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| - I watched with a heavy heart as the packet transport lifted off, waving one last goodbye to its solitary occupant, the pilot who had ferried me here in the first place. The small, streamlined vessel's repulsorlifts whined as it continued to gain height; eventually, its ion engines kicked in, propelling it out of sight. With a sigh, I walked out of the landing facility within Garang Spaceport, running a hand through my short, auburn hair before donning my cap and continuing through the terminal. Doing my best to maintain an air of professional detachment, I climbed into the back of the landspeeder that was waiting for me. Dantooine wasn't really a bad place; it was actually rather similar to my own homeworld of Agamar. Both planets had an abundance of arable land, but while the former was almost exclusively grassland and savannas, the latter possessed large forests of evenly-spaced binka trees. Both had been settled relatively recently; while Dantooine had been settled for long enough to have attracted the establishment of a Jedi training enclave, Agamar had only been colonized a few years prior to Exar Kun's insurrection. My folks had been among the first wave of new arrivals; my father, Daddi (I'm not kidding, that's his name) had been a manager in the multi-sector agricultural conglomerate which had first scouted the world, while my mother, Ceylon, had worked as his executive assistant before the two had fallen in love and gotten married. In addition, both planets had small populations spread out over large areas, which greatly appealed to me after having been cooped up for so long aboard warships, constantly bumping elbows with soldiers, crewers, pilots and droids. I laughed to myself at the irony of it all. Here I was, a dead Marine only recently reborn, stranded on a backwater rock that was so close in appearance to the world of my birth that it almost ached. Not exactly how I had pictured spending my time after the war. Still, it was better than the alternative—even if I didn't quite understand what that alternative would have entailed. Flashes of what I had experienced still cropped up now and again; every so often a stray memory would cause me to involuntarily flex a muscle or two to make sure they were still working. This was not helped by the friendly-looking sights of Dantooine's countryside as they flickered by the speeder's transparisteel windows. As the vehicle continued its trek from the spaceport to the Jedi enclave, I took the time to consider the current situation. Revan's fleet had gone missing without a trace, leaving behind no indications of where they had gone, and Commander Onasi—who was probably the closest thing to a friend I had at this point—had been recalled to Coruscant “with all possible haste” to try and explain what might have gone wrong. Oh yes, and it turns out that I'm Force-sensitive. The emotional numbness that had first greeted the previous evening's pronouncement by Jedi Master Vrook Lamar now gone, I started laughing so hard that my stomach soon began to cramp up. Now, I'm nobody's fool, despite being a first-gen colony kid from some Outer Rim dirtball; Marine service tends to be pretty brutal in its assessment of one's capabilities and talents. I know what the Force is, and have witnessed its power firsthand on many occasions while fighting against the Mandalorians. But I had never really trusted those who wielded it; those who called themselves peacekeepers and defenders of justice. Their idea of justice, as Dad had explained it once, had been to get rid of those who didn't agree with their own doctrine in a way that made it look as though they were just "keeping the peace." I could understand his point of view; when I was two, we had lost nearly everything when a Krath supply raid had targeted my hometown, nearly flattening it in the process. The Jedi-led relief force, which had arrived too late to stop them, had been unwilling to help repair the damage, and so my family and I had been forced to rebuild our lives almost from scratch. I supposed that it could have been worse—indeed, life seems to be full of such suppositions—because most of the town's residents had been spared in the attack, including my family. It was because of the raid that I had enlisted in the Republic military at the earliest permissible age—sixteen, with joint parental consent. It was not out of patriotism or any thirst for revenge that I had joined up; the attack had occurred much too early in my life to have left any such impression. Rather, it was because the armed forces of the Republic pay their soldiers well; we're trained to professional standards, and expected to maintain that standard for the duration of our service. The Marines in particular receive something on the order of fifteen percent more in base pay alone, plus there are ample opportunities to earn hazardous-duty and even combat-related bonuses. Though the training had been arduous, and on more than one occasion I had found myself wondering what the kriff I was even trying to prove, I had come to view the experience as a life-changing event, feeling proud to have earned a place in one of the galaxy's most elite fighting forces. Despite the fact that my pay went almost exclusively to my parents back on Agamar, the Republic Marines eventually became my true family, their motto of Semper Fidelis, which roughly translates to “always loyal” in Old Alsakan, became my personal creed. And I regretted none of it. Not even the dying part. The landspeeder slowed to a halt in front of the enclave's southern entrance, bringing me out of my introspection. I suspected that Master Vrook offering to put me up at the Jedi-run facility until the Republic could ascertain my status was more than just him being generous, particularly in light of his assessment of my hitherto unknown abilities. However, the fact remained that I didn't really have anywhere else to go. Garang had a few low-rent hostels that seemed nice enough, but without any ready credits, it was a no-go. Because of some bureaucratic SNAKU—situation normal, all karked up—regarding my final orders, I couldn't go back Coreward with Commander Onasi either. Still, the enclave itself looked homey enough. The architecture of the place was simple, but elegant: large courtyards, lined with benches, that surrounded a complex of interconnected buildings that housed everything from dormitories and training rooms to a pair of fully-functional landing pads for small shuttles or low-stock freighters. Taking all this in as I extricated myself and my duffel bag from the landspeeder, I dimly wondered what fate awaited me inside. Well, no sense in dilly-dallying, Laera, I thought to myself, taking a deep breath. Might as well go on in and see what the Jedi want. — — — “Captain Reyolé, welcome,” a jug-eared apprentice said cheerily as I entered the enclave. The tow-headed youth, who looked as though he was barely old enough to access the HoloNet without the safeties, smiled eagerly as he took in my appearance. Unconsciously blushing, I remembered that I hadn't been able to get any laundry done after the long hyperspace voyage to Dantooine, but that usually wasn't a problem for the Marine-issue green-gray-brown mottled battle-dress uniform I wore. Though they were designed to appear relatively neat and clean despite extensive wear in the field, I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious walking into such an auspicious and venerable place in a frumpy set of BDUs. The gestures of the youngster, who was beckoning for my duffel, brought me out of my reverie. “I'll take that to your room for you, ma'am,” he piped up as I met his earnest gaze. “The Council was hoping to meet with you before you settled in.” “Yeah, whatever you say, kid,” I replied woodenly, handing over the bag—which contained everything that I owned in the universe—without really paying attention. “Where is this Council you mentioned?” “Over that way,” the apprentice pointed. “Take the next right and then left, it's the big circular room with the open roof.” “Thank you,” I replied. The youth sketched a bow before scampering off with my duffel, which looked almost as big as he was. Heartened by the absurdness of such a small boy carrying such an overlarge load, I strode deeper into the enclave, finding the indicated chamber without much trouble. It was as he had described; large and round, it was bathed in natural sunlight from the center of the ceiling, which was open to the elements. The floor, lined at points along the walls with plant boxes, was sunken in the middle, with a row of chairs arranged along the edge on the far side. Four of them were presently occupied, with two humans, a Lethan Twi'lek, and a member of a diminutive species that I'd never seen before sitting in close proximity. This, I guessed, had to be the Council of Jedi that the youngster had referred to. “Greetings, Captain Reyolé,” Master Vrook said, standing as I entered the sunken portion of the chamber. He was joined by the other human, a dark-skinned man who looked to be older than my father, and the Twi'lek, whose red countenance reminded me of a rather nasty sunburn I'd once gotten while on leave on Dac. The shrimp in their midst, however, remained seated. “It was good of you to accept our offer.” “Thank you for extending it, Master Jedi,” I replied, somewhat stiffly as I stood at attention. “Before we see to your comfort, however, the Council wishes to discuss something with you,” the elder Jedi continued. “To my left is Master Zhar,” he said, pointing to the Twi'lek. “To my right are Masters Vandar and Dorak,” he indicated, gesturing toward the small Jedi and the other human in turn. “You remember, of course, what we discussed the previous evening?” “Yes, I do,” I said with a nod. Good guess, Laera! The other human, Dorak, spoke up then, his tone scholarly but not aloof. “We are aware of the circumstances surrounding your life and, to a certain extent, your death and subsequent resurrection. What intrigues us most is your connection to the Force, and how it may have been affected by your ordeal.” “The Force is life, as well as death,” Master Vandar said, his voice high, nasally and raspy. “The two are as interconnected as anything else in the universe. You are strong in the Force, but it seems that this strength has only recently made itself manifest.” “With the Force, many things are possible,” Master Zhar chimed in, his voice low but fatherly, after a fashion. “You are a disciplined warrior, dedicated to the Republic. We are considering you for Jedi training.” My attention not fully allocated toward the four-part harmony of Force-inspired philosophical yammering, the Twi'lek's last words caught me blindsided. Realizing that my jaw had dropped several centimeters, I hastily closed it and regarded the Council with something that was intended to be a scowl, but from the furtive nods that all four of them were shooting me, it was clear they could see right through the facade. “You do not trust us, that much is clear,” Master Vrook said frankly. “But you trusted those Jedi who fought beside you against the Mandalorians, despite the fact that they did so against the wishes of the Order. Be mindful of—” “Excuse me, Master Jedi,” I interrupted, my voice spiked with sudden anger, “but with all due respect, you are wrong. I fought alongside the Revanchists, but I never fully trusted any of them, except for one. I'm a Marine, sir, trained to fight the enemies of the Republic, of civilization itself, no matter who leads me into battle!” A thunderous silence descended upon the chamber as the Masters exchanged glances. My heart thudded in my ears as I struggled to regain my composure, shocked at my own words and the heat with which they had been shot out. I didn't understand why I was acting this way. Certainly, these particular Jedi Masters had done nothing that warranted my ire, and though my distrust of the Order ran deep, I had usually treated its members with some modicum of respect. Realizing that my hands had balled into fists, I determinedly unclenched them, instead clasping them behind my back as I forced myself to calm down and see the situation rationally. It had to have been Vrook's assumption, I realized. He'd touched a nerve by stating that I had in fact trusted Revan and his followers, that I'd embraced their help with open arms, when he couldn't have been more wrong. While it was true that I had fought under the command, and even alongside, those Jedi who had deigned to take the war seriously, that had not meant that they had automatically earned any sort of respect, much less trust. Part of me, it seemed, still held a small dose of contempt for those Jedi, like the Council before me, who had stayed out of the fighting. “Perhaps we have put too much pressure upon you, Captain,” Master Vandar said at last as my thoughts drew to a close. “Please accept our apologies.” “This is a lot to take in at once,” Master Dorak suggested. “Would you care to get some rest? An apprentice will show you to the quarters we have prepared for you.” I acquiesced to the Council's suggestion, offering them an apologetic sort of nod. — — — The same youth who had greeted me upon my arrival showed me to the single-occupancy that had been arranged in the enclave's sublevel. As I followed him, I watched as other Jedi, who all wore some variation on the homespun tunic and robes I'd always associated with their kind, went about their business. Some of the older ones nodded at me as we passed, while the rest, for the most part, ignored me. As my guide led me into the lower floor, a mixed-species gaggle of kids even younger than he was were playing a game of some sort, which to me looked like a variation of knee-sack but without the use of knees. Telekinetic fun and games, I thought ruefully to myself. Is that what they're going to try and teach me? The quarters I had been given lay at the far end of one of the long corridors. My room, along with five others, were arranged in a rough hemisphere around a small common area. Though I would have preferred the one closest to the door to this cluster, I ended up with the one whose entrance directly opened onto the egress from the corridor to the center space. This meant that, unless I kept my own door sealed, I would have virtually no privacy. And in a place like this, sealing myself off from the others will look like I've got something to hide, I thought. Perhaps the only saving grace was that the room itself, as well as its otherwise utilitarian-style furniture, was somewhat larger than what I was used to; aboard a warship, even a company or battalion commander couldn't expect to get much space aside from a bunk and a small desk terminal. As I entered my quarters, the tow-headed apprentice sketched another bow and beat an awe-struck retreat. Not caring what tales the kid might tell of the “high-ranking Republic officer” he had escorted, I promptly slammed the door actuator and pounced on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable. It wasn't long before sheer mental exhaustion overtook me, ceasing all thoughts. — — — When I awoke, I had to check my chronometer three times before finally accepting the fact that I had slept for a full twenty Standard hours. Despite the shock, I felt extremely rested, as though I'd finally sloughed off a hundred-kilo suit of armor that had been encasing me like the skin of a nerf sausage for the past several weeks. Sitting up and easing my legs over the side of the bed, I stretched, taking in my surroundings as I did so. Like the rest of the sublevel, the walls were tiled in muted gray and red hexagons, while the floor was covered in clay-colored squares. On the floor across from the bed was a padded mat about a meter on each side that I supposed must be for meditation or training purposes. Along the wall opposite the entrance was a decent-sized chair and desk, which included a small computer terminal; above it, a small shelf had been grafted to the wall. I noticed that it had been stocked with datapads. Getting up, I rummaged through my duffel for another set of BDUs, but gave it up as a bad job after realizing that all three sets I owned were just as filthy as the ones I'd slept in. It was at that point that I noticed the brown parcel that had been left on the desk chair, which had been pulled aside so that the gift faced me. Oh no, I thought after opening it. They don't mess around with this stuff, do they? Disgusted with the fact that my only options were to run around this place either in full battle armor, full dress reds, or this tunic and robe getup, I finally gave in and went native. The cloth itched like nothing I'd ever experienced, the heavy outer cloak was hot and oppressive, and the leather boots were a bit tight in the ankle, but at least I wouldn't have knee-high initiates gawking at me as though I had stepped out of a war holodrama. Deciding not to unpack the duffel just yet, I left it to lean against my bed as I sat, now fully robed, at the small desk. Out of curiosity, I punched up the terminal and attempted to get a layout of the enclave. The computer was kind enough to oblige without too much coaxing, and I soon found out where I could get something to eat. Ignoring the seven datapads on the shelf, I switched the terminal back off as my stomach gave a huge grumble. Thankfully, the enclave didn't follow military protocols, and served its inhabitants whenever they were hungry, though the menu was understandably limited to native-grown or -raised foodstuffs. When I arrived at the sublevel mess hall after having visited the refresher, it was empty save for a trio of diners. A human, a Bothan, and a Falleen, all of whom were male and clad in the ubiquitous Jedi robes, were engaged in a heated philosophical debate even as they ate their meals. After obtaining as large a portion as I dared from the communal self-service area, I parked my rear on a bench close to them. “Morning,” I mumbled distractedly before shoveling a heaping forkful of nerf-and-kidney pudding into my mouth. Though relatively plain, the food was delicious, but I hadn't gotten two chews in before it dawned on me that the nearby conversation had come to a screeching halt. Chewing furiously and finally managing to swallow that first mouthful, I shot a glare in their direction. “Problem, gentlemen?” I asked none-too-politely. “No, ma'am,” the Falleen replied, shaking his head in a would-be casual way that fooled no one. “Well, that's not exactly true,” the black-and-tan furred Bothan interjected, cocking a thumb at his reptilian friend. “Fezor here isn't used to the sudden appearance of females he doesn't already know, particularly mammals.” “Right,” I said, rolling my eyes at the trio. The human, wisely in my opinion, was keeping silent, his attention directed firmly toward his own meal. To the extent that I could read the cues, I guessed that the two aliens, like their companion, were in their mid to late twenties, though I had no idea where in the Order's rank structure they were placed. Though I'd fought beside Jedi, and even gotten to know a few during the war, that didn't mean I had any clue as to how the Order itself worked. Hazarding a guess, I marked them down as newly-minted Knights. “Well Fezor,” I said, extending a hand toward him, “my name is Laera Reyolé, a humble Marine and guest of this fine facility.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am,” the Falleen Jedi replied with a nod. “We welcome you to our table.” “Thanks, I think,” I said, returning to my food after having scooted a few seats away to give the men their privacy. — — — After having gorged myself on Jedi cuisine, I left the mess hall, making my way toward the courtyard so I could get in some good old fashioned physical training to get my mind back in focus. After twenty-plus years in the service, a person gets used to certain routines; for me, working up a sweat was the best way to start off a new day, particularly when that day seemed as though it would be the first of many spent in the same location. Garrison-living, I called it, which applied whether or not such living was spent in an on-planet base or aboard a warship. Upon exiting the building, however, I soon realized how truly out-of-whack my sense of timing had become. Instead of the sunrise I had been expecting, the skies overhead were midnight black and spangled with stars. Nevermind that now, I thought to myself as I picked out a semi-secluded place to exercise. Just get your head on straight, and you can go from there... Shucking my cloak and placing it neatly upon a nearby bench, I began running through the standard Marine PT protocols; stretches, then pushups, situps, and spring-leaps, intermixed with place-running and quick-drop/quick-stand routines. As I began to sweat with the effort, I noticed that the itching caused by my garments' fabric had begun to subside, which was as good a start as any. Having finished the PT warm-up, I began to jog a circuit around the courtyard perimeter; unfortunately, I hadn't gone thirty paces before an all-too-familiar voice called through the night. “Captain Reyolé, a word with you?” Shaking my head ruefully as I blew an exasperated sigh, I did an about-face and jogged back toward the dimly-lit form of Vrook Lamar. “Something I can do for you, sir?” I asked, trying to sound polite, though I knew that “sir” wasn't the proper way to greet a Jedi Master. There you go again, Laera, I admonished myself. “There is,” he replied, apparently ignoring the slight cheek. “I had hoped, now that you are properly rested and fed, that you might be open to further discussions of your future.” Why am I not surprised, I thought to myself. “May as well, since there's not really anything else for me to do,” I said, walking back to retrieve my cloak. “You Jedi aren't as subtle as you like to think you are.” “Subtlety was not my intention,” Vrook retorted. “You Marines aren't as serious as you claim to be.” “Like you would know,” I shot back, slinging the heavy cloak over my left shoulder and trotting back toward the elder Jedi. “When was the last time you met a Marine?” “Eighteen Standard months ago,” Vrook said darkly. “A man named Thedus Bimm had been sent to Coruscant for treatment after having suffered severe wounds at Jaga's Cluster. I oversaw the Jedi healers' efforts to restore his mind as well as his body.” That brought me up short, and I could sense that Vrook had known that it would, too. “Ah, yes, that's right,” he continued on, driving the vibroblade deeper into my heart. “You two served in the same battalion during the war, if I'm not mistaken. Was he a friend of yours?” “Damn you,” I growled, hating the man for his insight. “Alright, you've made your point. Where do we go to 'discuss' this cluster-knock of a future you want to rope me into?” “Follow me,” Vrook replied, utterly unperturbed. — — — “Ah, Captain Reyolé,” the three-quarter sized holographic image of a middle-aged Bothan said as I entered the Council chambers behind Vrook, who took his usual seat. “I had been hoping for the chance to talk to you!” “Vice-Admiral Dun'vei,” I acknowledged mechanically as, snapping to attention, I offered him my best salute. The holographic admiral returned the gesture, his fur rippling at neck and shoulder, and I stood at ease. “Please, Captain, there's no need for parade-ground formalities. This is merely an informal session to discuss your unique status and what it means for you and your service with the Republic.” I shook my head, not quite believing what he was saying. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the Commandant of the Marine Corps himself doesn't usually dabble in tidying up personnel files.” “A fair point,” Dun'vei acknowledged. “But as you have already gathered, you are quite the exception, in more ways than one.” I shot Vrook a glare, which he either missed or ignored. You Jedi play dirty, too, I thought at him. Assuming I don't burn sky, I might just end up liking you... “Yes, Admiral, I've been made aware of the more pertinent facts.” “Indeed? Am I to assume that you have accepted their offer?” “Offer, Admiral?” I asked, stalling for time to gather my thoughts and suppress my private outrages. That son of a murglak Vrook went over my head? How dare he! “Captain Reyolé, you have been given an incredible opportunity!” Dun'vei replied, seemingly taken aback. “Given all that you have done in service to the Republic throughout your career, surely you must see the benefit of undergoing Jedi training?” I took a few moments to mull this over, letting the admiral stew in his own mental juices for a bit. Part of me was, I'll admit, intrigued at having learned of my own Force-sensitivity; it, along with my own curiosity, wanted to at least give the Jedi the benefit of the doubt—if only this one time. Another part wanted to reject the offer out of hand, to denounce the Jedi as selfish manipulators and insist on being assigned to a line unit. The two sides warred with each other for a few tense moments before their struggle was torn asunder by the viridian blade of General Vima Sunrider—the only Jedi I had ever trusted. “To be honest, Admiral, I'm conflicted.” I answered, finally admitting to the core truth of the matter. “I've been quite literally dead for almost a year and a half, and I'm still coming to terms with that. I have yet to learn why Revan wanted me resurrected, and now it looks as though the answer to that question will be forever lost. While I am humbled, even intrigued, by their offer, I don't know that I am cut out to be a Jedi. Not enough trust there, I think.” The holographic admiral was silent for several moments, his fur rippling to and fro as he drummed a finger against his jawline. “I understand, of course, Captain,” Dun'vei said, his voice pensive. “You should realize, however, that the Jedi can help to guide you toward understanding in this matter.” He paused, and his thoughtful look was replaced by the type of predatory grin that came so naturally to his kind. “Failing that, I can always assign you to Dantooine as head of its garrison." My heart sank. “Very well, Admiral, you win,” I sighed, turning to face the Council. “When do we start, O Great and Wise Masters?”
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