The Rebel Faction

There were many unused wings in the Academy, the complex being vast and the number of Jedi residing within these ancient walls small, and they provided a refuge away from the rigors of teaching. As he sauntered through the dust covered corridors towards one of his favorite hiding spots, he became aware that he wasn't alone in this abandoned area of the building. Curious, the Jedi Knight followed the strong presence in the Force and as he neared one of the old courtyards, which were probably as numerous as the old rooms, his ears gradually picked up the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber.

Stepping into the shadow of one of the giant pilliars that boxed off the area, Kenshin leaned against the sun-warmed marble as he watched a Padawan unknown to him, which was a rarity as he spent practically every waking hour with the Academy's students, wielded a shining green blade in a sporadic dance against an army of invisible enemies. His strokes with the blade were swift and sure, he noted, but he also quickly discovered the young man's weakness: his footwork. He took to many unnecessary steps and the steps he took were too close together to give him really good stability.

Immediately following his analysis, the young man charged into the fray with a fatal strike only to have all the momentum pulled out from under him as his foot snagged a tree root that had forced its way up from under the ancient cobblestones. Kenshin cringed at the fall, the Padawan had landed face-first into the dirt, but the young man seemed unhurt, or rather still alive and kicking as he managed to groan and force himself up onto his feet. As the young man cursed at the root, he gave a laugh.

"Roots do that you know..." Kenshin called out with a grin from his end of the courtyard. "I suppose they don't have anything better to do when it comes to lightsaber training."

"Katarn." He said with a slight nod, finishing the young man's sentence. "But Kenshin will do."

"And no, I don't hang around out here much." He waved a hand motioning at the abandoned area of the Academy grounds they stood in. "Most of my time is consumed in the more frequented areas of the complex..." He added with a grin.

The Jedi Knight was a bit surprised the man didn't know who he was. It wasn't that he was some great Master of the Council or anything but the current number of teachers within the walls of the Academy were few at the moment and he was one of the most active. He was also surprised that he didn't know who this student was. Being an active teacher, he knew most of the students.

But there was also the thought that this man hadn't spent much of his time on Theed. Perhaps he was the Padawan of one of those Jedi Knights back from a mission. Maybe that was why they didn't recognize each other. Regardless, they were both here now and they would leave having that remedied.

"What do you go by?" Kenshin asked, offering the man his hand. "And do you come out here often?"

"What am I doing out here...?" He echoed with an amused expression. "I was running away from my students. But to be truthful, a number of these abandoned chambers and courtyards hold fond memories for me and I visit them when I'm on break from my duties."

"At the moment, I serve as one of Academy's few resident instructors so, in hindsight, running away from my students is quite possibly a valid explanation for my presence here." He added with a grin. "But, as a Jedi Knight, I just may be booked for a mission and unexpectedly disappear. So far, that hasn't happened to me though."

"Master Dolash did you say? A good teacher." He had heard much about the Jedi Master Dolash and understood that he spent much of his time attending to duties away from the Academy. If Marek assisted him in those missions, it would explain why the Jedi Knight hadn't seen him around. He barely knew the Jedi Master himself.

"Oh yeah." Kenshin answered with a slightly sheepish grin. "Used to question it all the time. Still do once in awhile..."

Kenshin hadn't been a very confident Padawan and with all the hardships he had encountered throughout his training - the loss of two Masters, running off on a mission not sanctioned by the Council, failing the Trials - he had questioned his path many, many times.

In his darkest moments, he had harbored thoughts of perhaps going Rogue, Observer, or simply quitting. But in the end, his memories of Master Wade, his thoughts of Master Amalia, and his need to prove himself made him stay and stick it out. It took forever, but he made it. And he was glad he did.

"Is it fulfilling..." He echoed quietly, trailing off as he mused. "I suppose it depends on what you find fulfilling. I've spent some time wandering, before and after I was Knighted, and during those travels I learned that it is the smiles and laughs, from sometimes the most common of people, that made it all worth it."

In his time, he had worked for and with people from all walks of life. He had dealt with royalty, acting as a bodyguard, he had traveled with smugglers and aided in their shipment, and he had helped with a family of farmers with their yearly crop. In the end, everyone just wants a good time and he made sure they had the capacity to do so. That was how he knew he got the job done.

Once the two men had formally made their goodbyes, Marek started back toward the vicinity of his living quarters. Zolar was quite intrigued with his latest acquaintance and was sure they would meet again. Moving quite briskly, he found himself just a few feet from the door when something struck him. A feeling of uneasiness. It was so strong that the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up, not so much in the sense of being frightened, but rather an overall feeling of insecurity.

Something was off.

The initial wave of feeling stopped him dead in his tracks, while his brain tried to process it. Though not quite attuned to the full power of the force yet, he could hear it speaking to him faintly. Like a million replicating voices whispering at once, that began to grow increasingly louder with every new voice added, until it had developed into a tremendous roar.

Marek was having a hard time making sense of what was being related to him, so he began to focus his concentration on calming the barrage of signals.

It waits...Don't go in there...

...what?...

His hesitation was not unfounded, but the curiosity he could have done without. So in doing the only rational thing from an old pirate’s perspective, he entered the space not heeding the warning. From the initial scan of the darkened room everything seemed to be in order...

Shit...

Out of nowhere and from what direction he couldn't tell a quick flash, followed by immense pressure, sent him flying into a wall. His body struck it hard and slumped to the floor. A smoking muzzle signified the only clue that there had been another being occupying the room.

Should have seen it coming, your losing it...

Time Passes

Eyes fluttering, Marek began to come to. Minutes?Hours? He had no idea how long he'd been out or exactly what had happened. Zolar was sure of one thing though, somebody was about to get a serious butt-kicking. That is, before he realized he was securely fastened to a chair.

"Can it be? The famous Marek Zolar?" a voice spoke to him.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Is it really you? It's hard to believe. After all this time"

"Who are you? Because as soon as I'm out of this chair you’re..."

"Come now, I don't believe you’re in any position to be making threats. Pity, I would have thought that, that habit would have died hard after you started playing hero with the Jedi."

The voice was beginning to sound more and more familiar and Zolar found himself trying to place a face with the voice. Post stun grogginess however, only impaired the process further.

"Still trying to figure out who I am? I'm insulted Marek, we have such history you and I. As a matter of fact, you made me the man I am today."

Zolar was really having quite a difficult time distinguishing who his attacker was. The longer his identity eluded him, the most frustrated Marek became.

"Marek, we'll save catch up for another time, I'm here strictly on business. With that being said, let's get to it. Your family name isn’t the best in the galaxy and quite frankly your brother isn't doing much to change that fact, he's actually elevated things to an entirely new level."

"Whip? What's happened?" The news was shocking and at the same time totally unbelievable.

"Yes, apparently after your sudden departure, baby brother decided to try his hand at piracy, only he's a bit sloppy in his work, seems the shoes you left to be filled weren't quite to his liking."

"Bullshit, you lie."

"Afraid not, he's really become a nuisance for people such as my employer. He's even resorted to measures that even you wouldn't sink too, even at your worst."

Marek couldn't believe the rubbish this guy was shoveling at him, Whip was mischievous no doubt, but a pirate let alone murderous pirate he wasn't. Or was he? What could have happened to cause such a change?

"However Marek, due to a lack of intelligence, mainly concerning your brothers where-abouts, we've decided to entertain a more convenient approach. Your mother is being held captive at an undisclosed location."

"You BASTARD!!" Marek struggled to free himself from the restraints that held him firmly in his seat.

"Can I finish? So much for Jedi patience. Anyways, like I was saying, she is being held at an undisclosed location, you have four days to find your brother and report his where-abouts, or mother will undoubtedly suffer a most unfortunate accident. Honestly, who better to send than his own brother?"

Fists clinched and snarling at the silhouette, Marek was ready to pounce the other figure; he'd rip out his heart if he had the chance.

"Once you've located Whip, bring him to coordinates I've provided on the data pad lying on your bed. Do not be mistaken, we are in complete control."

Marek struggled again, hoping to free himself from his confines, but without any luck he remained tied down.

"Oh and Marek, try to keep a handle on that temper of yours."

The hiss of escaping gas caught Zolars attention as fumes invaded his nostrils leaving zero time to react in any precautionary way. His body numbed, preceding his inevitable collapse back into an unconscious sleep.

The game was just beginning.