitate when orders are given,” the alien commented, taking the seat Michael gestured toward, “They must be malfunctioning.”

“There is no malfunction,” Michael grinned, “They are merely parsing the cortex for confirmation of my orders.”

“They should be able to do that instantaneously,” he reasoned.

“It is a very, very large databse,” Michael explained, “And very far away, light years.”

“Then in that case, the database must be…” Ainam trailed off.

“Very, very large,” Michael reiterated, and smiled, “I will explain in depth later, if you prove to be allies. And honest.”

The alien grasped the meaning.

“Ask your questions, then,” he bowed his head in difference, “I will answer truthfully to the best of my capability.”

“What is your name?”

“My name is Ainam Yzarc,” the alien replied.

“Species?”

“I am Noghri.”

“Ah...from Honoghr,” Michael nodded.

Ainam flinched.

“Honoghr was destroyed,” he explained, “By the Empire. During the first war against the Rebellion.”

“Ah, I am sorry,” Michael frowned, “Much of what I know of the galaxy was learned through a computer.”

“There is so much to you that is unique…and incredible,” Ainam said, staring at him, “I can sense this.”

“I have not lived a…normal human life, no,” Michael admitted, “All in time, Ainam Yzarc of the Noghri. I will answer your questions, but first you must answer mine. How did you find us?”

“My master gave me the coordinates,” Ainam answered, “It was against my better judgment that I took him here.”

“Oh?” Michael raised his eyebrows, “Why is this?”

“Because of his injuries,” Ainam explained, “We were not far from medical facilities capable of saving him. But he commanded me to take him to these specific coordinates. He…needed to be here, for some reason. But in travelling here his condition deteriorated to…he might not survive. He probably won’t survive…because of me…”

“Your master gave you these exact coordinates,” Michael mused, “And where was that?”

“In orbit around Coruscant,” Ainam said.

Michael’s eyes widened.

“How did he…”

“I have no idea,” Ainam shrugged, “I was hoping you could tell me, to be honest. He did not explain much. He just needed to be here. He needed to see you…”

“Coruscant, that is an Imperial world,” Michael pondered, “Is that where he sustained his injuries?”

“Yes,” Ainam nodded, “He was fighting Jedi Corps.”

“Jedi Corps.?” Michael glared, “I thought you were Jedi.”

“We are!” Ainam’s eyes widened, “The Jedi Corps. are Dark Jedi, only disguised under a prettier name and lackeys for the Empire. They ‘protect and serve’ by policing the Imperial populace.”

“The Empire is evil,” Michael mused, “It makes sense that they would do this.”

“You really did learn everything from a computer, didn’t you?” Ainam wondered aloud.

“And my teacher,” Michael nodded, and winked. It seemed almost a practiced expression, “Also a robot. Why were you on Coruscant?”

“We were infiltrating the Jedi Corp. Temple,” Ainam explained, “Zark had received a vision from the Force. We were on a holy mission to recover an artifact. For what purpose, I do not know. Is there a problem?”

Michael controlled himself.

“I am sorry,” he said, “I have…painful memories associated with Sith artifacts. I have lost…friends to them. Where is this artifact?”

“I have it with me,” Ainam said, “But you have nothing to fear. This is a Jedi artifact, stolen by the Sith from the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant.”

“Good,” Michael nodded, “So it does not destroy capital ships?”

Ainam gaped.

“As I said…I have lost friends,” Michael said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Ainam replied, “Or at least, I doubt it. I don’t know exactly what it does, to be honest. Only Arix knows that, if anyone. I have answered your questions, now may I return to my master?”

“One more question, and you may return to him,” Michael said, and the Noghri nodded in compliance, “Is he really my brother?”

“I do not know,” Ainam admitted, “But I do know that he believes he is your brother. And master is very rarely wrong, especially with things this important. If he believes you to be his brother, then I believe him to be your brother.”

[font=Lucida Console]“The results from the test on Detainee-1 have arrived, Michael.”[/font]

Ainam jumped at the sound, and looked around startled.

“Relax, friend Ainam,” Michael smiled, “It is only the ship.”

“…only the ship?”

“It looks as if we are about to find out the answer, Ainam Yzarc,” Michael said, “VOW-1, what are the results?”

[font=Lucida Console]“Results returned: negative for DNA match. You are not related to Detainee-1.”[/font]

A pang of something…disappointment?...arose in Michael’s gut.

“Then he is mistaken,” Michael sighed, “I am sorry, friend Ainam. His journey was in vain.”

“Actually,” Ainam interjected, “That doesn’t exactly prove anything.”

“I do not understand,” Michael said, “It proves that he is not my brother. What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a very long story,” Ainam said, “And I don’t know all of it myself. But I will tell you what I know.”

A droid entered before Ainam could.

“VMD-1 wished me to inform you that Detainee-1 has awoken, sir,” the droid said.

“Thank you, VCM-17,” Michael nodded, “We will be there shortly. Ainam?”

“Perhaps its better if he explains it to you,” Ainam nodded, and they headed toward the medical bay.

Varex sat in the darkness of his quarters, meditating. It had been converted to a cell, the door inoperable from the inside and none of the consoles working. He was a prisoner at the moment, but he did his best not to let that bother him. He had touched upon the Prophet’s emotions during their discussion. Not enough to invade the human’s privacy, but enough to know his general emotions. The Cree’Ar had expected to find rage, contempt, hatred. But instead Varex Tarien had touched upon this Lord Michael and he had felt pity, mercy, and caution.

Michael was not sure if he believed him. He did not know if he could trust him. Varex understood that. If Michael let him live, he could gain his trust in time. He needed to. He would aid Michael in his work for the Protectorate. He would give him all the information that he possessed. But for now, he would wait for Michael to come to him.

That is, he was going to wait for Michael to come to him, until he sensed the presence of the Jedi. Varex remembered his old life, his false life, and remembered the contempt he once held for the Jedi. For all wielders of the Cor’ai’var in this galaxy. The old Varex had hated them all for using the will of Borleas Queyvar without knowing it for what it was. He now understood that the will of Borleas Queyvar was a gift to all sentients, whether they knew of him or not. But the old Varex was much more…discriminate.

The old Varex, while hating the Sith for their heresy, respected them for what he had at the time perceived to be the “proper” use of the Cor’ai’var, for gains of power and dominance over others. He had held Jedi, on the other hand, in the utmost contempt for their weak-minded philosophy on its best use. But he had changed since then. So now how did he feel?

He reflected on this in his meditation, and during that time Zark was carried into the medical bay. When Michael had begun to question Ainam, Varex had come to the conclusion that Jedi were to be respected, just as Michael was to be revered and the Andozians to be loved as brothers. The Sith, he hated more now than he did during his brief time on Xa Fel.

Varex’s mind brushed against the mind of the more powerful Jedi. His mind was strong, stronger than even Varex, but his body was weak, dying. His mind must be incredibly powerful for it to remain so strong even in a weakened physical state. Varex was overwhelmed with curiosity, and he probed deeper. As he did so, the familiarity of this Jedi’s mind struck him with a most extreme case of déjà vu. There was something about him that was so utterly familiar.

And then he understood.

“Robots, robots!” he cried, and leapt to the door. He began to pound on it.

After a moment, it slid open, and a blaster rifle was pointed in his face.

“You are to remain in your quarters until Michael comes to see you,” the robot ordered.

“Please, robots!” Varex pleaded, “I must speak with Lord Michael! It is a matter of the utmost importance! Please, I must speak with him!”

“Michael is occupied with pressing matters,” the robot answered, “The nature of which I cannot inform you. He is not to be disturbed.”

“It is about the Jedi that are aboard!” Varex cried, “Please, I must speak to Michael!”

The robot paused for a moment, and then spoke.

“How do you know of them?” it asked.

“The Cor’ai’var told me of them!” Varex answered, near hysterics.

“Who is the Cor’ai’var?” the robot asked, blaster rifled raised slightly, “How are you speaking with him?”

“No, no, robot!” Varex pleaded, “The Cor’ai’var….in this galaxy, it is called the Force!”

“You are a Force user?” the robot asked.

“Yes, robot,” Varex nodded, “Michael knows this. But I must speak with him, please!”

The robot paused for a moment.

“Follow me,” it commanded finally, “If you make a single aggressive maneuver, I will eliminate you.”

“I am afraid I am unable to fully process what is happening, sir,” the droid chattered as they entered the medical bay.

“Elaborate,” Michael commanded, “Something is anomalous with his wounds?”

“His injuries are not the anomalies, sir,” the droid said, “Burn marks from blaster wounds, and some perhaps from contained exposure to extreme heat. I would hypothesize these latter injuries are the result of lightsabers.”

“Then what is wrong?” Michael asked.

“I cannot process how he is awake,” the droid explained, “A human being is incapable of sustaining consciousness after this degree of physical damage, and without proper treatment for as long as his companion has claimed. I can only hypothesize that his companion has misinformed you of the time during which the patient was wounded.”

Michael turned to regard Ainam.

“He is a Jedi,” Ainam offered, showing no hints of offense, “A very determined Jedi.”

“Sir, that is not all,” the droid said, gesturing toward Zark, “After conversing with the patient briefly, he is alarmingly coherent for one in such a state. Regardless of travel time, such coherency doesn’t seem physically possible even immediately after the infliction of injuries. This does give some credit to his companion’s hypothesis.”

“You spoke to him?” Michael asked, “What did he say?”

“He answered all of the questions he could with regard to his injuries,” the droid said, “And then he asked for his brother. After further clarification, it would appear he was referring to you, sir. Likely some local custom we are unfamiliar with.”

“Thank you, VMD-1,” Michael nodded curtly toward the droid, “That will be all.”

“Of course, sir.”

Michael moved past the droid and took a seat next to Zark. The Jedi’s eyes cracked open, and held Michael’s gaze. He wanted to tell him of his error, explain to him that he had been incorrect. He wanted to apologize for disappointing him and promise to do all he could to save his life. But in those brief couple of seconds during which their gazes locked, all of that fell away, and Michael felt completely certain that, despite the medical analysis and despite the sheer improbability of it, this man was his brother.

Zark opened his mouth to speak, and only mumbled quietly.

“I cannot hear you,” Michael said softly, his voice doing its best to shift from its normal monotone to a soothing bedside manner, “You must rest.”

The Jedi’s eyes only widened and he shook his head. He tried to speak again, this time managing one word audible enough to be heard.

“Ainam…”

“I understand and obey, Master Arix,” Ainam had taken a seat in a char on the opposite side of the bed. He closed his eyes and began to mumble. The Noghri’s hand grasped Zark’s tightly, and Michael watched in amazement as the soft glow of blue light passed through their arms as if underneath the skin.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

Ainam did not answer, but Zark did.

“He is…helping me,” the man once too weak to even speak said now, quite clearly.

“Healing you?” Michael asked, “Through the Force?”

Zark shook his head, a look of pain in his eyes, not physical but emotional.

“No, not healing me,” he sighed, and then explained, “It is too late for me. Even now, I am dying from my wounds. He is…giving my his life...to delay my own death.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Michael said.

“It is,” Zark admitted, “If he does it for too long, we will both die. Thankfully, I don’t need much time. Though I wish I could have just a little longer…to get to know my only brother.”

“Arix…there’s something I need to tell you,” Michael sighed. Here it goes. How would this man, who had sacrificed his own life to see the wrong man, respond? “I am not your brother…the DNA results…”

“They came back negative?” Zark asked, and chuckled. It ended in an explosive cough, “I knew they would.”

“You knew?” Michael asked, “And you still claim to be my brother?”

“There is not enough time to explain,” Zark said, “Have one of your…droids…bring me a datapad with access to the HoloNet. Quickly. I must prove to you that I speak the truth.”

“I do not understand,” Michael sighed, but he gave the order to one of the VCM’s standing guard, “How can you be my brother if your DNA tells us you are not?”

“As I said, there is no time to explain,” Zark reiterated, “Suffice to say that this body…was not the body I was born in.”

“Now I definitely do not understand,” Michael shook his head, “How did you change bodies?”

“I’m not going to say it again,” Zark gave another half laugh half cough, “But I will get you the proof you require.”

“How?” Michael asked.

“By getting you my DNA,” Zark explained.

The VCM Michael had sent away returned with the datapad. Michael offered it to Zark, then realized that would be difficult.

“Set it to voice activation,” Zark ordered, “Please, hurry.”

“Done,” Michael held the datapad up to Zark’s mouth.

“Access Local HoloNet of the planet Ossus, Aldega system,” Zark commanded.

[font=Lucida Console]“Processing request…confirmed.”[/font]

“Access Rogue Jedi Order Database.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Processing request…error. Detail error report?”[/font]

“Negative,” Zark commanded, “Access Ossan Defense Forces Database.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Processing request…confirmed. Please state your identity.”[/font]

“General Zark Ekan.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Please state proper access code.”[/font]

“Alpha Zeta Omega dash Two Two Eight Nine.”

“General Zark Ekan?” Michael raised his eyebrow.

“Zark Ekan was the name given to me by the monks who raised me,” Zark explained, “It was some time before I discovered my real first name, and even longer before I discovered our last. As for the General…it was a long time ago.”

[font=Lucida Console]“-firmed. Access granted. Welcome, General Ekan.”[/font]

“Access DNA samples of all Ossan Defence Force soldiers,” Zark commanded.

[font=Lucida Console]“Processing request…confirmed. Which sample would you like to access, General Ekan?”[/font]

“My own.”

[font=Lucida Console]“DNA Sample accessed.”[/font]

“Prepare sample for download onto this datapad.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Processing request…override code required.”[/font]

“Arix.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Access granted. Download commencing…complete.”[/font]

“Okay, now I believe you,” Michael admitted, then grinned and clarified, “About the name, that is. I assume you want this DNA sample tested?”

“Yes,” Zark said, his voice pleading, “We will talk again when you know.”

“Arix-” Michael began, but Zark slumped back into his pillow and Ainam jerked in his chair, his eyes snapping open as he gasped, “Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’ll be…fine,” Ainam nodded, “Just…drained…be okay.”

“VMD-1, check him to make sure,” Michael ordered, “VOW-1, I have another DNA sample I’d like you to test against mine.”

[font=Lucida Console]“Yes, Michael.”[/font]

“And make it a priority. We have little time.”

Waiting was the most difficult part. It was only a few minutes, but to Ainam it felt like an eternity. What would the results show? Was this Michael truly Arix’s lost brother, or was his master suffering delusions from his wounds? He had faith in the Jedi who had taught him everything he knew about being a decent person, but he could not help but wonder at the possibility. The chances of it being true were just so…astronomical.

He sat beside his master’s bed, lost in contemplation. He stared at and through Arix, his mind a million miles away and right in the room at the same time. What would he do if Arix were to die? He had pledged his life to serving his master, to following him on the ever-lasting crusade against evil. What would he do without Arix Askrima as a guiding beacon of hope?

He would carry on, Ainam knew.

There was nothing else he could do. He had pledged himself not just to follow his master, but to become a Jedi and redeem his past actions. The Noghri shuddered as he remembered his time as a Dark Jedi. They were not memories he remembered with particular fondness. Arix had found him when he had lost everything, had seen through his hatred and frustration, and helped him become a good hearted soul.

How could he ever repay the man for that? And how could he bear to watch him die, knowing he might have been able to save him?

“Ainam…” came a faint whisper from the bed. Ainam’s eyes focused once more on the Jedi, and realized that his eyes were cracked open.

“Arix?” he whispered, “I am here, Arix.”

“The Force…” he struggled with the words as he said them, “…has a plan. Balance…must be…maintained. A light…winks out…in the night sky…and another…replaces it…”

“I could’ve saved you, master,” Ainam whispered, a tear forming in the corner of his eye, “I failed.”

“Everything has…reason…” Zark gasped out, his voice weak, “Even my…death. A necessary…sacrifice. The way of…the Jedi. You have not…failed me, Ainam. You…exceeded my…highest expectations. You are…Jedi.”

“I am your servant, master,” Ainam’s voice took on a pleading tone, “I cannot watch you die.”

“Then there is…only one thing…that can be…done,” Zark whispered, “Ainam…Yzarc. I release you…from my service…and hereby…promote you…to Jedi Knight. You are…and always have been…my equal.”

“But master-”

“I am…no longer your…master,” Zark coughed hoarsely, “Jedi Ainam…I have one more…favor to ask you.”

“Anything, Arix,” Ainam’s eyes glowed with anticipation, “What do you need?”

“Do you…have it?” Zark asked, “The…artifact?”

“Yes, Arix,” Ainam produced it from his robes, “It is here.”

“Good,” Zark nodded, “When the…time comes…hold it to me. I have…my favor…to ask now.”

“Yes?”

“Jedi Ainam,” Zark gasped, “You must…watch me die.”