Legends of the Jedi: Your Weapon, Your Life/text

The Induction chamber of the Jedi enclave was a great dome with circular walls. Meant to somehow symbolize the harmonous life that Jedi were meant to strive for, it was carved out of stone of various white and gray shades. Two rows of men and women of over a dozen species formed an aisle leading toward the center, each of them robed in gray with their hoods pulled up, shading their faces. As Jedi apprentice Cos Shibatt strode down between them, he caught himself almost wondering whether they were living beings or statues.

His eyes wandered between the two lines as he walked, cloak whipping behind him. He was a thin, pale-skinned Human figure that practically disappeared within his ash-gray garments, and his neatly-parted blond hair seemed almost white from a distance. His steps even and motions simple, he gave an aura of humility appropriate to a man of his position.

The two rows of Jedi curved outward, then joined, forming a semicircle around a great rectangular altar that exuded a thick, icy-blue flame – the Jedi Forge. Cos' heart leaped with anticipation when he looked more closely and perceived a certain object suspended within it. Three Jedi Masters, hooded like the rest, stood before the fire. When Cos stepped just inside the circle, he stopped and bowed his head, as he knew he was supposed to. Two of the Masters stepped closer; the third remained before the Forge.

"Cos Shibatt, apprentice to Master Hanz Greddar," said the Master to his right. His voice, amplified through the Force, bounced from one end of the chamber to the other.

"Yes, Masters," Cos said, restraining himself from shaking with excitement. The Force had never seemed so alive to him before – he felt its power churning and twisting above that altar and spilling outward through the room.

"You have grown stronger in the Force since you were last before us. All gathered here can feel it. As such, we find you worthy to carry the true weapon of a Jedi."

Am I?

Cos blinked. The words had come from nowhere, so forcefully that he almost spoke them, but he swallowed the question and hid it with a slight nod.

The Jedi Master to his left spoke. "Reach out, Cos Shibatt."

Burying his uncertainty, he did. It was just a small tendril of thought, a fragment of his very essence extended toward the sword that lay obscured in the Jedi Forge. The tendril reached the weapon and encircled it, Cos' will entwining itself with the Forge's power. In an instant the fire shrank, almost vanishing outright.

Seconds later another Jedi Master – the third – was standing before him. Cos looked up, and beneath the hood's shadow he perceived the coral-orange face and braintail – wrapped around his shoulder – of Hanz Greddar. With the tiniest smile of congratulation, the Twi'lek said, "My apprentice, I am proud to present you with your weapon. Use it well; with prudence, with wisdom, with deliberation. Use it for good, as is the way of a Jedi." He then raised the sword, sheathed, and offered it to him hilt-first.

Taking a deep breath, Cos took hold of the hilt. It was warm to the touch and astonishingly light, unlike the vibroblades he was used to wielding. Also unlike a vibroblade, this weapon would not be expendable – it would serve him for as long as he lived. It was a part of him, an extension of his will and a symbol of his allegiances and oaths. Fastening it to his belt, he said, "I pledge to, Master, for as long as I draw breath."

Master Greddar backed away, and Cos heard the shrill cry of metal as the entire Jedi procession ritualistically drew their weapons, their blades pointed to the ceiling. Needing to carefully control his every movement, Cos faced the way from which he'd come and drew his sword for the first time. It was a Jedi katana of classic design, with a slender, slightly curved blade and a plain, undecorated black grip. The newly-birthed metal gleamed, reflecting his pride.

As one, the dozens of gathered Jedi made a simple downward flourish. Knowing that it signified the beginning of a new journey, Cos returned the salute.

It wasn't until after Cos had retreated to his quarters following the ceremony and practiced with his new weapon for several hours in private that he was reminded of the doubt in his mind. He stood in the center of his meditation chamber and ran through every sequence of sword moves he had memorized, the flurries and thrusts and combinations. The results were as sobering as the Forging ceremony had been uplifting.

The Jedi katana felt astonishingly different from his vibroblade, even though the two appeared very similar. Forged with precious metals and blessed with arcane Jedi rituals that Cos could hardly begin to understand, it was uncannily light – and therein lay the first problem. He was used to having more weight in his weapon, and while he found himself able to twirl and slash faster than before, the moves were far less precise, and his timing was thrown off in all but the simplest of sequences.

The change in weight was hardly the only effect of the Jedi Forge, however. Whenever it was out of its sheath, Cos felt different, as though a cool breeze was flowing over him. He soon realized that the sensation was that of excess Force energy – the sword practically dripped with it. This was a somewhat more positive change, as he found that he was able to sense its exact location and position without even trying, and he could draw on the excess energy to boost his own reserves – to an extent.

By focusing this energy into the movements of his body, Cos was eventually able to establish better control over his weapon, and his moves regained most of their former precision – but barely half of the speed. He had to put so much concentration into preserving his form that he was unable to do it as fast as he had before with his much heavier vibroblade.

Cos stayed on his feet, repeating and repeating slashes, but no matter how long he persisted, he didn't seem to be making any further progress. Frustration got the better of him when his concentration slipped while in the middle of a sequence, and his Force-enhanced blade sliced a gash in the floor. Despite the horrible squeal it produced, the weapon was marvelously undamaged.

After pulling a training mat across the room to cover up the mistake, he stormed to the center of the chamber, sank to a cross-legged sitting position, and glared at the floor. One hand still clutched the katana, holding it resentfully off to the side.

This would not do at all. This day was supposed to be one of initiation and expansion, the first step into a larger world, and instead it was serving to highlight how deficient he was. He immediately wished that he could go back to his vibroblade, but that was out of the question. Such a move would be considered dishonorable, an admission that he was not nearly as in control of his own power as he had thought – but was that not the truth? Master Greddar had praised his development, and the higher Masters clearly agreed with his assessment, but now that they had actually given him his true weapon, his ability to fight was handicapped. Crippled, even.

His thoughts drifted outward to the rest of the enclave, where a few classes of Jedi initiates were performing evening training exercises. Cos Shibatt realized that those Jedi now outclassed him in both speed and elegance. This was embarassing. What good were his years of training to him now?

The question he had entertained at the Forging ceremony – Am I ready? - seemed to take a life and tangible form of its own. Floating balefully in the air, it circled about him, reminding him how much was at stake. Master Greddar would obviously be expecting even more of him than ever, now that he had this sword. Therefore, he would be thinking that his apprentice was more capable than he actually was. What if they were sent on a mission, and there was an unexpected battle of some kind? He could not possibly rely on his now-degenerated skills in a combat situation. Augmenting his speed with the Force had always been a challenge for him, but this was simply too much.

Idly, he dragged the sword blade back and forth across the floor, making a quiet scraping sound, and decided to uplift himself by focusing on the positive. Whatever the problems with his new weapon, he still had his other skills. In regards to combat, he did have experience; the previous month, he and his Master had been attacked by bandits on the planet Castell, and Cos had killed several of them in self-defense, one of them without his vibroblade. Master Greddar had praised how Cos had avoided succumbing either to anger during the battle or to guilt in the aftermath. Apparently, the incident had been one of the major factors that convinced the Jedi Master of Cos' worthiness.

That thought made Cos feel a bit more at ease. Perhaps, he thought, if his Master thought he was ready, then maybe he actually was – or would be soon, at least.

Besides, there was no guarantee that his life would depend on his skill with the blade, anyway. Though Cos would not slack on practicing with it, he knew that there were many kinds of problems that could not or should not be solved with weapons. For that, he had at least one gift from the Force that had begun to manifest itself early in his training: a knack for precognition, both in and out of exciting situations. At seemingly random times he would feel a sort of mental nudge from the Force that he interpreted as an attempt to turn him in the right direction – whether it was a physical place to go or a certain train of thought. Master Greddar, who never complimented anyone lightly, had said that this intuition was Cos' single greatest strength.

Perhaps, then, that strength would make up for his weakness for the time being.

Perhaps.

Whether he was guided by Force precognition or mere common sense, Cos couldn't say – but nor could he care as he sheathed the katana and readied for bed.

Jedi Master Hanz Greddar supposed that it was the Force's attempt at some sort of a joke that the very next mission he and his apprentice were given had taken them back to the world of Castell. One of the wealthier and more industrialized planets in its sector, it lay along the Perlemian Trade Route and was well on the way to becoming a regional economic powerhouse. Greddar had noticed on his last visit to the planet that the native species, the spindly, saurian Gossam, always seemed to be building onto everything that they already had, expanding orbital docking facilities and stretching the outer boundaries of its cities; cities such as this one, Trepury, which was looking to approach the size of a small country.

The Gossam had a reputation for economic astuteness, and as such, they invited members of other species from across known space to participate in their homeworld's growth, some as businessmen but most as laborers. Species that had accepted en masse included the near-Human Fondorians, the insectoid Doneers, the horned Devaronians, and Humans, whom, Greddar puzzlingly noted, he had encountered on almost every world he traveled to.

This second visit to Castell had to do with the concerns of a speeder manufacturing conglomerate called Mekainure Pioneering. A successful business with factories and storage facilities spread across Trepury's industrial sector, it had been on the receiving end of some troubling offenses, consisting primarily of the sabotage of factory equipment, a bombing at one of their warehouses, and anonymous death threats sent to several corporate officers.

Greddar and Cos stood side-by-side before one of the exits of a public maglev train that would eventually take them to the headquarters of Mekainure Pioneering, where they would speak to company officials and begin their investigation into the saboteur's identity. Or at least Greddar hoped they would, if the train would cease stopping every two minutes to load or unload passengers.

The buildings of Trepury's industrial district were boxy, flat-topped, and painted shades of opaque, unreflective white or gray. Short, stocky apartments for workers sat next to monolithic factory complexes and storehouses, while slender office buildings towered over both. When the train was in motion, all three coalesced into a haze that appeared as a single, titanic complex. In a way, that image served as a fitting metaphor for the Force, in which all things were united.

Cos stared at his reflection in the transparisteel window of the exit, his melancholy gaze framed against the cityscape sweeping past. His sword, sheathed and hooked onto his belt, made him uncomfortable. He was used to more weight being there. Since their departure from the enclave on H'ratth, he had been giving more thought to his predicament, and ultimately decided that it was in his best interest to be open and honest with Master Greddar. Greddar had once said that such qualities were signs of a true Jedi.

"Master," he said finally. "I must confess something."

"Nothing too terrible, I hope."

The small joke put Cos off a bit, and he mentally fumbled for a few seconds. "I, err..."

Greddarr glanced at him. The maglev hummed and rumbled as it sped through the city.

"It's about my sword, Master," Cos said at last. Now that he was trying to actually say the words, they were becoming harder to compose. "I'm just not really sure if, if I'm ready for it."

The Jedi Master's gaze remained on the window, his hands professionally folded behind his back. "I think you are ready."

Finally, thought Cos. Now we can talk about this seriously. "Why do you think that?" he asked.

"You know why. You have passed the tests by completing the swordsmanship classes. You have been deligent in your studies and training. You have upheld the ideals of the Order on our missions. And you have proven that you are capable in battle."

Cos bit his lip as he listened to Greddar list off his qualifications, having expected that to be his Master's first reaction. "I know that, Master. And I'm glad that you believe in me, but there are certain... difficulties with this weapon that I didn't expect to run into."

"Such as?"

Cos briefly outlined what had happened during his solo practice session, describing how the sword's lightness threw off his precision and disrupted his accuracy, and how he was able to salvage the two only by sacrificing his speed, which, by his estimation, was already unimpressive by Jedi standards. He omitted the part where he had sliced into the floor by accident.

"And not only that," he went on, "but a real Jedi weapon is supposed to mean responsibility, isn't it? And prudence? I've seen what Force-imbued weapons can do. They can cause disastrous damage if used carelessly."

Greddar, who had been listening carefully, looked at him him. "Are you saying that you consider yourself careless, then?"

"Well, no."

"Then that part of the argument you make against yourself should henceforth be considered refuted."

The maglev came to a stop, the exit door opened with a piercing hiss, and a party of Devaronians in smoke-stained garb, probably factory workers, stepped aboard. Trading friendly insults and other lively banter, they payed the attendant droid and disappeared into an adjacent car.

As the train began to move again, Cos reconsidered his points. "I really don't think I'm blowing this out of proportion, Master," he said after a moment. "If we got ambushed by bandits again, I don't think I would be able to hold my own like I did the last time we were here. What should I do?"

Greddar brought a hand up to scratch his chin thoughtfully, but said nothing. His yellow eyes narrow to slits that indicated intense concentration, and in the Force, Cos detected a subtle psychic ripple that spread outward from the Jedi Master, as though he was peering into the Force itself for answer.

Greddar tapped his foot several times, as though impatient with himself. Lowering his hand after several more seconds, he said, "You should practice more."

Cos scowled. "Practice more? Master, I can't fight. What if something happens? What if there's a..."

Master Greddar held up one hand, and Cos trailed off. Realizing that he was being disrespectful, he bowed his head and focused on regulating his breathing. Passion, yet serenity, he repeated to himself. ''My passion is to develop as a Jedi. My serenity is necessary for that.''

"Cos," Greddar began. "I understand your concern. A weapon imbued with the Force is no small matter, and it does indeed require great responsibility. However, I think that you are neglecting to consider some things.

"You are comparing your skill with this sword within the first days of owning it to your skill with the vibroblade after years of wielding it. That is your first mistake. Your second is your loose tongue," he added matter-of-factly.

Cos winced and went back to looking out the window.

"Third," Greddar continued, "you forget that Jedi Masters are very strict. We do not give such responsibilities to members lightly. You see, you do not have to be more of a Jedi because you have this weapon; rather, you have this weapon because you are a sufficiently developed Jedi.

"Fourth, and most important, my apprentice, is that being a Jedi is far more than simply carrying a sword, even a special one."

Cos looked at Greddar. "But, 'a Jedi's weapon is inseparably tied to every aspect of his very self.' "

Greddar looked back, his expression harder than before. "You are quoting Grand Master Akasku, but do not fully grasp his words. What he means is that if you are just, then your use of the weapon will be just. But that is the same for any weapon. The true meaning of your Jedi sword is that because it holds more power than an ordinary one, you must simply be prepared to grow and be able to handle that power. Nothing more.

"So we come to a variant of my earlier question: do you consider yourself unable to grow?"

Cos kept his eyes locked on Greddar's for some time, then slowly looked away. "No, Master."

"Then do as I suggested and continue practicing. You will adapt to it, just as you adapted to the vibroblade." Then, at length he added, "I think the root of your problem, Cos, is that you are sending your own army against itself, so to speak."

"Yes, Master," Cos said, and they were quiet for some time after that. The maglev stopped several more times to load or unload passengers, and he soon lost count of the stops. He knew that Master Greddar was right. He had only two problems; one, his difficulty with adjusting to the new weapon, and two, his insistence that there was a much bigger thing wrong with himself that was causing the first.

In reality, all Cos needed to do was work on the first problem, the real one that was right in front of him.

"We should be there soon," Greddar said after a few minutes.

"That's good. But I still say we should have taken a shuttle straight there."

"Be patient, my apprentice. The shortest, easiest way is seldom the best way to reach any destination."

Cos mentally kicked himself. "Sorry, Master."

The maglev thundered past another train on a parallel track. There was an odd prickling sensation in Cos' forehead that told him that now would be a good time to change the topic of conversation. Force precognition was strange like that for him, manifesting itself in even the most mundane of situations.

"So, how do you think we'll be able to track down whoever this criminal is?"

Greddar fished a datapad out of the depths of his robe and began scrolling through the briefing they had been given. "I cannot say," he said. "The corporate officals who requested Jedi intervention said that they believe it is the work of someone inside their organization, and claim to have compiled a list of eight suspects."

"Someone inside," Cos repeated. "A disgruntled employee, then?"

"Perhaps. Their eight suspects, they say, are all on vacations, and their exact whereabouts are unknown."

Cos craned his neck to look at the datapad's screen. In the upper-right corner he saw the company logo, a crested moon with three dots inside it. "So even if we find out who the one – or ones – we're looking for are, there's no guaranteee they're even in the system?"

"Yes, but now is not the time to be drawing conclusions," Greddar said. "For all we know, they might not have any proof that the culprit is one of their own. When we meet with them, we will see whether they have more information that can help us."

Cos nodded. Now that his Master had provided his typically terse but practical wisdom and they had moved back onto the matters of the mission, he felt able to relax. He opened his mind to the Force and let it cleanse him of his lingering doubts.

Master Greddar was still absorbed with the mission briefing when the maglev stopped again, the doors slid open, and Cos heard a brief sort of ringing in his ears. It wasn't until after a lone six-legged Doneer had shuffled aboard that Cos recognized the sensation as his Force precognition, telling him that he was at his destination. Once he'd stepped through the threshhold, however, he realized that Greddar hadn't followed him and turned around. The Jedi Master, apparently still transfixed by the mission data, looked up, and realization hit them both full-force.

"Cos, what are you doing? This is not-"

The end of Greddar's sentence was cut off by the sliding door of the maglev car. Cos lurched toward the glass reflexively, but caught himself before he could step over the yellow painted safety line on the floor. He stared at the window where it reflected his face in order to take in his own expression of idiotic dismay.

The last thing he saw before the car shot off in a blur was Greddar shaking his head. Cos decided to believe that the smirk on his Master's face was a figment of his imagination.

It took him one second to get his comlink out of his pocket; it took him three seconds of declaring his own stupidity to turn it on. "Master," he stammered. "I'm sorry, I, I guess I just-"

"It does not matter, Cos," came the polite reply. "Just meet me at the corporate headquarters. I will wait for you."

"But Master, I don't have Castellian money! How am I supposed to-"

"Trust in the Force, apprentice. Or, perhaps, trust in yourself. You will find a way."

The comlink channel closed. After staring resentfully at the shrinking maglev for a moment, Cos turned and headed onto the streets of Trepury, seeking a way to get his bearings.

In a twist that had to be the Force's way of trying to be funny, Cos' precognition immediately pushed him again, this time in the direction of an apparently random citizen just off the street. Loitering outside what looked to be an apartment complex, he was a thin, pale-skinned Human, smoking a cigarette. Though evidently a man of few words, he was courteous enough to give Cos directions to the Mekainure Pioneering headquarters, which apparently were no more than twenty minutes away on foot.

"Nice tall building," the man said, blowing a whiff of smoke into the breezy air. "The nicest, tallest one, actually. You can't miss it."

Cos thanked him and was on his way. Again he regretted having no local currency, else he would have compensated the fellow for his helpfulness.

The crowd that Cos waded through consisted of a small handful of species, all of which he had seen on the train, but most commonly Humans, Devaronians, and Gossam. Since almost everyone who resided in the industrial district lived within reasonable walking distance of the facilities where they worked, the streets were primarily free of speeder traffic. That suited Cos fine. He wasn't in the mood to be at the mercy of traffic signal patterns. In fact, he would prefer leaping among the rooftops to reach his destination, but that would attract unnecessary attention, and he had gotten in trouble for that in the past.

He wondered if he would get into trouble for today's mistake. More likely, he supposed, Master Greddar would consider the embarrassment to be enough. The most troubling thing about it, however, was the fact that it wasn't just an idiotic mistake – Cos's precognition had led him out of the train at that precise stop. But why would it do so at the wrong one? Was Cos' single greatest Force talent somehow defective?

He winced at the thought before shaking it off and deciding to discuss this with Master Greddar later. To keep his thoughts occupied until he reached his destination, he turned his senses outward with the Force and examined his surroundings. All of the warehouses and factories the he passed had their walls emblazoned with a simple geometric symbols, painted in black and indicating which corporation they belonged to. He saw many of them more than once, including the crested moon emblem of Mekainure Pioneering.

Nearly all of the people on the street were factory workers dressed in drab grays, browns, and teals, their shirts printed with symbols identical to the ones that Cos saw on the industrial buildings. When he tried to listen to the emotional auras around him, he detected the same sort of diversity that he always did while in crowds. Exhaustion, disgruntlement, acceptance, disheartenment, fear, relief, ambition, and more – they all hit him in a jumbled rush that was as turbulent and unfathomable as a planet-sized rainstorm.

Irritated, Cos withdrew his senses, only to be immediately struck by a familiar tingling sensation. It did not feel quite as refined as his usual precognition. Rather, the Force drew his attention to a coiled pocket of emotion a short distance away. It was a very strong emotion.

Malevolent intent. Realizing that he was being warned of danger, Cos immediately stopped and examined his surroundings. He was standing near the building that formed one corner of a cross-intersection. Moving to use the wall as partial concealment, he stretched out with the Force again to determine the origin of the danger. Focusing his senses into a tightened beam of perception, like a telescope, he swept the crowd for anyone who looked suspicious.

He searched without effect for the better part of ten seconds, at which point he pressed his hand against the side of the building, then abruptly jerked away – the permacrete felt hot, as though it was melting. However, close inspection confirmed that not only was the wall undisturbed, and Cos knew immediately that it wasn't ordinary heat, but rather some warning from the Force. But warning of what?

Cos walked to the corner of the building and looked out into the intersection, trying to remain calm. The harmful intent still flickered in the air, but he was no closer to finding who it belonged to. Fear snaked into his lungs and made his breathing labored and heavy. What if the Force was lying to him again, and there was no threat at all? What if he had somehow lost not only his skill with the blade, but his other powers as well?

He pushed that train of thought aside and redoubled his efforts, beginning by sending his stare across the wall to his left. A stone's throw away was an ordinary door leading into the building. Next to it stood a male Human security guard dressed in a pale violet uniform, sharply watching the passers-by. At the opposite corner of the building stood another guard, a Devaronian.

Glancing up, Cos found the symbol of Mekainure Pioneering above the door. That, theoretically, was a good sign – it meant that there was at least a chance that the Force was drawing him to something that was relevant to his mission, rather than cruelly toying with him. However, it was also potentially a bad sign. If the sensation of imminent danger was genuine, then it posed a threat to all of the innocent civilians present. Cos would have to find the source of the threat before it made its move – but how?

The tingling in Cos' body grew more intense, and the malice he sensed in the Force was not only even closer, but also tinged by a sense of desparate urgency. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. He had just taken out his comlink when the door to his left swung open and a black-haired Human, dressed in a factory worker's gray attire, exited. Cos found his gaze drawn to the figure.

The man looked to be the better part of a decade older than Cos and was at least a head taller. His battered, scarred hands and heavy, muscular arms suggested years of hard physical labor, but he seemed unusually clean for a factory worker. His uniform, while not quite brand new, was devoid of grunge, and his face was likewise spotless. He walked at an ordinary pace, but in a somewhat rigid manner, as though he wanted to walk faster but was restraining himself.

Cos noted that the aggressive aura he sensed was now stronger than ever. Close to making his mind up, he raised his comlink and was about to call Master Greddar when he noticed the two security guards trading wary glances. The man who had exited the building swiveled his head several times – even looking at Cos himself for a second – before the two guards exchanged a hand signal and started after him.

Half-transfixed as he mentally drew connections between his purpose on Castell and the situation before him, Cos hesitated, then stepped after the trio, not taking his eyes off of them, and spoke into his comlink. "Master," he said. "It's Cos. I'm not there yet, but I've run into something suspicious at..."

Still walking, he broke off and looked around for a street sign, dodging two Gossam pedestrians. Before he could find one, though, he heard a loud, commanding voice penetrate the low tumult of the crowd.

"Hey, you! Stop!" It was the Human guard. He and the Devaronian were walking faster now, their business-meaning march having a strong effect on the pedestrians, most of whom accelerated to get out of their way.

The man they pursued had a hand in his pocket. When he heard the guard, he abruptly turned around, his eyes already wide with fear, and bumped hard against a passing Doneer. Flailing, he yanked his hand out of the pocket to balance himself, which caused him to lose his grip on a small remote-looking device that flew out of his hand and clattered to the ground several meters away.

Recognizing the object as an Aratech thermal explosive detonator, Cos saw the solution to the mystery. Not only had the Force not been lying to him, but this man was almost certainly the one he and his Master were after. That sense of heat on the wall of the building – that had been a warning that it was about to be bombed.

About fifteen meters lay between Cos and the detonator, and the man, while not far, was hesitating as though discouraged by the presence of the crowd. Cos made a dash for the device, calling on the Force to enhance his speed – whether it answered or not, he couldn't tell, for he kept having to twist around or shove past people. Luckily, the civilians were beginning to take notice of the disturbance and disperse.

The two guards closing in on him, the criminal finally rushed for the detonator, plowing straight through a trio of civilians, his powerful arms hurling them to the pavement around him. He made a final dive just as Cos, who was landing off-balance from a Force-assisted leap over the head of a startled Gossam, frantically reached with the Force and yanked.

A burst of something like wind rushed through a six-meter radius around the detonator, sweeping the startled man and those he had knocked down away while the device itself flew into Cos' hand. In three seconds he had the back panel open and deftly ripped out several key wires, rendering it useless. By this point the man was back on his feet, and shrieks of panic were echoing from all directions. The two guards were closing in fast, pistols drawn.

Ignoring their orders to put his hands up, the man cursed and scrambled over to one of the few nearby civilians, a Devaronian shorter than himself. Stunning him with a punch to the face, he circled to his back and placed him in a chokehold. Cos had dropped the ruined detonator and was about to move toward them when the criminal produced a blaster pistol from his pocket and, already scrambling away with his hostage, blasted two scorching holes into the ground before him, sending Cos and the guards stumbling back. "Get away from me!" he yelled.

"Let him go!" one of the guards shouted.

"Get away from me!" the man roared again, making his way across the street. Unleashing a haggard cry, the Devaronian lurched forward in an escape attempt, but like Cos, he was far shorter and comparatively scrawnier than his captor, and he abandoned his efforts when the blaster pistol's barrel was brought up to dig into the side of his neck.

The criminal continued his shouting-match with the Human guard and ended up backing himself into an alleyway while the other guard called for backup into his comlink. Suddenly reminded of his own comlink, Cos reached to the usual pocket where he kept it, only to realize that he must have dropped it in his lunge for the detonator. The screaming orders of the Human guard and the howling defiance of the criminal made his head ring with confusion. Where was Master Greddar? Probably still waiting for him at the office building, wondering where his clumsy apprentice had gone, maybe warned by a slight nudge from the Force that something had gone very wrong.

Only a few seconds had passed before the distant wail of sirens reached Cos' ears, and he edged closer to the alley. The criminal and hostage had disappeared into it, and the Human guard was standing just outside of it, silent for the moment, his weapon half-raised. His partner, the Devaronian, caught sight of Cos and already had his hand raised to shoo him away, but froze halfway through the gesture. A sudden light entered his eyes.

"You there!" he shouted. "Jedi! You are a Jedi, right?"

Cos flinched and pointed to himself. "What– How do you– Yes, I am. My name is Cos Shiba–" Before he could finish the sentence or regain his composure, he was being dragged toward the alley.

"Akk, we're in luck! There's a Jedi here to talk him down!"

Akk looked at his partner, then at Cos, then back at his partner again in naked bewilderment. "What the hell's a Jedi?"

"Someone who can solve the problem! Get in there, Jedi!"

Cos wasn't certain of exactly what happened after that exchange. Perhaps he had gallantly strode into the alley, his steps level and even, or perhaps the guard had sent him stumbling in with a frantic shove. Whichever it had been, and whatever his disposition had been a few seconds earlier, Cos now found himself standing in the entrance of the dead-end alley with the two guards behind him, the shouting criminal before him, and himself scared half out of his mind.

Concentrating in the Force, he sent a beacon of alarm as far into the air as he could, hoping that his Master would sense it. Where in the galaxy was he?

He had no more time to continue the question when the full force of the criminal's hysteria hit him in the face. It was a tangible thing like the thickness of smoke in the air, more palpable than the man's furious voice.

"Hands up!" the man shouted, waving the blaster back and forth between Cos and the hostage. "I said, hands up! Now!"

Cos swallowed. There was no more time to stall. The man was growing more irate by the second, and would surely lose his restraint if he was left to his own devices. Now was the time to act. Taking a deep breath, he slowly raised his hands above his head.

"Hang on, let's just stay calm," Cos said quickly, hoping that his own trouble with that wasn't too obvious. "No need to do anything rash here. I'm not here to hurt you. Nobody wants to hurt you."

Seeming a modicum more stabilized by Cos' words, the man kept his blaster up against the Devaronian's neck and glanced behind himself. From Cos' position, the alley traveled perhaps twenty-four feet down before terminating at a solid, smooth vertical wall identical to the two ones leading to it. His quarry was at about the halfway point, and was glancing in dismay up each of the walls, possibly in search of a fire escape or something else to climb to safety with. But the walls were utterly featureless, save for an odd, blocky protrusion about the size of a speeder's trunk that sat twenty feet up.

His form shadowed by the walls around him, the man regarded Cos again with a glare, but seemed unable to think of anything to say. His hesitation meant that there was an opening to distraction. Tentatively gathering his will, Cos reached gently with the Force for the blaster pistol, but found his telekinetic range diminished. His own pounding heart was disrupting his concentration, and the emotions of both the criminal and his hostage formed a boiling, festering mass of terror and anger that inhibited Cos even further.

Complicating the matter, the man was holding onto the blaster so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Cos needed to whip it out of his hand so fast that he would neither see it coming nor have time to react. That, however, was impossible at the moment. Cos needed to get closer and to make the man relax. He decided that the best way would be to keep him talking.

"My name's Cos," Cos said, his words shaky but as polite as he could make them. "Cos Shibatt. What's yours?"

The man squinted. His hard, gravelly eyes glanced down. "Call me Sanjo," he said quickly, as though the sentence hurt.

"No last name?"

"Just call me Sanjo," the man said irritably.

Cos nodded slowly in apology. "Okay, Sanjo." That little exchange had allowed him to take a tiny step closer. "I can see from your clothes that you're a miner. I myself am a Jedi from offworld."

"What the hell is a Jedi?"

Cos almost frowned, but didn't blame the man for his ignorance. Most ordinary beings he met didn't know what a Jedi was – except, recently, for a certain security guard. "A Jedi is... Well, you could say that we're a group of freelance investigators. My Master and I, we were sent here to find someone who has been harrassing Mekainure Pioneering. Corporate sabotage, death threats. Serious things."

Sanjo looked at the ground again, then glared at Cos with such fury that the Jedi almost took a step back. The sirens were close now.

"The man we're looking for is you, isn't it?" he went on. "I stumbled across you just as you were about to blow up that warehouse. But you work for Mekainure. You have their logo on your jacket. Why would you be sabotaging them?"

In the Force, the man's fury whiplashed, and his teeth drew back in hatred. "Yeah, it is me. The corporate sons of bitches robbed me." He shook his hostage, who winced.

The sirens ended, and the footsteps of at least a dozen police clamped toward them from the street. Apparently seeing them over Cos' shoulder, Sanjo lurched back a step, his eyes wide. "Keep them away from me!" he cried. "Keep them away, or I shoot!"

Turning his head sideways, Cos shouted, both to the police and to Sanjo, "Wait, wait! I'll handle this!" Reaching a hand back to point at the guard who had identified him, he barked in his most intimidating voice, "You! Explain it to them!"

The dark haze in the Force that circled around Sanjo and the Devaronian grew even thicker. Cos could hear Sanjo start babbling to himself, "They're going to get me, they're going to get me, why am I even here?" and knew that his time was running out.

"Sanjo!" he said forcefully. "Talk to me. I'm not your enemy here. Tell me why you're doing this. I might be able to help you."

When Sanjo paused, Cos took the opportunity to inch forward again.

Finally the man spoke, looking insulted. "You know what Mekainure corp does, don't you? It makes speeders." When Cos nodded, he continued, matter-of-factly rattling off each sentence in a clear attempt to look calmer than he was. "Well, the big corporations aren't the only ones that make money. Regular people do, too – or try to, anyway. I was one of those people. Used to run a speeder business myself, doing repair, mostly. Kept me and my family afloat pretty good."

"Family?" Cos interrupted.

Sanjo gave him a curious look, then returned to his normal scowl, but the expression softened a bit. "Yeah, family. A wife and a girl. We stayed afloat pretty good until Mekainure ran us outta business. Started expanding their own services closer to where we were. Deliberately ran us out. I know because right after they did, they oh-so-conveniently told me I was qualified to work for them, no hard feelings."

Cos now knew enough to infer the rest of the story, but saw no reason to hurry him. Sanjo's emotional aura had grown a bit less frantic and more contemplative, more deliberate, but he was watching Cos more closely now, so Cos didn't risk taking another step.

"Course, the new job meant we gotta move into an apartment in the industrial district that's less than a quarter the size of my house... The house that I used to be able to afford. Now I just want off this rock, and it'll be years before I work up enough money for that! Do you know what it's like to have a family?"

Cos actually had no memories of siblings or biological parents. He'd been found as an orphan by a Jedi Knight in the Atrig system, but since that information wouldn't help matters here, he only shrugged.

Sanjo's voice rose boldly. "Do you know what it's like to have a family depend on you? To have to tell your wife why you can't move to Coruscant anymore? To only have a room barely the size of a closet to play with your little girl in, and then work for the ones who put you there in the first place?!"

"Not exactly," Cos admitted. "But how does what you've been doing help them?" He thought of the warehouse that he had narrowly saved minutes ago, thought of all the people who had been walking obliviously around it. "Bombing your employers' assets? Think of the collateral damage. What if someone innocent was hurt, or killed?"

"Don't talk to me about being hurt. I can't just sit and let this happen to me. I can't not fight back. Someone has to– Stay back!"

Cos froze in the middle of his covert step, mentally kicking himself, and tried to think as he felt Sanjo's rage begin to boil anew.

"Of course you're with them," Sanjo spat, his finger drifting closer to the trigger. "I should just blast you right now!" But even as he said this, he didn't shift his aim to Cos. Another sign that he was unsure of himself, but it wasn't enough – he was still out of telekinetic range.

Cos thought of what might happen if the man lost his patience. He imagined the explosion of movement and terror, the Devaronian falling with a hole burned through his neck. From there it would only be reflex, with Cos advancing on Sanjo, sword drawn, and seconds later the man would be sliced open on the ground, his blood coloring the pavement. Then Cos remembered how unwieldy his sword was, and thought that maybe he wouldn't even be able to deflect or evade the shots, and he would be the one who died there. Or perhaps the police would lose their nerves and riddle them both with laser fire, and they would die in the alley, two strangers brought together by the Force.

He banished that thought with a defiant, internal roar. He couldn't let that happen. He just couldn't. Master Greddar had said that there was more to being a Jedi than carrying a sword. This situation had to be the very sort of thing that he had been talking about: the times when success couldn't be attained by physical prowess and combat experience, but by understanding and reason.

This man was no bandit who killed for his own pleasure. Sanjo was a desperate, frightened, angry man who didn't know what to do. Killing him would solve nothing. There had to be another way.

"Listen to me, Sanjo," Cos said, trying to radiate calming energy as he spoke. "You don't really want to shoot anyone, do you? Even if you could get away with it. You're angry. I understand that. We all make mistakes. But killing anyone – me or this innocent man – will only make all of this worse."

"Shut up," Sanjo growled. "Don't pretend to understand me."

"You've already made mistakes," Cos continued, steeling himself and redoubling his focus. He needed to push Sanjo just far enough and in the right direction. At the very least, he needed to make him reckless enough that he would loosen the grip on the blaster. He asked, "Do you want to make this one, too? Do you really want to be a killer?"

"I said shut up," Sanjo barked, but he wouldn't look Cos in the eye. That was a sign – the Force was telling him that it was time to twist the proverbial knife.

"I've killed people before," Cos said. "I know what it does to you. It's a hard thing to bear, and not everyone should have to. Do you think you should have to? Should your family have to know you carry it?"

Sanjo glared at him again, but the expression was as much a grimace of pain as it was of anger. The hand clutching the blaster relaxed a bit. The gambit was working, but it wasn't over yet. Sanjo spoke again, and this time his voice was an agonized croak. "What difference does it make? I turn myself in, they go broke. Why should I even bother?"

The angry cloud that had surrounded Sanjo began to thin, weakened by despair, and Cos took another small step, his confidence growing. With another minute's concentration, he might just be able to disarm him, but he suddenly found himself not sure that he wanted to.

"You have to live with what's in your life, Sanjo," he said. "Both your own decisions and what happens to you, even if some of it isn't your fault."

The despair convulsed and stretched and squeezed inside of Sanjo, and tears burned his face. His hands shook, but his trigger finger was drifting closer to squeezing shut, and Cos realized that he was pushing too far. Instead of being convinced to surrender before he did anything more to regret, Sanjo was on the verge of giving up and killing the hostage anyway, not caring what happened to him because he believed himself to be past the point of no return.

Desperately, Cos reached with the Force, brushing against the blaster pistol again, only to find that it still was held too tightly. What was he supposed to do? What would a full Jedi Knight do?

From the Force came a whisper, echoing what his Master had said on the train: Not the short, easy way.

Sanjo was starting to quietly mutter to himself again, and Cos could see his knees starting to shake, feel the hostage's panic spike even higher. There was no more time.

"Wait!" Cos blurted. "I can help your family."

Sanjo's jaw went slack, and his blaster-holding hand almost fell to his side. "What?"

Cos went on before he could hesitate, before doubt could take hold in his mind. "Turn yourself in now, before this gets any worse, and I'll help your family. You said they can't support themselves, right? I'll see to it that they can. I won't lie to you, I can't keep you out of prison. But I will keep your family off the street."

"You..." Sanjo looked like he had to dig the words out of his own gut. "How can you do that? How can I even trust you?"

Cos took a deep breath. "I'm a Jedi. And I know you don't know what that means, but we're more than just investigators. We're also peacekeepers. We help people. The neglected and defenseless are our specialties. I promise you that I will find a way to help them."

"Prove it."

It only took Cos a few seconds to think of how he could. "See this?"

Very, very slowly, Cos lowered one hand, swept his cloak back, grasped the hilt of his sword in a backhanded manner, and drew it. The long, quiet ring of steel accented his next words. "This is my Jedi katana. It's a work of expert craftsmanship beyond anything either of us can imagine. A weapon far more powerful than an ordinary vibroblade. Members of the Jedi Order are gifted with these after long years of intensive training.

"I can't tell you how much I used to envy the Jedi who had these before I was given this one. It's a symbol of our readiness to serve the beings of the galaxy with greater commitment and skill than ever before. I've owned this weapon for less than three standard days. But I've just now realized that it represents so much more than my ability to fight. It represents the rest of my life, with all of its struggles and commitments.

Cos held the weapon out, then tossed it to the ground, and it rolled to a stop halfway between himself and Sanjo. "By this sword, I swear that I will help your family."

As slowly as Cos had drawn his blade, Sanjo now opened his arms, allowing the Devaronian to stumble out of the alley. His head fell down to his chest, his knees quaking, and the blaster pistol fell from his slack fingers. Like a mountain crumbling, he sank to his knees, his hands on his head.

The next few minutes went by in a vaporous blur not unlike the form that the city had taken when seen from the maglev train. A squad of black-uniformed police thundered past Cos, and a multitude of voices echoed in the narrow expanse of the alley. The words were almost unrecognizable, but among the shouts of the officers, Cos thought that he heard Sanjo hoarsely expressing gratitude as he was dragged away in handcuffs.

After the police had collected the blaster pistol, determined that no one was hurt, and questioned Cos and ensured that he would provide the station with a full report as soon as possible, they piled into their speeders with the criminal and sped away, leaving Cos standing alone in the alley, staring at the blank wall twenty-four feet away, his Jedi katana back in its sheath where it belonged as pedestrian traffic gradually trickled back to life in the street behind him.

Cos was just about to reach for the empty pocket where his comlink was supposed to be when the device inexplicably fell from the sky. Sensing it coming, he caught it instinctively, and his eyes immediately moved up to the duracrete block that protruded from the left wall twenty feet up; one second later a gray blur that was the size of a man appeared from behind it and, cape billowing, landed in a crouch directly in front of him.

While Cos Shibbat regathered his wits, Jedi Master Hanz Greddar straightened up and dusted his robe off. "Well-executed, my apprentice," he said. "Quite well-executed."

Greddar's apprentice stared with a disbelieving squint. He pointed numbly up at the hiding spot. "You... you were..."

The Twi'lek glanced up. "Yes, I was observing. I sensed that you had run into trouble, so I excused myself from the meeting with the executives. I arrived just after the confrontation moved to this spot and could have intervened – but instead I decided to see how you would handle the situation. I would have interfered if things got out of hand." The Jedi Master made a slow nod and barely, almost invisibly smiled. "I am pleased to see that things did not."

Cos' eyes narrowed and something fluttered in his chest. He wasn't sure whether to be angry, annoyed, relieved, amused, or something else entirely. In the end, he simply said, "Thank you, Master."

Greddar nodded again, and his eyes swept back and forth across the walls around them, as though he was looking for something interesting to study. The quiet murmer of the growing crowd reached their shaded meeting spot.

"I hope you realize," Greddar said finally, "that a Jedi oath is not something easily broken."

The Jedi apprentice bowed his head. "I understand, Master. I didn't make this one in vain."

"Though as your teacher I will help you in all of your endeavors, I am not a rich Jedi Master. You, Cos, will be responsible for honoring your pledge. But I believe that you are up to the task."

While he was proud of how he had handled the situation, Cos knew that his involvement had only just begun – and he would have to think of his next step soon. He wasn't yet sure what that next step would be, but he wasn't lying when he replied, "I think I am too, Master."

Greddar clapped his hand on Cos' shoulder, smiling microscopically again. "Good," he said, walking past him. "Good. Now come. I think we will need to familiarize ourselves more with this city. We may be here for some time."

Cos followed Greddar out of the shadowed alley and into the streets of Trepury, which bustled beneath a violet sky that was veiled by cloud cover. The air had picked up a cool breeze, but it was less discomforting than it was awakening.

"Very well, Master," Cos said.