When There's Nowhere Else To Run

[Inyos Aamoran]

He had awoken early, though it took a chrono to tell him as much: sliding slowly through a sea of stars, the Whaledon had little reference against which to mark the passage of time.

Early was relative, of course. At some point, someone had made an arbetrary decision that a particular point would mark the start of the day aboard-ship; from that decision, shift patterns and sleep cycles were subsequently derrived. During the time of the Galactic Republic, naval vessels had elected to mimic the length of day of Coruscant - the so-called Galactic Standard Day - and zero had been established as at midnight, as measured at the Galactic Senate Building.

He had yet to determine if it was true, but he'd heard a rumour that someone had modified the clocks aboard the Whaledon to conform to time as measured at the Jedi Temple. He supposed he could easily have checked the validity, but chose not to - this was one of those instances where the notion itself offered far more reassurance and satisfaction than the actual truth.

In either case, it was still the early morning by the reckoning of most aboard, and as a result the corridors were mostly deserted; the only souls he encountered were the restless few like himself, either early to rise or late to lie. A few bleary-eyed nods and gestured greetings were offered, but no words: the Wheel was young, and its passengers unsettled; but in time no doubt, the pitifully small number of survivors would allow everyone to know everyone by name, eventually.

Ducking through a hatch, he stepped into a large room (http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20091110055356/stargate/images/c/c5/Comiccon2009_observation.jpg) that the Jedi had mostly cleared and declared a space for meditation and training. As he understood it, it had been chosen for the presence of a panoramic viewport that dominated most of the far wall, through which the stars cast the only light currently illuminating the room. Given the hour, he had expected to find it deserted; to his surprise he found himself not alone, and instead in the presence of young Master Loki.

He didn't bother drawing attention to his presence; a Jedi of Loki's apparent skill would have sensed his presence from the moment he'd entered, just as Inyos would have sensed Loki if his mind wasn't so out of tune and distracted these days. Instead, he walked calmly towards his fellow Jedi, and stood alongside.

His words, when they escaped his throat, sounded much more gruff and tired to his ears than he had expected. "Good morning."

[Abarai Loki]

The observation lounge was a regular of Loki's haunts in the morning, it provided him with some much-needed solitude, most of the time. Recently there had been an influx of new arrivals and conditions onboard the Whaladon were starting to feel a little... cramped. In his bid for peace, he came here to escape the relentless thrum of the ship's engines which had been known, on occassion, to make his quarters shake. In his hands there was a datapad, as ideal the room was for meditation it was rare Loki ever indulged himself in it on the grounds he considered himself a beacon of serenity, instead he was reading a report about the Knightfall and Captain Henning. Then there was a voice.

"You are Inyos Aamoran, correct?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

A stab of curiosity graced the fringes of his mind as to the contents of the datapad, but he kept it quashed and quelled, eyes instead focussed firmly on the viewport; in the unlikely event that it was relevant to him personally, Loki would no doubt inform him.

Things generally worked out better that way, Inyos had discovered, from experience. Back during the Clone Wars he had seen two many Jedi who were too eager to aid and assist, and whose curiosity and persistance saw them assigned to tasks that perhaps they were not entirely suited for; and that, in war-time, was often their undoing. Patience meanwhile allowed an objective and logical choice to be made; and Inyos had always trusted that, when a task arrived for which he was suited, then he was the Jedi they would send.

Of course, it did help that back then he'd been so unwaveringly sure of his own skills and abilities that his selection for something seemed obvious, and inevitable.

"I am," he stated simply, addressing Loki's question. Or perhaps it had been a statement merely veiled as one; something about the boy gave Inyos the impression that he would not have asked were the answer in any doubt.

Silence fell for a few moments; not an awkward silence, but instead a peaceful one, content in the knowledge that it existed because there was nothing further that was required to be said. Idle conversation was something that Mandan had ingrained in Inyos' mind through sheer, repatative insistance; and while Inyos had learned to handle it when it presented, he had not "learned to love it", as Mandan's strange phrasing would no doubt have been. To be freed from it, even if it was only this once, was a blessing; and a relief.

[Abarai Loki]

A minute passed. Then another. And another. Five minutes of blissful silence in total, allowing Loki to finish the report, albeit dissatisfied. His research into the enigmatic medic and captain of the Knightfall would contine, but another time. In an hour the first students will arrive in the cargo hold and before then he had to have breakfast, attend the weekly training summary, and write a strongly-worded letter to a Major Kelly Perris regarding the conduct of one of his pilots. His day planned, he turned from the viewport, offering Inyos a nod as he left.

The following morning Loki decided to go for a run. It was a familiar circuit which took him from one end of the ship to the other, utilising the scarcely occupied corridors of the engineering deck, the only downside being that each lap took him on a tour of the engine room and its greasy putrid delights. His morning excercise done, and with no commitments prior to his first lesson, Loki departed for the observation lounge to enjoy his last waking moments of peace.

This time it was occupied. There stood Inyos Aamoran in exactly the same spot as the day previous. He rubbed sweat from his brow using his sleeve - again in his usual black tunic but on account of the run his haori stayed at home - and took his place next to the silent Jedi. A glance and a curt nod was offered, and nothing more.

[Inyos Aamoran]

While yesterday it had been Loki who had spent their encounter reading, this time it was Inyos who clutched a datapad in his hands. Contained within was mostly trivia - names, and superficial details about the ships that were currently making up the Wheel. Through the viewport he watched, letting the logical, structured part of his mind construct an imagined map of what was too far away for his Jedi senses to properly percieve.

There was no purpose to it: no tactical benefit to him being able to translate the distant shapes into named vessels. He didn't know enough to coordinate a battle. And of course, the movements of the ships were beyond unpredictable, so to attempt to do so would be a fruitless, wasted effort. The exercise had no purpose beyond the simple desire to know. Were this the Jedi Temple, he would have sequestered himself in the Archives to study. In the absense of such facilities, he made do with what he had available.

One of the fighters from the Combat Air Patrol swept past the viewport; one of the A-Wings from Valkyrie Squadron, if the colours were anything to go by. He'd never seen such a craft before, it having been invented while he was on Ord Ithil. It reminded him of the Delta-7 he'd flown back with the Jedi Order; no surprise, since apparently the same engineer had been behind both designs.

The thought of fighters and his memories thereof danced whistfully about his mind. "Do you fly?" he asked, breaking his and Loki's shared silence.

[Abarai Loki]

First, Loki passed a casual glance his way, simply to ensure it was him who was being addressed. The question was unexpected but, while perhaps relevant to his reading material, Inyos had unknowingly touched on a topic which fascinated him. Despite this, there was absolutely no hint of fascination in his voice.

"I have flown," he began sensibly, watching the A-Wing patrolling in the distance, then: "I cannot fly - not for a lack of interest but due to inexperience... and time. I have been shown how to operate the weapons on a YV-666 light freighter, but not the piloting controls. There is talk of a Jedi starfighter squadron but... I have been informed my feet won't reach the pedals."

Another beat of silence shared between them, then he turned to Inyos and confirmed, "I cannot fly."

[Inyos Aamoran]

A faint ghost of a smile flickered on Inyos' lips. For him, it had been you aren't tall enough to see over the radar display, but the implication - that age, and the associated physical shortcomings that came with it were the only obstacle that prevented him from flying - was just the same. It was something that certain elders did, to avoid having to admit that it was numerical age that was the issue.

He'd been perhaps a few years younger than Loki when Anakin Skywalker had arrived at the Jedi Temple for the second time, sporting the robes and short hair of a Jedi Padawan. While he had never met the boy personally, he had certainly heard all about him, and his alledged exploits in the skies over Naboo. A sidelong glance scrutinised Loki's height, briefly; if Skywalker was of sufficient size to pilot a starfighter, Loki would surely be capable of managing just as well; particularly with the logical and ordered mind he demonstrated.

"I may not have a starfighter available, and my shuttle may not be as glamorous as the Layla," he offered, guessing that the YV-666 in question was the one referenced in his datapad, "But it does have the virtue of being completely pedal-free."

[Abarai Loki]

Unable to read the man before him, Loki turned once again to the wall of transparisteel and the expansive view it offered. He shook his head.

"If it is your intention to provoke envy with such boasting, you will fail."

[Inyos Aamoran]

"On the contrary," Inyos countered, a brief flash of a smile momentarily threatening to creep onto his face. "I merely wish to convey the knowledge of an opportunity for learning that is available to you, should you choose to take advantage of it."

He thought of Lúka again, and the promise he'd made to teach him to become a pilot: a promise that ultimately he had been unable to keep. Age had not been his delaying factor: instead it had been opportunity, for whenever Inyos had found himself in posession of a spaceworthy craft, there was usually urgency in their flight that made it far from appropriate for a learner pilot.

Any hint of the smile faded, a somber tone washing over his mind. "In uncertain times such as these," he offered, "It is best to be aware of every opportunity that is made available."

[Abarai Loki]

"In short, Inyos Aamoran," he said, a smart turn to survey him fully, "You are offering to instruct me in piloting?"

Rather than being a question that required an answer it was, if anything, an amendment to the Jedi's verbose meandering proposition. Loki speared him with his gaze, unflinching. It had been his experience that people revealed much about themselves this way but Inyos remained a closed book, patiently weathering his scrutiny. While doubt remained, Loki conceded, unable to resist the allure of knowledge. He nodded.

"Very well."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Very well?

A curious response to be sure, but then he supposed he should hardly have expected otherwise. To most on the Wheel he was an unknown quantity; and alas, at present he too was unsure of where he stood, and who or what he was. There had been a time when merely being a Jedi was enough to earn the trust of another: but those had been the times when the Jedi were to be trusted; back when they stood only for what was pure, and good, and just.

Loki was a Jedi from this age; not a Jedi from what had come before. With the Purge, and the Inquisitors, and everything else that had conspired against them, secrecy and deceit had replaced truth and honesty; and now, trust in a Jedi had to be earned.

Inyos offered a curt nod, drawing a line under his thoughts. "You have lessons." It was a statement, not a question; he wasn't forgetful enough to have lost track of what the order of the day was for the students aboard the Wheel. "I will meet you in the hangar, at 1900."

He turned, not bothering to say any more as he headed for the door. At the threshold however, he found himself compelled to halt, and offer one last parting comment. "You are welcome."

[Abarai Loki]

In return, Loki offered nothing but a quizzical arch of the eyebrow and sought out the impressive view once again to contemplate the day ahead. First, he must shower. Since his run he'd noticed an odour on his clothes simply unbecoming of a Jedi. He would then change to prepare for his first lesson of the day: Foundation Swordsmanship. Then there was Combat Theory followed by an entire lunch hour spent avoiding Acacius Blade. In the afternoon he'd instruct a lesson on intermediate swordplay and to finish the day he'd oversee the more experienced students taking part in what they had affectionately dubbed Duel Club. By which time he would undoubtedly be ready for another sonic shower.

Nineteen hundred hours. Loki waited dead centre of the hangar bay, uncertain of where exactly it was he'd be needed. A couple of mechanics gathered their tools from under a docked starfighter, they were in high spirits thankful for the rare opportunity to work on a ship of such calibre, their laughter crossed the vast expanse. He folded his arms and stared beyond the magnetic shield into the dark maw of space and wondered...

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos shifted in his seat, running through the necessary checks that, under normal circumstances, would take several minutes to perform - particularly given the age-addled quirks and problems that were unique to any ship; and to this one in particular. No doubt in the fullness of time, Loki would need to learn such things. Time was far from full today however, and such things could wait for later occasions.

A brief tone sounded from the console, informing him that 1900 hours had been reached. Glancing through the main viewport, his eyes settled on Loki, perfectly on time, and waiting patiently in the exact central point of the bay; Inyos knew for a fact that it was the exact centre, having calculated as much already, for his own personal curiosity.

Reaching for the communications array, he manipulated the necessary controls to power up the Viridian Knight's external speakers, the resulting effect turning his monotone words into something deep and more suited to a children's holomovie villain.

"Abarai Loki," he stated, simply.

[Abarai Loki]

His head snapped in the direction of the talking ship. Through the transparisteel he discerned the shape of Inyos Aamoran and after a brief check to his periphery, where the mechanics stood muttering, he crossed the room. It was bigger than he'd expected and looked like a variation on the Imperial shuttle in which he had once escaped with Acacius Blade. He realised as he approached just how much proportionately bigger than him it was and the thought being its pilot felt suddenly daunting.

The boarding ramp was down so he took it upon himself to climb inside. He was in an antechamber, flanked on either side by round airlock doors, one of which came to life with a long grinding groan. The cockpit opened up before him.

"Inyos Aamoran, you must have kept interesting company to come into possession of such a ship."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos mused the question, thinking back to the exploits he'd engaged in while aboard this ship, and those like it. While the Viridian Knight herself had been obtained from a military surplus yard on a backwater planet - bought using the interest from bank accounts on Nar Shaddaa that were thankfully still active after his years on Ord Ithil - he had many times flew in similar shuttles; indeed, he and young Lúka had used one such craft to escape the Jedi Purge itself, and with the addition of Mandan Hidatsa they had begun their flight from the new Empire.

There were bitter memories mixed with the fond, but the new balance resulted in the vaguest hint of a smile. "In fact, 'interesting' does not even begin to describe it," he countered, enigmatically.

Brushing his thoughts aside, and adjusting his expression into a frown, he turned his attention to the lesson at hand. Having observed the instruction that Loki gave to other Jedi aboard the Wheel on more than one occasion, it felt odd to be the one in this position instead.

"Familiarise yourself with the controls," he said, calmly. "You will need to identify the repulsorlift controls, and the sublight engines; we will need to make use of those first of all."

[Abarai Loki]

Passing Inyos, Loki slipped into the pilot's seat taking stock of his surroundings. Perched between his legs was the flight yoke, the throttle quadrant sat on his right side while to his left he noticed a convoluted panel of switches and dials. One in particular stood out to him:

REPGEN

He flicked the switch and the ship lurched slightly as it left the flight deck. Loki paused, the sudden floating sensation eliciting from him a curious hmph. He turned to Inyos who had just taken a seat.

"I am familiar with repulsorlift technology, having repaired a number of droids equipped with such generators, however I wasn't entirely certain of the field strength."

Here, he pressed a finger to a glass dial embedded in the control panel, the needle a quarter-turn to the right.

"So I stuck with your settings. Where is the switch to retract the boarding ramp and landing struts?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos had expected to observe in silence at least for a few moments. He had waited for some sort of query or confirmation from Loki before any progress was made; certainly before any motion ensued. Thankfully, his Jedi senses were able to prepare him for Loki's intent to act a fraction before he did, sparing him the embarassment of appearing startled.

"No need to appologise," he responded simply, keeping his tone entirely free from judgement. "The repulsor field can be somewhat -" He searched for the word that Mandan would have used. "- 'twitchy', at times."

Attention turning to Abarai's specific question, he added: "The controls for the landing gear are on that panel located above your head."

[Abarai Loki]

"I didn't apologise," he said, mildly perplexed, then returned to the task at hand.

Once the boarding ramp and landing struts were safely tucked away, Loki then took the flight stick to hand and gave it the slightest of nudges. There was a delay, no more than a fraction of a second, before the nose gently dipped and righted itself again as if the ship were bobbing on a bed of water. He repeated this once to accustom himself to it then wrapped his fingers around the throttle lever. On the other side of the hangar the congregation of mechanics had doubled in size, Loki figured they were about eighty yards away, and doubt set in. He glanced at his instructor.

"I presume a little pressure will not send your ship careening through the hangar wall?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos watched in silence, midly impressed by the manner in which Loki exercised cautious preparation. His experiments into the ships' controls were thoughtfully executed, and showed at least a basic understanding of the mechanics and principles upon which the shuttle operated. Mentally, he began preparing for potential manoeuvres that he might suggest once they made it into open space.

Preferably not through the wall in the process, of course.

Keeping his tone level, and eyes still watching out through the forward viewport, Inyos offered his response. "Provided you are able to aim us towards a suitable opening in said wall, I do not believe there will be any risk of that."

[Abarai Loki]

A confident nod, Loki pushed the throttle forward a fraction and the engines yawned awake. The ship crept forward with a lethargic drone and with both hands Loki took the W-shaped flight yoke and turned it to the left. The soft blue glow of the magnetic shield came into view, too slowly for Loki's liking so he gave the throttle another nudge, and in response the engines whined. They rolled by a row of smaller ships and approached the threshold of open space, holding a level course.

"Inyos Aamoran, I am curious. How tall are the wings?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos' brow twitched, searching for that particular piece of information: it was not a question that he had ever truely considered. Based on the specifications, he knew the height of the craft with the wings extended; but collapsed was another matter, and would require all manner of mental calculations and geometry to realise. Instead, he chose to think back to the occasion when he had landed the craft aboard in the first place, adapting it into a response to the relevant question that Loki no doubt intended to ask.

"We are shorter than the hanger doors," he stated, his purely factual tone not particularly reassuring. "By approximately five meters."

He shot a sidelong glance towards the teenager. "Provided you do not exceed a velocity of 88 decimetres per second, our elevation will not increase to any discernable degree." He hesitated, offering a small reassurance. "Remain at a walking pace, and we will be fine."

[Abarai Loki]

"Five meters."

Another push against the throttle and the ship picked up speed, not exceeding his instructor's guidlines, but merely teetering on the edge of them. Indeed the Viridian Knight started to climb and his hand was already on the flight stick making the neccessary adjustments to their pitch. They crossed the magnetic barrier, a ripple of blue chased through the cockpit, and found themselves gliding through space. The mighty roar of the sublight engines suddenly diminished, becoming an unassuming whine from the back of the shuttle. Loki flicked another switch.

"Wings," he said confidently, and a soft mechanical ticking from within the ship suggested he was correct, "Have you been a piloting instructor before?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos considered correcting him with the more accurate Flight Stabilizers term. In the truest description of the metallic struts that were now extending in an inverted V beneath the craft, they provided absolutely no lift, and thus did not qualify as true wings; instead, they merely served as a counterbalance, spreading the weight of the craft to ease manoeuverability, and to help eliminate the risk - common in the bulkier, more compact shuttle designs - of an overzealous pilot inadvertantly inverting the craft.

He considered correcting him, but decided against it.

"I have," he stated simply, eyes fixed on the stars. Thoughts of Lúka swarmed through his brain again; he fought to keep them at bay. "I once had a Padawan - before the Purge, of course - and I instructed him to fly aboard a shuttle very much like this."

[Abarai Loki]

His brow furrowed at that piece of information. That Inyos had experienced something resembling a normal Jedi life before he came to the Wheel was an idea Loki simply hadn't entertained. In light of it, however, the thought of him training padawans wasn't unsurprising. He had a teacher's patience.

After a slight alteration to their course, the Whaladon came fully into view and for the first time it struck Loki just how unimpressive it looked. An ugly, unassuming Action VI transport, adrift in the gulf of space with no weapons, and completely dependent on the protection of bigger fish. He frowned and shoved the throttle, in a heartbeat the shuttle dived under the Whaladon's belly and turned towards the nearest star. Soft amber light bathed the cockpit.

"Perhaps, Inyos Aamoran, it is time you took on a new apprentice."

[Inyos Aamoran]

"Perhaps."

The suggestion echoed in his mind, but he paid it no real consideration. It was something he had already considered, ever since he'd first set foot aboard the Wheel. Skilled Jedi were few and far between, and this new generation of Force users deserved to learn from the best that were available; by the reckoning of the Old Order, Inyos was a Knight, and deserved to be counted amongst that.

By Inyos' reckoning however, he was a far cry from that noble ideal. Jedi were intended to be the pinacle of everything that was light, and good, and just in the galaxy: the complete antithesis of darkness and evil. Inyos was far from that; he'd allowed the dark side to seduce him, and while the hold it had over him had been broken, he feared that the mark it had left behind would leave him forever tainted.

"Roughly ten years after the Purge," he stated slowly, unsure why he had decided that Loki of all people was the right choice to hear his confession, "A Knight named Mandan Hidatsa and I travelled to a planet named Ord Ithil in response to a vision that he believed was a cry for help." He stared at the stars, marvelling at a sight that had been kept from him on the lifeless, lightless world that had trapped him. "It turned out to be a ploy by a darksider, hoping to somehow use us to aid her escape. Ord Ithil, it transpired, was so corrupted by the dark side that it was as if it had become an inescapable black hole in the Force."

He fell silent for a moment, eyes not straying from the starfield. "She separated Mandan and I, preying on us individually. I had always remained strict and true to the Jedi Code, but Mandan was always more liberal. In the years since Knightfall, he took a wife; she was able to use those raw emotions to turn him." His jaw clenched. "Turn him against me."

His eyes fell, and a sigh escaped him, shame weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I succomed to fear and anger; I defeated him, and in my rage I killed her in cold blood. Utterly consumed by shame and grief, I flung myself from the balcony." His words sounded impossible, but the edge that crept into his tone made it clear that they were anything but. "Something on that planet did not permit me to die, and kept me prisoner there for a decade."

He finally managed to raise his eyes, and cast a sidelong look at the far younger man. "I barely consider myself a Jedi, Master Loki; let alone a Knight in a position to pass my knowledge on to others."

[Abarai Loki]

"And yet, here you are."

Loki allowed his words to hang in the air for a moment, as if time would grant them some ambiguous depth, but in truth he was silent with thought. The shuttle banked confidently below the stern of the Valiant, engines now at half capacity, and easing back on the flight stick Loki brought the ship to flank the cruiser at a generous distance. Lights from crew quarters strobed the viewport.

"You became attached. That is all," he said at last, "Everything else is trivial. You ended the lives of fallen Jedi and when you saw darkness in yourself you attempted to destroy it. That is the Jedi way."

He kept his eyes fixed forward, turning over the facts in his mind, filtering out what he percieved as irrelevent emotional detail. He continued in his usual indifferent tone:

"That you are here now tells me you're strong, and given our current struggle, to not pass that on would be a sin."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Sin. An intreguing choice of term, given the religious connotations. In it's most archaic form it derived from archery - the word literally meant 'to fall short' when shooting at a target, and had come to metaphorically mean the same in other cases. His fall from light and grace was certainly a sin. To kill in vengeance had equally been so. It seemed odd to hear the perspective that harbouring his dark secret was equally one.

He mused Loki's words for a moment longer. "Perhaps you are right, Master Loki," he said quietly. "But the greatest lesson that I could impart would be one of redemption: of how I had my brush with darkness, but returned to the light."

He shook his head slowly, feeling the darkness within him stirring like a slumbering beast. "I am not there yet."

* * *

Three days had passed since their time aboard the shuttle, and since they had parted ways at the end of that lesson, Loki and Inyos had not spoken. The young boy's words however - wise beyond his years - had not been far from Inyos' mind; and so today he found himself lurking outside the chamber where Loki had been instructing students on the basics of Jedi combat, waiting until the last of the fledgeling Jedi had filed out before he stepped inside.

"Abarai Loki." It was a greeting; a call for attention; everything necessary trimmed down to the minimum of what was required, like most other sentences that passed between them. Inyos stood, for once devoid of the long tan coat he habitually wore. "May I have a moment?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Inyos Aamoran."

He stood next to one of the makeshift weapon racks Cirrsseeto had helped him build and after depositing a training stick, he tested its sturdiness with a stiff shake. The Layla's multi-skilled mechanic had done a sound job. He turned at last to face the new arrival.

"My lessons for the day are finished. How can I help?"

[Inyos Aamoran]

From about his person, he produced his lightsaber. The hilt was ellegant in its simplicity; unlike most it didn't gleam with polished durasteel - the finish was matte, wrapped in dark strips that provided pleanty of grip at every point. It was shorter, and slightly more slender than most, a subtle curve and precision weighting hinting at consideration towards Makashi, though not with the single-minded focus of some of the more aggressively curved 'sabers. The only concession towards style was in the form of a tsuba wrapped around the emitter: and even that placed function above asthetics; the activation stud was tucked away safely underneath, easy to activate and yet completely safe from accidental triggering.

Inyos' eyes regarded the weapon beneath a furrowed brow, letting it balance, non-threateningly in his palm. "I have not used this," he stated, gaze on the 'saber despite the fact that his voice was clearly addressing Loki, "Since Ord Ithil."

His eyes rose, settling on the young Jedi. "It is not pacifism that has stilled my blade; it is fear. I would -" He hesitated, mind fumbling for words. "- appreciate your assistance in amending that."

[Abarai Loki]

"There was once a Jedi who believed that those who did not fear their weapon had no right to wield it. He was an excellent swordsman, a true warrior who poured his soul into his combat. And when we fought he gave me everything, including his fear, and I saw his best as he saw mine."

While he spoke he shrugged off his white haori, folded it in his arms and placed it by the weapons rack. He found a spot near the centre of the cargo hold and drew his weapon.

"So, Inyos Aamoran," his blade sprung forth with an eager hum, "Be afraid."

[Inyos Aamoran]

There was something reassuring about the sound of Loki's lightsaber as it activated; something familiar and calming about the constant hum of the energy blade, as the containment field contended with the contact of air against it. He let the sound wash over him, absorbing it into his being just as he absorbed Loki's words in his mind.

"There was also once a Jedi who believed differently, Master Loki. His name was Odan-Urr, and his words have been a guide to me since I was a child."

Reaching out with his mind, Inyos' eyes closed as he percieved the limits of his environment; established the boundaries and obstacles in the room within his minds eye.

"There is no emotion; there is peace."

He felt the gravity; considered the clearence between him and the ceiling. He felt the space around him like an arena, and became one with it.

"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge."

He felt the weight of his lightsaber in his hand; tested the weight and balance as it deftly twirled around in his fingers, adjusting to a more comfortable grip.

"There is no passion; there is serenity."

He reached inside himself, and found the memories that brought him torment; saw the responses they usually provoked in him begin to form like ripples scattered across the surface of the pond. Through force of will he hurled a great boulder of focus into the water, a single point of impact throwing out a wave that swept all other disturbances away from the surface of his mind.

"There is no chaos; there is harmony."

His eyes snapped open, no longer conflicted as they had been for all these months since Ord Ithil; resolved instead into the calm tranquility of a clear task, and a clear course of action.

"There is no death; there is the Force."

He shifted, slow and calculated, into his ready stance. Weight balanced equally between both feet, knees bent, body held vertically. The lightsaber was gripped close to the pomel with one hand, but it was disabled, resting against the open palm of his other hand, which in turn rested against his thigh.

His eyes focussed on his opponent. "I am prepared, Master Loki. You may strike when ready."

[Abarai Loki]

"I am not your master," he said, taking on a dangerous tone, "And nor am I a cripple. Your handicap offends me."

[Inyos Aamoran]

A slight twitch of Inyos' eyebrows came in reaction to Loki's statement. "Indeed you are not my Master," he agreed, wondering if perhaps the usage of 'Master' as a title for unmarried males had fallen out of fashion during his time on Ord Ithil. "My Master was Twi'leki, and as best I can tell, you do not posess lekku."

He rolled his shoulders, keeping his stance loose. "Nor do I offer any kind of handicap." His eyes narrowed in challenge, a hint of edge creeping into his voice. "Strike me if you can, boy."

[Abarai Loki]

"I see."

He lowered his guard and slowly closed the distance between them, lightsaber buzzing hungrily by his side. This wasn't a duel with Anbira Hicchoru. Inyos was an experienced duelist who, despite his clumsy taunt, clearly understood the subtleties of battle psychology. Loki studied him in his approach; his posture, his arm, and his lightsaber. The first attack would be a swift draw, timed precisely with the blade's ignition, and immediately he would be at an advantage with his greater reach. He would lure his opponent within range then all he had to do was react.

"Inyos Aamoran, it is time to wake your blade from its slumber."

He struck immediately, a smart lunge brought him within his opponent's reach, and his lightsaber pressed forward intent on severing his arm the moment it moved.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos drew, and the ice-blue blade of his lightsaber bursting into life; but his motions were not the ones that Loki had anticipated. Inyos allowed his weight to shift backwards, a step taken to clear himself from range of Loki's weapon, his own blade swinging with enough force to halt Loki's advance.

"You anticipate well," Inyos observed, muscles fighting against the power of Loki's lunge for a moment, before he thumbed the activation stud, his blade vanishing in an instant, leaving momentum to advance Loki into thin air.

Arms casually falling to his sides, lightsaber silent once again, he dropped easily into a relaxed Niman opening stance; sans blade, of course. "Unfortunately, your resolve leaves you unflexible in the face of unexpected change."

[Abarai Loki]

On the first step his forward momentum ceased and the force of his lunge rolled effortlessly into a swift counter-clockwise turn. Again his lightsaber was upon Inyos, even as he offered his untimely critique, and this time its seering tip sought to carve a grin into his neck.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos' lightsaber exploded into life again, the energy halting Loki's swing mere inches from his throat. He stepped back and turned, body dodging around the tip of the blade to stand on Loki's side of the 'saber; in the same motion he killed power to his lightsaber for a split second, allowing the younger Jedi's blade to pass through before his own reformed, pressure applied to accellerate the motion of Loki's swing, pushing the blade safely away from Inyos' body.

He held it there, a two-handed grip pressing down against Loki's sword, before a hand released and manifested a thrust of Force power aimed squarely at Abarai's chest, shoving him backwards.

Again, Inyos' blade fell silent, but his stance was more alert and prepared this time. "Impressive," he conceded. "Your determination is admirable."

[Abarai Loki]

The lighstabers issued a sigh of relief upon parting. Gone were the cracks of rutting energy blades, and soon, only the soft murmur of Loki's weapon remained. Then silence. Once the cool blue of his lightsaber diminished, his hand dropped to his side. He met Inyos's gaze and in a voice weighted with dispassion, said:

"Your turn."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos bowed his head in acceptance, and held his lightsaber out in front of him, fingers rolling as he adjusted the grip, and woke the blade once more. He rolled his shoulders, weapon held ready in a remarkably basic stance. He advanced with slow determination, watching carefully for the shifts in Loki's posture that might give clues to his reaction.

Striking, he swung the blade in a powerful arc, aiming for the younger Jedi's knees. At the last moment he killed the blade, hilt passing harmlessly through the remainder of the swing before the blade ignited again; with a snap he reversed the direction of his attack, a less powerful but much faster slice aimed at Loki's other leg.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki was already in the air, having hopped to avoid the first strike, and although he'd anticipated further trickery, it would've been foolish to stand his ground and accept the brunt of the attack. So when Inyos snapped his blade back for a swift second blow, he felt a small foot push against his saber hand. Before him, the young Jedi climbed, placing a second nimble foot upon his shoulder, and when Loki's third footstep pressed gently against the back of his opponent's head, he was propelled away through the air and down into a comfortable roll across the ground.

In a single motion, he was up on his feet, and turned to faced Inyos without making a single gesture of attack with his dormant weapon.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos stumbled forward, thrown off-balance by Loki's nimble leap; a timely thrust outwards with the Force arrested his fall, and allowed him to keep his feet. He thumbed the blade into silence, and kept his posture low; there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"You fight much as my friend Mandan did," he observed, casually rolling his shoulders loose. The corner of his mouth tugged with a hint of extra smile. "Unfortunately for you, I have considerable practice against such tactics."

Aided by the Force, Inyos covered the distance between them in a few quick steps, swinging his blade in a long sweep that would carve Loki from hip to shoulder. Anticipating the dodge that the young Jedi would no doubt employ - an evasive in case Inyos tried any more of his Tràkata tricks - he let his off-hand fall free of the weapon's hilt, and reached out with the Force to grasp Loki's lightsaber, body twisting sideways and arms opening wide as he mimed the somantics of wrenching it from the boy's grip.

[Abarai Loki]

In a flash of awareness, Loki sprung off his feet and allowed the unseen force to pull him and his lightsaber to Inyos's side. And at this range, there was little more than a few inches between his opponent and the business end of his weapon. He thumbed the activation switch.

[Inyos Aamoran]

A snatched parry swept his lightsaber up in an arc, clashing against Loki's blade and deflecting it to the side; even so, the strike had been a little too close for comfort.

He took a few careful steps backwards and disabled his 'saber, hands pressing together around the silenced hilt as he drew in a breath, drawing on calm, and the Force. "You have a formidable defense," he observed, one foot sliding backwards, weight balanced between his two legs. He swung his arm up, 'saber bursting to life as he held it above his head like a scorpion poised to strike; his other hand reached out towards Loki in invite, his brow furrowed slightly. "Demonstrate that offense for me again."

[Abarai Loki]

Immediately, Loki obliged with a simple horizontal swipe designed to score a neat line across his opponent's vulnerable chest. There was no real intent behind the blow, it was merely a means to draw Inyos from his never-ending ready stance and pull him into the fight. He was curious to see his reaction.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos spun, the wrong way as far as common sense and logic was concerned. Rather than twist away from the slash that Abarai aimed at his chest, he turned towards it, turning his back towards his opponent. As he did so, he pushed out with his lightsaber, holding the blade vertical. The two 'sabers clashed, perpendicular, the force of the impact adding momentum to Inyos' turn; he added effort of his own to build on it, dropping his body low like a hover skater to slash at Loki's ankles.

[Abarai Loki]

There was something Loki found very odd about Inyos's style; it was erratic, unpredictable, and often downright bizarre. If his intention was to confuse his opponent, he would fail, but Loki felt there was something else at work behind his wild sudden manouveurs. Perhaps in time, the secret behind his art would reveal itself.

He angled his weapon downwards to intercept his opponent's sweeping strike, lightsabers meeting with an inquisitive hiss. In answer to the offense, Loki flicked his saber out, gliding it along the inside of Inyos's blade in a rising arc sure to split him asunder should he feel disinclined to move.

[Inyos Aamoran]

A smile tugged at the corner of Inyos' mouth. While he would never allow himself to consider sparring - predominantly a training exercise - to be fun, he had always managed to derrive some modicombe of enjoyment from pitting his combat prowess against others; particularly when, as he so often did in matches against Mandan, Ilias, and the others with whom he'd trained, he emerged victorious.

Pushing hard against the ground with the Force, he leapt into the air, propelled backwards across the room by unseen forces. The movement lacked the normal mid-air tumble of finesse he would normally have added, the height of the room not permitting such aerobatics, but none the less the leap carried him well clear of Loki and his blade, giving him much of the room's span to prepare for Loki's next strike.

He flexed his shoulder, dropping into his unassuming and seemingly unprepared ready stance. "You continue to impress me; your instructor must have been quite the swordsman. You are a little predictable, however." He allowed his smile to broaden ever so slightly. "Have you nothing with which to surprise me?"