The weathered but nimble fingers lay folded, and near them on the dark gray surface of the table, as delicate but strong as tthe bone of some magical alien raptor, the smooth, silver-flashing handle of an ancient weapon rested.

The strong metal of the graceful cylinder glowed dully, as though subtly lit from within. The irregular pattern of darkness cast by passing shadows outside the alcove almost camoflauged the piece of darkned plyron that formed the ignition switch on the slim tool.

"Come closer, traveler."

The old man's voice was soft and hypnotic, imbued with the hidded but not faded strength of his long-ago youth. The young Jedi, cloaked in the shifting grey of a Disciple, found himself obeying.

The old man suddenly lifted the lightsaber from the table, belying yet not mocking the power of the small killer. He smiled as he felt it tug at his fingers, as though to escape his grasp, and he knew that the spirit of the builder and owner had never left it.

In a flash, the holocron cube that sat a few inches away from where the lightsaber had been suddenly lit up in a flare of crimson red, like some unnatural solar prominence. The light quickly deepened to a soft violet glow, and the men found themselves moving back in the awe spawned by respect and admiration.

"Greetings, Jedi."

The voice, although quiet and calm, rang more clearly through the cavernous room than a concussion rifle blast, but with the exotic sweetness of silver temple bells and forbidden spice. It was slightly husky with perhaps just a touch of the smoky sensuality for which this particular Jedi had been known. But despite all of this, the ageless wisdom of the sharpest, snowiest mountains and stormy skies still made itself known in that melodious sound.

An image formed from the violet mist, like a protostar condensing from a dark nebula. Streamers of the shimmering light fell away from the slender figure that glowed lavender in the darkness of the room, and like some sorcerer's illusion, the purple glow became a blue so pale it was nearly white.

Turan found his eyes widening as the clarity of the hologram was maximized automatically, and slowly grew to the lifelike but hardly imposing height of five feet and three inches. As the edges smoothed out, it became clear that they were looking at the image of a young woman.

Despite being so petite, the female was quite slender, but not even this could hide each new shaft of power that every shift of the light brought out. The way she held her head high and her back and shoulders straight spoke of considerable physical power, although this did not detract from her femininity.

The slim form was clothed in a black top that exposed her flat, smooth midriff, accentuated by the miniscule silvery ring that pierced her navel. The tight-fitting, velvety black trousers hugged her subtly flaring hips and accentuated the firm muscles of her long thighs. Her slightly large feet were shod in close-fitting boots of black bantha suede.

Moving up and past the full, firm bosom and deep cleavage, a cloak of black material was fastened at her right shoulder with a large silver brooch engraved with ancient symbols. A pair of black velvet gloves fit smoothly over her graceful hands, embroidered in silver at the cuffs. A belt made of three rows of thin silver chain and many tiny bells was draped low over her hips, and from it hung the lightsaber which the old man now held and a slender sporting blaster. Her long, dark hair fell in a single braid to her waist, shot through with black and silver ribbons. A circlet of pure silver metal engraved in tiny symbols fit like a battle helm over her head, keeping her short, feathery bangs out of her eyes and accentuating the sharply carved lines of her face and the glowing pink color of her lips. When the light shifted again, the veins of reconstructive medsteel that shot through the skin, bone, and muscle of her left arm became visible.

An odd energy seemed to fill the room as the woman stood there, smiling but not speaking. A flash went through the deep-set, incredibly dark eyes, and Turan looked down just in time to see the flash of white electricity that snapped between her fingers. A shift of wind blew the cloak back and made the six tiny silver hoops in the woman's visible right ear sparkle. As the males looked on, she held her palm out...and in it formed an orb that glowed eerily in the blue-and-white vision, swirling from within with odd white mists.

This is the story of the quest involving that same orb...or more importantly, what lies within.