Running…. Running. Constant running. He had been running for days now, three? Four? Memory was thick, hard to reach. He only stopped for water, and the occasional meal, or quick nap.

Urgency. Something was poking, prodding him on. Like a red hot Tliak spear, it told him to keep moving.

Hot, so very hot. The sweat ran freely, when there was sweat to run.

Sound… there, to his left.

Snap of a stick, brush of a tree. Not natural, that sound. That sound, the sound of a human.

A grim smile.

They could have least sent someone good against him. Not some child who had not completed the hunter’s rite. He stood, and began to silently creep toward the source of the sound. His knife was out. He would make an example of this one, an example they would not soon forget.

Swish

The arrow brushed his nose, taking off a small piece of flesh. Whirling, turning, recondition. Trapped, like a dog. A score of men, an ambush. The arrows, they came. Seeking his heart, his gut.

“NOOO!!!” Tobal sat up straight as a board. The darkness surrounded him, pressing in on every side. Yet still, his eyes could pick out the slightly familiar signs of his quarters. A dream, it had only been a dream.

Yet… the dream had been so real…

A sweaty arm swept over his face. The sweat was there. Sudden stings of pain, making him yelp again. His nose stabbed him again, telling him something was wrong.

“Lights” The room flooded with a dim, yet gradually increasing, light. That was one advantage to living among this religion.
Rolling out of bed, and moving over to the washstand, Tobal peered into the mirror. Blood, blood was dripping off of his nose. A smear of it went across the left side of his face, up the highly defined cheekbones. “Blood…”

Grabbing a towel off of the wall Tobal quickly wiped his nose off, as well as his face. It was just a small nick, and would heal within a few days. But, blood… he had not received an injury for the last two weeks of his staying here with this religion. And now, now he had received a filta, an injury by dream. Perhaps the people of his village were calling him home. Perhaps.

He was too high strung to sleep now. His body told him that it was early morning here on this floating world. Too early for the students to be up and about; and too late for the last shift of guards to be attentive. They would be thinking only of sleep now. It would be an easy matter for him to leave his quarters, and go to the combat rooms.

His door opened with a decompressing of air, and he glanced right and left quickly. The way was clear, just as his ears had told him from the inside. He jogged to the left, his feet hitting the steel floors with incredible silence. It was easy to be silent where there was no leaves, or dried wood to crack under foot. Tobal’s long hair flowed behind him, bundled with a single thin cord of leather. It hung down halfway to his waist, and was as thick as anyone’s in his village. Loose white clothing supplied by the people aboard this floating world made him look like a floating ghost.

Coming to a three way split, he waited, listening. Not a sound. Minutes passed, and still no sound. Tobal frowned. This wasn’t normal. He poked his head out, glancing all three ways. Not a breath of life. The frown deepened. Turning right he increased his running speed. Still silent he sped down the hallway, hair streaming out behind him. Not a guard in site, not a single sound besides the air whistling around his ears.
The combat training chamber appeared in front of him, and he entered. No one here, either. This was highly abnormal.

The training room was enormous, marking in at two hundred meters long by an equal width and height. Vyktor had told him that they sometimes held mock wars here, with the guards and students. Mock war, these people were strange. War was not something to take lightly. People died for reasons most could not comprehend. He could understand fighting, but…. war.
Tobal blinked, and shook himself. It was time for a little exercise.
Walking over to a control panel, he placed his palm on a scanner. The unit blinked once, then came to life. He selected unarmed combat, and then designated five combat droids. Weapons, standard light combat. Their settings were placed to “Alert Humanoid”.

A door slid open, and five droids walked out, their hands at their sides. They walked in, and glanced about. Seeing no one, they began to meander about. Two went north, walking together, while the remaining three split up and went south.

Tobal sat in a small corner, observing the droids. Incredible, these synthesized life forms. They did not think themselves, yet they were able to emulate human movement. The two going north approached his position, chatting a pre-recorded conversation. Tobal ignored their speech; he had heard it before. The time to strike was coming up fast.

They were now parallel to his position, and ten meters out from it. Like a ghost the tribal was over the crate, and began his sprint.
8 meters.
The two droids continued on their way, both still chatting their pre-recorded speech.
6 meters.
One of the droids registered a slight sound. It’s head began to turn.
3.5 meters
Both droids were turning.
Tobal dropped, going into a slide along the smooth floor. His speed carried him into the droids feet with enough velocity to carry him under.
The first droid began to lift his arms in a defensive position, but he was hampered by the “humanoid” protocol. No android speed in this session. His feet, as well as those of his counterparts, were swept out from underneath them.
-2 meters.

The two droids fell to the ground, making a great deal of noise as they did so. Tobal rolled slightly, and placed his bare feet on the floor. His momentum carried him to a standing position, and he continued to run.

Smooth motions Tobal. Fighting is like a dance. It must be smooth, and graceful. Go from one movement to another like honey. The words of his father came to him, and left.

Already he was turning to finish off the two downed droids. One of them was rising; the other had a red light blinking on its head. Death by collision of the floor. Pitiful.

Tobal’s left hand moved like lightning; yet was smooth. His right followed, and the first droid fell, a red light blinking on its neck. In real life this human would die by asphyxiation, its windpipe crushed.

The three droids going south were now moving north, running. They had heard the sound of the two falling. Tobal brushed his hair to the side, and bent over the two fallen droids. One hand touched the head of each, and he murmured something. He then took their knives, ignoring the hold-out blasters. Standing to receive his three guests, he began another movement in his dance.

The third droid stuttered, red light blinking around the knife hilt in its chest. The other two pulled up their attack, and went for their blasters. Tobal ignored them, and continued to move. He slid behind the third droid, twisting himself to catch it from falling. Two stun bolts hit the dead droid, square in the chest. Allowing the now doubly dead droid to fall, having never stopped moving, Tobal threw his second knife. Not even bothering to watch it fly, he lept. Flying forward, feet out, Tobal fixed his eyes on the fourth droids blaster. Time seemed to slow down, and he felt the droid shoot him in the chest. Rolling, falling, sliding. The bolt missed his chest by a millimeter, and Tobal crashed into the fourth droid’s legs, once again sweeping the artificial life form’s feet out from under it. Not as graceful the second time, yet it still did the job. Recovering from his crash, Tobal turned, and moved to the fourth droid. It was rolling over, trying to get its blaster arm free. It never had a chance.

Tobal stood, allowing the droid to fall. A Red light blinked on the droids neck. Ruptured spinal cord. Permanent parlays for any human.

A computerized voice began to drone.

Battle time: 16.245 seconds.
Enemies killed: 5.
Analysis: Hand to hand master.

Tobal ignored the voice. He had heard it before. He wiped the small amount of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. These people liked to keep the combat chamber humid. They said it would build stamina. Whatever that was.

The utter absence of sound was beginning to bother Tobal. Ever since his arriving on this… “Super Star Destroyer,”… he had been assaulted by the sound of living beings. Whether awake, or asleep, the sound of life had badgered at him. Now, all was still. He stepped over the bodies of the fallen droids, and moved to the control panel. With an inexperienced hand he reactivated them, and shut the combat program down. Their program terminated, the droids moved back into their storage chamber.

Tobal stood still for a while. He moved his hand through his hair, and thought. No sound… people always make sound. The guards made sound while walking about. The students made sound when they did anything, be it moving, sleeping, or just sitting; even the ship its self made sound.
Then it hit him. There was no sound! None at all! No vibrations, or low rumblings. Not a single sound. Suddenly twice as alert as he had been before, Tobal scanned the combat chamber as if expecting opponents to pop out of the walls, and run screaming to the kill. His heart began to palpitate; a slight sweat joined the drying sweat already on his forehead. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to be calm. He needed to do something, and he needed to do it now.

Striding over to an adjoining room, Tobal opened the door. Weapons of every size, use, make, and type lined the walls. From automated blasters, to mass-produced lightsabers, they were all here. Tobal looked about, momentarily lost. His eyes cast about for a familiar looking weapon, but found none. No bows, no spears… yes, there was a spear. Grasping it, he gave it a heft… with a grunt he placed it back in its slot. It was obviously not made for a bipedal to wield. Right next to it he spotted a tall, two-meter staff. It was as thick as his wrist, and solid. This he grabbed with a smile. It rose above his head by a few palms, and hefted just right. Looking about for a secondary weapon, his eyes spotted a large double bladed hand knife. His hand reached out for it, then paused. No, better to take something that he could easily hide. A knife. The knives were stored next to the spears and lightsabers, along with the vibro blades. Tobal moved over to the knives, his eyes scanning. Too large, too small. He picked one up, and put it down instantly. If weighed almost nothing, too light to do significant throwing damage. Another was hefted, and discarded. Another, and yet another. After a time of futile searching, he finally settled upon one. It was a little thick for his tastes, but it would do.
Thrusting it into his belt behind his back, Tobal turned to leave.
As he did so, his eye caught sight of the lightsaber rack. Vyktor had shown him this. Tobal’s hand went out, and he gingerly picked one up. He had seen a student hamstring himself with one of these; the blade had gone through the back of the student’s leg like a lightning bolt through a air. Vyktor said that these sabers were made by a machine, and were good only for the most basic of training, and shouldn’t be used for saber vs. saber combat. They were prone to dying when put under the extreme energy usage that ensued in such a fight. Tobal pushed the button on the side of the saber. With a deep thrum a sky-blue blade stabbed out, pushing its self-up, and away.

The blue of the blade was so pale that Tobal could see right through it. He moved the saber about some, feeling the strange weightlessness of it, the bottom heaviness. You needed to be extremely strong to wield such a thing. There was no weight to assist your swings. He supposed that the weightlessness aided in quick movements though, and that had the possibility of making up for the shortcoming. Flicking the saber off, Tobal moved to replace the weapon back with its brothers. An image flashed through his mind as he did so… Master Fearsons demonstrating the cutting power of his saber. Cutting through twelve inches of flooring with one smooth motion, melting a blast door by holding the blade in it.
Tobal’s eyes held the training saber. Faulty or not, flaws in all, something with that cutting potential might have it’s uses if he needed to go though walls quickly. Though the possibility was slim, he liked to be prepared. Grabbing a pair of magnetic clips he hurriedly clipped the saber to his robe.

He had wasted enough time already. He needed to see whom, if anyone was left on the ship. Vyktor… He would check Vyktor’s chambers first.

Vyktor had been aboard the "Celestial Corrupter" for nearly two months, and he still stayed aboard his Svelte-class shuttle, though it had been moved to a private docking bay. He was just more comfortable aboard his own ship, fewer prying eyes.

Vyktor had not slept in some time, he had many duties and responsibilities, and he had been forced to concentrate on them a bit more in the last few days than he had in his preceeding time aboard the Super Star Destroyer. Thus, even more of his time was spent aboard the shuttle. This morning however would be different, something told Marius this.

He walked down the boarding ramp, the minor sounds of his boots on the durasteel decking unheard. Vyktor was oblivious to the absence of normal ship and crew noise for a few moments, he was busy trying to sort out the odd feeling he was having, which in fact was his minimal force sense trying to warn him something was wrong. Deep in self-contemplation, Marius walked towards the nearest hanger exit, the one which would take him to the gally. As he reached the door he suddenly froze.

His piercing blue eyes blinked twice as Marius' head moved side to side looking over his surroundings. Suddenly aware of the situation, he spun on his heels to see his ship, a controller appearing in his hand as he did so. A few commands and the Svelte shuttle was locked up tight by it's now thuroughly paranoid owner, who was already searching the hanger for danger.

His hands hung loosely at his sides, ready to spring to action should a danger present itself. Exceptionally aware now, inside Vyktor was a bit frustrated with his meager force skills. Had he been trained he could have swept the entire ship from this room to find the source of this problem. As it was, the old combat veteran could only feel that perhaps there were some allies still aboard.

It took approximately five minutes for the hanger area to be cleared. As he moved to leave Marius left a small sheet of flimsy stuck to the door frame, to signify that the room had been cleared. He also locked it behind him. That ship was his lifeline from this place, and he would not have it be tampered with.

So slowly, as his years of experience had tought him, Vyktor cleared one room after another, moving in sections. He tried to reach out with his jedi senses and identify anyone else aboard as he did so. The general feeling that someone was still aboard increased, but he couldn't yet tell who, or how many.

The few, the proud, the Loyal.

They stood before Dakkon with a posture forged in the Imperial Officers Academy on Despayre, and none could be more confident in their abilities. Only 20 of them remained, dedicated Jutraalian officers onboard the Celestial Corrupter on loan to the Order of Shadow Jedi. With the theft and destruction of the Deaths Hand by supposed traitors, this was the biggest ship left in the fleet. Only Jutraal command had no knowledge of its creation or its purposes. To them it did not exist.

He stood on the bridge, a grim set to his features as he pondered what they would have to do. Linking up with the rest of the Shadow Jedi would be hard. They were most likely scattered amongst the galaxy.

But he had to bring them back to the fold. The triumvirate needed them. Kyric Zens intelligence agency was his strong point, their loyalty to him as leader beyond question. Meanwhile the Inquisitorate held strictly loyal to not only the empire, but also to Viscount del Forza. These were their powerbases, and both with dual support of the navy lay a power beyond defiance. But Grand Admiral Blackblade, what was his powerbase? He was the longest serving admiral in the Jutraal Military. He had trained under the man who had reformed the Shadow Jedi Order. As a Knight of the Elite Guardian Sect he was by all accounts powerful on his own. But despite that, he still lacked his powerbase. Then it hit him. The key part of the Empire that was still lacking was the Shadow Jedi themselves. Were the scattered remnants brought back together, his powerbase would be assured, as would his place in the triumvirate.

But all that was secondary in his mind.

The Order must not fragment again! We must stick together through this...

He grimaced, thinking of the turmoil that would erupt if the order splintered. Banishing the thought from his mind, he turned to look out the main viewport. There lay Clak'Dor V, homeworld of the Ancient Order of the Shadow Hand. The first ever expedition of the New Order of Shadow had been to that sparsely populated planet. Fearsons, he and Arai had been attacked by a corrupted spirit of the older Order, but had overcome it. There Dakkon had found his two sabres and claimed them. The planet itself sat like a jewel amongst the blackness of the galaxy, its beauty only surpassed by the history that lay among the planets roots. Focusing on his objective, he began to speak to the men.

"We are in a difficult time, as you well know. Our men have left, believing the cause lost. You, the best we have to offer, have stayed, knowing that we shall struggle on.

Now we must begin that struggle."

He turned, focusing on each man in turn as he spoke.

"We must search out the rest of the Shadow Jedi. The Order depends on it. How many men do we have working the engineroom?"

"No more than 200 Sir."

Dakkon nodded slowly.

"Then we shall begin. Move us into jump positions. The search will begin. Let us track down the Society of Shadows..."

Creeping through the endless halls of the SSD, Tobal suddenly felt very much at home. It was almost like being home, this hunt. Although, there were no sounds, no animals to warn him by their silence that someone was near. Here, here it was just he.
Passage way after passageway, checking every unlocked door, Tobal moved along in a very systematic way. His mind logged every room he had entered, every passageway he had gone through, and the ones he had passed up. For a while, at least. After about ten minutes his mind was so full of the sameness of this place that he stopped trying to remember where he was, or where he had been.

The large staff he had brought with comforted him with its slight familiarity. A decent spear, or good bow would have been preferable though. He hefted the weapon, as if preparing to strike down an opponent.

Fifteen minutes passed, and still Tobal had met no one. He was beginning to feel frustrated. He stopped moving, and took a good look around at his surroundings. It was apparently some sort of computer room. The walls were covered with screens, from top to bottom. Each seemed to change every couple of minutes, from one still scene, to another. Tobal walked up to one, and glanced over it, his curiosity aroused. He seemed to remember that scene…. Of course! It was the combat chamber. The image shifted, and the meditation chamber came into view.
It didn’t take long for Tobal to realize that this was some sort of monitoring station, from which the entire, or a goodly portion of the ship was monitored. Quickly moving among the monitors Tobal scanned them all for possible signs of life. None were present. All were as still as death its self, with out a whisper of life.

Except for one. One monitor had movement. Tobal leapt over a center workstation, and scrambled to the monitor that had had movement. He stared for a second, and then whispered. “Vyktor…”
So there were other people aboard. The image shifted, and Tobal’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t had a chance to see where Vyktor was. The only thing he had seen was a bank of storm trooper blasters. He gritted his teeth, frustration coming to a peak. With one smooth motion he twisted, hands moving in a honey-like glide, bringing his staff up and over his head. The weapon accelerated to a blur, it’s end striking the keypad with an explosive pop.Keys went flying all over the room like missiles, and sparks emitted from rows of raw wires. It may have been a primitive show of emotion, but the end result was, however, the desired one. The monitor shifted back, and Tobal scanned it, searching for identifying marks. He remembered now, he had just been through that room not two minutes ago.

Now was a time for speed, and Tobal gave in to his instincts. He fairly ran out of the control room, and began a sprint down the hallway to where he seemed to remember that room being. As he approached the spot, care once again set in, and he moved back into stalking mode, creeping along, looking around every corner quickly before he moved on. There was no sign of Vyktor. But there was a small piece of flimsy stuck to the main support beam for this junction. Tobal looked about helplessly. This paper had not been here before, so Vyktor must have put it there. But which direction had he gone? There were four to chose from, and he had been down only one.

Vyktor bit his lip as he stuck yet another thin piece of flimsy to one of the endless hallways and portals that filled the ship. Yet one more room cleared. The man had been searching for hours now, and had yet to find anyone. His meager force senses had yet to help out much, they hadn't done anything beyond give him the idea that someone was aboard, other than himself. Were Marius not exceedingly patient, he'd be very frustrated by now.

The ship seemed to be a tomb. The only sounds to be heard were the slight humm of the ships systems running, and the rare noise that Vyktor made. The only feelings, that of the cold durasteel that was everywhere, and the barely perceptable sign of the ships reactors rumbling through that durasteel. Such a thing was only noticable by an experienced shipman, one with years of experience. Some were said to be able to identify a ships reactor from such a feel.

Marius was such a man, though not as skilled as those his thoughts had turned to.

I will continue this...

Gut instinct, it had served him well for the last couple of months. It had also gotten him turned out of his home, and rejected by his community. He had always had a good gut instinct, but three months ago it had gotten a lot better. So much so that he always won the wrestling contests, and always knew where the best deer, or fish were. Sometimes he hated his instinct, but other times he knew he wouldn’t have survived without it.

And today gut instinct told him that the north passage was the one to take. The north passage was no different than the rest, but he knew that was the one he must follow. Stuffing the piece of flimsy in his pocket, Tobal continued his silent march. His feet padded on the cool floor, silence reigned about. Wait… something was new in the air. Tobal stopped to listen. Yes, there was definitely a sound. It was a deep, very deep sound. Almost like the ship was growling. So soft, yet so… there. It was a disturbing sound to Tobal, for it was not natural to him. The only sound that he knew of which could compare to this, was that of an earth-split. Where the earth opened up, and swallowed whole villages. Tobal shook his head slightly, and began his silent jog. His eyes scanned everything, looking for signs of Vyktor.
There, another piece of flimsy stuck to a door. In fact, this was the only door Tobal had seen on this hallway yet. Further down was another door, and another piece of flimsy. Tobal’s face lit up slightly. He increased his stealth though, and crept down the hall, nearing a bend.

A slight scuff of a boot came to his ear, and the slight sound of crinkled flimsy. Poking his head around the corner, Tobal saw Vyktor placing another flimsy on a door. The man moved on, and despite his cumbersome footwear, made almost no sound. Vyktor was armed, with his blaster, and, as Tobal could see, no lightsaber. …must have been caught by surprise… unless he has them under his jacket…
Tobal began to straighten, but thought better of it. Creeping up on a man who was obviously trying hard not to be heard or seen might get himself killed. …better to make a little bit of noise…

Backing up, and going down the hallway several meters, Tobal allowed his staff to hit the durasteel every few steps. The “poc poc poc” sound it made was out of place, and quite loud. He turned, and went in the direction of Vyktor, hoping the man would not shoot him as he turned the bend.

OOC: Continuing from where I left off, sorry about such a short post before. Started replying and then simply ran out of time. One note though, I will be gone for about a week and a half after this.

IC: Marius was such a man, though not as skilled as those his thoughts had turned to, though on his own ships he could identify problems from the rumbles. This was inconsequential however, this was not his ship, and he had work to do.

He continued his search, and as he did so one portion of his mind wandered back to the religion that he had grown up with, the god he had served for countless years. Another wondered how his religion had anything to do with his current search. He'd cleared three rooms before it finally clicked. Meditations.

Both the training he'd recieved as a special servant to his god and the training of a Jedi included extensive meditations. Vyktor had never actually entered a Jedi meditation, but over the years he'd absorbed all sorts of information regarding the Jedi, mostly in an effort to defend himself should he be attacked and it was very similar to that which he knew. If he used the techniques, perhaps he could strengthen the signs he was recieving from the Force.

Taking a deep, calming breath, his cloaked frame froze in the corridor. Slowly his eyes shut, eliminating an entire series of distractions. Another breath, and Marius seemed to detach from everything, his senses shutting down even as his awareness began to increase. The third breath. In his mind, he was weightless, incorporeal. Tendrils of conciousness were streching out through the ship.

A fourth breath came and went, completely unnoticed by Vyktor. Now he was beginning to feel the effects he desired. The miniscule feelings he had had before were improving. First his sphere of control increased, nearly three quarters of the ship now. There were definately people still aboard. A fifth breath, his senses began to clear, singling out areas where life was aboard the Star Destroyer. Breath six, there were definately crews manning the bridge and in engineering, at least one force user amongst them.

Seven breaths. A feeling of urgency passed through Marius, and he concentrated more on the area directly around him. The eigth breath. As if stepping out of a fog, the sense of life he recieved around his own position cleared further, separating into two. Instinctually Vyktor returned from his trance, but leaving his newfound abilities activated, his conciousness tendrils continuing to explore the ship.

Whoever was near him was much closer than he would like. At the same time, they felt familiar. It wasn't as familiar as Master Fearsons, and not as obviously powerful in the force as Blackblade or Jade. That told Vyktor it had to be an apprentice, and that realization left only one. Tobal.

Now somewhat at ease, Marius moved to continue his task. His right boot scuffed the deck plating with his first step, an obvious result of his inexperience with the meditations, the foot was asleep. Biting his lip in annoyance, the man moved to remove the nearest flimsy. They were unneeded now, he knew that only Tobal was nearby. As he did so his cloak caught the air and moved back from his side, exsposing his blaster.

The old, well worn, but still excellent weapon was the only one seen in this manner, but far from the only weapon on his person. His left had snagged the cloak to pull it back into place, mere seconds before the noise began.

"Poc...Poc...Poc," the sound of a staff on transparisteel. Vyktor froze, waiting for the sound to clear the corner. It did so quickly. Marius simply spoke two words. "Hello Tobal."

He spoke them and slowly turned to face his fellow apprentice. While both were fairly new to the "Celestial Corruptor", they had spent some time together. Master Fearsons had asked his friend to teach Hadul the basics, to instruct him in all that he could without requiring lessons in the force.

He nodded respectfully, his eyes slightly vacant. One of his tendrils was picking up a third signature aboard. The location of this one said it all. Vyktor spoke once more before spinning on his heels to follow his feeling. "It's good to see you Tobal. Please follow me, and if you can do so without attracting too much attention, tell me what you've discovered. I have something I need to investigate."

"It's good to see you Tobal. Please follow me, and if you can do so without attracting too much attention, tell me what you've discovered. I have something I need to investigate."

The tight knot that had been building in Tobal’s chest disappeared at the sound of Vyktor’s voice. He was not abandoned, or alone on this alien ship. Vyktor walked with a purpose, and, unlike Tobal, seemed to know where he was going.
For a while Tobal walked along with him, saying nothing. He liked to think about what he was going to say before he said it. His father had taught him this. …better to say nothing at all, than to spit out some stupid half thought. Less damage is done to people’s feelings in this way, and your mind will grow stronger for it…

Vyktor led Tobal to a turboshaft, and pushed the button. Turning so he could face his companion, the older man looked Tobal over. Tobal felt as if Vyktor’s eyes were looking right through him, and viewing his very thoughts. Something was different about Vyktor somehow. Something felt different. As if Vyktor was somehow larger than before. Tobal blinked at the thought. The village healer had had that same feeling often, usually just before he left the village to move on to the next. Vyktor did not seem to be larger, but he felt larger… in some way.

Tobal thought about it for a moment, then decided it would be best to ask Vyktor about it, instead of wondering. He spoke, his voice soft so as not to travel a long distance.

“Discovered? I have discovered nothing other than that this cursed ship is completely devoid of life. Save for you, I met no one. No enemies, or friends.” Tobal paused, and continued. “You, however, feel different. I do not know to explain it very well. You feel larger to me somehow. You are the same height as yesterday, but you feel larger. Like the local healer did back on my planet felt whenever he was about to leave. He felt larger as well. Could you please explain this to me?”

Tobal stopped speaking, and looked over to the turboshaft door, expecting it to be opened. The door was not open, and no sound emanated from it, and the light did not change. Five seconds later, the door opened, and Tobal stepped into the dimly lit chamber beyond.

<span style="color:blue;">Vyktor smiled slyly at Tobal's observation. His comrade instincts led him to use the feelings he recieved through the force at this low level of training well. That he noticed the change was remarkable, and his ability to put it together with something he knew from his past said something for the man. A definate potential.

As Hadul had done, Marius organized his thoughts before speaking, waiting until they were inside the turbolift and it was on it's way. His slight smile remained. "An excellent job, my friend, in noticing the change. Your quite correct, there is a difference in myself since last we saw each other. Just a few moments before you found me I had a breakthrough in my hands on understanding of the force and our capabilities therein. Nothing earth-shattering, I simply realized that some of the things I had learned throughout my life could be incorporated into my knowledge of the force. I tested the theory, and as you noticed, I was successful."

"The meditation I just went through expanded my conciousness to a degree. I now have some control of a technique that allows me to increase my knowledge of the surrounding area. Just a notable increase, I now know that there are crews on the bridge and in engineering, at least one of which is a force-user. Other than that, and the sense I picked up from you just before your arrival, I only found one other signature, where we are heading now."

The turbolift stopped and the door opened silently before them. The room was a fair sized one, with only a low level of light. It was obviously a waiting area of some sort, with a collection of chairs and low tables scattered around the room. In the center was an empty desk, obviously that of a receptionist or secretary. The panels there were all deactivated, a small factor in the room's light level.

There were three doors in this room, the single turbolift in which the pair now stood, and two others, forming a triangle throughout the chamber. The floor was decorated in the same shape, leading to those doors, the symbols of the Jutrallian Empire and Shadow Jedi joined there in the middle. Vyktor took a few steps into the room, looking back and forth between the two doors, and concentrating for a few moments.

Now he turned back around, his shoulder-length hair spinning as he did. He looked to Tobal, speaking quietly. "Master Fearsons is in the next room, and I believe he wishes to speak with us. I gather that things are about to change for the two of us quite a bit. Come with me please."

He turned, headed towards the right door. It scanned both of the men without alerting them, and opened before them, into an even darker room. Undaunted, Marius walked on.</span>