Homecoming

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The lights. The lights overhead in Halajiin Rabeak's small, solitary cell had never once gone out, never once left him in darkness. Passage of time was impossible to know, as a side effect, as was the stinging burn at the back of his eyes - particularly the Nehantite's left one. Sleep came when he was tired. Food seemed to come at random, and for what felt like weeks, he was left alone in his little cell, no need to be let out, thanks to the cell's built in refresher, and the sonic shower which seemed to go off whenever it liked.

Yes, they questioned him, interrogated him and threatened him, but through it all, Hal stuck to his story. He was Kyle Rayner, a Force adept who had been taken under the wing of a Jedi on the run, and taught a few things before his master was killed. From then, he'd been alone, sneaking from place to place, trying to find out where the rest of the Jedi were, so that he could continue training. But, his attempt to cross over into Alliance space had been thwarted over Phindar, and as a result, he now sat in his cell, in loaned clothing and his original boots, as nothing else was available aboard ship to fit his unique footpaw shape and size.

When the door to his cell slid open once more, Hal was found lying on the slab which served as his bench and bed combined, a paw over the left side of his face to keep the light out of his eye, even when closed. Carbonite damage, he guessed it was, leaving him far more sensitive to light in that eye. It was such damage that kept him from being re-frozen for transport to... wherever it was he was headed.

"Get up, put your hands out," instructed a trooper in the doorway, while two more trained blasters upon Hal.

His chest rising and falling with a sigh, Hal grumbled and rolled out of bed, pausing to stretch before extending his paws. A heavy set of binders were locked firmly in place, a high whine accompanying blinking lights to signify that they had been armed with a heavy stun setting, just in case.

"Out of the cell, you're being transferred," the trooper said.

Hal nodded, lowering his bound arms, and he followed instruction wordlessly. They could be taking him anywhere. Another cell, back to Rossos, to some prison planet, to a firing squad, to an ice cream parlor, the options were limitless. However, the last option did seem notably less plausible, the more he thought about it.

Though twisting hallways, and up and down lifts, he was led, then finally through an umbilical link to a smaller ship, where he was locked into a seat for a short, and violent descent onto what must be a planet below. Despite the advances in artificial gravity, there was no mistaking the sensation of gravitational shift between artificial and planetside forces. Down they went, the pull growing stronger, and he knew it had to be a large planet, even if he no viewports or screens to see out of. As blasters were readied, he knew he was getting close to whatever fresh hell the Empire had devised for him.

The ship came to a stop, landing instead of hovering, and Hal was released from his lockdown only to be marched toward the doors. When at last sunlight poured over his face, the yellow-furred Nehantite gasped, nearly tripping as he looked about at his surroundings.

He was on Coruscant, and before him towered what once was the great temple of the Jedi Order.

"Holy shit..." he managed, eyes wide as he took in his surroundings, almost in fear of how massive everything was - more so than he remembered.

[Baastian Cain]

"Sir Cain? The prisoner from Phindar is arriving in five minutes."

Baastian Cain looked up from the holographic display hovering over his office desk - a training rota for the new recruits into the Order, a brief for the next publicity campaign COMPNOR wanted to run, and, buried a few layers deep among the projected files, a dossier on the outer rim world known as Nehantish, its people, and its customs. A curious world, discovered relatively late in the history of the Republic, with little in the way of real anthropological scholarship aside from a rough translation of some strangely colorful myths. It hadn't been the sociopolitical brief he'd been looking for, but he hadn't minded. You could learn a lot about a people from the heroes they chose to celebrate.

With a sweep of his hand he dismissed the whole readout to reveal his attache, Lieutenant Tantaleeta Chell, standing timidly before his desk with her hands clasped at her back. She was Wroonian, a near-human with pale blue skin, golden eyes, and candyfloss pink hair. When Baastian had tapped her for his personal assistant, passing over the sons and daughters of several high-ranking officials in the candidacy pool, a few bitter individuals had intemperately suggested that the Imperial Knights' poster boy had an unhealthy appetite for pastels. But Baastian ignored them. Miss Chell's work as an analyst in the Imperial Archives spoke for itself - she remembered everything she read, had a preternatural talent for organizing information, and learned languages like a protocol droid. As far as he was concerned, she'd already proven herself indispensable. His only real complaint was that she never seemed to relax around him. Whether that was a product of his celebrity or simply because she was used to being ignored by her superiors, he hadn't yet determined.

She swallowed and asked, "Shall I have him brought up to you, sir?"

Baastian rose from his seat and tugged the hem of his duty jacket, the same austere black as Lieutenant Chell's, but trimmed with silver shoulder panels and braids to signify his status as a Knight of the Imperial Throne. "No, thank you, Lieutenant, I'd like to greet him personally," he said. "And I'd like you to come along."

"Me, sir?" Lieutenant Chell stammered. "I mean, yes, sir. Of course, sir."

The young Wroonian woman fell into step beside her superior, taking three steps to his two in order to keep up with his long and powerful stride. "You did an excellent job on the Nehantite brief, Lieutenant," Baastian said. "That information is going to be invaluable as we process this prisoner."

Chell seemed startled at the compliment. "I'm sorry the dossier wasn't more complete, sir," she said immediately, voice stiff with apology. "It was...not up to my usual standard. I hope the information will prove useful to you despite this."

"There's nothing to apologize for. Given the limited contact we've had with their species, it's more information than I expected." Baastian led them into a turbolift, and a clipped command sent them hurtling downward toward the Citadel's enormous landing platform. In such close quarters it was difficult to ignore his attache's discomfort, so rigid she looked liable to snap.

"Have you ever met a Jedi before, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Chell blinked once in the muted mechanical din of the turbolift and glanced quickly up at him, her facade cracking for just a half-second as she seemed to be gauging whether he was serious. She recovered just as fast, because he certainly was serious, and replied, "No, sir, I haven't."

"This'll be my second," Baastian replied. "For all we've studied them, for as long as we've hunted them, we barely know anything about them - as they are now, anyway. We're a long way from the Old Republic. They've had to adapt to their circumstances, just as we've adapted to ours."

The doors hissed open and deposited them on a broad concourse that wound past several landing bays. Foot traffic around them multiplied - pilots, flight crews, a column of COMPNOR officers and agents, all of them moving with purpose. Most of them altered their paths around Baastian and his Wroonian attache, like asteroids clearing before a orbiting planet. Baastian returned their salutes as he passed by.

"I need you to keep your eyes and ears open. We haven't yet been able to confirm our guest's story, and the Knight-General believes he hasn't been entirely honest with us about where he comes from. If there is something he's hiding, we're going to find it."

They passed through one of long row of sliding doors and struck out across an open-air tarmac. At the far end lay a pad holding a freshly-landed Lambda shuttle and a formation of Stormtroopers surrounding a bewildered-looking figure in disheveled clothes and a set of stuncuffs. Baastian quickened his pace, allowing Lieutenant Chell to settle behind him, and met the squadron sergeant at the head of the formation. He signed his name to the transfer bill on the sergeant's datapad and then stepped in front of the squinting, yellow-furred mongoose.

"Kyle Rayner, I presume," he said. "Welcome to Imperial Centre."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"It's so big..." were the words which fell out of Hal's mouth as he stared up at the spires above. Truly he had forgotten the immense scale of the Jedi Temple, having been away from it so long. Only the Whaladon could be considered as a massive structure on Ossus, and it paled by comparison to the ancient home of the Jedi on Coruscant.

Hey, pretty-boy here is talking to you. Hal's higher reasoning reminded him.

Mmm, and he is a pretty one, isn't he? His base natures chimed in.

Do you really want to get thrown back in a cell? Keep your mind out of the gutter, we've got to stay sharp, here!

The Nehantite's head shook as he snapped out of his daze of awe - both at the 'Imperial Center,' and at the blonde Imperial before him - and regarded Cain with a stoic, semi-squinting stare. It didn't last more than a few milliseconds before Hal's right eye went wide, gawking at the man in uniform.

Mouth falling open, he blurted, "Do... do I know you? You look really familiar!"

Who is this guy? I know this face. I *KNOW* this face!

Searching, searching... but you're right, this resemblance is uncannily familiar.

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian regarded the fur-covered sentient with a mixture of curiosity and pity. Behind him, Lieutenant Chell did a passable imitation of a kybuck in headlights.

"I get that a lot," the Knight said. "My name is Baastian Cain. I am a Knight of the Order of the Imperial Throne. Behind us is the Imperial Citadel. It used to be the Jedi Temple. We've made it our home now."

He turned and handed the datapad back to the squadron sergeant. "You've had a long trip, Mr. Rayner. Do you need anything? Food? Water?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Both would be great," Hal nodded. His eyes drifted back up toward the Citadel, squinting once more in the sunlight, looking upon it with wonder. "So... there really was a Jedi Temple..." he muttered, a smile working up his face.

Transfer completed, Hal found himself marched forward, falling into step beside the Imperial Knight. Something bothered him in the back of his brain, and his base natures could feel his higher functions rooting around through filing cabinets of old memories, and digging through stacks of names and places bound up in magazine form with lots of glossy pages and semi-professional mental photographs. Baastian Cain. More than the face was familiar, he knew the name, too, somehow. But from where? Allowing his mind to continue its search, Hal's body proceeded on auto-pilot, as did his mouth.

"My old master talked about this place. Said he'd seen it, once, though he'd never actually been inside," the Nehantite rambled. "I saw a holopicture of it, but... I didn't think it was this big!" His eyes turned up to look upon all the sky traffic, and as he was led to a set of doors, Hal spun while walking to take in the sights of the massive city-planet that was Coruscant. "Is this where I'm going to be held, now? I really hope I get an actual bed. That slab was killing my back. Will my room have a window?"

[Baastian Cain]

"I don't have the final say on your accommodations," Baastian replied, "but if you remain cooperative, I'll be sure to put in a good word for you." He reached back to guide the moonstruck mongoose safely through the doors and onto the concourse that ran the perimeter of the landing level. Back on the platform, the stormtroopers silently filed back onto the shuttle, which lifted off into the sky to return to the Arbalest in orbit. He also met the still-wide eyes of Lieutenant Chell and gave her a nod of encouragement.

"I understand you led two of my colleagues on a real mynock chase on Phindar. Your master must have taught you well. It's a pity he's not still with us. I've always wanted to talk to a member of the old Jedi Order."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The shift in the Nehantite's demeanor from pepperbox of questions to reserved melancholy was palpable through the Force, and easy enough to read upon his body as well. Ears and tail drooping, his muzzle also canted down just a tad, eyes finding the floor more interesting than he had before.

"Me, too," he muttered. "Master Sur... wasn't actually a formal Jedi, either. He got his training fom a Jedi who had fled, and he passed on what he knew, to me. Well, what I could grasp of it, at least. And, you'd be surprised how resourceful anyone can be when they're running for their life."

Suddenly his ears perked back up, and the tip of his tail lashed, a brightness flashing in his pink eyes. "Oh! Wait, is the big Selonian woman one of your colleagues?" he asked. "Do you know if she's, uh... seeing anyone?"

[Baastian Cain]

That raised Baastian's eyebrows. "Vissica? Well, no, I don't think so."

It wasn't that the question had never occurred to him, rather that the very essence of Knight Vissica had already answered it with all her customary unambiguity. Mr. Rayner might as well have asked about the eligibility of a rancor. He'd probably get just as far either way.

"I, uh, wouldn't get my hopes up, though," Baastian added, strangely compelled to try to let him down gently. "Selonians generally aren't, well, the relational type. Oh, here's the canteen."

If it would change the subject, he'd gladly pretend the commissary had sneaked up on him, as if they weren't placed at regular intervals around the concourse. It wasn't much to speak of - just a single cafeteria line dispensing meal cubes and an assortment of sauces. Looked like the flavor of the day was nerf stroganoff. Once he'd shuttled the prisoner through the line and settled him down at a nearby table, Baastian took his own seat, with Chell beside him.

"It's going to be hard to eat with those binders," he said, and with a wave of his hand, the shackles holding the Nehantite's wrists together came apart. The bracelets remained - another command would bind them together again, or knock him flat with a paralyzing shock, but at least for the present he had the use of his hands.

"You'll have to pardon my manners, Mr. Rayner. This is my attache, Lieutenant Tantaleeta Chell. She's told me a fair bit about your species, but there's a lot we don't know. Which kingdom do you come from?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal's eyes roamed every inch of the Citadel's interior. So much had changed, and yet, beneath it all he could still see the Temple he once knew, and feelings of home returned to him - feelings he had not known since his first thaw. Only the reminder of food snapped him out of his daze, having missed his warden's reply regarding Vissica.

Nerf strognaoff. The smells were heavenly, throwing his mind back to days long past, and he gladly took up his fork, stirring the mess upon his plate before his attention was brought back up. "Oh, hi, Miss Chell. Nice to meet you," he said with a smile, passing his fork into his left paw to extend his right for a shake. Despite the heavy Imperial presence in the Citadel, and his recent treatment and cuffs, Hal appeared very much at ease in his setting, almost like a tourist. "I'm from Midloth, originally. But we moved to Nehantish when I was twelve because my dad got a job there."

That said, there could be no further postponement of his loaded fork. A large mouthful was lifted from his plate and shoveled into his open maw to be greeted by slowly lidding eyes and a moan of delight as he slowly pulled the gleaming, clean fork from his lips. "Mmmf, Garfife, I haven't had that in sooooo long," he sighed after swallowing, then quickly began to load up more.

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian paused to let Mr. Rayner take the edge off his appetite, then offered him a napkin when he came up for air. He'd rarely seen a man attack a plate of meal cubes with such gusto - either the artificial flavoring was up to Nehantite tastes, or Kyle was hungry enough that it didn't matter.

"I understand Force adepts are very rare among your people," he said. "When did you discover your own abilities?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal spoke between mouthfuls as he quickly cleaned his plate. Synthetic or not, the flavor was a cheap, terrible, secret pleasure to him, and he would not let any of his meal go to waste.

"Sorta figured it out when I was fourteen. I was faster than the other boys, and I could often guess what they were going to do next, in sports," he replied. His fork scraped up more sauce from the plate. "But, I didn't know why that was. I just thought I was a little special, but nothing more. It wasn't until I met Master Sur that it was really figured out. I guess he could tell from the moment he met me. Were it not for him, I'd probably be back in Midloth, right now, working on engines or something."

There was temptation to literally lick his plate clean, but by sheer force of will, he held off. Acting a bit of a fool was fine, and part of the persona he'd been developing and honing while trapped in his little cell, but too much would be a red flag, and surely get him caught.

[Baastian Cain]

"Midloth or Nehantish?" Lieutenant Chell suddenly interjected. When the table's attention shifted her way, she shifted in her seat and turned a slightly deeper share of blue. "Sorry - you said you had moved to Nehantish when you were twelve."

Baastian monitored the exchange with interest. He'd have let the slip go, as it was simple enough to explain away, and she might have simply put Kyle on guard just when he was beginning to relax. On the other hand, the more details he gave, the more opportunities they had to catch him in a lie. You could never predict which loose thread would cause the whole artifice to unravel.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Midloth," Hal stated flatly. "We moved to Nehantish because my dad's work moved him there. Hated it. Place is a sandy shithole. Give me grass and trees over dust and dunes any day."

Rolling his eyes, he then looked back to his empty plate. Seconds were likely out of the question for two reasons: First, it would be odd to give a prisoner two portions, and second, his stomach would likely revolt if it were forced to take more of that so-called food.

"So... now that I'm here, what's to be done with me? Kind of doubting it's the firing squad, as that could have easily been done on whatever ship that was I was on," he said, leaning back into his seat. "If you're planning to run tests, I can make it easier: Yes, we can have chocolate. No, we don't only eat snakes. Yes, our eyes change color. Yes, we have a mating season. Yes, we can control our tails. No, I'm not on CC30. And, yes, I would like to take you to dinner, Miss Chell, but I don't have the money to do so, nor likely the freedom. More's the pity."

[Baastian Cain]

"Well, I guess that answers a few more questions," baastian said. Beside him, Chell hid her eyes and shifted a few more pantone chips. The Knight simply folded his black-gloved hands on the table and looked Rayner square in the color-changing eyes.

"To be honest, I'm trying to understand you a little better. I thought maybe I'd put you at ease in the process. If you want to talk business, we're going to have to move somewhere a little more discrete."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The Nehantite shrugged, looking about at his surroundings. "Put me at ease, huh?" he replied. Paws coming to rest one over the other on the table top, he leaned forward on his elbows to look straight back into Baastian's eyes.

"Imperial forces hunt attack the ship I got passage on. When I tried to make a stand, I got hunted down like an animal. I'm pretty sure that carbon freezing is against the law, to do to a prisoner, but that happened, anyway. Then I get thawed out, asked a whole bunch of questions, and thrown into a cell for who knows how long. I don't even know today's date, understand? And now I get marched in here, to a place I've only dreamed of, and find I'm surrounded by Imperial soldiers, and I'm being softly interrogated, and I don't even know what for?"

Hal leaned farther forward, his face turning hard, flecks of red appearing in his eyes. "For what crime am I charged? I can't help that I was born with this... power. I lost the only man who I ever knew who could teach me how to use it, and instead of going the rest of my life half-trained, I figured I'd go to where I've heard others like me still exist. A place where I could get more training. Is that really a crime worthy of these?"

He held up his forearms, brandishing his cuffs benath balled fists.

[Baastian Cain]

"Yes."

It was said without condemnation, without theater. It was said with quiet conviction, as if it were nothing but God's honest truth.

"Mr. Rayner, the pursuit you faced on Phindar was nothing more than our standard response to a rogue Force adept. If you think it was excessive, you can thank your Jedi friends for that. Whatever the Jedi once were... guardians of freedom and justice, beacons of hope and light for the galaxy... they're not that anymore. First they became traitors. Then vagabonds. And now they're nothing but pawns for the rebel government across the border."

Baastian glanced down at the plate in front of the mongoose, empty except for a few smears of blue sauce, and slid it, tray and all, to the edge of the table for a passing droid to collect.

"I'd like to show you a better way," he said. "A way that actually allows people like us to be the guardians we were meant to be. Now, I can put your binders back together, call the guards, and parade you around the Citadel as a prisoner. But I thought it might be more beneficial to treat you as a potential recruit. You're looking for training, and a place to belong. It's possible we could provide that for you."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The red flecks in the Nehantite's eyes faded, and he leaned back into his seat, paws easing down to the table top. For some time he was silent, mulling over the many thoughts in his head, until at last he sighed.

"I'm not trying to be argumentative, here, let me preface this by saying that," he said. Another pause, and the words were collected. "I've only met one Jedi, ever, and he seemed to be a good man. He told me that we should not use our power to better ourselves, but to help others in need, and to right wrongs when we were able. Most of the Jedi religious stuff sort of went over my head, but that was the core of the man I knew. That is my understanding of what a Jedi is supposed to be. I don't know what they are now, or if they've changed, or anything like that, and I certainly wasn't around when they became traitors, nor did I learn about that in school, but what I'm asking is, is that a crime? Is that philosophy, the philosophy of helping others, upholding the law, and combating injustice, something I should be a prisoner for? Because, quite frankly, that's the kind of thing my mom taught me was the right thing to do, so you're going to have to arrest every Midlothian you meet, if that's the case."

He could see Lieutenant Chell ready for a reply, but Hal held up a staying paw. "But, if those are the values your order focuses on, and as long as I don't get called names and treated like an animal, or anything less than a human like yourself, I may be interested in hearing what you have to offer me."

[Baastian Cain]

"That's fair," Baastian replied. "I'm sure your master was a good man. Back when he was training you, the Empire's position on Force adepts wasn't as, well... progressive as it is now. The Knights are doing a lot to change how people look at us. I'd like to think the Jedi of old - the good ones, anyway - would have liked to be a part of it."

He rose from his seat, and Lieutenant Chell mirrored him. "If you're finished, I'd like to show you what the Imperial Knights are all about."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal remained in his seat, eyes flicking back and fort between them, concern written on his face. At last he asked, "You mean... we're not having dessert?"

[Baastian Cain]

Chell's cotton-candy eyebrows crimped together in disbelief. Baastian simply shrugged. "After the tour, perhaps."

The Knight led his curious little entourage from the concourse onto one of the many personnel lifts that followed the sloped outer walls of the Citadel, and sent them hurtling toward the upper levels. Once they cleared the first several stories, the outer wall dissolved into a ribbon of transparisteel, giving them an unhindered view of the glittering cityscape beyond, shimmering stratoscrapers on the horizon, glittering chains of air traffic criscrossing the golden-hued sky. Even for a lifelong resident of Imperial Centre, it was an arresting sight. Baastian watched Rayner's reaction with interest.

"What do you know about the Imperial Knights, Mr. Rayner?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Like a young child drawn to the aquarium in a doctor's office, Halajiin Rabeak seemed magnetically sucked to the transperisteel wall of the lift, paws pressing against it, fingers splayed as he drew his face as close as he could for a better view. Coruscant was more beautiful than he remembered, and he gazed upon its changed skyline as if it was his first time to see the wonderous sight. Speeders rushed about in organized traffic routes, the sun glistened and glinted from countless millions of windows, and buildings rose and fell like sharp, gleaming mountains out through the horizon as the lift drew ever higher. "Wow.." was all he could managed, staring at it, slack-jawed.

Ahem. He asked us a question. Are you going to stare out the window all day? Hal's higher reasoning cleared its throat.

Like you didn't used to get lost staring at all this. It's been ages, let me have my moment! His base natures grumped in return.

Fiiine. You keep staring, I'm going to run the mouth.

His eyes remaining fixed on the endless cityscape before him, Hal shook his head and replied, "Basically only what you've just told me. Well, that and you've got a really sexy Selonian in your ranks, and I think she's still got my lightsaber. I bet this place is even more beautiful at night, what with lights and everything."

[Baastian Cain]

"Oh, it's a beauty, all right," Baastian replied. "Even prettier from orbit, like a big corusca gem. This has been my home all my life. I never get tired of the view."

He passed a few more moments in silence, just to let the panorama sink in.

"There are over one trillion people living in Imperial Centre. And that's just a tiny fraction of the people living under the Empire's protection. Every one of them is expected to do their part to help keep the Empire safe and strong - farmers, engineers, researchers, soldiers. Everyone has a role to play. Whatever talents you have, you have the responsibility to use them for the betterment of those around you. And when everyone does that, everyone thrives."

The Knight stepped toward the transparisteel to stand next to the mongoose, joining him in his contemplation of the sprawling skyline. "We believe the Force is a gift for all people, not just the handful who have the ability to use it. And so we identify people who have that ability. We train them to use it safely and responsibly. And we give them a job that makes use of their unique talents for the benefit of the whole Empire. Thanks to the Jedi, most Imperial citizens view the Force with superstition and fear. The Imperial Knights are trying to change that."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Change it by siccing a massive landing party on a fairly backwards planet, burning their forests, killing citizens as you see fit, just deciding that any furred alien should be executed in the search for one?" Hal's words came dripping with venom as he pulled back from the transparisteel. "You know, because that won't cause superstition or fear..."

His tailtip lashed back and forth, anger seething beneath the surface of his character - anger which should not be found in any Jedi of reputable training. "You seem to know a lot, and there were things my master either didn't know, or wouldn't tell me, so I'm going to ask you: What did the Jedi do to turn on what used to be the Republic? I've never gotten a straight answer on that, and since my world is in Alliance space, I'm pretty sure I've grown up under some propaganda which may or may not be true."

The anger slowly dissipated, but there was no doubting it had been there, and the Nehantite looked back out over the cityscape once more. "I've been searching for answers for so long. I just want to know the truth."

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian let him vent. He couldn't justly blame Kyle for feeling persecuted. He was told to expect monsters, and so he ran, and got the hounds. The Pax Imperium came at a price, and so far the mongoose had seen the cost and none of the reward. He had been, like so many enemies of the Empire, sorely misguided.

"If you knew what people with our power are capable of, unchecked and running rogue, I think you'd understand our methods a little better. Nearly every dark chapter of this galaxy's history started with Force adepts trying to seize power. The Sith Wars. The Freedon Nad uprising. The Krath Holy Crusade. Conflicts that wiped out entire populations. The Jedi came within inches of plunging us right back into those dark times."

He stared out the window at the passing cityscape with a pall of regret crimping his statuesque brow. He'd studied the Great Betrayal in detail. It was a sobering study in corruption and greed.

"During the Clone Wars, the Jedi stopped being peacekeepers and counselors, and became generals. It was expedient, given the scale of the conflict, but their leaders must have liked the taste of power, because on the eve of armistice they mounted an insurrection against the civil government of the Republic. The Council mounted a coup on the Senate, while Jedi generals across the galaxy attempted to seize their Clone divisions as their own personal armies. If not for the heroic actions of Lord Vader, and the unwavering loyalty of our men at arms, we would have been lost, and the galaxy would have crumbled into chaos."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

What a crock of -

Don't say it.

Why not? It's true, Baa-baa-baastian here is talking total bol-

You you want to get us demonetized?

...what?

Demonetized. If you mention politics, say bad words, talk about war or violence, or sensitive subjects, we'll get this thread demonetized and we won't make any money off of it.

Um, dude, we're not a HoloTube channel. This is RP.

Really? Then why do we ask people to like and subscribe at the end of each post?

We don't.

Huh. Wonder where I got that impression from.

I have no idea. Can I get back to the story, now?

Oh, sure. Sorry.

What a crock of shit, Hal thought as he listened to the pure propaganda that flowed from Baastian's mouth like a whole Pot Noodle being ejected after a ninth beer. The Jedi were the ones who were betrayed, by the very man the Empire called a hero. A hero who murdered innocent children. The Nehantite's face could not hide the conflicting thoughts running through his head, and he bit his lip, pondering over the new information.

At last, he ran his fingers through his headfur and looked out at the city beyond, lest his words come out too sharp and cut Baastian's sensibilities. "What if not all of the Jedi were in on this plot, this... coup? I was told I should help, that I should protect and be selfless in my actions. The man who taught me this seemed to truly believe that at heart. What if my master did not follow the other Jedi into darkness? If he didn't, and he taught me only what's good about being a Jedi, and not to hunger for power, then the Empire should welcome me instead of hunt me, right? I don't want to command armies. I don't want to hurt people. A man died on Pallaxides because of me, Baastian. It still weighs on me."

[Baastian Cain]

"I know it does. It should."

Baastian turned and looked Hal in the eye. Not with judgment, not with disapproval, but with alarming frankness.

"If you hadn't run from us, that man wouldn't have died. If you hadn't run, we would have welcomed you with open arms, no binders, no troops. I hate that we have to regard every unregistered adept as a potential threat. But that's the galaxy we live in. That's the price of peace."

He lifted a hand onto Hal's shoulder and squeezed. A gundark's paw couldn't have felt heavier.

"I know how you're feeling, Kyle. It's the same way I feel whenever someone dies on my watch. But that's what makes us stronger, more resolute. So next time nobody has to die."

The lift sighed to a halt, and the doors slid open onto another broad concourse - marble floors, vaulted ceilings, bronze statues of abstracted human forms in heroic poses. There was less foot traffic here, most of it in uniform. A pair of teenagers in the white-and-black jumspuit of the Knight-Cadets saw them and halted, eyes wide - a sandy-haired boy and a Zabrak girl with her hair in looped braids. Baastian nodded to them in passing: "Cadet Torus, Cadet Aryx. Good work in your saber trials last night."

"Th-thank you, sir," the Zabrak girl said, flushing. They continued to stare as Baastian Hal and Lieutenant Chell straight ahead, down another corridor that led toward the center of the temple hub.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal could list at least ten ways in which the Empire had not even attempted an "open arms" welcome with him, but it was neither the time nor place. There were so many games to play, so many roles to act as, each of them critical to get right or his facade would surely be blown. The bitter aftertaste of swallowed pride and anger lingered upon his tongue, forcing Hal to bit it on that subject for the time being.

Instead he changed tack, the boom of his approach swinging about to take the wind head-on. "So, what's to become of me, now? Am I still likely to get executed simply for having been born different, do I just wind up a prisoner forever, or am I going to be dressed up on one of those jumpsuits and actually given a chance to do something?"

The gambit was a dangerous one, but studies had shown that when you give two terrible options and one unsavory one, the unsavory option suddenly looked good and seemed more worthwhile. Forcing his way out unarmed would be an impossibility, and execution, well, that would really put a damper on his day, so he fell back on the old "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mentality, hoping it would at least provide enough time for him to plan a proper escape.

Also the jumpsuits looked kinda sexy.

[Baastian Cain]

"That's up to you, really."

The corridor was much narrower than the concourse outside, but the ceiling was just as high, so that they might have been walking down the bottom of a canyon. Immense crimson banners hung over the walls, easily ten meters high, and on the floor beneath them were transparisteel cases displaying artifacts of the past: lightsabers from the old Jedi order, crystals and power cells removed, spanning millennia of history. There was even a protosaber lying across its coiled up cable and hip-mounted power supply, dingy and corroded with age. Baastian paid no attention to the exhibits.

"I'll be honest, you're an unknown quantity. We've never had a recruit with prior training from the Jedi before. That's bound to make some people uncomfortable, considering our history."

They approached a set of doors on the left-hand side, the first doors they had come to after a hundred meters or so, but Baastian bypassed them and ferried Hal and Lieutenant Chell into another lift, this one open with handrails. He palmed a control, and the lift went sailing upward.

"But if you're honest about wanting to make a difference, living up to those ideals your master taught you... we can work with that."

They passed through the ceiling and emerged into a dimly lit room. To the right were several rows of staggered theater seats, all facing the wall to the left, which was one enormous, slanted sheet of transparisteel. It invited the viewer to gaze downward into the vast chamber that had been on the other side of the wall all along: a sparring gymnasium, cavernous and bright, its glossy floor marked out into multiple combat rings. To one side a stern-faced Arkanian instructor paced as a class of cadets twenty strong drilled with practice staves. In another, several pairs of cadets in loose tunics squared off for unarmed combat techniques. And in the center, on a raised platform, two fully fledged Knights sparred with shimmering white blades whose cracking and spalling were audible even here in the observation deck.

Baastian stepped up to the window and turned, beckoning Hal to have a look.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Well, prior training from a Jedi," Hal interjected before they reached the lift, though it made little difference.

His eyes continued to wander over their surroundings, remnants of days gone by still visible beneath the paint and decor changes the Empire had mistakenly thought would improve the old Jedi Temple. Barring the massive, garish red tapestries, one would think that the Emperor had called upon an interior designer who'd accidentally grabbed her greyscale markers instead of the color set, but instead of admitting she'd made a mistake, drew up all the redecoration plans with what she had. It was a theory, anyhow, no less substantiated than some of his other wild thoughts. Hal could not hide his smile as he saw the old collection of lightsabers, nor did he even try, taking delight in the fact that they had been preserved - a clear display that deep down somewhere in the Force-sensitive heart of the empire there was a willingness to retain tradition and respect history.

A quick and silent fart was left on that level before Hal boarded the lift last. He knew with great precision where they were going, though he'd never had the pleasure of the vantage point they stepped out onto. Countless times he had glanced up at that one-way mirrored transparisteel from below, wondering if the Masters were watching as he practiced and exercised. His boots made no sound as they sank into plush carpet descending the steps down to the window, and he cast his eyes upon the scene before him.

"Do you all use white blades?" were the words that fell out of his mouth first. "I thought white was typically avoided because the crystals needed for those can be unstable, and are prone to shattering if their relays aren't perfectly balanced. My saber uses a red one because they're the most forgiving, and the most reliable regardless of circumstance." Silence, and he could feel a pair of eyes boring into him as he watched the duel. "Well, at least that's what I read on the holonet when I was trying to fix it," he added quickly at the end.

[Baastian Cain]

While Hal watched the sparring students below, Baastian watched him. Would he be reduced to wide-eyed wonder, overwhelmed by the spectacle? Would he quail with fear? Burn with ambition? Steel himself for the challenges ahead? In the end his response was a great deal more analytical, and educated, than Baastian would have guessed.

"On the Holonet," he repeated, bemused. "It sounds like your Master Abin Sur taught you well. We use white blades, but our crystals are synthetic. We've greatly improved on the processes the old Sith armies used to use. Ours are just as strong as natural crystals, maybe even stronger, and we can grow them to any specifications we need. Knight Vissica's is the largest I've ever seen."

He almost regretted invoking Vissica's name again, but at least he knew it was a surefire way to drive the mongoose's interest.

"You've obviously learned something of lightsabers. What else have you learned?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal stepped forward, paws pressing against the transparisteel as he watched the pair of Knights locked in combat below. Well, practice, not combat, as neither was moving with the speed or aggression required to truly harm their compatriot, nor did they seem to resonate the type of intensity one would find in a proper fight. Beneath the guise of study, Hal reached out further in the Force, locking onto one of their sabers to reveal what lay with in, and discern the truth of Baastian's words. Everything about the construction was modern, and it was difficult to follow through its construction while the saber was in motion, but at last he pinpointed the crystal and traced its structure. True to what the Knight had said, they were indeed synthetic, their makeup so uniform that they could not have come from nature, and they were indeed strong.

"Synthetic crystals, huh?" the Nehantite chuckled. "Well I'll be, I didn't think anyone was ever able to make those work." With an appreciative nod, Hal subtly disconnected a few crystalline fibers within one of the crystals. It wouldn't fail right away, or possibly even in the next few weeks, but in time, and with stress, it would fail and cast doubt upon the Empire's conceited mastery over the elements themselves, and possibly spark a recall for inspection. Nothing fouled up bureaucracy quite like a recall.

His tail swaying with each advance or retreat of those practicing down below, Hal snapped himself out of his daze and blinked, recalling that Baastian had another question for him. "Oh, uh, I learned how to fight with one," he replied, then scratched the back of his neck as nerves set in. "I, uh, I can move pretty fast. Like, I can run at great speeds for short distances, and if I try really hard I can usually make big jumps. My race seems virtually incapable of telepathy, as it hurts both parties when I try it, so my master had me give up on that one pretty quick. He also stopped me from doing the mind-moving stuff. Like, where you focus on something and try to move it. Things... kinda blow up when I try that, soooo, I stopped doing that." His ears then perked and he smiled. "But I did learn how to focus and detect where people are in a localized area!" His voice was spunky and proud until he realized the next question that would come. "Well, not like, specific people, but just people in general. I can tell that there are people if I close my eyes and focus. Usually. Doesn't always work."

[Baastian Cain]

Baastian nodded in approval. "That's a useful talent. With training, I'm sure we could help you hone your senses, make them more reliable. And if you learned the saber from a Jedi, you might even be able to teach us a few things. When it comes to traditional forms, we've been limited to what we can pull from the archives. Our forms are effective, but they don't have the same tradition behind them."

He crossed his arms, considering Hal carefully. "We might be able to help with telekinesis, too. You're not the first of your kind to be trained by a Jedi. I'm sure I could find some records of your predecessors if I search through the archives... what worked for them might work for you, too."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

At Baastian's initial mention of the archives, Hal's mouth dropped open to say something, then realized his new "mentor" was not done speaking quite yet. Deep down, Hal thanked his lucky stars, charms, garters, rabbit's foot, egg, horseshoe, hula girl, and socks (each possessing their own different, yet effective form of luck) that he remained silent. Nervous shock was covered with short cough which was followed by a clearing of his throat to give himself time to think.

Was Baastian speaking in code? Did he know Hal's true identity, and was subtly trying to tell him? Or was it a mere coincidence which threatened to unravel Hal's cover story upon his first day in the heart of the Empire? Either way it did not bode well, and so he maintained his facade of being an affable nobody.

"There were Nehantite Jedi?" he asked. His brow crimped, ears rotating forward as his head canted to the left in curiosity. "Really? Like... really?" With each question his voice grew higher in disbelief until he shook his head. "I ain't never heard of 'em. Besides, I think it's a bit more of a 'my master sucked at telekinesis and wasn't a good teacher of it' thing than a species thing," Hal dismissed the truth that he knew all too well. "But for lightsaber, I might be able to show you some stuff, though a lot of what I know is actually grounded in Nehantite fencing. It's kinda mandatory at school there for kids, so my master let me start from there before giving me pointers."

His head turned back to the arena below, watching as the duel drew near to its close. "But, give me and an opponent some training sabers, I'd be willing to show you what I've got," he said with a grin. "Live practice is all well and good, but it holds you back at the same time. Practicing with wood or training sabers, you feel the sting when you get hit, and you go after a real win."