| abstract | - PERAVE SYSTEM; ARKANIA; CZERKA CORPORATION'S HOTEL FOR THE PRIVLIEGED; "JEDI SUITE"ONE WEEK LATER Arkania's actually a pretty place once you get used to the endless hustle and bustle, thought Ennyl Imsan as she watched the many hovercars and other vehicles go to their chosen destinations from the "Jedi suite" she was staying in. Eighteen standard years of age, she had been tasked by Revan to protect and defend Arkania at all costs. Apparently, it was considered to be a great honor to the rest of the Jedi who had gone off to war along with her, but, she didn't feel it was right. Not that she couldn't handle the responsibility—granted the almost fanatical Arkanian scientists got on her nerves—she just couldn't comprehend why she was staying involved anymore. She had simply followed her best—and only—friend, a male Zabrak named Noh Har, to war. He had been imploring the Council for many years to do something about the Mandalorians, and that plea became almost omnipresent when his people's colonies were destroyed by the Mandalorians. When Revan had shown up and talked of helping the Republic, Noh Har had been one of the first to sign up. Feeling sorry for her friend, and going against the advice of her Master, a male Nosaurian named Klrel Memsis, she followed him into the coming fight. Unfortunately, Noh Har had expired early into the war, fighting in the airspace of Korda 6, a world thought to be neutral by the Republic. The Republic had gone there on a routine training exercise—to prepare for the real Mandalorians—but the Mandalorians had been waiting in hyperspace like a Corellian sand panther about to strike its prey. (It is unknown how the Mandalorians had known of the fleet exercise, but some suspected several corrupt Senators who knew of the action beforehand.) Needless to say, the exercise was followed by a terrible, morale-killing retreat. Noh Har had died when his squadmate had lost him in the turmoil and confusion, and found himself the easy target of eager Mandalorian guns. That was the day Ennyl had finally lost her childlike innocence. Noh Har was dead and the whole war became a useless, almost vestigal thing for her. What did it matter? she had asked. Why am I here? What possible purpose could I serve in this Force-forsaken Galaxy? Granted, Arkania was a little aways from the actual battlefront, but it was still too close for Ennyl's state of mind. Maybe that was why Revan had sent her here; to help her find a way to salve her pain and frustration. It made sense, she would expect no less from a man so passionate in his resolve for what he thought was right. The voice of her assistant, a female Snivvian named Wineifor, broke her silence. "General, I have an important message for you." "Please give it to me—and the name is Ennyl, not General," said Ennyl with her best pazaak-face. She couldn't let her mood ruin the morale of any of her troops. "A Republic taskforce is on its way here to fortify the planet further. They are led by Captain Forn Dodonna." That was a little strange, thought Ennyl. Arkania's nowhere near the front. What's going on here? Instead of voicing her opinions, she said. "What could they possibly hope to do here? We're not exactly close to the action." "They weren't clear as to why Revan had sent them here," Wineifor replied. "There is also a rumor that they are being led by one of the best Jedi pilots in the military, a male Falleen by the name of Crisan Asle. From what I'm told, he's a bit of a beserker, some would say down right insane when it comes to battle, but he gets the job done." "That's just what we need around here, another maniac. As if those 'mad scientists' weren't enough trouble for me—I mean us." "A slip of the tongue, I'm sure. Be careful when you're around him, General. Falleen have special pheromones that are known to impair even the greatest of stronged-willed minds, so that the recipient falls in love with them. Hopefully, he'll be more of a Jedi in that aspect of his life, although I recall that Jedi aren't supposed to go to war either." "No...we're not...
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