He was eight years old.  He was cold.  He was dirty.  He was hungry.  He was tired.  All he wanted to do was find something to eat...anything...find something to wrap himself in, find a hiding place that would be safe, and sleep.  Sleep for a long time.  Sleep forever.  Crying about his problems made no sense.  Nothing was gained by crying, only lost.  Crying down here showed weakness, and the kind of people that roamed this deep into the underbelly of Coruscant thrived on exploiting weakness.  In their line of work, it was a necessity.

     Renn had been sent out hours ago to find food for him and his mom, who was too sick to even leave her bed.  Taking her to a doctor would be pointless.  They had no money and the doctors wouldn‘t accept them.  And more importantly, they had no way to get up to a doctor.  There was nothing he could do to help his mom.  All he could really do is what she asked of him.  And what she asked now was to find some food.  He didn’t want to come home empty handed.

     He skirted along the walls of the alley, hiding in the shadows created by speeder bikes, garbage and crates.  Down here, one learned to hide and live in shadow, or one didn’t live at all.  He was good at hiding, too.  When people were looking for him, if he wished it enough, no one could find him.  Many species crowded the darkened streets.  Quarren, Ishi Tib, Sullustans, a couple Bothans, and one Twi’lek.  As he scanned the streets looking for food, the Twi’lek turned and stared at him.  It was a piercing stare, but not menacing.  He was suddenly put on guard, though, because he could tell from the Twi’lek’s eyes that the man wasn’t staring at him, but through him, inside him.  It scared him.  So he did the only thing he could think of....he ran.

     He ran down streets and alleys, weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic, which was somewhat easy because of his size.  He ran as fast as his little feet would carry him.  He used turbolifts to descend to lower levels, took dangerous back alleys, anything to get away from that Twi’lek.  After what seemed like an eternity of running he stopped to catch his breath.  He huddled in a dark corner, arms wrapped around the knees that were pressed against his chest.  He was shaking, shivering, and scared.  The Twi’lek had probably planned on killing him, that was it.  The alien was probably hungry or something, figured he would make a nice little meal.

     No, that wasn’t it.  The Twi’lek’s eyes hadn’t carried any anger or malice, or hunger.  They had been sizing him up.  Judging him.  Deciding.  He didn’t like it.  He didn’t care if the alien hadn’t been trying to kill or eat him, he was just glad to be away from him.  Just glad-

     Then the eyes were upon him again.

     He couldn’t see them.  He was still hidden behind a large crate.  But he could feel the eyes.  Watching him.  Judging him.  He carefully stood up and peeked over the edge of the crate.  Lo and behold, less than ten meters away was the Twi’lek, his alien eyes locked on him.  He didn’t know how the alien had found him, or been able to follow him.  No one had ever been able to find him when he was hiding.  He was great at running and hiding, it’s what he did best.  He would have to try again.

     Without thinking another thought, he dashed out from behind the crate and tore down another alley.  He sprinted and sprinted, making erratic turns and taking unusual paths.  Anything to escape his stalker.  In fact, the weirder the path the better.  The harder to follow.  After five straight minutes of running, jumping and sprinting, he stopped.  Before he could even turn around, though, the eyes were back upon him.  He ran.

     This time he had a plan, though.  His mother had a small hold out blaster hidden underneath her bed, for protection.  Down here one needed all the protection he could get.  If he could make it home before his stalker caught up to him, he could get the blaster and shoot him as he came through the door.  So he ran.  And ran.  And ran.  Ran away from his stalker, ran away from his problem, ran home.

     Home was a dirty, empty shell of an apartment.  He imagined that many years ago it was probably nice looking, back when this level of Coruscant was the top level.  That long ago.  Now, though, the apartment was dark, filled with dirt and mold.  It smelled.  There was no point in cleaning it up, though.  Nothing short of a turbolaser blast would be able to get the dirt and grime off these walls and floors.  Small rodents with long snouts clamored about his home, squeaking loudly, running over his feet.  He didn’t care.  He was used to them.  He called the biggest one Trumpy.

     Instantly upon entering his dingy home, he knew something was wrong.  It didn’t feel right. He ran towards his mother’s room, but stopped several feet away.  There was a long bloody streak running out of her room and down the hallway.  He crept down past the door, not bothering to look in as he passed.  He knew there was nothing to see there.  His heart racing, he followed the path of blood on the ground.  As he turned the corner, he could hear his own heart beating, feel the intense thumping in his chest.  Then he saw her, huddled in a ball at the end of the hall, bleeding profusely from her stomach.  He rushed over to his mother, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her.  She was still alive, but barely.    

     A sound behind him caught Renn’s attention.  At first he thought it would be the Twi’lek, but even before turning around he knew it wasn’t him.  He turned around and glared at the man standing in front of him, blaster in a holster on his side, bloody knife in his hand.  He stood about two meters tall, his long hair as dirty and grungy as his own.  His face was filthy and he couldn’t tell if the man had a beard, or if the dirt was just stained on his cheeks.  His name was Gresko.   

     “There you are, boy,” he gruffly said.  “I’ve been looking for ya.  Your mom there wasn’t very forthcoming with telling me where you were.  I’ve rectified the problem.  She won’t be telling anyone anything now.  Get over here, you’re coming with me.”  The man sheathed his knife, then stepped forward to grab him by his arm.  He pulled away, though, backing up so he was only a step in front of his dying mother.

     “I’m not,” he adamantly stated.

     “You are,” he responded.  “There are people who want to meet you.  Now get over here before I have to hurt you.”

     “I’m not going with you,” he said, standing his ground.

     “You don’t have a choice.”

     “One always has a choice,” came a new voice.  A calm voice.  A comforting voice.  Both he and his mother’s attacker turned their heads towards the source of the intrusion.  Striding slowly down the hallway, arms folded inside his robe, was the Twi’lek.  He stared deep into the Twi’lek’s eyes, but they were different now.  They weren’t piercing or judging him.  The eyes had made a decision.  The Twi’lek continued. “Choices are what make up the universe.  The choice to produce, the choice to destroy.  The choice to be a farmer, the choice to be a solider.  The choice to run away and live, the choice to stay and die.  Our choices make up not only the universe, but who we are in that universe.  Who are you in this universe?  A farmer or a solider?  A producer or a destroyer?  Do you want to run away and live?  Or do you want to stay and die?  The choice, as always, lies with you.”

     The attacker’s jaw locked as he glared at the Twi’lek.  “Stay outta my head,” he grunted.

     The Twi’lek looked appalled at the suggestion.  “Me?  Inside your head?  My, my, you humans are so paranoid.  Don’t you trust that you’re in charge of your own actions?  Do you not trust your own mind?  Do you really believe I need to influence your mind to neutralize you?”

     “Get out of here, Jedi,” the man growled.  “This is no business of yours.”

     “I beg to differ,” he said, stepping closer.  “You were trying to kidnap this boy.  That is my business.  And just as you have your choices to make, I have mine.  I have made the choice to not leave.  Now has come the time for you to choose, as well.  So choose.”

     And choose, he did.

     The attacker reached over and grabbed Renn by his neck, taking out his bloodied knife, preparing to jam it in Renn’s neck.  Before he could do that, though, the Twi’lek waved his hand and the knife went flying through the air behind them. 

     “Wrong choice,” the Twi’lek said.

     This time he reached for his blaster and pointed it at Renn’s head.  But with another wave of the Twi’lek’s hand, the gun went sailing through the air behind them, never getting off a shot.

     “Strike two,” the Twi’lek muttered sardonically. 

     Now the attacker, infuriated by his failures, seized Renn’s head and placed one hand on his jaw, the other on the top of his head.  “I’ll snap his neck if you take one step closer, Jedi,” he threatened.  “Nothing to throw out of my hands this time.”

     The Twi’lek let out a long, exasperated sigh.  “I really am sorry about this.  I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”  No sooner had he said the words then he threw out his arm again.  Except this time Renn felt a wave of air crash into him and he went flying backwards and out of his attacker’s hands.  He landed hard with a thud on the back of his head, near the weapons that had also been thrown from his attacker’s hands.  Renn looked up, the wind knocked out of him.  His vision was slightly blurry, but he could still see the man attacking the Twi’lek with his hands and feet, throwing wild punches and kicks.  The Twi’lek, though, effortlessly defended himself, as if the man wasn’t even a challenge.

     Renn looked over at his mom, and instantly regretted so.  She was gone.  Her eyes no longer carried with them any sense of life or being.  There burned no flare of existence.  They simply were there, staring off into an existence that was oblivious to him, one he could only see once he too was dead.  One he didn’t plan on seeing for a while.  One, however, that his mother’s murderer would see very shortly. 

     Without thinking, he grabbed the knife from the floor, the one still soaked with his mother’s blood, and charged at the murderer, putting all of his hate, rage and anger into a primal scream.  The man tried to turn around before Renn was upon him.  The Twi’lek tried to reach over and stop him.  They both failed, and Renn jammed the knife as hard as he could into the spinal cord of the murderer.  The man also let out a scream, though this one was filled with anguish, pain and suffering.  Both screams sounded the same, though, and after the fact, he realized that it was the same scream.  After all, hate, rage and anger brews from anguish, pain and suffering.

     The murderer took one final gurgle, blood dripping out of his mouth, before he fell to the ground, knife still jammed in his back.  He struggled for a second on the ground, and let out one final cry, followed by a word. 

     “Elim...”

     Then he ceased moving.

     Renn stared into the murderer’s eyes and was pleased to see the same thing that he saw in his mother’s eyes.  Nothingness.  Emptiness.  Death.

     He dropped to his knees, his legs suddenly unable to support his body.  He was shaking all over, but this time not from the cold, or famine, or weariness.  The Twi’lek walked over to him, a somber but sympathetic expression on his face.  He knelt down and wrapped his arm around Renn.  For whatever reason, the man’s touch seemed to comfort and support him.  It made him feel less...bad.  Less guilty.  Less like the murderer he knew he was.

     “You knew him?” the Twi’lek suddenly asked, apparently picking up on his thoughts and emotions.

     Renn nodded weakly.    

     “Your father?” he asked.

     He nodded again, but this time burst into tears.  The Twi’lek wrapped his arms around him in a comforting hug as Renn cried into the alien’s shoulders.

     “I won’t lie and tell you everything is all right,” the Twi’lek said.  “But I will tell you that things can be better.  Come with me to the Jedi Temple.  You have nothing left for you here.  Only pain and misery lives in this place.  And death.  That is no place for a young boy.  You can have better, my dear boy.”

     The Twi’lek let go of him, stood up and walked down the hall.  At the end, he turned around and stared back at Renn.  “But, of course,” he said.  “The choice is yours.  There is a time for running, a time for hiding, a time for living, and a time for dying.  When I first saw you today you chose to run, and then you chose to hide.  You have one more choice today, my boy, and it could very well be your last if you don‘t choose wisely.  Life or death.  The simplest choice one can ever be given.  So choose.”

     And choose, he did.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

     The white left him, fading away until objects in front of him started to blur into focus and become clear.  He was still tied to a cold, hard steel chair, sitting in front of a desk, which was sitting between him and Zarin.  Zarin was staring at him, dissecting him with his cold eyes, seemingly fascinated with his prize.

     Reno was sweating.  He realized it first when he felt it trickle down his face.  At first he thought it was blood, but then some dripped into his mouth and the saltiness of his sweat gave it away.  Reno sat there, dumbfounded at what had just happened.  He hadn’t just remembered that distant memory, he had re-experienced it.  He had once again been eight years old, scrambling along the streets of Coruscant desperately searching for food for his ailing mother.  He had been there again, in his mom, staring at his mom as she died.  He had stabbed his father in the back again, and stared into his eyes with joy and glee as he watched all life drain out of him.

     “What was that...?” he managed.

     “What did you see?” Zarin asked back, excitement filling his voice as he ignored Reno’s question.

     “What did you do to me?” Reno asked.

     “I did nothing,” Zarin whispered. 

     “Why did you make me relive that?” he yelled back, as loudly as he could manage.

     “I didn’t make you relive anything, Renn,” Zarin said.  “You did that.  If you want to yell at someone, yell at yourself.  Now what did you see?”

     “Take this thing off me,” he said, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the yelling.

     “I’m afraid that is impossible at this time.  What did it show you?”

     “I said to take this thing off me, right now!”

     Zarin leaned back, disappointment evident on his face.  “There you go again, Renn.  Letting your emotions get the better of you.  Letting them choose your actions and words.  You never could control yourself.  Yell all you want.  Scream, if you can.  I’m not taking them off.  They are essential to our being here.”

     Reno bowed his head in defeat.  He has lost this round, and he knew it.  “What are they, then?”

     “A fascinating little device I picked up a couple months back,” Zarin said while grinning.  “Engramatic interociters.  You put them on your temples, and it digs into that little part of your brain that stores memories.  But as you have no doubt figured out by now, it doesn’t just let you recall memories, it makes you relive them.”

     Reno’s mind quickly flashed back to something Zarin had said minutes (or was it minutes?  How much time had passed during his reliving?) earlier.  “Besides, those aren’t pain givers.  The initial calibration is slightly painful, but from now on the only pain they’ll give you is from the pain you already have inside of you.”

     He suddenly understood.

     And judging by his face, Zarin could see he understood.

     “I saw my capture yesterday, before you had put the device on.  It wasn’t a dream.  I relived it.  You used this on me before?”

     “I tried it yesterday, on the trip here.  It wasn’t working quite properly, so I had to take it off and adjust it.  Rest assured, it is working perfectly now.  That was just a trial run.”

     “You’re going to make me relive my life...” he mumbled.  “Why?”

     “Because despite what you might think, I am trying to help you.”

     Had he the power, Reno would’ve laughed at the statement.  “You’re trying to kill me,” he said back.

     Zarin seemed amused by this proclamation.  “Do you honestly believe that?  Do you think I am doing all this simply because I am trying to kill you?  I could’ve blown you out of the sky when you attacked us.  I could’ve killed you any number of times since, and there is nothing you ever could’ve done to stop me.”

     “You want me dead,” Reno stated.

     Zarin nodded this time.  “I won’t deny that.  But wanting you dead and trying to kill you are two different things, aren’t they?  I do want you dead, but I am not trying to kill you.  As I said, I am here to help you.  I am here to ease your pain, take away your burden, and show you who you truly are.  What you truly are.  And what your life has all been about.           

     “I am Reno,” he boldly stated.  “I am a Sith.  And my life has been about conquering, about dominating, about fulfilling my dream.  I set out to create a squadron of fully trained Sith pilots, and I have done that.  I know full well what my life has all been about.”

     Zarin bowed his head and stared down at his desk.  When he looked back up, Reno was surprised.  Zarin wasn’t angry, or furious at Reno’s defiance.  He was...sad.  His face carried a look of regret, disappointment, and pity.  “It pains me,” he started slowly, “that you actually believe all that.  That you can defiantly state “I am Reno, and I am a Sith!” without feeling the guilt that is no doubt present in your mind.  That you can honestly claim Sith Squadron was your goal, your motivation, your dream, when we both know that isn’t true.  And that is why we’re here, Renn.  We’re here to find the truth.  The truth to who you are, to what you are, to why you are.  You’re lost.  You’re lost and you don’t even know it.  I’m here to help you find your way.”

     “I don’t need or want your help.”

     “The truly lost never do.”  Zarin stared at him.  “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me what you saw.  It is critical that you tell me about the first piece, if we are ever to figure out the puzzle that is...you.  Only if we both know all the pieces can this be solved.”

     Reno contemplated telling him everything.  About the Twi’lek, the running, his mother, his father, the first blood he ever had on his hands, and his choice.  It would all be so simple to tell him, to appease him just for now.  Reno knew he couldn’t escape, not now.  Defying him at this moment was pointless.  Defying him would serve no purpose other than to prolong his suffering.  No…no, there was a point.  If Reno was defying Zarin, then he was defying Zarin.  That was point enough to do it.  As long as he defies him, he isn’t giving in.  He can’t afford to give in.

     Reno remained silent.

     Zarin sighed again, a sound that was becoming all too familiar.  “Very well.  You shall stay here tonight.  I imagine it will get quite cold.  It always does.  As well, your rations will be destroyed.  You will not eat another ounce of food nor drink another drop of water until you start to cooperate.  And keep in mind...I don’t have to be here for the memory device to operate.  If you think about something too strongly during the night, you will relive it.  Whether you want to or not.  And don’t bother trying to take them off.  If they are not taken off properly, they can cause permanent brain damage.  It might even kill you.  Well...I will see you tomorrow.”

     And with those final words he stalked off, leaving Reno all alone in the large chamber.  No, not alone.  He had his memories.  His harsh, painful memories...

     “What do you mean I can’t train him?” the Twi’lek asked, his usually calm voice being betrayed by disappointment and surprise.  His name was Kren Doneeta, Renn had later learned.  In the name of his people, though, he was called Krendon'eeta, which loosely translated as “Angel of Mercy”.  Renn couldn’t disagree with the name. 

     They were still at the Jedi Temple, days after the incident with his parents at his former home, during which time he had spent most of it away from Master Doneeta, but always in the presence of a Jedi Master. They were all nice to him, but wary.  He didn’t know why.  He and Doneeta stood in the Council Chamber of the Jedi Temple, but not alone.  Master Windu was there, his face stern, his voice authoritative.  He sat in his usual seat, while Renn and Doneeta stood in the middle of the circular chamber.

     “I thought the statement was rather self-explanatory,” Mace coolly replied.

     Renn let his mind wander as he took in the fantastic view of Coruscant from the Council Chamber.  He had never seen anything like it before, never knew there existed a view this beautiful on Coruscant.  He had only seen the darkened, lower levels.  In fact, this was the first time he had seen natural sunlight, and the sky.  The brightness of it took a bit of getting used to.  While making their way to the Temple, he had also realized how pale and white his skin was compared to others.  Down below most everyone was pale from lack of sunlight.  He never gave it another thought.  But up here, among the people who walked in the sun, he realized that he his paleness wasn’t normal.  He was afraid that his skin would stay that way, but Master Doneeta assured him he would get darker in time.

     “That’s not fair, Master Windu,” Doneeta protested.  “His midi-chlorian count is high enough, and we have taken people older than he, under circumstances.”

     Mace nodded.  “It’s not his age or midi-chlorian count we protest, though,” he countered.  “He’s seen too much darkness, too much anger.  He’s eight years old and already has blood on his hands.  His own father, too.”

     “Master, I told you the circumstances in which it happened.  It was self-defense.  His father killed his mother and tried to kill him.”

     “What it sounded like to me,” Mace said slowly, “was vengeance.  Pure and simple.  He got angry at the loss of his mother and his first instinct was to lash out and take revenge.  To kill.  That isn’t the Jedi way.”

     “That’s because he doesn’t know the Jedi way...yet.  I can teach him.  Give me the chance.”

     “And what if you’re wrong?” he asked.  “What if he can’t be taught?  What if he is already too far down the path to be brought back?  You were wrong once before, Master Doneeta.  Mistakes were created so they can be learned from, not ignored.”

     Renn didn’t understand the reference, but it clearly shook up Master Doneeta for a second, as he was slow to respond.  What had he been wrong about before?  What mistake had he made that Master Windu thought he was making again?  Regardless of the comment, though, Doneeta continued on, un-phased.

     “I understand your concern, Master Windu.  It is nothing that I haven’t thought before, a million times over.  However, he’s only a child, Master Windu, there is plenty of time for him to unlearn what he has learned.  We can teach him.  I can teach him.  Let me have the opportunity.  Let me have another chance.” 

     Mace hung his head low and closed his eyes.  When he finally looked back up his face wore an “I’m going to regret this” expression.  He let out a long sigh.  “Very well.  I’ll talk to the rest of the Council again.  If they agree, you can train him.  But know that if they do approve, he will be watched very closely.”

     Doneeta nodded.  “Of course, Master.  Thank you.”

     “This isn’t a sure thing, Master Doneeta.  Don’t thank me yet.”

     “Of course.”                  

     With those final words, Doneeta ushered Renn out of the Council Chambers.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

     He awoke.

     The cold wasn’t bearable.  Frankly, he didn’t know how he had survived so far into the night.  Despite being indoors, there was no heat here.  None at all.  It was as if the wind just blew right through the walls.  A cold, biting wind that soon left his exposed skin numb and his covered skin not much better off.

     He tried his best to keep his mind on something else...anything else.  He tried to think of his squadron.  His noble band of drunken Sith pilots.  He had never missed anyone so much as he missed them now, not even his own parents.  Through their odd and quirky personalities, they always made dire situations seem better than they truly were. 

     Thunder and Jen...the best comedy team in any fighter squadron anywhere.  He had known them longer than any of the other Sith currently around.  Their petty bickering and constant feuding (over alcohol, bets, men, etc...) were always refreshing.  Well, not always, but sometimes.  Well...maybe not sometimes, but occasionally it was entertaining.  Actually, now that he thought about it, it kinda pissed him off more than it entertained him.  They always contradicted him, made fun of him, laughed at him...in fact, one time he remembered (though try as he might not to) they fasted scarves to all of his outfits, so no matter what he chose to wear he had to have a scarf on.  It made for an embarrassing week.  Come to think of it, they really were kind of annoying.

     What he wouldn’t give to have one of them around to tell him what a pain in the ass he was...

     He didn’t have to really wonder what Seven was doing.  There was a 99% chance he was hitting on Palin at this very moment.  And there was a 100% chance that she was kicking his ass this very moment.  He hardly ever remembered seeing Seven without at least a couple bruises or a black eye. 

     Jace was trying to find Reno right now.  He had absolutely no doubt about it in his mind.  Jace was probably the most loyal person Reno had ever met, maybe even a little too loyal.  Sometimes he’d contemplated ordering Jace to run into a wall just to see if he would do it.  Blind loyalty or not, though, he knew that he could count on Jace until the bitter end.

     Narska Plo’kre was a Bothan.  What more needed to be said about him?  He had never sensed any open treachery or deceit from the Bothan (well, no more than was usual for one of them).  He would trust him, for now.  Until the Bothan showed he couldn’t be trusted anymore.

     Reno really didn’t know the others that well.  Skate and Star had been recruited by Seven and Palin during Thunder’s brief journey to Adumar.  After Thunder returned, she immediately took a leave of absence and came back with another recruit, Fox.  And right after she got back from her leave, he and Thunder went out on the mission that got him caught up in this mess.        

     Reno was glad he thought of that, because it gave him something to focus on (though not too much, else he risked reliving it).  There were three unknown factors on the SSD right now...Fox, Star and Skate.  The two former he had no reason to distrust, but the same couldn’t be said for the latter.  By chance or design, it was Skate who had relayed to him the information about a small, but vulnerable shipment of Whyren’s.  But soon after, Ryvo Lorell had called him and told him about another freighter, loaded with Whyren’s, which had ended up being an ambush, which got him a first-class ticket to Rhen Var.  It had been a much more lucrative piece of business, so to speak, making Skate’s message pale in comparison. Ryvo Lorell was a kid who Reno had had dealings with in the past, all now obviously a string of confidence building exercises.  And Skate’s message…perhaps the timing of the two tips and the contrast between them weren’t coincidental, but a psychological ploy to ensure that Reno would go after the more enticing freighter and walk right into a trap.  He entertained the notion for a moment that Skate could be a traitor, just waiting for the correct moment to strike.  If it were true, she already captured him.  From there, it would probably be easy to set up the whole SSD for any ambush.  After getting an up close and personal look at the TOS, he was sure it would be an equal match for the SSD.   But could Skate be a traitor?  If Reno ever got back to his squad, he would damn sure find out.  And if she was...

     A strong, harsh wind blew throughout the empty building, causing Reno to involuntarily shiver.  By this time his muscles were clenched, knotted together and almost frozen stiff.  His skin was closing in on a pale bluish hue.  He could actually feel the ice forming on his face, no doubt hardening the beads of sweat that appeared on his brow after reliving the last memory.

     He didn’t mind the darkness so much.  Although he couldn’t connect to the Force, he didn’t feel like he was in any immediate danger of being attacked or anything.  There was no wildlife in the area around the training center, and he was sure that Zarin had locked the building up nice and tight, just in case.  Nothing was going to get in or out. 

     There was nothing in the room, he tried to assure himself.  Nothing in the room.  Only me. And I’m not nothing.  I’m something.  I’m a Sith Lord.  I’m Reno.  I’m a Sith Lord.  I’m Reno.  I’m a Sith Lord.  I’m Reno...

     And so throughout the rest of the night he continued to tell himself that; continued to remind himself who and what he was.  However, by the time morning rolled around he found that he was no long sure he was trying to remind himself about who and what he was, so much as he was trying to convince himself.

     “I can’t do this,” Renn stated adamantly, staring with anger at the candle in front of him.  It was a very simple candle, resting atop a small saucer, the wick lit with a small flame.  His job was very simple.  Lift the candle off the saucer.  Very simple.

     Except that he couldn’t do it.

     He had been trying for a while, sitting cross-legged in front of the candle, his entire attention focused on the flame.  Master Doneeta sat opposite of Renn with his eyes closed, though it somehow felt as if he was staring at him.  Doneeta had a knack for doing that.

     “You are right,” he said softly, not opening his eyes, “You can not do it.  You are simply a human, and humans have no power.  Twi’lek’s have no power.  None of us has any real power.  We are flesh, we are bone, we are blood.  We are nothing.”

     Renn shook his head.  “I don’t understand.”

     Doneeta nodded, as if he were not surprised by this statement.  “You can not lift this candle, Renn.  Nor can I.  We are powerless.  The Force, however, is not.  We can not lift this candle.  The Force can.”

     “But...”

     “Stick your hand in the flame, Renn,” Doneeta said.  It was not a request, but a command.  And one that didn’t make any sense.  If he stuck his hand in the flame, however small it was, he would get burned.  Not badly, but still burned.  What was Doneeta playing at?  Was this a test?  Perhaps to see if he would blindly do any order Doneeta gave him, regardless of how stupid it sounded?  Could be.  Either way, he didn’t want to disobey his Master.  He had only been a Padawan for a few weeks.  He didn’t want to get a reputation for disobedience.

     With that, he stuck his hand in the flame, and just as quickly pulled it back out.

     “Ouch!” he yelled, as he massaged his hand.  “That hurt.  Why did you tell me to do that?”

     “Why did you do it?”

     “I don’t know.”

     “You trusted me?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then trust in the Force.  Don’t trust that you can move the candle.  Trust that the Force can.”

     Renn shook his head.  “I still don’t understand,” he said softly.

     To his surprise, Doneeta was not disappointed, nor was he angry or upset.  If anything, Renn would describe him as happy.

     “You will, Renn,” he said calmly.  “You will.”

     They continued to train for hours.  By the end of the day, Renn still couldn’t move the candle.  To his surprise, though, he wasn’t angry at himself, or disappointed.  He had been thinking about Doneeta’s earlier words and what they might mean.  So when the day was over, and Doneeta asked him why he couldn’t move the candle yet, he was ready with a response.

     “I cannot move the candle yet,” he said, “because I’m not supposed to move it yet.  This lesson was never about me moving the candle.  It wasn’t even about you teaching me how to move objects.  It was about me coming to terms with failing, and accepting that not everything is possible immediately.  It was about learning how to be patient.”

     There was no mistaking the smile on his face this time.

     “I knew I was right about you, Renn,” he said proudly.  “That was remarkably quick of you.”

     Renn decided to take a gamble on something.

     “Quicker than your last apprentice?”

     If he was surprised or shocked by the question, he didn’t show it.  Doneeta kept his emotions very protected.  He very rarely showed surprise. 

     “Again...remarkably quick, Renn.  Care to tell me how you surmised this?”

     “Master Windu mention that you had been wrong before in a situation like mine.”

     Doneeta nodded.  “A statement that I do not agree with.  I maintain that I was right in my choice.  Please, continue.”

     “You asked them for another chance.”

     “That I did.”  They sat in silence for a long moment.  Renn was starting to feel sorry he had asked, as Master Doneeta didn’t seem to intent upon sharing the information.  He was about to apologize, when Doneeta started to speak again.  “His name was Ferox.  I found him much like I found you.  He was only a small child...cold, homeless, hungry, dirty.  He had no life, except for waking up each morning, hoping that this would be the day he died.  Had I not intervened, he would’ve died long before he actually did.”

     “He died?”

     Doneeta nodded.  “About ten years ago.  He was only eighteen years old.  A child.  However, at the same time, not a child.  He was very angry, Ferox was.  Wild, undisciplined, uncontrollable, arrogant.  After years of living on the streets and being powerless, he just could not control the new powers he found he had.  Instead of using this new strength to heal his wounds, he used them to make more.  He could not control his anger and rage.  I could not control it.  In the end, he fell too far down the Dark Path.  I was forced to confront him, to stop him before he did any more damage, both to himself and others.”

     “You fought him?”

     Doneeta nodded.  “He could not best me in a lightsaber duel, however hard he tried.  He never could.  And giving in to his hatred didn’t help him.  It only hurt him.  He was far too out of control to fight well.  He couldn’t think straight.  After incapacitating him, I offered him a choice.  They were the only choices available.  He could either return to the Jedi Temple for healing, or he would have to be stopped...permanently.”

     Renn couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  This sounded like it was against everything the Jedi stood for.  “You killed him?”

     “I had to.  It is what he wanted.  It is what he desired.  It is all he would be satisfied with.  Ferox did not want to exist anymore.  And, so, he no longer exists.”

     “The Council...” he tried to say, before being interrupted.

     “...was not happy,” Doneeta finished.  “Of course not.  However, they also understood the situation, and saw that I had no choice in my actions.  They agreed that what I did was necessary, and that I had no other acceptable alternative.  That I had no choice.”

     “But Master...“ Renn started, a bit confused by Doneeta‘s statement about having no choice about the death of his Padawan.  “You taught me that one always has a choice in their actions.”

     Doneeta took a deep breath and looked Renn in the eyes, as if judging him, or sizing him up.  Renn didn’t know what to make of it.  Doneeta always seemed to stare at him.  Always examining.  Always judging.  Most times it didn’t make him nervous, at least not anymore.  This time, however, seemed different.  He didn’t know why, but it did.  Finally, the silence was broken, although the stare was not.

     “Remarkably quick...” Doneeta whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

     He survived the rest of the night without having any more flashbacks, if only because of the focused chanting he forced himself to do in his mind.  He found that if he focused on something that wasn’t a memory he could prevent himself from falling backwards in time.  He hadn’t liked re-experiencing Gresko and his mother’s deaths, and he had many, many worse memories in his past and he wasn’t too keen on reliving those either.

     He didn’t know how he had lived through the intense cold the previous night.  He had spent many nights on Rhen Var, but none exposed and trapped like this, unable to even wrap his arms around himself to preserve his body heat.  There were times when he had passed out from the cold during the night.  Not fallen asleep, but just passed out, probably from a combination of exhaustion and lack of food as much as the cold.  The one thing he knew for a fact was that he couldn’t survive another night like that.  It wasn’t just the cold, either.  He didn’t think he had the will or strength to do it.

     But that also put him in quite a predicament.  It was a fact that he couldn’t survive another night sitting here unprotected in this chair.  However, it was also a fact that he couldn’t continue to give ground to Zarin in this...this interrogation, or whatever spin-name Zarin had put on it.  And he couldn’t have it both ways.  It was one or the other, no two ways about it.  He either had to stand his ground and die, or retreat and give more ground to the enemy.  Once again, Reno had come to a crossroad in his life and once again it came time to choose a path.

     He heard a door close far behind him, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. Moments later Zarin walked past him and took his seat behind the desk.  He wasted no time.

     “How was your night, Renn?” he asked, his voice strangely bordering on friendly.

     Reno stared at him, trying his best to muster a hate-filled glare.  “...cold,” he finally muttered.

     Zarin let out a brief smile.  “I imagine so.  Your fault, though.  All you had to do was tell me what you saw and I would’ve transferred you to the old barracks, where you could’ve slept in a bed, with a blanket.  It wouldn’t exactly have been a five-star hotel, but it would’ve kept you from freezing during the night.”

     “I’m sure it would’ve,” he replied.

     “Well, no sense in wasting either of our time.  We’re both busy men and I’m sure you have as much to do today as I do.  All I want to know is what you saw last night.  If you refuse to tell me, refuse to work with me, then I’m afraid we have nothing left to discuss.  I will just get in my shuttle and leave you here, tied to a chair, all alone.  Take heart in that you wouldn’t suffer for very long.  A day, perhaps two.  If you’re very unlucky, three.  The cold would eat at you until you can take no more.  And here, on this barren, empty world, far away from anything remotely resembling civilization, you would die.  Away from your ship, away from your squadron, away from everything.  No heroic end or blaze of glory for you.  You would fade into the shadows, a forgotten memory in the annals of time.  Tolerated by some, feared by many, hated by most, but in the end, forgotten by all.

     “I know that isn’t what you want, Renn.  It’s not the ending you had always envisioned for yourself.  But it doesn’t have to end this way!  What I said right there does not have to come to pass.  That fate isn’t written in stone.  You have the power, Renn.  It isn’t in my hands anymore.  I’m not in control, you are.  Where this goes from here on out is decided by you.  It’s your choice, Renn...choose.”

     But before he could answer, he was enveloped in a bright white light.

 * * * * * * * * * * * *

     Renn had been in Jedi training for six months now.  Six long, hard months.  In some ways, Jedi training was far more trying than life on the streets ever was.  It deserved much more attention, focus and dedication.  It took him a while to adjust to the life, but after two or three months he was comfortable enough.  At first he was afraid that the other Padawans would tease him but he had received no harsh words directed at him, no discouragement from his peers.  If anything, they befriended and encouraged him.  He received most of his encouragement from his Master, though, Kren Doneeta.

     Master Doneeta was everything he had ever wanted in a father and never had.  He was kind and gentle, but strict when necessary.  He went far out of his way to catch Renn up to the rest of the Jedi children, though it would be some time before he was at their level.  His raw Force power was strong, but he lacked the skill and refined power of the other kids his age.

     Renn had a problem, though.  One thing he couldn’t seem to control were his emotions.  He was constantly losing control during sessions, not only letting his emotions judge his actions, but letting the wrong emotions judge them.  There were times where his anger simply took him over, making him nothing more than a Force-powered vessel of aggression.  Other times it was his fear that dominated him.  Fear was a path to the dark side, he had been taught.  And the cost of the dark side was too high; it wasn’t a price Renn wanted to pay.

     However, it was his anger, his fear, and his natural dark side that had brought him to where he was now: sitting quietly in the shadows of an alley, deep in the belly of Coruscant.  He wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the area, as he had lived here most of his life.  Nothing really seemed any different, though it appeared that an entirely new level of dirt and grime had layered itself upon the old.

     Two days ago while out on an exercise with his Master, Renn had heard a rumor.  The exercise he and Doneeta had been on had been a simple endurance test.  Renn had always had a strong endurance level; he had spent most of his life running from something down in the streets of Coruscant.  Renn had boastfully claimed that he could keep up with, if not outrun, his Master.  It wasn’t a race, per se, but he was to try his best to keep up with the Twi’lek.  Their course would take them down through the streets, around an entire city block, and back again to the Temple.  Renn figured it would be a piece of cake.  He had run further before, and always did so in quick time.  He had greatly miscalculated not only his Master’s level of endurance, but also his sheer quickness and agility. 

     From the moment they started, Renn knew he was in trouble.

     Doneeta had started out in a dead sprint, using his longer legs to jump out to a quick lead.  Renn tried the best he could to keep up, but he soon realized that he was absolutely no match for his Master.  Within minutes of starting he had completely lost sight of him.  He didn’t stop running, though.  He knew the course they were to take, even if he couldn’t see his Master.  However, that wasn’t to say he wasn’t eventually stopped. 

     Several minutes after he lost sight of Master Doneeta, he felt an odd tingling down the back of his neck, as if the hairs on the back of his neck had just decided to try their best to jump out of him.  No sooner had he felt that danger than he was knocked hard sideways when a blaster bolt exploded on the wall next to him.  He quickly recovered, though, and had turned to face his attacker.  The man could’ve been just any old bum off the streets, except for the freshly polished blaster he had held in his hand.  At the time, what he thought was odd was that the blaster was set on stun.  Whoever he was, he had wanted Renn alive.

     Although Renn had only been training for six months, the man didn’t last very long.  He had fired two poorly aimed shots at Renn before the young Jedi used the Force to pull the blaster from his hands.  The man hadn’t seem surprised that he could do that, so obviously he knew he was attacking a Jedi.  As if the shaved head and braid weren’t enough of a give away.  One quick shot on stun had been all he needed to put the guy away.  Whoever he was, a professional he wasn’t.

     His first thought had been to run for it, if not to continue his course than to run straight back to the Temple.  Eventually his Master would’ve showed up and he could’ve reported to him about the attack.  But something compelled him to stay and question his attacker.  So using the Force to help him, he had dragged him into a nearby empty building and binded him with some old rope.

     As it turned out, this attack was related to the previous attack on him six months prior, when it was his father who tried to kidnap him.  Both attempts had been to capture him, not to kill.  Someone, it seemed, wanted live Jedi.  It hadn’t taken long to find out that the would-be kidnapper was supposed to deliver his prize to a warehouse several days later, where he would meet a middleman, who would then transfer Renn to the buyer.  After he learned all he could learn, Renn left him tied up in the building.  He figured someone would eventually find the man.  Besides, taking him to the Jedi at this point would raise questions.  More importantly, it would ruin his plans.  This was the second time these people had tried to kidnap him.  He didn’t plan on letting them have a third opportunity.

     So here he now sat, stolen lightsaber in hand, waiting in a combat ready crouch in the shadows.  Waiting for the first sign of the contact that the kidnapper had described to him.  He gripped his stolen lightsaber tightly, feeling the sweat gathering in his palms.  Renn didn’t have his own lightsaber yet, though he had trained many times with practice sabers.  He wasn’t exactly a master swordsman, but he thought he could handle it.  He was sure of it.  This one he had stolen from his Master’s quarters.  It had been very hard sneaking out of the Jedi Temple, because every time he passed a Jedi he risked getting his emotions and thoughts picked up.  If even one Jedi caught on to what he was up to, his brief career as a Jedi would no doubt come to a swift and unspectacular end.  If he was going to go out, he at least wanted an end worthy of a Jedi.  Blaze of glory, and all that.  But he sure didn’t plan on going out here.

     The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention.  He backed further into the shadows so he wouldn’t be seen and stared at the entrance to the warehouse in front of him.  A man approached from down the street, at first shrouded in shadows.  Renn couldn’t make out any facial features.  The man looked around cautiously, then slyly opened the door to the warehouse and slide in.

     Renn’s plan was simple and straightforward.  He was going to go in there, neutralize the threat, and interrogate the contact in the same manner he had the kidnapper.  With any luck he could get all the information he wanted and be back at the Temple before anyone noticed he was gone.  However, he still had no idea what he was going to do with that information once he got it.  He supposed it would depend on what the man told him.  As soon as the street was clear, Renn ran over to the warehouse.  Gripping his Master’s lightsaber tight in one hand, he opened the door and entered the warehouse.

     The man was standing at the far end of the warehouse, his hands behind his back in an almost military like fashion.  He wore an expensive suit, which made him look incredibly out of place in this run down warehouse.

     As Renn walked further into the warehouse, the man stepped forward.  His expression carried a certain amount of surprise; no doubt he was expecting the kidnapper.  But despite his surprise, he still seemed pleased with Renn’s arrival.

     “I’m glad you made it, Renn” he said, sincerity leaking through he deep voice.  The man spoke to Renn in a familiar tone, as if he and Renn were good friends.  And for whatever reason - perhaps his manner or tone - Renn did believe that the man knew him.  “Will Mr. Natty not be joining us?”

     Renn assumed that Natty was the kidnapper and shook his head ‘no’.

     “Just as well,” the man said, no regret or sadness in his voice.  Mr. Natty obviously wasn’t very important to him.  Probably a hired gun.  “Well, I suppose I should introduce myself then.  I am Chief Advisor Teton.  I work for a man named Elim, who very much wants to meet you.”

     Elim?  That name sounded familiar.  That was the last word that Gresko had uttered before he had died.  What did Elim have to do with that?  Who was Elim, anyway?

     “Is that why he hired two people to kidnap me?” Renn blurted out.

     Teton shook his head.  “We did hire Mr. Natty to procure you, but the incident with Gresko was very regrettable, and also, not done by us.  I don’t have time to explain everything here, though.  So if you’ll just follow me, our shuttle to Velku awaits—“

     “I’m not going anywhere with you.  You’re going to tell me everything I want to know right here, right now.”

     “I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Renn.  I’m on a very strict schedule

     “Neither of us is going anywhere until I get some answers,” Renn adamantly stated.

     “As I said, you will get all your answers once we reach our destination.  But until then you’ll just have to trust me.”

     “That isn’t happening,” Renn told the man.  He could almost feel the tension rising in the building.  For a long while, Teton just stared at him, his dark eyes locked on Renn.  Even with the Force, he couldn’t get any kind of reading from the man.  Not that he couldn’t sense him, he just couldn’t discern what he was picking up.  The man was very calm, very cool, very confident.  He wasn’t afraid of Renn, even though he was a Jedi.  Renn couldn’t predict what the man would do next.

     “This is your last chance,” he finally said.  “Be warned that I have been ordered to bring you in at any cost.”

     Renn paused briefly before defiantly answering, “Consider me warned.”

     Teton sighed, looked down at the ground, and then whipped the blaster out from behind his back so quick that it was all a blur.  Renn was frankly surprised he was that quick on the draw.  The only problem was that Renn was just a bit quicker.  By the time Teton leveled the blaster and fired an arcing, blue stun beam, Renn had his stolen lightsaber out and in a ready defensive stance.  He deflected the blast with ease.

     Teton looked at Renn, surprise evident on his face. For the briefest of seconds Renn allowed himself the satisfaction of knowing that he had surprised Teton, a man who seemed eternally calm and ready.  He clearly hadn’t been expect Renn to have a lightsaber on him.  Teton was no fool, though.  He didn’t even bother firing more shots.  Nor was he stupid enough to turn his back on Renn and run.  He just stood there, glaring at Renn.

     “Well played,” he commented. 

     “You answer my questions now,” Renn stated as he threateningly waved his lightsaber around, “or the authorities are going to have a hell of a time identifying your body later.”

     “You’re making a mistake,” Teton said.

     “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

     “It doesn’t have to be this way.  Just come with me—“

     “Not gonna happen.”          

     “I won’t answer any questions,” he stated again.  “And I won’t allow myself to be captured.”

     Renn didn’t miss the implication.  Teton planned on either killing Renn, or dying himself.  But he had to know that he couldn’t kill Renn, not without a couple more people helping him.  Renn stretched out with the Force, but didn’t sense anyone near.  It was just him and Teton, and if Teton did what Renn thought he was about to do, soon it would be only Renn. 

     Then he sensed it. 

     He wouldn’t have picked it up had he not been reaching out already.  It was only by chance that he was able to sense it.  This was a serious complication.  Renn had to hurry and deal with Teton, for he didn’t have much time left.

     Kren Doneeta was looking for him.

     And not just looking for him, hunting him.  He was following Renn’s trail, or maybe even honing in on his presence.  Either way, Kren would be here in probably a minute or two.  Renn had to disable Teton and question him before his Master could arrive. 

     Teton suddenly broke for the rear door at a dead sprint.  Renn smiled but didn’t move to stop him.  He just focused on the Force and pushed the door shut.  Teton tried to open it anyway, but quickly realized it was futile.  The man turned around sharply, switched his blaster over to kill, and fired over and over again.  For a few seconds, Renn was slightly alarmed.  He had trained for hours with little remotes that shot low-powered stun shots....but this was wave after wave of deadly blaster fire.  One slip up and he wouldn’t live to regret it.  He realized belatedly that this was the first time he had ever been shot at.  Not the first time his life had been in danger, but the first time anyone had shot at him.  He found it exhilarating.  Fun.  Time to have some more fun.

     When Teton shot next, Renn angled his blade slightly so when the blast reflected back it hit Teton in his right knee.  The man dropped to the ground and yelped in pain, but he didn’t relinquish his grip on the blaster.  Instead, from his position on the ground, he continued to fire.  These shots were all horribly inaccurate, some not even coming close to Renn.  Using the same trick that Kren Doneeta had used to disarm his father six months ago when he had tried to kill Renn, he lashed out with the Force and knocked the blaster out of Teton’s hand. 

     The injured man attempted to crawl backwards, but he was unsuccessful, and Renn was soon upon him, swooping in like a hawk-bat upon its prey.  Renn twirled his saber, then brought it straight down in a stabbing motion, jamming it straight through Teton’s thigh.  Teton screamed in pain, one loud enough that Renn had no doubt anyone outside heard.  He was sure that Doneeta would pick up on his pain, too.  He would be here soon.  He had to finish this, and now.

     “Who hired you?” Renn asked.  “Who are you working for!?”

     “You should’ve just come with me,” Teton whispered.

     “Who hired my father?  Who wants me dead!?”

     “No one wants you dead, you fool,” he shot back.  

     “Then tell me what’s going on!”

     “You had your chance, Renn....” Teton said while shaking his head.  “You blew it.  Just like you’ve blown every other chance given to you.  You’re a failure, Renn!  You can’t do anything right!”

     “Shut up,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

     “Just kill me and get it over with,” Teton grumbled. 

     “You’re more valuable to me alive than dead,” he told Teton, through gritted teeth.

     “Just kill me!” he yelled.

     “NO!” he yelled back, his voice shaky and trembling.

     “You sorry son-of-a-bitch,” Teton snarled.  “We should’ve killed you when we had the chance.  Your father was wrong to keep you alive...I knew you’d be trouble.  Were it my call, you would’ve been dead years ago.  And your mother along with you!”

     And with those words, Renn reached his breaking point.  Something inside of him just snapped and he lost all semblance of self-control.  All the Jedi rules...all the Jedi codes...they meant nothing.  Ink on paper, that was it.  Platitudes.  Words.  And meaningless words, at that.  He didn’t care about repercussions, he didn’t care what happened to him anymore.  If he was kicked out of the Jedi Order, fine by him.  As long as he got the satisfaction of killing Teton...

     Renn raised his stolen saber high over his head, preparing to bring it straight down through Teton’s chest.  He wouldn’t just stab him, though.  He would leave the saber inside the wound and let the blade superheat his blood cells and melt his chest cavity.  He would die very quickly, but at least it would be very painfully.  As Renn prepared to deliver the deathblow, though, he felt another presence in the building.  It was Kren Doneeta.  He had taken too long.

     For the first time he could remember, he sensed fear in his Master.  He had never seen him afraid in battle before.  He was always calm, cool and relaxed.  When he had first seen Doneeta, the day Gresko had murdered his mother and was trying to kidnap him, the man had seemed so relaxed, even when Gresko had attacked him.  It was unnerving to see him like this.

     “You don’t want to do this,” Master Doneeta said, his voice desperate and hoarse.  He seemed to be out of breath, as if he had just run several miles.  He probably had just run several miles.

     “The hell I don’t,” Renn said.

     “Renn, if you kill that man, you’re starting yourself down a path that is very hard to return from.”

     “I don’t care.”

     “Not right now, you don’t...but you will.”  Doneeta locked his eyes on Renn, those dark, piercing eyes.  The ones that could see directly through him.  “Mark my words on that one, boy, you will.”

     “I am a Jedi,” he told Doneeta.

     “Not if you do this.  This is not the Jedi way.”

     “I am a Jedi,” he repeated.  “And as a Jedi, it’s my duty to rid the universe of people like him.  We are Warriors of the Light, and his kind aren’t worthy of even walking in our shadows.”

     Doneeta stared at him, as it he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.  The Twi’lek’s eyes were wide open, as was his mouth, and he was just staring at Renn, soaking in what he had just said.  After what seemed like an eternity, the Twi’lek spoke again.  He spoke slowly, his words carefully chosen.

     “Renn...sometimes the closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.”

     Renn stood there for a moment, his blade hanging over Teton’s chest, and thought about that for a moment.  Under normal circumstances he would’ve gave a damn about it.  He usually listened to everything that Doneeta said and gave it heavy thought.  After all, Doneeta had saved him from his previous life and handed him a new one.  It was the least he owed him, to listen to good advice every now and then.  This, however, was not what he would call normal circumstances, and considering the situation, he realized that Doneeta could spout out whatever Jedi philosophical crap he wanted to, it didn’t matter to Renn.  The only thing he knew, the only thing he cared about, was that Teton wasn’t going to survive the day.

     “Renn, listen to me,” Doneeta pleaded.  “It doesn’t have to be this way, it doesn’t have to end like this.  You haven’t crossed the line into darkness yet, your fate is still salvageable.  But only you can make this choice, Renn.  Only you can choose your path.  This is out of my hands.  Your fate is in your hands, my boy, and it’s time to choose.  So...”

 * * * * * * * * * * * *

     “...choose,” Zarin repeated, his voice stern and harsh.  “What did you see last night, Renn?”

     Reno sat there, his arms behind his back, his eyes locked on Zarin.  That’s all the man wanted to know...what the engramatic interociters had showed him last night.  All he had to do was tell Zarin what the devices had showed him, tell him about the time Gresko had killed him mother, and Reno had killed him in return.  It would all be so simple.  But that would be conceding again.  That would be giving Zarin more ground in their war, ground that he could not afford to cede.  He had to fight....had to stay strong....had to escape....

     Then it dawned on him.  Something Zarin had said, only a short while ago.

     “If you refuse to tell me, refuse to work with me, then I’m afraid we have nothing left to discuss.  I will just get in my shuttle and leave you here, tied to a chair, all alone.”

     Reno smiled inwardly.

     “I will just get in my shuttle and leave you here, tied to a chair, all alone.”

     Zarin had just made a mistake.

     “I will just get in my shuttle..”

     A big mistake.

     “...my shuttle...”

     He had just admitted to Reno that there was a way out of here, an escape.  That was the one thing you don’t want to do when interrogating someone.  Give them hope.  However, that wouldn’t do him any good unless he started cooperating with Zarin.  He was going to have to tell Zarin what he saw.  And it would have to be the truth.  Reno had no doubt that his former friend could easily tell whether he was lying or not.  Besides, what harm could telling him the truth do?

     “I...” he started slowly.  “...I saw myself on Coruscant.  I was young...”

     And so Reno told him everything, down to every last detail, feeling and emotion.  Told him about Gresko’s betrayal...his mother’s murder...the attempted kidnapping....the entrance of Master Doneeta into his life....his early training as a Jedi.....and the murder of Teton.  Zarin listened to every word with rapt attention, soaking it all in.  By the end of the story, Zarin was smiling.  Not out of enjoyment of the story...or Reno’s pain...but because he knew that he had won another round in their war.  Or, at least, he thought he did.  What Zarin didn’t see is that sometimes you have to take a step backwards in order to take two steps forward.  Reno would concede this round, but only because it would help him in the long run.  Zarin could do nothing with the information that Reno had given him, but Reno could do a lot with the extra time that Zarin was giving him.  He could use that time to devise an escape plan...steal Zarin’s shuttle somehow.  To escape, and return to his Sith.  Then everything could be right again.  Everything would be normal again.  Everything would be as it should be.