Chapter Ten: Realizationz

For April, Ashley, and Jen.

After a long time away, I've finally written the conclusion to this story…sort of. Star Wars being Star Wars, the story never ends, and the wars continue. But for me, this story is almost over…another chapter (mostly finished) will conclude this for me. My thanks to everyone who left feedback; you're the sole reason that this story is continued. After months on the shelf, I saw the feedbacks asking me to finish it…so I have. Enjoy this chapter, second to the last.

Chapter Ten: Realizationz.

…A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

The richly decorated interior of Jag's ship was quiet, soothing. In the lounge, over in the area Soontir had converted into a study section, dark walls and muted colors served to give the space a peaceful, hushed atmosphere. Jag sat hunched over a wooden table, scribbling notes on a sheet of flimsy. Now and again, he would sit back into the soft, comfortable chair, thoughtfully tapping his teeth with the stylus, only to lean forward again and continue writing. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and his eyes were continually moving up and down the paper, scanning, considering, evaluating.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Jag looked up as the door opened, and Saba Sebatyne, Jedi Master, walked in, tail swishing behind her, dark eyes troubled. She had excused herself earlier, claiming a need to meditate and relax; it seemed to have done little good. She was tense, jumpy; her tongue was flicking back and forth between her pebbly lips, and her hands were clenched.

As she approached, Jag put down the flimsy. Concern emanated from his voice as he asked, "Saba? What's wrong?"

Her response was short and abrupt. "Thiz one wishez to take a walk, Jagged Fel."

"A walk?" Jag was confused. "Why tell me? If you want to go walk, then by all means, go ahead and-"

Saba, with a visible effort, unclenched her fists. "Thiz one waz not clear; she apologizez. Thiz one wishez to take a walk with you, Jagged Fel."

Puzzled, Jag rose, dropping the stylus on the table as he passed it. Suppressing his instinct to touch her on the arm, he gestured out the door towards the aft sections of the ship, saying, "There's a park nearby. It'd be nice to get some fresh air, after sitting in here for so long."

He led the way out of the ship, stopping to close up the hatch and activate the custom security systems onboard Seldom Home. As he tapped on the keypad, he asked, "Will we be back before the others are?"

She sissed softly. "Yez. Thiz one iz sure we will arrive back here before any otherz."

Something in her tone made Jag uneasy; but he wasn't sure what, exactly.

--

The day was beautiful, clear and crisp; the sun shone brightly on the pair as they walked side-by side out of the spaceport and towards the nearby lake, which the rulers of this planet had thoughtfully preserved, creating a pleasant area, free of commercial buildings and clutter. Smooth, purple grass, cut in neat, orderly rows blanketed expanses of open area, dotted by flowering trees and discreet benches. The lake – slightly green and calm -- was bisected by the reflection of the sun, a glowing streak of light that could probably damage the human retina if he looked at it for too long. He made the mistake of looking too closely at it; for the next three minutes, his eyesight was obstructed by an afterimage that bore a striking resemblance to a lit lightsaber, held blade-down.

The silence stretched unbroken, though Jag quickly ascertained that something was very, very wrong. The longer they walked, the more pronounced his sense of unease became. The Jedi at his side did not walk so much as stalk; even the small groups of overfed animals that gamboled through were not enough of an attraction to break her sense of somber thought.

He sat at a duracrete bench, flanked by two trees. The branches subtly rearranged themselves to shade him from the warm sun; they must have been modified trees, likely with a link to a pressure switch embedded in the bench.

Saba refused to sit, pacing back and forth in front of him. The minute stretched into two, then three. Near the five-minute mark, she turned to him and faced him full on, tongue flickering to sample the air.

When she spoke, her dry, raspy voice was clear and strong. "Thiz one haz a doubt, Jagged Fel."

"Do you." Jag's response was not a question; it was a request for more information, delivered in a flat, quiet monotone.

"Yez." Saba resumed pacing, speaking as she stomped back and forth, digging up small clods of earth with her claws. "Thiz one doez not doubt that Jacen Solo is a shenbit posing az a nerf. Nor doez she doubt your tale about Zekk. Nor doez she doubt that the Jedi are being absorbed into their own Dark Nezt without noticing."

The analogy seemed remarkably apt to Jag. Suddenly, the entire Dark Nest, the bugs, and the Joiners bore an unsettling parallel to the Jedi and their slide into Darkness. Such philosophical considerations, however, were for another time. He had a bigger problem, right now – making sure his only Jedi ally was truly on his side.

"In that case, what do you doubt, Saba?"

"You." She met his gaze, unwavering. "Thiz one doubtz you."

This surprised Jag, to say the least; but he managed to keep any indication of offense from his tone. "Explain that, please."

He felt an odd pressure at his back and buttocks, and glanced down. He was extremely surprised to find himself floating in the air, several centimeters above the bench and rising. He had been levitated before, by Jaina, during some of their mock battles and playful teasing, and at other times as well; but this was different. Very different. The bench, a meter below him, looked extremely solid and appealing. His upward motion stopped, and he hung, unmoving, in the air. He looked back at Saba, who was standing in front of him, arm outstretched, and started to ask what she was doing; but an invisible hand seized his throat, and he found himself unable to breathe. His chest constricted, and the stored oxygen was forced from his lungs. Panicked, he instinctively tried to grasp his throat, but could not move his arms or hands. All feeling in his arms and legs was lost. Something was blocking his airway, blocking the entry of fresh air yet somehow allowing the air in his body to leave. Spots appeared before his eyes, and the world blurred.

Air, sweet air, poured into his throat. He coughed and gasped, greedily sucking in as much as his lungs would hold, unable to think or feel anything but the need to fill his lungs. The bands around his chest loosened, and he could suddenly feel his extremities; but he was too weak to do anything. The cushion of air that he had been floating on disappeared, and he fell a meter, thankfully landing on the soft grass instead of the concrete bench. He lay there for a moment, wheezing; then opened his eyes to see a scaly hand outthrust, with Saba behind it. It looked like she was offering to pull him up onto his feet.

Instead of grasping the hand, he recoiled, scrambling backwards, until he ran up against the permacrete bench that he had been seated on just a few moments earlier. Unable to go any further, due to his weakened body, he collapsed against it. Aghast, he raised a trembling finger, pointing at the Barabel before him and croaked through a raw and burning throat, "You…you're on Jacen's side! You're a Dark Je-"

He hadn't thought that Barabels could look fiercer than nature had made them. He had been wrong. Fury and rage twisted Saba's face, and her mouth opened in a snarl, cutting off his word partway out of his mouth. Huge, sharp teeth protruded from her open jaw, and she bounded towards him, lightsaber flying off of her simple belt and slapping into her hand, where it lighted with a loud snap-hiss. She swung the blade towards his neck even as he tried to melt back into the bench.

The glowing blade halted its descent a micron from his throat, so close that he could feel the heat from it. He smelled the stubble on his neck burning, and realized that he might not need to shave anymore. His face was pale, and his body was rigid.

Shaking with anger, Saba rasped, "Never say that. Never! Thiz one haz NOT fallen to the Dark, and she will never serve it!"

Still holding his neck still, Jag sputtered, "Then….how…why?"

She deactivated the lightsaber and snapped her jaw shut, but remained looming over him. "There were three reasonz." She tapped the hilt of her lightsaber against her skull as she counted them off.

"One: Thiz one had reason and right to kill you juzt then. By your own admission, you have – unprovoked – assaulted a member of thiz one'z Order. All he did was greet you, and mention a name, and you attacked him. Rather than publicly humiliate and judge you, he deemed you a threat, and removed you – humanitarianly. He did not kill you, he merely tampered with your mind so that you would no longer attack him, and took necessary precautionz to prevent you from returning.

"You have told thiz one that you plan to destroy the Jedi. You seek to confuze and subvert memberz of the Order, drawing Jedi away from the Council and the authority of the Grand Master. Thiz one assumes you do not need to be told the punishment for that."

Well, that's one way of saying it, sure. "But Zekk was in league with Jacen! He's been karking about with Jaina's mind for-"

"Two:" Saba said, louder, drowning out his protests, "To prove to you how helplesz you are. You are a great warrior, Jagged Fel; but you cannot anticipate everything, nor can you defend against everything. The Force iz something that you cannot hope to fight by yourself. You saw how easily thiz one overcame you; if she had wished, you would be dead right now. With the enemiez you have already made, it iz a wonder that you are still alive. If you defy them, and work against them, thiz one iz sure that you will not remain alive much longer. You can hide, to be sure. I do not doubt that there are ysalamiri left. And the galaxy iz a big place. But one mistake putz you at a disadvantage, and renderz you helplesz. And the next time, you will not face one who will relent."

The lesson was certainly true, but Jag still didn't think it was necessary for him to learn it that way.

"Three," Saba continued, "to teach you a simple fact. Thiz one used the Dark Side of the Force to do that. Prove to thiz one that it waz wrong for her to do so."

He looked at her, confused. "Prove…what do you mean? Of course it was wrong! Fierfek, you just kriffing Force-choked me! That's the Dark Side!"

"The Dark Side? What is that?"

"You just told me that you used it. Don't you know?"

Her tone was sarcastic, mocking. "Enlighten thiz one."

"The Dark Side is everything evil! It's everything in the galaxy that's wrong, it's the boogeyman used to frighten children. It's the danger that every Force-user must face, it's something that can corrupt and seduce anyone, turning good into evil. It's…" He stopped, searching for words to express what he was trying to communicate, and finding none. "It's…well, you're the Jedi. You tell me."

"Very well: it iz an ancient mistake. There iz no dark side. There iz only intention. Surely, you do not believe that when a Jedi getz angry, a mysteriouz entity siesez control of hiz body and never letz go?"

"Of course not; but that doesn't change my point. Look at history! Sith existed, as did Dark Jedi…and the Jedi have a Grand Master right now that can testify to that!"

"And what iz wrong with the Sith? What iz wrong with a Dark Jedi?"

"What's wrong with them? They're evil!"

She cocked her head and regarded him curiously. "Evil is a relative term, Jagged Fel. Surely you have heard thiz. The definition of evil has changed; there iz no darknesz, except the darknesz that iz in you. There iz no Dark Side: life'z purpose iz to seek out whatever makez you the happiest. Not acting on your desirez iz evil. Iz that not true?"

"Bloody right it's not true!"

"Iz that so? Why?"

He had a sudden flash of insight, and felt slightly foolish for not realizing it before. Saba wasn't expressing what she believed; she was testing him somehow. He knew that she believed in the existence of the Dark Side, and that she didn't subscribe to Jacen's beliefs. He wished that he could figure out how she was testing him, though.

"Because if you believe that, then any evil, any atrocity, can be justified! 'Oh, Palpatine was just following his desires.' Or maybe, 'oh, I don't like Corellians, I'm going to kill them all. They're inferior, anyways.' You follow that philosophy, you end up with a savage herd of animals, fighting each other tooth and nail to survive."

"You are correct in thiz." Saba smiled, and Jag had the momentary, insane impression that he was a Barabel 'hatchling' being congratulated on a successful hunt by an instructor. "But I ask that you go even deeper than that. You have described the probable results; describe to me the cause."

"The cause. The cause. Hang on a minute."

"What iz evil?" Saba prompted. "What makez any action wrong? What overall rule definez it, what separatez the good from the bad?"

"Evil is…oh, kriff it all. You win; now tell me the answer."

She bared her teeth. "If I have won, then there iz only one answer."

Before he could blink, the bands constricted around his chest again, and his throat stopped up as effectively as if she had vacuum-welded it. This time, instead of floating about in the air, he lay pinned on the ground, unable to move. He noticed this in an abstracted, casual sort of way, but soon lost interest. More pressing concerns weighed on his mind; oxygen, something that he normally wasn't terribly aware of, was suddenly the only focus of his existence. The choke went on for longer than the previous; he had a sudden, hilarious thought that it was never going to end, right before he passed out.

--

Several million volts of electricity surged through his body – at least, that was what it felt like – and he jolted upright, hair standing on end, his whole body tingling. Rubbing his throat, he glared at Saba, who was withdrawing her finger from his forehead. He'd seen Jedi wake unconscious people before by gently placing a hand on their brow: apparently, Barabels were a little more unrefined. "If you're going to torture me, shouldn't we go someplace more private?"

"Thiz iz not torture, Jagged Fel. Thiz one iz merely forcing you to learn realistically. Abstractionz are one thing; wisdom gained through experience iz another."

"So you're teaching me by Force-choking me when I get it wrong, is that it?"

"Yez."

"Teaching me what?!"

"What iz the Dark Side? What iz evil? What universal rule separatez good from bad?"

"Stang! You've got to be joking…" he hurriedly changed direction when he saw her hand raise. He'd never felt quite as helpless as this before. "All right, all right. Give me a moment to think, okay?" He stopped, collecting his thoughts. "Evil is doing something that violates your conscience, your concept of right and wrong. That's what evil is."

Saba shook her massive head slowly. "Congratulationz, Jagged Fel. You have just defeated yourself. By that argument, you have no groundz to discredit Jacen Solo, and you are an idiot. Jacen losez no sleep at night because of his actionz; nor did Palpatine, or Shimrra, or Raynar Thul. If thiz iz your argument, you should go home now."

She paused, then continued, "I will demonstrate. Thiz one believez that it iz right for her to walk up to Cal Omaz and slam her lightsaber into hiz stomach, taking over the galaxy for herself. And you juzt told her that thiz one would be right; after all, thiz one thinkz she iz right, so that meanz she iz right! Thank you, Jag."

"No I didn't, I said…"

"What you said waz, 'evil iz something that violatez your concept of right and wrong.' Thiz one doez not think that she would be wrong; so she iz not. Correct?"

"No! I think that would be evil, very evil indeed!"

"So you are the one who definez good and what is evil? By that argument, you believe that anyone in the galaxy who doez not line up with you view is evil…what givez you that right? Iz it your galaxy? You are a monster, Jagged Fel; Thiz one should kill you right now, before your planz take effect and you start killing people."

"No, that's not what I meant." Jag put a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his thoughts. "You're twisting my words around, making them mean something they don't."

"No, thiz one iz not. Thiz one haz simply followed your argument through to itz logical conclusion. My anticipated assassination haz been justified."

"It's wrong!"

"No, you are wrong. Jacen iz the one who haz it right. People are dangerouz, Jag. They have such strange ideaz, cause such problemz; they need to be controlled. A wise ruler over the whole galaxy could stop all those problemz."

He bared his teeth, and growled, "Jacen Solo is a threat to the entire galaxy. He's corrupting and subverting good men and women, feeding them lies."

"Iz he? And you know better, are not deceived?"

"Yes!"

She sighed. "You claim to have the truth, then; but you are doing a poor job of presenting it, Jagged. If you cannot convince thiz one, who already agreez with you; how will you out-argue Jacen?"

He dared to sit up again, slowly, using the bench as a support. "It's not just that, it's also…it's also going against the established rules of society, too. Evil is something that everyone else considers wrong, as well as something that your own conscience tells you is wrong."

"That doez not make sense, either. The Jedi Purge waz sanctioned by civilization. So waz the Peace Brigade. The entire Yuuzhan Vong race supported the torture and murder of Jedi, the enslavement or destruction of peaceful worldz."

"But they were the invaders; this is our galaxy."

"According to the established rulez of their society, it belonged to them."

His brain was so muddled, it would take a month for all his neurons to find their proper paths again. He couldn't be any more confused if he'd been shot between the eyeballs with a planet-sized stunblast.

It took slightly less than a month. Slowly, but picking up speed as he went along, he said, "There must be something big, something powerful, something that is over everything. Something that is absolutely infallible, absolutely correct. Something higher that sets the standard for everything, everywhere."

She regarded him with amusement, but spoke encouragingly. "Yez, Jagged? Go on. What do you know of that iz universal, above reproach?"

Revelation burst into his brain, and he understood what she was saying. "The Force?"

"That iz what thiz one concludes, yez. I believe that the Light Side of the Force iz the ultimate standard for good in this galaxy; and the Dark Side iz everything opposed to it."

"But…how do you know what the Light Side of the Force is? How do you know what it wants? How do you know how to follow it?"

"That iz why I doubt, Jagged Fel. That iz the problem. Thiz one doez not know any answer to those questions. Thiz one haz seen no revelation from the Light to tell uz what iz good or what iz evil. There iz nothing in thiz galaxy that tellz uz the standard; yet that seemz impossible. Perhapz you know of one such manual?"

"No."

"You understand your dilemma, then?"

"Yes. But if there is no revealed standard, how will they—well stang, how will anyone find the answer?"

"Your earlier argumentz had some truth in them. In every being iz built a sense of right and wrong. Some call it a conscience. Some call it something else; it doez not matter. It iz not infallible; it can be corrupted, ignored, changed. That iz why there iz no way to prove the existence of evil."

"So what you're saying is, I can't show them any rules, and each Jedi ultimately has to make the decision themselves."

"Yez: but only because there iz no given standard. You cannot convince them that Jacen Solo'z teachingz are evil; but Jacen himself will show them that, someday. Already, Jedi are doubting him; some still trust, but otherz question. Soon enough, Jacen will expose himself. Soon enough, he will be seen for what he iz. You have said that it will destroy the Jedi; you are right. But from the ashez will rise a new type of Jedi, wiser, better. Thiz one believez , Jagged. Thiz one believez that good will ultimately triumph over evil. The Jedi need to find the difference between the two; then the war can start in earnest. When they see the truth, they will recognize it for what it iz; but they have not, yet, and thuz you can do no good."

"But not all the Jedi will choose to come to the Light."

"Please, Jagged Fel; explain that phrase."

It felt strange, having to define things that he'd never thought about. "'Come to the Light' means…choose to seek good. They can't just say they're going to remain in the gray areas…they have to actively strive to find Light. That's what the problem was; they spent so much time trying to figure out how close to Dark they could get without their eyeballs turning yellow."

"Soundz good to thiz one. The decisionz – to turn to the Light, that iz – must not be left to a debate, or an argument, or a discussion; that iz how lawyerz work." She might as well have been talking of eating a vegetable, from the distaste in her tone. "Thiz must be a matter of the heart, not of the head."

"So even if you're right, and the Jedi can't be reasoned into the light, you know me. I won't be able to just sit around. And what about Zair? What about Tarfang and Juun? What about Zeph, Kar, and Raal? Shawnkyr knows I need a favor; she doesn't know what, but I've contacted the Empire of the Hand and asked for an interview. How am I to explain that? They all know about all of this."

"Thiz one can handle all of that, Jagged Fel. That iz partially why thiz one went out to meditate thiz morning."

Jag suddenly recalled his earlier feeling of unease. It resurfaced in his stomach, surging up his throat and trying to block his voicebox. "What have you done, Saba?"

"Whether you agreed or not, thiz one must have acted." She exhaled loudly, tongue fluttering up and down. "Thiz one haz called Kyp Durron to help her."

The implications of that statement hit him like a punch in the stomach. Kyp's talent wasn't diplomacy, or logic. It wasn't in covert operations, either – Kyp's usual method of facing darkness was to blow something up. Violently – but he had one particularly useful skill, ready-made to keep things secret…

"This doesn't feel right."

"Thiz one agreez. But it iz necessary."

"Necessary? Saba, is it just me, or does that remind you of someone?"

"There iz a bit of Jacen in all of uz, Jagged Fel. The difference liez in what we do with him."

He brushed his hair from his forehead, squinting irritably at the sun. "I still don't like it, Saba."

"What other option do you see?"

"None," he admitted. "Where is Kyp?"

She hesitated, closing her eyes. "He iz a few kilometerz away from uz, south."

"He's on-planet? What is he doing?"

She opened her eyes, looking him straight-on. "He haz left the Phenir house already. He haz intercepted Juun and Tarfang, and iz almost finished with them."

"Finished with them!?" He had hoped to speak to Kyp before that started, hoped to talk to the five people who had helped him. He had wanted to ask their permission, or something…

"Finished changing their memories, Jagged Fel. They will never remember meeting you here."

Revulsion clamped his stomach, and he scrambled to his feet, heading towards the lake. Saba trotted along behind him, humming softly to herself.

"Thiz one apologizez, Jag. She did not mean to cause you pain; she waz only-"

He slowed, changed directions. Softly, he completed the sentence she had left unfinished: "Doing what was necessary." He sighed, resigned. "You're right, Saba. It is necessary."

They walked back to his ship in silence.

--

Kyp was standing at the doorway when they got to Seldom Home. He was dressed in his usual clothes – a dark outfit that pretty much screamed "Jedi" to anyone who was looking. If it wasn't for the wrinkles, he could have been a fashion model posing as a Jedi; as it was, there were several women quietly eyeing him from other ships in the docking bay. There was a late-model black speeder parked next to him, a sporty model that looked like it could blow his hair off if he opened up the throttle. That hair, unsurprisingly, was slightly mussed up and longer than Jag had ever seen it; but before Jag could comment, Kyp spoke.

"You need a haircut."

Slightly disoriented by hearing his planned words aimed back at him before he could speak, Jag said, "How many years have you been waiting to say that to someone?"

"Last time I saw Chewbacca."

"I never met him, unfortunately."

"Think the Wookiee version of Han Solo, and you've got it about right."

"I've seen holos."

They were both sizing each other up; the banter meant nothing. Saba stood unobtrusively – well, unobtrusively for a Barabel – off to the side, waiting for them to make up their minds about each other at this, their first meeting after fighting on opposing sides.

The two humans had known each other for a long time. Upon first meeting, they had hated each other. At their second meeting, things remained the same. The pattern continued unchanged up until the defense of Borleias, during some of what Jag still considered the best moments of the war, despite the battles and suffering. On that planet, and in space above it, they had developed a respect for each other, a respect that – as they simultaneously relaxed and greeted each other properly – apparently still continued.

The three of them wandered the city for the next hour and a half, talking about their lives, updating each other on what had taken place over the past few years. Both sides of the Killik Conflict were shared; events in the GA were related in great detail; and the dichotomy of good and evil was debated, stridently.

Kyp had come to many of the same conclusions Saba had; but his perspective, surprisingly, was rooted more to the events of history than in the present. As they neared the lake that Jag and Saba had been at only a short time before, Kyp concluded, "For millennia, the Jedi followed the Light; but what were they really following? They had made up this Code, one that avoided certain emotions – the emotions that they had identified as ones that could lead an individual to commit 'evil' acts. I won't go back into the definition of evil now, but you know what I'm talking about.

"The problem was, it was a bunch of rules, and they had the same problem that all rules have: there's always a way around them, or a reason to ignore them. As a matter of fact, any system that relies on law to keep people moral is doomed to failure. Look at the Senate. Anyway, my point is that people will find a way around rules, or just break them, if the rule is just a rule. It's only when there's a reason to follow the rules that people want to obey them; and if you looked hard enough, there wasn't one.

"So that's why the Jedi were so…dead…when the Sith resurfaced. To the Jedi of the day, it was just a bunch of rules, with no meaning or truth behind it. It was some old folks' idea of how best to follow the Light Side; but it just came from those people. The Light had nuthin' to do with making those rules."

"So what's the answer, then?"

Kyp barked a laugh. "Utopia. Perfect people who want to follow the rules. Either that, or a reason to live in a way that honors whatever's behind the rules…the first is pretty much impossible to find, and the second is pretty darn tricky too."

"So…there is no answer?"

"Basically, yeah."

"That's impossible, Kyp."

"Thiz one agreez."

"I know it's impossible, but look at it! That's the way it is!"

"There must be something."

"Yeah, well if there is, I haven't been able to find it, and neither have you, Saba."

"That iz true."

"Hold on a second. If there's no overriding rule, no definition of good or evil; then what's the point? Why not take over the galaxy or something? Why fight Jacen?"

"There iz an overriding rule, an absolute standard. We juzt cannot find it."

"If there is such a thing, why wouldn't it reveal itself?"

"I don't know."

"Neither doez thiz one."

"I do know one thing, though."

"Well great, Kyp, that's a relief. Enlighten us."

"We've still got to do the best we can. We know generally what is good and what is evil; so we do what we know is right, until we find the standard. Then we follow it."

"It's got to be out there somewhere."

"Perhapz we have already seen it, and missed it."

Silence reigned as each thought about Saba's point; then Kyp brightened visibly, and smiled. "Why Master Sebatyne, you sound downright gloomy. Here, this will cheer you up."

Saba let out a startled yelp as Kyp's Force-push sent her flying into the lake. She emerged, spluttering, and set after Kyp with a grim determination that contrasted sharply with Kyp's laughing enthusiasm.

Taking in the ridiculous scene made Jag laugh until his sides ached. The sight of the fierce Barabel chasing after Kyp, spraying water everywhere, was something he had never seen before from the usually focused Jedi; and Kyp's antics only served to worsen the laugh as he Force-hopped from place to place, jumping in circles around the Barabel. Round and round they chased each other, Kyp bouncing like a demented nerf, Saba exuding the grim determination of a krayt dragon. After several long, achingly funny moments of their odd dance, Saba anticipated one of Kyp's hops and met him there with a powerful swipe of her tail. The male Jedi was sent end-over-end into the lake.

Jag watched from his bench as Saba offered a hand to Kyp, helping him climb out: the dripping Master, still grinning like a demented nerf, grasped Saba's hand firmly and flung himself right back into the water, dragging her along after him.

Laughing again, savoring the intentional light moment, Jag was grateful to Kyp for purposefully breaking up the seriousness of their conversation with some much-needed levity. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth that was spreading throughout his entire being, enjoying the sun and the beautiful day.

He opened his eyes in time to see a man stop in front of him, smiling. The stranger grinned in a friendly, affable way, and said, "H'it does me good to see people happy, it does. Lookit the two of 'em, playing like that. When's the last time you saw an adult playing, eh?"

Jag thought of his father and the Chiss. "A long, long time."

"Yessir, indeedy. You three was so serious back in the spaceport, all hard looks and glum expressions; it's powerful nice to see two of ye havin' fun."

Jag's instincts reacted before his mind. Before he quite realized what was wrong with that statement, his foot lashed out, striking for the man's groin. This man had been watching them in the spaceport; in a private docking bay, with nobody around. Jag twisted sideways in his seat, dropping his shoulder to the bench seat…and just in time, too. A vibrosaw, concealed in the man's sleeve, whistled through the air where his head had been. If he hadn't moved, it would have taken his head off.

His attacker danced back out of range, laughing merrily. "See, a bit of exercise does ye good. Keeps ye limber, that's what I say. If you're not enjoying life, what's the point of living it, eh? That's one of the reasons I do this sort of thing."

Mind trying to work it out, Jag rolled off the bench, landing in a crouch. He darted a quick glance towards the lake, but Saba and Kyp were still unaware of what was happening.

"Yep, I see all these people busy lyin' and deceivin', and then they get caught in it. So someone puts a contract out on 'em, y'see? That's when me and the boys earn our spiceloaf, if'n ya know what I'm sayin'." The saw, with it's long, swordlike blade buzzing, swiped out at Jag's head again, then changed direction and cut at his shoulder. He dodged sideways, and the saw cut a shallow slice in his arm; nothing too serious. "Once that's happened, these poor folks is miserable, see? They all think the worst, and spend all sorts of time wondering who will come after 'em. They imagine all the ways thet it might happen, and all the ways they kin get away; but living like that ain't much fun, let me tell ye. So my line o' work is almost like a charity, see?"

At the next swipe, Jag rolled sideways, diving to the ground. When he came up on his feet again, he had a vibroblade in each hand, and he was cursing himself for leaving his blaster behind.

"'Course, if'n I'd known that there wuz a bunch'o Jedi around, I might not ha' done it, even for an old acquaintance. But we kin improvise."

Another quick glance at the Jedi revealed that they were just becoming aware of his plight. Lightsabers lit, they were rushing out of the water, white drops of liquid spraying away from their churning feet, puffs of steam arising where the lightsaber tips brushed the waves. For no reason at all, as far as Jag could see, they halted their charge, turned in unison, and snapped their lightsabers up in identical guard positions. Back to back, they stood perfectly immobile; then blasterfire lanced out from the shore, from at least half a dozen sources, and they began to block shots. Jag was on his own for another few minutes.

"See? Thet's just stage one. Once they've got the rhythm, the lads'll swap over. You might still be alive to see it." He stomp-feinted, and laughed merrily when Jag slashed at him, missing. "Gotcha! Fooled ye, din't I? Wal, no harm done. Where wuz I? Oh yes, an old acquaintance. He wuz on his way t' see ya personally, but he got sidetracked. He said some pretty lil' Jedi gal needed some help someplace on t'other side of the galaxy. Wanted to come see ye hisself, in person, but I reckon he and this gal are kinda…close, if'n ye ketch my drift."

Some part of Jag's mind exploded into white-hot anger, raging hot and screaming – but the battle portion of his mind remained under strict control, analyzing, thinking, planning, reacting. He would deal with anger later. "Zekk." He spat out the name, imbuing the word with every ounce of hate in his body, layering it with frustration and anger and rage, wrapping it with a terrible promise of revenge. The finished project would have made a Hutt blanch.

This fellow kept his reaction under control, but Jag could see the reaction in the minute shifts in his posture, the slight tightening of his eyes. He'd just realized that he was facing a very, very dangerous man. Jag took some comfort from that. "Yep. He wanted ye to know the name, 'fore ye died…if I couldn't take ye by surprise, 'course. Person'lly, I think it's a waste o' time; once you're dead, you're dead, right? Whatza difference?"

The sound of blasterfire changed slightly, and Jag's mind recognized it immediately. Blaster bolts were worse than useless against Jedi...but a stun bolt was a quick, cheap alternative, and it actually worked sometimes. Some models worked better than others; but regardless, he couldn't count on Saba and Kyp for help. This was his fight to finish. He smiled inwardly, tightening his grip. He was Corellian. He was a Fel. He didn't need any help at all to finish a fight.

"The difference? 'It matters not whether you live or die, but that you do so with honor'." The quote was one that Jag had always loved. He wasn't sure of its origins, but it perfectly summed up both the Chiss attitude toward life and his own inner strength.

"Wal, that's a right nice sentiment, that is. I might use that someday…d'ya mind if I-"

Jag charged.

--

A vibrosaw, while wicked at medium to close range, was not the ideal weapon for defending oneself against an extremely close opponent who possesses a vibroblade. The primary martial function of a vibrosaw was to keep that opponent at arms length, where you can hack him up at your leisure.

However, if that opponent catches you off guard and gets in close, your longer weapon is a disadvantage. It is possible to ward off a single vibroblade, under favorable conditions; but an opponent wielding two, fiercely determined, and inches away from your chest, is something to be avoided.

Barlo Krax, bounty hunter, was about to learn this the hard way.

--

Jag was fighting for his life, and he knew it. His strange opponent undoubtedly had a confederate nearby, sneaking up while Jag was 'distracted' by the chatter. It was a decent plan, of course…had this bounty hunter encountered Jagged Fel twenty-five years ago, when Jag wasn't even a teenager, it might even have worked. Jag calculated that he had two strikes before his enemy dropped the 'saw and went for another weapon; and he made the most of them.

His first strike, a vicious double slash, cut deep furrows across his enemies' chest. The strike left him with his arms spread out wide to each side, with no time to retract and stab for center mass, so he reversed his grip on the two weapons and jammed the tip of each blade into the respective shoulders of his enemy.

Barlo roared in pain as the insane Corellian slashed his chest. He knew immediately that the gashes in his chest were deep; while he could probably survive them, he wasn't likely to survive much longer with his opponent in that close. He was right; even as he dropped the too-long vibrosaw to free up his hands, searing bolts of fire shot through both his arms and his shoulders exploded in white-hot pain. Desperately, he brought his knee up, trying to incapacitate Jagged Fel; but a deft shift of the younger man's body caught the blow on the hip, which probably hurt the man, but not nearly as much as Barlo had hoped.

Noises came from behind Jag as soon as he caught his enemy's blow. That would be the ally, come to rescue his boss. Barlo was severely hurt, but still very dangerous; Jag couldn't afford to turn his back on him.

He couldn't exactly ignore the onrushing enemy, either; so he did the next best thing.

His right toe hooked inside Barlo's right leg, and he pivoted, grabbing hold of the bounty hunter's collar and pulling him around. Using that leverage, he yanked the man around so that he was between Jag and whatever he faced. That unseen menace turned out to be a fearsome-looking Trandoshan, blaster outstretched, fangs bared. Without blinking, Jag drew the bounty hunter's blaster from his belt and fired at the same moment that a bolt lanced out from the Trandoshan's weapon. Jag's bolt caught the onrushing bounty hunter squarely in the face, dropping him to the ground even as the bounty hunter Jag held as a shield jolted from the impact of the Trandoshan's bolt.

Jag pivoted, still holding Barlo as a shield, and scanned the area. Kyp was in the act of slashing through the body of a bounty hunter; Saba was rising from the corpse of another. Danger past, he glanced down at the body he held, and was shocked to see the man still alive. With a cold eye, he assessed the wounds inflicted on the human; not even bacta could save him now. He dropped him to the ground and turned to walk away.

"Wait." The call was faint, weak; but distinct. "Please."

He turned back to the man on the ground, wary of a trap. "What?"

"Finish it."

"What?"

"Finish it. Please." He shifted, and let out a gasp of agony. "It'll take me some time to die, and it hurts."

Jag studied him carefully. "Why should I?"

The man tried to shrug, and failed. His drawling, soft accent gone, he said, "I promised Zekk I'd blow your head off. Just obeying the golden rule…do unto others…"

"That's no reason."

"Well kriff, what do you expect? I'm dying and I don't feel like stretching it out."

He leveled the blaster. "You sure?"

Barlo looked up at him, resolute. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Jag started to squeeze the trigger, but stopped and lowered the pistol when the man on the ground said, "Funny, eh? I feel like apologizing to Zekk, even though I'm the one dying and he's safe somewhere else."

"You can apologize to him later, kar'laka." Jag raised the pistol again, sighting down the barrel at the bounty hunter. "Wherever you're going, he'll be along shortly."

He pulled the trigger.