Dear diary,

Why would I write that? I don’t address things to inanimate objects, and my eyes are the only ones which will see this, in any case. I suppose I should simply start from the beginning - at least the beginning of this account, for the sake of my own memory and to record the truth should I never escape this place alive. This is a dangerous record to keep, as should it be found before I make my escape, surely I will be killed without hesitation. But I knew that, already.

Phindar was a mess, and a bloody one, at that. I killed two men, two men simply doing their duty and following orders. They likely had family to support, and I suppose they were good at what they did, as they were on speeder bikes, and you certainly don’t get to that level of freedom without showing your responsibility. Still, that did not stop me from breaking one’s neck, and cutting another in half. I wish there had been another way. I wish so many things were different, but wishes never did anyone any good. Especially me.

That was not the only blood spilled on Phindar. A man I scarcely knew attempted to defend me, and he was shot down for it. I swore no others would die, that day, and to my own failure, I held fast to that oath. Perhaps on a civilized planet I could have made my escape, but against such numbers on a forested, simple world? I knew I stood little chance, and so I surrendered, which brings me to my current predicament, hiding in plain sight, using only a false identity as camouflage to keep the truth from being known.

But would they even believe the truth, if they knew it? I know it, I lived it, and yet even I scarecely believe it. Frozen for one hundred and seven years; enough time for everyone you ever knew to die, and for the galaxy to change in ways wholly unimaginable. That sort of thing only happens in holovision shows, or in comic books. It certainly wasn’t the comic book I’d have chosen, if I’d been given the choice. No, I’d have picked the Scintillating Scorpion-Man, to be honest, but I suppose the subject of a comic never gets to pick which one they star in, and should simply be happy that someone has bothered to write about them at all. Not that anyone really wrote about me.

In the records I could salvage on Ossus, I learned there was only a basic profile on myself, and that I’m still listed as missing, presumed dead. That’s it. Nothing about my smile, my insubordination, my dance moves, my undercover work, nothing. To have your whole life reduced to less than a paragraph leaves one less than thrilled with the memory of one’s friends.

My memory is fresh, though. I remember them all, and now, trapped within the very halls of the place I once called home, their faces appear to me, their voices find passage in faint echoes as I look upon a life so long past.

I know now that I spent five days aboard that Imperial ship in transit, here, and I’ve spent almost a week under lock and key in what once was the Jedi Temple. So much has changed, and yet so much more remains the same. All the passages I know to be shortcuts remain, but I dare not use them. The great library still stands, but I dare not ask to visit it. I cannot give them any clue that I am so intimately familiar with this place, when they believe me to be a rank newcomer to its halls. It is harder now than it was my first few days in this place, so long ago, and that was no pleasantry, either.

I was just turned fifteen, then, and had I just studied harder, and focused on my school work instead of on the girls, I would have tested into technical high school, and I would have never come to Coruscant. But I didn’t. I failed, badly, and my father was so disappointed in me. I remember lying awake in bed, that night, hearing my mother and father arguing from the other side of the wall. I was a failure, a layabout and a dreamer, three things which would never amount to anything for anyone of my class. Oh, how they shouted. I was an embarrassment to my whole family, and that night I could not sleep, so I packed my bags.

Some months before, I’d been tested and found to be off the scale in something or another, and was banned from fencing classes, or any sports, because it was said I had an unfair advantage. A Jedi came to my city, and met with me, and said I was attuned to the Force, but I knew little of what that meant, other than what I’d seen in sensantionalized holovision accounts. I had been invited to join the Jedi, and my Sultan had been absolutely for it, but at the time I said no.

The morning after I’d failed my tests, I said goodbye to my parents, and my brothers, and boarded a ship bound for Coruscant. Aside from a school camping trip, I’d never been on a journey of any real sort on my own, before, and even that didn’t count. Despite my trip being paid for by the royal court, it was not the easiest or fastest, and it took nearly two weeks to reach Coruscant, by which point I’d made it with three girls of alien races. I can’t remember any of their names.

Coruscant, though, it was like something out of a dream. The largest city I’d ever seen was the capital of Nehantish, but compared to the glittering ball of lights, gleaming transparisteel chrome, my home seemed an insignificant speck. Coruscant was overwhelming at first, and I stepped off of my transport among a group of younger children, most of whom had traveled with a parent from their own respective worlds, and I had never felt more alone.

I was alien, not only in race, but in culture, and in turn Coruscant was alien to me. I was the first Nehantite to ever be sent to join the Jedi Order in all of history. Me, the very first ever of my race, to join such an ancient, illustrious Order. Me, the kid who failed the entrance exam to technical high school.

I watched as the other children, mostly under the age of seven, were ushered into the massive temple, while I simply stood there, alone on that landing platform, my bag over my shoulder. The Jedi didn’t even realize I was supposed to be an initiate, they thought I’d gotten off on the wrong stop. Left alone on that platform, I waited and watched my transport ship disembark, and I gazed over the glittering towers, and the lines of traffic as they crisscrossed the skies. I was to be the first Nehantite Jedi, and I had no idea what I was doing, or supposed to do.

So, when it was clear no one was going to come get me, I took a deep breath and walked through the doors on my own. The same awe which filled me then filled me again as I was walked through them, now, though this time I was not some fresh-faced teenager with wonder awaiting him, but a prisoner bound and marched at gunpoint into a familiar, yet foreign captivity.

The paint scheme had changed, as had the uniforms I saw, but overall, little else seemed different. The ceilings still soared overhead, the architecture remained mostly untouched, and the turbolifts still had that rhaspy little whine before disembarking either up or down. The food is likely the biggest thing which has changed. Meal cubes. Ugh. Getting really sick of meal cubes.

As far as my captors go, I have to thank my master for having trained me well in the art of deception, misdirection, and partial truths. I have been hiding under the name of an old schoolmate whom I despised - Kyle Rayner. I’ve convinced them that I have been wandering for some time, now, with only partial training from a Jedi who himself was on the run. Knowing Midlothian bureaucracy, it should take no less than a year for them to be able to officially see through my disguise, but paperwork is the least likely factor for me to be discovered.

No, these Imperials are smart, as they should be, and keep me under constant surveillance. I have to pay careful attention to my role as the cheerful fool, I have to make the right sort of mistakes for a newcomer, I have to take the occasional wrong turn, or get off on the wrong floor - they all look alike, don’t they? I am confined to the temple, yes, and for most of the time confined to my room, but they have allowed me some small measure of freedom at times, likely to see what I will do.

But how could they guess who I really am? How could they know what I know of this place, and of them? Even in my own day, many Jedi did not know some of the things I know of the Force, and that is what I must keep hidden most of all. I have to stare out the windows in awe at the view I am granted. I have to oversleep occasionally and miss breakfast. I have to repeatedly ask for fur and body wash because the bar of soap just doesn’t cut it when you have a coat of fur. And, I have to make sure to give myself a good scratch when I need it, or take care of… other urges… when I pretend to think I am truly alone. I will provide them with distractions so ordinary they will be puzzled by them, and be prevented from seeking deeper, for now.

I’m told I am to be made a Cadet in these new Imperial Knights. I have a chance to start anew, and a chance to be the proper, attentive student that I certainly wasn’t in my youth. While I am no fan of the Empire, or how the Imperial Knights are used, perhaps I will be able to make some good come of this.

And maybe, just maybe I’ll figure out how Bastian Cain also survived this time, and why he does not know me, or at least pretends not to know me. I remember him from my days in the old Order; surely this cannot be coincidence. I must attempt to get with him in private, and determine what he truly knows, without giving myself away in the process. That, and, well, he’s always been a hottie, and if I can get him alone, well… might not be such a bad thing. Be a nice warm-up until I can get that Selonian back to my quarters, or me to hers...

But those are thoughts for another time. For now, I need sleep. I'm told my training will begin, tomorrow.