The Prodigal

[Rev Solomon]

Reverend Solomon had walked the path from the Sanctuary One colony to the Great Jedi Library plenty of times before. Sometimes to review a new discovery by the dig crews, sometimes to consult on new paths of exploration, sometimes simply to meditate in a place shaped by the Jedi thousands of years ago. The Force still resonated with their deeds, their spirits, even after five millennia, and communing with them helped Solomon to bridge the gap between these uncertain times and the golden age of the Jedi Order.

This time, however, he turned down a little-used path short of the library grounds. It was not unlike the hunting tracks the Ysanna used - simply a narrow strip of earth beaten down over time by a single pair of feet walking in the same footsteps over and over. But this was a desolate path, one with nothing at its end but solitude. He'd walked that path himself for many years, and he knew how it weighed on the soul.

The Jedi of the Library were not the only lost generation on Ossus.

Presently he came to a permanent field tent pitched in a clearing just barely large enough to hold it. It had stood here long enough that vines were already beginning to crawl over its rigid walls, though they had been studiously hacked away from the door and windows. Solomon had tried calling ahead on the comm. earlier in the day, twice, and received no answer. So the only thing left was to try calling in person.

In his left hand Solomon carried a cardboard carton with six unmarked bottles of brown glass clinking inside. He raised the carton and rapped his knuckles against the door.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"What?" came an annoyed voice from inside, muffled only slightly by the thin, rigid walls of the permatent. When no reply came, the tent's occupant sighed, his annoyance echoed by the creak of mattress springs, the shuffle of fabricand the vwip! of a zipper.

Shuffling steps drew close to the door - a short trek as the tent itself barely measured twelve feet by twelve feet, and at last the locking latch inside the door clicked free.

Due to the slight angle of the permatent walls, the door could only open outward, and so Halajiin Rabeak opened it slowly, careful not to hit whoever was on the other side. Only a few inches, at first, then wide enough that he could be seen, but not so wide that it would allow this newcomer entry. Eyes squinting in the daylight, left eye moreso than his right, Hal studied his visitor, then glanced down the path to see if there was anyone else. Satisfied that this fellow was alone, Hal opened the door the rest of the way, and stood in its frame. Fur mussed, and dressed in a loose tee shirt and a pair of well-worn cargo trousers, the yellow-furred Nehantite had clearly seen better days, but he cared far less about his appearance than being visited. "Can I, uh... help you?" he asked. "If you're lost, the complex is that way," he then pointed.

[Rev Solomon]

"Oh, I'm not lost," Solomon replied. "I came here to talk to you, if you'll permit it. I hope this isn't a bad time."

He was dressed in his customary nerskin coat that hung down to his knees over a black tunic with a white clerical collar, and a tan, broad-brimmed hat sat on his head to keep off the afternoon sun. Once again he hefted the carton in his hand. The glass inside clinked invitingly.

"Brought us a little refreshment, too."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Well, this is... new. Hal's higher reasoning spoke inside his head. Nobody's ever really come visiting on a social call.

Who cares? He has... beer? Looks like beer.

"Well, thanks," Hal replied. It was only then that he remembered that his visitor only had one fully functional arm, and so the Nehantite reached out to carefully take the six-pack. "Come on in. It's a bit of a mess, though," he said, stepping back out of the doorway. "Thought you preacher types don't drink, though?"

Inside the tent was a far cry from the jungle beyond its walls. Heaps and heaps of books, datapads, scrolls and other items scavenged from the Great Library were strewn across a desk and stacked beside it, as well as stacked in other various locations around the room. A large bed dominated one corner, while another was taken up by a second desk loaded with all manner of half-assembled tech, and a holovision monitor. Clothing seemed relegated to a sort of makeshift shelving unit, being one of the lowest priorities in the tent.

[Rev Solomon]

Relieved of his burden, Solomon removed his hat and ducked through the door into Hal's humble abode. He'd heard from Loki and Anbira about the collection the Nehantite had amassed on the sly, but he hadn't quite imagined the scope of it. A part of him was outraged that Hal had taken such liberties, but it wasn't as if the excavation crews were wanting for materials. Hal had as much right to the wealth of the library as any of them did.

Hal's question brought a smile to the preacher's face as he found a seat by the desk. "Wrong denomination," he said. "And thank God for that. Actually, that beer you're holding was brewed by the monks I stayed with on Generis. A long-standing tradition of the Faith that goes back thousands of years."

He set his hat aside on a relatively clear section of the desk and shrugged his coat off his shoulders. "So, Hal. How have you been?"

Most people asked the question as an extension of "hello," not really wanting an answer. But the look of concerned interest on Solomon's face was a genuine as could be.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

As the tent possessed only one chair, Hal took a seat upon his bed, trying to smooth out the covers with one paw while resting the six-pack on the other desk with his other paw. "Holy beer. Can't say I've ever had that, before. Hope you don't mind it warm, I don't exactly have a blast chiller, in here," he laughed.

Short work was made of one bottlecap upon the edge of the desk, and he extended the open bottle to Solomon.

Cracking his own open, the Nehantite shrugged, giving the noncommittal, "Eh, fine. Nothing special," in response to the Jedi preacher's inquiry. Lifting the bottle up to his lips, he paused for a sniff, brow wrinkling with curiosity at that scent, then took a swig. Immediately Hal's posture straightened, eyes opening wider, and he worked the amber liquid around in his mouth before shooting a look of incredulity back to Solomon. "Wow. That is... that's amazing. I actually feel really sorry for your more limited palate, after tasting that."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon took a measure of his own bottle and similarly held it before swallowing. Beer this good deserved to be savored, like choice wine. Even with his more limited palate, he could taste the monastery in the complex of flavors, from the green crops ripening in the terraced fields, to the sweet incense burning for afternoon prayers, to the cold and boundless sky vaulting over the snow-capped mountains. He couldn't help but wonder what else Hal was able to detect in the heavenly bouquet.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," he said. "It always seems to taste better when it's shared."

He leaned back in his seat and gestured with his bottle toward the stacks of flimsis, books, and datapads that covered nearly every available surface. "You've got quite a collection here. If you don't mind my asking, is there something in particular you've been looking for?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal busied himself with another sip, part of him analyzing the beer itself, the other part of him gauging the depth of Solomon's question. Millions of answers came to him, but none seemed correct. He'd devoted countless hours to reading, translating and restoring what he could salvage from the library, and much of his work had been transcribed and submitted to the Council so that they could review it and disseminate his research to the others in the Order. But was there one thing in particular he was looking for, that he honestly thought could be found in the pages of such ancient books?

No. But that wasn't stopping him from looking.

"Answers," he spoke at last. "This is supposed to be the greatest source of Jedi knowledge in the universe. I've found all manner of amazing stuff, but I've found no answers."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon nodded, and he let his beer come to rest on one knee. "If a man is looking for answers, that generally means he has questions."

It was refuge in the obvious, but he let it hang there, content to allow Hal to frame it in any way he chose.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Great. Not only is this guy the preacher, but he's apparently also the Jedi psychiatrist. They think you're nuts, Hal.

He doesn't seem like the other psychiatrists we've had to see, though.

Yeah, but the Jedi didn't have such slim pickin's before, either.

Can we at least pretend like he actually cares? I'm gonna do that.

"So many questions," Hal replied out loud. His tailtip flicked idly, his eyes unable to meet Solomon's gaze. Biting his lower lip, the Nehantite seemed content to leave his answer to just that, but something inside of himself made him continue. "Why?" the word slipped from his mouth.

It was after that word that his eyes darted back up to meet Solomon's, accusation in their gaze. "Why are the Jedi like this? Why did they fall? Why did your Order become so arrogant that they could not see this coming? Why did someone think a prophecy was more worthwhile than the lives of countless billions, trillions, even, that have been lost because of this 'Empire' that was allowed to rise to power with the help of your Order! Mine would have never allowed that, so what the hell went wrong while I was frozen? How, in the span of only one or two generations, did the Jedi fuck it all up?! And now, to 'rebuild,' we count on the remainder of that order to teach and train the new generation? What right does this Council have to teach anyone! It's their Order's fault that it fell in the first place!"

Through the course of his questions, Hal's voice had grown from accusation to rage, his body tense, and eyes blazing red in their irises. Beer forgotten, Halajiin focused all his questions upon Solomon, the unfortunate victim who had fallen into his turmoil's trap.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon listened without surprise, indignation, or condemnation. Confession was good for the soul, whether it was of past sins or simply feelings that had been bottled up for far too long. When Hal was done with his invective, the preacher simply wrapped his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle.

"I've asked many of those same questions myself," he said. "I think we all have. Those of us who lived through the Purge have had almost thirty years now to wrestle with them. You got hit with the full weight of history in just a matter of days."

He let his eyes drop to rove the corners of the tent, then raised them again to meet the crimson of Hal's grief and anger. "There's no way around it, Hal. The Jedi failed. They failed to protect the people of the galaxy, and they failed to protect their own. Every Jedi alive has lived through the consequences. Now we're doing our best to pick up the pieces, to learn from the mistakes of our own past, and to build a better future for the generations to follow us. But bear in mind that our Council is made up of Jedi who were padawans or younglings while the Emperor was gathering his power. For better or for worse, the old Council is gone."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Then why won't they listen to me? Why do they dismiss me so casually, pretending they know better?" Hal snapped back. "I could tell them so much about who we were, what we did, and how we acted, but they don't want to hear it from me. They think I'm brash, impulsive and unpredictable, and you know what? They're right. But that isn't because I don't understand how a Jedi should be. I understand all too well, and yet I can still call myself a Jedi despite not fitting the Loki mold. I went behind their backs, yes, and I deceived them, yes, but it was for their own good, and it was hardly out of line with what a good Jedi should do."

Hal's voice carried anger, but within that anger flowed a river of righteousness, be it self-righteousness or delusion. "I acted because they would not. I sought out what they believed to be a core of their being - lightsabers - and I gave it to them. And in the process, I showed our enemies that we were not cowering, spineless mice who know nothing more than to run and hide. I showed this Empire what a real Jedi could do, and you know what? Because of my planning, my training and my leadership, not one of those I took with me were hurt. I put myself in the forefront of danger so that I could deliver those I took with me back safely. You think the Council even bothered to think of that when I returned? When they judged and sentenced me? To this day, they still can't understand what I did for them! Hell, I even built most of the training sabers the padawans use, and I didn't ask for anything for it. I've been transcribing these books, and submitting them to you lot, and do I get so much as a thank you? Of course not! I sit out here, on my own, not part of your Order while you lot glorify Loki and his strict, unwavering dedication to what he thinks a Jedi should be, while ignoring the humanity of his students! Is he what you want? Is he what you think a Jedi should be? Unfeeling? A machine that denies their own soul? Becuase that's how this whole mess started, in the first place, and I'll be damned if I have to act like that to be part of you!"

[Rev Solomon]

Now that the sluicegates were open, it seemed, everything was coming out as a flood. Solomon didn't attempt to interrupt until Hal was finished again.

"You covered a lot of ground there," he said. "Where would you like to begin?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Shoulders relaxing, Hal sighed and answered, "Why don't we start at the very beginning."

A very good place to staaaaart!

Oh, shut up, you.

A sip of beer helped calm his nerves, eyes slowly beginning to fade from their red. "Ilum. Let's go back to Ilum."

[Rev Solomon]

The preacher nodded. Hal hadn't been shy about his opinions before Ilum, but that was where the real conflict had begun. Solomon hadn't been a full-fledged member of the Council then, but as a senior knight he'd filled a seat as an adviser, and had weighed in on the proceedings on Hal's discipline. This would not be the first time since then that a council member had discussed Ilum with Hal, and it was somewhat disappointing that he was still hitting all the same talking points.

"Ilum, then," he replied. "I remember how desperate our situation was back then. I was focused on pulling young adepts out from under the Empire's nets, or I might have joined you in presenting your plan to the Council. But you're wrong to say they were doing nothing, even about the crystal situation. We were looking at other sources, like Dantooine, Mygeeto, even here in the Adega System. Serena, Morgan, and I brought crystals back from Dhomanda A'lainn. With a little patience, we could have worked your plan into a larger campaign.

"But you took matters into your own hands. Risked the lives of an Alliance strike team, two knights, and two padawans with no logistical support, no safety net to fall on. Yes, your outcomes were good, and that's a credit to your planning. That doesn't change the fact that you defied the council's authority with a high hand. Even in your day, you'd be brought up on tribunal for that."

He moved to take another sip of his beer, and thought better of it. "But none of this is new ground, Hal. And the fact that we're still talking about it is part of the problem. You took a stand of conscience, I get that. But you still have to bear the consequences. You can't disregard the Council's authority in one breath, then complain you feel disconnected from the Order in the next."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Yes, Hal had partaken of this conversation more than once, with other members of the council, but it had never sank in, before. At least not in this way. Before, he had been told how reckless he was, how he endangered others, and how he deceived. But none of the others had brought up a parallel to how it would have been handled in his day. No one had had spoken of anything other than the now. At last, that stubborn piece clicked into place, and it was a most uncomfortable sensation, indeed.

"It's not..." he started, then sighed. "It's not just that, that makes me feel disconnected. Yeah, I would have been punished in my day, too, but it would have been different because they knew me. I grew up with them, I knew them, knew what I could get away with, and they knew what to expect from me. On the Ilum raid, I... I acted as if things hadn't changed. I didn't want to accept that anything had changed. And maybe I still don't want to. It's just... how am I supposed to handle being alone? How am I supposed to know what is expected of me, anymore? It's so different. It's chaotic, and tumultuous and unpredictable, and I don't know where I stand. I haven't known where I stand since I got thawed out. Everyone I ever knew is dead. Everything I believed in is gone. I don't even have a home to go back to. This Order, whether I agree with it or not, is literally all I have, and I don't understand it."

[Rev Solomon]

"I know," Solomon said, his voice heavy. "I know."

There was no getting around the cruelty in Hal's introduction to a galaxy turned upside-down. To have everything and everyone he knew disappear to the pages of history in the blink of an eye was a savage blow, more than one could absorb in a day, in a week, or possibly in a lifetime. But it was not as wholly unique as he imagined.

"I won't pretend to know exactly what you're feeling," the preacher said. "But the people who can come closest are the Jedi who experienced the fall of the Republic. With one transmission from Chancellor Palpatine, we went from victors in a long and bloody war, to fugitives from the civilization we had fought so hard to defend. Those of us who survived the initial massacre lived to see the Republic freely exchange its liberty for tyranny. Then we were forced into exile and isolation, cut off from everything and everyone we had ever held dear.

"Hal, the injustice you sense now, that unshakable knowledge that the galaxy has gone wrong... we've all felt it. We all dealt with it in our own ways. Most of us had to deal with it alone. I don't want to see you do the same."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Well, it's kind of late for that," Hal's reply came out snippier than he meant it to.

A moment of silence was observed as he took another drink, trying to focus on the harmonious dichotomy of flavors held within the amber liquid, some he was sure he had never tasted before. "But what do we do about it? We've lost half the galaxy, our home, and most of our history, save what we can salvage from here. How do we even move forward? I can't see a way to do that while there is still an Empire out there."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon took a drink of his own, matching Hal's pace. The way this conversation was going, they'd need the whole six-pack.

"'There is a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to destroy and a time to build,'" Solomon replied. "There's an entire generation now that knows nothing but the horrors of civil war, and is only now waking to the possibility of peace. Out of anyone on Ossus, you know the peacetime duties of a Jedi best of all. We may have lost half the galaxy, but the other half needs our protection and our guidance. You should be a part of that."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"...a time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together," Hal recited more of the same passage that Solomon had. "To every thing, there is a season. Perhaps my winter has now passed, and I find myself in spring, whether I like it or not."

The words were quiet, distant as he stared off into nothing. Body still, only the subtle twitch of his tail betrayed life in the Nehantite for some time, until at last he sighed again.

"You say I know peacetime duties. What if I were to tell you that the duties I was often tasked with were far from peaceful? What if I told you that my role was often to take jobs that no other Jedi wanted. Ones that typically called for someone, or someones, death. Oh, sure, it was for the greater good, but I wasn't exactly the diplomat type. Peacetime isn't exactly a word that could be applied to the role I filled, in my Order."

[Rev Solomon]

"The Order has always had those roles," Solomon replied. "We called them Investigators. Men and women who walked close to the darkness, who sought out hidden threats to the peace and security of the Republic. A thankless and often solitary task. That didn't make it any less important."

The preacher considered the Nehantite in the light of this information. "It seems to me like you're accustomed to being isolated from your fellow Jedi. Even in your own time. Is that what you want?"

He asked it plainly, without censure. He didn't mean to lead Hal, or to rebuke him. He simply wanted to know.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal considered the question, as he often had in the past. To those who had known him, it was no secret that he never really got along with the others, and he was always considered on the fringes of their Order. It was a lonely place where he had learned it was better to simply focus on himself and his own development rather than working as part of a larger unit. Doing so had allowed him to learn great and terrible skills, but it also left him feeling empty and left out.

"It's not what I want, but... it's all I really know," Hal answered. "I never fit in. I wasn't ever part of the group, you could say. So, I focused on myself. It isn't that different here, to be honest. You all do your thing, I hang around at the edges, study what I want, and I take my down time as I please."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon nodded. He didn't like it, but he understood. Back then, with the Order in its prime, and thousands of Jedi spread across the galaxy, it might have seemed a small thing to push a handful of misfits to the margins, to fritter them away on inconsequential assignments, or, in Hal's case, to send them to the seamy underside of the mission rota so the masters could keep their hands clean. But there were scarcely two dozen knights now, and most of them either holdovers from the last generation or brand-new promotions from the next. Misfit or no, Halajiin Rabeak was one of the very few experienced knights left under the age of fifty. That made him far too valuable to allow him to waste away on the frontier.

"What about when you were training?" the preacher asked. "You obviously had a master. Did he, or she, ever try to get you more involved with the other Jedi?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The question sent Hal's eyebrows skyward in an expression of dubious recollection. "Ooooh, yes, I had a master. Ha, boy did I ever," he laughed. It was not a laugh of fond memory, but instead full of derision. "Master Trevarius. I was his first pupil, and, as I told Loki, I'm pretty sure they stuck me with him in order to punish him. He was wild, reckless and above all, arrogant. I was the kid nobody wanted. So, while he didn't really want me as his student, and I didn't like him much, either, we were stuck together, and he was determined to show he could turn me around."

A sip of beer gave pause before he continued, "Totally didn't work. We never saw eye to eye, and when he realized that instead of being seen as friends on a learning journey together, we were the laughing stocks, he changed. Honor, discipline, discipline, and more discipline became the flavor of the day, and it didn't work for either of us. He didn't want me to be my best for me, he wanted me to be my best to show me off as his successful project. By the end, we could barely tolerate each other for more than a few minutes at a a time, and we hardly spoke at all once I was knighted. He moved on to a new student, training them to be hard and diligent. Turns out Trevarius taught Loki's master, too, which seems about right. That's what he turned into. So, to answer your question, no, getting involved with other Jedi wasn't really big in his training regimen."

[Rev Solomon]

Again, Solomon listened. From the volume that Hal was pouring out, he hadn't had the benefit of a listening ear in quite some time.

"I'm sorry, Hal," he said at last. "No padawan should be made the puppet of a Council, or a trophy for his master. I know this comes over a century too late, but they did you a grave disservice, and themselves as well."

He shook his head in disbelief. "And in a very real way, Abarai Loki has paid for those mistakes just as you have. Earlier you spoke of him like he's the ideal we're holding up for all the padawans to strive for, but that's not true. Knight Loki was trained with a very militant perspective on Jedi life. Good for survival, perhaps, but woefully inadequate for actually living. We assigned him the initiate lightsaber courses because his form is textbook, yes, but also because we had hoped it would help to soften some of his rough edges. Maybe we're making the same mistake your Council did all those years ago, thinking that students and teachers can just sort each other out. But we haven't given up on Loki. I don't intend to give up on any knight in this Order."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

A lazy smile decorated Hal's pale muzzle, and he stared up at the corner where the ceiling met wall. "Puppet. Trophy," he said. "You really have no idea how accurate those words are, but perhaps not in relation to the Order."

Oh, no. Don't tell him. You're making really good progress, you really shouldn't go there!

I have to. If they want me back, they need to know what I am.

"In my day, children were sent to the Order at a very young age, if they tested positive for Force aptitude. Four, maybe five years old, they came, and they were raised in the Jedi way, not in the way of their own culture. That's how the Order could survive, and keep an understanding across all the races in its fold - you grew up not as one of your own culture, but in the culture of the Jedi. But I was different. Shucks howdy, was I different.

"See, Nehantish never had a Jedi. Ever. Force sensitivity among us is incredibly, incredibly rare, exponentially more rare than in most races. But that didn't stop our Sultan from wanting a Jedi. A Jedi was seen as a great and powerful thing, worthy of the galaxy's respect and admiration. The Sultan thought that if Nehantish could produce a Jedi, we would be held in greater stead with other races. Specifically, he wanted a Nehantite from my kingdom. So, scouts went out, and a few adepts were found. Me, and then a seven year old and two three year olds. I was probably the weakest among them, but the Sultan was impatient, so he told the Jedi I was the only one, and made them take me on. I was fifteen. Really, there was a Munjan girl who was ten who probably would have been amazing, but because she was Munjan, the Sultan made sure no one off the planet ever heard of her. I didn't have the luxury of growing up with training. I didn't have the benefit of learning all about the Jedi from a very young age. I came into the order when most padawans were already very skilled, and I new jack shit. Not only that, I was foreign and weird, to them, so making friends wasn't exactly easy. I had to play catch-up my whole time there."

More beer, more staring at the wall.

"I don't blame Loki for being like he is. He was trained like the others at the Order were, knowing only one way. An outside viewpoint can seem threatening, and wrong. In order to even get through to people like him, you have to beat them and show you possess skills that rival their own. I know the type well. And it's a pity, because he's my only actual friend, here, and he hates me and looks down on me. How sad is that?"

[Rev Solomon]

It was another sad story, but the cluster of impulses and contradictions that made up Halajiin Rabeak was slowly beginning to crystalize. Incongruously, once the Nehantite had finished, Solomon smiled.

"So you consider Loki a friend. Good. He needs those."

Another pull from his bottle, and he was close to hitting the bottom. But there were four more bottles in the carton, and much more to talk about.

"There are enough burdens to go around without forcing yourself to carry other people's misdeeds," he said. "The Sultan was wrong to hide the others from the Jedi. That doesn't mean that you were undeserving. One way or another, the Force has seen fit to preserve you for this time. I know there's nothing easy about finding yourself at the wrong end of history. But maybe the reason you couldn't find your place among the Jedi back then was because you were meant to find it now."

One last sip, and he set his empty bottle aside. "In a lot of ways, you have more in common with our padawans today than you did with your own classmates. Most of our initiates aren't much younger than you were when you arrived at the Temple. Those of us who were born into the old Order - we don't know what it's like to step out of another life and into the robes of a Jedi. We had to learn it the other way around. There were so many questions I didn't even know to ask until I saw how the rest of the galaxy lived. Our students are asking those questions now. We can't afford to be locked into tradition for tradition's sake anymore."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Oh, but if Trevarius could see me now," Hal found himself rumbling with a light chuckle as he said it. "Does this mean I'll be getting a padawan of my own, then?" The height at which one of his eyebrows cocked was enough to suggest that the Nehantite was less than fully serious.

"But, yeah, you're right. These kids came here from full lives. And it's a lot harder to change a page once there's writing on it. That said..." He reached a paw out and across the room a stack of books lifted with ease, the lowest in their part falling away to shoot into his grasp, then the stack gently lowered once more. "The best way to change the direction of a written page is simple. You just have to add more pages."

With that, he smiled, letting the book fall open in his paws, a wave of his hand sending the pages fanning until at last the settled in a gentle spread, his fingers never having touched even one of the fragile leaves of parchment.

[Rev Solomon]

The preacher watched in fascination as Hal manipulated the pages of the book. It wasn't so much the skill involved that interested him as it was the ease with which the mongoose did it, finessing each and every page without even giving it a thought.

"The last chapter hasn't been written for any of us yet," Solomon replied. "Present company included."

He engaged in a somewhat less artful display of telekinesis himself and floated another bottle out of the carton.

"That's a neat trick there, with the pages. Trevarius teach you that?"

The twinkle in the preacher's eye suggested he already knew the answer.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal's beer still had a third of a bottle left, though he was in no hurry to finish it. A brew that good needed to be savored, not swilled. Though, he certainly wasn't going to argue with the master having another. In fact, Hal decided to help.

Smirking, Hal snapped his fingers, and the bottlecap sprung from Solomon's fresh bottle into his paw, which then tossed it aside onto one of the desks. "Trev wasn't all that great at telekenesis, actually. Great on mental stuff, though, and applying the Force to battle tactics. But... calling the holovision remote over to the couch was about the limit of his TK," he explained. "He did, however, constantly hound me to clean my room."

With that, Hal shut his book and set it aside, before lifting his right paw in a fist. All around them, every book, tablet, flimsi, datapad, scroll, and scrap of electronics raised into the air. By rubbing his thumb against his index fingers, Hal proceeded to manipulate what had to be well over a hundred objects, the books whizzing around each other, pads coming together, and everything sorting before he spun his paw around, palm toward Solomon, and popped his paw open. In less time than it took for his fingers to go from balled to extended, everything he had raised shot into place exactly where it was supposed to go, instantly converting the room from a mess, into a perfectly orderly study.

"Some people like to sort alphabetically," he mused, looking unconcerned as he reached for his beer. "I prefer chronological by publication date."

[Rev Solomon]

"Perhaps you missed your calling," Solomon said. "You could hang up your saber and take the post of master librarian."

He took a sip of his freshly opened beer and rolled it thoughtfully across his tongue before he swallowed.

"Have you ever thought about teaching initiates?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Ha," Hal snorted. "Like y'all'd let me." His face rounded out with a skeptical smile. "Besides, it's hard to teach some of the stuff I know, and I don't want to hurt a kid by accident while doing it."

He lifted his beer to finish it off, giving himself time to think. When the empty bottle came to rest on the desk beside his bed, the Nehantite's humor faded. "I dunno. Maybe I could. I've just never really... taught... before. It was made pretty clear to me by the Order I came from that that would never be a role I was going to fill, so I never thought about it."

Running a paw through his headfur, despite its nature to flop right back to where it had just been, he considered the look he was getting from the Jedi preacher. "It's really ramping up, again, isn't it?" Hal asked. "The Order, I mean. We're not on the run, we've got our feet planted, and you lot are finally seeing we what we can be, now, huh?"

[Rev Solomon]

"We've never forgotten," Solomon said. "For all its failings, the Jedi Order was still a powerful force for good, right up until the end. Even during the Clone Wars, one of the darkest periods of our history, Jedi were freeing slaves, curing diseases, saving whole populations from destruction, negotiating peace between neighbors at war. All the evil in the galaxy can't extinguish the good.

"Make no mistake, we're still rebuilding. But so is the rest of the galaxy. It needs more healers and teachers now than warriors. And even though we'll never be past our need for warriors, we need to teach our students to be so much more." He balanced his bottle on one knee again and took another look at the library around them, now impeccably organized. There was a lot of knowledge gathered here.

"If you had a choice, Hal, and could teach our new Order anything you liked, what would it be?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The question caught Hal off guard. Finger toying with the rim of his empty bottle, the Nehantite pondered it, wondering what he could offer that would truly be useful to modern Jedi in such a setting. Biting his lip, he then weighed his skills against those already instructing at the Order.

"You've already got a few excellent saber instructors. I'm rubbish at healing, and... my telepathy sounds like a cheap drive-through speaker, but... I don't think any of you know what I do about telekenesis," he finally replied. Eyes turning back to Solomon, Hal smiled.

"Heh, see, the living Force has been around a lot longer than lightsabers, blasters, or even shell guns or normal swords. The earliest uses of the Force were in limited forms of TK, and if you go back a long, long.... long way, you start to find some research and technique that you never would have heard about, in your instruction. Even at the old Order, it was barely known. I spent a good deal of time looking for aces to put up my sleeve, back in those days, and now, here too." He pointed at the rows of books. "But... what I learned isn't for beginners. Not by a long shot. I'm talking really, really advanced theory, and some of it can be downright dangerous. And... some of it you'd say comes from the Dark Side, though I don't see it that way. But I really don't know how I'd put that in a class. Especially for the younglings and padawans. They'd just get frustrated seeing something impossible for them to do right off the bat."

[Rev Solomon]

"Younglings aren't the only ones who need to learn."

As much time as Hal had spent mining the relics of the Great Jedi Temple, it wasn't surprising he'd come across some forgotten knowledge, especially with his innate talents for telekinesis. Still, Solomon was troubled that Hal had mentioned the Dark Side, even as a point of comparison.

"Why don't you show me what you're talking about?" he said. "My own TK could use a workout."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Sure," Hal shrugged. "Don't really have anything better to do. Already cleaned my room," he chuckled.

Rocking back, Hal then kicked forward to launch himself off of his bed, and dropped his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. "Just gonna need, a couple things."

From his now-sorted shelves, Hal selected a pair of black, military style boots with high laces, a backpack with chest and belt straps, and ring of black cloth that some had seen him use as an eyepatch, in the past. "Okay, well, gonna need an open space, so... I've got a spot about fifteen minutes hike from here that we can use. Follow me."

It was a relatively short walk down a narrow path still being formed through the jungle, until at last they came to a clearing in the trees. Rocky soil, and a few large boulders were the clear reason why larger trees had not overtaken this patch, but scrub brush still popped up where it could cling to life. Hal dumped his stuff by the edge of the clearing, then scampered - even falling to all fours to do so - up onto a flat-topped rock about eight feet above ground level.

"Probably best to stay down there for right now. I'll be able to help you up in a moment so you can try it for yourself, but... Did anyone tell you about the Hellfire Trick that I used on Ilum?" Hal called down.

[Rev Solomon]

"Only in passing," Solomon answered. Which wasn't entirely true, but such feats had a way of growing in the telling, and he wanted to see it for himself on Hal's terms.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

In films, and in great epics, the master of an art would begin by calming themselves, breathing deeply and meditating. Then would come an ancient stance, followed by slow and deliberate hand movements, fingers locked into curious positions as if summoning some spirit, or unlocking a secret known only to the gods. Then they would turn, their stance becoming a spinning kata of intricate movements, each precise, each with meaning, until at last they unleashed the power they supposedly alone possessed.

Hal did none of those things. Instead he stood with his paws in his pockets, tail swaying, and he looked out into the distance beyond. Several seconds passed, a gentle breeze washing over Solomon's back, and the Nehantite's own, the air becoming thin in its wake. At last he pulled his right hand from his pocket, raised it casually in front of his chest, and snapped his fingers. The tiniest spark of electricity popped from his fingers, shooting forward, and for a moment, that seemed to be all there was to it.

Without warning, the sky in front of Halajiin Rabeak exploded with a massive, surging ball of brilliant red and yellow flame, and it shot forward at an alarming rate, growing ever larger as it went. The mushroom burst curled in upon itself, propelling the blast forward ever faster, and ever larger, the heat washing off of it noticeable even as it shot away, before dissipating as if it had hit a wall nearly two hundred feet away from where Hal stood, merely turning into a rising line of smoke which drifted lazily up toward the heavens.

Stuffing his paw back in his pocket, Hall turned back to Solomon and shrugged. "There we go, one quick Hellfire," he announced as if it had been but a simple card trick.

[Rev Solomon]

As Hal prepared, Solomon watched keenly with more than just his eyes. He could sense the leylines of the Force shifting around the Nehantite Jedi and causing a change in the air, a molecular dance he couldn't quite make sense of, except that it left the space in front of him rarefied and volatile. And then came the spark, and the explosion, which rolled forward like an avalanche, gathering both size and speed until it just... stopped.

Well. At least he didn't have to ask how it got its name.

Unbidden, Solomon vaulted up the rocky bluff in two Force-assisted bounds to stand net to the mongoose, his eyes wide.

"Those who study energy manipulation can create fire from the Force," he said. "But this was something different, wasn't it? The air..."

Finding himself out of words, the preacher turned to stare down the path the fireball had taken. Most of the oily, brown smoke was already wisping away on the breeze.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Simple physics," Hal said with a smile. "Locate oxygen and hydrogen in the surrounding atmosphere, and concentrate it in one area. Contain those gasses and compress them with nitrogen, and a barrier of carbon dioxide. Shape your charge path, and supply a spark. Use the nitrogen to shape and push your charge, and stop it with a wall of carbon dioxide. Gasses are easy, very little resistance. Spark though," he laughed. "Static electricity buildup in my pelt, localized and directed. Can also be ignited with a lightsaber, for those without the luxury of fur. The Hellfire Trick. Not recommended to be used indoors, and pretty useless in a windy area, but sure makes your enemies think twice, once they see it."

[Rev Solomon]

"I can imagine," Solomon replied. As a weapon, it lacked serious stopping power against anything but an unarmored target, but it didn't lack for shock and awe. He wondered how much air Hal had drained of hydrogen to put on such a display.

"I've heard of using the Force to manipulate matter at the molecular level, but only by masters of alteration. Where did you learn to do this?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The blast had taken a larger toll on Hal than he let on, his heart hammering in his chest as his body attempted to recover from such exertion. He smiled as if it had been nothing at all, a flick of the wrist, and he prepared himself to move on to his next subject when the Jedi preacher hit him with a question he wasn't expecting.

One ear perking, the other going sideways, Hal's eyebrows followed suit in a curious expression. "Wait... you mean you can't?" he asked. "I thought that's what we were all doing." His pink eyes turned first, then his head as he looked back to where he'd just performed his Hellfire Trick.

[Rev Solomon]

Hal's bewilderment found its perfect mirror in Solomon's face.

"No. No, it's not."

He raised his upturned palm in front of him, and three flattened stones floated up from the ground to settle into a lazy orbit above his hand.

"Most adepts find it more natural to manipulate wholes than parts," he said. "Controlling more than one object at a time is a challenge for most padawans. But you're talking about controlling millions."

He closed his thumb and fingers on one of the three stones, holding it at Hal's eye level. "What do you see when you turn your senses on this?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The Nehantite's eyes focused upon the surface of the stone, while within him another eye studied fully through it. All elements were once nature, and thus, were once part of the Force, in the time before matter. Each element, each atom still, at its heart, held that energy, and through it, Hal could see.

"Sandstone," he stated.

He could see that wasn't enough, so he took a breath, wetting his lips with his tongue before continuing. "Primarily silica, but it contains elements of aluminum oxide, iron, lime, soda, potash and the tiniest traces of magnesia. Structure is fairly uniform, but it's a brittle composition, and will break easily under proper application of either directed force, or lateral torsion."

He paused, then cocked his head like a curious puppy at Sol. "Do you seriously just see a rock? Really?"

[Rev Solomon]

"I see energy bound in material form," Solomon replied. "I see the work of time forming rock from sediments under great pressure, and breaking it down again into smaller pieces. I see something of its structure, and how it will react to forces placed upon it. Everyone sees a little differently, but I've not heard of anyone who sees as you do."

He shook his head in wonder. "You mean this has never come up before?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

An indignant raspberry flapped Hal's lips as he gave a dismissive laugh. "Are you kidding? You've met me, right? When I was being trained, they were just happy I got TK to even work. Nobody asked me how I did it. I just... thought I was doing it the same way as everyone else."

He then paused, a look of realization - and worry - crossed his face. "You guys can see in color, right? Like, different hues, not just varying shades of light vs. dark?"

Days since Hal didn't look like an idiot: 0.

[Rev Solomon]

"Color perception varies from species to species. And there is such a thing as colorblindness. But, yes, humans perceive color."

Perhaps it didn't come as a surprise that Hal's telekinesis training was treated so perfunctorily by the old Order. But it troubled Solomon just the same.

"I imagine it can't have been easy as a novice, if all you could see was constituent molecules. I wonder if Ndonsa..." He trailed off and made a mental note to speak to the Kufu padawan when time permitted. "You have a special talent, Hal. It should be shared."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The yellow-furred Knight pulled a cheek at the mention of Ndonsa in conjunction with his ability. "Er, she's gonna have to take some chemistry and engineering courses, first," he replied. "If I hadn't, I likely would have never stopped blowing things up, at first. Kinda like this."

Turning around, Hal stepped toward the edge of the small bluff, and pointed at a chunk of rock about the size of a small oven. At first, it began to tremble, then shake before it lifted into the air, on a wobbly, tumultuous diagonal to the left. But, as the wobble stopped, and the rock came to rest in levitation, a massive buildup of Force energy could be felt in a swirling maelstrom of chaos around it. "Duck," Hal said.

With only that warning, the chunk of sandstone exploded. Bits of sharpnel flew in every direction, deflected from Hal's general direction, while yet more of the stone burst into silica powder, a spherical, expanding cloud at the heart of where the explosion had been, trails of dust hanging on the air where they had followed projectile pieces. And then it all fell to earth, the cloud of dust gently dissipating.

"That's what happens if you don't know what you're focusing on," he announced.

[Rev Solomon]

A few shards of ejecta that had been bound for Solomon skipped upward off an invisible shield and over his head into the foliage behind him. Still, that had been a lot of power.

The preacher slowly lowered his hand once he was sure there wouldn't be any more exploding rocks. "I've seen similar results from unfocused telekinesis," he said. "But usually not that dramatic. You must have been the terror of your novice classes."

In light of Hal's revelations, Solomon realized a moment too late he might have just prodded at an old wound. Now that they'd made a connection, the last thing he wanted to do now was to push the Nehantite away again.

"Hal, there's no doubt in my mind that you have a lot to offer our Order. If you feel like that ship has sailed, then I'll wish you the best in finding a path of your own. But if you still want to be a part of the Jedi Order, as it exists today, then I want you to know you have my support. As a member of the Council, and hopefully as a friend."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal brushed dust and a few pebbles off of his arms and torso. "Ha ha, actually I had to practice in the sub-basement, so I wouldn't blow out any more windows," he answered.

Then came the invitation, and a pause in the Nehantite's response.

This is what we wanted, isn't it?

Yeah, I think so. But... what will that mean? People are going to, like... look up to us, now. Are we ready for that?

Will we know if we don't try? I'm... I'm game if you are.

...I'll try. I hope we don't mess this up.

"I'd... I'd like that," he answered at last. "Does this mean I'm getting a padawan?"

[Rev Solomon]

"Probably not right off the bat," Solomon replied with a smile of apology. "You're going to need to demonstrate that you can abide by the Council's authority before we place a padawan learner under yours. I'd also like to see your teaching style - perhaps you could assist in some of our initiate classes, something a little more basic than molecular telekinesis. I'm not interested in trying to mold you into something you're not, Hal, I just want to be sure we're on the same page, so to speak. And if you want to have a padawan of your own, I want to make sure your hands are free to teach as you alone can teach."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"I... think I can do that," Hal nodded. His face warmed with a sheepish smile. "I've never actually taught, before. Well, other than undercover technique, but, I think what I know about that is a bit beyond rusty, in this time. Though, just to be sure, I probably shouldn't teach stuff like Force-augmented projectiles to beginner classes, right? I've learned some pretty cool stuff from the Ysanna, about that. Way better at it now than I used to be."

He could see the look he was getting, and Hal couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics." Reaching out with a paw, he called his boots over from where they lay, and he quickly tugged them on, making short work of the laces.

"Walk you back?" he asked, stepping off the edge of the bluff, and just standing there in midair. "Still got some more beer left, after all."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon laughed. "I've got a Council session this evening, so I'd better watch how much I indulge, but one more won't kill me. Promise me you won't make anything explode, and I'll even teach you an advanced Jedi technique of my own - how to remove heat from a glass bottle."

He clapped Hal on the back and turned down the path toward his humble abode. Perhaps the Nehantite wasn't fully back in the fold, but it had been an important first step.