In an eruption of light, alabaster orbs pierced the veil of the darkened room as his eyelids opened. For a long time he lay there, eyes unblinking, as he took in the room around him, his quarters, and felt the throbbing hum of the massive vessel’s engines all around him. Reaching out further, his mind washed over the living energy of the ship’s crewmen.

The dream again.

He had been having it for nearly every night since he had left Ossus. Always the same familiar presence, the man that he could not remember and yet somehow meant so much to him. Always the argument, about what he could not exactly remember. Always the goodbye, as if it meant so much, as if the moment meant so much.

It felt more like half-forgotten memory than a dream. A vision of the future? Or a specter of the past? He could not decide, one way or the other.

The Force had felt different lately. What that meant, he could not really say. It was that sort of pervasive and yet meaningless feeling of apprehension, when you knew something was not quite what it should be but couldn’t put your finger on precisely what that thing was. He was on guard, ready for just about anything. Every shadow seemed a premonition to him.

The comm buzzed, drawing his pale orbs from their reverie to focus intently on the blinking blue light. He gave a sigh that could best be described as frustration with himself. His muscles strained as he leaned over and keyed the acknowledgment.

“Admiral Ekan, your presence requested on the bridge for hyperspacial reversion,” squawked the receiver.

“Understood,” he grunted, keying off the the unit and standing up to get dressed.

Adjusting the light levels, he stared across the now-lit room at the ceremonial Jedi armor hanging across the cabin from him and grinned. It was the first time he would have the opportunity to wear it since he had arrived on the ship. He was going to need it today, it was a special occasion.

Jedi Grandmaster Zark Ekan was finally coming home.



“Admiral on deck!” came the call, and as one the bridge crew of the Nebula-class star destroy the ONS Axiom were on their feet and at attention.

“As you were,” Zark calmly but forcefully responded, watching with pride as they returned to their duties. It was not long before Captain Anton Yemin was by his side, “Captain. Glad to be rid of me, I don’t doubt.”

“Admiral. Nothing personal,” he gave a quick and subtle grin, characteristic of the reserved man, “It was an honor to serve with you and you were an asset to the crew, but it will be good to take a more active role in the running of this vessel again, sir.”

“I understand, and I apologize for ruffling your feathers,” the Jedi nodded his head sagely at the grizzled Ossan navyman, “It was an honor to see you work, you’re an exceptional warrior and your men’s discipline put Jedi to shame. Happy hunting when you go.”

“...thank you, sir,” Yemin hesitantly responded, somewhat baffled by the moment of candid admiration from the Jedi.

“Hyperspacial reversion imminent!” came the call from the navigation trench.

Captain Yemin grabbed on to a railing to brace himself for the abrupt shift in speed, while Zark merely stood still, hands clasped and at his waist and head bowed. As they emerged into realspace, Yemin jerked slightly toward the railing but Zark seemed to move not an inch. The rest of the bridge crew began to regain their composure, and the Jedi Master lifted his head to gaze out the bow viewport and smiled.

“Welcome home, gentlemen,” Yemin called out, and as one the bridge let out a resounding cheer.

Though they were on the outskirts of the system, every soul aboard the ship knew it well enough to pick out the faint orb in the distance, beyond the ice ball that was Missarassa and the gas giant Colsassa. With the exception of one, all of them had spent nearly their entire lives on that faint speck, on that pale yellow dot.

Ossus. Home.

It had been months since any of them had seen it, months since any of them had even spoken a word to their loved ones. They had been running in Regrad’s vanguard, waylaying Reaver excursions and patrolling the border as best they possibly could. The entire ship had been comm silent since they had left this very system.

Zark closed his eyes, letting the warm glow of Adega Prime and Adega Besh wash over him, seeping into his very bones. Throughout the years of his service to the Order and beyond, the Jedi had travelled much, seen countless systems, countless planets, countless stars. Despite that, there was something about the twin Adegas that soothed him more than any other points of light possibly could.

“Admiral?” the Captain’s voice brought him back to his surroundings, and he opened his eyes, “The planet is hailing us, Councilor Tre’Na is seeking permission to come aboard.”

“It is no longer my place to grant it, Captain Yemin,” Zark replied, turning to face the ship’s commander.

“Understood, sir,” Anton turned toward the comm station and nodded his assent before returning his gaze to the Jedi, “I relieve you, Admiral.”

“I stand relieved.”

Wasn’t it the truth.



“Councilor Tre’Na.”

“Master Ekan.”

The two Jedi stood facing each other in the massive hangar bay of the Axiom, each wearing a solemn expression. Captain Yemin stood at Zark’s side, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. For a while neither of them spoke, merely stared at each other. Anton, obviously confused, said nothing. Some sort of Jedi ritual, he thought, but could not be sure. He coughed in an awkward attempt to break the silence.

It was Zark who broke first, a smile slowly growing wider on his face. Teros smiled back, and then they both laughed, the Jedi Grandmaster clasping the flustered Ossan captain on the shoulder before crossing the gap between him and the Caamasi and embracing the other man tightly.

“You look no worse for wear,” Teros commented as they broke off from each other, looking his friend up and down, “Unless you’re hiding some new battlescars under that ridiculous armor of yours.”

“I could ask the same of you!” Zark laughed, scanning the councilor with a measure of comically equal severity, “Reaver space doesn’t hold a candle to a senate hall. Has Parliament chewed you up and spat you out already?”

“I’m sure there will be parades in the streets of Orilcia now that the Jedi usurper has finally gone off on some idealistic crusade,” Tre’Na winked, walking with Zark over to where Anton stood with a frustrated look upon his face, “My fellow councilors all wished me a safe journey and lamented my sabbatical, but I’m certain half of them hope I’m torn to pieces by Reavers.”

“And the other half?” Zark asked.

“Likely hope I’ll trip and break my neck, to save them the loss of a star destroyer,” the Caamasi sighed.

“That bad, eh?” he shook his head before glancing over to the patiently waiting Anton, “Ah, forgive me Captain. Councilor Tre’Na, may I introduce you to Captain Anton Yemin of the Ossan Defence Force.”

“Councilor,” Yemin bowed low, eliciting a smirk and raised eyebrow from Zark, so used to the Captain’s smart salutes.

“Captain Yemin,” Teros bowed sagely in return, “Well met. I look forward to serving with you, and I hope that we can coexist a bit more symbiotically than you have with Admiral Ekan these past few months.”

“How did you...” Anton’s eyes widened in a particularly horrified expression, likely fearing some sort of Jedi mind probe.

“Relax, Captain,” Zark said reassuringly, shaking his head at the other Jedi, “Its people like you that drove us into hiding in the first place, Teros.”

“I apologize, Captain,” the councilor said, scoffing at Zark, “It was merely intuition. You see, I’ve had to put up with Zark Ekan for far longer than you, and I know he can be...domineering, even under the best of circumstances.”

“Domineering?!” Zark echoed, his eyes widening in feigned horror, “I demand you take that back!”

“The trick is to ignore his bluster,” Teros faux-whispered, winking slyly at Anton.

“I’m certain that the Councilor and I will get along just fine,” Yemin said, drawing bemused expressions from both Jedi, “Ah, Admiral. I believe your transport to the surface has just received its green light.”

“And I don’t want to keep it waiting! Thank you, Captain,” Zark said, shrugging off the other man’s salute and proffering his hand instead, smiling as Anton tentatively grasped it, “Its a shame Regrad so urgently needs you back on the front. I can only imagine what the men are going through, being so close to their home and not even being able to comm their families.

If only there were some sort of potentially serious but immediately non-threatening mechanical malfunction that might allow the men twenty four hours of shore leave, or, you know, something of that nature...”

Anton stared at the Jedi for a few seconds with a thoroughly baffled expression before all three of them heard a beeping coming from the Captain’s belt. His eyes shot up in horror to watch the Jedi Master already walk away.

“May the Force be with you, Anton!” Zark called out over his shoulder, “And say hello to engineering for me!”

“I...he...can he do that?” Yemin gasped out.

“Do what?” Teros asked, watching Zark board the transport with a smile, “Enjoy your shore leave, Captain. I’ll mind the bridge while you’re gone, and I’ll make sure to get some outside hands at work on whatever has just gone wrong so engineering can see their families as well.”

Anton stared blankly at the Caamasi before finally walking away to answer the squawking personal comm, mumbling to himself.



The moment he felt the soft rumble that could only be the disengagement of the shuttle’s repulsors as the landing gear locked into place, Zark was out of his seat and moving toward the exit. He paused for a brief moment to make sure once more that his robes adequately shrouded the armor underneath, then waved his hand gently and gave a small smile as the locking mechanisms on the hatch disengaged and the door slid open.

Ignoring the gawking flight technicians who had, until just recently, been running post-flight diagnostics, the Jedi Master smiled and, closing his eyes, hopped from the portal and relished the moment his boots hit the durasteel floor. Having travelled much of the galaxy, Zark was accustomed to extended durations of space travel, but what Regrad had the men and women under his command doing was closer to outright sadism. Necessary, of course, but unfortunately also very cruel.

Wrapping his robes tighter around him and making sure his hood was tightly secured about his head, Zark walked brusquely past the starport deck crew and made straight for the nearest exit, in no mood to be stopped lest he be recognized. The name Zark Ekan had become something of a household one on Ossus, and hardly a day went by that the local news crews didn’t flash that stock image of him on the holofeeds, a rather aged picture from some old Republic personnel file that felt more like a mugshot to him than anything else.

The Jedi couldn’t afford to be noticed, not for a while at least. Publicly, the Axiom wasn’t expected back in-system for another several months at the absolute minimum, and his presence on-world would only lend credence to the rumors that his Admiralship was more propaganda than anything else.

Once they found the malfunction in engineering, they’d make the vessel’s presence known to the world, but even then Zark preferred that the first footage the holofeeds caught of returning crew be native Ossan Navymen, not some lone Jedi Master skulking back to Knossa ahead of the men under his command. There were enough negative sentiments cropping up already about the perceived privilege of Jedi within Ossan society without a scandal like that.

Dodging a rather meek looking customs officer, he emerged from the docking bay and stepped into the spaceport atrium, a massive chamber that would have given off a mausoleum feeling were it not for the transparisteel ceiling that bathed the floor in the glow of the planet’s twin suns. Taking a deep breath, Zark fell into step with the thronged crowd making their inexorable way toward the apparently endless rows of Customs stations.

As he neared the beginning of something resembling an organized line, Zark reached out with the Force and sensed the auras around him. He knew that at that moment several units of Jedi Guardsmen were mobilizing to intercept him before he left the spaceport, and he didn’t have much time if he wanted to avoid a scene.

Due to the system’s blanket comm silence protocols, the shuttle he had arrived on was the first real contact the Axiom had had with the planet and, considering his rather unorthodox bypass of arrival protocol, OrilSec likely hadn’t yet gotten word that he was planetside. That classified him as UFS, or Unidentified Force Sensitive, and warranted immediate extraction from the public space to an off-site location where he could be properly processed.

Zark had been forced to reluctantly acquiese to such strict protocols. Often times UFSes were nothing more than scared younglings searching for safe harbor and perhaps training, and surrounding them with a special forces squad the moment they landed wasn’t exactly his idea of a positive first impression. Not to mention any sufficiently powerful Jedi or Sith could simply mask their presence as he had done.

But the politicians demanded some form of noticeable security measures to reassure the public with. After all, the last two planets to play host to an incarnation of the Jedi Order had met with grisly fates at the hands of their enemies. And Zark did have to admit that the protocols were at times effective in waylaying would-be aggressors. Most Sith were far too arrogant to even consider the possibility of sentries capable of sensing their attunement posted at spaceports, assuming that the distance from the Library would keep them under the radar.

He could sense them now, moving secretly through the crowds to block off potential escape routes before he could react. He focused his mind on them, probing their minds delicately to identify their commander. It did not take long, he had trained many of them personally. Upon locating the leader, he sent a quick wave of reassurance toward the man, a native Ysanna, mentally identifying himself and quickly explaining the need for secrecy with his thoughts.

There was a sudden falter in the squad’s movements before, as one, they broke off from their attempts at containment and fully melded with the civilians, leaving those around him unaware that anything had happened at all. It was not long after that Zark found himself face to face with the man he had communicated with.

Grandmaster, the Ysanna greeted him telepathically, giving a curt nod in place of the ceremonial bow that would have given them both away to those around them. The thought carried with it a question as much as it did an introduction. Traditionally, OrilSec would have been notified well ahead of his arrival, and the Guardsman was curious as to the meaning behind the breach in protocol.

I would prefer my arrival go unnoticed...for the time being, Zark explained, and the Guardsman nodded once more before reaching his hand up to a comm implant in his ear and mumbling softly, the exact words drowned out by the cacophony of the bustling port around them. Mere seconds had passed before the officer looked at the Jedi Master once more and motioned him to follow.

The Ysanna picked his way deftly through the crowd, a skill that came in quite handy in his particular line of work, and it took all of Zark’s agility to keep pace with the young man, yet outwardly he made it look as if it were easy. Wouldn’t do to give off the impression that he was getting old.

With the briefest flash of identification, the Guardsman led him through a security checkpoint and toward a door that read in Aurabesh “Authorized Personnel”. Zark sighed with relief to be finally out of the crowd, but as they passed through the doorway and began their march down a long, spartan-looking access hall, he began to feel a bit silly at the additional security precautions the Ysanna appeared to have heaped upon his exodus.

Two more Guardsmen, these ones properly uniformed, quickly fell into step behind them in some sort of crude honor guard. The way they were treating him made him feel more like a diplomat or politician than a Jedi Master. And in a way, that was what he had become over the past several months since Chaddwick Fearsons had let the whole galaxy know of their existence.

Force save me, this must be how Leia feels, he had never understood her frustration with the trappings of political office before, but the early days of the Enclave’s public face had been a crash course in just how outrageously aggravating such trappings could really be. After dozens of sleepless nights of press conferences and political dealings, Regrad’s call to arms had almost come as a relief from it all. And here he was, back in the lion’s den.

The Guardsman leading him took an abrupt right and, after a short walk, they reached a door marked “Emergency Exit”. Rolling his eyes, Zark bowed low to the OrilSec officer and, turning, once more to the two guards behind him. Then the Ysanna swung the door open and Zark stepped out into the nearly blinding sunlight and onto the duracrete pavement of bustling downtown Orilcia.

Parked on the curb directly in front of him was an unlabelled but officious looking air speeder, and it quickly dawned on him that not only had OrilSec facilitated his quick retreat from the spaceport, but had also requisitioned transport for him as well. He turned back to the door to thank the Guardsmen once more, but it had already swung shut. They were nothing if not efficient. He allowed himself the briefest surge of pride before quelling it and hopping into the passenger side of the speeder. The pilot spoke not a word to him before taking off, and in moments they were in the air and headed for the city outskirts.

It was good to be back.