“Query: Was your discussion productive, Master?”

I bit back a growl as I entered the bay where Raven was docked and saw HK waiting for me at the base of Raven’s ramp. “No, HK, it wasn’t,” I replied slowly, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Kriffing waste of time that was.”

Ever since the Trandoshans had jumped away with Anakin, I’d been walking a knife-edge between rushing off in the vain hope we might find them quickly and lashing out at anyone who wasn’t helpful. Given I’d spent the last hour with the station’s commander and head of security, after being escorted to the meeting by two dozen security personnel, the latter option had felt more likely.

The pair had, even after I confirmed I was a Jedi and provided recordings that confirmed the Trandoshans shot first, spent more time trying to pressure me over my actions than the firefight and kidnapping that had taken place on their station. They’d even had the audacity to demand I pay the medical bills for the security team I’d taken out while rushing to help Anakin and Simvyl.

I’d told them where they could shove that idea and then insisted the matter was now Jedi business. I’d asked nicely for their files and recordings for today and the Trandoshans' vessels and actions, but neither had been cooperative. They’d not wanted to do so, and even reminding them that their system was a member of the Republic, and as a member of the Jedi, with a personal connection to the Chancellor – which they discovered when they searched the Holonet for my information – they’d been reluctant to grant me what I’d asked for.

After that, they’d reluctantly agreed to hand over the files, but they weren’t letting me speak with the three surviving Trandoshans; insisting that the trio would be tried under local law and not the whims of the Jedi. The pair had a clear distaste for the Order, and while I didn’t care about that, the fact they were throwing it bluntly into my face hadn’t done much for my already sour mood. At least once a minute I’d considered simply grasping the pair with the Force and persuading them to be more cooperative. I’d resisted the urge but only just, and even now, with the meeting over, the idea still held appeal. As did ripping this station apart bulkhead by bulkhead until nothing remained.

“Query: Would you like me to speak with them?”

I smiled tightly as the various security personnel nearby tensed at the question, mainly as HK, as always, was armed. That said, the only weapon security could see was the one HK was carrying, the others were built-in or hidden, scanners unable to detect them due to additional features HK had insisted were added to the body when I’d had it commissioned.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” I answered, holding up a datapad. The station’s commander and security chief had, after the hour-long meeting, finally agreed to hand over all files for today’s events. They’d insisted that there were no copies, but I had my doubts and had sent instructions to R2 and HK during the meeting to ensure it was the only copy. “How did you spend your time?” I asked, moving through the command centre, and ignoring the peons who worked for the di’kute in the office behind me.

“Statement: While not as fruitful as I might have liked, it wasn’t entirely wasted.” We stepped into the lift at that, though HK remained quiet until the doors sealed and we began our descent. “Continuation:” HK resumed, using the Battlenet to take the discussion private. “The meatbags were unwilling to allow me to speak with those responsible for the young builder’s abduction, Master. Speculation: I believe they feared I might end the functions of the beasts in their care.”

“I’d have enjoyed it if you had.”

“Assurance: I would have only exterminated the Trandoshans after I was sure they served no further purpose, Master. Disclosure: As I was unable to speak with the targets, while we waited I accessed the security systems as you requested. Observation: Their protection was pathetically weak, even for a system designed by meatbags.”

“The files are erased?”

“Answer: Not entirely, Master. The files were being observed and copied when your request came in.”

“Haran!”

“Assurance: While I wasn’t able to immediately scrub the files in question, Master, I can assure you I was successful in my assignment. Explanation: Once the copy was created for you, I dispatched a program that would attach to every file in the system and erase the network. As I accessed their system from inside their command centre, they are unlikely to locate the issue before the program activates in thirty-four-point-two-six minutes.”

“Heh.” I laughed softly inside the armour even as the lift reached our floor. Stepping forward, I saw those in the room, which was the same security unit that had escorted me here, tense. They might have their hands on their weapons, as did others in the room, and several turrets turned to track our movement, but none of them were a threat. Already the HUD had determined the order to remove them, and I could feel the Force readying itself if I might decide to cleanse the room.

Taking a step forward, the team tensed further and moved toward me, only to pause when I raised my hand. “Don’t,” I said, activating the external speakers in my armour and shaking my head in disgust. “Just don’t.”

“Our orders…”

“Are rescinded,” I cut off the squad’s leader. “Unless you wish to join your comrades in the medibay, or the Trandoshans in the morgue.”

“Musing: Perhaps they should, Master. I sense you could do with ‘blowing off some steam’ as meatbags like to say.”

“Fair, but the sooner I leave this cesspit, the better,” I replied, walking past the squad leader, pushing him from my path as I moved. “Plus, getting blood off the boots is a pain I’d rather avoid.”

“Observation: That is why I prefer to terminate targets at a distance, Master. Or to use a disruptor.” I ignored that he’d just suggested he had access to a weapon that was outlawed in the Republic. Even if we were in the Core, you’d find people with such weapons, the trick was to ensure they were modified to look like a more common blaster rifle. “Confession: I do, however, admit something is pleasing about standing over a meatbag as their life leaves their eyes.”

A strained laugh forced its way out at the remark, the HUD showing those in the room growing even more tense. At least those who weren’t used to dealing with mercenaries and warriors. The more experienced security personnel seemed to understand there was no threat in HK’s words and made sure to ease the nerves of their less decorated colleagues.

Once we exited the security station, I returned our conversation to internal chatter. “Where are the lizards located?”

“Disclosure: It is of no importance, Master. To ensure they don’t reveal what they saw I have inserted a small alteration into the systems monitoring their cells. Oxygen levels are slowly decreasing to levels they cannot tolerate, and the alarms for the cells won’t sound until long after the meatbags have expired.”

“Acceptable.”

From there we walked in silence, which allowed me to turn my thoughts to my actions. I didn’t regret drawing on the Force how I’d done or my actions during the battle. I’d done so to help others. Yet I knew I had to be careful. With my powers and connection to the Force unstable and unbalanced because of Natural Selection, and with me already more inclined to draw on the Force in ways the Jedi wouldn’t approve of, I was at risk of losing myself in the Dark Side.

I’d not done so today, but there had been moments when, in the heat of battle, I’d come close, just as I had on other occasions. While I’d hunt and kill every Trandoshan that was involved in Anakin’s kidnapping, and would do the same if others such as Bo or Serra were in danger, I had to be cautious that I didn’t go too far, that I didn’t enjoy my actions too much. That path led to me being consumed by the Dark Side and becoming nothing more than a beast that had to be put down. Against the lizards, even losing control like that shouldn’t cost me, but against the real threats that awaited me – both those known and unknown as I felt there were more dangers in the galaxy than just what I was aware of – such behaviour would result in my quick and pathetic death.

I opened a channel through the Battlenet, wanting to alert Simvyl that we were returning only for the words to die in my throat. Stumbling to one side, I placed a hand on the nearest wall to steady myself as I felt a familiar presence reach out through the Force.

“Anakin,” I muttered as I reached back, wanting to let him know I was there for him.

We were far too far apart for any form of communication to take place, not least as I’d yet to open myself fully to allow such discussions. However, I could sense enough that my worst fears receded into the depths of my mind. Anakin was awake now, and while panicked and scared, he wasn’t in danger. At least not currently. The burst of emotions from him, even at this distance and with my connection to the Force limited by choice, was still enough to unbalance me, hence the stumble. Still, I knew he was as well as he could be.

Closing my eyes, I pushed open my connection to the Force, focusing entirely on the bond I shared with my son. I had enough understanding, thanks to my training with Fay and Dooku, to know how to lock onto the bond I shared with Anakin and send feelings along it.

Around me, the minds of those on the station became clearer, and the myriad of voices threatened to overwhelm me. Their desires, needs, wants, and every other random, meaningless idea and concept that consumed the thoughts of lesser beings crashed around me, threatening to bury me in a tsunami of insanity. I threw up barriers, drawing on my lessons, and kept the symphony of chaos back. All that mattered was Anakin, and reaching his mind, even, if possible getting a sense of where he was and who was with him.

It took a moment, as I was pushing through the Force over hundreds, if not thousands, of lightyears before I locked onto Anakin. Once that was done, I sent a burst of reassurance to him. He’d know I’d be coming for him, but I needed him to understand that it wasn’t going to be instant.

His response was one of relief as if he feared I’d fallen to the lizards that had taken him, or that, like Shmi, I might’ve abandoned him. The fear I’d sensed in his initial outburst had settled, though not gone entirely. Given his current situation, that was understandable, I just had to hope he didn’t latch onto that for support. Not because I didn’t want him using the Force in the same ways I’d done when trying to save him, but because I feared that, with him being young, and his mind still maturing, he’d not be able to control himself and never recover from what he might do if he answered the offers the whispers of the Dark Side provided.

Pushing myself off the wall, I realised HK was standing nearby, keeping guard while those around us swerved away, unwilling to pass close to a Mandalorian and armed droid. “Hold on An’ika,” I whispered to myself as I resumed walking with renewed vigour.

Somewhere out there, Anakin was in trouble, and if I had to rip apart the galaxy to find and save him, I would.

… …

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

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… …

I watched as the stars swirled around us as we travelled faster than light, putting the station and the soon-to-be dead lizards behind us. The first of the possible worlds had been inputted into the navigational computer and Raven was pushing herself forward, the engines exceeding their standard limits as we soared through the undulating eddies of hyperspace.

“You’ve got the conn,” I said to Simvyl as I stood and made my way out of the cockpit cape swirling around me. There was no need to have him alert me if something happened, as Raven would do that naturally. The Cathar was still wounded, with a few bacta patches still visible under his clothing, but he’d insisted on working. I didn’t need the Force or Observe to know he blamed himself for Anakin’s abduction, and while there was still some anger toward his part in events, I’d forgiven him.

Anakin had taunted the Trandoshan after it had spoken to him, and while that wasn’t the smartest choice, I’d have done the same or worse in the boy’s place. The difference was that if something had happened with me there instead of Anakin and Simvyl, then there’d not have been any lizards walking away from the battle. Force, if HK had been with me then the decks would be repainted with blood by the time we finished.

As I emerged into the central area, Fenrir lifted his head. Unlike most times that I passed through the area, he wasn’t lazing around on the main sofa, instead, he was stalking back and forth; agitation and anger radiating from him. Anakin being gone meant a member of our pack, our family was missing, and while his bond to the boy wasn’t as strong as mine, he still shared a connection with him.

In one corner of the area, waiting to be disposed of, was a pile of bones that had formerly been the leg of a Trandoshan. The tuk’ata had dragged it onboard after we’d returned to the station, taking over the scene of the crime. Several members of the security force investigative services weren’t happy with him removing evidence, but if they’d wanted the leg back, they could’ve tried to take it.

If he’d done that before Naboo I might’ve had issues, but not long after I’d purchased a trio of cleaning droids and tasked R2 with keeping the trio in line. So far, there’d not been any issues, though it seemed Fenrir was unwilling to let them collect the bones as, while I was moving through the area, one droid entered, only to scuttle away after Fenrir growled at it.

As I exited the central area, Fenrir fell into step behind me. Normally with what I was about to do, I’d not have him present, but I’d allow it for today. We were both on edge and having him nearby for what I wanted to do might allow me to retain my centre.

I slipped into my quarters quickly, the doors taking longer to close because of the tuk’ata. As he settled down in his usual position – one that allowed him to attack anyone coming in the door – I moved to my desk. Once there, I reached into my Inventory and removed Adas’ holocron. As I’d been using it more heavily since Naboo, I kept it separated from the other holocrons in my Inventory, though I wasn’t stupid enough to leave it in my quarters. While Anakin knew not to enter without permission, the holocron generated a presence in the Force that I suspected even Simvyl felt. The longer I could go without anyone knowing exactly what I was up to, the safer it would be for us all.

I closed my eyes and reached into the Force, easily finding the cold, reserved, but dangerous presence that signified the holocron of the ancient Sith King.

“And wha…” Adas’ words trailed off as the projected image stared at me. “What exactly has happened?” He asked, changing tack which made clear he could see the conflict in me over what I’d done, and how I’d drawn upon the Dark Side in my attempt to save Anakin.

I took a breath, readying myself for reliving the battle, and the sight of the vessel that had taken my son away. “There was an incident on a station we’ve just left,” I said slowly, watching my tone and emotions. The holocron would be sensing them, but I’d prefer not to be too clear about how close I’d come to losing myself. “Anakin, my Padawan, my son, was taken by Trandoshans,” I couldn’t stop the burst of fury that surged through me at the mention of that race. “I’ve sensed him through the Force, and know he’s alive but… I don’t know where he is or where those beings are taking him.”

Adas remained silent after my confession, though I could feel the holocron probing me through the Force. “Hmm. While I know little of the species, bar what previous holders of this holocron and you have told me, based on that data, I would assume that they intend to take your apprentice to one of their hunting worlds. However, I know nothing of where such worlds might be located, though I may have a method for how to locate your apprentice. That said, I don’t believe that is your primary reason for speaking to me.”

I suspected his idea for locating Anakin would involve reaching into the Force, and it was something that I’d considered ever since we’d left the station. However, due to how I was recovering from the battle, and the maelstrom of emotions swirling within me, I was reluctant to do so, which was why I’d sought out the holocron once we’d entered hyperspace. “My Padawan and Simvyl were elsewhere on the station when they were attacked. When it happened, when I sensed Anakin’s fear and panic, I almost lost control. I knew I couldn’t reach him easily, not with how my Force connection wasn’t the same as it once was. At that moment, with no choice, I drew upon the Dark Side and let it guide and shape my choices.”

“Do you regret the decision?” the holocron asked slowly, no doubt taking stock of my words, feelings, and presence within the Force.

“No.” I blinked, surprised at how quick my response had been. I knew I’d not regretted the choice, but ever since there’d been lingering doubt about if I’d made the right choice. That my answer came so quickly, and without a hint of remorse, was unexpected. “I mean, I don’t regret using the Force as I did to try and save Anakin. It’s just that, in doing so, in giving in to the offers of power from the Dark Side, I lost myself in them. By the time I regained control of myself, my actions, and the Force, it was too late, and Anakin was gone; lost.”

“As much as it might shock you to hear, your mistake wasn’t that you took back control, nor that you listened to the veiled false promises that came, not from the Force but from deep within yourself, but that you fought over the choice. That you fought against what you are, and what you were doing.” My head tilted to one side, wondering where he was going with this. “The Dark Side isn’t, as the Jedi believe, some corrupted section of the Force in which one loses themselves because of their emotions. It is the true source of the abilities the Force grants us, though to fully use and appreciate it, one must learn to take command of it and oneself. However, to wield the power the Force provides, without being consumed by it, one must make a choice.”

“Jedi or Sith.”

“Yes. And no.” Adas chuckled, likely because of the confused look that flashed across my face. “To them, the choice is between Light and Dark, between right and wrong. Between letting the Force guide them, or using its power to shape the universe around you. The universe, as you have well discovered, isn’t a simple case of two sides to every choice, it is instead a symphony of, as much as I loathe the term, grey. The Force, as it flows and binds everything in the universe together, is likewise not something that can be simply categorized into two clear and distinct spheres of influence and choice.”

“Then what is it?” This wasn’t where I’d expected the conversation to go, but it was interesting and was helping ease my mind.

“Tell me, in your own words, how would you, using the teachings of the Jedi, describe the Force?”

I leaned back, thinking about every lesson that I’d had on the nature of the Force. Most of those had come from Fay, though Dooku and others had weighed in from time to time. While none had used simple metaphors to describe the Force, as it wasn’t something that could be easily distilled into such a thing, as I looked over the memories, I saw a common, recurring pattern develop. One that, when applied to a way to define the Force, brought forth a simple but detailed once you examined it closer, concept.

“The Force is a river, one that flows with a will of its own – as any river does – and cares little for those on its banks or within it. We, as beings able to draw upon and sense the Force, are the rare few who exist within the river. Those that cannot rest along the banks, able to see the river, but not understand what lies beneath, where the true power and nature of the Force resides. While we travel in the flow, we meet others as our paths cross. For some, the eddies of the water allow only the briefest of contacts, for others, the paths come close to being permanently intertwined. The Jedi teach that, when those paths pull apart, or disappear altogether, we must accept it, and go with the flow. The river, the Force, is the one that defines our path – our destiny – not us. We must release our feelings, and our opinions into the river and accept that no matter what apparent harm and devastation it brings, it has a path that will lead to where we would wish to reside.”

“Hmm.” Adas lifted a hand to his skull and tapped the base of his helm. “A far more opinioned and detailed answer than I would’ve expected for one raised by the Jedi. At least if I wasn’t already acquainted with you.” There was little in his calm, measured tone to suggest he disagreed with my description, but underneath that, I could sense hints of contempt for the ideals I brought forth. “The question is, do you, with all that you’ve seen, experienced, and done, believe, truly believe, that this is what the Force is?”

I took my time before answering, delving into my thoughts and feelings on the matter. “No,” I eventually replied, “not entirely. I mean, the description makes sense, but it feels as if I’m missing something.”

Adas chuckled. “That, my young apprentice, is why, when you’ve drawn upon the Force when you’ve taken command of it and made it do as you wish, you lose yourself within its power. You are working from a flawed perspective, and fighting instinctively against what you perceive as dangerous because your understanding is lacking. Your training, however ineffectual it was, as a Jedi makes it hard for you to delve into the river, to see and experience what lies at its base, and understand that, while an incredible power, with desires of its own, the Force isn’t always right. Blind faith within it, and where it is carrying you, leaves you unable to push the water, to shape the Force as you need and desire.”

My mouth opened, readying to challenge him about the dangers of the Dark Side, yet no words emerged. While I didn’t entirely buy what he was saying, any argument I might bring forth would have ready counters. I might, as much as I was worried by the idea at times, know that the Jedi path – be that the one followed by Fay, or that followed by the Order in general – wasn’t the perfect one for me, but I wasn’t here to argue over the merits of the Jedi or Sith philosophy. “Then,” I began, having pushed my arguments to one side, “how would you describe the Force?”

I might not have been able to see his face, but I knew Adas was smiling. “Using your analogy of the Force as a river, what would be its final destination?”

“To a sea…”

“Or an ocean,” Adas finished, which made me nod. “To keep with this comparison, then what the Jedi perceive and believe is a river that we all must travel down as the Force guides us is, to be polite, incomplete. A river cannot exist by itself, it is part of a cycle, and in the end, the river must end by entering the larger and dangerous entity of an ocean. The breadth and depth of this ocean is beyond the scope of any mortal to define and understand.”

“Then the Sith are as wrong about the Force as the Jedi?”

“In some ways, yes,” Adas replied with a chuckle. “The difference is that while the Jedi allow the currents to guide them down their river, they never understand that the ocean of the Force awaits to consume them for their false beliefs and what lies in its depths. They don’t understand the Force and place their faith in it. That, as with any force of nature, is a deeply flawed approach. Weather has no care for the creatures that inhabit its ecosystem; it only concerns itself, if it is concerned with anything, with the various patterns and systems it has control over.

“Many who claim to be Sith believe that to have the power they desire, they must dominate the ocean; bend it entirely to their will. That too is a fallacy, and often leads to those who attempt domination over the entirety of the Force to be driven mad.” He paused, making sure I was listening intently. I was, as was Fenrir who’d moved closer as Adas had spoken. “The other issue, and one I suspect you might fall for, is to believe that it is possible to use both ideals, of allowing the Force to blindly guide you but then assuming control when the destination or situation isn’t to your liking. That path leads to madness, and few if any beings can survive such a battle; one fought between themselves, their ideals, and the Force.”

“Then no matter what we do, we are doomed to fail?”

“Again, yes and no,” Adas said, and I swore he was looking at me as if I was a child. “One cannot trust the Force to guide them, nor believe they can dominate the entirely of it. Both those paths, and that of trying to do both, are false routes, designed to trap and control the weaker-minded fools. Those incapable of understanding the truth, accepting it, and then adapting to it.

“What one must do, if one wishes to survive the Force, is to understand that we have the power to alter, in some ways, the environment around us, without attempting to go too far, to do too much, or making no effort to affect our surroundings. Bend, shape, and direct the ocean’s currents around you, as best you can; channel them to what you need. The Force will accept this, as in the grand scheme, your actions, if done so alone, have no meaningful effect on the overall ocean.”

As metaphors went, Adas’ one wasn’t the worst I’d heard. Yes, he was, as expected, pushing for a darker path than I was taking, but he wasn’t promising the impossible. Nor was he suggesting I could have everything I wanted simply by dominating the Force around me. Going over the previous discussions we’d had, it was clear this idea worked better with his previous words than what I’d suspected. Those thoughts had, I could see now, been shaped by the Jedi and my preconceptions, about the Dark Side and the Sith.

If I understood his suggestion, his teaching, then to save Anakin, I would have to assume control of the Force around me and him, and use that to alter the flow of the water – the flow of the Force – enough that we’d once more be together. That made sense. However, another concept, one linked intrinsically to Anakin, came to mind.

“What of fate and destiny?”

Anakin was brought forth by the Force – possibly by Plagueis and Sidious attempting to assume control over the entirety of the Force – and thus was critical to whatever the Force considered as balance. My emergence in this universe, and the Force’s eventual acceptance and adaptation to me, meant I also was important, but I still believed my role was less critical than the one my son had.

While I’d had hints of the Force adapting to my presence, to shifting its currents, it was only on Naboo that I understood that fully. The death of Master Drallig in place of Qui-Gon was a clear one. While it was only a theory, I suspected the Force had hoped for Qui-Gon to teach Anakin, or at least considered it one of two ways he could go – the other being to eventually kneel before Sidious. In coming here, I’d presented another option, one I had deeply believed, was the Force’s favoured choice.

Thus, with Qui-Gon’s role in determining Anakin’s path to the Force’s goal abandoned, he lost importance to the currents. Drallig, due to his closeness to Serra – who flowed beside me in the ocean – had been positioned to ease the overall path of the Force in our vicinity instead. That idea wouldn’t ever bring comfort to Serra, but it did ease some of my guilt over Drallig’s death.

“Fate is a tricky thing,” Adas responded, bringing my attention back to him. “As much as many Dark Siders might wish to deny it, the Force has a path it wishes to take, and no number of actions taken by us can change the destination. We can, with skill, training, and power, alter the exact route taken to this destination, but we cannot divert the Force from its course. Attempting to alter the course and destination will see the Force react and counter the move of the one trying to subvert its intentions: be they Sith, Jedi, or any other who can call upon the Force.

“Now, the path the Force has taken, and the events that brings forth, often don’t align with the desires of those of us able to swim in her depths. The Jedi preach that we should simply allow these events to occur, that there is nothing we can do to alter them, nor should we attempt to.” My thoughts bounced to Qui-Gon and Drallig there. “A False Sith might attempt to bend the entirety of the Force to their wishes to alter the event. Again, a flawed and foolish choice. A True Sith, can with effort, desire, and power – something both you and your apprentice possess – alter that path enough that events occur in different ways. Often those changes are for our benefit, but not always. That is a sign we must understand, and however much it enrages us, accept. We can use the Force, we can shape its path, but we cannot ever hope to subsume its will, nor alter the course of something we will never truly comprehend.”

Adas paused and I sat back in my chair, letting his words sink in. This had shifted from what I’d expected quickly, yet what he said sounded more useful for me now, if I stepped back and looked at things as logically as I could, than a simple lesson on managing my anger.

“You don’t deny the Force around you can be bent to your will,” Adas said, regaining my attention, “but are struggling with the aftereffects of it not doing enough to help. Which leaves you with a choice.

“Do you accept the teaching of the Jedi and make no outward attempt to have the Force help you find your apprentice? Do you follow the path of the False Sith and attempt to assume direct control of every element of the Force across this galaxy and beyond? Or do you wish to learn how to use the Force to alter the area around you, to wield it to suit your desires without risking the madness that preys upon your fears?”