Endless Night(revised)

[Ghost Rider]

To my five fans...the editted and revised version of my first chapter.

It'll be a while for the rest

Dawn

1-1

A hideous, deafening wail was in the air. It seemed to emanate from the screams of the dead mixed with the lonely howls of the dying and those would had existed. The voices all joined in a cacophony of loss and hatred.

In the distance there was the city. It’s name now lost in the annals of bygone times. The once cerulean sky always had the appearance that there was a storm to break. It was that way all the time. The storm never did break. It just threatened to do so. The very withholding of the actual event implied that should the storm break, it would sweep away all of reality. Today the storm broke.

At the entrance of the temple, none of this mattered to a mass of flesh and bone that huddled there under a tattered black cloak. Above him the sky was a color of rotten blood and the smell of million charring corpses. He slowly rose; each pained move took from him a precious second more of life. Eyes wandered about and glanced saw his lightsaber, shattered across the stairs. If he took notice of the object, he didn’t show it, his mind was focused elsewhere, elsewhen. The air caressed his cheeks like knives, burning his eyes with suffocating smoke. For a moment he pricked his ears up, hoping to hear something above the hideous wail, a small sweet voice. He hoped in vain.

He tested the patience of his dying body as he aimlessly searched again with his eyes. Each exertion his body protested with a new sensation. His arms begged for rest, his legs refused to respond, but he willed himself forward. The reward for his pain was an image he wanted to get away from, to not admit it was not real, and not happening.

“This can’t be real, why her, why, how, WHY!” The thought hung there for but a moment as he cradled the bloody mess. Small auburn locks fell across her destroyed face as the man wept. That thought gnawed at his shattered mind. A single fragmented thought gave way to the feeling that everything was wrong here and now, but it was a small fragment in a sea of discord and chaos.

The storm seemed to bend and swirl around a single being as he strode forward. A methodical pace was set by the sounds of the man’s black boots, they echoed louder then any explosion, cleaner then any scream. At the top of the stairs he gazed from his lofty height down at the pitiful creature before him. The huddled man ignored him like he did everything else at the moment.

The tall man shook his head. If this man had a soul, he would garner this creature his pity, his empathy, but he was not and the small thing before him was a failure. A light sigh expelled from his lips. With that he outstretched his right arm; a small tube flew from his hip into his hand. He cradled the object and depressed a single button. The shaft of light let loose a hideous sizzle as it cut into the air and seem to slice through the haze of the pitiful creature as he raised his eyes up in despair. Raising the blade high, he smiled down upon the broken form.

“Only now, at the end, do you understand.” And with that the blue blade came crackling down.

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Derith’s eyes flung open suddenly. Gazing upward he reassured himself of where he was and what he was doing. He propped himself up with none of the protests or pains of the events within the dream, and then he roamed his tongue through his teeth. A horrible dream but a dream nonetheless, something he need not to worry about. There would be many a Jedi who would proclaim that such dreams are portents of things that may yet to come, but Derith would not count himself amongst them. Dreams are for those who were weak and unable to grasp their destiny firmly into their hands and command change. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his body, despite the coolness in the air. Derith felt the chill crawl throughout his body and he trembled as if he experienced something beyond his own comprehension, and his teeth chattered involuntarily. Sickening. His teeth never chattered involuntarily in his entire life. If he could not command his body, he was of no use to the Jedi. He clamped down hard on his mouth to halt the sound.

Eyes that were unfocused and confused now began to methodically devour the surroundings. There was virtually no light at the moment, he could see in the darkness as well as he could in the light. Honestly he considered it a waste of time and energy to have any such artificial lights either reinstalled or repaired. A constant hum of machinery was the only noise within the place. Everything that was necessitated to keep his place in working order was there. An antiseptic smell pervaded the senses; it felt clean but lacking of any life. He found it cleansing, that all one could taste was the needed elements to live. Many claimed you could almost smell death in this place, and feel its cold harsh presence in the eternal stillness of the air. For anyone else it was an extraordinarily disturbing feeling, for him, it was home.

Shutters responded to an invisible command as he waved his hand next to them and sunlight flooded the spartan quarters. The engulfing light added so little to the surrounding except to further pound into one how cold his room was. White metal walls had a clean sheen about them, but not a single picture adorning or covering them. A bed jutted out of the wall and retracted as he got off it. He wandered past a desk that sequestered itself on the far wall; it had nothing on it except a single holopicture of an auburn haired woman. On a single chair resting against the desk were a pair of dark green pants and similarly colored tunic, sitting on the floor were a pair of black boots that had an unearthly shine to them. One could see off to the far edges of this room were two mute doors. One of these doors led to a refresher so he could present a suitable appearance for the outside world, the other to escape this sterile hole. His room as always presented itself as the perfect utility for living, nothing more; a perfect match for its owner.

A small red light flickering across the cold room caught his blue eyes for a moment. It pulsed in a hypnotic fashion, but in all honesty Derith could care less. In all likelihood it was Connor, who has decided to likely harangue and harass him into telling him about his last adventure. He sighed at the thought, it wasn’t as if his adventures were ones he really wanted to be spoken of, they were just missions of no real note. He honestly didn’t see the thrill in them, the thought of facing yet another band of pirates or rogue Jedi was something he just considered something that one would have to face eventually, he was just placed into these situations more often then thousands of others in the Order. Honestly, he believed it spared them much unneeded pain and hassle if he was taking care of such things while the rest of them improved life for the rest of the galaxy. Though his problem wasn’t that Connor asked him of his stories, as much as it was the consequences of this action. It was that always, somehow, inevitably one could say, Connor would speak of his tales to his supposed nemesis, I’Brat. And while they argued over the merits of some minor niggling point, a Padawan would overhear of the tale and eventually it would explode into a tale of him slaying forty Sith lords with a twinkle in his eye and saucy Twi’leck on his arm. He blamed himself really, Master Durandal always said that the truth is always ignored and disliked because people much rather preferred a fantasy they conjured for themselves to enjoy.

Chuckling at the thought, he walked over the fresher. The incessant light continued it’s rhythmic pulsing. He would attend to it later, yes later. What was the point to rush anything? If he didn’t respond to it now, it would continue on its life. These things happened whether he cared for them or not.

Flicking a switch inside the fresher he gave himself a good hard look. He ran his hand through his mop of brown straight hair. Blast it all, his jumbled mess of strands and poor cuts looked worse then Master Dalton on a bad hair day. Which was in itself an accomplishment, to look worse then a Wookiee’s bad hair day. Grabbing a small cutting implement he proceeded to even out his hair. Today he had a report to give before Master Durandal on his latest mission and it’s successful conclusion. One of his master’s fondest proverbs was that a cluttered face is the work of a cluttered mind or something to that effect, he couldn’t remember. He steadily let his hands roam around his head with the implement, clearing out eight months worth of growth till it reached his desired short cut. He then stared again and looked at the beard and mustache. That too would have to go. Maneuvering it around his chin and face it cut the entire beard and mustache growth that had long since worn out its welcome. He traced his smooth face and smiled tightly as he saw he was now ready to make an appearance to the Council without looking like a cantina drifter.

Now the small device began to voice a crisp ping, along with it’s flashing. This finally unnerved Derith. It disturbed his train of thoughts of desiring to place the facts he had gathered in his last mission into a more cohesive picture. Master Durandal called it thinking empirically. Master Wong called it seeing the trees from the forest. He recalled that said mission was to go out to the farthest Outer Rim sector and investigate some odd disturbances on some planets. At first he thought Master Durandal had lost his mind but in the end he saw why. He recorded to what appeared to be some sort of scouring of planets that weren’t considered livable but had potential, though not any longer. Some great machine or machines in the span of years gutted the planets and the one he had been lead to was not the first. He tracked backwards to the planets that had been afflicted in a similar manner, but as he thought he got closer the gutting mysteriously stopped. He wanted to put a requisition to the Council for a longer stay to further investigate the matter but Master Wong called him back to Coruscant within the seventh month of his sojourn for a mission greater importance. He disliked the thought of leaving anything unsolved but what the Council ordered he obeyed. Though the facts of what he saw made no sense, nonetheless another mystery to solve another time. Either way the device was interrupting his thought patterns, immensely.

With a wave he called his green tunic from the only chair in the room to his hand, and he placed it over his bare chest as he walked to the device and slammed the acceptance button; if for nothing else then it to stop it’s incessant calling for him.

A blue figure sprang forth from the wall and was projected onto the metal floor. A smile came forth from the figure as it saw a grimace emerge from Derith’s face.

“And lo, he can understand simple machinery! So why haven’t you given any of us at least a hello of your arrival?” The blue figure said with its arms outstretched in a mocking fashion.

Derith barely looked at the direction of the taunting image as he pulled up his pants. “If you haven’t noticed I was being pleasantly alone in my thoughts, Connor.” Derith said as he adjusted his lightsaber. “Thinking, it’s something you should try sometime. I believe it could only improve you attitude.”

Connor’s small figure staggered dramatically back. His hand clutched over his heart, as he looked skyward. “Oh.” He moaned. “Oh, by all the masters of the Force, I have been stabbed by the imitable wit of Derith Rider. How shall I ever recover?”

Derith shook his head. “What is it that you want?”

Connor, though from the tiny hologram no one could relate to any height, was a lanky man of twenty-five to maybe twenty six Galactic standard years. He had a rather thin body and though no one could tell from the hologram a somewhat pale complexion. His eyes always seem to waver or wander but never missed much, the look was more akin that he had twenty thoughts in his head and was trying to relate all of them into a concise picture. What should have been flowing black hair was neatly tucked into a ponytail with a few strands falling across his brow. Every once in a while he would just periodically brush it aside unconsciously. “It’s nice to see you’re still your boring self as usual, or is this your happy face? At times I can never tell except one has you grunting and the other has you mumbling. As to your question, a friend just can’t call you at some random time?”

“Yes, but with you it’s never random.” Derith said with a slight tug on his mouth. Their friendship and rivalry was born from long ago when they were Padawans. The origins though long since lost between the two of them had formed possibly one of the more unique relations. This is especially given that Connor was considered one of the finer archivists but a joker of sorts and with Derith being anything as such; many would claim when he was brought into the universe with all the humor was drained from him to supply others with a happier outlook. Many Padawans back in the day would watch with great amusement, as Connor would try to ply some sort of humor into the dour Derith only to receive some non-committal grunt. In many ways they saw something in each other that they both liked and disliked which ultimately formed the foundation of their illogical friendship.

“Why do I even tolerate you?” Connor said shaking his head slightly. To him he still never quite got the curt attitude. He knew underneath that this brick he called a friend had feelings, though trying to pry them might as well be as profitable a venture as prying Master Dalton’s teeth out, though possibly more enjoyable.

“Because you have always enjoyed challenges. Now just tell me what is the nature of the call.” Derith said with exasperation in his voice.

“Nature of the call…pfft. It’s really a hello, no ulterior motivation, no hidden agenda.” Connor smirked as he propped his hands up in a stopping motion.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Believe what you will my friend. Nonetheless I shall see you at the temple, we have a great deal to discuss.” With that Connor’s hologram dissolved with a wave and a smile. Derith for his part realized what Connor had called him for. His shoulders slumped in realization. How could he forget her for two weeks? In many ways it was his only true failure of any sort, and something he had been running away since her confession. He didn’t know what to say, and all that came to his mind was a pair of words. In many ways he came to curse that inadequacy on his part, but in the end, he would not retreat. Breathing in deeply, he steeled himself for the oncoming onslaught he would likely face. She was a rational person, he told himself; she would understand his reasons for not telling her of his arrival as soon as he came back; too bad his reasons even to him were hardly logical or rational, more of an excuse. Approaching the exit to his apartment he willed his black cloak into his hand and twirled it onto his shoulders. In his mind he repeated a small mantra to himself that he would seek the most logical and reasonable solution to the problem and the problem would find a satisfactory end. Though as he was told many times; love and logic were hardly bedfellows.

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Complex number forty-two was the butt end of Coruscant’s Lower District.

It was far removed from most of Coruscant’s better areas and even some of the better amenities of the lower district. Visitors were rare, newcomers rarer still. The facilities were not even begun to be top of the line, even for the average beggar.

Usually living complexes such as this served a few purposes, highest amongst them were living quarters. They were a way of the government saying, “Hello, we are here. And we’re looking out for your best interests.”

Complex forty-two filled that obligation…barely. Nothing less that that, and certainly nothing more.

Derith strode through the filthy complex he lived in. The floor of the place had a mixture of texture lining it as well as an assortment of smell of alien urine and variety stages of rotting meats. The walls were littered with graffiti in an assortment of languages that seem to be a jumble of Huttese, a bit of pidgin Basic and a few others. The scrawls expressed their distaste to authority and to perform some sexually impossible positions…well for most species. All in all Derith always laughed how the outside disguised the interior since it provided for him a perfect place to live. It provided him a cover from his targets he always wanted but never could have at the temple.

The turbolift’s doors swished open to whisk him off to his intended destination. He turned around as the door’s close and could just hear his master’s concern that a turned back was a vulnerable back, which to him was an unnecessary caution. His training was that to literally detect even a stray feeling of intent against him, the Force was very strong in him and he had little care for possibilities. He knew what happened and when, he alone controlled his destiny.

He looked out as the lift began its ascension skyward and the scene transformed from destitute holdings to a colorful menagerie of lights and soaring buildings. It never ceased to amaze Derith how this world had so many layers to it, and such diversity for possible the richest planet in the galaxy. The weather was also something unique in the galaxy, literally no natural system. Long since instituted since the time of the Great Purge, a Sith lord by the name of Palpatine wanted to control everything. It was a simple set up to institute a planet wide set up to control every aspect of weather, over time it became unnoticed by the general population that unless they came from elsewhere, they just always assumed planets had weather control.

From orbit the lights were so many and so bright you would believe that night never fell on Coruscant. They glittered in a thousand hues and colors it seemed the stars themselves were just a part of the eternal horizon over the planet. Literally the lights danced brighter then the overhead star before him even though it was early morning. As the lift’s door swished open again he was greeted with a myriad of noises. Thousands upon thousands of air speeders criss-crossed the lanes of traffic creating a most unusual three-dimensional grid pattern. To most newcomers this was perhaps the most disturbing vision to behold and most shied away from navigating through it. To Derith this was one of the most exhilarating things. The speed, the wind, the challenge were all things that challenged him. Sure, many a master even when he was a lowly Padawan would complain about the sheer recklessness of the act, but in many ways, it was release. He smiled at the thought as he walked to the garage.

The area hardly had any sort of upkeep for at least a span of two, possibly three months if the dust was any indication. Of course who would care for anything here he didn’t know, the place he lived was one of the lower rent districts of Coruscant and simple droid services were difficult to acquire. Nonetheless this did little to dissuade him as he threw off the beige cover on his air speeder. He looked at his vehicle with a hint of love but mostly of accomplishment. Cobbled together of loose and bargained parts he created a Air Speeder that was at least as fast as most current models but one that cost him far less than any street priced model, and better still it was his creation from start to finish. She was an unusual design since she had a more arrowhead design versus the current smaller boxier designs of current models. Her front was an arrowhead that was split down the middle with her rear having an exposed engine look. The seat took the traditional center with a control panel and window guarding it. His hands danced across her smooth lines lovingly as he propped himself in the single seat. He adjusted a pair of riding gloves as he flicked a few switches and the lights danced across the display indicating everything was stable. The machine hummed with a low roar as he gave the throttle a good twist, and he smiled at the response. Closing his cold blue eyes for a few seconds, he let his senses expand beyond the building and the surrounding horizon. He counted from ten as he felt the Force guide his actions, feeling the power flush through his cheeks.

At the count of one he hit the accelerator with a push and jerked his bike into the oncoming traffic. He came right in front of an oncoming flying truck, which the driver began to swerve as he adjusted his course and heading to avoid the first truck. The driver stopped and railed at Derith as he came into a near miss with a second car which appear to come out of what appeared to be nowhere and tried to it’s best to avoid him. Derith calmly ascended above the driver in a half loop and then ascended higher into the proper traffic course. He smiled; the test was a complete success, as always. To many it would seem like a reckless action, for him it was no different then checking one’s mouth for a broken tooth, for a flaw. And for him there was none.

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The Jedi Temple was a structure that outside looked to be possible functional but a statement of grandeur. Once during the New Order and the other when the Vong had torn it down. Though those were rarities at each tearing down it would get rebuilt, and of the many times though, none were as grand this current creation. Many designers had felt the monastic outlook would serve almost basic needs but they wanted something that celebrated that they were Jedi and they had survived and endured all that they did and grown strong from it. All those centuries ago, they wanted to show a quiet strength in the structure. This massive edifice was dwarfed by no structure.

The building appeared to have a pyramidal base with a small circle crowning it, but that was minimizing at best. At the base was a pyramid with all encompassing stairs leading up to main structure from the main thoroughfare of Coruscant. Adorning the building at many points were small towers or what they appeared from orbit, bumps. These served as observation decks, rooms or any sort of assortment of functions. They served the Jedi with a stellar record.

At the edges of this white building were four spires that extended nearly to the peak of the Jedi Temple. Each were said to be the housing of the four masters, others said personal mediation chambers. The Council let such rumor spread, even though it was common knowledge that Master Crown tended to enjoy living inside the temple’s main structure. In reality they were storehouses of datapads and artifacts that a variety of fact-finding mission found. The temple itself slowly rose along the triangular edge until one reached the apex where in a half sphere sat. This object is where the Jedi Council held every meeting and conferred every decision. It stood above everything in Coruscant, even towering above the Senate in its lofty height.

Connor stood at the base of the building and looked at it as a reminder of the Order…proud, enduring, and constant. Even in his youth the building amazed him in its size and in its overwhelming dominance of the landscape. As a chronicler of the Jedi he still stood in awe of this current creation, the others were said to be nearly as magnificent but he could not see how. He strode across the ways to the docking area where he presumed to meet the oncoming party. Looking skyward he wondered in what way his friend would appear.

‘Perhaps a ball of fire…nah too classy.’ Connor thought as he continued to scan the skies. He always noted how symmetrical and insane the Coruscant traffic patterns were. They were a tri-layered pattern that criss crossed each other. To go where you wanted you either merged in an ascension or descending pattern to acquit yourself. Literally you could go anywhere; you just had to know where anywhere was on this planet.

Picking a bit of lint of his cloak, he heard a bustle of movement behind him; it was Verilon leading his pack of Padawans with another set of crates. He was well-built man leading them wore a black cloak and had an air about him. The deep black boots seem to engulf all light that came upon it and his tunic and pants were a color of mix between deep red and black. His languorous black hair let the wind blow through it with not a care in the world.

As Verilon passed he saw Spanky, his brother Utsanomiko, Ice, Shroom, and Mitth hauling crates along with hovercars, each box on the hovercart easily equaling one of them in height and four times in width. He assumed this was yet another statue or project of Verilon’s, and he had his five favorite Padawans to accomplish some other masterpiece. Well to say favorite was a bit of a misconception, more akin to five he knew no master would take, well maybe Utsa, so they were delegated to him until a suitable master was to be found or available. But the master who would take Spanky would have to have infinite patience given he tired out even Master Wong with his consistent adherence to some unknown rules.

From his height advantage Verilon called out to one of his shorter students who was staring intently in the direction of a red Twi’leck who had past them.

“Utsa, would kindly not stare at Master Marina?” Verilon said without glancing over. The convoy stopped as he began inspecting the box a small Firrerrian was pushing along. Verilon noted he had set the variable too low and that gravity was pulling down more then it should on the repulsors. Mitth nodded happily as Verilon adjusted the controls the small blue-blonde haired boy had on hovercart.

“I was not staring, that was Shroom; I was merely…” Utsa complained as he shifted his cart to more comfortable position. He maneuvered his grey cloak ever so slightly, and blew a small strand of his brown hair out of his eyes as he pushed his cart along. Taller then Mitth by a centimeter or two but he held himself with more posture and grace giving the appearance of being much more so.

“You were too.” Spanky retorted as he calmly walked past him, his sky blue cloak moving crisply in the wind. He took almost perfect lockstep behind Verilon. Spanky was short, slightly pudgy human, his complexion was a tad pale and he seemed to always have a perpetual snicker on him. He always sounded as if he knew something more then everyone else. Connor just chuckled, if Spanky only knew as much he gave the impression of he would surpass Master Dalton in the Jedi arts. Utsa just rolled his eyes at the remark.

“Of course children. Utsa, you and Shroom were both staring at Master Marina’s chest, while Spanky was merely observing my buttocks in motions.” Verilon said with Shroom and Utsa snickering at Spanky’s open-mouthed response. “Now come along.”

Connor just shook his head as they continued on into the temple. Staring at the mid morning horizon, he wondered again if any of those five would one day find a master each, though the person would either be a slave driver or insane. Though honestly the master would have to be both. Looking up once again he saw a streak that kept defying any sort of the assigned traffic pattern and chuckled. Calmly striding towards the craft’s ultimate destination; he thought at least it wasn’t in the ball of fire, that would’ve be at least classy or appropriate then the loud roar the idiot always entered with.

At the landing platform, Derith flicked the switches off and calmly took of his gloves and looked at the chronometer. Twenty-two minutes, not bad he thought, certainly he could do better but another time; when he had less occupying his mind. He shook his hair into a more manageable position and smoothed out his tunic, and with Connor’s clearing of the throat, turned crisply and faced his friend.

“What? No hi, hello?” Connor said as he raised an eyebrow at Derith’s unreadable expression.

“Hello, Connor.” Derith said with a slight exasperation in his voice. He folded his arms up and just stared at the man he called friend and still wondered how. Connor for his part just shook his head, placed an arm around his shoulders and led him toward the temple.

“One of these days I am going to break this eternal wall you have and you are going to actually crack a something of a smile.” Connor said.

“Nah, you would sooner have Spanky admit he likes women.” Derith retorted smirking in Connor’s direction.

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Inside the massive structure, Verilon lead his group to a half finished statue. He clapped his hands vigorously as he assigned the Padawans their appointed tasks. Utsa and Shroom both groaned as they stared upwards and realized they would be hauling said blocks from the ground. Their complaints were silenced with a single stare. Spanky stood perfectly upright with a smug smile as he was put on ground detail supervising with Verilon of the where the materials would be going. He smiled a tight grin as Mitth and Ice were assigned to handle the blocks to be pushed upwards. Mitth merely just looked at the blocks, then at Master Verilon, and nodded a bit as he let out a long sigh. Ice for his part opened his mouth slightly and shut it as soon as Verilon stared at him with a sharp grimace.

As they shuffled to their assigned tasks, a sharply dressed blonde woman strode past them. Her skin was a deep tanned color from the many hours she worked in a variety of suns. Eyes that were a deep emerald lake and a hair that flowed about her like finely spun silk. She wore a tight fitting cloned black leather outfit that seemed to caress her curves as she walked. Her gait gave a saucy appeal to everything and her cloak coyly waved at the wind. Most of Verilon’s Padawan’s gazed longingly at her, except Spanky who with Verilon gave a single clearing of the throat. She chuckled a little as she passed them and waved to her friend.

“Zaia!” I’Brat said as her friend looked up away from her students. Zaia by contrast held a tad more reserved look about her, but no less exotic. Her skin was a smooth complexion, akin to pearls; her hair was the color of a luminescent late afternoon sky. It flowed down her back and whispered around her blue cloak. Her eyes were deep blue wells that seem to engulf anyone who stared too long. Zaia nodded at her students, who scattered to their other classes. She walked up quickly and hugged I’Brat as she came up to her.

“I’Brat, so what brings you here, today?” Zaia said as she parted from the embrace. She always marveled at her friend’s appearance and the attention it garnered.

“Oh just to say hello, why?” I’Brat said with a coy smile.

“Ibie...I can read it in your eyes, don’t lie.” Zaia said as she began walking down the halls to her next class. “What’s your real reason?”

“Okay, it’s just something I heard from Connor…” I’Brat said as she stopped, she gave a curious expression to contrast her friend’s crooked smile.

“From Connor you say?” Zaia said with one her eyebrows arched and slight grin on her face. She laughed inwardly at I’Brat’s expression. For two people who supposedly hated each other, she enjoyed watching their constant contact with each other.

“What? Oh no, for the twentieth time, there is nothing there. We are at best…competition.” I’Brat said as she brushed her hand through her hair. “And as you know if I was going to pick someone he would be sweet, adventurous, amorous and daring.”

“Of course, because last time he would be dashing as well.” Zaia said with a smile as they continued walking. “So what did, Connor, tell you?”

“The ignoramus has told me that your boyfriend has finally come back.” I’Brat said with a huff. Zaia for her part stopped and looked down at her feet, she let out a little sigh as I’Brat turned and saw the effect was not what she had thought it would be.

“I’m sorr…” I’Brat was about to say but Zaia raised a hand to cut her off.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Zaia said as she straightened out her red tunic and gave her friend a wane smile. “I’m a big girl, I can handle one Derith Rider.”

“All I am saying is that your handling of this whole relationship is akin to a Rancor handling a piece of Alderaanian silk.” Connor said as they walked into the temple. Derith looked at his friend quizzically.

“It’s not over, I still…” Derith was about to say as Connor turned around and raised a hand up to stop him mid speech.

“Right. If you believe that, then you aren’t thinking with your oh so profound logic you claim to have.” Connor replied looking at his friend, hands waving in the air. Derith stopped and a small smile crinkled his lips as Connor continued his waving. “What?” He asked tilting his head slightly.

With that he sighed a little bit as Derith titled his head to the side. The feeling of an all too familiar smirk crawled up his spine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Connor asked he put his arms down and scowled at his friend.

“Because my ‘oh so profound logic’ told me not to.” Derith said as he responded with a slight bow. He calmly walked next to Connor, who turned around and stared directly at I’Brat. Who for her part already had a bemused expression cross her face, Zaia unsuccessfully suppressed a small giggle.

“So what brings your two sorry carcasses here today?” I’Brat said as she stood with her arms at her hips. Derith raised a single eyebrow as he stood his ground with his arms across his chest. Before he could respond Connor leapt forward. His face mere inches from I’Brat’s, their eyes clashing.

“Now listen here you blonde haired, data digging, scruffy looking, nerf herder, how dare you insult this great hero of the Alliance?” He said as I’Brat’s mouth began to open wider, her eyes began to compress into two thin lines.

“Who’s scruffy looking, you lightsaber compensating egotist? And which great hero are you speaking of? All I see is two little boys trying to be men.” She responded with her hands balled up at her sides. Connor for his part took a step back and gave a broad grin across his face.

“Oh I don’t believe your ears FAILED you, woman. This MAN here, has been saving the galaxy while all you have doing is digging like some deranged bore mole.” Connor said as he threw his arm around Derith’s shoulders, which for his part just gave Connor a look of confusion.

“Deranged MOLE? And I’ll have you know at least I do research that means something, rather then hole myself inside some tower poking away at ancient dictionaries searching for some pointless profound conundrum! It’s something you try to do, rather then shoveling texts like some broken down astromech!”

“I DO research you Force bleached wench! Just because I prefer a more civilized take on it, rather then running world to world following pointless leads some two bit Corellian pirate does not mean you do anymore then I do!”

“Pointless LEADS?” I’Brat exclaimed, she placed her face in eye to eye with Connor’s, their hot breath mixing with each other. “I’ll have you know that my pointless leads, as you eloquently put it, was what has lead us to some of the most profound discoveries of the last century!”

“Right, because I VERFIED it!”

“With your pointless little calculations and plodding about!”

“Pointless LITTLE calculations?” Connor exclaimed, as his eyes grew wider. Derith for his part continued to stare at this display as Zaia pulled him aside and walked past the murals as the argument got louder. They stopped in front of Verilon’s group, who had literally stopped all activity when the two looked at each other. Verilon for his part tapped his foot loudly, but to little avail.

“Sometimes I wonder about those two.” Derith said, as he looked at Zaia, her face expressionless. “There’s something wrong.”

“Good, I’m glad your infinite powers of deduction haven’t failed you.” Zaia said as she stopped, looking at Derith with a cold stare.

“I’m going to presume this about the fern?” Derith offered with a sheepish look crossing his face.

“No, the fern is lovely.” Zaia said sternly, exhaling a slow sigh.

A small smile crossed Derith face as he nodded “Oh good.”

“Do you remember what we last discussed when you were here?” Zaia said, her stare killing any remote happiness crossing Derith’s face.

“I believe it was…” Derith offered and stopped as she raised a single eyebrow. “It was a discussion of…”

“It was a discussion of my feelings towards you or don’t you remember that?” She said, still emitting a chilled stare.

“We left on a particularly bad note and I was wanting to resolve that situation at more presentable time.” Derith offered meekly.

“A more…presentable time? A MORE presentable time!” Zaia said with her arms flung in the air. “Well I presume now is a MORE presentable TIME!”

“Perhaps that was a poor wording on my…”

“No, poor wording on your part, was your choices of word spoken to me last time! DO you distinctly remember them, Derith Rider?” She said through her teeth.

“I believe they were ‘I know.’ if I recall correctly.” Derith said looking down away from her.

“You recall correctly.” Zaia said coldly “I’m glad this conveyed your feelings so much better then saying I love you.”

“It was…”

“It was what?” Zaia said with force. “Was it so hard to say it? Because what? Duty, your bloated sense of getting into harm’s way because of some stupid sense of honor?”

“It was never…” Derith tried to say.

“No, it was always that.” Zaia said with chilling finality. “Do you remember the last time we spent together?”

“About a year ago?”

“Do you remember why?”

“I was injured thus could not…”

“Exactly.” Zaia said gritting through her teeth. Her tears fell slowly down. “You never once placed us before your constant missions. I never asked you to place us before them, but you would avoid me at every opportunity…”

“I wasn’t necessarily…”

“So what would you call that the INSTANT you got better, gallivanting across the galaxy on another of Master Durandal’s missions to be?” Zaia exclaimed.

“My duty to…”

“Then I hope your duty keeps you happy.”

“Zaia, that was…”

“It was is what it is, Derith.” Zaia said with small tears forming.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t and I can’t continue to try and be the only trying to make you understand.” Zaia said as she closed her eyes and walked off.

Shoulders slumped in defeat he slowly walked to the door to the lift to the Jedi Council’s inner chambers.

[Zaia]

Oooooooooh. I like muy mucho. Very good.

[haas mark]

Wow............... coming along veeeeeeeeeeeery nicely. I really like how this is turning out. I must say that the idea of Marina as a Twi'leck is highly amusing. Don't know why, though. Also, just out of curiosity, what are everyone's races? I like to get a feel for envisioning the characters while I read.

[InnerBrat]

"Who's scruffy looking?"

Yay!
(can I have a whip? You know you want me to have a whip...)

[haas mark]

"Who's scruffy looking?"

Yay!
(can I have a whip? You know you want me to have a whip...)

You tempt me to call you Dr. Jones.

[Crown]

This seems oddly familiar ...

[Ghost Rider]

This seems oddly familiar ...

Read the first line of the post I did.

I should damn well hope it's familiar

[Crown]

This seems oddly familiar ...

Read the first line of the post I did.

I should damn well hope it's familiar

Easy there tiger. I was being facetious.

EDIT :: Just recieved the PM .... *mutters* dumbass!

[Ghost Rider]

This seems oddly familiar ...

Read the first line of the post I did.

I should damn well hope it's familiar

Easy there tiger. I was being facetious.

EDIT :: Just recieved the PM .... *mutters* dumbass!

[Crown]

My sides hurt!

Don't reply to the PM!

*falls off chair laughing*

[InnerBrat]

"Who's scruffy looking?"

Yay!
(can I have a whip? You know you want me to have a whip...)

You tempt me to call you Dr. Jones.

Oh, don't give me ideas...

[Ghost Rider]

"Who's scruffy looking?"

Yay!
(can I have a whip? You know you want me to have a whip...)

You tempt me to call you Dr. Jones.

Oh, don't give me ideas...

But think you'll have a saucy companion, a whip to play with and you get to face SPACE NAZIS!

[InnerBrat]

But think you'll have a saucy companion, a whip to play with and you get to face SPACE NAZIS!

suppose even Connor's better than a wookiee, eh?

[Ghost Rider]

But think you'll have a saucy companion, a whip to play with and you get to face SPACE NAZIS!

suppose even Connor's better than a wookiee, eh?

Well he won't shed as much .

[InnerBrat]

Well he won't shed as much .

Well, he'd damn well better clean the drains if he does.

[Ghost Rider]

Well he won't shed as much .

Well, he'd damn well better clean the drains if he does.

And how do you think a Hyperdrive works ?

It's all extraneous hair.

[InnerBrat]

And how do you think a Hyperdrive works ?

It's all extraneous hair.

I didn't think it did...

[Zaia]

And how do you think a Hyperdrive works ?

It's all extraneous hair.

I didn't think it did...

Heheheh..

[Ghost Rider]

1-2

“Captain Korr?” a voice echoed across the bridge of the Indomitable . “We received word from outpost #425 that a small task force has entered Sector…”

Korr, for his part was staring at a small datapad that had the latest updates of the Raven battle group, ignored the ensign. He demarcated a small line along the pad and handed it to an aide. “Inform the captain of the Terror to send his fleet to patrol these lines of interest, and inform him this comes from Admiral Valdemar himself.”

“Sir?” The aide said as he tilted his head in the direction of the oncoming ensign. Korr threw the ensign a cold stare, indicating the audience was over, the aide swiftly left.

As the ensign approached, Korr turned to stare out into the void. The ensign stopped his calling in mid step and mid word as he waited for any response from the captain.

“Ensign, do you know where we are?” Korr said.

The ensign stared intently at his superior, unable to fashion an answer. “We are ummm aboard the Indomitable ?”

Korr turned and looked directly at the ensign with a vicious smile laid on his lips. “Excellent, so why do you believe we are at a Corellian Nerf Yard!” With that he outstretched his hand.

“I’m sorry sir…I…” The ensign sputtered.

Korr stood silent as he continued to wait, his foot now tapping in a methodical rhythm. His grey eyes continued to bore into the young man.

“The report, sir.” The ensign said as he handed the datapad. Tapping a few buttons, Korr nodded as the ensign gave a crisp salute and left. The pad had a listing of the locations of fleet elements that he requested as well as any recent events. On thing in particular caught his eye, and shook his head and looked out at the gas giant before them. Soon he thought, soon they will have their proper place within the universe again.

Scanning the bridge of the Indomitable , he let out a small smile. Five years ago this would be consider the premier vessel in but a fleet of two hundred poorly maintained derelict vessels, now it was a small drop in a fleet of thousands. One still does not consider an Executor-Class Star Destroyer small, but it was no longer something maintained for status, it was made for it’s original purpose…war. Korr let his feelings of old angers and hatred sweep into his veins as he remembered the downfall of the Renament and the glory they once held even before that fateful fall. Like every citizen he had learned they were once a great empire that spanned the entire galaxy and beyond. For many years they maintained order and justice in light of the downfall of the Jedi who had abandoned the people. The legends even state that the Chosen one had paved the way for this New Order over the death of the bloated Republic that had so failed the people. Then the legends say a single Jedi by the name of Luke Skywalker had emerged from the fires of rebellion and destroyed the benevolent rule of the New Order. In doing so they retreated as this unrelenting foe pursued them into a small backwater quarter of the galaxy.

They say that a single battle had destroyed the New Order, but Korr never believed it. In his studies of ancient times he saw it was not one, not two but many attempts by pitiful leaders and idiotic plans that drove their best and brightest to be sent into the slaughter again and again. Foolish plans around some asinine super weapon or such not. So they won a few battles and scared the Republic…in the end they failed and further drove the Renament back. They kept fighting pitiful little wars with the Republic until the return of some false grand admiral.

They continued to occupy that pitiful area until a far more implacable foe had forced them to join forces, the Vong. These creatures from beyond were rapacious and had the advantage of that the New Republic were fools and bickering amongst themselves. Korr always though that was what killed so many citizens, the Republic’s pointless rhetoric and inefficiency, for all their talks of peace they established no sense of order or justice but instead had some random hodge podge of agreements. Only by joining forces were they able to destroy this hideous foe and the end of that horrendous affair, though in the end the galaxy was in shambles. But did the Renament take the obvious advantage? No, they had become a mewling spectacle of the Galactic Alliance. This truly sickened Korr as it burned into his heart. How could they not take their rightful place?

Nonetheless the feelings passed as his thoughts came to more recent events. Something changed. Someone with great power had been come to them. This unknown being came about seven years ago with promises no one could fulfill, but he or she fulfilled them. Thousands upon thousands of vessels, the droids and clones to crew them completely, literally the ability to ignite the dying embers of the New Order. And all this being asked was that they cooperate with some plan that had yet to be detailed. There was of course debate over accepting this offer, but in Korr’s mind was there ever any doubt? No, because in the end, chaffing under the rule of the Alliance for all these years and being relegated as some pitiful power had filled every Renament commander, general, captain, moff, and admiral with a zeal to show that they would prove their place in the universe.

He glanced down at the pad and realized Admiral Valdemar was to review this material. Current procedure would likely allow him merely to transfer it up to the admiral’s private chambers, but he rather followed the old rule of showing respect and honor and delivering the object personally. To do otherwise would seem cowardly. “Inform me when the captain of the Terror has completed his task.” He said to his aide as she briskly nodded.

Admiral Valdemar’s private chamber was a former pleasure chamber of the moff, who used the Indomitable as a personal flagship. In the said quarters were a variety of electronic devices, all of which were destroyed or converted. For what purpose, no one knew. When Valdemar raised his flag on the Indomitable this was changed into something else.

Most of the time Korr ran the ship except an occasional word or two when Valdemar came forth. Why, he never understood except they were waiting for a sign or some signal or something. Either way, Korr decided long ago it was unnecessary to know what the admiral did as long as it was going to achieve ultimate victory.

Stepping forward, Korr wiped any crease from his tunic and settled himself. Today, perhaps he would be enlightened, then again perhaps not. “Captain Korr to request an audience with Admiral Valdemar.” He said. “I have pertinent infor…” In mid stride the doors hissed open, beckoning him.

Behind him a chill crawled up his spine, as if eyes pierced into his soul and laid it bare. “Captain.” A cold voice echoed behind him.

Korr steadied himself; he knew they were merely a part of the package. But he didn’t have to like it. “I am here on official business.” He snarled tightly. “Let me pass.”

A pair of cold eyes merely stared at him, as it walked into Korr’s peripheral vision. He felt sweat slowly trickle down his neck. These black-garbed warriors were not of any particular command structure and seemed to only obey the admiral. All that was ever seen under their voluminous robes were their eyes, and there was nothing behind those windows.

“I know, I am performing my duties as per the request of my lord and master.” It finally said as it melded with the darkness. Korr caught the slightest glimpse of metal tube that protruded from the folds of the robe as the being extended its arm towards the hallway. “You may pass.”

Korr said nothing and straightened himself. He turned and walked down until he reached the inner doorway which opened…

Into a brightly lit holographic map of the galaxy.

He slowly walked forward, hesitant at what he was viewing. Everywhere he looked where planets and stars and celestial objects all of it surrounding a chair in the center. Only having had some knowledge of stellar cartography he could tell where in lied Coruscant, Corellia, and a few more notables, but the scale was overwhelming. He did notice though on some of them were flags and other notable signal objects. Wondering what they were for he approached one in the Manaan sector. The star system lit up and expanded into a different format, giving fleet strengths, material production and other information.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice said from the center dais. There sat Admiral Valdemar. In the unfocused light of the room one could make out his deep black hair, his pale grey skin looked alien and even a bit more perturbing then usual in this light, his human frame unmoving. His red eyes were tiny slits as he continued to watch some scene unfold.

Korr suppressed a lump in his throat as he stepped away from the holographic system, and turned to face his host. No one knew of the admiral’s origins, though rumors were he was of some Chiss hybrid, but that was scuttlebutt at best and no one dared to confirm such an audacious thought. “It’s very…unique, sir.”

“Indeed,” Valdemar said. “Though not as one would presume. I merely procured this from one of the Black Sun Vigo’s collections.”

“Yes, sir.” Korr said. “I thought you would want to know of the current fleet positions and the information of current proceedings of the Hapan Confederacy.”

Valdemar nodded and pressed a small button on his chair. The display then transformed itself into the Hapan Confederacy’s entire holdings. Every star system laid bare, planets happily orbiting blue, red and yellow suns. “I’m to presume that it has still not reached its intended fruition?”

“As of yet?” Korr said as he gazed at the map again “No sir, but our intelligence reports that all will proceed in our favor by the end of the week.”

For a single moment Valdemar said nothing. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t believe it will. It’s possible that it can be salvaged into something suitable but the course of action currently pursued is both foolish and dangerous.” With that Valdemar rose to his full height and fully opened his red eyes.

Korr looked directly at the admiral and wondered how different would have all been if he had existed before. He had heard that the New Order policy was stringent and heavily biased against many races but never made any real sense of it. Neither the Galactic Alliance records could be trusted nor the Renament’s. Why limit oneself to only a particular race, each being has purpose regardless of creed. Nonetheless the admiral would have made himself into something, possibly even Grand Admiral. Right now he was the head of the fleet and the commander of their forces, simply because the moffs knew of no one else to utilize and their benefactor placed him there, and he has never once brooked any sort of failure. “If you say so, who am I to brook an argument?”

“No, you may speak freely on this matter,” the admiral offered. “I do not require sycophants under my command.”

“It’s just a matter that we are on the cusp of our glorious return,” Korr said. “In a year’s time we will make ourselves known and take our rightful place again in the galactic order.”

“Do you truly believe that the galaxy will merely kneel before us?” Valdemar said as he waved across his map. “No, Captain Korr. When we are ready, there will be a long and bloody war, one that the galaxy has not seen since the days of the Vong and worse.”

Korr was about to respond as a loud klaxon reverberated the room. “Bridge to Admiral Valdemar,” Lt Howedar called out nervously over the intercom. “An Alliance taskforce has entered the sector.”

Valdemar gave a small smile as he pressed an intercom switch on his wrist. “This is Admiral Valdemar. Transmit all data to my room.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant said. Korr looked as the display around him change and swirl then focus upon the sector they were in. He noted the Indomitable and out bloomed were seven Nebulon-B refits, a MC-95, and five wings of variety of X-Wing, E-Wing and K-Wings. The X-Wings were taking point in a vee formation with the other ships an appreciable distance away. Silently he swore to himself, they were relatively unprepared for an assault of any level and the crew was largely inexperienced. Added to the fact that if their presence was revealed at this juncture all their plans would at best be set back years, at worst the galaxy would harden themselves for the oncoming conflict. “Prepare us for the jump to lightspeed, Lieutenant.”

“Belay that order Lieutenant.” Valdemar said calmly as Korr was heading towards the door. “Alert the wing commander and prepare for a magnum launch.”

“Sir?” Korr said as he spun around.

“I believe you are vastly underestimating our advantages.” Valdemar said as he walked over to the display. “We are under an near impenetrable cloaking field, even if they had a Crystal Gravity Trap within one of their ships, they would not be able to pierce the Stygian Cloaking Field we have.”

“Are you certain, sir?” Korr said as he saw the Admiral pursing his lips at the display.

“Quite, as well as our other obvious advantage.” Valdemar said as he waved Korr to approach closer. “Now let us see how truly prepared they are for such an interesting surprise attack. Assemble the wings and extend the shield two thousand kilometers around us, have the fighters remain there until my mark.”

The display next to Korr lit up again as the fighters were launched and then kept pace with the command cruiser as it proceeded forward. He noted the Alliance forces made no gesture, no notice of anything. This in fact surprised him given the amount of activity involved. Could it be true that their cloaking field was that powerful? Never before had Korr heard of such, but the facts and his eyes do not lie. The Indomitable now positioned itself easily with prime range of the heavy and medium gun and batteries for a precise assault on the flagship of the small assault group. The reaction of the opposition was to slowly plod forward with no hesitation.

Valdemar looked at the display as he sat back down into his chair and pressed a few more buttons. “Jam all transmissions and set a thirty degree yaw rotation. And inform the wing commander that I want two squadrons for the sole purpose for stragglers. I want no survivors.”

Korr looked at him with amazement. Valdemar for his part raised a single eyebrow, without taking his eyes of the screen. “Yes, Captain?”

“No one would fall such a simple battle plan, in fact…”

“In fact they will.” Valdemar said when he finally looked at his Captain. “If you note the markings, you’ll see they aren’t of even the same battle group.”

“Markings, sir?” Korr said in disbelief, walled over and gave a closer look. He noted there were some slight differences but nothing that stood out. “I see them, but…”

“Then watch and learn.”

With that Korr saw the forces on the screen assemble into particular vectors and saw the effect of their ship’s sudden appearance on the assault group. They scattered into smaller disorganized group, no central thought, planning, or even preparation. The MC-95 looked to try to position itself into a primary firing position but was hindered by the two assault carriers flanking it. The fighter squadrons also appeared to have little co-ordination as the bombers streaked forward without escorts. It was as if there were two, possibly three captains leading the opposition, and somehow communication completely failed between them. If it were not the Alliance, Korr would have found it quite sickening in it's ineptitude. “Bridge, you may fire when ready.”

“But how?” Korr asked as he saw the images continue their mad dance.

“This is the inherent problem we must keep for our plan to succeed.” Valdemar said with a quiet grace. “The Alliance has one too many independent powers that even the smallest of groups must have representation from a couple of governments, this does not promote any sort of tactical sharing.”

Korr continued to stare and a mere twenty minutes later, it was over.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derith stepped out of the lift and into the hallway of heroes. Bathing in the natural light from above laid murals of the greatest of Jedi victories from as far back as the Sith wars to the Vong and beyond. A myriad of colors and designs were laid about showing the vast different styles of art of the times. Along side each mural was a Jedi of that time was considered to be one of the pillars that defined times. Ranging as far back as Nomi Sunrider to the more recent of Ben Skywalker and his kin. The one that always held Derith interest was Luke’s adventures, hearing about a single boy rising up and defeating the greatest of Sith Lords was always something he enjoyed to hear as a youth before he became what he was. Still as he looked upon Luke’s visage he gave a small smile.

“I hope in matters of duty and love,” Derith said as he downcast his eyes at the plaque “Things in your days were just as complicated and as confusing.” The statue didn’t respond.

Stepping towards the enormous door he straighten out his tunic and let out a small sigh, all the uncertainty and confusion of his recent troubles evaporated. Romantic notions and problems with relationships were somewhat disturbing to him since they followed no real train of anything, and were most of the times confusing at best. But duty and his place within the Order and his fulfillment of it…these were subjects he could embrace head on and vigor. Still even with this bolstering him Zaia’s words about how he handled such things bit him at this juncture. He closed his eyes and shook those words aside as he would deal with them and her another time…when he had more time to think, to concentrate. Derith disliked intangibles, especially when they impaired as such.

The massive door opened of their accord and he was great with a chamber filled with light from the far end of the room. He stopped short of going more then a little beyond the door, unknown of how to proceed. Unlike the hallway before the room was bare of anything except five seats of varying sizes and vast windows overlooking a great deal of Coruscant. At the far end of the room stood a small, wizened creature humming gently to itself, gazing into the horizon before it. In this light one could see it was a tiny creature, of origins still was never found nor known. In all the hundreds of centuries of the Order, there have only existed perhaps five maybe six of these creatures. Their skin was usually of green or brownish hue and of a height that barely reached up to Derith stomach. Small wisps of hair protruded from its wrinkly head, but even more noticeable were to great ears that extended horizontally from it. Certainly not the strangest of Masters which the Order could proclaim many unusual lifeforms have become but one of the more noted since one of it’s ilk was known to teach one Luke Skywalker into reviving the Order after the Great Purge.

If the small creature took notice of Derith’s entrance, it gave no notice. It simply kept proceeding to do what it had been doing all morning, which was apparently staring into the horizon, chewing on it’s small cane every once in a while. Derith stood patiently; not knowing how to proceed. His eyes darted about as if to catch something, or someone that he noticed wasn’t there.

“Come in, young Jedi.” Master Wong said, his quiet voice said. Its elongated ears twitched ever so slightly. “A question, have you?”

“Yes…”Derith said, He slowly treaded forward, his eyes still wandering. The master must have seen his surface thoughts and he did not know how to press the question forward without appearing foolish. “It’s just that…”

“Your thought, invade I did not. Your eyes spoke.” Wong said with a little smile appearing on his mouth.

Derith straightened himself, chiding that he let himself to be so easily read.

“Amongst the Council, Master Durandal is not.” Wong said, and even with Derith’s ears he noted a small regret. “The council he left, many months ago.”

“So that mission was his last one would have given to me?” Derith said, he wondered why within his thoughts. The mission was nothing of any real note, and his former master did not seem to have some more pressing matters or some conflict with the Council.

“Perhaps,” Master Wong said as he tottered to Derith “The report I would like hear.”

“Of course.” Derith said as he pulled out a small pad from within his cloak. While giving his reports he himself noted some unusual conclusions that he had not seen before. Feeling foolish, he chided himself on the obvious clues he had missed, later when he had time and when his mind was not clouded. He waited for any criticism from Master Wong after he had finished the report.

“Able to resolve to a successful conclusion, were you?” The small creature said looking at him for a response, his ears twitching

“No, I wasn’t.” Derith said with regret in his voice. “Perhaps if I had more time, and didn’t start off in such a dismal point.”

Wong raised a single wrinkled eyebrow. He turned and stared at the young Jedi, his mouth a single thin line.

“Initially it seemed nothing more then a survey of ravaged worlds,” Derith said. “But when I discovered there were numerous planets that were ravaged almost exactly in the same manner I found a pattern I was not informed of. Even the most incompetent of survey teams would have noticed this failure.”

“Why?”

“Because while it had the appearance of being ravaged by some monstrous force or unknown fleet, the fact remained that it ravaged anything, and that there was a discernable sectioning of how this was done. Entire worlds are not ravaged by a grid pattern. Also for some reason it avoided highly populated areas for no reason, some were attacked, others avoided. Thus when I was called into to investigate two thousand planets were destroyed in a similar fashion, so to the point I could only account in orbit.”

Wong nodded. “Request for more time, why? Conclusion you had reached in far less.”

“Because my starting point was a poor one.” Derith said in frustration, he pulled out a small ball and placed it on the ground. A green illumination sprang forth giving a three dimensional map of the affected worlds. Within it one could see stars and planets as the hovered in space, also attached were specific flags of different colors demarcating importance. Derith pointed to one closest to him. “Here is where I started, one that I found had traces of some large vehicle, but over a year old. Worse still there were conflicting conclusions amongst the layer and samples”

“Delay your search this did how?”

“Because apparently I was on the wrong side of the galaxy.” Derith fumed as he paced about. “When I investigated the worlds within that Manaan star system, the government had told me they reported this a long time ago, as far back as five years ago. And as suddenly the things appeared they vanished. So I continue to track them to other star systems and finally reached one where the trail was fresh for a matter of days, then…”

“The Council requested your presence.” Wong mused.

“Exactly.” Derith said, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The ball effortlessly flew through the air in his hand. “Now that I deferred my report I would like to continue my search.”

“When this mission you complete, perhaps.”

Derith opened his mouth but thought wiser for it, Wong was many things, but he rarely brooked an argument and this time appeared to be no different then any other. “What does this mission entail Master Wong?”

“A trait you so rarely employ, diplomacy.”

Derith shifted nervously. For one when Wong always had a slight singsong tone to his voice as well as an odd almost backwards speech, except when he chided someone or was being serious. Also a mission involving diplomacy was hardly high on his list of specialties, to him he would rather see Marina, Zaia or even the newest star of the Order, Kuja to be sent on this mission. “Master…could you not send someone with perhaps more a predilection towards this particular subject?”

“Unable to complete a simple task as such, are you implying?” Wong said steeling his gaze at the young Jedi.

“I am many things, but I am no diplomat.” Derith said sighing a bit. “My talents most assuredly lie…”

“Elsewhere, indeed.” Wong said with a dark overtone. “Violence of an unheard nature, coldness to many living things, your talents are of a nature similar to the Dark Side, are they not?”

Derith grimaced at the statement. The Order since its inception has always been for the preservation of peace. Jedi began to diversify their roles to better suit their natural talents, some in healing, some in the arts, some in combat. For the Jedi combat was always a weapon of last resort, preferring not to let feelings of passion and anger to overwhelm them and begin one terrible journey down the dark path. But the Jedi admitted that combat was a part of them, and formed a small sect devoted to this after the war with the Vong. Feeling that they could control the passion they devoted themselves to performing a more proactive justice, and while they had their success, they were amongst the worst when turned. Wong was there when he saw the first to turn and protested for its creation but as of recent a Jedi of surprising charisma ascended to the ranks and was of that particular sect.

Durandal not revived it but had in many eyes created the most stable within that sect. His students were always capable beings, even with the sect high mortalities. Each of his students served the Order well, and in his opinion his magnum opus was Derith. Derith though felt he was no exception to his master’s teachings; he believed that his survival was that he obeyed his master’s teaching and learned from his mistakes. He did admit though he always felt most alive when he was in combat…well almost until recent. But his failure in any sort of feeling had hindered him. In the end though Wong had protested and stared at the young Jedi with an intense sadness.

“Still the mission, you can handle.” Wong said as he turned and tottered over to the window. “Oversee negotiations, all you have to do.” A small circular disc appeared from Master Wong’s robes and flew in Derith’s hands. Examining the object with curiosity, he placed it within the folds of his tunic and bowed low as he walked back to the Temple proper.

[InnerBrat]

Ah, crap, the splitting of this thread lost my watching status.

Good work, GR

[Ghost Rider]

Okay after gaining passage out of the Sarlacc and a promise I made to two women.

Here goes.

So .

1-3

In the Great Hall of the Jedi Temple, small glow globes hovered throughout, illuminating any shadow, providing light to any corner. The larger ones cast their yellow light in a comforting circle with smaller ones zooming about, giving light to any who needed it.

Beneath these talismans were enourmous marble edifices and the bustle of a many thousand unique people milling about on different business, all in the service of the galaxy. In one particular corner though was a man who was trying to erect yet another statue, with little help from his students.

“Padawans, would you kindly finish bickering and complete the head!” Verilon bellowed. There were days, nay weeks he pondered why did he ever volunteer for any of this. Then he remembered; all of it was to essentially for the day he would have a post on the Council itself or something beyond simple knighthood. It was a noble goal, but at times he had to admit possibly the most strenuous of goals.

He loved and cherished art; in fact at one point the Coruscant Holo had labeled him as the predominant star of the Jedi. His work brought fame across the galaxy and the holos had labeled him as charming, witty and touched with a bit of madness. Right now he questioned the charm and wit and truly wanted a bit more of that so called madness. He looked around the hall and estimated that a good portion of his life was spent her, constructing a few here and there pieces of a statue. His proudest was still his statue of Master Wong, the style and the subtleties used in that particular work was what vaulted him from merely another face to the predominant Jedi sculptor. Still if he ever wanted someone to one day to take over his legacy, it was either a child or better still a Padawan, more preferably someone he personally trained. Still he figured some event of his demise would not happen for possibly tens of decades, still he wanted precautions. So he took up the ones that would be posted some unknown duty and create as many students he took it upon himself to train. He continued helping those who were considered reprobates, help them learn the code, keep them sharp so they don’t end up on some backwater post in the middle of Tatooine or anything.

Now though, he just wished he had just one Padawan and not five, because one would not be so constant about complaining about one simple direction. The fiasco had gone on for at least twenty minutes; but really, Verilon didn’t care after the first five. The two in question stood at the headless upper portion of the statue. While Ice and Shroom were gingerly balancing the head onto the shoulder as two others argued over placement.

“It belongs here.” Utsa stated, pointing at the center of the neck area.

“Yeah, if you’re a blind Rylothian bindersnap!” Mitth screamed as he stomped on the platform. “It goes over there!”

“Yeah, now if you actually used your eyes, you retarded Corellian bat, you would know the direct center is here.” He retorted waving his hands wildly.

Regardless of the fact he told them where, they had to argue. It had to be some twisted reasoning within the Force that allowed this to happen. If he didn’t give an order, they stood there almost dumbfounded, unaware of initiative or thought. But if he gives an order they have to resist it, until he proved otherwise.

‘Still this was better then the last batch of Padawans I had.’ he sighed at the thought. Looking up and seeing that Shroom on the other hand was trying to keep the head in some stable position to little avail. He merely readjusted his energies to help the poor boy out. Utsa and Mitth, while intelligent were far better suited to different fields. Mitth especially was a much more healing orientated. He supposed if Zaia wasn’t already training Maya, she could train him. Utsa was more research, but sending him to Connor would not be so bad…if Connor took Padawans, perhaps Crown.

‘A possibility.’ he thought as Shroom began helping the balancing with his guidance ‘but not likely.’ Shroom in his mind while diligent was at times too erratic or better still unaware of his surroundings. Still at least he tried compared to Ice. He was just looking at the many females that passed by the statue instead of actually helping Shroom, combat being at least something he parlayed some skill in.

‘I suppose Wilson or Dalton.’ He thought as he followed Ice’s eyes to Foo’s passing figure. ‘Or perhaps…Derith.’ He cleared his throat at Ice to gain his attention, to which the boy immediately began working again.

And then at the end there was Spanky, who for all his bluster and attitude was actually quite competent, he just needed to grasp he wasn’t a Jedi Knight. Currently he was following the most logical course of action, he was deferring to higher authority by tugging on said authority’s cape. Verilon just rubbed the bridge of his nose; begging the Force to release him from this.

“Master?” Spanky chimed in at the most inopportune moment. Verilon let out an audible sigh as he looked down. He could in his mind hear the litany of charges compounded to what was happening now…everything from Ice was staring at someone again, or how Mitth was being lazy or anything of some importance only he could see. It always seemed that no injustice ever escaped Spanky’s eyes, except his.

“Yes, Padawan? What is wrong, now?” Verilon asked with a heavy voice.

“Several things, master. But first and foremost is that the center of the statue is obviously…” Spanky said as he moved his hands about. As he gestured a shadow suddenly loomed over Spanky. No sound was made from its approach and it consumed all light around the boy at the moment. In an act of unheard of bravery he abruptly stopped his speech, turned to berate the obvious idiot of their action for dare shrouding him.

“Right where Verilon obviously said it to be.” The shadow replied. Squinting to see to see a pair of dark eyes boring into him, Spanky for the first time that day, fell silent. Letting a little chuckle leave his lips, Verilon grabbed Dennis by the shoulders and hugged him.

“Now, now a display of emotion from you?” Derith chided. “In front of the students?”

“A display of emotion from me? I’m not the one they call Dark Spawn of the Sith.” Verilon answered sarcastically. “So, what brings you to us lesser Jedi? Not the statue, obviously.”

“Actually, yes, the statue.”

Verilon tilted his head a bit, wondering about the statement at hand.

“Have I ever missed viewing one of your works?” Derith asked.

“No, you never have.” Verilon sighed. “If you only gave as much time with Zaia as you…” Verilon quietly added.

“Hmm?” Derith asked, as he looked at the statue in greater detail, devoting his attention to it and it alone.

“Nonetheless. What’s wrong with it?” Verilon sarcastically asked.

Derith turned his head ever so slightly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You have always, without fail, come to state what is wrong with one of my creations.” Verilon said as he steadied the head of the statue. At this gesture, Utsa stuck his tongue out at Mitth, for feeling vindicated that he was right. “I consider it one of the highlights of our friendship.”

Derith had a smile tug at the edges of his mouth and continue to look, his eyes wavered to the left and right, and he gave one final nod. “The hair.”

“The hair?” Verilon said. He looked at the head and then at Derith and looked at the head again. Spanky and the others just looked at the head wondering what Derith was seeing. “It’s…perfect.”

“No, it isn’t.” Derith answered plainly. Verilon stepped forward, craning his neck every so slightly to get an even closer look, with his eyes slowly peering to Derith as he added. “It’s unkempt, literally. While the hair in the artistic sense is perfect, in with the subject, it’s not perfect for him. It gives him…”

“Humanity.” Verilon proudly stated as he extended his arm towards the head.

“Heh.” Derith whispered.

“Pardon?”

Derith made no motion to the words and continued to stare at the statue.

Verilon just shook his head, and then he suddenly felt a chill through his body for but a second. The air around him felt as though it had suddenly dipped and all the warmth that had been there, sucked dry. When turned to face the source of it, all he could see was a tall peppered haired man beaming at him. Eyes that were of pure blue gazed at him with a steely gaze of power and respect as he nodded silently for no response. The man was swathed in pure white in all things from his clothes to his boots; he seemed to be the very antithesis of what he had just felt. The man gave him a small wink at Verilon and stood behind Derith, observing the statue.

“And honestly, Ver.” Derith sarcastically added, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upward as he sensed someone behind him. “The statue is far too small to ever to hope to contain his endless ego.”

“How the mighty have fallen.” The man said his tone filled with bite and friendship. “At one time, Derith Rider, would’ve proudly proclaimed the real reason something is wrong is that the very fact there is warmth or gentleness in the statue’s features must indicate it is anyone but me.”

“Master Durandal.” Derith said smiling, as he turned to face his former master.

“Lord…Durandal, my former Padawan.” Durandal responded, his eyes not meeting his former apprentice’s as he gave the statue his full attention. “I hope the Council had told you of my…retirement.”

“They…” Derith started to say, Durandal stopped him with a wave of his hand.

“He’s right, Verilon.” Durandal said as he coldly scrutinized the statue’s head. “The statue’s hair is too scruffy. I expected so much better from one of your supposed skill.”

Verilon raised a single eyebrow at this man’s singular analysis. While Durandal commanded respect, it was one thing to give a friendly critique another to demean his work. Before Verilon responded Derith intervened. “Lord Durandal, I have matters to discuss with you privately.”

“You do?” Durandal said as he took his eyes off the statue for the first time. “Oh right, the mission…of course.”

Walking off, Derith turned to Verilon and added. “Keep the hair, Verilon. It gives the subject, a certain…humanity that it lacks otherwise.”

The pair briskly strode through the temple in silence. Derith was alone in his thoughts, Durandal finally turned and smiled. “Why?”

“Hmm?”

“The defense of your friend.” Durandal asked with no mistake of the pride in his voice. He casually brushed aside a lock of his peppered hair and added, “When you were a Padawan, you would have never been so bold about such things.”

“I haven’t been your Padawan for many years.” Derith said as he stopped and tilted his head to glance at his former teacher. His voice had no tone of approval or denial.

“Quite.” Durandal said with a smile. “Allow me to venture a small guess. You want to know why I was here today?”

“It had crossed my mind.” Derith answered.

“I wanted to see how my visage would be portrayed, and you happened to be there at Verilon’s current project.” Durandal replied noncommittally.

Derith shook his head. “That’s all?”

“There is another matter, but one that doesn’t concern you at the moment.” Durandal retorted.

“Not at the moment?”

“When the time comes, you shall be fully informed of the events.” Durandal chided. “Always wanting to know things that aren’t of your direct concern.”

“Everything eventually has a concern of something, I just wish to know it before it becomes something incapable of being handled.”

Durandal shook his head with a smile. “Always the detective.”

“You taught me.” Derith replied with a smirk. “Though one thing has crossed my mind. Why did you leave the Council without informing me, beforehand.”

Durandal turned to look at his friend for what seemed to first time in a long time. He stood directly in front of him, their eyes within a hair’s distance of each other. “I left because I had felt I could do more for the galaxy then stay here and constantly trading blows with the Council.”

Arms akimbo, Derith waited, unsatisfied.

“Was that not…satisfactory for you, Jedi?” Durandal asked harshly.

“No.”

“How so? Isn’t it obvious my young friend?” Durandal answered with a hint of disgust. “The Council favors a more hands off approach; I, on the other hand, prefer to interact with the people.”

“Interact?” Derith asked. “Don’t you mean control?”

“Is that not what the Jedi are meant to do?” Durandal shot back. Derith continued their contest.

“You don’t believe that…do you?”

“You are not naïve to what are the goals of the Order are, so do not act as such.” Durandal measured his student.

“No, I’m not naïve. But you are directly saying that Jedi Council and Skywalker himself were wrong. That sort of hubris does not suit you.” Derith responded looking Durandal in the eye. “We are guardians of…”

“Guardians...bah. We are sent on missions of vital importance, we make choices that in the end, determines the fate of thousands.” Durandal said as he gestured across the expanse of the temple. “We, not the Alliance, are the very glue that binds the galaxy into a cohesive structure.”

“That is what guardians do.” Derith replied. “We help those who need it.”

“One day, perhaps you will see that the people can never truly govern themselves in any respectable manner. In fact, history supports me in that how the Old Republic and even its newer counterpart failed horribly without the Jedi’s…so called guidance.”

“History has also shown us what would happen when a Force wielder was placed in charge.” Derith retorted.

“That was a Sith lord.” Durandal corrected.

“How does that change the premise that a being who believed because he had the Force that he was wiser then everyone around him?” Derith replied.

“There is a vast difference, my friend.” Durandal said smoothing his cloak. “I merely believe that the Jedi should have a more intimate approach to galactic affairs, instead of the role of cosmic janitor.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” Durandal exclaimed. “We are simply better then the rabble.”

Upon that statement, Derith cocked his head to face his former master. Eyes, that once held nothing but obedience and reverence, scrutinized with eerie precision along the self same man whom taught him these skills. He reviewed every quirk, every facial nuance, and every movement of the past few minutes. Reviewing every fact until he had come up with a logical conclusion that satisfied him. All the fact now tumbled in his brain for later examination if at such time it was needed to deal with his teacher. In the end, his only response was a simple rising of an eyebrow.

“Heh.” Durandal replied, shaking his head. He strode forward again with Derith keeping pace. A few Jedi recognized Durandal and just stood in awe of him. “I am sorry though, to derail the subject off onto a tangent and I know you have many questions about the mission.”

“Of course.” Derith said. “I suppose my first question would be…why me?”

“Hmm?”

“I presented the question to Master Wong and…”

“He replied of course that you must expand your repertoire or some such nonsense?” Durandal replied with a hint of sadness. Derith quizzically stared at him. “Always the most complicated answer for the simplest of questions.”

“I saw some truth to the matter and that…”

“My friend, you were chosen by me because you are best suited for this particular situation.” Durandal interrupted. Stopping mid stride, Derith just stared at his former master.

“How so?”

“You believe the situation to be of a diplomatic nature, correct?” Durandal answered, looking back at his former student.

“Are you implying otherwise?” Derith said, scrutinizing the man intensely.

“The mission is nothing more then a display of martial might.” Durandal dismissively answered. “The reason I asked for you was simple, your talents are most suited for this mission.”

“To stand there like a strutting Hutt covered in Taloc grease?” Derith retorted.

“No!” Durandal responded with anger. He shook his head as he continued. “Partially, it is to assure the Hapans that I am a beneficent lord and protector of his people.”

“And?” Derith asked suspiciously.

Durandal swept the room back and forth with his eyes and when assured of who was there. “I have reasons that the Bothans is not being completely up front of this particular operation. Ever since their ascendance to a larger galactic power, they have shown some particular interests with the Hapans. An unhealthy interest; I wish to find out about certain facets that will be obvious when you arrive there. So sending you would just simply be a logical response.”

“Ah.” Derith nodded.

“So you see, I wish you to keep your ears and eyes open my friend.”

“Of course, if there is nothing more?” Derith said as he started to walk away.

“One thing.” Durandal answered gravely as they entered the sunlight. “There is something that has killed many Jedi, the latest being Master S’tev’e. Beware the power of the Dark Side, my friend. This being has killed many Jedi and will kill again.”

“You suspect the Sith?”

“I suspect many things, but I urge you to err of the side of caution.”

Derith smiled at the remark. “Appreciated but unnecessary.”

“How so?” Durandal questioned, his arms akimbo as Derith strode past him.

“It will find me, and it will die.” Derith answered without turning to face his master. “Simple as that.”

And with that he marched off into Coruscant’s horizon, a broad smile emblazoned on Durandal’s face as he turned back to the Jedi Temple to deal with his other piece of business.

============================================

“…And that is the current held theory of molecular manipulation with applications of telekinesis. Any questions?” Connor inquired as the Padawans and younglings quickly filed out. He regarded the throng of students that walked away, jabbering amongst themselves about the speech and other things. The students had a more attentive air this time, perhaps because the subject he was regarding upon was not some esoteric babble that only a few could grasp the concept, but a defined purpose and usage of the Force. That in particular fascinated him. His discussions of the esoteric were as much relevance to the discussion of the Force as his practical, if not more so. If for nothing else the Force was so encompassing that discussing, as just physicality would be of a grave injustice. Ah, well…I’Brat in on of her more sane moments would understand him. Looking at the hall’s clock, he noted this particular one only took a good four hours and no one needed a rapping on the desk.

“Getting a bit better, and she says I’m boring.” Connor smirked. “Boring am I? Does she attract that level of rapt attention? I think not!”

“It is perhaps that your discussion was of more use to the Padawans this time.”

From his right hand side, a tall Chiss man was looking at him. He stopped collecting his variety of holodiscs and datapads; he turned to see the serene figure of Master Prec'row'nadan. Connor caught himself before making any stumbling moves, surprised at that he neither felt nor saw the Chiss appear, but shook it away; his mind was simply not there a few moments ago. Crown for his part was amused at his former student’s reaction, but only let a simple smile show.

Connor regained himself in the span of a single thought and looked upon his former master, and prided himself that he could stand as peers with this being. Crown struck an impressive figure; his slicked grey-black hair gave him a dignified look, above and beyond his status. The piercing red eyes that all Chiss have, gave him the appearance that he weighed everything in a single moment. Around him flowed a simple cobalt blue robes that gave him the distinct appearance of his feet never touching the ground. To many Jedi he was one of the most soothing and serene. To others he was the most unnerving Jedi Masters since he so rarely betrayed any emotion whether good or ill, Connor always prided himself that he could look upon those eyes and return a smile.

“You’re too kind, Master Crown.” Connor smiled.

“I would never belittle your abilities.” Crown said as Connor smiled. “I just was merely pointing out the obvious.”

Connor chuckled lightly at the response. Perhaps, Zaia always did mention something along those lines. Still he slowly collected the last of his materials and placed them into his small satchel and turned to face his master who held out a small datapad. “But I do have a personal request of your skills.”

“What is this?” He asked as he took the small pad. The datapad initial screen had no specific header or any defining points.

“It is of a matter of great importance to the Jedi Council and I wish another pair of learned eyes to review it.” Crown said as Connor continue to examine the small pad. “But I do wish that you do not tell anyone of what you learn from this.”

“Any particular reason not to inform anyone else?” Connor asked as he found the contents.

“Yes, a personal one.” Crown said quietly.

“Very well.” Connor shrugged. It was of some interest that his master would want it to remain between them. Over the years of gaining his knighthood, his master had assigned him to a few of these queries, but never told him the scope of said projects, but oddly he had a feeling they connected somehow, in some way. Perhaps in doing the research of this one he would invariably uncover why. “Any specific time you want my results?”

“Within three days.” Crown answered. Connor nodded as Crown left. What confused him the most of the material was that it seemed to be a planetary survey record. Why would the Council care of such a thing?

Durandal was nodded as the variety of Jedi passed and gave deference. If he felt any sense of loss for leaving, he gave no reaction since it would be simply beneath him. Accompanying him was a dashing young man in red robes. He nodded and smiled to each passing Jedi and was in small awe of the attention this man garnered. Though in all honesty he expected no less, and realized why this man was considered to be one of the greatest of Jedi Masters.

“Do not fret so much Kuja, I assure you that the Council has heard my decision and when Derith returns they will tell him of the good news.” Durandal said proudly.

“I know…I’m just…” Kuja answered as he fretted over words. To him this was all too unusual, personally he hated when a situation was not under his full control. Eight months ago he was trying to find his center after a personal disaster, and now, and now he was before a man who had used his personal power to allow him to not only recover but correct any wrongs of the past.

“Anxious?” Durandal interrupted.

“Exactly.” Kuja answered with a sigh.

“I can understand it, the past eight months have been most interesting for you.”

“They have, and in no small part due to you.” Kuja responded happily. “I owe a great deal to you. You personally opened my eyes, even after my failure on Cestus six.”

“Think nothing of it my friend. I saw immense potential in you and I just merely guided you onto a path that would enhance your skills. You have shown immense potential in diplomatic skills but when you mentioned you wish to enhance your other skills to further help your fellow citizens, I felt I needed to personally intervene and direct you along the correct path.” Durandal answered nonchalantly.

“Not just that Master Durandal.”

“What other thing could there possibly be?”

“Zaia.”

“Oh…her.” Durandal answered with a hint of disgust. “Think nothing of it.”

“But you did help me greatly with her, I would’ve never approached her if not for your encouragement.”

Durandal shook his head lightly, ignoring Kuja’s remarks. “Still my friend, if you ever require a friendly ear; please, think of me. Now, I have some business to attend to and my time here is short.”

“Of course, and thank you again.” With that Kuja bowed deferentially to Master Durandal as he strode off. He pushed aside a small lock of dirty blonde out of his face and turned around to see Connor before him, watching Durandal walk off, his face a thinly veiled look of disgust.

“Why you trust that being, I will never understand.” Connor said.

“He is a great man.” Kuja answered sharply.

“Yes he is. As long as you ignore how he treats most beings and just see him for his accomplishments.”

“I suppose the same could be said for anyone.”

“Heh.” That was the extent of Connor’s answer. He continued to walk towards the Jedi library, Kuja on the other hand, followed closely behind seeking an answer. Personally he hated such a retort since it could mean anything and he felt that a more deserving response was needed. He continued to follow Connor until he engendered a response that he felt was adequate.

“Well?” Kuja asked.

“Yes, Padawan?” Connor asked with a hint of condensation.

Kuja narrowed his eyes slightly and in his head slightly remembered a few rules about diplomacy. Never attack, always placate and find the peaceful solution. Slowly counting to ten, he opened his eyes again. “I was wondering if you could…illustrate your point to a more defined meaning.”

Connor stood and his eyes weighed the boy before him. If he remembered correctly a boy of a mere twenty galactic years of age, though him being only turned thirty, the difference was slight. But what gave Connor a bit of pause was the sheer force of will in the statement. Most Padawans would have dropped the matter when discussing such things with another of higher station, and certainly would not have pressed the matter. Connor found it amusing. “You have no idea of the man, do you?”

“You already said that. In many ways what you said was nothing more then your point of view of him. So I asked you to further illustrate this.”

Connor shook his head, rubbing his temples. “Kuja, asking anyone what they think of someone is always a point of view.”

“Exactly, which is why I consider him a great Jedi.” Kuja answered defiantly. He visibly puffed his chest forward. “Unless you can give something factual of your point of view, it’s nothing more then your own illogical standard.”

“Perhaps, but my personal experiences provide me all the facts I need to know of this man.” Connor answered. “The facts that I have experienced do not lie.”

“The demonstrate these facts that you have experienced, maybe I’ll learn something from it.” Kuja answered evenly. “In the end, that will determine who has the better point of view, wouldn’t it?”

Connor nodded and gave a small smirk. “It is, but here’s a point. Derith as a mere youngling was practically an inept boy.”

Kuja just stared at Connor with complete disbelief.

“I know you are thinking I have finally gone insane or stupid, but no, Derith was below average youngling. No significant skills, he was cheerful but had a tendency to be clumsy.”

“Clumsy.” Kuja repeated with the same disbelief.

“Yes, clumsy.” Connor echoed but with heavy mirth in his voice. “He was not this Jedi super being….until much later, but I digress. He was clumsy.”

“How so?”

“During the stun orb test, he failed to get beyond three.”

Kuja stopped and just stared a bit, his cloak seemed to droop at the thought of his idol being so bad. “I don’t believe you.” He said.

“It’s a matter of public record, nonetheless, not the end of the tale…if you’ll let me finish?”

Kuja just nodded.

“So each of the masters at the time chose one of us based upon this as well as other skills of oration and what we seemed to lean towards. Derith excelled in nothing, but for some reason Durandal chose him.” Connor said. He noticed immediately Kuja puffed up a bit more visibly at the mention of Durandal’s name and silently chuckled.

“He must have seen the potential within him.”

“No, Master Wong sees potential. Durandal sees malleability.”

“Is that a bit of jealously?”

“For not learning under a man who would see me as another tool? Hardly.” Connor answered succinctly. He was always amazed at the sheer level of dedication Durandal engendered upon so many. And it disturbed him since so few ever realized what type of man they worshipped. There were many times the man sacrificed for what he considered the greater good and so few understood, he never once looked back upon those who fell as long as he succeeded. “Though for a bit of interest, Zaia scored on the combat test a four out of six. Most Padawans cannot score that high until the trials. In fact the whole test is about ten orbs, to ever hit ten would mean your score is of the finest the Jedi Order ever produced.”

Kuja smiled a bit. “Still, continue.”

“So he took him in, and literally no one saw Derith for a year. At all.” Connor continued. “Then one day he announced that he would demonstrate how much improvement he had made. He gathered a bunch of us, even some of the Council, truly he made a rather large affair for his ego.”

Kuja just nodded. “Perhaps, but what was the demonstration of?”

“His…improvements with Derith.”

“That’s it?” Kuja asked as he fell into slow step with Connor.

“That’s it.”

“So what improvements did he make?”

“You do know how much each orb represents?” Connor asked.

Kuja was taken aback, so he collected himself. “Yes, if I remember four is the same as a Padawan, six is a Jedi Knight in terms of speed and talent on an average scale.”

“Good.”

“Why the question?”

“At the end, you’ll understand.” Connor said with a smile. “Still he set up this grand demonstration and he ran Derith through the trials, in fact most of the physical trials were much more then anyone should have to take, but it did not matter, Derith prevailed.”

“So he succeeded beyond what everyone else thought of him a year ago.”

“He did and in fact on the orbs, he scored six. A immense feat for anyone of that level, an immense feat for some knights.”

“And thus proving my point.”

“Perhaps but, think about this.” Connor said as he was turning to leave, his brow furrowed with seriousness. “What type of being does it take to mold an innocent boy into something that could defeat six orbs. Think about it from my point of view.” He turned away and calmly walked toward the library leaving Kuja with his thoughts.

============================================

Halfway across Coruscant, Crimson Raine or Rainey as she was known to a few was sipping on her Corellian Ale. She calmly surveyed the throng that flowed around her and just admired the controlled chaos it brought. She adjusted her red vest ever so slightly. The black leather pants were a bit tight, and the shirt underneath tugged a bit, but she had to admit it was nice to have clean clothes.

Still it was nice to see that regardless of the insanity of the current Bothan crisis that there were some things that never changed. The band was off key but acceptable given she could barely hear it, and the upholstery could use a complete refit. It was still something of a home away from home.

Beside her a droid whirred lightly as his silent eyes kept constant look out for threats. 2K-AD was an unusual droid, some said assassin droid but one helluva a pilot. His completely red exterior fit her motif so well she always kept his outer shell in perfect condition. Personally she didn’t care where her brother got him, she was just glad he didn’t try to kill her or explode.

“Query: What are we here for?” 2K-AD asked.

“We’re here to relax and get some information, so settle down.”

“Query: Settle down? I’m sorry mistress but I cannot settle down. Shut down perhaps, but settle down make no particular sense in my…” 2K-AD said as Crimson placed her hand over his voice modulator. Slowly though her eyes did scan the crowd with more intensity. There was something different, edgy even. And she doubted it was the Bothan crisis, from her few living contacts it sounded as if Black Sun was making a big play. Personally she hoped she could avoid most of them.

Her eyes were focused on the crowd as a shadow fell over the table. “Hello, Raine.” A quiet voice said.

She gave herself a silent three count before turning casually to see to face the voice. “Why hello, Kernel,” She drawled. “Long time no see”

“Right,” Kernel said with a grin. “Now if you would be so kind as to be placing all your limbs on the table.”

Crimson gave him an injured look. “Oh come on,” She said as she reached for the empty mug on the table with both hands. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Maybe, but I just don’t trust your trigger happy pal.” Kernel said as he nodded to 2K-AD. “Besides I heard you’ve gone a bit rogue.”

“I wouldn’t put it so graciously.” She said quietly.

Kernel cocked an eyebrow. “So what do you call dumping fifty tons of Glitterstim?”

“I call it escaping because my employer at the time forgot to mention of a certain blockade.”

Kernel snorted. “Getting slow there darlin.”

“Maybe.”

“Still why call on me?” Kernel snorted. “You got a hefty price on your head.”

“Maybe because I know I can outshoot you or maybe because I have a bit of a favor to ask.” Crimson asked with all the banter leaving her voice.

“Right.” Kernel said as he shifted ever so slightly.

“No, I want to hire you for something specifically?”

“Me?” Kernel leaned back a bit now as he eyed Raine suspiciously. “This isn’t so trap to lodge me with you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that at all.” Crimson assured him. “The spiel I planned was that I needed a slicer to find some fact to prove my innocence to Alyeska. I thought you might be looking for some good quick easy money.”

“Uh-Huh.” Kernel answered, raising an eyebrow. “Just slice into the Black Sun data base and?”

“No catch. It just a simple hunt mission.”

Kernel seemed to mull it over a bit. “You do know what would happen if Black Sun found out?”

“That’s the point, I think I was set up.”

“Why?” Kernel asked.

“Because I don’t believe the story of those escort being there and if I can find someway…” Crimson asked chewing the inside of her cheek.

“It won’t take off the bounty Crimson.” Kernel answered as he got up. “But I look into this for old times sake.”

“Thanks.” She said with her shoulders slumped down.

With that Kernel left, Crimson just nodded to herself of her situation. “Where am I going to find fifty thousand credits?”

“Right here, if you have a ship.” Said a quiet voice over her shoulder.

Crimson and 2K-AD turned. Beside them stood a man a bit taller the Crimson and could easily see eye to eye with 2K. How he blended with that cloak not even Crimson could understand. To her he stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with the hood pulled over.

“And if I do?” Crimson asked suspiciously.

“I require the services of a freighter pilot, to transport me to Isolder74 in the Hapan cluster.” The man said. “And I’m willing to pay fifty thousand. Twenty five now, twenty five when we reach there.”

Crimson’s eyes widened. “What’s the catch?”

The man took his hood off and with that Derith presented a shark’s smile. “No questions asked.”

“You did say fifty thousand?” Crimson asked anxiously.

“Yes.” Derith responded as he took out a chair and sat down.

“Okay, but why Isolder74?” Crimson asked cautiously. “That’s in the middle of this entire dispute with the Bothans and Hapans.”

“I said no questions asked, I dislike repeating myself.” Derith responded coldly.

“Right, fine, none of my business.” Crimson shrugged. “So when?”

“Within an hour.” Derith said as he got up slowly, surveying the area. “You think you can handle that?”

“Within the hour, docking bay 94.” Crimson sarcastically responded as he walked off. “You can remember that, right?”

[Crazedwraith]

1st post. Most execellant. * bad Guitar musics plays*

[The Yosemite Bear]

Nicessss

now where's my preciosss

yess more fissssh

[InnerBrat]

Where's the sexy one?



Great installment, GR.

[Ghost Rider]

Where's the sexy one?



Great installment, GR.

Thanks and soon.