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| - From space, Dantooine looked like a dirty green ball, but to the new crew of the Ebon Hawk, it was the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Carth flipped a few switches into autopilot. As the ship descended into the planet’s atmosphere, Bastila gazed at the rolling plains of gold and lavender. “Dantooine...it seems like ages since I last set foot on her surface. We should be safe here.” Carth stared at her dumbfounded. “Safe? Did you see what Malak did to Taris? There isn’t a building over two stories high left standing!” Bastila crossed her arms in confidence. “Even the Sith would think twice about attacking Dantooine. There are many Jedi there, including several of the most powerful Masters in the Order. The Academy is a place of mental and spiritual healing, which we could all use right now.” Carth relented. “Maybe you’re right. It’s not easy to witness the annihilation of an entire planet. Mission must be taking this rough.” “She will find a way to come to terms with her grief, Bastila reassured him. “She’s stronger than she appears. We just need to give her time. When we land, I will speak to the Council about...recent events.” As Nik stepped off the loading ramp of the Ebon Hawk, he could see that he truly was on another world. Dantooine seemed to be the complete opposite of Taris; aliens bustled about without scrutiny, grass-covered hills stretched as far as the eye could see, and the only things that cluttered the sky were the planet’s native brith. The Jedi who wandered around were the most polite people Nik had ever met, though Bastila didn’t compliment this appearance very well. Nik glanced at Carth, equally astonished. Compared to the hell they faced on Taris, Dantooine was a paradise. With that thought Nik scolded himself silently. Everyone he had met on Taris was gone. All of them dead. For every vile and disgusting being, there was a good soul, like Mission or Zaalbar or Gadon. And even the most ruthless of them all were victims of circumstance, oppressed by the prejudiced Tarisian nobility. They lived in separate worlds, but they all died together, prey to Malak’s endless fleet. One question echoed in his head: Why? Bastila returned an hour and a half later. “I’ve spoken with the Jedi Council. They request an audience with you.” Carth raised his eyebrows. “An audience with the Jedi Council? That’s pretty rare for someone who’s not even a Jedi. What’s this about, Bastila?” Bastila frowned at the captain. “I’m sorry, Carth, but I cannot tell you. I only ask that you be patient and trust the wisdom of the Council.” Carth frowned back, a little more seriousness in his. “Well I don’t like being left out of the loop, but I’m not looking to get into with the Jedi Council. We’ll play things your way for now.” Bastila motioned to Nik. “Come, they are expecting us in the Council chambers.” Nik wasn’t sure what to expect of the Jedi Council chambers. Something on the same level of grandeur of the Republic Senate maybe, he imagined. What he found was a plain, round room with no floor but the planet’s soil. Upon entering, Nik immediately sneezed as his feet kicked up dirt and dust. The earthly smell still lingering in his nostrils, he took another survey of the chambers. Four elderly men stood in a semi-circle, facing him. “Ah, so you are the one who rescued Bastila. It is appropriate you are here,” said the red Twi’lek. “I am Zhar, a member of the Council. With me are Master Vrook, Master Vandar, and Master Dorak, the chronicler of our academy.” Nik nodded politely to each of them. “Taris has been destroyed, Masters.” The short, green alien called Vandar bowed his head in solemn. “Yes, we sensed its destruction. This is a terrible disaster, and a hard lesson for us all.” Nik had expected to receive a pompous, irrelevant answer, so he rephrased his question more directly. “Why would anyone do such a thing?” “Darth Malak seeks to destroy our Jedi Order. Our most effective weapon, perhaps our last hope, is Bastila’s Battle Meditation. Malak seeks Bastila at all costs.” One the gray-haired Humans, Vrook, nodded. “And if he could not have her, he would see her destroyed. Taris was just in the way, in his eye.” Zhar concurred with the other two masters. “We need as much as help as we can to stop him. Which brings us to you.” Nik cocked his head to the side. “Me? What about me?” “Bastila tells us you are strong in the Force. We are considering you for training.” “What? I was told I had Force Sensitivity, but enough to become a Jedi?” Master Vrook spoke up immediately. “Master Zhar speaks out of turn, perhaps. We need indisputable proof of your ‘strong affinity’ before we accept you for training.” “Proof? Surely the entire Council can feel the strength of the Force within this man.” Bastila turned to Nik, eying him in a most unusual way. This was not the snobbish woman he had known on the Endar Spire. “And I have already related to you the events that took place on Taris.” “Perhaps it was simple luck,” said Vrook, trying to brush the subject off. The Twi’lek Jedi shook his head. “We both know there is no luck, Master Vrook. There is only the Force.” “We all sense the Force in Bastila’s companion, but it is wild and untamed.” For the first time Nik’s attention turned to the other Human, Dorak. “Now that this power has begun to manifest itself, can we safely ignore it?” Vrook was not one to back down. “Jedi training is long and difficult, even when working with a young and open mind. Imagine how difficult it will be for an adult to learn the ways of the Force.” Nik’s faced wrinkled in disgust of the old man’s treatment towards him. “Hey, if I have to take the training, then so be it. My age should have nothing to do with it.” He didn’t bother to point out the irony of an elderly man in the seventies calling him old. “Such pride! Such arrogance! This one’s already on the path to the dark side.” Vandar wrinkled his green face. “As are many who are not given proper training, Master Vrook.” Zhar ignored his colleagues’ bickering and explained the situation to Nik. “Traditionally, the Jedi do not accept adults for training, though there a few rare exceptions in the Order. You are definitely a special case.” Nik didn’t know what to make of the Twi’lek’s comment, and instead focused on the other three masters as they continued their argument. “We need recruits to stand up against Malak’s forces,” said Vandar. “With Revan dead--“ “Are you certain Revan is truly dead?” Nik interrupted the debate. “He should be. You sent that task force to kill him, didn’t you?” “A true Sith never dies,” Vrook said gravely. “The spirit of Freedon Nadd corrupted Exar Kun centuries after his death. What if we train you and the Dark Lord should return?” “Look, I didn’t like you when I first met you, old man. And now you’re starting to tick me off by saying me becoming a Jedi will bring a dead Sith Master back to life. That makes no sense! And on top of that--“ “Peace, young Starfall,” said Vandar. “We should discuss this matter in private. Bastila, Nik, please go to your ship for the night.” As the young Jedi bowed, her wrists fluttered elegantly. “As you wish, Master Vandar. We shall report back tomorrow.” The dream started and ended the same way, in darkness. It was the same as the others, but all the more vivid, all the more unbearable. Once again there were two shadowy figures, their faces distorted by the black aura that absorbed their bodies. But he could see beyond that mask of darkness, into an abyss of fear and hatred. One of the specters began to speak, but his words were as twisted as his lips, and fell only on Nik’s deaf ears. The second figure ignored him, and began to glide his gloved hands over the cold stone door before him. Alien symbols inscribed in the rock began to burn a fiery red, and the talking figure’s bleak voice was disturbed by the sound of scraping stone as the four portions of the ancient door slid into place, allowing them entrance. Nik drowned from the darkness within. It engulfed him, destroying all of his senses, blinding him in every aspect. He turned away, cowering in the glimmer of light that remained inside him, hoping that his sight would return, and the nightmare would end. Instead, the darkness remained. “A Jedi must not be afraid to turn to the Force when in need of guidance,” a woman’s voice echoed. He still could not see, but Nik felt warmth radiating from her kind soul. “Open itself to the power. Let the Force flow through you.” And then it happened. One minute he was staring into the endless void and the next that spark of light within him grew stronger and stronger. He fed on it, reaching out with all his feelings, until it expanded beyond him. The fire glowed bright against the vast darkness, the sharp contrast perfectly illuminating her face. “Bastila?” “Quiet. Focus all attention your feelings. Do you see it?” He did. The light expanded everywhere, transforming the dark abyss in its path. They were now standing on a hill of lush grass, which spread in all directions into a green valley littered with several primeval stone structures, marking a path to the stone door. Bastila and Nik descended into the ancient burial mound, following the two shadows. “Revan and Malak were here before us--I feel their dark presence.” As she spoke, Nik caught sight of the dark duo once again. This time, under adequate brightness, he could see each of them in clear detail. One had blue tattoos painted on his bald head, and the other was fully clad in a suit of dark armor. “Is this wise? The ancient Jedi sealed the archway. If we pass beyond this door, we can never go back. The Order will surely banish us.” Revan remained silent behind his black mask, and once again beckoned with the Force, and the door opened. Bastila and Nik followed the two Dark Jedi into the room, stepping into an endless abyss once again.
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