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| - The next day Aewa and I, clad once again in my robe and tunic, made our way to another corner of land on the outer edge of the enclave's courtyard. This area wasn't quite as grassy as the rest, and several outcroppings of stone extruded themselves from the ground; fortunately for my purposes, there were also a lot of loose rocks ranging from pebbles to five-kilo boulders the size of a Wookiee's doubled fists. Going over once again what I had in mind as we set up, I brought my DL-3 out of its holster, which I had attached to my Jedi-issue leather belt. “So remember, I want you to be as random as possible, at least at first,” I said. “Maybe later, if this works out, we can have some fun with this.” Her broad smile all teeth, the youngster nodded, and soon a number of credcoin-sized stones began to rise into the air. Nodding my approval, I began to ready myself both in stance and in the Force, as the stones rose still higher and began to loop and whirl about within a three meter area some twenty-five meters from where we stood. Relaxing into the flow of the Force, I squeezed off a pair of shots; the first missed entirely, but the second intersected the flight path of a smaller rock, vaporizing it on contact. Aewa cheered, but I kept focusing, and within fifteen seconds, I had popped off five more shots, all hitting save for the third. Though it was evident that I wasn't going to become a master markswoman right away, that wasn't the point; I was having enormous fun, but learning at the same time. As the stones continued to whirl through the air, I tapped the trigger several more times, scoring hits in rapid succession. “You're doing great, Laera!” Aewa squealed with glee. “Thanks, but let's keep at it,” I replied. “Take them out to about, oh, fifty meters.” Doing as she was told, the young apprentice sent the remaining stones out to twice their former distance, bringing more into the air to replace those that had been shot down. Checking my blaster's power level, I fired two more test-shots, which impacted two of the larger stones, sending them flying off into the distance. For the next hour, I continued to plunk rocks from the air as Aewa whirled them about, both of us were having a great time. It was a good thing I had secured a few extra power cells from the enclave's armory, because by the time we broke for lunch, I'd depleted two of them. “Let's grab a bite to eat,” I said as the sun reached its zenith. After eating our lunch on a bench near the entrance to the enclave's main level, we went back out to the same spot. “Remember what I'd said about having fun with this?” I asked as we reached the improvised shooting gallery. “Yep!” Aewa replied, nodding vigorously. “Well, here's what I want you to do,” I said, and began to explain. By the time I finished, her grin was as wide as I'd ever seen a humanoid wear. “You ready?” “Sure am, Gunny!” she replied happily. In a fit of nostalgia, I had talked with her during lunch about the time I'd spent training young Marines on Carida. I decided that the nickname made me feel more at home, so I'd allowed her to use it. “Well, let's get to it,” I said, and soon, another cluster of stones had risen into the air. I had barely set myself in stance and sense when the first rock zoomed in at me, nearly clipping my forehead as it did so. Calling upon the Force, I let it flow through me as the young girl's assault ramped up to full intensity. Stones began screaming at me from several directions, and I whirled about as I sensed the trajectories of each incoming missile, taking shots only when the Force told me that I'd score a hit that wouldn't endanger my helper. The fun continued for ten solid minutes before we were interrupted by a man clearing his throat loudly. As I set my weapon on safe, holstering it before turning to face the newcomer, Aewa's concentration slipped, and the stones cascaded to the ground in a cacophony of noise. “Just what do you think you are doing?” Master Vrook asked angrily, staring vibroblades at me. “Apprentice Aewa, return to your dormitory.” — — — “You may have been an officer in the Republic Marines, Jedi Reyolé,” Vrook said once the young Togruta had departed, his voice grave. “But you are only an apprentice here, and that means you do not meddle with the training of the younger students!” “Master Vrook,” I began, quite calmly, “I was not attempting to train her. I was simply enlisting her aid in training myself. I seem to recall that you were not so critical when I sought assistance from Belaya and Juhani.” To his credit, and my relief, Vrook's expression softened somewhat. I knew that what I had done was not, strictly speaking, proper, but I had felt sure that it wouldn't cause too much of a ruckus. “You still should have asked me first,” he said. “She is young, and has much to learn about the Force. Benevolent as your intentions might have been, you may have inadvertently damaged her own progress.” “With all due respect, I think that is for her own Master to decide,” I replied, standing my ground. My cheek was instantly rewarded with an arched eyebrow that, on previous occasions, had not boded well for that day's future events. Instead, he simply grunted his irritation, then beckoned for me to follow him back to the enclave proper. Once we had entered, he brought me to one of the training rooms on the main level; with its centrally-marked padded floor, clothes tree, weapon rack, and gear lockers, I recognized that this was a small sparring arena. Master Vrook walked to one of the lockers, opened it, and took out a small spherical object that I recognized as a training remote. I knew that such devices were utilized by various military and police forces across the galaxy for training purposes, however, the Marine Corps had been one of the major exceptions. We preferred to use a system of spotting lasers tied into a series of detectors worn as a sort of harness when undergoing close-quarters combat training (CQC for short), as this system better mimicked the realities of combat. While remotes could be programmed to simulate a reaction to aggressive behavior in its targets, it could not deal with a counterattack in the same way as a sentient being; without such natural responses, we could not as effectively learn what it was like to face down an armed foe. When he also retrieved a twenty-five centimeter metal tube that I instantly recognized as being the hilt of a lightsaber, my heart skipped a beat. “Your unorthodox training method seems to have proved its point, if there ever was one,” Master Vrook said, his manner not quite sarcastic. “You know what these objects are, I trust?” Nodding, I accepted the lightsaber he held out for me. “Is...is this one real?” “Of course not,” the elder Jedi said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Do you honestly think I would trust you with a real lightsaber, as reckless as you are? No, this is a training weapon; it will sting, but it will not burn or cut.” “I suppose that's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” I said with a shrug. Master Vrook did not reply, save for an exasperated grunt, and I pushed the lightsaber's activation stud. With an unmistakable snap-hiss, a meter-long shaft of purest yellow light shot out of the tube's business end, reaching up at an angle away from me. I had seen these weapons in action, but no Jedi had ever let me hold one—of course, I had never asked—so I was taken aback by the near total lack of mass in the blade. Treating the hilt like that on an incredibly thin, impossibly sharp vibroblade, I took a few experimental swipes, culminating in an infinity loop that I repeated in the opposite direction. Even I could recognize that my technique was nonexistent; it was rather like waving a glowrod, its beam wobbling about no matter how smoothly one moved it. “Mastery of the lightsaber is at the core of the Jedi tradition,” Master Vrook began after a few minutes of watching my experimentations. “Every Jedi Knight knows at least one form of combat beyond the most basic, Shii-Cho, and many know multiple techniques. Before you may truly call yourself one of us, you must prove that you have the skill to wield our most prominent symbol.” The Jedi Master then activated the remote, which zoomed out of his hand and began to bob and weave about near the room's ceiling. “With the Force, you can feel the blade of the lightsaber as you would that of any other melee weapon. Simply extend your awareness into the hilt, and follow the currents of energy to the blade's tip and back again.” Closing my eyes, I did as instructed, and as it had occurred with my DL-3, I soon felt the extent of the weapon from blade tip to pommel cap. Now I knew what I held in my hands; without prompting, I launched into a furious velocity that I had first learned more than twenty years ago in boot camp. Breathing a sigh, I opened my eyes once again, then executed the same velocity, but in reverse. Master Vrook nodded his approval. “I see that your Marine training has paid off once again,” he said grudgingly. “Still, your technique is sloppy, your form in its infancy, but you will learn.” “Thank you, Master,” I said, holding the lightsaber up in salute, then deactivating it. “Don't thank me yet,” he replied, calling the remote back to him. “This training lightsaber is now yours for the time being; be sure to wear it at all times. In your room, you will find a new set of datapads. These contain instructions and diagrams illustrating the basics of lightsaber combat, including the velocities and katas for Shii-Cho, the most elementary form. Study them well, my Padawan.” And with that, Master Vrook put the remote away and left the room. — — — I returned to my quarters to find that the common area was empty save for Aewa, who sat cross-legged on a chair close to my door. She looked up at me, half abashed, half curious, but my reassuring nod put her at her ease. “Thanks for the help, kid,” I said with a smile, tucking back my cloak just enough so that she could glimpse the pommel of the training saber clipped to my belt. She grinned, dismounted the chair, and left the dormitory at a trot. As I opened the door, I soon noticed the stack of three datapads that had been left on my desk, as well as the fact that the ones I'd kept on the shelf had been replaced as well. After checking to make sure the first pile contained what my Master had said it would, I thumbed through the second set. These turned out to contain further readings on the philosophies of the Order, including one that was dedicated to the five-line Jedi Code and its many applications and subtexts, and three others that covered the three paths of the Jedi. Deciding that it was better to delve into the lightsaber-oriented stuff while the experience was still fresh in my head, I began reading the first datapad, which contained information about the basics of utilizing the lightsaber. It was fascinating reading, but also a bit difficult to take in, at least at first. Learning the many marks of contact, the ways in which a Jedi could inflict harm upon another being with their lightsaber, was challenging, as there were so many variations. Annotations had been appended to each description and diagram, indicating the Jedi philosophy regarding their use; some were considered ideal, if difficult to pull off, while others were thought to be too brutal, and thus avoided if at all possible. Admittedly, I felt confused as to how a stab directly to a foe's heart was felt to be more ideal than depriving one's opponent of their hands, particularly with the availability of excellent prosthetic limbs. At least with the latter method, the other person would still be alive and able to reconsider her actions. But that wasn't for me to judge, at least not at this point in my training. Later, perhaps, once I'd learned how to use the damn thing without endangering myself, I could devote more thought toward what sort of style suited me best. With that in mind, I continued on, finally finishing that first datapad as the rest of the apprentices in the cluster were filing in from their own training. Poking my head out of my door, I noticed that the youngest apprentice was holding court, gabbling happily on about how she'd helped “Gunny Reyolé” shoot rocks out of the air. I couldn't help but chuckle; though the girl was obviously happy to have played her part despite the rather abrupt end to the activities, I noticed that she did not exaggerate or attempt to make her role seem more important. True Jedi humility, I mused to myself with a sigh. Something we Marines could probably learn from... I spent the next two days reading over the learning materials that Master Vrook had given me, wanting to make absolutely sure that I'd done my homework before engaging even a training version of such a deadly-effective weapon. This was partly due to force of habit, as during Marine training I'd often spent at least a day or two reading through the background material before taking an unfamiliar weapon to the firing range. But the additional responsibilities that went with the proper handling of a lightsaber were so much more ingrained into the psyche of the Jedi Order, and so I felt that my treatment of this weapon had to be extra-respectful. On the third day, I tucked the three datapads into my robes, sought out an isolated spot not far from the courtyard's edge, and began to put these teachings into practice. It was difficult at first, remembering how each basic maneuver was supposed to be executed before doing it myself, but through perseverance, I started to gradually refine my technique. Shii-Cho itself was much less difficult, as this simplest form still resonated with the elements of ancient swordplay upon which it was centered. Building upon my training with vibroblades, I managed to make my way through the first few velocities and katas without falling flat on my face. This was helped by use of the technique Master Vrook had taught me for “feeling” the blade of the lightsaber and assigning “weight” to it through the Force. As I began to put myself through the intermediate aspects of this first form, I felt the approach of two familiar auras; the sun-yellow of Belaya and the pastel blue of Juhani. Not wanting to become distracted, I continued the kata I had begun, then went through its accompanying velocity; by the time I'd finished, the two friends had stopped a few meters shy of where I was practicing. “First day on the job, Laera?” Belaya asked, smiling and gesturing toward the weapon in my hands. “You could say that,” I replied, lowering the blade and pressing the activation stud to retract it. “Your technique is good for so little practice,” Juhani remarked in her accented Basic. “You have prior training in melee weapons and combat, yes?” I nodded in reply. “You two out here to practice as well?” The two younger women exchanged an odd sort of look that I found confusing, but as they nodded, I dismissed whatever significance it might have held. What two friends do in their own time was none of my concern, Jedi or no. By way of actual response, both of them unhooked their own lightsabers, showing them to me pommel-out so that I could see that they were armed not with training weapons, but real ones, ones that they had wrought themselves. “Very nice craftsmanship,” I said, and meant it. By mutual consent, the three of us stepped into line, each standing approximately three meters apart from the others to leave ample room to maneuver. I stood at the center, so that I could see and sense from both sides what the other two were doing. As one, we activated our blades, holding them straight up and outward at a forty-five degree angle; Juhani's was blue, Belaya's, like mine, was yellow. After nodding our readiness to one another, the two Jedi led off, going through the katas of Shii-Cho as I followed suit. With their performance as a benchmark, I was able to gauge where I stood in terms of potential talent, which wasn't bad as these things went. They obviously knew the form like the backs of their hands, and it was a wonder that I didn't lag so far behind that I disrupted their routine. After a good half hour of exercises, they had taken me through the intermediate katas and on into the advanced ones. Despite my lack of practice, I managed to stick with them for most of the way, dropping out of formation only at the last one, which was a three-sixty spin that ended with the blade pointing out from centerline and parallel to the ground. “I'm sorry,” I said by way of apology. “I think I almost fell over on that one.” “There's no need to apologize,” Belaya assured me, and I could feel her sincerity. “I should apologize for using a live saber instead of a practice one.” “That's alright,” I said. “Hell, I've already been filleted once, and it wasn't so bad.” That got a laugh out of Juhani, who nodded toward her friend. “If you would like, we could acquire training lightsabers,” she suggested. “These velocities are much easier to learn when one has a partner.” “Besides, you seem to have a good grasp on the basics,” Belaya put in with a grin. “I think we can trust you not to cut out a wall...” — — — Fifteen minutes later, and in the same room where I had first received my training lightsaber, I was engaged in a furious velocity with Belaya as Juhani looked on. These partnered versions consisted of two participants running the same routine as they faced one another, with one going through it in reverse. The object was to increase the speed of the velocity with each repetition, stopping only when blade and body made contact, or when one of the participants uttered a special codeword. It was the former condition that necessitated the use of the stinging variety of lightsaber, but since there was no real way to tell the difference between a blade that could cut and one that could not, this mattered little in actual practice. The match finally ended when Belaya's blade tapped me on my right upper arm, which immediately jerked in pain and nearly caused me to lose my grip on my own weapon. As she stepped back, we exchanged a bow, and I nursed my (slightly) wounded arm as Juhani and I exchanged places. The two friends then began their own velocity, which was more complex, and I looked on in awe as I watched them abandon their conscious selves and commit to the routine with all that they were. Their blades flashed and twirled like controlled lightning, and within minutes they had gone beyond my eyes' ability to follow. By tapping into the currents of the Force, however, I began to sense how they did it, and took in what data I could. Finally, after their velocity had gone on for nearly twice the length of the one I had conducted with Belaya, each of them cried “Solah!” at exactly the same moment. With astonishing control, the two Jedi halted their dance of blades, bowed, and separated. “That was incredible,” I said, my voice low with awe. “I think that you could do just as well, if not better,” Belaya said, standing beside her friend. “I can't recall seeing someone who could keep up with the kind of velocity we did on their first day of practical lightsaber training.” “Beginner's fortune, I can assure you,” I replied, shrugging off the compliment as I parked myself on a nearby bench. “Marine vibroblade training can't hold a candle to what I've seen Jedi do, in practice and in combat.” “You've witnessed Jedi engaged in combat?” Juhani asked, her tone slightly disbelieving. “During the war, yes, more times than I care to remember,” I said, my voice growing somber. “It was from another life, really...” “She fought alongside the Revanchists,” Belaya explained in an undertone that nevertheless carried to my ears. “Begging your pardon, Belaya,” I said, a hint of resentment creeping into my voice, “but you've got that a little backward. I was fighting the Mandalorians long before Revan and his followers came on the scene.” “Please forgive me,” she apologized. “That was perhaps in poor taste.” I waved the apology away. “Forget it, it's my own fault for being so damn touchy about it. Ask me again some other time, maybe I can explain it better later.” “As you wish, Laera,” Belaya offered. “We could leave you alone if you'd like.” “No, that's alright,” I said. “I need to learn this stuff, and like Juhani said, it's easier when you've got a partner.” I spent the rest of the day exchanging routines with the other two Jedi, becoming more and more comfortable with the attacks, parries, and maneuvers of Shii-Cho as time went by. Since Belaya and Juhani were familiar enough with each other's styles that they needed little further practice, they took it in turns to face off against me. I ended up taking several more stinging hits to various parts of my anatomy before learning to recognize when things were going badly and exclaiming “Solah!” to end the velocity before contact was made. None of these duets ended in me landing blows or forcing either of the two to submit, but since that wasn't the objective, it didn't bother me in the slightest. Finally, exhausted and nearly panting for breath, I called an end to the exercises, and the two Jedi departed, having barely broken a sweat. — — — Once again, I slept like a rock, too exhausted to do little more than remove my robes before flopping down onto the bed and drifting instantly off to blissful unconsciousness. And, once again, I awoke to a stomach that begged loudly to be filled with food. After securing a heaping helping of morning chow, I returned to my room, the previous day's activities sloshing around my head as I attempted to read about the Jedi Code. I eventually gave it up as a bad job, picked up my training lightsaber and, after calling up the notes pertaining to Shii-Cho style blaster deflection, took it and the datapad to the training room. I pulled one of the remotes from its locker, set it for a simple pattern, and let it fly about the room. As it did so, I activated my weapon and relaxed myself into the Force, feeling for the movements of the small automaton. I was just beginning to sense the oscillations of energy within the device when its capacitor charged up to fire a stinger bolt in my direction. Reacting on instinct, I turned to face the attack, bringing my lightsaber in line to block the small plasma packet. The pinprick of energy sparked as it glanced off the blade, and I felt it vibrate ever so slightly with the impact. The Force help me if I ever have to block a laser cannon with this thing, I thought to myself as I brought my blade around in an arc to pick off a second bolt. The remote took its time in acquiring me as a target, so that I got used to the idea of attempting to predict its movements. However, after five minutes of its leisurely pace, I began to grow bored; calling it back to my hand with the Force, I bumped up the difficulty a couple of notches. Upon its release, the small metal ball began to dart about with more alacrity, increasing the complexity of its movements as well as the frequency of its shots. As a result, I began to miss shots that I would have picked up on the first setting, but at least none of them got through to tag me. After several rounds with the higher setting, my abilities began to catch up, and I was soon stippling the walls with deflected low-energy packets. Satisfied that I was doing well enough with my eyes open, I closed them, and the exercise took on a new dimension. The remote itself did not possess an aura, which I decided was a good thing, as it would have negated its value as a training aid. Part of me wished I'd had a squad of Marines with spotting lasers firing at me; that would have been a real, not to mention extremely delightful, challenge to undertake. Alas, such fun and frivolity was not to be had, so I contented myself with following the motions of the remote and picking off stinger darts, increasing the difficulty yet again after an hour's worth of practice. By lunchtime, I had worked up to the remote's highest difficulty setting, though in the process I'd gotten stung at least twice. After the noon meal, I decided to take the remote outside, to the grove near the ancient ruins that some Jedi liked to use for deep meditation, so that I could practice deflecting bolts from ranges higher than the confines of the training room allowed. This time, much to my chagrin, the remote started to use the terrain to its advantage, hiding behind small boulders, trees, and other obstacles before it would close in to launch a multi-directional flurry of stingers. The first time this happened, I missed every dart, and each one impacted one after the other up and down my left leg, toppling me to the ground. Following its programming, the blasted thing came right at me, aiming for my head; it was all I could do to get out of the way, let alone bring my blade into line to intercept the shots. I finally managed to summon up the focus to catch the thing in a Force-hold before it could attack again, turning it off as I struggled to regain my composure. As if things couldn't get any worse, Master Vrook chose that moment to show up. “I had intended for you to practice with the remote before moving on to training with the other apprentices,” he said wryly as I moaned inwardly. “As a result, you've fallen into bad habits, ones that you'll have to train extra hard to break out of.” And with that, the Jedi Master released another remote into the air even as he reactivated the first one. I had no time to complain, vocally or subconsciously; I closed my eyes and slipped once more into the Force, asking, begging, cajoling it to come to my aid in my time of need. As the two remotes, acting in concert, sprayed darts in my direction, I threw myself at the grass, tucking into a roll that brought me up to my feet just as the damned machines swooped over me. Whipping about, I spun my blade in a tight arc that sent several darts spitting off into the air while several more bracketed my position. The remotes then extended, zooming out in different directions. “You must extend your awareness outward,” Master Vrook instructed. “Anticipation, not reaction, should be your mantra. Only by feeling where the remotes are going to be can you know where and when the darts will come.” Attempting to do as my Master suggested, I let my awareness flow outward, encompassing as broad an area as I could. At the very edge of this cloud, I could feel them, they were coming at me from opposite sides. Feeling that they would zoom straight at me, I jumped to the side, turning about in midair as the remotes attempted to correct their orientation. This resulted in both of them facing me, their darts lancing out at me along similar trajectories. Those that I couldn't block outright I was able to dodge, and I even managed to send one of them zipping back at my antagonists, which passed within a few centimeters of the right-handball. There was no respite to be gained, however; both remotes zoomed in at me again, weaving into one another, and I was forced to cartwheel out of their way. Once again, the remotes changed tactics. While one of them hung back at about twenty-five meters, launching the occasional barrage of shots as it hovered out of range, the other would swoop in close to peel off a volley of darts from a different angle, attempting to catch me in a crossfire. I countered this tactic by attempting to keep an obstacle between the far remote and myself while I dealt with the darts from the second. This proved to be mostly successful in that only occasionally did I have to divide my attention between the two, and only once more did they manage to tag me with their stingers. — — — For the next solid week, Master Vrook continued to drill me with the remotes, adding a new one to the mix every subsequent day, so that by the end, I was facing eight of the infernal contraptions at once, all set at maximum difficulty, and ranging out to one hundred plus meters. It was one of the most hellish weeks I had ever endured in my entire life, above and beyond Hell Week at boot camp by an order of magnitude. It got so bad that, on the sixth day, I was rendered nearly catatonic by flashbacks of my last battle. One of the remotes, screaming in at me with all the subtlety of a charging bantha, suddenly took on the appearance of a grenade, and I began to hyperventilate as I clutched at the spot in my chest where a real explosive, hurled by a dying Mandalorian, had torn through my flesh. Dropping my lightsaber as I fell to my knees, the other remotes closed in and I was bombarded by stinger darts. But this was no time to let up; after another night's stay in the infirmary, it was right back to it, and more intense than ever. Finally, on the eighth day, after batting aside fusillades of stinger darts and nearly destroying one of the remotes in the process, Master Vrook decided that I'd had enough. That brutal week of exercises proved that I still needed time for my mind to heal in the wake of my fatal ordeal. I spent the whole next day in deep meditation within the grove, trying to center myself once again in the Force, craving calm, clarity, and peace of mind. It was difficult in coming, and even as I felt the embrace of the universe upon me, I knew that full psychological well-being would still be a long time in coming. On the upside, however, the unforgiving nature of these exercises had forced me to incorporate all that I had learned thus far during my training, and despite the reopening of not-so-old mental wounds, I came out of it feeling as though I had finally mounted and vaulted a great hurdle. In order to give me a little break from the physical and psychic exertions of the previous weeks, Master Vrook had given me time off to study the Jedi Code and the three paths of service within the Order, Sentinel, Consular, and Guardian, so that I would be able to pick a path to follow when the time came. I spent the next week in reading, contemplation, and meditation, resting tired muscles, learning more about Jedi traditions, and allowing myself to explore the Force both within my being and the environment around me. I realized almost immediately that I identified very well with the traditions of the Jedi Guardians, though the Sentinel path offered some intriguing opportunities. In the end, I chose to dabble in each, incorporating the subtlety of the latter with the bold, decisive combat styles of the former. The perfect combination for a Marine, I thought. A technique which I had found to be greatly appealing involved the ability to sense where a target was least likely to focus their perceptions, and using that to get close enough to spring with full force upon them when they were most vulnerable. On the defense, this same technique could be used to hide myself from an advancing attacker, waiting for them to pass by and exposing their flank. When I told Master Vrook of this discovery, however, he responded with a lecture. “You should know by now that Jedi do not attack. We use the Force for knowledge and defense, nothing more.” “Yes Master, I realize that,” I countered. “But when an enemy has already announced its intentions, whether they be through words or action, then the time for worrying about such things has passed.” “Even in the face of open hostility, not everything is as it appears," Master Vrook replied, his tone somber, his countenance pensive. "You are not the only one who knew a Jedi that fought with the Revanchists. My previous Padawan also joined the war against the Mandalorians, despite all I could do to persuade him to see the wisdom of restraint. He fought them on battlefield after battlefield, and even before his death at Malachor, I could feel glimpses of his gradual descent into darkness.” At that point, I could feel the sudden emotional vulnerability of the Jedi Master who sat before me. Here was a man who had spent so much time watching out for the well-being of others that, perhaps, he was afraid of opening himself up. He walled himself off to protect himself from the possibility of his pupils, his friends, and his allies falling from the light, and becoming affected by the resulting tumult of emotions. I had seen this happen in other officers, who cared so deeply about the troops under their command that, after a battle, they would lock themselves away to avoid the pain of comrades lost. Part of me suspected that this emotional protection was what made Master Vrook appear to be so insufferably irritable, and it was a surprise to see him like this. Inexplicably, these thoughts brought forth the mental image of General Sunrider, who even now made her way through the stars, utterly alone and friendless. It made my heart ache to think about her like that, but instead of closing myself off from the feeling, I did my best to embrace it, make it a part of me, and move on. This was how I continued to cope with my own death, after all, for better or worse. “Sometimes, no matter how right an action may seem at first, you have to step back and look at the bigger picture,” Master Vrook continued. “Perhaps if they had seen the wisdom of the Council, Revan, Malak, and the soldiers and Jedi who went with them would not have become lost to the unknown.” “Master, with all due respect, I disagree,” I said, trying my utmost to maintain an even demeanor. “The Mandalorians were pushing into the Core Worlds. If Revan had waited for the rest of the Jedi, our enemies would have been on Coruscant's doorstep, and by then it might have been too late. If the whole of the Order had come together and led a united front against the invaders, how many worlds would have been spared the destruction they wrought?” “You do not understand,” the Jedi Master replied, his tone becoming heated. “Something was lurking out there, beyond the Outer Rim. We could feel it, a darkness that had propelled the Mandalorians to war. If the entire Jedi Order had gone out to meet it, it might have devoured us all!” Master Vrook's reply hit me in an unexpected place. Memories of what Commander Onasi had said about the Jedi “changing,” and how the effect had spilled over to the soldiers, pilots and crewers under Revan's command, swam to the forefront of my mind. I recalled that the younger officer had seemed agitated at our first meeting, as though he had just had an unpleasant chat with someone, and I wondered if that had had anything to do with what would later become of the Fleet. I found myself wondering what would have happened to me if I had not died and spent so many months being reconstructed. Would I have ended up like them, twisted and corrupted by whatever it was that had infected all the others? “This...darkness of which you speak...” I began, unsure of what I was asking, or if I really wanted to hear the answer. “How can I tell the dark from the light?” Master Vrook looked at me, and I could feel his mental gaze on my inner being. “When you are calm, at peace, centered within the Force, you will know,” he began. “Your life has been spent in service to civilization, to the Republic, and if you aspire to nothing else, then, I feel, you will find yourself well-insulated against the dark side.” I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating the conversation between myself and Master Vrook. His vulnerability, temporary as it might have been, had startled me, and I found myself wondering if I was really as safe from the dark side as he claimed I was. He had been correct, after a fashion, when he had said that I aspired to nothing more than service to the Republic. It hadn't been easy to reconcile the Marines' version of service with that of the Jedi, and I still had some reservations as to whether I should stick with the Order upon the completion of my training, or return to the military. Part of me knew that, whatever path I chose, I'd be well-placed to do my utmost to fight for those who could not fight for themselves, and after being a soldier for so long, that was all I ever really wanted, the only life I knew. I had never liked war; that fact, at least, would never change. Still, if war was inevitable, it was better to be prepared. And if what Master Vrook had said about that ethereal darkness was true, then the peace that lingered in the wake of the Mandalorians' defeat might be short-lived indeed.
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)