02 - Book of Respite: Heroes from Both Sides - Anchanted_One, Jaymiddle (2024)

Chapter 1: The Poltergeist

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

Nehatoml’s Shore, Glee Anselm
15 BTC

Devel Nirol always got picked last. He was the smallest Nautolan in the village, even smaller than Imalj, who was a year younger than himself. He was also the slowest runner and swimmer, always finishing over ten seconds after the second-last.

He was, in short, the one nobody wanted in their team.

And today was no different.

Mahimahi set the game this day, with a wild throw into the path. Gori caught the pass, and held the ball for the required thirty seconds before passing it to Hijel. Hijel had it tackled out of her hands by Nomai, who was tackled by Mahimahi, until finally, Surapa took the ball and evaded all attempts at reclamation by Mahimahi’s team. Surapa tossed the ball to Bego next, who almost made it to the full thirty seconds before Hijel took it out of her hands.

By this time, Devel was so far behind that he could no longer follow the game. With a sigh, he made for the shallows instead. Perhaps he could catch a frog instead, or a fish. Or perhaps he could mend a net, or watch the fires.

He hated being so weak. Shuka would often whisper how in the old days, children who couldn’t keep up with the groups in shoalskip used to be left behind to starve. But ever since contact with the Republic, the people had come to realize the value of lives, even ones that were, like himself, worthless.

Mother looked at him sadly as he emerged from the water, but was too busy to seek him out.

Father, on the other hand, seemed to be free for the moment. “Devel! I found a nice flower! Wanna see it?”

Devel, who normally jumped at such a chance, shook his head. Grandfather Biru ignored him, as he did most people these days. Grandmother Jeelia mumbled a prayer and smeared mud on the roots of his tentacles. “May you grow up to be strong and fast. This will not always be the case.”

Shuka looked over right then, and smiled while shaking her head knowingly. Her eyes held a simple message: ‘You will always be worthless.’

With a pitiful sob, Devel ran to his hut. Shuka called after him, “I see someone can run after all!” She laughed so hard that her chair broke beneath her.

*

It was the final hour of evening. Devel was checking the traps for frogs and fish.

The scented oils he’d rubbed on his face and arms kept the swamp bugs at bay, but made his gills itch. His ailment made him even slower than normal, and he was almost too late for supper. When he finally got back, the elders were setting up their floor mats, and the adults were bringing out large vats of bubbling food. Children were trying to stay silent, at least until Devel emerged from the shrubs.

They all started to point and snicker. Bego was the first to utter a remark loud enough for Devel to hear. “Devo! You’ve finally learned what speed is! You were moving so fast that none of us even saw you! If only you weren’t going in the wrong direction!”

The laughter was so loud that it might have been why the fires flickered.

“Ah, little snail,” elder Abarri said. “Did you find anything?”

“No, elder.”

Mother slapped the elder’s hand and said something that made her raise her eyebrows, btu Devel didn’t hear her apology. He tried sitting near grandmother Jeelia, but he saw several other children mouth ‘little snail’ at him.

He finished his food as quickly as he could and ran to his bedroll.

*

The youngsters were still chortling a quarter of an hour after Devel had run for his life. It was only the presence of the elders that kept the children from mocking him. But they couldn’t hold it in any longer. They waited for Devel’s parents and grandmother to leave before laughing at the ‘little snail,’ commenting on how he had, for once in his life, managed to run fast.

So busy were they in making their jokes, so eager to see the next day rising so they could begin a new round of torment, they failed to see the sticks rise out of firewood pile until they were hurtling in their directions. Everyone screamed bloody murder, but none were hurt: the sticks fell in perfect circles around the diners.

A few seconds passed by in shocked silence. Shuka was the first to scream again. There was an evil spirit among them! One of those that the shaman warned about! The jimnai—the Poltergeist!

The Nautolans rose and ran for their shrine, to pray to their mashno for protection and sanctuary. No one slept that night, and by the time dawn came, no one had the energy for anything but prayer and work.

*

The next night, the fish rose out of the baskets and began sailing around in the air like leaves on a breeze. They twirled, leapt, dipped, pirouetted, and somersaulted like performers in a circus, something the village saw once in five years.

This time, everyone prayed to the jimnai directly, begging it to spare them. The mischievous sprite departed after having its fun.

*

There was no rest for an entire month. One night, the spears and arrows shot out of their cases and landed in the mud, forming perfect geometrical patterns on the ground. Another, it was the vessels and spoons, which began preparing a meal without ingredients. Another time, the fruits began cutting themselves up. Without even a knife, they somehow split into thin, equally sized pieces.

About a fortnight after the first occurrence, the shaman called for assistance. None came.

Instead, the spirit began to approach the children directly. It played with their tentacles, hid their shoes, drenched their clean clothes in muddy water, moved their dolls at night, and whooshed their candles on and off. Repeatedly.

Shuka was the one in the loudest tears, always sobbing so hard that the fish and the frogs were startled away, forcing hunters and fishers to travel many kilometers to find waters with enough life for a good catch. More than one adult lost their patience with her for being an untuned trumpet.

Mahimahi tried to lift spirits by holding a ‘let’s tease Devel day’, but the session was cut short by all the shoalskip balls launching into the air and lightly thumping him on the buttocks and splashing much wet mud on him.

That evening, all the instruments in the village began to play themselves. They would continue to for the rest of the month, getting better with each day.

*

The Timely Arrival set down in the closest clearing to Nehatoml’s Shore… which was still five kilometers away from the village. The defender-class Corvette did have a speeder for such situations, but Jedi Knight Ven Zallow thought this was close enough. His Apprentice, thirteen-year-old Aryn Leneer, did not.

“Are we there yet?” She asked for the umpteenth time.

“Five steps closer than we were before,” Ven replied patiently. He loved his Apprentice like he would a daughter, and was perhaps more indulgent with her than he should’ve been. In return, she treated him like a father. She respected and cherished him, but did not shy away from showing signs of the infamous ‘rebellious phase’ that most humanoids tended to go through.

“Are we there yet?” she insisted.

“Two steps closer.”

“Are—”

“One.”

“We—”

“Half.”

“There—”

“Quarter.”

“Yet?”

He paused a few seconds.

“One step closer.”

Aryn sagged dramatically. “If it wasn’t for all this muck, I’d sink into the ground,” she complained.

“I’d say you’re in greater danger of sinking because you’re in the mud.”

She clutched his hand tightly. “Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you worried I’ll sink into a slimy mudhole?”

“Slimy? Mudhole? Aryn, I’m surprised at you! The Nautolans live here; they’re some of the warmest, most kindly and hospitable people in the galaxy! Are you really going to look down on their homes?”

“Well, no…” she said regretfully. She currently had a crush on a Nautolan youth, Ven knew. Was working her way to giving him her first kiss. “But it’s not good for me! I’m from Alderaan. I grew up on Coruscant. All this mud and wet is not for me. And these insects!” She swatted her face, probably missing the flies that flew around her head like a cloud.

“There’s a reason why we’re taking the scenic route, my young friend.”

“And what reason is that?”

“As a Jedi, it will be your duty to navigate a variety of worlds, each with their own unique terrains. The extreme heat of a desert or magma world, or a frozen ice planet like Alzoc III, or a swamp like this one. You will need to learn how to navigate them all. In some cases, you’ll need to plan beforehand. For example, a humanoid who’s known to be allergic to pollen might need extra shots and masks while visiting Felucia. Or a coldblooded being like a Trandoshan or Falleen cannot approach a world with extreme weather at all. I gave you insect repellents and antitoxins before setting out.”

“The repellents don’t work,” Aryn moaned.

“They’re working for me, aren’t they? You simply didn’t use as much as I told you to. Probably worried about the smell.”

She squinted at him with an openly jealous expression. “You don’t look affected at all, Master.”

“I’m good at adjusting to situations. It is my hope that you will be too, one day.”

“And you’re going to keep throwing me onto bug-infested, swampy worlds until I do so as well?”

“I’m going to take you someplace much less comfortable next time.”

Aryn looked appalled. “No, no, no Master! Anything but that! I’ll be a good girl! I’ll take less time in the bath! I’ll eat all my food without complaint! I’ll even… I’ll even stop putting sand in Jaric’s food… and itchy powder in his pants.”

“I’m amazed you can do that, despite your powerful empathic gifts. Jaric must really get to you.”

“Is that a yes!?”

“Just next time. But Aryn, my little girl, I still need to prepare you for your journey. We can’t avoid the hard lessons forever. None of us can. And the longer we wait, the harder it hits us when we learn it at last.”

“Do you have more repellent?”

Ven handed her his spare cannister. “This will cut down our stay on this world,” he warned her. “That’s only enough to last us a few more hours.”

“Shame.”

Ven sighed. Most Jedi learned to repel small lifeforms like bugs naturally, so he didn’t really need the bug spray. But he found it was better to use it, and not dedicate a portion of his strength and focus to such a mundane issue. Perhaps it was different in peacetime, but these days, the Sith could attack anywhere. He needed the extra awareness for the unexpected. “Aryn?”

“Yes, Master?”

“You have my permission to resort to Force Repulsion, if necessary. I’ll keep you safe, in case something happens.”

“The Sith won’t attack Glee Anselm, would they?”

“You never know. They have been known to launch raids for taking slaves. Or worse, to instill terror. Darth Bellicose is a good example. Always be prepared.”

“Yes, Master. Are we there yet—” her back straightened for a moment as she answered her own question, then bowed down in fear and anxiety.

“It’s got to be handy, being an empath.”

“Real handy,” Aryn agreed. “I can Sense their emotions before you can. But I’m also infected by them. They’re all so afraid! Terrified!”

“Yes. That’s why we’ve been sent to investigate. There are concerns that a Force Ghost has been awakened.”

“But what if it has?” Aryn whimpered. “There’s no way to hurt a Ghost! The best we can do is talk, and hope it moves on!”

“We could try moving the villagers. Sometimes, they refuse to leave a land they’ve lived on for generations, even when common sense dictates it. Or, we could try identifying whose ghost it is, thereby allowing us to return a little later with some knowledge about its desires or intentions.”

“Do you have any theories, Master?”

“There was a Force user in ancient times, one Mat Nehatoml. There are any songs and stories about his exploits. He was the first to found a temple on this world that worshipped something like the Force. The Temple of Nehatoml is many leagues east of here, but he is said to have passed on somewhere around here.”

“But if it’s ancient, it couldn’t be him, could it?”

“It’s not unheard of. Perhaps something woke him. Perhaps Glee Anselm is entering a very similar period as it did in his time, rekindling a whisper of his old self. Or it might not be him at all. It’s the closest thing I’ve got without assessing the situation. Now come, Apprentice. Dusk approaches, and the ‘jinmai’ is said to stir when the sun goes down.”

*

Everyone in Nehatoml’s Shore was tense and jumpy. They jumped and yelped at the slightest provocations. Baskets full of fruit and vegetables were dropped again and again into the wet soil, and game dropped into the bonfires.

“Strangers!” the sentry cried. “Strangers approach!”

The villagers were in no condition for a fight. They simply lined up, spears held weakly, and faced the direction the sentry was pointing. Moments later, a pair of humans emerged; a grown male and an adolescent female.

“Greetings, everyone. I am Master Ven Zallow, of the Jedi Order. This is my Padawan, Aryn Leneer. We’ve come about your ‘jinmai’ problem.”

“Oh, thank you, Master Jedi!” Elder Ben Hazzilin cried, prostrating himself before the newcomers. “We’re in desperate need of—”

The Jedi hastened to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please, raise your head, good sir. Jedi do not need such supplication. We are servants of the Force, and protectors of the innocent.”

By now, everyone had stumbled up to the man, and were weeping in relief. They truly believed that their troubles were at an end.

“Which one of you is the Chief, or Mayor?”

“I am,” Ben confirmed. He was a tall man who was starting to stoop with age, but he reckoned he had one or two good fights left in him still. Except, of course, against a jimnai.

He took the Jedi to the campfire, where they were served a simple meal of bread and fish along with green tea. To his relief, the humble offerings were appreciated. The girl, in particular, seemed to enjoy every last morsel. Jeelia gladly gave her second helpings, along with a few dumplings.

“It’s alright,” she said cheerfully. “The swamp provides plentiful bounty for us. We will go to bed with full bellies, even if you have five more servings.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” the young girl, Aryn, cried, grasping Jeelia’s hand with her free one. “This is the best meal I’ve eaten in months!”

“Jedi meals tend to lack flavor,” the male, Ven, said regretfully. “They are filling and nutritious, but rarely the sort to make you want seconds. And food in war camps is just as bad.”

“How goes the war?”

“Not good. The Empire’s finest fighting force has invaded Balmorra. As the center for production of Republic munitions and war droids, its fall would hurt us badly. The fighting there is more brutal than any other warzone, even Alderaan. But please, don’t let that affect you. We are here to see what we can do about the jimnai that haunts you.”

“Yes. The Jimnai.” Ben shuddered. “It—it started around a month ago. Out of nowhere. We were enjoying our supper around the fire, much like today, and all our firewood rose up into the sky and launched into the ground. They formed perfect rings where they fell—”

“What’s that sound?” Aryn asked, ears perking up.

“Oh—that’s the jimnai. They’ve taken interest in the musical instruments lately.”

“It’s… it’s quite good, actually,” Master Ven Zallow said, listening as well. “Hardly the discordant clanging one might expect from a poltergeist.”

“Yes. This jimnai is mischievous. But not harmful. No one has been hurt yet. But only yet. Jimnai are famously capricious. It’s only a matter of time before the situation escalates.”

“Of course. Please, have your meal, then go to sleep. We will keep watch for you. And no need to rush.”

*

Aryn Leneer felt the emotions around her. Her Master was right, as always. These were good people. Helpful, hospitable, simple, and kind. Many were still afraid, and their fears spiked everytime the instruments started playing again.

But there was some cheer to be found here. Everyone plied Master Ven Zallow with questions about the galaxy, which he readily answered. Their delight to have such a patient outsider was evident, and it made her love him all the more. He was a good man, and his patience often brought out the best in simple folk. Tempers and hatreds often cooled as he listened sympathetically, and fear thawed.

And Aryn was ever the prime beneficiary, able to bask in the feelings around her. Cheerful, festive moods often made her feel warm and cozy. But there was a sadness here too somewhere. A depression. A self-loathing.

With a quick look to check that no one minded, Aryn got up to stretch her legs. Maybe use the fresher. She took a walk around the perimeter, and honed in on the source of the depression; a small child, no older than five or six. The tentacles on his head barely reached his ears.

“Why, hello there! What’s your name?”

The boy jumped to his feet with an “Eeeek!” and ran away. Quite slowly. Aryn could catch up if she wanted to in seconds, but did she really want to do that? His fear was evident even to someone without her gift. However, there was an undercurrent of shame in the boy’s tangle of depressing emotions, and she didn’t know where it came from. Looking at him running away, she wondered if the answer was right in front of her.

“Excuse me!” she called, jogging along, making sure her pace was just a little slower than her quarry’s. “Could you please stop running? You’re too fast for me, and I need your help!”

The words seemed to startle the boy, who turned around at once. “I’m too fast for you?” he asked. “You need my help?”

She knew then, that she’d guessed correctly. She imagined Ven Zallow praising her for her insight. Her heart glowed with pride at the mental picture. “That’s right, kind sir. My name is Aryn Leneer. I’m a Jedi Padawan. A trainee. Or… a student?”

His large, dark eyes widened. “You’re a Jedi?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“I’ve never met a Jedi before.”

“Now you’ve met… me. But my Master is in the village, Master Ven Zallow! He’s the greatest Jedi alive! I’m just Aryn.”

“I’m… I’m Devel. Devel Nirol.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Devel. So… if you don’t mind, maybe you can help me out?” She waited for him to nod before going on. She was encouraged by his fervent expression.

The poor boy! she thought to herself.

“So… my Master and I are here to look into your village’s jinmai. To see if we can persuade it not to harm anyone.”

“I—how can I help you?”

“Can you take me around the village, and show me all the places where the jimnai has appeared?”

Nodding enthusiastically, the boy led her by the hand to each place. The firewood pile—which was close to where the others were seated—the food stores, the fish baskets, the storehouse, the utensils, several different houses, and the chest full of musical instruments—pipes, drums, a few proto-accordions, several pairs of cymbals, harmonicas, and fiddles.

Just as they reached the instruments, they started playing again; the flute, the drums, and the fiddle. Aryn did her best to hide her shock. This was not what she’d expected at all. Instead, she asked “I’ve never heard this song before. Is it something of your village?”

Devel nodded. “It’s a sleep-song. My mother sings it to me sometimes.”

“Do you remember the first day the jimnai came? Where were you? What were you doing? Was there anything special about that day?”

“Yes. I was very sad that day. It was the worst day of my life. Everyone had been teasing me about how slow I was. Even Elder Abarri called me ‘little snail.’ I ran home, and wanted to disappear into the wind.”

Aryn was stunned that these kind, kind people could be such terrible bullies. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Devel nodded, but his lips and tentacles quivered. “But she was not wrong. I am slow. Just like I am weak and useless.”

“No… no you’re not, Devel. You’re still just a little child. Lots of people are small and weak in childhoods, but grow up to become big and strong and handsome. Have you ever heard the tale of the uncomely nerf cub?”

*

It was nearly 22:00 when Aryn returned to Ven’s side. “Welcome back, my child. I trust you were able to stretch your legs? You’re just in time. I was thinking of where we can start looking.”

“We don’t have to,” Aryn whispered. “I found our ‘poltergeist.’ It’s a young child named Devel Niro. A living child. Force Sensitive, but not consciously aware of his powers yet. I just returned him to his parents before coming here.”

Ven raised an eyebrow, and allowed his pleasant surprise show. “Tell me what you learned.”

Aryn quickly summarized her initial encounter with the child. “When the instruments started playing… I saw them. I could Feel the Force at work, and I could tell at once where the flows originated. It was him, but I could Sense no malice at work. Only his shame.”

“You have done very well, my young child. It’s good that you were able to pick up on the cues right away. Now, you’ve answered our question right away. Without any help from me.”

“I got lucky.”

“It was the Will of the Force, child. There is no luck. The question now, is how we deal with this.”

“Devel is strong in the Force,” Aryn said. “Unbelievably. You can’t tell it unless he’s Channeling, and even then, it’s just for an instant. But when he does… he’s strong, Master. Stronger than Master Satele, stronger than you… I suspect he’s stronger than anyone born in Republic space this past century or two.”

“Then we need to take extra care. He will have a home among the Jedi, but we must make sure that he doesn’t leave his home as a pariah.”

“What do you mean?”

“These villagers have been harassed for over a month. Many are on the verge of mental breakdowns. They will be deeply upset with Devel when they find out he was the source of these disturbances.”

“Not if they realize that ‘source’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘cause.’ They need to know that they were the architects of their own problems. Even though they were children, some of the things they did are horrible. He confided in me, told me all the mean things they did over the years. And he isn’t even seven years old yet!” She was sobbing. She’d taken in far too much of Devel’s hurt, and had to fight to not show him the effect it was having on her.

“It’s okay, child. You did well. We’ll deal with this in the morning. For now, try to rest.”

“Yes, Master.”

*

Morning, the next day

Ben Hazzilin woke up with the first rays of the sun that peeked through the canopy, pleased to have gotten a full, restful night’s sleep for a change; and eager for the good news.

“Master Jedi!” he called excitedly. “Have you appeased the jimnai?”

“Not yet, but we have a solution. Before that, however, we’d like to meet with all of your people.”

“Of course!” Ben said, his tentacles writhing in unrestrained delight. “Of course! Please, just give us ten minutes! We’ll gather where we did yesterday!”

The chief personally ran from one hut to the next, ordering everyone to muster at the dining ground. There was a bustling like never seen before; everyone abandoned their morning tasks. Some were in the middle of their baths. Even Devel Nirol was pulled out of bed.

“After some investigation, we have concluded that one of you is gifted. There is a powerful Jedi candidate in the village, someone far more powerful than we’ve seen in generations.”

That proclamation came out of nowhere, but was well received. Everyone began congratulating each other as if they had a part to play in the birth of someone with such potential.

“Who is it?” Abarri asked, but Ben had a different question. “What does that have to do with the jimnai?”

In answer, the Jedi held up a hand and several stones leapt out of the mud to dance on the tips of his fingers. “This isn’t because there’s any poltergeist at work,” Master Ven Zallow said. “This is me. I am using the Force.” He also began playing several drums for emphasis, making sure to keep his hand outstretched so everyone knew it was him. “Your ‘jumnai’ is, in fact, a Force user who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Everyone looked at each other. It seemed to be sinking in; there was no evil spirit at work here. That was good news… right?

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do have to hold you accountable.” Master Ven Zallow’s tone went sad and firm. “For there is a reason why this… awakening was so alarming. You see, the reason why our fledgling’s outburst of power was so flashy, was because he was upset. Frightened. Ashamed. You allowed your children to pick on him. I believe even some of your elders were known to show him your disdain from time to time.” His eyes lingered on Abarri. “Aryn, bring him to me, please?”

The young girl walked through the crowd, which parted to make way. She went straight for Avan and Hala Nirol, and knelt down so that her eye was level with their son’s. With Devel’s. She held out her hands. “Devel?” The boy automatically walked into her hands, allowing himself to be picked up and brought to the Jedi Knight waiting at the front.

“Many of you know young Devel here,” Master Ven Zallow called. “It’s my understanding that he has been severely abused for his small size and lack of strength.” His eyes filled with disappointment, and everyone averted their eyes in shame. “How could you? How could you allow one of your own to be so cruelly tormented? It even happened when you gathered right here for your meals, didn’t it?” He looked again at Elder Abarri, who quailed.

“Please, Master Jedi. It was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean it.”

“Perhaps not. But it meant everything bad to the poor child whom it was directed at. Devel was so distraught, he might have ended his life. How could you fail at teaching your children to value more than just physical prowess? Beasts value strength. People value everything! Not everyone is strong. Some are intelligent. Some are teachers. Some are pilots. Some are artists and artisans. And some are marked by the Force, capable of communing with it. Of hearing its will. Of affecting the world around them. People who could be Jedi, if raised right. Or Sith, if they are not. If they are only shown ridicule and scorn. If they’re taught to hate those around them, and value only strength and dominance. Do you want to know what a Sith is capable of? Just think of what you’ve endured these past few weeks, and think of what it might have been like if they’d intended to harm you. If they took pleasure in long, drawn out deaths. Sith are born of cruelty and neglect. Heroes from love and compassion. Which ones would you prefer your children to be? Or your Force users?” He took Devel from Aryn and looked into his eyes. “Devel Nirol. You have been touched by a higher power. You’ve seen what it can do, if you’re not careful. If something had gone just a little wrong, you might have ended up hurting someone. We can leave you with your family. But if we do, you might really lose control next time. Or, you could come with us. We can teach you how to use your power like an extension of your body. You will be a Jedi, a defender of the peace.”

“Will I be strong?”

“Yes. Stronger than I, by far. I can Sense your potential, now that we’re this close.”

“Will… will you abandon me if I can’t keep up?”

“You can take all the time you need to grow and learn,” Master Ven Zallow promised. “I will not lie. There might be those who mock you, but most will not.”

Everyone could already see what his decision was going to be. His parents approached the Jedi, tears running down their cheeks. “Are you sure?” Hala asked. “If you go with the Jedi, we might never see you again.”

“I’m sure.”

“If that’s the case, say your goodbyes,” Ven Zallow said gently. “We will leave as soon as you’re ready.”

*

Chapter 2: The Last Tiarna of House Rooks

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

8 BTC,
Kouhaush Muin

Maid Aisling Roian stood in the garden holding Princess Kairegane’s hand. The little fairy had spent the entire morning jumping around her room, enthusiastic to the greatest degree about her mum’s impending return. She was waiting as patiently as she could now, but was still bursting with excitement. She bounced on the balls of her feet, restrained giggles racking through her tiny frame. Aisling wished she had the young girl’s energy.

“Look! Look! Mam’s ship! I can see it!”

“Where?” Aisling squinted into the sky, seeing nothing for almost ten seconds before finally seeing it too. “You have wonderful eyesight, Little Marvel!”

Kairegane just beamed.

The Horned Prince came in for a landing a minute later. Everyone covered their faces as dust, grass, and flowers were stirred into the air by the engines.

Kairegane immediately slipped her hand out of Aisling’s and ran to the ship. The ramp descended, and Tiarna Riy’avi stepped out into the bright light of the sun.

“MAAAM!” Kairegane leapt at her mother, who caught her easily.

“What a welcome!” the Tiarna cried. “My little fae has returned the light of the world to me!”

She pecked her daughter’s cheeks and nose full of kisses before raising her to the heavens. Kairegane shrieked with joy, spreading out her limbs like she was flying. Tall as her mother was, she was probably seeing the world from a height of nearly eight feet. “I’m taller than Mam!” she squealed. “Aisling, look! I’m taller than Mam!”

“You most certainly are, my princess!”

Lady Riy’avi lowered her daughter and kissed her belly with a “Hrrrrrrm!” before holding her to her chest. “Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes, I have, Mam! I’ve been practicing everything you wanted me to. I can do sums now! I can listen to the whole news broadcast by Jolia Kell without losing interest! I eat all my greens and meat!”

“Mister Lugh says she’s learning quickly,” Aisling curtseyed. “Faster than most children her age do. She’s fiercely competitive, so putting her in the same class as a dozen children of the same mindset and capacity has brought out the best in her. She knows Aurabesh well enough to read and comprehend children’s stories. She has already learned to mentally do sums of up to two digits. Four, if she’s given twenty seconds. She has a large pool of stamina, so she can play for hours on end, and she’s the best in her class at football and camogie. She’s bad at hiding, but good at seeking. She’s also good at climbing trees.”

“That’s like a good girl!” the Tiarna Riy’avi smiled wide. She ruffled her daughter’s hair. “You’re going to grow up to be big and strong!”

Watching both ladies in their joy, Aisling couldn’t help but see the differences more than the similarities. Princess Kairegane clearly took after her father. Lady Riy’avi wasn’t a beautiful humanoid, with her blocky face and stubby nose. Her horns were also a little on the misshapen side. And her mouth was slightly crooked.

Kairegane on the other hand, looked like she would grow up to be the very picture of beauty. Her lightly tanned skin was also more pleasant than her mother’s complexion, which resembled curdled milk.

The only similarity between the two women was the head of burning red hair.

Still, it was difficult to call Tiarna Riy’avi ugly, especially now when her face was lit up with such boundless love and happiness. She doted on her daughter. When she saw Kairegane for the first time, her joyous expression had left her attendants and midwives speechless.

She cradled her daughter for a few minutes, and the pair had a soft, whispered conversation punctuated by more kisses. But all too soon, her business face came on. Or her business face mark 0.5, since she couldn’t get completely serious while Kairegane was around.

“Come forward, Castellan Callaghan.”

The tall Castellan stepped forward smoothly. Some believed him to be Kairegane’s father, though Aisling was not one of those number. While he was definitely one of the Tiarna’s lovers, he shared little with Kairegane.

“I have your report for you, my Tiarna. Darth Malgus has… requested some aid with his second Alderaanian campaign.”

“Was he polite, at least?”

“Grudgingly, Tiarna. But I think he meant no disrespect to you. It was his own inability to secure victory, that he was enraged about.”

“That’s something. Tell him I’d love to, but the Legion is down to three thousand soldiers. We are aiding in the conquest of Balmorra—or the end of the season, whichever comes first—then pulling out of the war. No, wait. I’ll tell him myself. Return courtesy with courtesy.”

“Of course, Tiarna. Then there’s the matter of the fighting on Ryloth. The Legion acquitted themselves nobly, but everyone complained about there only being two hundred of them.”

“I think I’ll have a word with Moff Marsh. Remind him that I was doing him a favor despite being so badly overburdened.”

“Darth Marr has requested your presence at a ball. It will take place in three months. Although he’s not given us a reason, it’s my belief that he intends to publicly thank you for the House’s contribution to the war.”

“How sweet of him. I accept. It’s been a while since I wore the pretty cape.”

“Finally, Darth Angral has also come forward with a proposal for your sister’s hand in marriage. He’s willing to set aside his previous wife, as well as his sole surviving heir, should their union bring them a child.”

“Go on, my fae. I’ll play with you later.” The Tiarna gave Kairegane back to Aisling, who took her and walked away.

*

Tiarna Riy’avi Rooks looked back at her Castellan, sorrow writ all over her face.

“Caoimhe is dead. The Jedi got her yesterday. Not that she’d accept wedding that slimy oaf.”

“She’s dead? How? She was such a good fighter!”

“I wasn’t there, but she was ambushed by Master Orgus Din and Knight Jaric Kaedan. Those two are growing to become a thorn in our sides. They need to be killed soon. Kaedan, especially. A surviving Sith told me that he used a personal variant of the Juyo form.”

“I see. Forgive me, Tiarna. But that brings the toll to forty-one. The entire Rooks line, almost at least, has been lost in this fool’s errand of an invasion.”

Riy’avi raised an eyebrow. “That just goes to show how dangerous Balmorra is, eh? Even Ajunta failed to kill forty of us. The Republic during the Hyperspace war. Not once have we ever lost that many, even during the Princes’ Rebellions. Or the culling of the Dark Council three centuries ago.”

“Even so, I am worried. Your bloodline aside, we’ve also lost seventy thousand Dracogriffs in this fight. The Rooks have sacrificed enough. You need to pull out.”

“I’m working on it. We’ve laid siege to Sobrik itself. The final, major urban holdout. It’s all hill hideouts and fortified factories after this. The end is near. It’s Kaira’s fifth birthday in two weeks. Hopefully, I’ll be here to properly celebrate with her this time.”

“That would be wonderful!” Callaghan blurted out. “She would be so delighted!”

“Look how much she’s grown! Every time I see her, it’s a real kick to the gut, knowing I’ve been missing out on all that time. I’m going to blink and see that she has grown into a splendid young woman one day. Years will be missing, that I just can’t replace. I can’t let that happen.”

“Of course, my Tiarna.”

“Back to Angral… what f*cking nerve! Does he think I don’t know that Muinar can’t reproduce with humans? He’s looking for an in to all of my territory! He wants to claim our power, just as he did his current wife’s! I think I need to kill him.”

“That would be tricky. He’s one of the greatest Darths of the realm.”

“I will tell the Council to rein him in. Once they fail to do so, I will challenge him to single combat for his insult. Without his servants and underlings to protect him, he’s nothing. Just a bag of wind. Even half my remaining forces are sufficient to invade his estate. The Dark Council will withdraw support for him, once his soft underbelly has been exposed.”

“As you deem fit, Tiarna.”

“We really have lost a lot in this war, haven’t we? I recall a time when even the Dark Council combined wouldn’t dream of going up against one of us.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll speak to Subutarik as well. Should anything happen to me, he will help ensure that Kairegane’s succession is uncontested.”

Callaghan knocked the tree beside him three times. “May nothing ever happen to you, Tiarna. May you live to be a hundred and seventy, with seven more children and grandchildren before your time comes.”

*

Kairegane enjoyed the day with her mother. She showed Mam the frozen treats shop she had discovered, and the menagerie. Mam looked surprised that Kaira could say that word without stumbling over it. “Why are you crying, Mam?”

“It’s nothing.” Mam kissed her brow. “You are a smart, smart girl. The best daughter a Mam can ask for.”

Kaira beamed and ran rings around her.

They went swimming in the hot sun, went out for tea and cakes, then rode their ponies to the edge of the forest in the fading light.

Soon after, there was a fireworks display put up by the citizens to bid farewell to Aunt Caoimhe and Uncles Brennadan and Ronahn. Mam looked extremely sad at this point, though Kaira could not tell why.

She started to sing a soft, slow song, composed of words from the ancient Muinar language which Kaira did not know yet. But it was as sad as it was soothing.

Kaira began crying too after a few minutes; cried herself to sleep in her mother’s arms.

*

The next day

Kaira clutched her Mam’s legs with all her strength. “Do you have to leave already?” she asked tearfully.

“I’m afraid so, fae. Mam has to get back to Balmorra. But I promise I’ll be back for your birthday this time.”

“Can we get a cake from Kevelet?” Kaira asked. “A big one, for all the people!”

Riy’avi laughed and nodded at Callaghan. “Make the arrangements. And make it a big party.”

“Do you want it to double as a celebration for the Legion’s return?”

“No. That will be its own event. If you’ll recall, we also need to mourn our losses. The Legionnaires can kick back for this one. Maybe we can put on a few demonstrations to show Kaira what they’re really like.”

“By your order, Tiarna.”

*

The Morning before Kairegane’s Birthday

An excitable Kaira was being ferried around in Aisling’s arms as the castle prepared for the big party the next day. A great many things were being set up in the wide grounds. Tents for the various food stalls, a stage for the musicians and plays, a ring for the wrestling competition, and different kinds of amusem*nts for children to play in.

“The Tiarna will be here in the evening,” Aisling smiled. “I’m afraid there’s been some trouble. The Legion will put up their demonstration this weekend.”

“What’s troubling Mam?”

“The fighting on Balmorra is fierce. The Republic are fighting hard for that world, as it produces most of their weapons and war droids. If they lose Balmorra, they may lose the war. And they’re already on the verge of losing the planet thanks to our forces.”

“Why are we fighting the Republic?”

Aisling snorted. “Hell if I know, my princess. It’s an old grudge that the Sith’s ancestors had, that we’ve inherited. Tiarna Riy’avi has come to hate many of them though. The Jedi, especially. They’re the ones who took so many of her family from her.”

“But… we’re attacking them, right?”

“That’s right, Princess.”

“So doesn’t that make us the baddies?”

“War is not that simple, I’m afraid.”

Isn’t it? Aisling thought. No one had asked for this war. And unlike the rest of the Empire, the Muinar didn’t hold any particular animosity for the Republic… or the Jedi. She didn’t want to talk to the young girl about this any further, however. It was not her place to form the girl’s political opinions, a mistake she kept repeating. As the next in line to the Rooks throne, and one of its few surviving members, Kairegane could not afford to be soft.

“Enough talk about grim things, Princess. Do you want to play with the hounds?”

“Oooo, yes!” the girl threw up her arms in delight. “I want to brush their fur!”

“Excellent! Come now, I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you.”

*

Early the Next Day
Sobrik, Balmorra

Tiarna Riy’avi Rooks stood on top of an advancing Basilisk. Clans Lok, Fett, Varaad, Vode, and Vizla had proved their worth in her eyes. They weren’t as good as her own Legion, but they were excellent mobile and versatile fighters. A solid auxiliary to her own soldiers.

But it was these Basilisk War Droids that she truly appreciated. They were leagues better than the vehicles and dropships her own force used.

“How’s the wind out there?” Jeven Lok asked.

“Smells like burned… everything. Like it always has. I swear, it’s not the war that did this! Balmorra has always had so much industry, that the air quality suffered. I hate this world.”

“Well, we’re almost done here. All we gotta do is clear out the last of the defenders, and we’re home free.”

Riy’avi shuddered, eyes darting around for a wooden post to knock. It’s superstition, she told herself. Calm down. You’ve surmounted thousands of obstacles. There are only around seven hundred Republic soldiers left on this world now. A pittance compared to the armies I have slaughtered. Everything is fine. I’ll be just fine.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Home free.”

*

The Basilisk led the way down the ramp leading up to Balmorra’s inner gate. It was ringed by fifty Legionnaires and two hundred Mandalorians. A force more than capable of rooting out the battered Republic forces in the city, scrambling to evacuate.

When it was halfway through, Colonel Brax gave the order. The last of their artillery opened fire on the vanguard. A carpet of shells dropped right on top of the mixed company of Muinar and Mandalorians, launching them all into the air.

Ten Jedi surged forward, along with all of the Echani Third Star squad and the twenty-seven mercenaries sent by Black Ops. They were covered by Phoenix Squad, a heavy infantry division which was nearly as illustrious as Havoc Squad. There was no place to maneuver. Mandalorians trying to jet into the air were blasted down by wrist rockets and sticky grenades. An experimental superhigh-impact rail shot wrecked the Basilisk, tearing into its vulnerable shoulder joint.

The enemy was in disarray, unprepared for resistance.

“Forward!” Master Germaine Hext roared. “Strike, in the Republic’s name!” He regretted getting Padawan Aryn Leneer mixed up in this. Her Master was recovering from an unexpected illness. They should have been on the shuttle that was about to leave, not the last ones out.

His Lightsaber cut down the Mandalorians and Dracogriffs who stood in his way. Someone cried, “PROTECT THE TIARNA!” and everyone began to converge around the woman who had fallen painfully on her face.

“Your precious Tiarna dies here!” one of the mercs sneered. His comrades raised a hand which had a gauntlet-type weapon equipped. They fired a very concentrated laser beam that burned a hole into the soldiers’ heads. Three ranks of soldiers fell, leaving the woman exposed. She was almost back on her feet, spitting out her teeth and a mouthful of blood. The one that had screamed fired a relentless barrage of needles at her. Despite her armor, one pierced her under her right arm, and one her left eye; but that wasn’t enough to kill her. The mercs dropped their gauntlets, which were obviously overheated from their single discharge.

The spectacular weapons confirmed Germaine’s suspicion. GenoHaradan. This isn’t a military unit; it’s a hit squad.

But now wasn’t the time for quibbling. They had to push this lot back. If they could just give themselves a little more breathing room…

The GenoHaradan engaged the Tiarna first; they were nothing if not fearless. They attacked with vibroblades, with tech shields as defense. Germaine and the other Jedi began to clear out the still-disoriented Rooks soldiers.

It hadn’t even been twenty seconds since the barrage had hit the ground.

*

Riy’avi panicked as some of the needles managed to find gaps in her armor. She hid the agony when one struck her in her eye. Her scales had stopped the needle from penetrating her skull, but the idea of losing her vision frightened her. The needle was definitely poisoned too, so she immediately Channeled the Force to quell the effects. She didn’t have the time to purge it completely, however, as her enemies fell on top of her.

Twenty-seven men in unfamiliar armor closed in to attack her. “YOU FTINKING COWARDF!” she screamed, cringing at the sounds her mouth made, now that it was missing her incisors. Igniting her blade, she swung a circle around herself, to give herself some space. Four men and five women found their heads chopped off. “IF THIF HOW YOU FIGHT? WITH POISONTH AND INFECT FWARMF?” She slipped out her second Lightsaber, one which had a blade a mere forty centimeters long, and took up a defensive stance. She had to survive this! If she could hold out for just a few minutes, the rest of her forces would arrive to reinforce her. For whatever reason, the Jedi hadn’t been the ones to attack her. Just this mystery division. Other than that gauntlet of theirs, there was nothing she found frightening about them.

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you,” she whispered. She sprang forward like a lion, her charge tearing through several more attackers, including the man who had fired the poisoned darts at her. She raised her Lightsaber to deflect a barrage that the regulars aimed at her, then dived into the midst of the spooks so she didn’t have to worry about the mid-range fighters.

She unleashed a powerful descending chop with her long blade, cutting one assassin in half, then leapt forward with the second outstretched, piercing the woman behind him. She blocked the incoming flurry of attacks from the remaining cloak-and-dagger flingers. She stabbed one in the chin with a shoto, kicked another so hard that his chest exploded, slammed a hilt so forcefully into another’s face that it was left slick with blood.

But she took some hits too. A strike slipped between the plates of her armor, leaving a gash on her side. Another cut deep into the side of her neck, and yet another cut her ear off.

I’m too slow, she thought desperately. Curse this poison!

She also had at least a few cracked ribs, going by the intense pain breathing caused her. She’d not realized how bad her knee really was until she put too much force on the leg while lunging. It dislodged from the weight, and she fell to the ground.

“TIARNA!” General Conners cried. He came to her defense, slaying the last five of the assassins. But now the Jedi started to step forward.

“Surrender,” the leader said. He had the silver hair and eyes of an Echani.

“You pashetic little worm!” she snarled. “Don’t you know who I am? A Rooks does not furrender! Cannot! Nor will we die. Do your f*cking worft!” Her words were a mess, all the dignity of her words robbed. It infuriated her, as did her wounded leg. The remaining Dracogriffs formed up around her. There were so few left, too few! They wouldn’t last against this many Jedi!

As she struggled to regain her balance, to prepare for her stand—she hated that word right now—she watched in mounting rage as her men were slaughtered around her. All fifteen survivors went down in seconds, though they made her proud by taking down two Jedi.

As the last of her men fell, she backed up to the Basilisk, hoping to use the fallen beast droid to support some of her weight. But she didn’t make it all the way. The Twi’leks and Rodian attacked first. Fighting in almost a crawling position, Riy’avi speared the Twi’lek in the front, then rolled out of the way of the other two. She cut the Rodian’s legs out from under her before killing her with a jab. She hurled her shoto at the second Twi’lek, sending her flying with the force of the blow.

Other Jedi closed in. Riy’avi Thrust Out with the Force, and some of the Jedi were stopped in their tracks. But not all.

The Echani appeared at her back, his blade slicing through her left elbow. General Conners threw his dagger with the last of his strength, striking the Jedi in the back and saving Riy’avi’s life. The Echani sank to the ground, but stumbled back, not finished yet. The other Jedi closed in to fight, but it was not the usual kind of Lightsaber fight. Instead of a duel between warriors, it was like hunters who had cornered a mighty rock lion.

They lunged and stabbed at her before retreating. She swung at them in turn, rolling out of the way to avoid the blows. Blood still flowed profusely down her mouth, making breathing difficult. Jedi tried to use the Force to Throw her, or to Throw things at her, but she was able to stop them with her own use of the Force. One time, a Jedi left himself open just a second too long as he jumped in, so she Crushed him while cutting a gash into his neck. She rolled out of the way again as the Echani attempted to dash in early to save his companion, and her head hit the Basilisk’s leg. She rose to her knees, seeing stars, but managed to slay the other Jedi who had taken the opportunity to attack while her guard was down.

All that remained were the Echani and the teenage human Apprentice.

“COME AND GET ME!” Riy’avi grinned. “COME ON OVER, IF YOU DARE!”

The girl obliged, somehow managing to avoid the sweep. She flipped over Riy’avi, striking as she spun past. Riy’avi screamed in pain as an ear was burned off. She barely registered a horn fall to the ground. Her head suddenly felt off-balance, and she stumbled to the ground, which left the side of her neck exposed for a second.

The Echani stepped forward, his injury possibly preventing any further hit-and-run attacks.

Not like this, Riy’avi begged her ancestors. Still on one knee, she put up as mighty a defense as she could. She was no longer able to counteract the poison, but he was clearly dying of blood loss. His right arm was dropping to his side, and the Lightsaber shook in the loose grip of the other. She had to respect his determination to stay on his feet.

This was an even match.

For several minutes, both battled without form or grace, just two dying warriors unwilling to be the one to fall today. And it was quite even… but what decided it was the Force. She managed to lock him in a choke and ran him through before he could recover.

She hissed with relief. She’d done it. She’d survived…

The girl joined in at just the wrong moment, in the instant between Riy’avi dropping her guard, and remembering her existence. Riy’avi was completely blindsided, stabbed in the gut by a greenhorn’s blade.

Riy’avi screamed in pain. The Jedi withdrew her blade, but didn’t drop her guard. Riy’avi tried to swipe at her with a clawed hand, but the girl sidestepped and cut it off. She struck again, this time slashing her back.

Screaming, gasping, seeing the most frightening splotches of black creep into her vision, Riy’avi tried to crawl away from her killer. “No…!” She wheezed. “I—Kaira…! I—I can’t die here!” She fell, and rolled around, looking at the Apprentice pleadingly. “Please! I have a daughter! A young girl! It’s—It’s her birthday!”

The Apprentice’s eyes lingered on the gap between pity and outrage. “Are you for real?” she demanded.

“I don’t care about my life! This… this is a good death for a warrior… but I’m a mother too… my daughter…!”

The girl shook her head again. Her mouth twisted in disgust. “You’ve not been listening to me. I’m sorry your daughter will grow up without you, but it’s no different from the pain you’ve loosed upon this galaxy. How dare you talk about your family, after all the people you and your Dracogriffs have killed? Have you seen this planet? It wasn’t always like this! It was once home to billions! But now, the population is down to a mere twenty million! How many mothers and fathers have you killed? How many orphanages have you filled? Childhoods you’ve ruined? You and your Empire brought war and death without any provocation. Thrice! And now that you’re dying, you dare to complain? You dare ask for mercy?”

Riy’avi felt like she’d been struck by a different kind of weapon.

“You finally understand, do you? Never once thought about the implications of what you’re doing? How… how self-centerdly imbecilic of you! You… you…!” She calmed down. “No. This isn’t our way. Give me your word that you surrender, and I will take you to our medics. You might be released under the condition that your House never bears its fangs at us again.”

“Yes!” Riy’avi agreed. She was part way between enthusiasm and self-loathing. But she could not break her daughter’s heart today. “Yes! I agree. Just… just…”

The girl waved at the troops behind her, and some came jogging up to her. But it looked hopeless; the soldiers were so taken aback that they laughed in the young girl’s face. They weren’t going to help. Not now.

Riy’avi began to lose consciousness. As she did, she felt regret. First, it was purely for letting her daughter down. But as the last sands of her life ran out, she took a moment to linger on all the souls lost because of her. I… am. A monster. Forgive me.

*

Aryn Leneer hadn’t expected the soldiers to agree to help, but she was taken aback at being openly laughed at. And while they stood there laughing, the Muinar Prince had passed away. Aryn had felt the last outrush of her emotions. Love. Regret. It saddened her. Perhaps the woman really had abandoned her pride purely for the sake of her daughter.

“Ease off there, Corporal,” the Commander, Adam Lini came to her defense. “She’s still young.”

“She’d surrendered to me,” Aryn said. “We can get the Rooks to back off for good!”

“It no longer matters,” Corporal Joam Kimble said. “There are only a few thousand Dracogriffs left, and not one of the nobles. Their involvement in this war is over. Their threat is at an end. We have bigger concerns. We raised our shield to trap the Tiarna, but it won’t last another bombardment. We need to pull out of Sobrik.”

“Pull out? But we’ve just beaten Riy’avi Rooks! Surely we can regroup, and drive them off!”

“Their morale would have taken a hit, it’s true,” Commander Lini allowed. “But we’re outnumbered seven hundred to one.”

“If we’re running… why did we launch this mission? The people of Sobrik will suffer for what we did!”

“We did what the Senate ordered. The Rooks and the Dracogriffs have singlehandedly won entire star systems for the Empire. Their loss is a greater blow to them than Balmorra’s loss is to us.”

“That’s bad logic to use against a Jedi,” Corporal Raini piped up. “Kid, we did this because we were ordered to. We’re soldiers. We don’t make the big decisions. Someone in the Senate thought this mission would save lives. That it was worth the risk. Now, come on. You need to get back to Master Ven Zallow. He won’t leave without you. Nor will we.”

Aryn allowed herself to be pulled away, but she used the Force to Pull the bodies of the dead Jedi to her. They’d fought hard. They deserved better than an unmarked grave.

*

Dromund Kaas,
Angral’s Estate

Angral whirled around. “What did you say?” He demanded.

“It seems that Tiarna Riy’avi has fallen in battle,” Darth Baras informed him. “She was killed at the gates of Sobrik. A desperate ambush that took her life. I’m told she and her small escort managed to take seven Jedi with them, including the renowned General Germaine Hext.”

“None of that interests me,” Angral laughed a loud, full-bellied laugh. “An Ebon Prince House is vulnerable! To the boldest go the spoils! I must make haste. If I’ve heard this, so has Jadus. I need to move before he beats me to the punch… I need to make some calls. Write some letters. See yourself out, Baras.”

He ran as fast as he could to his throne room, where his attache was handling the petty matters for him. “Liashi,” he hissed. “Drop everything. We have to move. Write a letter for me. Tiarna Riy’avi is dead. Her daughter is Tiarna now. Send her my sympathies, and inform her that I will support her in this time of need. Tell her that as her future husband, I will take good care of her soldiers, lands, and riches.”

*

Kouhaush Muin,
Dusk

The mood was subdued, the cheer forced. Festivities had died down around noon, when whispers first reached the castle. Everyone tried to put on a brave face for Kairegane, now their sovereign. Their Tiarna.

Kairegane was a bright girl, but not the best at picking up on emotions. Not yet. She simply thought everyone was tired. She did her best to help everyone enjoy the day, her day. For it was going to be an extra special day. Her beloved Mam had promised to be here today. Mam did not break promises to her little fae.

She danced, played, sang, and talked merrily, and her guests tried their utmost to reciprocate her energy.

But towards the evening, she had begun to go somber. She began staring into the skies above, clearly wondering where her Mam was. It was enough to break Aisling’s heart.

The cake was brought out at sundown. “Where’s Mam?” she asked.

Aisling was the one forced to answer, as Kaira’s nurse. “Mam is… Mam is late. Why don’t you cut your cake? Maybe she’ll be here… later, during the night?”

Kaira shook her head fiercely. “No! Mam said she’d be here! I’m not cutting the cake before she comes!”

“Mam wants you to celebrate…”

“I want Mam to come here! She promised!”

Mam won’t be able to keep this promise, my dearest. I’m so sorry. “Please, Princess. Your guests are waiting.” It was a low blow, using her guests like this, but it was the only thing Aisling was able to think about at this moment.

Kaira wavered. “Alright!” She declared stubbornly. “I’ll cut these cakes for my guests. But I’m never touching another piece of cake until I see Mam again. Never!”

She began cutting the cake. Everyone started to cheer and clap and sing. Aisling and the other servants helped Kaira cut the cake into smaller pieces and took them to begin distributing to the guests.

Aisling stayed with Kaira until Callaghan pulled her aside. “I can’t leave her now, Castellan.”

“This is an emergency. The Tiarna’s body will be arriving tomorrow, along with what remains of the Dracogriff Legion.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“They’re also bringing word of her death. They do not know we’ve been informed yet. None of the Empire knows, except for a few.”

Aisling took many seconds to process that. “Then how did we find out?” She asked.

“Angral. That warty toad sent the new Tiarna his condolences. And said he’s taking her under his care. As her future husband.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Yes. He’s trying to assume control over her. I dared not ask the Dark Council for help, but I contacted the Kaygiri, the Tektons, the Tartarids and the Vergils the second I got the message. They’re stepping up to keep him at bay. Subutarik’s ships are already in orbit alongside our own. We turned away Angral’s fleet. There was almost a battle up there.”

“Old ones have mercy…”

“It gets worse. He’s started muscling in on our territory, trying to put his men on our garrisons. Thankfully, Subutarik is a few steps ahead of him. The Tartarids have offered to come and help the Tiarna learn how to govern. I’ve accepted.”

“What… what’s going to happen?”

The castellan shrugged unhappily. “Our reserve forces aren’t inconsiderable. They’re on high alert. The Tiarna is safe here on Kouhaush Muin. The rest of our territory, however…” he sighed. “The only good thing is that Subutarik has guaranteed the integrity of our borders. If any of the others try to openly make land grabs, they will answer to him. You know the situation now. Think of a way to inform the Tiarna. Or the time. I’m afraid we’ve lost the luxury of breaking the news gently.”

“I’ll tell her at once. Courage and honesty to our allies and comrades were important to Lady Riy’avi. She considered it weakness to dither. Kairegane will appreciate being told sooner rather than later. Inform the guests that I’m taking her inside. They can stop acting.”

Kaira’s stubborn face broke when she saw the tears in Aisling’s eyes. “What’s happened Aisling? Did you like the cake?”

“Come with me, my dear, sweet princess. I’m afraid I have something to tell you.”

*

Chapter 3: The Rich Kid

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

6 BTC,
Iridonia

Roban Queens sat very uncomfortably on his seat. Not only was the day hot, the thickly-sweet smoke from all the cigarras was giving him a throbbing headache. His clothes were so drenched in sweat that they felt plastered on. The music, which had sounded good at first, was starting to add to his sense of nausea.

And he wasn’t the only one. Most of the kids and teenagers here had been taken to the fresher at least thrice, already. Everyone except himself.

It was Dad’s fortieth birthday, and Roban was forced to attend. His siblings—who were still below ten—had been allowed to stay indoors. Where they had air conditioning. And each other.

Roban was all alone in here.

Mom kept tossing prompting looks at him, and pointing towards other children with her eyes. Chief of all, Chari Jensen.

Stupid girl. All she cared about were her stupid dolls! But her parents were rich, so Mom had high hopes that she could arrange a match. If only Roban was willing to take that stupid first step.

“Kids his age shouldn’t even be aware of things like that,” Great-Uncle Tamak had told Ban’s parents once. “He’s going to be one of you soon enough. No need to hurry.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mom had said angrily. “It’s our god-given duty to spread our influence. To build up our fortunes.”

Tamak had just laughed. “Is this how you let her talk? For shame, Juden. I told you she needed to be trained before marriage. Now look at her. Running roughshod all over you!” He leaned forward in a friendly manner. “Don’t let little Vina turn out like you, eh? Make sure she knows what’s expected of a lady. It is your god-given duty.”

Roban had loved that. Uncle Tamak was the only one who could make people freeze on a hot summer day. Still, he kind of got what she meant. Life wasn’t all fun and games, like they were for other children out there. But he also hated it. Surely, there were other ways to fulfil his duty?

Just when he was certain he was about to throw up on Chari’s stupid dolls, his rescuer swooped down on him.

“There’s my little Ban!” a deep voice roared as powerful arms pulled Roban out of his chair in a bear hug.

“Uncle Tamak!” Roban squealed. He accidentally kicked his punch onto Chari and whoever was sitting on her left, but he didn’t care. He had to speak up for his uncle—who wasn’t wearing his cybernetic—to hear. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!”

“And miss your Pop’s fortieth?” Tamak boomed. “Not likely!” He carefully settled Roban onto his shoulders. “Juden!”

“Uncle Tam,” Dad said with a scared smile. “I—I’m glad you got my invite.”

“I missed it,” Uncle Tamak shouted, “But luckily for you, the military teaches you discipline. Orderliness. I know how to keep track of my things. Even my head.” He clapped Dad’s shoulders, and the younger man buckled at the knees. “Quite a party you’ve got going here! Out in the heat. Smoke around the young’uns.” He sniffed. “Surely, you could’ve kept them indoors? Away from all that poison?”

Right on cue, several children began to scream for ice cream or cold soda.

“Whad’ya say, Jude?”

“Um. Of course, Uncle.” Dad clapped his hands. “Droids! Take the children to the pool. Make sure the lifeguards are on duty—”

“The rest of them can go,” Uncle Tamak said clearly. “This other birthday boy gets to check out his present.” He kissed Roban’s hand as the other guests realized what he’d just said. “Happy twelfth birthday, my Ban!”

“Thank you!” Ban shouted back.

“I can hear you just fine, this close,” Uncle Tamak said. Without waiting for anything more from his parents, he made for the door. “Don’t worry, Jude. I’ve left your present with the wife. She’ll give it to you at the right time. You will love it. Or else.” The threat sounded like a joke.

“Bye Dad!” Roban cried. “Bye Mom! I love you both!”

His parents just waved back with their mouths open, looking like they’d seen a heist unfold.

*

It was the best birthday present ever. Uncle Tamak took Roban out camping near a military training camp. One of the nicer ones, not the boot camps bad children were sometimes shipped off to. No, this was closer to a resort; one frequented by veterans like Uncle Tamak.

It was still military though, so discipline was enforced. Beds had to be perfect, schedules and orders had to be followed to the smallest detail. Best of all, these rules applied to everyone; even the officers.

Roban found something distinctly pleasing about the order in this place.

Still, even here the grown-ups liked to have fun. After an evening of climbing, swimming, running, and shooting, he and Uncle Tamak sat with the others around a campfire; singing, dancing, swapping war stories. Firing up the grills and barbecues. And it seemed Uncle Tam had gone all out this time; about a third of the people here were from his old mercenary unit.

His Sergeant, Taro Pixon—who went by the imaginative name ‘Tropics’— and four Corporals. Harry O’Shaw, aka Horror Show; Ramon Derrikson, aka Radar; Shamar Redford, aka Shard; and Roger Balfor, who thankfully went by just Balfor.

They called his Uncle ‘Commander Tarmac.’

Not that Roban hated the nicknames. They had their own brand of creative behind them, and were a sign of this group’s tight-knit bonds.

The men all had their wives and children and even a few grandchildren with them. And they were all the kind of noisy Roban liked. And such stories they had to share…!

“It’s all about the critical hit—the winning blow!” Radar was saying. “Knowing the right time and right place to hit. Even if you’re losing, by all rights. f*ck the clever tactics and high-tech gadgets! The best-laid plans can be undone by a tiny monkey wrench! Kilran thought he had us. He’d beaten the army at every turn till then. Then the Commander threw a stone at him.”

“You should’ve heard him scream!” Uncle Tamak roared with laughter. “Kilran considered himself a warrior, but the second things aren’t going his way, he mewls like a helpless woman!”

“‘No!’” Balfour mimicked, his usually normal voice going higher than a cat’s. “‘I am a big boy! I can’t die like this! Mommy! MAW-MEEEE!’”

“I wish we’d killed him that day,” Tropics grunted. “All we did was burn ‘is face a little. That man may sing like a bird, but he’s full’a mean spite. And he knows how to make innocents cry. He’s gunna hurt the R’public again and again till he kicks the bucket.”

“Not now, Trop!” Uncle Tamak chided him. “Today’s a good day! We’re meeting again after… how long? Three, four years?”

“Two,” Radar muttered. “Two!” he said, raising his voice. He tossed a bag at Uncle Tamak. “Find your hearing aid already, damn dunderhead!”

“Why!?” Uncle Tamak chuckled. “I’m feeling just fine. Are you feeling just fine?” he asked, looking around the campfire. “Why do we need to be silent anyway? We’re having a party, not a seance!”

Roban’s head spun with the vivid pictures of the stories that had been spun in the firelight.

He saw his uncle’s mercenary company—the Bumblebees—blasting their way through a Hutt palace. Or shooting up an Imperial base. Dropping that evil man, Captain Rycus Kilran, into a burning inferno below. Of boarding scumbag slavers’ vessels.

Of killing monsters and finding hidden treasures.

“Uncle Tam?” He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Uncle Tam? Tarmac!?”

“That’s Commander Tarmac to you,” Uncle Tamak said slyly. “What is it, little Ban?”

“Can… I want to join the army!” Roban declared. “Can you help me get into a military school?”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Some, like Balfor and Tropics and many of the younger guests, burst into loud laughter.

But the others grew quiet. None more so than Uncle Tam, who sighed and fixed his aid to his ear.

“Ban…” he said seriously.

“The military is a hard life,” a nearby soldier said. He was former Republic military. A retired Lieutenant. “Sure, your uncle and his buddies are laughing about it now, but—”

“But at the time, it was hell,” Radar finished.

“We’re at war,” Roban pointed out. “If the Empire ever comes to Iridonia—”

“You’re too young to make the draft,” Uncle Tam interrupted him. “You won’t have to worry about the war for some time. With any luck, it’ll be over by the time you come of age.”

“You’ve no idea what we’re leaving out,” Balfor said, surprisingly gentle. “The realities of war. The cramped spaces, the bad amenities, the possibility of starving or getting sick. Of out-of-touch Generals who order ill-advised, idiotic charges.”

“We lost eight hundred and fifteen brothers in the war,” Radar said sadly. “Most of them didn’t even see the enemy. Many more died of… diseases. The bad ones, that rob you of all your dignity. Leave you in a smelly bed with flies hovering above you.”

“You’re just a rich kid with stars for eyes,” Horror Show said disparagingly. “Your Uncle may look tough now, but he was a real cry-baby in the early days. Far too many like him. But especially the rich kids looking for glory and caught up in the romance. Tarmac’s one of the lucky ones. The rest of them either slink away in the middle of the night, or stop moving and die in the middle of a fight. If you join the military, you’ll be a whiny mess.”

Roban was silent for a moment. “I either try to become like you… or I end up becoming like Dad.”

The other soldiers laughed again and told him the world wasn’t binary—whatever that meant. But Uncle Tam looked at him thoughtfully.

Roban knew it then. He’d made his first critical, winning blow.

His life was ahead of him now. His life as a soldier.

*

Chapter 4: The One who Defies the Devils

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5 BTC
Marfeld, Belderone

The air was thick with smoke. Bombed-out buildings occasionally still collapsed as their shells steadily lost their ability to keep them upright with several missing pillars.

Juun Stede tried to keep her gaze lowered. Not out of fear, but sorrow. Although she’d wanted to take off and spread her wings for some time now, this village had been her home. She knew everyone here. While she wasn’t on the best of terms with every last blighter her age, civility had been maintained by the elders, as a small community did not stand long when it fought itself.

Everyone was gone now. Her dad, her older brother Jek, her teachers Jonas and Kaleb. And her poor, poor gramzy, who had picked up her blaster for one last fight. And the burning town was a reminder.

“Move your legs!” one of the guards snapped, prodding Juun onwards with her pike. The point dug slightly into her shoulder, making her hiss in pain.

She turned to glare at the co*cky guard, whose head was covered by the trademark helmet. The woman laughed and swatted her in the face with her open palm. Juun was knocked onto the floor.

“You want to blame someone, make it your buir,” another guard jeered. “They didn’t fight hard enough to protect you. Died like maggots to bugspray. Which means, you belong to us now.”

“Yoo luk soh cawcky in yer fancy-pants armor,” Juun’s boyfriend Leonard Bretts shouted. “But yooz’are no bett’r than thugs. Wee ‘ear so much about Mandies. Noble warriors. Migh’y fighters. But y’all ain’t warriors, and y’all ain’t noble. And yee shore as heck ain’t fighters!”

One of the sh*tbags shut him up by smashing their armored kneecap into his balls.

He went down with a long, high-pitched squeal. “LEO!” Juun cried.

“Dijja haf to do that, di’kut?” another of their captors sneered. “Neutered goods go for a lot less.”

“No one questions our honor,” the kicker started to say angrily, but Juun exploited a moment where all eyes were off her. She shoulder-tackled Leo’s assailant into the still-burning building behind her.

Luck came down to kiss her for just that moment, as a pipe from the Mando’s jet fuel cannister was cut. The next thing everyone knew, the woman was on fire, her shrieks filling the air as she was cooked alive in her armor.

Juun spat after her. “Ah hate yoo all!” she declared. “Garbijj wid shiny gear, that’s all you are!”

For a heartbeat, she thought she’d get gunned down for her impudence, but several Mandos burst into chuckles. Another guffawed so loudly that he might have been the reason that next building crumbled.

“I like this one!” he wheezed. “Hey, Giradda still pays for good gladiators, right? I think we found him a decent candidate!”

“Right you are,” Juun’s original captor grunted. “Come on, wench. Up you get.”

Juun was incensed. “I just killed your friend! Don’t you animals care at all!?”

“Yeah, you did!” the laughing man shouted. “And it was hilarious! Keep that up, and you’ll be the greatest gladiator of all time!”

Juun fought to spit out more curses at these damned Mandos, but she was carried off before speech returned. Leo was left whimpering on the ground.

*

Juun was packed in a tight, cramped box with five of her fellow villagers; one of maybe ten in the cargo hold. Only sixty out of a population of four hundred. Most of them were kids. Leo had been left to rot in what was left of the town.

If only Ah had me a gun, Juun thought bitterly. I wouldn’a been taken like this. And I may’ve takn a few of them goons with me.

“Hey. Hey!” Someone whispered. “Hey, Juunie? Yoo thaire?”

“Gelehd?” Juunie whispered back. “Yoo still alive?”

“Yeh,” the village guard whispered back. “Them Mandos manijjd t’ knock me awt wid a stunner.”

“Oh-kay,” Juun replied. She was suspicious as hell. The guard didn’t have the best reputation. A liar, a cheat, a drunk… it was easy to see him as a coward too. But he was the only one who wasn’t caught up in their own despair. At least he was still thinking of escape.

“If you can ‘elp me, mebe we cin all ged outta ‘ere. Even Parsons.” His hand snaked out through the bars and pointed. “The release switch. See the box Clare is in? It should be righ’ about ‘ere! But it’s a bit outta muh reach. Outta most of ours, Ah’d wager. But you… you’z thinner than th’ rest uf us. And yo hand is long. If you can hit the release switch…”

“Then whut?” Juun asked. “Them Mandos is still out there. We’ll git caught again!”

“This is their cargo hold,” Gelehd answered. “They keep all uf their cargo ‘ere. Includin’ spare weapons. See? Tha’ box there! There’s a muzzle pokin’ out!”

“Right,” Juunie said. Hope kindled in her belly again. And anger. She wanted to get out, and she wanted to make these Mando piggies squeal. She vainly reached around the edge of the box, looking for the switch. But even with about seventy percent of her hand sticking out of the cage, she could only just touch it. Not hard enough to press hard enough.

Uh course ah can’t. She thought in frustration. “Hey, Gelehd?”

“Yeh?”

“Cin I trus’ yoo?” Juun didn’t wait for his answer. She hoped that he’d see that he couldn’t escape alone. She stopped trying to open her cage, and reached for his instead. After a few minutes of fumbling, she managed it.

The cage doors groaned open, and Gelehd was out before you could say ‘Yahtzee!’

“Well done, Juunie!” He released Juun first, then went about opening the other cages. “Now c’mon. We need tuh get ready for a real fight!”

“What we gonna do?” Juun asked.

“Firs’, we get our neighbors and friends out through the freight lift,” he replied. “Then we sees about riggin this ship to blow.”

Once they had everyone freed, Juun went to the boxes. These Mandos sure were careless in storing their weaponry, that was for sure.

No, they were careless, period! Were they greenhorns, or something? New to the business? Surely the feared Mandalorians she’d heard so much about couldn’t be this incompetent!

Well, they did kill over 300 people with a raiding party of just twenty. And it wasn’t just their armor doing the work for them. Juun could tell they knew how to use their tools. They’d only lost two people in the raid—one of whom had simply died to the worst luck imaginable.

After looking through the box, Juun picked out two blasters whose make and model she recognized. B9-12 Crowbeaks. Good range and firepower. They fit perfectly in her hands, though the gun belt they were attached to needed some adjustments before she could clip it on. She also chose a nice little vibroblade for herself, whose blade was about the length of her forearm. And finally, a grenade. Sonic, she thought. Most of the others were still dazed, but Gelehd and three others also armed themselves. The shifty guard picked up a scattergun, while Gordin and Mern picked up rifles. Kilna went for a small, dainty blaster, which was the only thing that fit in her small hand.

On a whim, Juun quickly took a look around the ship. There in the Captain’s cabin, one final weapon caught her interest. She almost screamed in shock. And savage glee.

Is that a—

A quick glance told her indeed, it was an X-Cat 320 Medusa, a weapon banned in Republic space. Only a weapons nut like herself knew what this was baby was, especially since it looked so plain.

She didn’t know where these blasted Mandalorians had gotten their hands on one, but damn if she was going to let it go to waste!

*

Outside, in the burning embers of the village

Chero of Clan Varaad sat around the fire with his clanmates. They started to cheer and groan once the man whom Yadi had kicked finally stopped moving or whining.

“THAT’S TWENTY-THREE MINUTES!” Chero cried. “Whose wager came closest!?”

“Mine did!” Kit roared happily. “Twenty-two!”

Jorna walked up to the body and smashed its head in with a boot. “You happy now, you rat? You lost me three hundred credits and a kilogram of Beskar!”

“Not his fault, you’re such a compulsive gambler!” Kino grinned slyly. “I told you, there was no need for such high stakes!”

“I’ll say!” Xami roared. “Most of us only bet a hundred credits and a bottle of tihaar!”

Clan Varaad danced and drank and broke camp about thirty minutes later, and piled onto their ship.

They were all crowded at the entrance when the ship blew up.

Only four were spared; the ones who had donned their helmets. It still tossed them back hundreds of feet. Chero found a piece of shrapnel lodged in a gap between his legplate and kneecap, but he was otherwise lucky. Having been closest to the door, his clothes hadn’t caught fire like Xami and Kit’s. Isom had taken a large shard right in his throat, killing him near instantly. But so far as Chero could tell, he was the only one who wasn’t dead or dying.

He groaned. “What happened?”

“Whaddya think, dickless?” a voice drawled. “We gawt owt. We bloo up yo ship. Din’ think killin you Mandos was this easy. Ah guess stories uf yo impragnible armar are just tawll tales.”

“f*ck you,” Chero tried. “My armor protected me from the blast. It’ll protect me from yo—oh crapbaskets. You went into my room.”

“Ah went into yor room,” the woman agreed, hefting the Medusa he’d spent seventeen thousand credits to acquire. And not found the time to use, yet.

She pointed it at his head and pressed the trigger while he was still dumbstruck.

*

The cleanup took the better part of three days. Juun and the other survivors rounded up every body they could and gave them their last rites. And since they couldn’t give them a better monument, Jun placed the Mando skulls on stakes. They were preserved in ferrocrete, with small inscriptions marking them as Mando scum.

“Yoo’z really the devil, aint’cha?” Gelehd remarked.

Juun gave him a hard stare. “No. Ah’m the bitch tha’ defies the real devils.”

“Or defiles them, I should say,” Mern said. He was just a year younger than her, and the headmaster’s son. One of the nicest people she knew. Always in love with books and plays. She wondered if he could move on, some day. She knew she wouldn’t.

“Ah like that,” she nodded. “Ah think Ah’m gunna keep this up fo the rest uf muh life. Goin tuh new places. Findin new scum. Killin em.”

“Yoo shore tha’s tuh be yer life’s work?” Gordin asked. “Takin’ ou’ the trash?”

“Before good folk get cov’red in it?” Juun asked. “Why nawt?”

“Ah like the idea,” Hammond said. “I think Ah’ll join you.”

“Tha’s swell, Hammy!”

“Ah mean, Ah’ll join the army. Republic. Tha’ whot yor doin too?”

“Me?” Juun thought it over, then shook her head. “Naw. Ah need mah freedom. Ah’ll do this my way.” She ran her fingers over the ground. She allowed herself to feel the loss. For the first time since it happened, she realized. So many dead… cruelly taken away by a bunch of gutter slime who thought their fancy armor made them different. But they were just sh*tbags without their cans. She’d seen as much, when she’d stripped off their Beskar.

Tears started to fall. Mern placed a hand on her head, Kilna on her shoulder.

“You won’ be forgotten,” Juun promised.

Gelehd looked up from his comm. “Hey. Looks lahk we’ve gawt a few Ree-public shuttles inbawnd. Uh guess it’s time then. Ah’ll call everyone. We cin give everyone our last farewells.”

It’s not farewell, Juun thought. “Pa. Gremzy. Jek. And Lenny. I’m gonna remembe’ yoo all. Forever and ever.”

*

Chapter 5: Killing the Right People

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 BTC
Hengst Ridge Village,
Belderone

Juun got lucky. The Tonvarr Pirate pigs who had joined up with the small Sith army in exchange for everything and everyone they could carry off, were too easily satisfied. Not to mention, complacent.

The poor folk of this village were caught completely off-guard by the late night-raid; so of course, the Pirates were now throwing a party at the edge of town while the Empire formed a perimeter, awaiting reinforcements.

The idiots hadn’t even placed lookouts!

Juun knew Republic soldiers were en route, as she’d sent out a distress signal on the villagers’ behalf before closing in for the kill. The closest force capable of defeating this one was five hours away. But that time was almost up now. Most importantly, her quarry was vulnerable.

She thought it was safe to get started. Heck, she might even be setting off a good diversion for the good guys!

Wasting no more time, she raised the rocket launcher she’d stolen from the Imp armory shuttle. She took a moment to aim, then fired. The rocket hit her intended target—the bonfire—causing a shower of burning splinters on top of the deadly boom.

She burst out of her hiding spot with her lungs screaming louder than her guns.

“HAAAAAAAH! HOW D’YA LIKE THEM WHIZZPOPPERS NOW, YEH BITCH SPAWNS!”

The pirates wailed and begged for quarter as she shot them one after another. One—just one—managed to stand up and pull out his blaster. But he took a shot to the throat before it did him any good. She got close, fired off a few more rounds, then dropped one of the deadlier thermal charges and bolted. One or more of the bodies flew hit the crates she’d taken cover behind. A head actually landed right in front of her, horrified eyes staring at hers.

She stuck her tongue out at it. Then kicked it like a football. “Ohhh-kay! Guess dem Imps will be on th’ lookou’ now!” She ran several blocks and jumped into a large haystack.

Please let th’ gud gahs ged ‘ere in a minit or twoo! She prayed fervently. Her hopes were answered; twelve combat shuttles dropped out of the sky, firing blasters and rockets at the enemy. Juun breathed a sigh of relief.

*

There was no place to shift or stretch in this basem*nt. The women tried their hardest to silence the weeping children while themselves trembling from head to toe.

The attack had started this morning. Or was it the year before? No one knew. But Jerre Kraot didn’t think it had been too long. Darla, who was just eight months old, had only needed feeding thrice. Besides, the water they’d managed to grab had only run out a short while ago.

People couldn’t survive without it for more than a day… could they?

Old Miss Jenny Hopkins had been reciting an old story of a knight named Willim Hershell in a tremulous voice. One of her favorites. Most kids in the settlement loved that fable.

She was at the most pivotal moment of his life now; that moment when he had been found innocent of all charges laid at his feet by his back-stabbing sister and finally given the Knighthood he had earned through three years of noble achievement. The oathtaking ceremony.

“‘Tuh all ye children of Taire, know tha’ yoo mus’ hold t’ this pledge: speak only th’ truth, for it will set yoo free. Stay yer blade agains’ everyone bu’ th’ wicked. Feed and clothe th’ poor. And love n cherish yo friends n family. May yo eyes nevah wander. May goodniss rule yo heart, yo arm, and yo tongue.’

“Hershell repeated these words aloud, bu’ also in ‘is heart. Fer unlike ev’ry’un else tuh ever take tha’ pledge in those hallowed halls, Young Willim meant them. For he was a true man of Taire, one with the ancient nobility of the Ashraim still flowing in his veins—”

BOOM

“THEY’VE FOUND US!” Emme shrieked as yet another explosion shook the land. Dirt fell from the ceiling.

Everyone screamed. Disturbed from their nap, Darla, Furan, Bellis, and Yara started to wail loudly. Some of the villagers threw up, others soiled themselves.

Pretty soon, there was someone banging at the door. The lock began to glow and turn red as it was burned with a long, yellow blade. Moments later, it was pulled aside.

“They’re in here!” someone shouted. They turned back to the people inside the room and put away their weapon. “Easy,” they said. “Calm down. We’re with the Republic. I’m a Jedi Master. My name is Kellian Jaro.”

“A Jedi Master?”

“A Jedi Master!”

“We’re saved!”
“We’re saved!”

The tone of the weeping changed from despair to relief as medics and surgeons helped the villagers out and began checking their health.

Jerre walked up to the Jedi. He had a nice, kind face. He was bald, like Thaddeus Finchley. But with a thin moustache and beard. “Yoo really a Jedi?” he asked.

The man smiled and knelt. His eyes were kind. “Yes I am, Son.”

“And duh Imps are gone?”

“Yes. You’re safe. Come. You look like you need some food and water. We’ll get you checked out as well.”

Jerre took the Jedi’s hand and followed him out.

*

Juun was instantly taken by the kid holding the Jedi’s hand. His hair was the exact same shade of pink as hers. He wasn’t very big yet. Maybe ten to twelve years old? Surely not an adolescent yet.

The hairs on the back of her head stood, and she casually stood up and turned, her hands kissing the hilt of her blaster as she faced a pair of green Twi’leks and a Rodian wearing nonstandard armor.

“Easy there,” the taller one said. “My name’s Peralta. This is Scarab. And that’s Hren Hui.”

“I’m Juun. Yoo ain’t a reg. You our ride outta ‘ere?”

“Maybe yours,” Peralta said. “Maybe. We hear you’re the one responsible for pegging the pirates. Not to mention, almost all the Mando deaths at Marfeld, a year or so back. Rigged the engines and blew out their brains yourself.”

“And Ah’ma achin’ tuh do it a fourth time.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Peralta smirked. “You did good work. Quick, efficient, no playing around. Good use of explosives for distraction. And your aim’s quite good too. Captain Purge over there has been on our hit list for years now.”

“Ah don’ wanna join the military.”

“Good thing we’re not the military then,” Scarab said. “We’re… independents. We take contracts on pieces of garbage. Mandalorians, pirates, bandits, slavers, serial killers, violent gang members, rapists... you get the drill.”

“Ah do,” Juun said slowly.

“Best part; we have full freedom to live as we like. Have our own ordinary jobs, go anywhere in the galaxy. Today, for instance; you can make your own way off the planet if you want to. Follow your path where it goes. Only catch—we gotta train. Get better at shooting and fighting. And we answer when called. To kill. If you want to get bigger in the organization, you gotta commit more of your time. Many of us work in cells. Or groups. In return, we get paid big bucks. But the codes are strict.”

“So who you answa to? Who pays you?”

“Our bosses,” Peralta replied.

“Tha’s conveniently vague,” Juun complained.

“Look, you want to hear more, you gotta swear—”

“Ah swear,” Juun said at once. “Yoo cin shoot me a billion times in my yapper if uh break faith.”

“Waste of ammo. I only ever shoot each target once.” Peralta leaned closer. “We call ourselves the GenoHaradan.”

*

Jerre Kraot instantly noticed the dark-skinned woman with hair just like his. And his Pa’s. She was kinda slim. She had a big bottle of what looked to be brandy on the windowsill beside her. She was approached by a trio in… well, junk armor. They chatted for a little bit before shaking the woman’s hand and leaving again.

Jerre felt someone shake his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, my child; but duty calls me away,” Master Kellian Jarro said quickly. “The Empire has attacked Tanaab.”

“Yo’re leavin’?” Jerre asked, dismayed. “Bu’ whaddif they come back?!”

“Your elders have decided to resettle closer to a Republic garrison,” the Master answered, still kind. “You and your family are going to be much safer from now on.”

The Master patted his shoulders one last time and hurried away to his shuttle. He was gone before Jerre could gather his wits.

“They’re gone, ain’t they?” a voice behind him asked.

Jerre turned to see the other pink-hair walking up to him. He could smell the spirits on her, and her gait was a bit unsteady. But her eyes were alert.

“Ah heard whot the Jedi said,” she continued. “But tha’ look in yo eyes…”

“They’z gone,” Jerre admitted stupidly.

“Ohhh, Ah’m so sorry, Kid.” She pulled him into a hug, perhaps waiting for him to cry.

But he couldn’t. No matter how bad he wanted to mourn his dear family, he just couldn’t. He was so ashamed.

“It’s okay,” the woman said softly. “It takes a while fo’ it tuh sink in, sometimes. Others jus’ don’ do their mournin’ like the rest of us. Doesn’t mean yoo don’ care. Mah name’s Juun. Juun Stede.”

“Ah’m Jerre. Jerre Kraot. Muh family was killed by… those pirates.”

“Well, them pirates won’ be hurtin no one no more. Ah made sure o’ that.”

“Yoo did?”

“Yuh. Ah’m from Marfeld. Heard of it? It wuz attacked by those fu—Ah mean those damned Mandos. Ah lost ev’ryone.”

“Ah’m sorry.”

“Thanks. But they’z dead too. Mah first kills. Won’t be muh last.”

“Yoo on a croo-sayde?”

“Tha’s a fancy way of sayin it, Jerre,” Juun said heavily. “Ah’ve made it mah goal t’ kill a lot of people. But Ah ain’t gunna pree-tend tha’ it’s some holy callin’. It’s takin’ ou’ the trash. But tell you what; Ah’ll kill double the bad guys, if you promise not to follow in mah footsteps. Triple. Thousand-ple, even.”

“Okay,” Jerre accepted.

Juun blinked. “Tha’s it? You don’t want revenge?”

“We ‘ere follow th’ way of the Jame Taire,” Jerre explained. “Mah parents don’—Ah mean didn’t—believe in eye fo’ an eye. So Ah won’, too.”

Juun seemed happy. “Tha’s good. Real good.”

“But…”

“Yeah?”

“Can Ah come with you, anyway?”

Juun looked at him. “Why? Don’t you wanna go with your village?”

“Ah do,” Jerre answered. “But Ah like you. You’z a good woman. Maybe… maybe if Ah follow you, Ah can help you. Not fightin’, uh cou’se. Just… little things. Ah can carry stuff for you. Make yo meals. Stop yoo from…” He swallowed. “Mah Pa always used tuh say, when yoo’z livin’ in th’ dark too long, the dark starts livin’ in yoo. Maybe Ah can keep tha’ darkness away. Like yo lil campfire.”

Juun regarded him with wide eyes for a few minutes. “Yoo’z still a kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Ah am. Bu’ Ah saw this ‘appen.” Jerre pointed around himself. “War doesn’ get nice jus’ coz there’s a young’un around.”

“Bu’ the odds o’ tha’ happ’nin’ again befo’ you’re a man grown, are real slim.”

“Please, Miss Juun Stede, Ma’am? Please?”

“You iz only jus’ met me, kid.”

“Muh Ma always tol’ me t’ follo’ mah heart. Besides… yoo have pink hair. Like mine and Pa’s. Maybe we’re related. Maybe yo’re mah only livin’ relative.”

After ten minutes of deliberating, Juun sighed. “Ah’m doin’ this agains’ muh better judgement. But yoo remin’ me too much of mah own brother. Ah half suspect yoo’ll find yor way no matter what.”

Jerre’s heart leapt. “So you’ll—”

“Yuh. Grab all yer things, n meet me at tha’ bird over there. Her Captain’s agreed to employ me. He’s helped me become a great pilot. Maybe he’ll take yoo on, as well. Ah’ll teach you tuh fly, too.”

Jerre raced to his house, what was left of it. He knew just what he was going to pack. His Pa’s jacket and hat, the ones he was going to give Jerre when he was old. His Ma’s necklace. A few clothes. And their old stunner for protection.

He knelt by his family’s bodies before leaving. He made the oath he’d always intended to at his twentieth birthday.

“Ma. Pa. Ah’ll always remember you, and what yoo taught me. Ah’m a child of Taire, and Ah swear to hold t’ this pledge: Ah will speak only th’ truth, for it will set me free. Ah will stay muh blade agains’ everyone bu’ th’ wicked. Ah will feed and clothe th’ poor. And Ah will love n cherish muh friends n family. Mah eyes will nevah wander. May goodniss rule muh heart, muh arm, and muh tongue.’”

He kissed the floor at their feet and rose. “Ah may not be Willim Hershell… bu’ maybe Ah can be a good Kraot. Jus’ like you. Goodbye.”

*

Chapter 6: The New Prospect

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

2 BTC,
Coronet City, Corellia

“Wait!” Nurse Hughes said. “You’re not thinking of going back to the dormitories on your own, are you?”

A smiling Tatiana Horakova waved at the kindly man. “I’ll be fine! My room is just a block away.”

“Well, just make sure you have your next dose right after breakfast!” he sighed, hands on his hips. His face betrayed his concern, an emotion Tia understood.

She’d learned how dangerous the streets and alleys were at a young age. Criminals of all stripes frequented the place. That was why she rarely strayed out at night. At least, not in the open.

But this had been a rare emergency. She’d gotten really sick after eating a bad pear, and had needed urgent medical attention at the free clinic.

Her certainty that nothing could go wrong soon left her as her head began to sway. She was so confused that she took a wrong turn in her own literal backyard and ended up outside a warehouse guarded by a very seedy duo of Trandoshans.

“Oh, what’ssss thisss?” one of them said in Basic. “Ssseemsss we have us a lossst child.”

“Ohhh, yesss,” the second hissed, swooping down on her. “Are you in need of assssissstanccce, my dear?”

“N-n-no,” Tia said, shaking on her feet. From her high fever and the meds, not the fear. She was a bit too out of it for the latter. “I—I’m a local. My home’s nearby. I’ll just be gone now.”

“You’re going nowhere, little girl,” the first one snarled. “You are a very fine little ssspecccimen. You will fetch usss a neat price on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Price?” Tia asked unsteadily.

The Trandos guffawed. “You drunk, girl? Isss it legal for five-year-oldsss to drink on Corellia?”

“I’m fifteen,” Tia retorted.

The Trandos laughed in delight. One grabbed her shoulder, then the other. They began to pull her towards the shed despite her struggles.

“That meansss we don’t even have to feed you for very long!”
“Fifteen isss the sssweet ssspot!”
“You a virgin, little girl? Cccertain brothelsss would jussst love to have you.”

Tia was finally starting to realize she was in danger. “Look, I said just leave me alone!”

“I don’t think you sssaid anything like that.”
“Even if you did… Black Blood Fang doesss not let new catch go jussst because it aksssed real niccce.”

Even in this state, Tia knew that talks had failed. If she wanted to avoid a terrible, unknown fate, she had to act. Luckily, she was far from a helpless child. Before her passing, her mother had insisted she learn Teras Kasi from herself and her uncle. Including the Corellian Threvyprs. And fortunately, there was a school of Teras Kasi best suited to fighting when inebriated or discombobulated.

She stuck a leg under the one on her left, tripping it over. His momentum would’ve brought her down as well if she hadn’t spun around to give the one on her right an exe kick in the small of his back. Since they hadn’t bothered to bind her hands, she was able to land on her palms and flip back onto her feet. She landed heels-down on the base of the first Trandoshan’s neck, which killed him instantly. She winced. It was only her seventh kill, so she still wasn’t used to this. She kicked the other one in the gut as he was getting back to his feet, then in the throat.

By this time, the commotion had drawn out three more Trandoshans from the warehouse. Stumbling off her feet, she stole one of the Trandos’ daggers, holding one in each hand. She didn’t have the coordination to throw one right now, so she continued with Drunken Mantis combat.

“Thisss one isss not easssy prey,” one of the newcomers noted. “The Ssscorekeeper will not be upssset with our brothersss after all. And she will be pleasssed when we capture you.”
“Yesss…” another agreed. “Worth many pointsss!”

“Only if you catch me,” Tia said politely. Then she accidentally put a foot on their brother’s face.

All three of the Trandoshans screamed their rage as they attacked in unison. It was more than Tia had been trained to handle. She’d gotten lucky the last time, but this… these lizards were trained hunters and warriors! She didn’t stand a chance, she thought…

Unless…

They’d been driven senseless by the apparent desecration of their brother’s body. They were being a lot more furious in their attack, with nothing in reserve for defense. And clearly not using any tactics either.

When she spotted an opening, Tia committed fully to striking it. As she’d hoped, her dagger sunk into the Trando’s armpit. But it got lodged there. She rolled forwards—well, fell forwards after overbalancing—and stabbed her remaining dagger into their chest. She only had one now, but one fewer attacker. On the positive, they were still mad out of their heads. But on the other hand, she was really dizzy now. Her vision swam dangerously, and her head couldn’t keep up with the swaying of her feet.

She dodged one attack from the left, but took a scratch on her elbow from the follow-up. She fell on her side, coincidentally avoiding the taloned kick to the face. But that was where her luck ended.

She tried to get back on her feet, but her leg moved too slow. One of the thugs had just enough time to bury a knife in her stomach, all the way to the hilt. She gasped in more horror than pain, tears leaking out of her eyes.

“Fool!” one of them barked. “We were going to sssell her to the Brothersss!”

“You wanted to take your chancesss even after ssshe killed Kurrhikan?” the other retorted. “Thisss one isss sssuperior. Isss a worthy offering to the Ssscorekeeper.”

“We have lossst three brothersss thisss day. For no gain.”

“No. Gained many Jagannath pointsss. The othersss will understand.”

Tia gritted her teeth. She was starting to feel cold. The area around her wound sizzled slightly as the stomach acid seeped out, burning the flesh and the skin. She could smell it too. Her vision was losing all its color. Her hearing grew steadily more muted as the Trandoshans went from bickering to laughing. She was really… she was really going to die!

It’s better than being enslaved, she told herself. And I took a few of them with me.

“Finish me,” she pleaded.

“You are already dead,” one of them leered. “You will go to the Ssscorekeeper with asss few woundsss asss possssssible.”

“Who goesss there?” the other said suddenly, turning around. Tia couldn’t see them. Couldn’t move her neck to do so. But she did hear. A deep masculine voice.

“You… monsters…” their voice whispered. “Treating people like animals… just because of a backwards religion… I hope your whole species gets what it deserves. Lose all your precious points.”

Tia lost track of everything that followed. The Trandos moved again. There was the clang of metal on metal. A few heavy thuds, followed by two shrieks of pain. Tia thought she saw dismembered limbs. Two scaly aliens propped up against the wall; their own stomachs split open just like her own.

A man hurried in front of her, but all she saw was his feet.

*

It was kinda dark when Tia woke up, but orange rays of light fell through the cracks in the door. Either dawn, or dusk.

The console beside her beeped, and a droid stepped out of a door to her left.

“Subject is awake,” it said. “Vitals approaching normalcy. Wounds have healed. No signs of complications or infections. Are you in any pain?”

“No,” she answered. “But I’m feeling so weak. What happened?”

“You were attacked by Hunters of the Black Blood Fang,” the droid answered. “And your stomach was cut open. Also, you were down with a virus, so the temperature would’ve killed you if the stomach acid had not.”

Tia vaguely remembered. She rubbed a hand on her stomach. There were no bandages there. Had someone used Kolto? “How long was I out?”

“Five days,” it reported. “You’ll be pleased to hear that your recovery went well. My master had me tend to your illness as well. A little physical therapy and you’ll be back to normal.”

It ran her through a small collection of exercises that got her muscles moving and her heart pumping. They got progressively harder, but she was able to do most of them without a problem.

“Very good,” the droid said. “Here. Drink this. One sip at a time. I’ll give you more if you can hold it in.”

The doors parted, and a human male walked in, someone she didn’t know. He had light tan skin and a balding head of blonde hair. His face was clean shaven. His clothes looked heavy and functional, but relatively cheap. He had two blasters on his hip, and the hilt of a weapon poking over his right shoulder.

“I see my guest is awake,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tia said. “My name’s Tatiana Horakova. You saved my life.” I really hope he’s not a slaver too.

“It was my pleasure,” the man smiled. “And you can call me Captain. I’d give you my real name, but I’m here incognito. In secret.”

“Got it.”

“It may interest you to know that I freed the slaves from that warehouse. None of them were locals, and I didn’t have time to ask around. So, I brought you to my hideout.”

“You used precious kolto on me,” Tia whispered.

“Well, you are a hero, after all. Never met a teenager from the streets who could take on five seasoned Trandoshan hunters. You would clearly have won, had you not been sick. Talent like yours is rare.”

“Thank you. My mom taught me Teras Kasi.”

“She taught you well.” He sat down and emptied a bottle of water.

“So… what now?” Tia asked.

The man looked at her guiltily. “I’m afraid that’s not for me to say. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I was actually worried I’d have to find a different caretaker for you.”

“I have a… life here,” Tia said. “But it’s not a good one. I work at three repair shops, parttime. I still have to scrimp and save for food. I dodge petty criminals at every turn. And the one time I got caught out, I was nearly killed.” She was starting to feel extremely nervous about that. This was only her first real brush with death. But she could not stop thinking about it… all alone, on that dirty ground outside a dingy warehouse… and for nothing. She sat up, clasping her shoulders to ward off the chill. “You said you’re a Captain, right? Like, a ship captain, captain? Maybe you can hire me! I can fight, and I can fix the small things in your ship—”

“Not that kind of Captain,” he replied. “No, I can’t take you with me. It’s too dangerous.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Well…” he regarded her for a moment. “The Coronet military academy is taking applications next week. Life as a soldier in wartime could be more dangerous than life on the streets. But you’ll have a shot at a better life. With your skill, I have no doubt you’ll make it to into one of the special courses. Maybe an elite unit, even. You will be well-paid. You’ll have comrades to watch your back. And you will have food and medicine. Especially in times like this, a good soldier’s life is valuable.”

“A soldier,” Tia reflected. “My mom said my dad was a soldier. The only man she ever been with.”

The captain grinned. “Really? Know his name? Maybe I’ve met him.”

“Umm. Tavar, I think. No, Tavus. Harun Tavus.”

The captain jumped to his feet. “No. No way. No goddamned way! Tavus? Harron Tavus?”

“Ummm.” Tia searched her head, then gave up and pulled an envelope out of her pocket. She held out an old still, taken on the day her mom had met him. “That’s him,” she said.

The Captain leaned in. “That’s him, alright. Commander Harron Tavus of Havoc Squad. One of the most legendary soldiers in the service. It’s no wonder you’re so good at your age. If your mom was as good as you, that means you got good fighter genes from both sides. I am really impressed, ma’am!”

“So, my dad’s a hero?”

“Oh, yes! The very best of the best!”

“Havoc Squad,” Tia said to herself. “Commander Tavus of Havoc Squad.” She hadn’t ever thought about him. Her mother had been all she’d needed, and her uncle. But now… she was no longer alone! She still had family out there, and she knew a way to find him.

But would he accept her? Sure, with genetic testing, she could prove she was his. But it might be better if she proved herself first.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“That’s wonderful,” the Captain smiled. “And since you’re a little hero yourself—helping me bust that slaver gang and all—I think I’ll pay your application fee for you. Don’t worry, it’s just twenty credits.”

“Twenty credits!”

“Only to those of us already in the Armed Forces. It’s a hundred for regular people. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do good. You’ll be a great soldier for the Republic.”

“Thank you!”

“And you can have these too,” he said, passing over a blaster, a single-edged long knife, and a short thrusting dagger. “I picked those off one of the Trandos. They’ll serve you well, until you can upgrade.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help promising talent. TG?”

The Astromech beside him piped up. The captain smiled at her. “Your application has been processed. Just show them this code, and you’ll be taken to the test. Be good.”

“I will,” Tia smiled, taking the disk. “I promise.”

She had a bit of work to do before the big day. She couldn’t attend the entrance exam on unsteady feet! No, she was going to recover before the big day. Then she’d become an elite soldier. Her parents would be proud of her.

*

Chapter 7: The Healer

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

0 ATC, an hour since the death of Master Ven Zallow
Coruscant

‘Dear Aryn,’ Devel wrote before pausing. How did one write a letter like this? What could one even say? What words could gently help him break such horrible news, and to the kindest person he had ever met, no less?

Devel looked out the window of the garage. Thick pillars of smoke rose from the Temple. He thought he could hear the screams, though that should be impossible. He decided to try again.

‘Dear Aryn.
Please forgive me for what I am about to tell you. Coruscant has been occupied, and the Temple has fallen to the enemy.’ A tear rolled out of his eye. He wiped it off before continuing. ‘They came out of nowhere. A shuttle full of Sith crashed into the Temple atrium. Before I could even get there, the fighting was almost over. I arrived just in time to see a Sith deliver the killing blow to Master Ven Zallow. I… forgive me. But I do not have the words to… forgive me.’

He wept for another spell, only stopping when a kind Rodian child gave him her doll. He hugged it for a moment, then returned it to her.

<Do you feel better now?>

“Yes, thank you.”

The child smiled and left, looking for another person she could help. Devel was glad that even in such a dark time, there was someone out there spreading light. Even if that someone was fifty centimeters tall, and probably didn’t understand what was going on.

‘You probably Sensed it already, but I thought you deserved to hear it from a friend. As to everything else…
The Sith fleet bombed the capital, but did not destroy us, as many expected. It hasn’t been too long yet. But I think they don’t intend to stay long. Coruscant is too big for that. I think they’re holding us hostage.
No matter what happens, Master Ven Zallow’s absence will be felt for the next fifty years.
I’m afraid, Aryn. For all of us, but especially for you. You are one of the brightest lights in the galaxy. I shudder to think what you might be going through right now.
I hope I survive. If I do, please allow me to help you through this. It is the least I can do for you.’

That felt like such a pithy thing to say. Aryn was… Aryn meant a lot to him. He was deeply in love with her. Had been, since their very first meeting fifteen years ago. He had, in fact, been working up the nerve to make his affections known to her, the next time they met. But it was insensitive, now.

She probably knows, anyway.

‘With deepest respect, and my sympathies.
Devel.’

He got a reply within minutes.

‘Thank you, Devel. You’re a good friend, and a good man. Thank you for telling me, even though you can’t be out of the water yet. It means something that the first thing you thought to do, was inform me. However, it’s as you guessed; I Felt it when he died. It hurt like no other wound I’ve ever taken before. I’m feeling lost right now, and will probably take you up on your offer when I can. I’m sorry for what you endured, as well. It must have been so hard… but I take your letter to mean that the experience hasn’t broken you. For that, I’m glad. I’ll contact you when I can. Until then, please stay safe.
Love,
Aryn.’

Devel clutched the datapad tightly. He allowed another wave of pain to engulf him. When it passed, he picked himself up and walked to the nearest hospital.

“Excuse me,” he told the receptionist. “I’m a Padawan. A Healer. Please allow me to help you treat the wounded.” The receptionist’s eyes were hostile for the first few seconds, but then she sighed. “You poor, poor child. I’m sorry you had to see such a thing firsthand.” Devel was frequently mistaken for an adolescent, thanks to his size. “Just go on in. Queues are full. Just pick a bed and start doing your magic. And don’t worry about the Sith. We’ll try to keep your presence secret.”

Devel did as he was told. He was glad for something to occupy his mind. There was plenty to do here, many in need of help. Most people had taken severe injuries, and there wasn’t enough kolto to go around. This made his presence useful to everyone.

After about thirty minutes of hard work, he heard a commotion outside. At first, he thought to ignore it, as his skills were much needed in here. But eventually, a tall, bald Sith in black armor shouldered his way past the guards and queues. He had a wounded Twi’lek in his arms. Devel almost fainted when he recognized the man as Master Ven Zallow’s murderer.

“Ah, a Jedi Healer, eh? How fitting that I find you here; that one of your kind must now serve your conquerors.” He pushed a woman out of the bed and deposited his woman onto it. “You will Heal her. Or everyone here will die. If anything happens to her, everyone here will die. Got it?”

Unable to speak, Devel just nodded. The tall Sith left.

Everyone stared daggers at the Twi’lek, making her flinch and look around the room with frightened eyes. “Do not worry, Miss. Your companion was quite clear. No one will harm you.”

“It’s not that bad,” she said in accented Basic. “I tried to tell him that I’m fine—"

Devel placed a palm on her head and began the Healing process. “No, you’re not. You have a broken rib, and a vertebra is out of position slightly. Fractured tailbone too. And your lekku was crushed by some impact. I know how painful that can be for your species. Internal injuries… if he hadn’t brought you here, and to me especially, you wouldn’t have lived through the night.”

The woman’s eyes betrayed her surprise and fear.

“Lie easy now. I’ll heal you in no time.”

There was a definite level of guilt in her eye. “What is your name, child?”

“… Devel. My name is Devel.”

“… mine’s Eleena. Eleena Daru.”

Devel once again responded with just a nod. He Focused on nothing but the Healing. He mended each and every injury he’d noted. Despite the severity, it didn’t take long. But the speed made things uncomfortable for the Twi’lek; a fact he couldn’t bring himself to care about. “There. It’s done.”

“Already?”

“Yes.” Devel examined her again, just in case. “How do you feel? Anything not working the way it should?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine. The pain is all gone too. Thank you.”

“If you need a bed, just take mine. That one. I’ll be on my feet for a while.”

“Thank you. Really.”

*

It was around midnight when Devel was finally done. A nurse handed him a small ration pack.

“I kept a little aside for you,” he said. “We’re running low.”

“Already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, thanks for letting me have one.”

“Well, after all you’ve done…”

“Thank you.” Devel looked around. “The Sith’s companion. Where is she?”

The nurse stiffened with rage. He looked like he might spit on the floor. “She left. Some Imperial shuttle came and picked her up.”

“So long as the Sith has no reason to hurt us.”

“Oh, right. Of course, Jedi.”

“I’ll take that nap then. Don’t hesitate to wake me up if I’m needed. I can recover my stamina faster than you can replenish your stocks of kolto. And let other hospitals nearby know I’m here, in case they’re in need.”

“Sure thing. Take care, Jedi.”

*

Hours Later

Devel’s eyes snapped open. He ran out of the hospital at his usual, sluglike speed. He looked around the skies vainly, but of course, mundane eyes weren’t up to the task.

Aryn has returned to Coruscant. But the blockade… she’s running the blockade? But why? Master Ven Zallow is already dead! Unless… is she here for me? No. No, that couldn’t be. Maybe I’m imagining things. It’s been a long day. He gripped his palms together tightly.

“Force, please take care of her! I can’t lose her as well!”

He panicked when he Sensed her uncontrolled descent into the atmosphere. He began to hyperventilate, thinking of his beloved friend hitting the ground at several hundred kilometers per hour. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he Sensed her alive and well once she reached the ground.

A patrolling guard seemed to notice him sobbing softly on the floor. Perhaps thinking that he was reliving the horrors of the Temple, he put his arms around Devel. “There, there,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. You’re going to be alright.”

Devel nodded as he cried. He was going to be fine… and so was Aryn.

*

Days Later.

Devel was perplexed. He could somewhat Sense Aryn’s location through the Force, but could not make out heads or tails of what she might be up to. He considered sending her another message, but there was a good chance it might get intercepted. The previous message was innocuous, but anything sent now risked exposing her.

Had she been sent on a secret mission? Was she here to secure the Padawans and younglings? For he knew that many were currently missing.

Yes. I’m sure that’s what she’s doing.

“Devel!”

“Yes, Nurse Gillian?”

“There’s been an emergency broadcast. The Imps are going to leave Coruscant soon.”

“Oh? How soon?”

“As soon as they’re finished negotiating.”

“Negotiating? I see. We were hostages to force an unfavorable settlement.”

“That’s right. Damned Sith… liars and bandits, the lot of them.”

“Was there anything else in the broadcast?”

Gillian gritted her teeth. “Mostly deranged gloating. That Angral is a real pig. I hope someone makes him suffer.”

“It is wrong to wish harm on others. Even on Sith. We do what the Force wills, but torture or prolonged deaths are not what the Republic stands for—”

“Yes, Sir.” The nurse patted his head. “Come on inside. Some Sith are still killing any Jedi they find. Their little victory celebration.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Devel shook his head. “Something is happening. A friend is in trouble. I need to help her.”

“Do you need help yourself?”

“It would be best if I went alone.”

“Alright. Take care of yourself, Kid.”

Devel raised his hood. He wasn’t blessed with a powerful body, but his strength in the Force was prodigious. Despite not having practiced very often, he was confident that his Force Camouflage would hide him from all but the most adept sentries.

Hold on, Aryn. I’m coming.

*

Devel’s hunt for Aryn was largely uneventful. Most of Coruscant’s populace was staying indoors, only venturing out when necessary. The Sith did not patrol the ground, since they controlled the ground defenses and the orbit.

If only Aryn’s journey was as quiet. Twice, he Sensed her get into violent clashes. Twice, he Sensed her barely escape death. He was certain that the bald Sith was involved in both clashes, so he quickened his pace.

He reached Aryn outside a docking bay. The doors parted, and the Sith walked out. Devel was so fixated on Aryn, that he had ignored the other presence.

“Who’s there?” the Sith demanded. “What’s this… another Jedi—oh, wait. It’s you, isn’t it? The one who Healed Eleena.”

“That’s right,” Devel said.

The hostility seemed to drain out of the Sith. He seemed almost melancholy. “She spoke highly of you. You treated her well.”

“It’s not like you left me much choice.”

“True, but you still saved her life. It means something to me, even if it was forced. I take it, you are here for Leneer? She is inside. She’ll be alright.”

Devel had noticed the Twi’lek in his arms. “Your partner…”

“She is fine. Despite herself, Leneer was not capable of harming her. I suppose her Master’s teachings ultimately meant more to her than her vengeance.”

“Jedi do not seek revenge.”

“So it would seem. Now, go on. I am no longer your enemy, this day. But when the war resumes, you had best not get in my way.”

Devel raced inside to find Aryn leaning against a wall. “Aryn!”

She turned around. “Devel? What’re you doing here?”

He ran upto her, and had to fight the impulse to throw his arms around her. “I Sensed you arrive. I’ve been looking for you!” He took a closer look. “You’re hurt! I can Heal you.”

“I’ll be fine. Malgus was merciful.”

“That was Darth Malgus?”

Aryn looked at him sharply. “You saw him leaving? Did he see you? Did he try to attack you?”

“I—yes, I met him. But he let me go. I treated his partner when she was injured.”

“I see. His soft spot for her is more tender than I thought.”

“Please, Aryn. Let me treat you. Just in case. You’re a little wobbly right now.”

She sighed, then smiled weakly. “Alright.”

He took his time going over her. Through the Force, he checked every cubic millimeter of her body for cuts, scrapes, tears, bruises, sprains, breaks, burns, or anything else that was even remotely treatable. “You took some hard knocks there, didn’t you? Nothing too serious, however.”

“Mhm.”

“Aryn… what Malgus said. Did you really come here for revenge?”

She was silent for a while. “Yes. Yes, I did. But I just couldn’t do it.”

“I’m glad you couldn’t. I didn’t want to lose you too.”

She patted the floor right next to her. “Sit down with me.”

“Alright.”

They were both silent for a while. At last, she spoke up again. “I watched the recording. Of Master Ven’s death.” She sounded so tired.

“I’m sorry, Aryn.”

“So am I. You loved him too. And you saw it happen in person. You must be hurting too.”

“I—”

“What happened, exactly? How did you survive the slaughter? What did you do afterwards?”

“It’s not some fantastical tale of gallantry,” Devel hung his head. “I was reading when the shuttle rammed the Atrium. I began running to the gate as soon as I heard the noise. I thought I could do something; Healing, Battle Meditation, Shielding… but it was over before I got there. I’m sorry. I’m so slow… I’m always so slow!”

“It’s okay, Devel. You did your best. And when you couldn’t do anything, you didn’t try to throw your life away. You survived that catastrophe. I’m glad you did.”

She waited for him to continue. “After killing the Defenders, the Sith abandoned it. They just left. I snuck out through the side entrance. I saw his death, playing in repeat inside my head, every step of the way.” Devel shuddered. “When I finally had a logical mindset again, my first thought was to call you.”

“Thank you. I appreciated it. I was glad there was someone who reached out to me like that.”

“I was at the Uma’ark Warehouse for a short time, seeking shelter. After I sent the letter to you, I walked to the closest hospital, Master Mical’s Sanctuary, and began treating the injured.”

Aryn chuckled. “Of course you did.”

“Malgus entered after some time. He put his companion on the bed in front of me. He told me to Heal her, if I didn’t want everyone inside dead. She was lucky he was looking out for her. She was closer to death than she had imagined.”

“But she was just his slave, in the end. Even if he loves and values her, her actions are not her own. I do not hate or blame her.”

“Once I was done treating her, I returned to the other patients. Not long after I was done, I Sensed your arrival on this planet. I set out to find you, hoping to aid you in whatever mission you’d been assigned.”

“You’re always so thoughtful,” she smiled.

“So the Council didn’t send you?”

She grimaced. “No. After Sensing Master Ven die, I was caught up in this powerful tide of despair. Enough to take that poor Twi’lek hostage.”

“You took her hostage?”

The unintended accusation in his voice seemed to hurt her. “Yes. I will regret how far I fell for the rest of my life.”

“But you did climb back out,” Devel said comfortingly. “You didn’t do anything that couldn’t be healed. Right? That has to count for something.”

“Right.” Her expression told him it wasn’t the same thing. She changed the topic. “I’ve been disavowed from the Order.”

“What?”

“For attempting to run the blockade without permission. They had no choice. The Sith had ships in orbit. They couldn’t risk an orbital bombardment when I was discovered. They even went so far as to tell the Sith that I was coming.”

“The Jedi will take you back,” Devel said with utter surety. “They always do.”

“Yes. But the question is: do I want to go back?”

“What? Of course, you do! The Order is your life!”

“Not anymore. Everything changed. I can’t stay.” She regarded him for a while before heaving a troubled sigh. “I know what you want to say. I know you’ve been struggling to say it for a long time.”

“I… I love you.” His voice was so small.

“Devel… I’m still too off-balance to be able to return that honestly.”

“How did you feel about me last week?”

“It’s never that simple with an empath,” she reminded him softly. “We feel the same emotions that people do. And we reflect emotions directed our way. I care about you, deeply. But I dare not call it love. All my life, I’ve avoided romantic attachments. Tried to pretend I’ve never felt attraction to anyone. And now, I need to sort through it all. Would you like to accompany me while I do?”

“Would I have to leave the Order?” He cringed as the question left his mouth. Why couldn’t he have just said ‘yes’?

Aryn laughed softly. “You’re right. Your path is with the Order. At least, for now. It would be wrong for me to take you away. Leaving is a big deal. If we take that step, we need to do so for the right reasons.”

“What is the right reason?”

“That we cannot live up to the ideals of our Order anymore. Maybe, that we don’t believe.”

“You do not believe in—?”

“My faith has been more than just shaken. It was torn out by the roots.”

“And there’s no going back?”

“Not now, at least. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted, Devel. You deserve it, if anyone does. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man as sincere and dedicated, as you.”

Please don’t leave me. Not now. Don’t leave me all alone! But he didn’t make his plea out loud.

“Devel… I can’t be your partner or companion. But there is something that I want to give you.” He looked into her eyes, and thought he knew what she was offering. She nodded and they both leaned in, and their lips brushed against each other. She gave him his first, and only kiss. It was the most precious moment of his life. She leaned her forehead against his. “I think I do love you after all, Devel.”

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you.”

“And I’m sorry I can’t stay. Will you let me write to you?”

“Always. Always!”

She took him in her arms. He felt the warmth of her cheek against his forehead. “All the best. I’ll be praying for you. And I will always love you.”

“You too. I’ll always be grateful to you. You showed me that I wasn’t worthless. You showed me how to laugh again. You held me when I was down. You taught me how to Listen, to Feel the Force. I will always remember the kindness you’ve shown me.”

She held him in silence for a while longer. He wanted to kiss her again, but could not. He wanted to ask her to make love to him, but he would not. She was leaving, and she had already given him his parting gifts.

They said their farewells, and she boarded the shuttle in the Docking Bay. Devel watched it until it faded into the horizon. Behind him, he thought he Sensed a life winking out, followed by a deep anguish, and an unquenchable rage that was born from it. He did not want to be the next person Malgus crossed.

*

Chapter 8: The Tournament

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

1 ATC,
Blood Temple Academy, Ziost

Kairegane Rooks was an odd one, Vette decided. A real mix of contradictions.

She loved the spotlight, but stayed out of cliques and factions. She had friends, but was not tied down to any groups. She certainly did have her hangers-on, though. Fanclubs that were basically cliques in and of themselves. Vette couldn’t decide who the worst of the bunch was. Ffon, the Pureblood Sith who never stopped reminding others of his lineage; Thana Vesh, who was a homicidal pyromaniac that drooled at the possibility of being invited into Lady Kai’s household as a retainer; the stunningly gorgeous Nero Heyward, who was always bragging about his prowess as an actor; Eklairen du Font, who often and loudly talked about his impending ‘betreth’… ‘betroth’… screw it… ‘engagement’ to Lady Kai; and Aeolus Kelvensin, the cold noble whose father had gained a lot of press when he killed a Jedi Master. At least there were some who weren’t bad, like Cytharat. That one gave Vette cakes in exchange for some silence, which beat threats of dismemberment any day of the week. Well, Nero wasn’t too bad either, once you got past his tame narcissism. He never tried to hurt anybody, just let them know that he’s the most elegant, handsomest being in the galaxy.

Another thing was that Kai loved fighting, but rarely ever harmed anyone. Rivals often got second, third, and thirtieth chances with her… though few went beyond five. The only one who’d reached thirty-one was Nero, who loved swordfighting enough to not care if he lost. He wasn’t bad, but he was out of Kai’s league. Still, she appreciated his love of the craft enough to give him a good time. She approved of drive, and constructive passion.

But perhaps the biggest thing about her was how despite being quite self-absorbed, she was a sweet and caring sorta gal—

“Oy, Vette? Can you hand me the peanut butter? It’s on the top shelf.”

—most of the time. “I really hate you.”

Kai laughed and clapped Vette’s shoulder. The Twi’lek had accidentally given her sass within moments of meeting her, only to be given the tightest of hugs, so she had learned early that the Ebon Prince craved this sort of thing. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m great, thank you for asking. It’s nice to have a fake shock-collar instead of the real deal.”

“Please bear with that until we can get you to Kouhaush Muin. In most cases, people would be too worried about getting on my bad side to hurt you. But I am legally obliged to follow certain rules while I’m here. Like no disemboweling the teachers, if they hurt you.”

“Right. And I’m not complaining! I’m grateful you saved me from that creep, Vemrin. I still have nightmares about his sh*t-eating grin.”

“You poor thing.” Kai’s voice held no trace of teasing this time. She gave Vette a hug, which the Twi’lek accepted. “But in your defense, it’s only been a week. Healing doesn’t happen overnight. Give it time.”

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me use your therapist. Do you really need one?”

Kai sighed. “Not anymore, though I once did. You see, I had thirty-odd aunts and uncles when I was born. By the time I was five, they were all dead. All of them. My Mam was the last one to die. I never really understood it, until that day. And that’s when my servants put it all on me. They had to, since that bloated sack of slime, Angral tried taking everything. Including me. Tried to claim me as his wife. It… damn, it horrified me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m good, now. Mostly.”

“Well… I’m here if you want me.” Vette felt stupid saying that, but Kai clapped her shoulder again.

“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. I do like having a witty little party light with me. Even if it is a smoll one.”

“I’m not small, you’re gorgant—gorgan… you’re overlarge!”

“Try to find the exact word you were trying to use just now, and I’ll buy you a modest speeder.”

“Deal!”

A fortnight or so ago, Vette had been caught attempting to break into the tomb of some Naga Shadow, or something like that. She didn’t really care to remember. The next few days she’d spent getting tortured by shock-collar in her cage. Her jailor had been a sad little man with no life outside of his smelly jail block. But the real problem came when Darth Baras—the spider—decided to use her knowledge to lead his apprentice candidate back inside. To recover a Lightsaber. Vemrin had delighted in activating her shock collar at 20% power, several times an hour. And took stills of her writhing in agony. By the time they’d gotten back, Darth Baras had realized that Vemrin liked zapping her, and offered to let him have her.

Vemrin had accepted, as this gave him the right to something else entirely. She could still hear that creepshow gloating, “I’m going to enjoy violating you till your throat falls out from all that screaming, slave! Perhaps we’ll use your shock collar too! I’ve heard it’s quite the pleasurable experience when used in certain… situations!”

But Lady Kai, who had been speaking to Baras on the comm, interrupted the depraved jerk’s fantasy. “I like the look of her,” she said absent-mindedly. “She’ll go well with my servants. Give her to me, Vemrin. Unspoiled. I’ll pay you twenty thousand credits.”

Vemrin had been taken aback, but accepted. Twenty thousand was a bargain for someone like her, Vette knew. And Vemrin didn’t come from money.

Still, she’d been quite apprehensive about her new Master, until Lady Kai had welcomed her in like a lost friend.

“You never did tell me why you saved me,” Vette told Kai.

“I don’t like slavery. I don’t like rape. And I didn’t like how Vemrin was looking at you. Take your pick.”

“You are weird. In a good way, but you are weird.”

“You have no idea.” Kai stretched. “Now it’s your turn. Why did you try to break into Korriban? Surely, you didn’t think it would end well.”

“It was a job. And I was stupid.”

“Who gave you the job?”

“Some jerk. Tricked us into thinking there was an ancient Twi’lek artifact in Naga’s tomb.”

“‘Us’? Your band of friends, were they going to come back for you?”

“Looks like they were. I saw them on the way out. From a distance.”

Kai whistled in admiration. “You want to go back to them? I can make it happen. Perhaps not now, but soon…”

“I’ll think about it. I like hanging out with you. You’re a good gal. A good pal.”

“Thank you, Vette. I don’t have many pals these days.”

“But you do have them?”

“Yes. Back home on Kouhaush Muin. But… there’s a wall there. I’m their ruler, after all. So even the ones I f*ck see me differently.”

“You… didn’t have to tell me that part. How many do you f*ck, anyway?”

“Three. I’m kind of in the mood now… but alas, I’m a little cautious jumping in bed with fellow Sith. I don’t trust any of the others either.”

“Wait, you’d rather sleep with a slave than a Sith?”

“A trustworthy one, yes. I can’t take just anybody, Vette. I feel a little vulnerable whenever I do the deed.”

“Got it. But I’m surprised. I thought most nobles look down on slaves.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Yeah. You’re not most nobles.”

Kai checked the time. “We’ve still got an hour before the tournament. What would you like to do till then?”

“I’d like to steal Principal Maynard’s gold hat. Stick it in a bin somewhere.”

“Make it Jindron’s bin, would you? That guy’s a douche. Tournament won’t miss him.”

“The messy guy? Good call. His trash is bound to be extra smelly!”

As Vette left Kai’s room, she almost ran smack into a tall, bald Sith almost as tall as her friend. And dressed in black armor. “El—Eleena?” he asked, looking stunned and upset for a moment. “No… you’re not… who are you? No. Never mind.” His voice became harder. “Run along now, slave. And watch where you’re going.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, my Lord.”

*

Vette must have been successful in her prank, as the Principal turned up without his hat. “Greetings, oh mighty Darths of the great heights; Greetings, honored lords and ladies of the realm. Greetings, treasured guests. It is my honor to welcome you all today, for this year’s Blood Temple Academy’s Prestigious Sabahan’nur Tournament! We would like to welcome, as our chief guest, the Conqueror of the Jedi Temple himself; Darth Malgus!”

The guest of honor rose and shouldered the gaudy old man out of his way.

“Thank you for your warm welcome, Principal. It brings back memories, being here today. Has it really been forty years since I competed myself? Truly brings a tear to the eye. But we are Sith. The best welcome you can give us is the clash of bloody weapons, and the fall of Lightning. Contestants, take your place! You start in thirty seconds!”

Someone remembered to set the countdown. Kairegane grinned in satisfaction as she prepared for all-out war. “This is what I was born for!” she declared.

*

The tournament was a quagmire, like most battlefields. Supposedly.

All sixty candidates just rushed at the closest opponent and began pounding them into submission.

Thana Vesh was the first to draw blood… so to speak. “THIS IS HOW WE DO IT IN THE BIG LEAGUES, YOU FILTHY PEASANTS!” she cried, shooting not Lightning from her fingertips, but gouts of Flame. She set several candidates on fire and wounded two more with her sword before Cytharat knocked her out cold.

The ring of metal on metal echoed all over the arena. Taunts, jibes, war cries, and wordless roars flew through the air like several hives’ worth of disturbed bees. Some students opted to use Force attacks, like Thana had, but few could throw her degree of power yet. Worse, most of them just wore themselves out early.

The sword was what reigned on this battlefield.

As Kairegane engaged Cytharat, Eklairen attacked her from behind, aided by several sycophants. He managed to score a stab wound to her left shoulder before she dropped a hammer fist into his head. She delivered a roundhouse kick that tossed him out of the courtyard. As he crashed down to the uncaring earth, she screamed at him, “AND DON’T COME BACK, YOU SNIVELLING TOAD! I WOULDN’T MARRY YOU IF YOU WERE THE LAST BEING IN THE GALAXY! NEXT TIME YOU TELL PEOPLE WE’RE ENGAGED, I’M FEEDING YOU TO YOUR CRONIES!”

She ducked away from Cytharat’s weapon, grabbed one of the sycophants and tossed him at the Pureblood. She then pummeled the other three.

Nero attacked Cytharat, pushing him back with a fierce offensive which the latter bore quite well.

Aeolus kicked a younger acolyte in the face, breaking her nose and knocking out her front teeth. Kairegane noticed and attacked him, still fending off the last of Eklairen’s goons. Her fist smashed Aeolus out of the large arena and into the reconstruction room, avenging the poor girl he’d maimed.

She swung her weapon in a figure-eight to ward off a few blows from another pair of attackers. She swept her foot out in an arc, knocking one off his feet. The flat of her blade slapped the other acolyte in the ass. As she attempted to stand up again, she almost forgot that a leg was hurt. Nero attacked her next, his usual smile on his handsome, dark face. “Could this be the day I beat you for the first time?” he wondered.

Kai grinned at him. “Anything’s possible!” She attacked with a powerful Djem-so kata, which he deflected with the elegant Makashi. Someone tried to interfere, but Nero barked at him.

“OY! DO YOU WANT ME TO CRIPPLE YOU AND RIP OFF YOUR PRETTY HEAD? BE OFF WITH YOU THEN!”

“Nice Form,” Kai complemented as he took three elegant steps forward, with two perfect feints and a jab.

“Thank you! It looks good on the big screen. As would you, I’m sure. You’re superstar material!”

“I’m flattered. I might do a role, someday. For the right laughs.”

“It’s all about the laughs for you, isn’t it? That’s why I enjoy fighting you!” He was much shorter than her, and leaner too. But Makashi didn’t require strength. It was elegance itself, attempting to control balance and precision in the fight. Of course, Kai knew well how to take the initiative far out of his reach, but she had to reward her rival for his devotion to the art. She brought her blade down on his shoulder. He stepped back to avoid the blow, then reengaged. His thrust almost caught her in the stomach, but she slapped away the blade and riposted. She took to the air to avoid the second flanking attack from a different team. Nero almost got run through, but she extricated him from his predicament. Together, they beat back the enemy, and removed them from the game.

“How rude!” she mocked. “Can’t you see we’re dancing over here? Kindly wait your turn!”

“Thank you, my Lady. Now, where were we?”

“The climax.”

“My favorite part!”

Sparks flew as their blades met with renewed vigor. She parried a cross-cut, batted aside a diagonal, then knocked the blade out of his hands. He was about to hold up his hands in surrender, but Kai knocked him out with a strike to the solar plexus. The likes of Malgus were watching them today. This kind of weakness would be frowned upon. As an Ebon Prince, she was above their criticism, but Nero—born of a Force-blind, though wealthy family—would have seen it marked on his record.

Kai looked around to find she had just one other contestant still standing; the Cathar ex-slave, Jumar Ruark. Both of them were panting hard, but he had taken many more slight wounds than she had.

“So… it’s just the two of us!”

“I knew it would be.”

Kairegane struck as hard as she could. The first blow knocked his blade out of his hands and left his hands ringing, but he dodged her second and third blows. He kicked her in the gut, then tackled her to the ground. He seized her horns, but his hands were still too numb to hold on for long. So, he tried his legs again. But she was ready this time. She blocked his kick with her knee, and threw a series of punches aimed at his throat, jaw, and solar plexus. He blocked or evaded most, but took a hit to his chest. But something kept him going despite the blinding pain, and his leg launched him into another shoulder tackle. He hit her in the stomach again. She threw him off with a hammer blow and a kick to the jaw. The second hit had been enough to seriously wound her.

This one… was good.

She began a meditative trance that stopped whatever was bleeding as her opponent returned to his feet. “You won’t catch me like that again,” she warned. It was no boast. She’d gotten careless, that was all. She’d thought victory was hers when he lost his blade. And proper use of his arms.

I won’t make that mistake again. Ever.

Jumar gritted his teeth, his white fur rippling and standing on edge. He went for his sword, but this time, Kairegane tackled him. She slap kicked his face as he rose, stunning him; then ended with an uppercut so powerful that it sent him into the air. She winced when she realized that was too much force. But she could Sense that he was alive. For now.

I hope you survive. You’re a true warrior. I’ll be happy to fight you again. Perhaps I can even invite you to my Household.

Gasping for breath and ignoring the pain in her belly, she raised her fist in triumph.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Malgus called. “Your victor!” There was thunderous applause from all corners.

Many shouted “Marry me, Tiarna!” Others cried “I’d like to wrestle you! In private!”

“By long tradition, the winner of the Sabhan’nur Tournament is allowed a request, in addition to the glory of their victory. What do you ask for, Lady Rooks?”

Kairegane picked up her sword and grinned fiercely. “I want more! I’ve not had my fill yet! And I would like a bout with a full Sith Lord. Can you give me that, Lord Malgus?”

Everyone grew silent when they realized what she was asking. But Malgus seemed like he’d expected as much. “Granted!” he called.

Kairegane wondered if he might demand a wager, for if he won, but he didn’t. Malgus leapt down from the podium, leaving a crater where he landed. He summoned an acolyte’s blade into his hand and pointed it at her chest.

“Come now, Tiarna! Show the Empire the kind of Sith you are shaping up to be!”

“This isn’t about the Empire, or the Sith. I just love contest!”

“Such is our way.”

Malgus attacked without further ado. Kairegane sidestepped his attack, then lunged in with a feint. He got out of the way, then tried to hit her with the hilt. She caught the blow and tried to mirror it, but Malgus grabbed her wrist. They stood there for a moment, deadlocked. It was a contest of brute strength… and they were both closely matched.

Malgus tried to kick her, but Kairegane backflipped out of the way. Both grips broke, and the combatants were free. Malgus rushed her before she had landed, but her blade blocked all three of his blows. She tossed an attack at him, but it missed her mark. He backhanded her face, and stumbled back to feel what mark the blow had left on his armor.

“Impressive!” he grinned. “You are already a better warrior than I had hoped. You will be an excellent asset of the Empire in the near future. But let’s give you the real fight you were asking for. Let us go beyond the training gear. I see you have a Lightsaber hilt on your belt.”

“I’ve yet to find a suitable crystal for it, sadly.”

“Perhaps this will do…” he pulled one out of his belt. “It belonged to my Master. I have kept it for over forty years as a memento. Take it, as a token of my respect.”

Kairegane felt a thrill. This was more than she’d expected. She dropped the sword and pulled out her Lightsaber. With ease born from repeated drills, she disassembled her hilt and placed the crystal inside. She hit the ignition switch, and couldn’t help but give a wild grin as she flourished her Lightsaber.

“And now, we fight as Sith,” Malgus declared. “Don’t worry. I will not fight to kill.”

“Thanks for the opportunity,” Kairegane raised her blade in a high guard. Malgus readied himself for round two.

The fight was rejoined. It was beyond anything she could’ve imagined. The Lightsaber was a thing of transcendental beauty; a deadly blade of contained lightning that would kill her the second she forgot to respect it. Quite different from her training blade. She leapt into a power attack that Malgus stepped out of, then launched a rising strike that he blocked. She aimed nine blows at his chest and torso, which he deflected as only a man who had spent tens of thousands of hours practicing could.

She ducked a kick, blocked another backhand. She punched his face as their blades locked. He broke the lock, knocking her back a few meters. They both circled each other for a few seconds. She attacked first, and left a mark on his face…

“Excellent…” Suddenly, she Sensed him reach into his rage. His power increased tenfold. Caught off-guard, she stumbled back against the new offensive. Her blade failed to stop one blow completely, which resulted in a shallow slash across her face.

She rolled away, then leapt back to her feet.

“You look pleased,” Malgus noted the grin on her face as she felt her new scar.

“Oh, but I am!”

“Passion is good. Lust is good. But know temperance. Know how to be the master, not the slave.” He charged one last time, and this time she was too tired to avoid him completely. He knocked her hilt out of her hand and Called it into his hand. “You fight well. Remarkably. It’s hard to believe you’re not at your best today.” Kairegane’s eyes narrowed. How did he know about her condition? Had he Sensed it? “I predict you will be our finest warrior in a few years, outstripping myself and Darth Marr. But today, you lost.”

“I did, and it doesn’t matter. This duel was what I wanted. Thank you again, for this opportunity.”

“Were you anyone else, there would be a nonzero chance I killed you for your impertinence.”

“Luckily, I’m me. Tiarna Kairegane Rooks, the last of my bloodline.”

“More than that, your skills deserve your pride in them.” He handed her her blade back. “Stand. No… rise. I will look forward to your career, Tiarna.” As he walked away, Kairegane couldn’t help but smile broadly.

“You look a little creepy.”

“Owww! Vette! Damn, girl! You’re so small you can even sneak up on me!”

“No, you were just too busy grinning like a lil girl. Which, I suppose you are. I wish I could help you up, but you’re too heavy for me.”

Kai stood up and dusted herself off. “What a rude thing to say to a lady!”

Vette snorted as she led her off the arena. Away from all the cheering. “No, it ain’t! You’re already as tall as Malgus, and you’re still fourteen or something. And stronger too. If you’d faced him rested, you might have won.”

“Perhaps so… but I got what I wanted today.”

“Really.” Vette made sounding unenthusiastic so adorable that Kai wanted to hug her like a doll.

“I had to fight for my life today. I had to push myself to my limits, and beyond! This is what I live for! It sucks being as good as I am, let me tell you. You never get a contest that sets your heart going brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I feel so lonely like this.”

“Well… all I can say is, how sorry I am.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I don’t. I’ve been weak all my life. People pushed me around like a rat. They took from me cuz they knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I’ve gone to bed weeping, cause I’m so powerless. You are everything I wish I could be. Powerful, gorgeous, rich, dangerous—”

“Tall?”

“—and talented. Not to mention free. You do whatever you want, and no one can stop you. It’s just the galaxy’s luck that most of what you want doesn’t hurt anybody. The rest doesn’t hurt them permanently. But that doesn’t mean I’m being sarcastic here. I’m sure it really is a pain in the caboose being untouchable. Maybe you want to be touched. Right?”

“After a fight like that, I really wouldn’t mind being touched!”

“Got a guy in mind? Or a gal?”

“Are you interested?”

“I’m not your type. And you’re… umm… underage. I’m eighteen, you know. Also, you’re not my type either, sorry.”

“Too true. No, I’ve got nothing.” They returned to her quarters in silence. Kai realized that she’d not paid any mind to the announcements. She wondered when she’d get her trophy. She’d just waltzed out. She laughed at it all. She addressed Vette again. “Anyway. Hypothetical, Vette. Say that I put my considerable power, looks, wealth, deadliness, height, and talent at your disposal. What would you do?”

“I wanna get back at Cada Bliss,” she said at once. “He’s the one that set me up. I wanna meet Taunt and my old gang again. And I wanna start looking for my family. We got split up when I turned five, and searching is expensive.”

“Whoops! It looks like I just transferred a hundred thousand credits to your account.”

Vette jumped, then checked her wrist computer. “Wait, seriously?”

“Start looking into your little plot. And for your family.”

“Thank you! I will!”

“I look after my own, Vette. Even if you leave once your gang comes back, I’ll always be ready to help you.”

Tears welled up in Vette’s eyes. “Thank you! I don’t know what to say! I didn’t do anything to get this kind of treatment from you!”

“You make me laugh. That means a lot to me. You’re one of the few friends I have, who doesn’t have my title at the back of her head.”

“And I never will.” Vette hugged her. “I take it back. You are too good for this galaxy.”

Kai hugged her. “So are you, my little Vette. So are you.” She got up when a priority message tone played on her commlink. She took one look at it, and her mood darkened. “I think I need to do something about Angral. Yes… I’ll publicly challenge him to a Kaggath. That’ll shut him up.”

*

Chapter 9: The Pragmatist

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

2 ATC,
Umbara

Lana Beniko examined her head in the mirror. What covered it was still closer to stubble than even short, closely-cropped hair. She hated keeping it so short, but it couldn’t be helped. This academy was in a state of intermittent war with fleas and lice. Despite being here for only a quick trial, Lana wasn’t taking any chances. She was a pragmatist now.

Her parents used to love her hair, she reflected. Especially her mother. She used to love finding new ornaments to put there, then squeal about how perfect her little angel was.

At fifteen, Lana already looked very different from anything divine. Yellow had invaded her bright blue eyes, which were rimmed red from her constant late night study sessions. Her skin, always among the lightest out there, now looked pale. Despite being born to a beauty like Kelsa Beniko, Lana no longer believed she would turn heads.

Which suited her just fine, since Bensyn, Kagan, Alkiriel, and Lillia were all not the type to get hung up on looks. They loved her—and each other—for who she was. That was enough for her. She didn’t need the lines of suitors that Mum had still been receiving the last time Lana had seen her.

This is my penultimate trial, she thought. This one, then my final one set five weeks from now. After that… then what? She wondered what her path would be like. After nearly six years learning to be Sith—five on Eastdrift Academy on Ziost, and this past year mostly on Korriban—she did not dare hope for much. She did not dare dream.

She had grown nicely, she realized. She was no longer a soft child, but a worthy candidate for the title of Sith. The sobs that had once threatened to break out each time she was all alone were a thing of the past. She could make cold, calculated decisions without worrying about the people she hurt… who were usually her fellow apprentices.

She raised the hem of her shirt slightly, and inspected the scar left by a rival in the tomb of Marka Ragnos. It was healing well. It would soon disappear altogether. The one on her shoulder was also fading, but she couldn’t move it all the way just yet. She wished she’d been given a few more days to recover after her previous trial. It would’ve given her a chance for some study; to research the epiphany she’d had after recovering a clay tablet.

Instead, here she was, in unfamiliar territory, about to enter an unfamiliar ruin against rivals she knew nothing about. She knew the ones on Ziost and Korriban better than they knew themselves, having carefully spied on them for weeks before they were pitted against each other.

On the flip side, none of them knew her. They were sure to underestimate her. At least she knew this academy well; she had done her best to memorize as much about it as she could since hearing that she’d be coming here.

She got dressed, pulling her hood as far over her face as she could, buckled her sword across her waist, then exited her chambers with all the confidence she could project.

“Oy! Oy, Lana!” One of the local Acolytes waved her down. His name was Yari, and he was Umbaran.

“What is it, Yari?”

He fell in step beside her. “I’ve got what you requested,” he said softly. “A full bestiary of the fauna here on Umbara.”

“Thank you. The Academy’s library is quite incomplete.”

“It’s not a priority, that’s for sure.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Fifty credits.”

“That’s steep, for such a simple book.” Something you acquired in a single day. “Twenty.”

The Umbaran hesitated. “Deal,” he said. Lana was a little surprised that he didn’t haggle. She’d been willing to settle at thirty-five. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t want to take my next request?”

The acolyte whipped around. “Your next request?”

“I’m new here, and don’t have a lot of time to prepare. I’m going to give you a lot of credits over the next few days. Faster you finish one task, more you can get.”

His silver eyes were wide, and he licked his lips unconsciously. “Very well. What’s the second request?”

“Books on local plants.”

“You can tell me more, you know. If all you want are tomes, I’ll have an easier time finishing them all at once.”

“This way, I know how much to pay you for each one,” she smiled. He nodded and ran off. He was a rather simple one to work with. He had a lot of connections amongst the support staff, and knew how to get things quickly.

Kozarn Webb, another Umbaran Acolyte, was much more discreet. After catching his signal, Lana met him by the pantry. “I got what you asked for,” he said softly. “The reconnaissance reports on the ruins. Maps, notes, and observations.”

“Well done, Kozarn. I knew I could count on you.”

“It’s startling how soon you found that out. I went through great pains to not stand out.”

“Which was what I happened to be looking for. Now, about my end of the bargain. When Julian wakes up, he’ll find an Umbaran Rock Asp sleeping on his chest. No one knows how it got there. They’ll probably blame Elaric, considering yesterday. He has no alibi.”

“You’ve eliminated two of my rivals with a single move,” Kozarn said with satisfaction. “Which was one more than you’d offered. Thank you. It seems I owe you a favor.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

It wasn’t even daybreak yet, and it was already shaping up to be a productive day. Lana spent her early morning practicing swordplay, and the midmorning meditating. After that, she spent the next few hours skimming over the book Yari had got for her, paying extra mind to species that dwelled around the academy.

There sure are a lot of them, she thought. And almost all of them are dangerous. I expected this—no Sith would establish an academy in a safe haven, after all. But surely, there has to be something like a bottom-feeder here? Something which exists purely as prey? Apparently not. Each more dangerous than the last.

Many were imported species, like Rancors, Nexu, Hssiss, Varactyls, and Acklays. But there was a lot of local fauna too. The violet panthers, rhino bears, at least twelve different species of asps, fanged rabbits, spiny rats, skeeris, gladiopods, slybexes, vixii, and most intriguing of all, the stygian wolves.

Intriguing, because nothing was written about them, except for vague local legends. Frightening tales of ghostly wolves that understood loyalty and gratitude, but also vengeance and wrath. They were also famously capricious when they encountered a stranger. They could guide them safely out of danger, or lead them into a death trap.

But for all the stories, there was no evidence they existed. Even the details in the folklore were contradictory. Their size and shape varied across the tellings, as did the abilities attributed to them.

Despite all this, Lana felt a certain draw to the beasts.

Feeling hunger gnaw at her belly, she put down the book with a sigh and stood to stretch. She glanced at her chrono.

Would you look at that? I’ve been reading all day. Need to make up for lost time somehow.

“Beniko.”

Lana stood and bowed. “Dark Lord! You honor me with your presence.”

“Yes, I do,” Lord Anathemos agreed. “It’s not often we’re graced with a trainee from Korriban. The academy of the elites. We here, will only ever become assassins or spies.”

“A vital tool for those in charge.”

“Is it? None of us ever make Darth. Not unless we’re carted off to Korriban for our Trials. Years of training that we provide, patiently honing each acolyte’s abilities until they’re the perfect weapon, only for the credit for their rise to go to Korriban Academy when they reach the heights.”

“I’m sorry it is so,” Lana bowed lower. But of course, that’s why Korriban trainees who come here have such a high mortality rate.

“For myself, I don’t know what the fuss is all about.” Anathemos loomed closer. Lana didn’t have to pretend to be afraid, but she did exaggerate it. “So many of your schoolmates who end up here, end up dying miserably. Are you worried you’ll die here, Beniko?”

In answer, Lana gave him her most false, amused cackle; as if he’d told her a joke he thought was terribly amusing, and which she was forced to laugh at in respect to his station. He flinched. Perhaps realizing he had already lost this exchange by showing his weakness, he turned and fled.

How convenient that he omits the part where every single one of my dead ‘schoolmates’ took fifteen or twenty Umbaran Acolytes with them. And the ones that survived killed, on average, forty.

Lana herself had already killed twenty-two. Twenty-three, she corrected herself. Julian Krest, whose death she had confirmed before breakfast. Regrettably, she might have to kill Anathemos as well. The Principal of the Umbaran Academy had it out for her, and she had passively insulted him several times already. But the Overseers were much less willing to forgive the death of their own. The only way she could kill him, was by proxy.

Unfortunately, there was no one on this planet whom she trusted for such an endeavor. And she’d already used the asp trick to kill Julian. Maybe that was premature. I could easily have killed him during the excursion.

Lana stretched again, then left with her book. She had more plans to make, ere the sun set.

*

Lord Anathemos was fuming. Slaves, Acolytes, Attendants, and even fellow instructors jumped out of the way to avoid him.

You co*cky, stinking tart! he raged internally. I’m going to see to your demise personally! And I’m going to keep your head in a jar! Oh, yes! I’m going to enjoy making you scream!

“DIRK!” he screamed, bursting into his office.

His adjutant jumped so hard that he dropped a stack of papers he was holding. “Yes, Lord Anathemos!”

“Find out the details of Beniko’s trial. Find out who will be in the ruins at the same time as her. And bring them before me.”

*

Around 22:00

Lana yawned heavily. It had been weeks since she got a good night’s sleep, and Umbara Academy wasn’t the place to make up for it. The only way she’d be able to rest without reserve was if she and the others were together, guarding each other.

She was already starting to notice the effects of her harsh life. Aside from just the changes to her appearance wrought by the Dark Side—her eyes, for instance—her immune system had grown weaker. Her temper was always on the verge of snapping, and it took effort to maintain a cool exterior.

I hate this life, she thought to herself. I wish I could’ve grown up to be something else. Heiress to my family business, philosopher, poet, writer… teacher… the life of a Sith is antithetical.

A part of her wondered if she could gain anything by running away, seeing if the Jedi way was better, but from what she’d read—from unbiased sources—they were a different kind of ‘not okay’ for her. She wanted things from life, good things. She couldn’t be an ascetic. Sure, that might seem a good life to some, but she… she used to yearn. To hunger. Where was all that now? She no longer had the innocence to fully appreciate the beautiful things the galaxy had to offer. Now it was laced with cynicism. Every pretty thing had an ugly side she could not help but see.

Tears welled up again, and she let them. Here, in the dark woods, there was no one to catch her indulge in her weakness. She continued to weep, long after midnight had come and gone. When a rhinoceros bear charged at her, she Crushed it without letting the tears stop. When a mutated Rancor appeared, it may as well have drowned in her tears. But finally, at around one in the morning, she regained control over herself. Wiping away the last of the wetness, she realized she was being watched.

Her eyes darted from one shadow to the next, but she could see nothing. Even with the Force, she could See nothing. Sense nothing. Instinct was all that she had to go on, and it insisted that there was a living presence or five nearby. As time passed, she decided to simply let herself be watched. She was reasonably confident in her ability to defend herself. If something was going to hurt her, it would, eventually.

Instead, she decided to feed her growling stomach. She already had her main ingredient lying nearby.

She cut off the bear’s leg and began preparing it for a meal. With practiced ease, she got a fire going and began cutting nearby wild vegetables to go with the meat. Yari’s book on local herbs, which he’d brought right before dinnertime, was already proving its worth.

She pulled out her seasoning mixes from her pack—something she’d mixed herself, and never traveled without—and cooked herself the best meal she’d had in a while.

She wasn’t as hungry as she’d thought. She’d only gotten through a quarter of the portion she’d made for herself before she was satiated. No matter. She could pack the rest for later.

It was then she realized that the shadows around her were moving unnaturally.

A large block detached itself from a branch and leapt down. It growled loudly. Menacingly.

Lana maintained her composure. She blinked a few times, and the shadow resolved itself into something large and lupine. It was almost the size of the Rancor she’d killed… but that couldn’t be possible! It had been sitting in a tree, after all!

She put some of her stew on a plate and offered it to the shadow, which stopped growling. It stepped forward, its nose twitching as it took in the scents of her dish.

“That’s right,” she said softly. “My parents are hoteliers. They taught me how to make culinary wonders when I was in the cradle. I guarantee that you won’t find another cook as good as me, if you live a hundred years.”

Her words were infused with the Force. Like Persuasion, but not. Rather than compelling the beast to obey her, she was conveying her meaning. The beast moved forward at once, and began lapping up the food. As it did so, it became smaller and smaller until it was almost half the size of an average wolf, despite sharing a few of the same characteristics.

“A Stygian Wolf,” she said to herself. Other shadows emerged, seven including the one eating out of her plate. “A whole pack of them!”

They appeared like phantoms out of the rolling pools of shadow, and began lapping up her meal. She laughed at their delight. “It’s always nice to be appreciated. You want me to make some more? It will take time.”

The wolves gathered around her, nudging at her ankles and hands.

“More, it is, then.” Within twenty minutes, she had another batch ready, almost thrice as much as before. But this time, the wolves did not eat. Instead, they walked some distance away, and turned to look at her. “You want me to follow?”

She did. They took her to a cave, and the first one to approach her let out a howl that was almost indistinguishable from the wind. Nearly twenty shadows appeared from the surrounding foliage, and at once made their way to Lana. She fed them all, the younger ones out of her own palm. As the sun rose, she was able to see them with more clearly.

They’re adorable! She thought. They looked more like dogs than wolves. They had large, soulful eyes, and shorter, blunt snouts. Their ears were quite big too. And their tails wouldn’t stop wagging. Now that they were friendly, they were panting like adoring pets. The leader let her stroke its head, and a few others nuzzled against her. She picked up a few and hugged them as they began to play with her. Their soft fur tickled her cheek.

The sun rose higher, revealing the world as the most beautiful palette of purples and pinks.

Dew-covered flowers and leaves dazzled her with their radiance, and the clouds above—flamelike in the early morning sun—gave the perfect contrast. She became aware of songbirds singing, of a river flowing nearby, and panthers calling.

How… resplendent!

She kissed several of the wolves and whispered, “I guess I’m not the pragmatist I pretend to be. Not yet. Thank you for including me such a wonderful painting.”

*

Lana continued her preparations for her Trial. This time, she knew that she was being watched by more than just rivals. Stygian wolves appeared whenever she left the academy, and she took it upon herself to cook a nice meal for them a few more times.

But they weren’t after her meals. They seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, a fact that almost made her cry again. Almost.

She observed them as the days went by. They were just as adept at hunting alone, as they were in packs. They used guile and cunning ambushes to bring down larger prey. And when they were attacked by a large gladiopod, they used superior tactics to wear it out before Tio, the leader, brought it down. Feints, false retreats, ambushes, playing dead, and even leading it into an area thick with pollen. Sneezing a whole bunch herself, and tears streaming down out of irritated eyes, Lana was surprised to see that gladiopods were allergic to this particular type of pollen. A lesson for me too, I suppose. She sneezed a few more times, then dashed out of the glade so that she could purge herself of the allergens.

Some of the wolves barked apologetically, and played with her as she recovered.

They lost a wolf in the initial clash, but it was a testament to their skill that they hadn’t lost more. They tore the carcass of their dead pack mate back to their territory, and buried it in a several different spots. She wondered if they were instinctively covering their tracks; ensuring that few found their bodies to learn their secrets. It was a little frightening. Perhaps in half a million years or so, they might develop sentience. They spent the night howling mournfully, clearly a lament for their lost mate.

For the most part, Lana stayed out of their way. The only times she intervened was when a Rancor attacked their den, and when a vixus attempted to devour several adults.

Meanwhile, thanks to supplies provided by Yari, Lana was able to poison almost a dozen more rivals. Six more, she killed in the catacombs beneath the academy. But none of them came close to harming her.

I suppose this is the difference in training, and ability. For all its horrors, Korriban certainly brought out its acolytes’ potentials. She wondered why Anathemos wasn’t dead yet. Two of the Korriban trainees who had survived his attention were Darths Mekhis and Mortis. There were others too, many who were even more notorious for holding grudges. And yet here he was. She wondered if she’d made a huge mistake provoking him.

No. I am Sith. If I submit to him now, submission will forever be my hallmark. I don’t plan on being one of the foul Darths like Angral, but I will make the most of this life. For that, I need to be strong. And to show others that I am, too.

The day of her Trial drew ever closer, and she worried that she might not be ready in time. She was proven partially right; two days before the trial, Yari was killed for incompetence, though Lana felt sure it was because he’d been helping her.

It stopped her from getting her hands on more ingredients for poisons and stims, so she was forced to make do with the seven vials of poison, and three stims that she’d made.

She felt mildly disgusted. She’d passed the average kill count of a survivor. She hated it. This was the price Sith paid to rise through the ranks. Right now, she was paying just a portion of it; losing a bit of herself with each, callous kill. At some point, it stopped being a price. Eventually, it would be borne only by her victims. And she would have become a cruel butcher. Just the sort of person she wished to avoid becoming.

Her parents’ values seemed to be slipping out of her fingers with every passing day.

She lied as easily as she breathed. She killed ten people every day. She was no longer kind unless it suited her.

The best that could be said about her was that she had never broken her word, so far. She was faithful to those she cared for. She took pains to avoid killing. She still aided the unfortunate, where she could. And she treated the weak with compassion.

But that was all with the caveat ‘for now.’ She knew she would only become worse with time.

She sighed. There was no point in dwelling on this. If she was changing now, then so be it. She could change again someday. Try to reclaim the person she envisioned herself as a child. Yes, the ultimate goal of the Sith was to break free of their chains. She would do it. She would grow strong enough to survive this barbarity.

It was either that… or die.

*

Lana returned from the jungle at around dawn after saying goodbye to her friends. Perhaps for the last time. She took a brief nap in her room, then finished her morning exercises. She got the message she’d been waiting for after her bath.

“I trust you’re done loitering around, Acolyte.” Overseer Harkun was a cheery little ray of joy, as always. “You’re about to embark on your next trial. And it’s a simple one… for a Sith. There is a Sithspawn somewhere in the tunnels beneath the ruins. Retrieve whatever treasure it guards. I worry that it’s too much for you,” he mocked. “You may have some potential, but you are no Sith. Your weak heart does not deserve the blood it pumps. Blood that will stain the floor of the tunnels, no doubt. If the beast doesn’t kill you, the Umbaran Acolytes will. And if you return… you will find your troupe of clowns has been… reduced somewhat. Don’t return to Umbara until you’re done, Acolyte. You will leave at 10:00.”

Lana sighed. She still had an hour before the assigned hour, so she decided to inspect her pack. It was almost full. Her days of hunting and foraging in the wilds had given her enough provisions for a whole week. She had some poisons and stims, and a few medpacks. And there, at the very bottom of her bag, was a black case.

She opened it almost reluctantly. The hilt of a Lightsaber she’d spent the past few months constructing. It was nearly done now. The only thing she was missing was a Lightsaber crystal. The sword at her waist was well and good, but a Lightsaber made things much easier. Depending on what the base species was, the Sithspawn could be very difficult to kill. She had heard about the Sithspawn, had seen references to it in the notes Kozarn had given her, but she still didn’t know what it was.

That kind of detail was crucial.

Some were resistant to Force attacks. She needed every advantage she could get. If only she’d managed to find out where the Umbaran academy’s crystals were harvested.

She carefully replaced the hilt inside the box, and stowed it back in the hidden compartment of her bag. “I suppose I’ll just have to make do.” She pressed the pendant on her neck in her hands. “Mama… Papa… please pray for me.”

*

Lana Felt eyes on her as soon as she left the academy. Some were the wolves she’d befriended. Others were hostiles. Predators, rival acolytes, or worse.

She had a dilemma on her hands. Should she confront the Principal of Umbara Academy before, or after the Sithspawn? There were merits to both, of course. He would not attack her until she’d engaged the Sithspawn. That way, his chances of victory were guaranteed, and he might earn something else on the side. Her prize. As soon as the academy was hidden from view, the stygian wolves came out into plain view.

“Hello there, Tio!” she said brightly. “Did you sleep well?” The alpha wolf barked happily as she scratched behind his ears. He rubbed his head against her knee. Others approached her as well, and she greeted each in turn. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m here on business today.”

A quizzical look. The wolves were even smarter than she’d given them credit for. The method she used to make herself understood—infusing the Force into her voice—did not work on most other beasts. She had attempted in out of curiosity, the first time. But after testing it on a panther, a bear, a Rancor, and a Hssiss, she’d come to the conclusion that a base level of intelligence was necessary to truly comprehend the meaning.

Tio barked a question and turned around.

“Well… I need to find my way into the ruins…” but of course, the wolves did not understand. Even intelligence had its limits. Even among the sentients of the galaxy, few could extrapolate the existence of an ocean from a single drop of rain. “Follow me. You’ll see what I mean.”

And follow they did, trailing along in the shadows. It was around 18:00 that her objective cam into view… though it was still several hours’ march off. “That’s where I need to go,” Lana explained. “Into that city. And beneath it.”

The wolves seemed to understand. Several of them appeared before her and barked. They pointed her in the direction of a large outcropping of rock.

“Oh?”

She followed with anticipation. They led her to some bushes growing beside the rock, where she found an ancient tunnel, one which was big enough for a Lana-sized human to slip through.

“In here?” She entered without hesitation, removing a glowstick from her belt for some illumination. “Thank you, Tio.” The wolf barked. She thought she heard a tail wagging furiously. She chuckled happily.

*

“Where is she?” Anathemos roared. “I thought we had her in our sights! How could she vanish into thin air?”

“Perhaps she’s dead, my Lord—”

Anathemos slapped the acolyte who dared suggest such a thing. “MIND YOUR TONGUE, OR I WILL CUT IT OUT AND FORCE YOU TO EAT IT!”

“It’s fine, my Lord,” a different one assured him. “We know her objective, don’t we? We can head there directly. It doesn’t matter how good she is at concealment. It’s trapping 101. You don’t need to track a target, if you know where it’s headed. I don’t know why she even bothered wasting the energy. I thought she was smart.”

“Yes… yes…” Anathemos Crushed the acolyte’s heart for presuming to remind him how to track. The issue here wasn’t that he was worried Beniko would get away. He was worried that she’d managed to hide from him. That should be impossible for someone like her. He’d spent five decades honing his skills. He was displeased that she—or anyone—could outstrip him after a mere six. He knew also, that this meant she had other tricks up her sleeve. She was more dangerous than he’d imagined.

All the more reason to kill her, he thought. Now that I’ve earned her enmity, I won’t survive her becoming a Lord!

*

Lana followed the tunnel until it split. She checked her chrono, and called for a halt. “It’s dinner time.”

She didn’t want to risk lighting a cookfire in this place, but the wolves were perfectly content eating the dried jerky and plain salads she had with her. At this rate, my provisions last the full week. But it’s fine. I don’t Sense any dangers down here. Maybe I can get some proper sleep here. The wolves are here too, after all.

Several of the wolves huddled around her as she settled down to sleep, but Tio and three others stayed up to keep watch.

*

The Next Day. Around noon.

Lana was gasping for breath. The air down here was even staler than she was used to. The catacombs this deep were quite beautiful. The stonework was magnificent, with beautiful carvings and statues decorating the rooms. There were scones for torches, but they had not held a torch in decades.

“There? You’re sure?”

Tio barked softly in affirmative.

Lana cloaked herself, erasing her presence so that only the wolves could tell she was here. She crept along the wall and turned the corner.

There it was… the Sithspawn.

A Terentatek. A moderately-sized one, thankfully.

But something about it was… off… Terentateks were known for radiating a powerful Dark Side aura, but this one didn’t. She wondered what that meant. She also didn’t Sense the unstable rage that most Sithspawn brimmed with.

Perhaps… perhaps it was because it hadn’t noticed her. No. Maybe it was because of Umbara. Many species of this world relied on camouflage and guile, even the strong ones. This Sithspawn was probably smarter than others.

That gave her pause. If she had to pick between a powerful but stupid opponent, and a weak but intelligent one, she would pick the stupid one every time. As she was pondering her next move, she felt Tio brush past her leg.

That’s right… the wolves were with her! With them at her side, she felt much more secure.

Come to think of it, I need to figure out how I’m going to deal with that one too… what’s this? Tio was tugging at her sleeve. She followed him past the Sithspawn, which didn’t stir, up the wall beyond, where she found a ledge with a hidden door that led into the treasure room beyond.

And inside the room, her prize. A chest. That’s right. Fighting the Sithspawn wasn’t part of her test. This was all she needed.

She spent ten minutes taking detailed holo surveillance with her miniature probes. She hunted for any writings or etchings on the wall, and found a few lines she could not decipher. Let’s hope it isn’t a curse. The Dark Side does not stir in this chamber, so probably not.

She opened the chest and glanced through its contents. She was disappointed. At least at the top, most of it contained the sort of treasure Acolytes were allowed to keep. Coins, jewels, precious stones…

Precious stones? Wait…

With trembling fingers, she examined each stone in turn. Many were Umbaran sapphires, rubies and amethysts, the sort that could easily sell for fifty thousand credits a piece. But among the ordinary gemstones were a pair of Kaiburr crystals, and another deep red one she didn’t recognize. But it thrummed with a violent power that frightened her. Several of the wolves backed away uneasily.

“It’s alright,” she consoled them. “Look! I’ve heard that Lightsaber crystals can be purified. Here, let me do it. It’ll just take a little effort.”

She knelt down with the crystal pressed tightly in her fist and began to meditate. The crystal had centuries of malevolence contained in its tiny shell, and the second she opened herself up to it, it unleashed its fury upon her.

She grunted as every slight she’d ever endured plowed through her skull, trying to draw out many times the fury she had felt for each one, then combine them.

“Do not trifle with me!” Lana whispered. “I am a Sith Lord! I am not a slave to my passions! I use them! You will bow to me!”

The crystal seemed to roar in response.

*

Lord Anathemos and his group were trying to regain their bearings. They had been attacked by several rhinoceros bears—which had killed five acolytes; and a Hssiss—which had slain one of his more experienced Assassins.

“RANCOR!” an acolyte screamed, only to be squashed by something that Anathemos had taken for a misshapen tree trunk. He shot a bolt of Lightning into the beast’s maw before cutting its legs out from under it. As it was thrashing about, he stabbed its throat with a tree trunk.

“Is it too much trouble to stay quiet?” Anathemos asked in frustration. Not only were the beasts drawn to loud voices, the screaming would be an excellent way for Beniko to track them, if she wasn’t already. “Where is that damned catacombs entrance?”

“There!” Dirk cried.

Anathemos harrumphed. “It’s about time! Come on now. Who knows the way?”

“I do,” said an acolyte timidly. She took point, her comrades scouting ahead in front of her. Anathemos was not in a good mood. He hadn’t stepped out into these wilds in years. His mandate was to train and maintain the best Assassins of the Order, not step out to punish impudent little acolytes. He worried that his inexperience was showing. He couldn’t Sense these predators, and had blindly led them into danger again and again. They might be silent about it for now, but tongues would wag once their minds had time to think. He couldn’t even kill everyone else here, as that would reflect on him later. Jogis, Zetho, Haakon, Simo, Terrence, Kallis, Tark, Cillian, and Andrew were his elite assassins. He’d already lost Brejon. If he lost anyone else, questions about their efficiency might be raised, even if he managed to hide the purpose of their exercise.

And he had no one to replace Dirk. Training a new adjutant would take time, which he would have to reallocate from the time he spent on political maneuverings. That was unacceptable. He was already sixty-three years old, and still just a principal of an academy! And not even one like Korriban, but a training ground for catspaws! If he didn’t achieve anything in the next five years, he would die a nameless master of assassins.

It’s not like I want to become a Dark Councilor! He thought furiously. I just want to become a retainer to one! Darth Marr! Jadus! Vowrawn! Angral! Anyone! Perhaps make Darth!

“Dark Lord!” the acolyte in the lead called. Softly, thank Hord. There were a trio of Hssiss dozing near the next intersection. But just as he was contemplating what to do, he Felt a snap in the Force. Something was screaming, as if locked in mortal combat.

“It’s the Sithspawn!” he said loudly. “Quickly! Quickly!” Zetho and Haakon sprang into action, attempting to flank the Hssiss, but the lizards were alert now, thanks to the din. One snapped at Zetho, the other took a swipe at Haakon. Zetho stumbled backwards and landed on his buttocks, while Haakon, in his haste to avoid the claws, was mauled by the third. Zetho’s screams filled the air as a Hssiss started to devour him feet first. Simo charged and stabbed it in the back of the head, while Kallis and Terrence kept the other two busy.

Anathemos threw a heavy slab of granite at the remaining two, crushing one, but the other used the distraction to slap Terrence with its spiked tail. Kallis attempted to cut it off, but it recoiled like an asp. Jogis slew it before it could attack the overextended Kallis.

“That’s three more down,” Dirk said hesitantly.

“I can count! Now hurry! This will be a wasted effort if we let that tart escape!”

Everyone took off at a full gallop, making for the chamber the Sithspawn was in.

They made it… only to find that it wasn’t the source of the din. It seemed just as intent on finding out the cause as they were. Unfortunately, the beast took one look at Anathemos’ party and decided that they were responsible.

It roared and charged. Anathemos screamed in terror. He wasn’t ready to take the brunt of a Sithspawn’s charge! The Acolytes tried to put up a defense, but the Sithspawn charged on.

“Lord Anathemos!” Dirk cried, and pushed him out of the way. It trampled him before crushing another acolyte. It slammed into the wall beyond, and the whole chamber shook.

It turned to get the intruders in its sights again and roared before making a second charge.

*

Lana was in a world where everything was out to get her. Tuk’ata and K’lor’slugs jumped out of the shifting dunes to attack, hounding her every step.

She refused to budge. These things weren’t real. The Force was her servant, and her shield. It formed blades of wind that attacked any beast that got too close.

So, the gem tried something else. Old rivals appeared from the mist.

Garr Pardex, who had tried to rape her on her first day on Korriban, whom she had crushed like a grape. Jake Harding, who had tried to pin the murder of another acolyte on her. Tina Barton and her wallflower sycophants, who had attempted to ambush her in the Tomb of Ajunta Pall. Jain Skapol, who took cruel delight in hurling every insult imaginable at her. Numerous other acolytes, who mocked her close bond with her group.

And Harkun… gods, Harkun! At the best of times, that man tried her patience. But now, with the crystal trying to amplify her rage, she nearly broke. She wanted to drown him in a pit filled with his own bile. She wanted to drop half a mountain of his own bullsh*t on his head. She wanted to rip off his impotent manhood and shove it down his throat.

But she resisted. Her anger, her hatred, her revenge… they were hers to dole out. On her time, at her discretion. She refused to surrender her freedom to her passions. “I… am… my own woman!” she declared. She created for herself a bubble of calm that kept her tormentors at bay, and sat down.

She reached for her inner peace. It was difficult to find. She sought the joy of her group’s company, but it failed her. So, she went deeper; she sought out her parents. Mother’s songs filled her heart. Father’s scrumptious cooking. Although the memories were distant, they helped. She felt the pressure waver and fade.

Then she felt something she never had before; a link between her soul and another, somewhere out there in the wide galaxy. She felt a presence unlike anything she’d ever encountered before.

It was full of love and compassion. It yearned to serve and protect. But above all, it was utterly devoted to her. That shocked her. Who out there loved her to this extent? Papa? Mama? Certainly not Kagan and the others. But underneath the love, she felt something else. An implacable undercurrent of something unimaginably deadly and wrathful. Was this what some called a guardian angel? No. Now was not the time for this. She didn’t know who it was, but its presence gave her an anchor to hold. Something which told her what up was, and what down, in this swirling mess of emotions. It faded once she had her stepping stone, but it was enough.

Now that she’d found her balance, she shook off the crystal’s pathetic attempts like it was a fly. Her calm expanded, and invaded the crystal. The miasma it was emanating became a terrified squeak, like a mouse’s, and vanished.

“There!” she said with satisfaction. She held up the crystal. It had turned pure white, and had the same love and compassion as the presence she’d Felt moments ago. “What do you think?”

Several of the wolves approached and sniffed the air around them. They shook themselves, and yipped happily.

Tio barked, and Lana turned her attention to the door. “What’s this, then? Oh, isn’t that precious!” The Sithspawn was attacking Anathemos and several of his lackies. Some were acolytes, but others were fully trained assassins. Lana almost laughed at the extreme he’d gone to just for her. It was almost flattering! “Now is as good a time as any, I suppose.” She opened her pack and reached for the box within.

*

Anathemos threw everything he had at the monster, but it did nothing! Rock after rock just crumbled against its armored hide. Lightning dissolved against its scales. His attempts to Cage the beast’s mind also ended in failure. His acolytes and assassins attempted to slay it, but they were only armed with force pikes and swords.

“Looks like someone’s having trouble,” a soft voice called mockingly. “What’s the matter, boys and girls? A little Terentatek causing you problems? I thought you wanted to prove you were better than us. Come on now, hop to it!”

There she was! A level just above them, accessible only through a small hole.

“You stupid bitch!” Anathemos screamed. “What are you waiting for? Help us!”

“Why? Aren’t you here to kill me?”

“What? No! As if I’d come out in such force just for you—”

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“Beniko… help us!”

“I don’t know…”

“Please!” an acolyte shouted. “We can’t die like this! After all we’ve suffered, we can’t die like this!”

“Forgotten why you’re here? The second I kill that thing, he kills me. You kill me.”

The Sithspawn lunged for another of his Assassins and squashed him. It turned and clapped, leaving a very flattened Andrew behind. Anathemos screamed again.

Beniko giggled. “I’m recording this, by the way!”

“Please!” Anathemos begged. “PLEASE!”

The Sithspawn stomped an acolyte into paste, and rammed another into the wall. It grabbed one and ate it whole.

Beniko attacked at last. Anathemos had to grudgingly respect her choice of timing; the Sithspawn had dropped its guard and reared onto its hind legs to bellow. It left its throat exposed. Beniko slithered down from her post like a shadow and slid underneath the legs. Once she was in position, she got onto her feet and thrust upwards with such power that she became a blur. The unmistakable snap-hiss of a Lightsaber activating briefly rang out across the room, and the beast’s bellowing was cut short. It stumbled for a moment, then clutched at the burning furrow on its neck. It almost fell on Cillian as it died. The wounded Assassin had to roll to escape.

Beniko walked up to Anathemos, whose face purpled with shame and rage. “I believe you’re trying to say something,” she smiled. “‘Thank you, Lady Beniko! Me and my comrades owe you our lives!’”

“KILL HER!” Anathemos roared, but his surviving assassins were attacked by what looked like massive wolf-like shadows. Cillian shrieked before he got bitten in the throat. Tark tripped and fell in his haste to escape the monsters, only to be killed as well. Jogis started stabbing at the shadows wildly, but failed to hit a single one. Several surviving acolytes ran at Beniko as if they’d forgotten every second of training they’d ever received. She seemed not to even realize as she killed them.

Beniko sighed and raised her blade. It was a hot orange, just like the fire in her voice. “Stand up, Anathemos. Try to fight for your prize, for once.”

*

Anathemos stood. He drew his Lightsaber and went straight for her heart. Lana tutted, slapping it aside contemptuously. Her counterattack was cautious, testing his defenses, trying to spring any traps—he was an expert in misdirection, after all. When she didn’t find any, she attacked with steady force. The wonders of the versatile Niman Form… you could use it in any situation without sacrificing anything. She had used it while dueling with her sword, but the Lightsaber was a different ballgame entirely. It sang. Using it was sublime pleasure; it gave her this feeling of artistry. She felt good!

She channeled her thrill into her Form, unleashing a barrage of seven rather playful strikes. The first three poked small holes into Anathemos’ robes, the fourth and fifth left minor burns on his legs. The sixth sliced an area of his robes right below the crotch. The seventh destroyed the Lightsaber tumbling out of his numb fingers.

The old man had his hands around his crotch as he fell to the ground whimpering.

*

The Master of the Umbaran Assassins looked into those eyes and only saw death. “No!” he yelped. “Please! Mercy!”

“Mercy?” Lana was amused. “We are Sith! We don’t do mercy! And you just tried to kill me! After I saved you!”

“You can’t kill me,” Anathemos trembled. “I’m… I’m… I’m…”

“You’re an old, washed-up man, trying to reach for heights that he doesn’t deserve.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“And how many have you killed, for your own, pathetic ego?”

“You can’t seriously blame that on me!” Anathemos sputtered. “Trials are supposed to be harsh, and Korriban more than others!”

“I didn’t have to do much at all to get you to come after me. And with this kind of force, too. Look where that got you… you’re such a worm! You deserve to die out here.”

“No! Please! I’ll give you anything!”

“Well… I’m not averse to letting you go. But not for free. In addition, I want insurance.”

“Wh… wha… what do you want from me…?”

Beniko placed him in a Stasis, then held his head with an iron hand. “This entire past month,” she said in a voice too powerful for him to disobey. “You will lose all recollection of it. You won’t remember anything whatsoever. Not even how you got here.”

“I… won’t… remember…”

“Good. Now Sleep.”

*

Lana allowed the Principal of Umbara Academy fall to the ground, where he started to snore like a child. She made a note of his key code; she would have to look through his quarters to ensure he hadn’t left any failsafes behind. Or any evidence that might lead Sith to the realization that she was responsible, not just for humiliating the vaunted Master of Umbaran Assassins, but also the deaths of a considerable number of his elites.

If only she could’ve killed him outright. But the death of someone with his level of authority would not go without a thorough investigation. Bad enough that he’d lost so many, chasing after her.

She would also have to add a plausible reason why he’d be out here. Perhaps she could tie it to the rumored Sith tomb said to be located within these catacombs. Yes, that might work.

She turned to take stock of the wolves. “Tio… is everyone alright?”

The wolf barked in confirmation. The wolves gathered around her.

“Thank goodness. Now come. Let’s get out of here. No, wait…” Lana checked the contents of the chest again. Around one hundred precious stones, which she estimated to be worth around five million credits, if she sold them a few at a time. Perhaps she could discreetly have some taken over to her parents, once she got the chance.

There were a few bags of coins that could also be sold to collectors for a tidy sum.

She was rich, if such a thing mattered to her. It didn’t, past a certain point, but at least she’d be able to invest in a comfortable retirement for herself.

But what did interest her was a parcel full of maps and books. Poetry, astronomy, histories, philosophy… these she would keep for herself, like the Lightsaber crystals.

She felt a little dissatisfied. The goal of her trial was to retrieve the chest, so she had technically passed already. No one would deny an acolyte their passing grade just because their find didn’t have any objects of power. But they sure would make life miserable for them.

Lana looked at the Sithspawn. “It looks like I needed it dead, after all.” She cut it apart with her Lightsaber, and reached for a thick black gemstone embedded above its heart. “Filthy thing.” But at least it was powerful. It qualified as an artifact of interest. Even Harkun would be unable to do anything more than grumble that she probably stole it from somewhere.

The wolves, bless them, stayed away from the Sithspawn carcass. “Come on, my babies. I’ll whip you up a real meal.” They began dancing around her in excitement. “It’s almost time for me to leave. I’ll miss you all.”

*

Umbara Academy,
Exploration Records and Customs

Lana waited patiently for her turn. There were only four acolytes turning in their spoils today, but only one clerk on duty. As mandated by Empire-wide rules, acolytes turned up at Customs immediately after returning, in order to reduce the risk of contraband. She was allowed to keep her spoils, once they were declared.

This also allowed the Empire to know what was found where, in case something was later discovered to hold cultural significance.

“Next,” the clerk called. Lana stepped forward. “My, my… all that?” she asked dubiously as Lana placed the chest on her desk.

“Yes. I think I’ll hand over some of these to the Reclamation Service for the standard finder’s fee.”

“What’s this I hear?” A man asked from the records room. There was shuffling of furniture, and a small man with kind eyes and mousy brown hair emerged. “Something for the Reclamation Service? Mind if I sit in, my Lord?”

“Of course not, Sir. I have a great deal of respect for our scholars. My name is Lana.”

“Wonderful, wonderful!” The man’s delighted beam of genuine pleasure brought a similar smile to her lips. “I am Corporal Talos Drellik. Absolutely charmed to make your acquaintance!” He shook her hand enthusiastically as he sat down.

“I got these from this chamber,” Lana pointed it out on the map.

“Oh, indeed? You recovered the items of treasure chamber Thranta-17? This is exciting!”

“I also made certain to record the chamber before I touched anything. And the path I took to reach there. Here’s my map and recorder data.”

“Thank you, my Lord! This is a wonderful contribution.” He skimmed through anything. “Yes… this is fine work. You’ve taken real care to record everything.” He looked at the chest. “And to preserve the artefacts. You may have a future in research and archaeology. May I put in a note, praising your diligence? Should you ever decide to work for the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, it might come in handy.”

“Yes! Thank you.”

“Now, let’s get to it,” the clerk cut in. “Show me all of your finds, so I may record it. You can discuss what you’re handing over to Reclamation in the cafeteria.”

“One other thing. I’d like to put in a request for a sigil. Whom do I go to?”

“Normally, people wait until they’re Apprentices,” the clerk raised a thin eyebrow. “Yes, I can do so right here, for an additional fee. It only takes a few minutes. And we can provide you with an artist to make it a sigil worthy of a Sith Lord. What do you have in mind?”

Lana grinned. “A Stygian Wolf.”

*

Chapter 10: Primordial

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

2 ATC,
Agraia VII/I

Zenon Bassileion labored under the weight of his duties. And the heavy bag he carried in his hands. His teeth were gritted so tightly that the muscles of his jaw and neck spasmed. He reached the top of the stair, cursing Lord Tijor for setting up a dig on this, of all planets.

Several millennia ago, Agraia was the seventh and second last world in this star system, back before it turned into a red giant. Now, doom was coming for this world too, for it was not long before a supernova occurred. Mere weeks, according to some estimates. There was an ancient Sith Temple deep beneath these ruins, Zenon understood that much. But the Sith had moved far too late to secure it, only beginning their efforts two years prior.

And now they were moving vast numbers of slaves in order to uncover it before the bomb went off. Almost literally. That meant extremely long work hours with small meal and fresher breaks. Zenon Bassileion and the other food mules had two jobs; carry the food prepared in the kitchens up the mountain, then return with the empty vessels of the previous trip. And water, of course. They did this twice a day; once around noon, and once at dusk. Each round trip took approximately two and a half hours. It was backbreaking work, and it was taking its toll on the mules.

He reached the cave entrance and dropped his burdens with relief. “We made it,” he gasped. He wasn’t the first to reach the summit. Or the twentieth. But he was here, and that meant enough food for another hundred of his fellow slaves. Every mule that died meant that many slaves went hungry. Hungry slaves might collapse as they worked. The taskmasters didn’t care. They wanted to be gone from this world as badly as the slaves did. Dead slaves were quickly replenished.

“Yes, well done,” Taskmaster O’Hart said brusquely. “You’re a young one, bright boy. You should be able to make this trip faster than the crone over there. Youngsters these days… they just don’t know the meaning of hard work. Eh, Jareyed?”

“Aye,” Guard Captain Jareyed said. “But this one is small. You can’t expect a midget to do this job as well as a regular-sized person.

“Reassign him,” Guard Sepha suggested. “Find him something more his speed. Maybe he’d work better in cleaning—”

“No,” Zenon whispered. “Anything but that!” There were seven thousand slaves working in there, and that many people meant that much waste. Keeping the place clean was a nightmare. “I’ll work harder, I promise!”

“Sorry, little midget, but my friends here have got a point. You’re not pulling your weight.”

“It’s true that I’m not first in line, but I’m not last, either!”

“I know it’s disgusting work, but someone needs to do it,” Sepha grinned cruelly.

Zenon was saved by Taskmaster Bedek, of all people. “Bad news, O’Hart. We’ve lost 273 slaves just now. There was a cave-in.”

“Blast it,” O’Hart cursed. “Alright, you lot. New plan. You are all now assigned immediately to the digging crews. Your replacements will be responsible for the next run.”

“Give us a break!” Gera breathed. “We just climbed this mountain! We can’t work now!”

“Luckily for you, it’s time for a break anyway,” Bedek snarled. “Take a lunchbox, each of you. Head right in after. Don’t worry, there are enough picks and shovels for all of you. I want you the first inside.”

Slaves began pouring out of the cave entrance, eager to make the most of their break. Zenon quickly picked a lunch for himself and began pushing the food into his mouth. Fighting the tears was a struggle.

*

A Week Later

Excavation wasn’t just worse than mule duty, Zenon decided, it was a gazillion times worse. But perhaps still not so bad as cleaning. Most slaves tried to avoid answering nature’s calls, but it was difficult. They weren’t allowed outside the cave. They worked in three shifts of four rotating teams. Each shift lasted a third of the day, and each team worked ten minutes before taking a rest. They didn’t leave the spot to rest, awaiting their next turn a half hour later.

They slept fifty meters behind the excavation zone, and used side chambers for their business. Each sleeping shift was tasked with bringing one meal in from the outside. It was the only time they saw daylight. Breathed the fresh air. But each time they went out was another time they saw the red sun. Another day lost in the countdown to oblivion.

Zenon whimpered. There was no time. They were still a hundred meters from where the Temple was supposed to be. A hundred meters until the entrance, and who knows how much more digging after that?

He was doomed. He would die on this world, a victim of a supernova.

It’s dying with style… but I don’t want to die. I don’t… I don’t… I don’t want to! He fought another round of sobs as he thought about his family. His father, his sisters and brothers, his wife Anneth, and their sole surviving child. Tian.

When my children were born, I swore I’d get a better life for them. The same empty promise that every slave makes. But Tian and Dea are gone. Sef… at least for you, I want to deliver on my words. How is it that someone can be this weak… this wretched… I need help. Please. Just a little leg up! I will not waste any opportunity! I will continue to rise, until I’m at the very top of the pyramid! Just give me a chance!

His moping was interrupted by a fresh inrush of slaves. Automatically, Zenon looked up, praying, as ever, that no one else from his family had been brought to this damned world.

His heart sank when he saw everyone.

“Papa… Achaikos… Dienekes… Kassandra… Laryssa…”

Their eyes found his as well, for humanoids with their skin color were rare in this line of work. Everyone seemed to lose the strength in their knees. “Zenon!” Father was the first to start crawling to him. Laryssa followed, then Dienekes. They all embraced him tightly. “We thought you were dead!”

“And now… now we all are!” Zenon couldn’t help but scream. “What have we done to the gods, that we were consigned to such horrible misery!?”

“Do not blame gods,” Father admonished. “It is mortals who are to blame. The accursed Brothers…”

Zenon had never known that time. Nor had his father, Themistokles. He was born an Imperial slave, just like himself. His father had been a village elder on a world called Jedha. Zenon wondered what kind of thriving paradise that world had been. He sometimes pictured it as a place full of fountains and marble buildings. Orchards and groves as far as the eyes could see. A perfect town hall in the middle, with a tall bell tower with a perfect silver bell that could be heard from kilometers away. But they had been taken away from their haven by a band of slavers known as the Brothers. From there, they had been marked for the most soul crushing brand of slavery.

Zenon had once vowed to hunt down and destroy the organization as vengeance, back when he was thirteen and stupid. Now, all he wanted was his old life on Alluyen. Even that would be better for his son than their previous assignment on Begeren.

“Where is Anneth? And where is Sef? Is he alive?” Is he here, too?

“He was alive when we last saw him,” father assured her. “Along with Pol, Najil, Vilos, Sia, and Little Xin. They were still in the nursery.”

“Thank the gods.” The nursery was a collective of new mothers, young children and old slaves who were unable to do any other work. They raised slave children as best as they could. Slave masters typically saw them reasonably well-cared for, as most of the children could be sold.

“We don’t know where Anneth is, however. She was taken away before us.”

Everyone was gloomily silent for a bit.

“Come. We are together again, even if it is for a short time. Let us offer prayer to the great gods before our shift starts.”

“Of course.” Zenon took a loose rock and quickly scratched a few symbols on the ground. The Cloud, denoting Arrehnos, the sky; the mountain, denoting the land, Larya; the zigzag lines representing the oceans and rivers, Kharn; and the intersecting circles representing the primordial twin deities: Hekate, Goddess of Chaos, emptiness, and magic; and Daius, the god of order, reality, and construction. Zenon offered the gods what he thought was one final family prayer before a Taskmaster closed in.

“What do we have here?” she grinned. “Slaves having a party? Ohhh! Are you family?” She giggled. “So sorry, lads and ladies! I do hope you at least have someone on the outside to carry on the family trade!” She left cackling.

Made reckless by a mix of rage and exhaustion, Zenon blurted. “Thank you! You too! You’re dying here too, you know! Just like us!”

That shut the Taskmaster up. That shut them all up. None of them even cared enough to discipline him for it. Despair rose to the surface, and some began to shake, while others burst into sobs. Zenon allowed himself a gallows grin.

*

A few days later

Zenon looked up at the sun. He wondered, as he always did, if he would have the rare pleasure of watching it go supernova. It would be a better way to go, than dying in the mines. He immediately ran for a lunchbox and began to eat. The food was a little better than usual today. Perhaps someone had mixed the Taskmasters’ rations with their own. He normally tried to ignore the grouchy, sad*stic whip snappers, but one set of words caught her attention.

“… is why Darth Marr is coming to see the excavation himself.”

“Don’t you understand what you’re sayin, mate? This star could blow today!”

“I know, I know. But it looks like the Dark Council is more interested in this Temple than we thought.”

“Look, here it comes already.” A guard pointed at the sky. “Marr’s shuttle.”

Zenon had forgotten his food. Most of the slaves had, too. Everyone seemed to have heard the conversation. Everyone stared at the sky, at the approaching shuttle. Without being ordered to, everyone put down their lunchboxes and pressed their heads to the ground. Reverence for one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy; someone who seemed beyond even the heights of the gods Zenon worshipped.

*

“What are you expecting down there, Master?” Lord Lachris asked the great Dark Lord. Darth Marr looked at his Apprentice, unsure if he had the time to tell her what she wanted to know.

“I will tell you, if we survive this day.”

“I’m feeling frightened, Master. A supernova is something even a Sith cannot survive.”

“Then you understand the magnitude of what we are hoping to find down there, do you? To be honest, I do not know any details about this Temple. I only know that the Emperor himself ordered its excavation. If we do not reach it before the star explodes, all of our heads may roll. And our households and chief apprentices. Do you see? It doesn’t matter if we survive the exploding star, if we haven’t found the Emperor’s prize.”

“I take your meaning, my Lord.”

“As a last-ditch effort, we are joining the excavation ourselves. The Force can move mountains for us. I wanted to ask others to come with us, but everyone is busy at the moment. To think the day could come when a Sith Lord—one of the Sith Lords—would be forced to use the Force for such a banal matter as digging a hole. But such is the Emperor’s authority. Even the Force bends to his will.”

They arrived on the planet, landing directly outside the cave entrance.

“We have quite a welcoming party,” Lachris commented.

“It matters not. Come with me.”

Marr stepped out of the shuttle first. His apprentice took one whiff of the air and made a sound that he took as disgust. “You should’ve worn your helmet. Do so now. A Darth must not be seen losing their lunch.”

“Right away, my Lord.”

Marr had been to slave operations such as this one before. With extremely low levels of hygiene stemming from poor waste disposal and no sewage system to speak of, one could normally smell them from kilometers away. It was a mark of Lachris’ indolent upbringing, that she had never experienced this before. He walked past the only slave between the shuttle and the officers—a trembling Twi'lek male with purple skin—and growled at the man in the lead before he could finish his drawn-out greeting. “Drop the niceties; time is short. Report. In brief.”

“We are still over seventy meters from the projected entrance,” the overseer whimpered. “We are out of time.”

Marr spun around and pointed at the being behind him. “You. Slave. Name.”

“Zenon Bassileion, Great One.”

“Zenon. Lead me to the excavation site at speed.”

The man knew how to follow orders. He took him at his word and ran for all his life was worth. Marr followed closely behind, his apprentice behind him.

The caves were dark despite a few weak lights hanging on the walls. Once they reached the back lines, Zenon shouted at the top of his lungs. “MAKE WAY FOR DARTH MARR!”

There was a moment of stunned silence before everyone flattened themselves against the walls, leaving enough space for a bus to pass through. A minute later, they were at the dig site. Zenon finally stopped running, leaning against the wall. A nearby slave gave him a waterskin which he reluctantly offered Marr first, then Lachris. Both shook their heads. The slave took a deep sip before addressing the Sith.

“I didn’t know we were excavating a prize for the Emperor himself,” he panted softly.

“How do you know?” Lachris sounded a bit surprised.

“What else would get a Dark Councilor on this, of all worlds? On this, of all duties?”

“What, indeed,” Marr nodded. “Seventy meters is a long way, but not insurmountable. Apprentice, watch what I’m doing, then join in.”

He placed his hands on the rock face and began emitting vibrations from his palms. It was faint at first; then the wall started to tremble and break. The solid wall turned to rocks, then powder.

Powder that began to fall around him. Lachris joined in, adding her efforts to the project. Within just a few hours, they had moved forward almost sixty meters.

“Now power it down,” Marr ordered. “We cannot risk damaging the temple, unless there is no other choice. Weaken the walls, weaken them all the way to the entrance. Be prepared to stop on my command.

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

Marr pushed forward his perception, looking for that instant in time, where the natural rock gave way to a manmade wall. “Now! Stop!”

The pair pulled away from the rock, and Marr called to the slaves. “Continue digging the traditional way. Your job should be easier now.”

His command was met by a single giggle. He turned around to find the slave, Zenon, on his knees. His large eyes were staring at the fruits of their labor, but his finger pointed the other way. Marr took a look and growled. There had been a cave-in slightly behind the front line, and all the slaves had fled rather than risk being buried alive.

Marr felt rage bubble in his belly for a second, but he squashed it. He couldn’t blame the slaves. Anyone would run in this situation. Almost anyone. “Why didn’t you run as well?” He asked Zenon curiously.

“I suppose I fell in love with that demonstration. Was that the Force at work?”

“Yes, it is. Our tool for domination can be used for such purposes too.”

“But doing so stings, doesn’t it? It must be nice, being the Emperor.”

“Are you always this abrasive?” Lachris asked Zenon, who blinked and crumbled.

“No. Something about this display…” fear returned to him, and he dropped to his hands and knees. “Forgive me, Dark Lords. I got caught up in your display of power!”

“Since you’re here, I can put you to use,” Marr said thoughtfully. “I will use the Force to push the rocks back a little. Create a tunnel for you. You are leaner than myself or Lachris, so you should be able to squeeze through a tight corridor. Make your way to the door, and see if you can’t open it for us. Apprentice, give him your Lightsaber. It might come in handy. And see if you can’t open a way back for us.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.” Lachris was loath to give up her Lightsaber, but she understood what was at stake. Her weapon was small enough to fit in the slave’s hand, and anyway, it was Marr’s right to make such demands of his subordinates. Just as it was the Emperor’s right to make them of his.

Zenon accepted the weapon and surprised Marr with a little wisdom. He carefully activated it, making sure the emitter was facing away from his body. He slowly swung it around, testing its balance and weight. He extinguished it at one, then put his helmet on his head and activated the headlight. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Your courage and service will be rewarded. If we survive.”

Marr exerted his strength, and rocks began to press themselves against each other, forming a hole big enough for the small slave to crawl through. The man wasted no time. He scrambled into the opening like a rat escaping a serpent, and kept on going. Marr tracked his progress by watching the reflected illumination from his headlight go further and further away. His life was in his hands… but he had a good feeling about him.

*

Zenon prayed to the great gods as he crawled forward, relieved that neither Sith was angry at him for his breach in etiquette. He reached the wall in a few minutes, then activated the Lightsaber. He stabbed the old structure and cut a gaping wound into its hide, one big enough for him to slink through without touching the molten edges. The heavy blade trembled in his hands, and he had to cool the blade and rest several times before resuming. When he was done at last, he peeked through the hole. It wasn’t a long drop to the floor, thankfully, but he’d still have trouble climbing out. He turned his head, looking for anything at all. The light provided by his helmet was weak, but it allowed him to get a sense of the room. It was about as large as the cavern outside, and had no doors, save for one which he was certain was the former entrance. There seemed to be several statues arrayed around a pyramid in the center of the room, a structure about the same height as herself.

The construction here was solid; nothing looked it was in danger of imminent collapse. On his left, he found a tapestry hooked to a fixture that looked strong enough to support his meager weight. Satisfied, he jumped in. The moment he landed, a pair of what he’d taken to be statues stood up and walked at him.

Zenon yelped and fell on his ass, covering his head with his hands. “Stay back!” He screamed. “I—I’ll use this!” He held up the Lightsaber, but his trembling thumb could not hit the ‘on’ switch.

A ball hovered between the giants. It looked like a floating eyeball. It looked him up and down for a few moments before rasping something in a tongue he didn’t understand. The sentries went back to their posts without a word.

Unsure what to do next, Zenon cautiously explored the Temple, looking for anything valuable. Almost everything looked like it was unmovable stone, but eventually, he found something else: a switch. Praying it wasn’t a self-destruct, he pressed it. A crystal just above the pyramid lit up, bathing the room in a macabre red light.

Zenon switched off his flashlight, and took a better look at the surroundings. There was, indeed, nothing here. Perhaps everything worth taking had already been pillaged, long ago.

What of the sentries though? If this place had really been hit by raiders, they would be defunct. Perhaps there was little here to start with.

With nothing else left to search, Zenon looked at the pyramid in the center. It was glowing sinisterly in the red light, something slithering in the core of the crystal at its apex.

He walked up to it and examined it. After some time, he decided to treat it as a container. He looked around for a handle or knob, but found none. He knocked it a few times, then found a side which echoed differently from the other three sides. His fingers traced the runes on the surface, looking for a way to pull it off, but failed, again. In frustration, he tapped a finger against the glowing red gem.

He had been unwilling to, not trusting the way its depths seemed to be trying to lure him in.

The moment his skin touched it, he felt himself rooted to the spot. He felt like he was being electrocuted. Something had taken hold of him in a tight grip. An invisible eye peered into his skull, and he had the dizzying sensation of all his memories being recalled and scrutinized. Through the haze of memories, he saw something; a being of unfathomable power staring at him through the unending void.

The gods! He thought. They were real? He lost all track of thought and time, until finally, the entity released him. The capstone fell off, and the door retracted, showing her the contents within.

He didn’t find much; an ancient statuette the size of his index finger, a few black crystals carefully encased in glass boxes, a dense tome, preserved in a plastic film, and a medallion.

This was it? This was what everyone was risking their lives for?

He’s mad, Zenon decided. The Emperor is mad.

Thinking on it further, he wondered if there was another angle to this errand. The Dark Councilors’ lives were on the line here. It all hinged on this one, stupid assignment. Perhaps this was meant to be an excuse to wipe out the Council. Proof of their incompetence. Before he could leave, Zenon found another small something he’d overlooked; a dagger. The dagger fit snugly in his hand, and had a blade long as his thumb. There seemed to be something inscribed on it. He cut his finger on the blade by accident, and watched in fascination as the blood was devoured by the blade. Runes lit up on its surface.

He felt something take over him, a foreign entity similar to the one that had held him hostage before. Driven by its unbreakable influence, he stabbed the capstone. The blade broke, but runes all over the room came alive, glowing a bright purple light. Thousands upon thousands of scratched lines that looked like gibberish to him, but not to the entity holding him in its thrall.

You cannot understand any of this yet, can you? A soft voice asked in his head. No matter. Look around. Take it all in. I will make it so you remember, when the time comes. This knowledge is my most treasured possession.

“Who are you?” he begged to know. “Please! Tell me!”

Alas, I do not have the time to tell you anything more than my name: Alloysius Kallig. Guard your tongue. Tell no one of this runic formula. Do not even mention having seen it. They will kill you for your knowledge. Hold onto it, until you’re so powerful that no one would dare dream of hurting you.

With that, the entity vanished from his head, leaving him to pick himself—and his loot—up and finding the way out.

*

“How goes the unearthing?” Marr asked Lachris. He was starting to feel the strain of using the Force continually like this. And for so many tasks too; keeping the tunnel open, and ensuring that there were no secondary cave-ins in the entire cave system.

“Almost done, Dark Lord. I can Sense the air on the other side.”

“Good. Our slave has been gone for close to an hour now. I hope he returns with good news.”

“Such a pity that we had to rely on one such as him.”

“We use what we need to,” Marr sighed heavily. His voice was growing weaker. “Sometimes, it is in the dirt that we find a treasure that another man deemed trash. May it be so, this time.”

“I hear something,” Lachris said. Marr listened, and heard the frenzied snik-snik-snik of metal hitting stone.

“Our rescue party. Good. We won’t have to dig our entire way out. Wait… I can Sense our Twi’lek. He’s on his way out.”

Minutes passed. The wall behind them burst first, and slaves poured into the breach, looking around for the Sith.

“Dark Lords!” an overseer cried, looking relieved.

Marr had no time to answer. Zenon crawled out of the tunnel, dragging a makeshift sack full of his findings.

“That’s everything in there,” he said tersely. “Not counting a few very large statues.”

“That will do,” Marr growled. “Take it, and start moving. Everyone out. Now!”

*

Zenon fell out of his hole. Darth Marr’s apprentice was on him in a flash, taking back her Lightsaber, as well as Zenon’s burden.

Her helmet covered her face, but Zenon knew her anger from her body language.

“Hurry, hurry!” Marr called. “I’m the only thing keeping this tunnel from collapsing! And there’s still the matter of the dying star!”

No one needed any further prompting. They began running for it, as fast as their feet could carry them. But as they neared the entrance, Darth Marr reached his limit. He fell with a soft grunt that was much louder than it should’ve been.

The entire tunnel began to collapse. “RUN FOR IT!” Zenon screamed. Several of the larger slaves picked Marr up and began to run for the exit, Marr’s Apprentice on their heels. Rocks fell on their heads, and in their paths. Several slaves were crushed outright. Others were first halted in their tracks by a rock that fell in front of them before getting trapped under more debris.

Pausing at the entrance, Zenon looked around frantically. Papa was behind me! Where is he? Where—

There. Papa and Laryssa had been knocked off their feet by the tremor from a large rock. What remained of the ceiling was falling down on their heads.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Zenon screamed. Acting again on instinct, his own this time, he raised a hand and fired a blast of powerful energy. It manifested as a thick bar of condensed air. It struck the falling debris dead center and launched it backwards, turning the rocks into fine powder.

“Interesting. Apprentice, extricate the slaves.”

All the surviving slaves, including Zenon’s father and sister, were pulled out of their spot by an unseen hand. A moment later, they were dropped in a pile outside the cave mouth.

“I was not expecting that,” the Dark Councilor’s faceplate was fixed on Zenon. “Come with me. We will talk once we’re safely away.” He turned to a frantic Taskmaster. “You: begin the evacuation at once.”

“There’s no time!” the man screamed. “We just received word! The end has started! The star will die in twenty minutes! The wave will only take three minutes to reach us! We are doomed!”

“Snap out of it, man!” Marr ordered, sounding frightfully calm. “That being the case, there is no time to waste. If you want to live, you will begin evacuation at once. This slave and his family travel with me.” He indicated with his chin, and Zenon ran forward to join him. He felt Papa and Ryssa fall in step behind him, and waved at the others to join them.

They boarded the shuttle, which took off at once. Darth Marr stumbled onto a chair and slumped into it. His apprentice collapsed beside him. Servants hastened to bring them refreshments.

“Sabastien, see to it these slaves are cleaned and made presentable. Bring that one before me afterwards.”

“As you order, Dark Lord.”

*

Zenon was brought before Marr not long after. He was aboard his flagship now; they all were.

The Great Sith was resting in his chambers. The Apprentice was nearby, this time without her helmet. Zenon thought she looked the same age as himself. She was very pretty too, with dark hair tied in a messy bun. She looked a little hostile still, but not as much as before.

“So… welcome to my chambers,” Marr greeted her with a slight tilt of his head. “You stepped onto Agraia a slave, and you leave as something more. I needn’t tell you why.”

“I… I used the Force.”

“Yes. And quite spectacularly, too. Have you ever seen something like this happen around yourself, before? Anything that you couldn’t quite explain?”

“No, Dark Lord. We slaves are taught to keep our heads down.”

“Perhaps a sensible attitude. I wonder how many slaves don’t notice their own gifts because of it, however.” He regarded him for a moment. “Your strength isn’t inconsiderable. With training, you could perhaps climb our ranks until you’re a respectable Lord.”

“I—I could become a Sith Lord?”

“Yes. Yes, you can. Or at least, you have an opportunity to try. I can recommend you to Korriban Academy, which is where our greatest Darths are forged. Once you’re a little better trained, of course. I do owe you a reward, after all.”

“I—I’d like to have asked for my family’s freedom.”

“Granted.” Marr nodded at his secretary, who nodded back. “If you have anyone else out there you want freed, give their names to my secretary later. She will see it done. She will also see to it that they receive a somewhat comfortable life. But you cannot see them again, not until you’ve proven yourself. For their safety, and yours. We Sith are ever contentious.”

“I take your meaning, Great One.”

“It may benefit you to take on a new name. Do you have one in mind?”

Zenon thought for a moment. His mind lingered on the entity that he thought he’d seen, stretching out from beyond an immeasurable void to scrutinize her memories. He remembered winning its approval. Perhaps he’d been given the right to bear its name. “Hekaten,” he answered. The Primordial Goddess of chaos, emptiness, and magic. Perhaps it was an ambitious name to go for, but something told him it was right. “Hekaten,” he repeated.

“A good name. Zenon Bassileion will be stripped from the records, and your family informed to not speak your name until your reunion. You will go to Uroboros Academy on Ziost, where the basics of communing with the Force. It is where those not born of a Sith Lineage are taught. It’s not as prestigious or favored as Sabahan’nur Academy, but it is safer. Students are not all at once thrust into the deep end. Your instructors will show some level of patience. As soon as you’re ready, you will be sent to Korriban. There, you will show the galaxy what you showed me today. Not just your power, but your courage. Your love for the Force, which convinced you to stay, while others fled.”

“Gladly, Great One.”

“Now. Stand. Tell me about the treasures you liberated from the Temple. Tell me everything you discovered.”

Zenon—now Hekaten—obeyed. To a degree. He hadn’t forgotten Kallig’s words. He would hide his greatest find until absolutely necessary.

It was really happening! The gods had answered his prayers! He was on his way to becoming a Sith Lord! A Darth, even! At this rate, he could teach the galaxy to know to respect the name of Hekate, the Primordial Goddess of the ever-changing realm, Chaos.

*

Chapter 11: The Scholar's Master

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

2 ATC

The ride from Ilum was longer than Devel Nirol had been expecting. It was as Master Ven had once told him; transit time from one side of Outer rim to the other took half of a small sojourn into the Core. And it took even longer to reach the Deep Core

He was aboard a cruiser today rather than a shuttle, one of the ships allocated to his Order’s new home’s defense fleet.

Devel felt truly lucky. He was to be one of the first Apprentices—or even learners—to resume their training on this world. To say he was excited was an understatement. He wondered what kind of world it was. Would it be a polar world, like Ilum? Or covered in grasslands, like Bothawui? Or would there be endless tree cover, like on Kashyyyk?

One thing was for certain. As the birthplace of the Jedi Order—and the one chosen for their resuscitation—he fully expected it to be a beacon of Light.

“Are we there yet?” he whispered to himself, as he’d done at least ten times a minute since their departure. But he hadn’t expected a passing guard to answer.

“Yeah, we’re here. We’ll be dropping out of Lightspeed in three minutes. Please prepare for re-entry.”

Devel excitedly made for a seat near the viewport. As promised, one hundred and sixty-four seconds later, the blue sea of Hyperspace broke into star lines, which resolved into stars. And there it was; a beautiful blue world like Alderaan or Chandrila. But that wasn’t what hit Devel. No, the moment they were in real space, he could Feel this wonderful bath of Light emanating from the world. “It is remarkable!” he declared.

A fellow passenger—the same guard who’d answered him earlier—grunted. “If you say so. You see one blue world, you’ve seen em all.”

“Really?” Devel rounded on him. “Can you not Feel that too? That sense of calm and peace, that uplifting of your spirits—”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guard said shortly. “All this Force stuff gives me the chills. We wouldn’t have Sith if not for the Force.”

Devel blinked. “But… but we wouldn’t have life either! The Force is the reason for our existence—”

“I said zip it,” the man growled. “You like it here? Hurray. It’s your new home after all.”

Devel was still feeling amazed that one might be so blind to such magnificence when he was boarding the shuttle to the surface.

*

The Masters’ Retreat,
Tython

A glad Devel emerged from the shuttle into the warm sunlight. The fact that the building he entered was smaller than he’d expected did not throw him off. He was stunned when he was waved over by a familiar figure—a man he’d only seen in holos and stills.

“Master Syo Bakarn!” he said delightedly.

“Welcome to Tython, dear Padawan!” the genial Jedi Master greeted him. The top of his head was shaved bald, but he did have a topknot and a goatee in the style of his people. Every muscle on his face was set in a relaxed, welcoming smiles matched by his friendly blue eyes. “If only Ven could be here today! He’d be so proud of his little boy.”

“I am delighted that you would say so, Master!” Devel bowed. “I will try my very hardest to be the Jedi he expected me to be.”

“I’m sure you will, my Boy. We all are, in fact. You have impressed us all greatly with your wisdom, compassion, and dedication to the Code.” Master Syo put a hand on his shoulder. “Your actions after the fall of the Temple were noted. Your tireless Healing saved many lives. Where some might have chosen anger and outrage, and others depression and despair, you chose a path true to the Code. We would’ve Knighted you then and there, had our infrastructure not been uprooted. But we needed to regroup. Rebuild a new home. And here at last in the ancestral home of the Jedi, we have a place for our most promising Padawans to complete their training. It took more time than we’d anticipated, but the Trials are at last ready for you to take.”

“Thank you,” Devel bowed lower. “Is Master Yuon here yet?”

“She arrived a week ago,” Master Syo confirmed. “In fact, she was supposed to be here with me to greet you. I wonder what’s keeping her?”

“She has a tendency to lose track of the time,” Devel explained.

“Yes, though that’s only when she’s engrossed. She knew that it would be a big day, today. She should be here. A student isn’t the only one who needs to show the respect.” Master Syo sounded a little displeased.

Devel was going to argue the point until he realized its validity. It was true; a teacher could not disrespect their student. Not their time, not their effort, and not their sincerity.

With my Trials so close at hand, it won’t be long until I have a Padawan learner of my own, soon. I must be prepared to be the Master they deserve.

“Master Syo,” Devel spoke up. “I… I’ve never been trained in teaching a student of my own. Will there be someone to guide me?”

Master Syo looked a little surprised by the question. “You can always ask your fellow Jedi for advice, you know that. But for the rest, you will have to recall how your own teachers taught you. Don’t you worry. Even if it’s not apparent, your training has prepared you for life as a Jedi.”

“I understand. Thank you, Master.”

“I see you’re already thinking ahead.”

“Apologies.”

“None required. A Jedi must look to the future. For our actions can leave deep impressions on the sands of time. We must take care, to see that our decisions are the right ones.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, Master.”

“Here she is at last. Yuon, you kept your Padawan waiting. I was beginning to worry.”

“So you’ve arrived safely, my young Padawan,” the older Jedi panted. Like she’d come here at speed. “I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly, but we already have a crisis on our hands.”

“A crisis, Master?”

“Tython is a treasure trove of ancient Jedi relics. Recently, our researchers uncovered several ‘teaching holograms,’ but they’ve not been fully studied. These holograms may be records of the founders of the Jedi Order. They’re absolutely irreplaceable. But a wandering tribe of local tribe has blundered into the general region. The holograms, and the crumbling structure they’re housed in, are all in grave danger.”

“Flesh Raiders?” Master Syo exclaimed. “They’ve entered one of our dig sites?” He turned to Devel. “The Flesh Raiders are Tython’s natives. Savage cannibals who destroy everything in their path.”

“Including the holograms and their generators. Guards are in the process of chasing away the Raiders, but they still need to be secured and moved to a safer location. I want you to leave at once.”

“No, Yuon,” Master Syo put in. “You can’t risk a Padawan against a mob of Flesh Raiders. Especially a Padawan like Devel, whose training has had little focus on combat.”

“A Padawan who was stronger in the Force at four, than I was at fifteen? Gifted students need greater challenges.” She turned back to him. “The facility—the school, the shrine, call it what you will—is a short speeder ride away from this place. Be vigilant. That region has dangers other than Flesh Raiders. Contact me, if you run into any real threats. Once you have the holograms, come meet me at the Temple.”

“Of course, Master. I will see you soon.”

*

Yuon was almost back to the speeder pad when Syo caught up to her. “Yuon!” he said with a bit of heat in his voice. Most younger, less experienced Jedi would feel disquiet at that slight anger, but Yuon was unruffled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I had to,” she replied. “This crisis began the moment Devel’s ship got here. At the exact same moment. It is a clear sign.”

“Is that really all you’ve got to say? Among all of the Padawans we’ve trained, Devel is the one of the least effective when it comes to combat. Forget Lightsabers or unarmed combat, he does not have the combat instinct for even Force duels! More than once, he has allowed opponents to flank him while he focused down the most obvious threat. A Jedi like him might be good when they have comrades to allow them the room to breathe, but all alone—”

“He will do well, Master Syo. I swear it. Besides. The enemy is not out in great numbers, and he is not alone out there. There are three teams of guards keeping the Flesh Raiders occupied. He will be fine. Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to prepare for my Padawan’s arrival.”

“Yuon! Yuon!” Syo shook his head. He wasn’t a stickler for the rules, but since when did a Jedi turn their back on a Master of the Council like that? Perhaps Jaric was right. Perhaps it was time that the mercurial Jedi Master was reined in. Gently.

*

Yuon Parr felt dizzy again on the short ride from the Masters’ Retreat to the Temple. She felt her mind weaken. Her senses failed for a second or two, and her ability to think diminished. It was a good thing she used droids for such mundane activities as flying, for doing so herself was inadvisable now.

It’s getting even worse, she thought to herself. She had neglected to give Master Syo the truth, though it was his right to ask for it.

Just the previous day, she’d spent a few hours giggling wildly to herself. Finding anything and everything hilarious. To her horror, she had woken up to find herself tormenting several small animals a few insects and a squirrel. The act had felt very entertaining to her. Her memory of those few hours was hazy, but she thought she called out a name at least a few times.

What was that name? Perkins? Parsons? It sounds so familiar, like something I should remember! Like I have a responsibility to! Why can’t I remember?! What is happening to me?

She giggled hysterically again.

The Droid spoke up. “Master Jedi? Is aught amiss?”

“No. Everything is fine.” Yuon had retained her grip on sanity. For now. But she didn’t think she had much time left.

Please, may it be enough for me to finish Devel’s Trials. I owe him that much.

*

The Gnarls

It wasn’t quite as bad as Devel had been expecting.

He ran into a few guards who were running a sweep of the perimeter, and another who were frightening away the Flesh Raiders with small-arms fire.

They look alarming, Devel observed. But it’s their Feel that worries me. I would not be surprised at all, if they are hostile to everything, including each other. They will need to be redeemed, at some point in time.

But they were easily fought off by soldiers armed with just common blasters.

The structure Master Yuon had directed him to was built into a mountain. It was no cave, however. All its halls were uniform and smooth, with flat floors and perpendicular walls.

Its door had been blocked by rocks, however. Probably why it had remained untouched for millennia.

Despite the urgency of his mission—or perhaps because of it—Devel could not help but take in his surroundings. He lingered at every alcove, statue, plaque, and engraving, wishing he had his papers and charcoals. Or at least his holocam and datapad. The language was faded, and the parts that were still legible were foreign to him.

His only comfort was that his language implant could translate spoken old Je’daii.

With eager anticipation, he made for the holograms. He went for the leftmost one first.

It was a human. Perhaps fair- to tan-skinned, with neatly-combed hair and sideburns.

“Activation protocol begins,” he said. “So, after the long silence, finally, someone comes.” He bowed formally. “According to this computer’s internal processors, it has been millennia since it was last activated. I am Garon Jard. Millennia ago, I stood as one of the founders of the Jedi order.”

Devel returned the bow, making it much lower to signify his respect to an older Master. “Good day, Master Garon. My name is Devel Nirol, Padawan of the Jedi Order. Can you understand me? Are you designed to interact with users?”

“Indeed, I am. I believe I was a precursor for something later generations created, called a ‘Holocron.’”

“Truly remarkable!” Devel exclaimed.

The hologram actually smiled. “Your excitement is palpable. But tell me. What is a Padawan?”

“I am an Apprentice to a full Knight,” Devel explained. “I spent my first nine years in a Jedi Temple. Taking my first steps. This is how most of us begin, in this day and age; we are found and brought to the Temple at a young age, so we can learn the Way early. At fourteen, we are assigned a Master, who is always a Jedi Knighted after completing several grueling trials; the Trials of Skill, Courage, Flesh, Insight, and Spirit. We are sent out into the world at their side, to learn the craft out in the real world. This is a Padawan. We remain at this rank until our Master and the Council agree that we are ready to be out on our own. That we can be trusted to follow the Code in difficult times. There are few failures, as the Council rarely makes mistakes.”

“Fascinating,” Master Jaron said, nodding sagely. “It is interesting to see how the Jedi Order has changed over the centuries.”

“There is a wrinkle, however. For nearly forty years, we were at war with an Order diametrically opposed to ours, called the Sith.”

“We have heard of them. The followers of Ajunta Pall.”

“Yes, Master. They were thought extinct a thousand years ago, but were biding their time for a second coming. The war lasted decades, but when faced with a lengthy stalemate, the Sith tricked us with a false truce and sacked our capital. We lost the war, and our Headquarters. Our new Grandmaster was brought to our birthplace by the Force, and we are here to rebuild. We are few now, so many standards have been relaxed. Jedi are still inducted into the Order, who have spent most of their lives outside. I heard tell of an older gentleman being inducted. On the other side of things, it was tradition for Padawans to be allowed to remain as apprentices well into their mid-twenties, even if they were ready. But these days, the Jedi needs as many Knights as we can field.”

“Sad times,” Master Garon said sadly. “All the more, since this was not the future I envisioned for the Order. When it began, I saw that we must be dedicated to peace. To calming our emotions and ending all war across the Galaxy. If we fought, it should only be in self-defense. That is the founding principle of civilization.”

“A noble ideal, Master Garon,” Devel nodded. “I would love to listen to your wisdom at a later time, for there is danger here.”

“Is that so? Then taking these teachings to safety before the fighting starts is in keeping with our purpose. Carry out your duty in haste, young student. We will have all the time to converse when our environment is less hostile. Activation protocol complete. Go well.”

After stowing away the first hologram, Devel switched on the second. This was a woman with short hair, and speaking in slow tones.

“Activation protocol begins. Ah, another has come to listen. Your conversation with Jaron was logged, so you do not have to go over the same points that you did with him, young Padawan.”

“Understood, Master.”

“When the Jedi Order was founded, I, Cale Brin, said we should devote ourselves to justice. True justice cannot be driven by emotion. We Jedi can set our passions aside, and seek truth without fear or favor.”

Devel did not have much to say about this, as judgement and justice were not aspects he had focused on. “I’m sorry, Master. While I do appreciate reason and serenity, I do not think it is a Jedi’s place to arbitrate justice in a vacuum. It sounds dangerously close to politics and statecraft. Things the Jedi Order has sworn off, as they can too easily lead to the Dark Side. We govern our own. And when necessary, we mediate in places we have been asked to intervene. No more.”

“Justice is not a thing only of law and order,” the hologram said, not sounding at all upset at being contradicted by a mere learner. “It is about balance. Every crime has its ripple in the Force. It might be but a whisper on its own; but when you put a hundred together, they become a chorus that affect those around them. The more that discordance grows, the more the Force is thrown off-balance. Noise can shatter stone. Imbalance needs to be addressed. If not by fighting crime, then by healing and caring for its victims. Do you understand, young Devel?”

“I do, and I agree,” Devel bowed. “Healing is my specialty. I Healed nearly three hundred critically wounded patients on Coruscant.”

The Master’s hologram looked impressed. “Then your career is bound to be one of a model Jedi. Remember. We Jedi are renowned for our fairness and our honesty. That reputation is yours to keep. Activation protocol complete.”

Devel moved on to the next one. This was a hooded man with dark skin.

“Activation protocol begins. Another Jedi comes to learn? Excellent, excellent. I am Ters Sendon, keeper of histories. A founder and chronicler of the Jedi Order. I saw us becoming the guardians of knowledge and secrets. We Jedi would safeguard the wisdom of the galaxy.”

“A most noble goal. An exciting adventure.”

“My travels took me to many worlds, more than any other founder. I saw, heard, and dreamed. Jedi seek to dispel ignorance. To understand other cultures, and bring that understanding to others. Never forget that, wherever your path leads. Activation protocol complete.”

Devel was taken aback by how little the hologram chose to speak. Perhaps it had already judged him as a scholar as well. He moved on to the final one, eager to see what this final hologram had to offer…

Only to find it nonresponsive.

Is it damaged? he wondered. It has been millennia, after all. It’s a miracle three were in such good condition!

He wasn’t very good with technology, so his confidence in being able to troubleshoot the problem was low. Thankfully, upon igniting his blade, he noticed some scratches on the casing. He looked around, and saw that indeed there were signs that one person had entered the chamber before him.

He used his comm. “Master, I successfully recovered three, but the fourth has been pried out of its container. By a claw, unless I’m mistaken.”

“Wait, it was stolen? That makes no sense! Flesh Raiders destroy, rather than steal! I’ll look into this. But you should bring the other Holocrons to the Temple.”

“Understood, Master Yuon.”

*

The Jedi Temple

Master Yuon Parr was waiting outside the Council Chambers when the doors opened. Out marched three Twi’lek Pilgrims, two with green skin, and the third with blue. The oldest was the one who called herself the Grand Matriarch, while the other two were in their early-to-mid thirties; one female, the other male.

“I HOPE YOU’RE ALL PROUD OF YOURSELVES!” the man roared to a near-empty Temple. “YOU ABANDON US DESPITE ALL YOUR CLAIMS OF DEFENDING THE INNOCENT!”

“Enough, Nalen,” the younger of the two women chided him. “We don’t need the lapdogs of the Republic. Our way makes us strong; our way makes us independent.”

“You are correct, Sumari,” the Grand Matriarch said in a deep, strong voice. “Our ways rekindle our strength of old. You have learned our ways well. I am glad I chose you to be my successor as Matriarch.”

“I won’t let you down, Grand Matriarch.”

The trio walked away, discussing matters of their settlement among themselves.

Yuon entered the Council chamber next, followed in by her companion. “What was that about? Who are those Twi’leks?”

Satele Shan—now the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order—sighed heavily. “They are the Pilgrims who arrived five days ago and laid claim to the land just beyond the grounds.”

Yuon raised an eyebrow. “Pilgrims? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Not all that surprising, considering you’ve had your nose between your books,” Master Jaric Kaedan said.

“How did they even get here? I thought word of Tython’s location was restricted.”

“Kiamel’sedon,” Bela Kiwiiks replied. “Poor man always did have too soft a spot for a sob story. He will be disciplined. Once we find out who else has found out our location thanks to this one breach of secrecy.”

“They petitioned the Senate to authorize their colony,” Master Satele said. “They were denied. They were told the many, many dangers of settling here. They’re here anyway, and they still want our help.”

“I see,” Yuon said. “I suppose you turned them down.”

“Yes,” the Grandmaster confirmed, looking unhappy. “As the Senate ordered.”

“They’re disobedient yet entitled,” Master Orgus said softly, bouncing his leg in annoyance. “But still… it is not our way to deny aid.”

“What aid?” Master Kaedan asked. “This may be our new home, but there are only a few Knights and guards available to us. None can be spared, and anyone not already here cannot be called away from their posts without good reason. And things are only going to get worse from here. The students have already started arriving. The first Trials will take place starting tomorrow. Our Younglings and Initiates will start coming in next month. We will only have enough people to defend ourselves from the dangers of this world, let alone a Sith attack. The Twi’leks chose poorly, coming here.”

“It’s still a shame,” Orgus said, and everyone seemed to agree.

“So what brings you to us today, Master Yuon?” Satele asked. “Have you decided what your student’s Trials will entail?”

“Unfortunately, I have another concern. An urgent one.”

“Go on.”

Yuon turned to Master Gnost-Dural, the head of the Archives. “Devel just returned from the Gnarls, from the Hall of Founding. He brings with him three holograms; Masters Jaron, Cale, and Ters. The fourth and most troublesome one—the one of Rajivari—has been stolen. Perhaps by Flesh Raiders.”

As she’d anticipated, Master Gnost instantly realized the dangers. “This is most disturbing. There’s no telling what such a violent people might learn from such an artifact. And if they have Sensitives among them, then Force help us all.”

“I have a friend who is an expert in tracking and hunting,” Yuon said. “Qyzen Fess. Given our current manpower shortage, I request your permission to have him brought here. And do not worry; I will take all necessary precautions.”

Satele looked over at Master Gnost, who nodded urgently. “Very well,” she said. “We will give you what resources we can, but please ensure that your Padawan is your first priority. Do not devote more of your time and energy than is strictly necessary. And do not send him out without cause. We’ve tamed the surrounding regions, but it gets fairly dangerous beyond a certain point.”

“Do not worry, Satele—”

“Grand Master,” Kaedan prompted, and Yuon was shocked she needed to make the correction. She still thought of the younger woman as… no. She was not only a woman grown now, but a true Master.

Yuon bowed deep. “Forgive me. You know how distracted I can get. I did not intend any disrespect.”

Satele—the Grand Master—smiled with her usual gentle humility. “Please. It is no trouble. I was only appointed yesterday, after all.”

Yuon found her Apprentice standing at the door, taking in the newly constructed temple. His eyes were fixed on the Great Holocron sculpture at the moment.

“That’s not an actual Holocron, you know,” she told him.

“Of course, Master. But I do love Holocrons. And seeing such a sculpture as this…” he ran out of words and continued to stare at it. He closed his eyes for a second. “I can Sense the Light. Every one of us who has already entered—few though that number might be—have seen what I did. And it has already been endowed with a few tiny but bright figments of Light. Even we Jedi cannot help but place our hopes in symbols such as this.”

Yuon was a little surprised by his words. She concentrated her Inner Eye upon the sculpture. “Interesting. You are not wrong at all. Symbols do have power, clearly. I will have to think on this later. Now, follow me. We will give the holograms a place of honor in our archives. After that, you may meditate on what you’ve learned today.”

“The Archives,” Devel whispered delightedly. “Are they fully operational?”

“They are,” Yuon confirmed. “The Order is lucky. Not only did most of our civilian Archivists survive the Sacking, several Jedi did too. But more importantly, Master Gnost hired a very interesting young woman.”

“Oh?”

“A human by the name of Jasme. She has a love for the library that surpasses even Master Gnost’s. She’s good at cataloging and arranging the shelves of the Archives, and has demonstrated a flair for interior decoration, too. Tython’s Archives might be more beautiful than the ones on Coruscant used to be. And to cap it all off, she’s the most pleasant child I’ve ever met.”

“That is good to hear. I suppose our rebirth is off to a good start.”

“It is,” Yuon smiled, thinking about her Apprentice, walking beside her. Her final Apprentice, she knew. And her greatest. He was even wiser than he was gifted. She had no doubt in her mind that he would sit on the Council one day. Perhaps succeed Satele as Grand Master.

The thought gave her comfort. It was perfect poetry that he was to be the first student to undergo his Trials on this world.

Our rebirth really is off to a good start.

*

Chapter 12: Field Day

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

3 ATC,
Iridonia

Cadet Roban Queens was happy to be back on Iridonia. For all its dangers and hazards, it was still his home. Captain Tyre, bless his kind soul, had given him permission to take everyone to his hometown of Joharic.

Which was why they were here, a hundred and twenty kilometers from their training zone, engaging in some questionably sanctioned downtime.

Joharic had a lot to offer in terms of entertainment; it had three retired master chefs who had opened an affordable restaurant to cater only to the locals—and their friends. There was a museum of history, full of replicas and interactive programs on Zabraki history. There were many sprawling vineyards, including the one owned by the Queens family. There was a large ranch where race berogs were reared. There was a local hot spring, though it was dangerous to use it for longer than forty minutes at a time. There were also enough bars and cafes for those seeking hookups.

All of his squad mates and trainers were perusing a different one of these attractions, but Roban decided to tour the spaceport. It wasn’t large, but it had some of the most elegant architecture he’d seen in such a facility. The whole place had bas reliefs carved on every one of the bricks and tiles that it was built up of. The pillars, the domes, the arches, the spires… they were all beautiful. A visiting Alderaanian had once remarked that it was all a little much, as if someone was trying to fit every known kind of architecture into one, amorphous mess. Which was why no one exported wines to that world anymore. And the master chefs, who held a banquet on Coruscant once every year, had implemented a no-Alderaanians-allowed rule.

Today, Roban was admiring a statue of Bao Dur, the genius scientist who had helped end the Mandalorian Wars, three centuries prior. He stood beside the woman everyone believed he held as his one, true love: the Jedi Exile, Raya Kol.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” a human beside him sighed. “Such artful craftsmanship!”

“That, it is.” Roban turned to find a beautiful human woman standing by his side. She had long hair which was dyed electric blue at the ends, and pink above the roots. Her lovely eyes were the same blue as a jolly sea under a summer sky. She was a little on the plumper side, a far cry from the grizzled, sculpted men and women he was used to training with. Her lustrous hair was held in a ponytail by a pretty butterfly clasp.

Her round face had a small, golden star on its left cheek, and a red diamond on the other. There was a ruby dangling from her left ear. She had a blaster on her hip, and a slim vibroblade on her tall boot.

She coughed a few times into her hand, which had its nails alternately painted pink and blue.

“Sorry for staring,” he managed, once he got his mouth closed.

“No problem,” the girl grinned. Her voice was soft and accented. “I was checking you out too. My name is Juniper McIntosh. I’m Captain of the Ruby Sea. It’s parked in the docking bay behind the crates over there.”

“I’m Roban Queens. I’m just a cadet.”

“A very strapping young cadet,” Juniper grinned, not even bothering to hide her own interest. “So how about it, soldier? Up for a drink with a cute young lady?”

“You know it!” Roban was far too weak against a pretty temptress. But at least this time, he didn’t have a nagging suspicion that the woman was out to take something from him.

*

Roban took his date dancing, then to the Triple Threat restaurant, where they dined on the finest moussaka, keftedes, and pita bread that the place had to offer.

“I gotta say, Iridonia isn’t what I was expecting,” Juniper grinned. “All that talk about acid pools and empty deserts, and here I am, like I’m on a cheaper resort world!”

“It’s only cheap to locals,” Roban grinned.

“I know. Thanks for the treat!” She leaned forward to kiss him. “Don’t worry. I have my ways of making this an equal exchange.” She kissed him again, and this time, he kissed her back. Her perfume was as intoxicating as her appearance.

“I’m counting on it.”

“But treats aside, this view alone is to die for. The skies, the trees, the vineyards! I could retire here, someday.”

“It would be hard,” Roban admitted. “Thanks to certain laws protecting local commerce, it’s tough to open competing businesses. You’ll have to provide a service that doesn’t rival anyone else in Joharic.”

“Or, maybe I could find the right person to marry. What do you say?” She winked. “I’m just kidding. Still, maybe I am open to marrying you someday. You’re pleasant company, and know how to treat a girl right. And those shoulders…” She licked her lips.

“I’m afraid it might be hard,” Roban sighed. “It always is, dating military people.”

“I guess so. I’ll have to settle for what I can get. Any place we can go dancing?”

“There’s a club next door…”

“Maybe not. I want us to be sober for my thank-you present.” She kissed him again. This time, she engaged her tongue. A shiver ran down Roban’s spine. She ran her fingers up his leg, introducing another chill in his bloodstream before stopping for now. “So tell me. You’re the scion of the Queens family, right?”

“The word ‘Scion’ is putting it too thick. We’re not some old-blood billionaire family. Just well-off.”

“But you are well established and respected here on Iridonia.”

“Perhaps. I was always interested in the military. My ancestors have served, and we’re proud of them. My Great-uncle fought in a Hutt war, and was able to buy himself a small arsenal that’s still on display in our town museum. I used to love looking at it as a child. I guess, I wanted to win glory on the battlefield. For the Republic, which has been good to us.”

She stirred her food sadly. “Shame that the Great War is over. I’m sure you would’ve made a big difference.”

“There’s always a need for a good fighter. Even if it’s something small, like fighting off pirates.”

“I guess that’s true. Next time I’m trying to run from Black Sun mercs, I know whom to call. You don’t mind if I stay in touch, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you.”

“So what’s your story?”

She pointed a finger at herself in surprise, as if to say ‘You wanna know about me?’. “I’m not as interesting as I try to look, sadly. I’m from Eriadu. It’s… it’s an ugly world. Everything is about feeding the machine. Soulless. Utilitarian. Everyone’s got a low-to-mid level job in one of the many factories or labs. The architecture is dead. The water and air are polluted. I was born to be just another cog in the giant machine.” She coughed. “I used to love adventure holos. So much galaxy out there, so many beautiful things, and I was caught on such a stupid, gray world! I took the first chance I got. Jumped onboard this vessel heading to Carrick Station. A man named Nico found me there, trying to secure work on any freighter, and offered to take me on as a cleaner. It wasn’t great work, but he showed me the galaxy. Gave me free flying lessons. Even helped me treat the respiratory diseases I’d picked up, living on a world like that. Not that I’m fully cured, mind you. He wasn’t swimming in wealth. But it mattered that he thought to help me. One day, he took me aside. Said he had to disappear. But he got me a job with a friend, a man called Dusty Ronnel. As his first mate, no less. Dusty left his ship to me, when he was shot by a Bounty Hunter who mistook him for someone else. That was last year. I never expected to become a full captain at twenty-four.” She took a bite from Roban’s fork. “My own First Mate just up and left last week. So I’m flying solo for now.”

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

“I’m sure you know this already, but in today’s galaxy, this is a privileged life.”

“Tell me about it. I’m often teased for being the rich kid. Almost everyone else in my squad is either tenth-gen military, or refugees looking for payback.”

She coughed. “I don’t suppose the Empire could just shove it and die. I wish I was brave enough to fight too. But I’m a coward. I’d rather run than fight. What I want to do is travel the galaxy. Explore new places, meet new faces, eat new cheeses.”

“That’s fine,” Roban slipped an arm around her. “If a civilization arms all its citizens, it’s dire straits. It’s better that you’re honest with yourself, not pretending to be a soldier. You won’t believe how common it is for soldiers to run. People who can’t be a soldier, are better off not forcing themselves. You can’t have a state comprised of just troops, after all.”

“Thank you.” She coughed and traced a finger on his jaw. “You do know that I’ll be taking off my pants for you later, right? You don’t have to butter me up.”

“Maybe I’m not trying to. Maybe I really feel this way. And want you to avoid thinking on bad lines.”

Her smile was full and sincere. “Thank you, Roban.” He noticed there was a chipped front incisor. And it only served to amplify her charm.

“You’re welcome.”

*

Once dusk fell, Roban took Juniper to the hot spring, where they took up a room for the night.

At first, her kisses started seductive and tender, but escalated to a furious wrestling match once they got to tearing off each other’s clothes. Her passionate moans were pleasant to hear, and her breasts were pillowy and pleasant to hold. He nailed her to their bed, ramming his throbbing co*ck up her puss* with so rapidly that she sounded like she was driving a go-kart through bumpy terrain. But climaxed much sooner than he’d hoped. But she didn’t seem to mind. As he collapsed next to her, he finished her off with his fingers. “R… R…. Roban! ROBAN! OH YES! YEss... Yessss!” she moaned as she too came. He took her in his arms and kissed her forehead, stroking a nipple under his thumb.

“Was that worth it?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? Everything about our date was worth it. You’re much more than the good sex you offer.”

“Thank you. You’re the first person to tell me that.” She kissed him again. “You’re… you’re a good guy, Roban. Maybe in another life…”

“Yeah. But who knows? Maybe we can still make it work.”

“With you? I’d love to try.” She coughed a few times. “Let me know if you’re ready for round two yet. I think I want to enjoy today, after all.”

*

“Cheers!” The twenty cadets of Gamut Squad clacked full mugs of brandy into each other, spilling contents all over the table.

“To Prince Roban!” Tatiana Horakowa grinned.

“To Prince Roban!” Captain Tyre agreed. “Long may he fight, and loud may he burst!”

“His bangs sure are noisy,” Arche grinned. She’d been in the room next to his, she claimed. And she couldn’t sleep from the sounds of his lovemaking. Roban wished he’d gotten more time with Juniper. She wasn’t the usual sort of girl he ended up with, the con artists, crooks, and temptresses. She was sincere and nice. But she’d left right after breakfast. The parting smile she’d given him was something he hoped he’d remember forever.

“Awww, is Robbie missing his lil girlfren olreddy?” Tatiana pinched his cheeks. She clapped his shoulders. “Don’t worry, ole boi. Plenty more fish in the sea. It’s a big galaxy!”

“That’s my big brother, alright,” Robart grinned. “Falling head over heels and mooning like a lost bantha. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine after a nice, long drink. Thanks again for taking care of him. Without a steady hand, he’s gonna end up in bed with a truly dangerous bitch someday.”

“Indeed,” Mother boomed. “It’s on you then, Bart! Find a good, respectable young girl for your Ban to marry! That’ll reduce the chances of his wandering!”

Everyone laughed, and eager eyes turned his way. Roban knew that he wasn’t going to hear the end of this.

“Can we move on, already? I’d like to head over to the training course.”

“Why the rush? We have until tomorrow to complete this task!”

“I say we go for it. We have something of a sword hanging over our heads. Let’s finish off, then end the session in style.” Lieutenant Rudy winked at Rovina Queens, who feigned disgust.

I guess I’m not the only one with sh*t taste, Roban sighed.

“Let’s get ready then. You all have thirty minutes to be out at the speeder with your packs full and your gear ready. Anyone missing gets left behind.”

As he passed Rovina, Roban distinctly heard her whisper to Rudy, “Thirty minutes is plenty, right?”

Definitely not the only one.

*

The Field Test Zone

“Alright, maggots!” Captain Tyre called. “It’s time to begin your field test! You have three assignments, one in each valley. The first is a simple Capture the Flag mission. You need to find your enemies’ flag, and bring it here. Once you’re done, we move on to the next one. The timer for the second test will begin the second you’ve completed the first, so marching time is part of the test.”

“Who’s the enemy?”

“Battle Droids. Set for training. They have paintball guns, just like you. But their grenade launchers will still leave you in the hospital if you’re dumb enough to remove your helmet in combat.”

Everyone stared at Arche. “Hey, it was just that one time!” the Twi’lek protested. “And they were covering my tcharan! I really needed Twi friendly headgear!”

“Nah, you were just trying to be smart. Remember that time she took off her breastplate to flash that poor Devaronian?”

“It’s miraculous how badly she underestimated the unbuckling time!”

“Shot full of holes before the cadet even realized what she was doing.”

“Flashing the enemy when you’re not in gear isn’t a bad idea though.”

“Only if you have boobs. Arche’s so flat she could pass for a boy—”

“SHUT UP!!!!!” Arche cried.

“Ahem. Yes, I agree with her, cadets. Enough banter. Your clock is already running. You’re down three minutes. Thirty-seven left.”

“What?”

“Oh, and we released some fauna. Be prepared for unexpected fights.”

“What kind of fauna?”

“Juvenile reeks, wraids, acklays, and K’lor’slugs. Thirty-six minutes.”

Everyone ran.

*

They finished the CTF mission with hardly any time to spare. Roban and Tatiana were the only ones without any paintball marks on their armor yet.

The second game was an escort mission. They had to guard Sergeant Holds and the case she carried to the end of the valley. There was some confusion once they came under attack by a squadron of drones. One landed right by a rock lion’s den, causing an attack by their angry adults.

Tatiana killed the alpha with a dagger to the eye, impressing the officers with the impressive throw.

The final test was an assault on an enemy stronghold.

“So how do we do this?” Tatiana asked, as they began their trek to the makeshift fortress. They could see it from this distance; it stood on top of a small hillock, and was made using prefabricated walls and turrets.

“We split our forces,” Roban suggested. “Sixteen of us draw their fire, while the others infiltrate from… here.” He pointed at the spot on the map. “Tatiana, Arche, Tivon, and Jadio.”

“Figures you’d take diversionary,” Arche giggled. “Considering how loud you bang!”

“Take twenty minutes to reconnoiter the fortress. Pick an entry point. Once you’re inside—”

“I know what to do,” Tatiana interrupted. Of course, she did. Despite her skinny frame from years of fighting bulimia, she was on the path to becoming a great soldier. Infiltrations were her specialty.

Roban’s comm crackled. “Gamut Squadron, this is code jay-oh-five! We’re shutting down the course! Get out of there! Enter the fortress, we’ll pick you up inside!”

Everyone looked at each other for a few minutes, panic on their faces. A suddenly nervous Tatiana threw up beside the bushes. Jarome rushed to administer an injection once she was done.

“You heard him!” Roban spoke softly. “Our weapons are modified for fighting droids, so we can’t rely on blasting our way out of any sticky situation.”

“Daggers, darts, cables, and nets work just fine,” Tatiana said weakly. “And things like stealth field generators.”

“True,” Roban nodded. “And we can always rely on grenades for a distraction.”

“He almost said ‘bang’ there,” Arche whispered loudly.

“Let it go,” Tatiana advised. “that joke’s stale.”

“We’re around half a kilometer from our objective,” Jarome said quietly. “We need to move out now!”

“Right. Move out, Gamut squad!”

The squad was almost at the gates to the fortress when the threat made itself known.

“What is that?” Arche cried.

“Incoming!”

“Defensive positions!” Roban roared. “Formation Grek!”

Shield specialists formed the front rank.

“COME AND GET SOME!” Breg Harpe screamed, and hurled a sonic grenade at the incoming beasts. They were still covered in shadows, so Roban couldn’t make them out yet. The sonic charge changed that.

Two writhing masses of tentacles burst out of the trees, screaming angrily. They were nimble, jumping out of the way of blasterfire like it was moving slower than a drunken Hutt.

“What the heck are those?” Roban cried.

“Blixii!” Hoffman screamed back.

Arche almost dropped her blaster. “You can talk?”

“I’LL SING IF YOU GET ME HOME SAFELY!” the quiet Zeltron shrieked. “KILL EM! KEEP EM OFF ME!”

The blixii were already upon them. One slipped underneath an electronet and launched itself at Breg. Its hungry maw took a bit out of his face, but it didn’t stay still. The other one closed in on Roban, perhaps considering his assault cannon the most dangerous weapon in the squad. Roban stood firm as it approached, and tossed an ion grenade at its mouth right before impact. It bit down and swallowed on instinct. The ion grenade which normally only stunned organics, instead fried its nervous system.

The other one was dead, killed by a similar tactic courtesy of Tatiana.

“Over there!” Arche cried, pointing. “More of them!”

“How many?” Hoffman whined.

“I count nine,” said Bolt.

“Wait till they’re close!” Roban ordered. “Have grenades, flares or shotguns ready. They’re too nimble to shoot from a distance!”

“Roger.”

“Hang on, I wanna try something.” Tatiana tried a different approach. She overloaded her stealth field generator, appearing and disappearing as she dashed towards them. The blixii were left totally confused, and stopped in their tracks momentarily. She tossed a tox grenade into one mouth, and a poison dart into three more. They screamed in horror, and began running away.

“Tatiana!” Roban threw down an electronet right in front of the blixus that was closest to catching his friend. He emptied the grenade launcher from his cannon, kicking up dust but slowing down the monsters. He put his gun down, satisfied that he had their attention, and pulled out a heavy pistol in his left hand and a vibroaxe in his right. He activated the shield on his left gauntlet, and waited for the bastards. Tatiana took up a position behind him, her slim blaster steady as a rock. Three blixii burst out of the dust right in front of him. He caught a tentacle on his shield and hacked at it with his axe. Tatiana opened fire on another, forcing it to change its trajectory. They both rolled to avoid the third. They fired at it as it passed between them, aiming high so there was a reduced risk of crossfire. Both of them managed to hit its main body. Seizing the opportunity, Roban slammed his axe into where he hoped the brain would be. There was a loud shriek that disoriented him.

“ROBAN!”

“CURSES!”

The two which they had thwarted were back to haunt him, as was one more which had attacked the others. He was caught in their tentacles unable to move. Tatiana hurled her last dagger at one of them, but it evaded her. She raised her gauntlet to fire a poison dart, but the last blixus sneaked up on her. She screamed in shock as she was lifted into the sky, but luckily, Roban’s blaster happened to be pointed in that general direction. He shot five times, eventually hitting the blixus. It dropped her, but she landed badly.

Her shout of pain echoed through the woods, and Roban winced to see her twisted foot.

Damn… I was hoping at least she could get out of this alive.

The others were all dead. Killed, while he and Tatiana were occupied on their end. Roban wondered why he wasn’t dead yet, then noticed that the blixii were fighting each other over the spoils. He didn’t have much room to move, but he was just above a blixus now… it’s now or never!

He voiced a command that armed and dropped all of his remaining ion grenades at once. Two of them fell into the maw underneath him, while two more rolled up to a second. The former died at once, and the second was stunned. Two sets of tentacles released him. He swung the axe, cutting off the tentacles holding his waist and leg. He fired his final electronet at the last one, trapping it in place. Tatiana hurled a poison grenade at its mouth, finishing it off. Roban walked painfully to the stunned blixus and hacked at it. Once, twice, thrice. Then he roared at the top of his lungs.

“Ban! You okay?” Tatiana was walking up to him, painfully dragging her limp leg.

“Swell. You?”

“I’ll live.” She seized him and pulled herself up for a very messy kiss. “Not used to being saved like that. I’ll show you how grateful I am at a later date.”

“Would you look at that? My second biggest dream came true.”

“What’s your biggest one?”

“That you’ll go out on a few dates with me.”

“Is that all? You shoulda just asked.” She kissed him again.

When the adrenaline faded, they looked around at the rest of their squad. As Roban thought, they were all dead. Most had bites chomped off them. He wasn’t close to anyone here, except Arche, who had been a classmate for two years. The poor Twi’lek had had her gut sliced. There were still tears in her lifeless eyes. A small-caliber blaster bolt to her head told Roban how she’d died—by her own hand.

“I wish we coulda done something,” Tatiana whispered.

“Me too. But there were just so many of them…”

“Come on. There might be more of em out there.”

“Lean on me.”

“Lean on you? I expect you to princess-carry me outta here. I’m your girlfriend now, after all.”

“You’re no princess.”

“I’m your princess. Those are my terms. Take it, or leave it.”

“Done.”

“The fortress is over there. Let’s hope our ride gets here before more blixii do.”

*

Roban had never seen the Captain this depressed. He had come to pick up the soldiers personally.

“What happened, Sir?”

“A ship carrying beasts for some Hutt was making a stopover. It was shot down by our forces for accidentally broadcasting an Imperial beacon. Who’d have thought they were carrying blixii, of all things? Dangerous creatures. Worse than even Rancors or acklays. The ones you killed were still juvenile. The full-grown ones are…” he shuddered.

“We’re sorry, Sir. We did our best.”

“Which is why the two of you survived. Good job. I guess this means you passed the test. We’ll let you know about your new assignments in a few weeks. In the meantime, you’re both on leave. Rest, recover. Rise up again, if you can.”

Both cadets saluted. “Yes, Sir!”

“Luckily, you can both return right back to Joharic. It’s a good enough place to take a load off. You can have your therapy sessions remotely.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You did well here today, the both of you. I don’t know anyone who’s survived twelve blixii before. A fully-grown one has been known to take down a Jedi. Your accomplishment will probably get you noticed. You’re both going places. Have a nice rest.”

*

A few months later

Juniper McIntosh rubbed her belly as she waited for her clearance to leave.

Joharic was a famously exclusive town, but Roban had allowed her to partake in it. She had enjoyed every minute with him. He was a good man. It was only a few weeks after their parting that she’d discovered that he’d given her another gift.

With a chuckle, she rubbed her belly again.

It was always her desire to have a child someday, maybe raise it on her own. But she’d never dreamed she’d get her chance this early. She’d been diagnosed with fertility issues a while ago, so she’d assumed she would need some medical help in conceiving. She had been setting aside money for the procedure.

Good to know she could commit that fund entirely to giving her child a good life, now.

“Thank you, Roban. I will always remember you for being so nice to me. I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. But it won’t be until your baby has been born, will it? Until then, stay safe.”

*

Chapter 13: Idea of Fun

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

3 ATC,
In Orbit, Fornax

Everyone aboard the Skipper’s Delight was sound asleep, except for the pilots on duty.

Juun Stede and Jerre Kraot were both good kids who had bonded over their shared origins. And their matching, pink hair.

“Are yoo sure bout this, Juunie? The Cap’n wants us on Tanaab by 08:00.”

“Ow, lighen up!” Juun grinned. “Even ef we take three hours on Fornax, we should still reach Tanaab on time.”

“Only if we take the Oriole’s Tunnel. Tha’s one uh the mo dangeris lanes!”

“Sure it is! Bu tha’s whot makes it so fun! Just like the rings of Fornax! Cummon, Jerre? Where’s that sensa advainchure yoo useta have?”

“Juunie, are yeh drunk?”

“Whay woul’thah be relevant?”

“Ah ain’t advenchyurus. Ahm the guy who always geds caughdup in yor messes.”

“Ohhh, wuz tha’ th’case? Ah can’t rmember!”

“Yoo relly are drunk,” Jerre said apprehensively. “Yoo’d bette nawt’ve stowlen yor booze outa the Cap’n’s stash!”

“Where else woul’ ah’ve go’en it?”

“Yor own stash?”

“Bu’ tha’s fawr pardies!”

“Juunie!”

“Look, we cn sid’ere arguin, or we can ged this show on th’road! Yoo know id’s gunna happn.”

“Alrigh then. Let’s ge’this done.”

“Thaaa’s tha spirit! C’mere!” She kissed his forehead and sat back. She bucked herself in and hit the throttle.

“Yoo know… Fornax is a beauty. Worth it jus teh come oud here.”

“Yeah! Now… into the rings we go!”

The ship zoomed forward, really whooshed like a goose which had sat on a bed of charcoals. The Skipper’s Delight wasn’t a very maneuverable ship; it had been designed for hauling as much cargo as possible. But that was what made this fun for Juun. And for Jerre too, if he was honest with himself.

They had to do more than pilot the ship through a difficult obstacle; they had to predict what route to take long before they took it. See, they both had something beyond luck. They had a sense for it. A real knack.

That’s what allowed them to stand out from the crowd. The best pilots of the Outer Rim.

Oh, and the obstacle they were flying through? Those were the Fire Rings of Fornax, which was a beautiful formation of five asteroid rings that orbited the planet. One of the wonders of the galaxy.

“Gun it,” Juunie grinned.

Jerre complied, and they accelerated until it looked like the planet was shooting towards them. The first ring was fast approaching.

Juun worked on the pitch, while Jerre handled the thrusters. Under their deft hands, the ship yeehawed around difficult rocks like a leaf flowing in the breeze. Juun insisted on doing a barrel roll to get around a few obstacles, while Jerre couldn’t help but engage the thrusters at the last minute.

She’s right. Ahm as baad ez she is!

The ship corkscrewed through the rings as if her pilots were born knowing the safe way through. Eyes were something neither seemed to need while piloting.

But their smooth sailing ended without so much as a curtsy. As they emerged from the final ring, they flew right into what looked like an off-the-records space station.

“Oops.”

“Run for it.”

“Unidentified vessel, you are entering Mandalorian airspace. Transmit your clearance codes, or prepare to be boarded. If you try to leave, we will shoot you out of the sky—”

“Like hell you can do that, bucketheads!”

“Chargin’ nose gun.”

“F’rge’the nose gun, ahm arming proton torpedoes. All of em.”

“Umm. Juunie? If we use all them torps, Cap’n Moss is gonna find out.”

“We’ll jus’ resupplah while e’s not lookin. We need tuh blow these mofus first. Mandos suck.”

“Proton torps ready.”

“Fire.”

“Firin’ all.”

“Wait… what’re you doing?!” the Mando sentry was panicking. “Basilisk Station, raise shields, raise shields!”

“Too late! Take us around!”

“Got it.”

Neither needed sensors to know that they’d taken out the station, but now they had a squadron of angry Mando Warpigeons¹ (¹ Technically they’re Warbirds, but these two hate Mandalorians) on their tail.

“Let’s make this rough, shall we?”

“Ahm not happy running. These f*cken Mandos need to taste plasma.”

“Agreed. Best not tuh damage th’ rings wastin them Mandos. Wanna take the turret?”

“No. We’re usin the nose gun. Ready to get really wild.” The ship did a sharp turn around an asteroid, just in time to catch the tail warpigeons. Jerre squeezed the trigger, and they turned into three ugly fireblossoms.

Juunie did a somersault maneuver; difficult at the best of times, but damn near impossible in the fire rings. Near impossible wasn’t true impossible. She got the nose around just in time for the lead ships to come around the asteroid. Jerre hit the trigger right on cue, and two more got clipped. The third avoided the laser fire, but ran into one of its dying wingmates.

The Mandos hailed them again.

“You stinking parjaks! You just want to make things even worse for you, don’t you?”

“Mandos tacked ahr planet,” Juun sneered. “Yoo guys talk a lot bout yer honor and yer skills, but tha s’pposed honor didn’ stop yoo from killin kids. Yoo Mandos are a civ’lization uh raiders, thieves, bandits, n pirates! Any Mando we see dies in fire and ash. Kill im, Jerre!”

There was a scream of horror across the channel as the ship executed another difficult twist, getting the warpigeon in the Delight’s line of fire. A single trigger press, and the last Mando pigeon was down.

The Delight flew out of the rings like a Mon Cala dolphin leaping out of the surf.

“Now that was fun!” Jerre declared.

Juunie giggled, punching the air. “What a f*cking rush! I’d like to blow up Mandos more often!”

“You relly want to? We should have ‘nough for a ship. One tha’ can really blow up Mandos, Imps, and Pirates.”

“Yeah! Yeah, ah think it’s time. You ready for the jump through the Oriole’s tunnel?”

“You betcha! Coordinates… set. Locked.”

“Punch it!”

The stars turned into a field as the Delight jumped into hyperspace, leaving the Fire Rings behind as if nothing had happened.

*

Chapter 14: Champion of the Pilgrims

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

3 ATC,
Tython

Devel Nirol sighed when he saw the extra reading Jasme had slipped into his datacard pile. A few discourses on battlefield awareness by Masters such as Thon and Nomi Sunrider.

“You do need it,” the tall girl said brightly. “Pardon me for saying so, but I think you’re going to be a Master someday. And Masters cannot avoid fighting. Especially in this day and age. It might be the difference between victory and defeat, next time. Life and death.”

Devel sighed again. “All is as the Force wills it.”

Some might call the girl’s answering grin insolent, but Devel knew it was just her charm. “And the Force wills that you have an Archivist who slips you what you need alongside what you want.”

The Nautolan had to laugh at that. “I concede your point, Archivist. I will expand my focus.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jasme beamed. She bowed and left, humming softly all the while.

Devel decided to start off with the material she’d given him. It was what he was least familiar with, and she’d had a very valid point; the war had come home to the Jedi Temple that day. There was no guarantee that it wouldn’t a second time, even if he spent his life cloistered. As much as he hated war, he needed to be able to hold his own. To defend innocents. And the Order.

He was just finishing up the first round of lectures when his comm started to chime. It was his Master, summoning him to her chamber.

*

Master Yuon’s Quarters

“… there isn’t,” Master Yuon was saying. “It’s out of my hands now, Qyzen.”

Qyzen was her friend. The Trandoshan hunter she had called in a month ago to track the Flesh Raiders who had stolen Rajivari’s hologram.

<‘Out of my hands,’ ‘Can do nothing.’ From you, is strange to hear.>

“I haven’t… ah, Padawan, come in! Qyzen just arrived with news.”

“The good kind?” Devel asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately not,” his Master shook her head. “He found the Flesh Raiders who made off with the hologram. They were all killed. By arrows and spears, of the sort the Kalikori use. There was some interesting plunder in their stores, but not the hologram we were looking for.”

“Perhaps the Kalikori have it then?” Devel suggested.

“Yes. Unfortunately, relations between the Pilgrims and the Temple continue to deteriorate. This world is more dangerous than they thought it would be, and neither their stores nor their foraging and hunting parties are sufficient. And that’s not even talking about the Flesh Raiders or the other dangerous beasts of this world. Every day, the Twi’leks petition for everything from food, medicine, and protection. They almost demand it of us.”

“And the Council refuses?”

“Not that they have any choice. Even if they were willing to disregard the Senate’s decree—which they are, to be completely honest—our own supplies remain meager at the moment. Every week, we receive just enough to sustain ourselves.”

<Is not much food to spare in the galaxy,> Qyzen shrugged. <Most military bases receive their rations weekly. And very carefully calculated. Is not strange or suspicious.>

“Yes. The situation is projected to improve in a year’s time. Hopefully, the Pilgrims’ farms will have become productive by then, too. For now, your task is simple. Qyzen’s hunt did not end at the village. He was able to follow the path of a Twi’lek, which led into Flesh Raider territory.”

“What makes this significant?”

Master Yuon looked at him carefully. “Well for starters, the infiltration was not a quiet one. Several of Flesh Raiders have been slain. It is not a feat any of the Kalikori can manage alone. Qyzen will take you to the bodies. You will take a good look at them, then note down your conclusions. Go to the cave that this Twi’lek has chosen to hide in, and see if they can be persuaded to give up the hologram. If they won’t, come back to me. We will discuss how best to handle this. Qyzen will remain behind to keep an eye on them.”

“Of course, Master. Qyzen?”

<Follow me. Hope Devel Nirol has not eaten his lunch>

*

About an hour later

Devel Nirol examined each corpse in turn.

Three had been slain by arrows. Two by throwing spears. One, by a dagger in the eye.

But the rest…? Ten dead bodies. One of them had had their throat crushed, as if by a giant hand! Except… the Flesh Raiders not only had sturdy hides, their bodies were armored by a thick layer of flesh, as their names suggested. Even a Wookiee or a Gamorrean or a Trandoshan might not be able to crush their throats like this.

Two more had their heads caved in by large rocks, most of which were a third as heavy as Devel himself was. And yet they were definitely thrown at the natives, rather than dropped. And at quite a speed too.

“Hmmm.”

Dreading the inevitable conclusion, he thought about the final one. Though killed by spear thrusts, this one was also covered in burns; and almost all of them from the front. Like they’d faced some kind of weak flamethrower.

Or a beginner’s Force Lightning.

“I do not like this,” Devel said to himself. “It appears our Pilgrim has made good use of the hologram. Learned some of what it had to teach. How long did you say he’s been in possession of it?”

<A week, no more. He learns quickly.>

“Too quickly. At this rate, the Dark Side will destroy his mind. I cannot predict how long we have, unfortunately.”

<Is no matter. We move forward. Eyes on the prey, not the campfire>

“I’m sorry, Qyzen. But I cannot bring myself to view sentient beings as prey.”

<As you say>

Devel wondered how Master Yuon could have befriended a being who so unabashedly and enthusiastically talked about collecting Wookiee pelts. But at her behest, he would be civil.

*

A nearby Flesh Raider village

Devel approached the cave entrance with caution. Most of the natives had taken to hiding in the face of the death this Twi’lek had brought with him, so the Nautolan did not face any opposition. He was grateful for that. He hadn’t taken a life yet, and he didn’t wish to start now. A fight with the Flesh Raiders might be inevitable, but he had no wish to be the first to cast a stone.

<Something is wrong here> Qyzen whispered. <Earth has been shifted. Something has been buried. Recently.>

At the end of the cavern, they discovered a few crates stacked together. The hologram sat on top of it.

“Something about this is highly suspicious.” Devel picked up the hologram and checked that it was alright.

<Look out!>

Qyzen pulled Devel aside, barely saving him from an arrow. Devel was proud that he didn’t drop the hologram.

“Well… I was expecting the Flesh Raiders, but a Jedi is almost as good a prize.”

Devel turned to find a Twi’lek hiding behind a column well-hidden from people entering the cave. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“My name is Nalen Raloch. I come to listen. I come to think among the dead, and fight for my people. And why has a cowardly Jedi sallied forth so far from his fortress?”

“I came seeking this hologram. It belongs to a Dark Jedi. The first of the Dark Jedi. They bear… dangerous teachings. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. It has been most enlightening.”

“So all those dead Flesh Raiders were your work!”

“Their kind attack my people on a daily basis. Do you honestly care when we fight back?”

“What concerns me—us—are Rajivari’s teachings. They lead you down the path of domination and destruction. Of carnage and doom.”

“That suits me just fine. For I want to dominate and destroy. To bring doom and carnage upon my people’s assailants.”

“See reason, Mister Raloch! The Dark Side is dangerous! It will—”

“Typical Jedi dogmatism,” Nalen Raloch sneered. “The Jedi condemn what they can’t control. The Dark Side is a weapon, like this spear. And like the crates of Flesh Raider alcohol I’ve buried all over this place. It’s quite potent. If I can’t have the beasts, then you will have to do!”

“Why would you bury—” Devel began, but Nalen ran out, followed shortly by Qyzen, whose arm snagged itself around Devel’s. “OUCH! OUCHOUCHOUCHOUCHOUCHOUCHOUCH!” Devel screamed.

It took him a moment to realize that Nalen had fired a few weak sparks at a rock. The Nautolan was almost blinded by a fiery explosion. He felt more than saw the outside air touch his skin as Qyzen gathered him up in his arms and dived out of the cave. There were a few loud crashes behind them as they rolled forward. The earth shook from some tremendous impact. Devel opened his eyes to find that the cave entrance had been sealed by a cascade of rocks. Smoke emerged from tiny gaps.

<The Twi’lek wanted to trap us in cave,> Qyzen muttered. <Leave us to die of suffocation>

“I could have gotten us out of that quite easily,” Devel nursed his hand. He didn’t think anything was broken, but he wanted to get his shoulder checked, just in case. “Were there any Flesh Raiders left within?”

<I saw none. The Twi’lek escaped.>

“We will find him later. We’ve reclaimed our main objective.” Devel held up the holoprojector. “We should report back to Master Yuon.”

*

Back at the Temple

Yuon was waiting for the duo at the Temple doors. “Welcome back, Padawan. Qyzen informed me of the Twi’lek’s trap. The cave-in. But you were able to acquire the holoprojector?”

“I did, Master.”

“Good. Let us check that it is safe.

Devel handed it over. “About the bodies. You knew, didn’t you? The Pilgrim was only able to slay so many because of the Force. The Dark Side.”

Master Yuon sighed sadly. “I suspected, but did not want to believe. In so short a time, too!”

“He said his name was Nalen Raloch.”

“I know that name. He is a hero among the Kalikori. Their greatest warrior. Their guardian. Their champion. He has protected them many a time since Ryloth. He fought in the Twi’leki militia, so he’s very experienced in fighting bandits, raiders, and even armies. His presence once made the difference between survival and annihilation, on their first day. His fellow villagers have since adapted somewhat better to their harsh new homes, but he still carries the burden of their defense.”

“And now, he follows the path laid out by Master Rajivari.”

“Then let us see what he saw.”

Upon activation, the holoprojector began the familiar protocol.

Master Rajivari was an ageing human male with pale skin. His eyes, surprisingly, were dark. Perhaps he hadn’t been so far gone, when he’d made this holoprojector. Or perhaps he was hiding it.

“Activation protocol begins,” he said. “A few words. Shall this be all my legacy? No. My enemies are long dead. It is time. Hear me. I have left true wisdom behind. For those who follow where the first blade points. From the sanctuary of the order. All else is fleeting—”

Master Yuon shut it down before it could continue. “My word,” she said, rubbing her temples. “‘True wisdom?’ He… he’s talking about the Fount of Rajivari! After Rajivari fell, sources claimed he created a great archive of his knowledge and teachings. Generations of Jedi searched, but found nothing. You just heard proof.”

“Like a chamber of his secrets?”

“His most treasured ones, yes.”

“Perhaps we should hear more,” Devel suggested. “The Fount of Rajivari was… I’m sorry, Master, but it wasn’t the most important and alarming thing he implied.”

“You’re right, of course.” Yuon resumed playback.

“We Founders discussed our visions for the Jedi Order. And I, Rajivari, listened. I listened as they carefully crippled our newborn order. As they argued for mediocrity. It shall not stand. I have laid my plans. With my army made of Tython’s true sons, I shall purge this council of fools while they chatter. Only my Apprentices and I will survive. From Keleth, we will mold the Jedi into what we deserve to be. If the Hilt of the First Blade is returned, then we have succeeded. The future follows the path we left. Follow, Seeker. Follow the path to the Fount. It is time.”

There was a large string of data that followed.

“He said it,” Master Yuon whispered, shaken. “He said it out loud. His declaration of war. This was the beginning of the Dark Jedi. And later, the Sith. The gong that he struck that day, continues to resound into the present, and likely into the future too. And it only seems to grow louder and more chaotic thanks to acoustics.”

“What do we do? He mentions the First Blade and Keleth—”

“Yes. You should start there. It is many kilometers off, well beyond the safe boundaries we’ve established. Go at once, before Nalen can—”

<No> Qyzen growled. <Small hunter cannot continue the chase while it is wounded.>

Yuon blinked. “I’m sorry?”

<Small hunter needs shoulder checked. See how it holds it? Seek out healers at once. Shall scout this Keleth first>

Yuon nodded, still looking surprised. “Of course. Health comes first. Go to the infirmary, Padawan.”

*

Nalen Raloch shouted at the top of his lungs, releasing several powerful Shockwaves to vent his frustration, not caring the toll on his stamina. Several of the nearest trees fell over, while the ones beyond were emptied of birds and beasts.

“WHERE IS IT!” he screamed. “WHERE IS THAT DAMNED FOUNT!? AM I SUPPOSED TO LOOK BENEATH EVERY ROCK AND TREE? EXPLORE EVERY SINGLE CAVE AND DIVE BENEATH THE RIVERS? WHAT IS KELETH?! WHAT IS THE DAMNED FIRST BLADE?”

He did not know. He knew nothing! That stupid holoprojector was good for a few basic lessons, but it had refused to give him anything beyond vague clues in search of the true prize. He didn’t have time for a damned scavenger hunt! His people were dying!

One final Shockwave later, he fell on the floor, exhausted. He had seen Sith and Jedi do this sort of thing all day long, but he could only manage short bursts. He couldn’t bring extinction to the Flesh Raiders like this, let alone the Jedi! Killing ten beasts was nearly too much for him! My people are dying, he thought again…

Nalen considered. Hmmm. His people. Perhaps they could help him. That Jedi would undoubtedly start searching for the Fount as well. And unlike Nalen, he had access to the knowledge required to follow the hologram’s clue. And beyond. If his people could spy on the Jedi—or better, his Trandoshan thug—they might be able to swoop in and coax the location out of them.

Yes, that would be his best bet. It pained him to involve his fellow villagers, especially so far away from the relative safety of their village, but he had no choice. This was the only way to save them, in the end.

“A warrior must know how to sacrifice his subordinates, servants, and even loved ones,” Rajivari had said. “Especially since their righteous fury will make the revenge all the easier. Always wager on your passions.”

And that’s exactly what Nalen would do, distasteful though it was. He would use his followers to help him claim the Fount, then he would begin a bloody conquest of this world, and after that—!

He straightened all of a sudden, deep in worried thought.

Bloody conquest? Why is it I want a conquest? All I want is my people’s safety, but—

FOOL, a voice answered in his head. THERE IS NO SUCH THING. IT IS A FALSE PROMISE. THE FLESH RAIDERS WILL ALWAYS COME BACK. THE JEDI WILL ALWAYS GET IN THE WAY. ONCE YOUR PEOPLE PROVE THEY CAN LIVE HERE UNAIDED, THE REPUBLIC MIGHT CHOOSE TO FORCE THEM OFF TO HIDE THEIR EMBARRASSMENT. THE ONLY WAY TO TRULY PROTECT, IS TO TAKE OVER. FIRST THE FLESH RAIDERS, THEN THE JEDI.

THEN THE GALAXY.

*

A Week Later

Nalen entered the cavern the Trandoshan was currently exploring. It had taken more time to get there than he’d hoped. The Flesh Raiders had launched an attack on his village, killing Orache and Kastor.

For a wonder, Azantel was right, he thought. The lizard is just where she said he’d be.

It straightened up as he confidently walked up to it. He waved a hand, using the Force to change what the brute was seeing and hearing. “Put that weapon away.”

<Ahh. Yuon. Apologies. I mistook you for the enemies.>

Yuon? Who or what was she? A mate? No, the name wasn’t Trandoshan.

“I came to check your progress. We’re running out of time.”

<Of course>

“We need a full review. Tell me everything you’ve found so far.”

<Is memory failing again? Very well. After much search, we found coordinates to Rajivari’s Fount. You sent me here to gather third coordinate.>

“Which is the last coordinate?”

<Yes.>

“At last! Give it to me. Good work. I’ll take it from here.”

<What about the small hunter?>

The small hunter? The Nautolan Padawan? He exerted his full will on the alien, as Rajivari had shown. “You should wait here for him. He will be here shortly.”

<I should wait here for him. He will be here shortly>

Noticing a crude Flesh Raider cage nearby, Nalen led the Trandoshan into it. “Here, I have a nice little room prepared for you. A good place for you while you wait.”

<Is a comfortable place> the thing agreed.

*

When Devel arrived, the Trandoshan hunter had been missing for nearly two hours. He hoped he was alright.

Tracking him was easy, since his tracker was on. The Trandoshan was sitting contentedly in a cage in a large cavern, praying to his Scorekeeper. Devel was astonished. He knew a Charmed person when he saw one. Was this already something Nalen could do? It took ages to do so properly! His growth rate was phenomenal.

That hologram must be a lot closer to modern Holocrons than I’d thought! I need to warn Yuon afterwards.

“Qyzen. Qyzen!” Devel released him from his spell, making him jump with a start.

<What? Where am I> He seemed to comprehend the crude bars of the cage. <What happened to me? Was talking to Yuon! Smelled strange, but she told me to wait for small hunter! Now I am in cage?>

“I imagine Nalen clouded your mind.” It had to be Nalen. There were no other suspects here on Tython. “You seemed completely befuddled.”

<Truly? Truly!> Qyzen refocused on the bars and smashed a fist against them. They were sturdier than their shoddy construction made them look. They were likely meant for Flesh Raiders after all. <Is not possible!> the Trandoshan cried. <Why must such infamy befall me? Is the worst thing that could have happened! I was captured Alive by the enemy! Tossed in cage like prey!>

“Qyzen?”

<Do not understand, little hunter? All my points are forfeit! Without score, Scorekeeper turns face away!> The reptilian being looked like he would’ve wept, had he had tear glands. <Am nothing now! My life’s work… gone!>

“I’m sorry, Qyzen. But we will mourn later. Try to find a way for you to atone.”

<Atone? Is no such thing for the Scorekeeper.>

“Then start over. For now, we need to stop Nalen.”

<Is too late. Gave enemy—when he wore face of Yuon—the coordinates. Will know where the Fount is.>

“Let him find it. There’s still the matter of the gauntlet he has to endure. The gauntlet I found tales of in Keleth.”

<Gauntlet? Traps? I see. Rajivari’s wisdom was not for fools. A man who cannot even do his own hunt is great fool> He took a deep breath. <I will accompany small hunter. To guide. And see Nalen Raloch slain.>

*

The Fount of Rajivari

Nalen’s steps into the swirling shadows were tentative. “Hello?” he called out without meaning to. His voice was high-pitched and reedy.

But the place was near empty. Deserted but for a few statues in the shifting green mists.

It was only when he reached what looked like a gaunt statue that he was challenged.

It raised its hollow eyes. “No further, Seeker,” it said. “You come here, unpurified. It is an insult to Master Rajivari. His apprentices were flawed. But they walked the fire, and were reborn. Only a personal sacrifice will show your strength and resolve, seeker. Will you be purified in flame?”

“Are you joking?” Nalen demanded, his nerves fleeing like Flesh Raiders before a child of the Force. “I am here to defend my people! In their memory, I will endure anything! I am not afraid of your flame and your purifications!”

The sentry seemed to smile. “But you will be. Well done.”

And Nalen was engulfed in fire, but of a different sort. “HYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” he screamed, as blazing flames burst out of his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. And his other… orifices too. It was a thousand times as painful as it was humiliating. Soon, his entire body was aflame, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of his mind on fire.

What in blazes is this? he thought. Is this even fire? Is this what the Force can do?

Every memory was charring away, consumed by hungry red fire. Thick smoke and ash covered everything until he was starting to forget who or what he was.

Then he saw Arisha. She was standing with her children, cooking up a simple dinner for them as they watched the sunset. The burning sunset… the trees and even the skies turning to cinders… “NO!” he screamed with his dry throat. He couldn’t let that burn as well!

Not Arisha!

I am Nalen Raloch! I am the defender of the Kalikori! I have taken up… Fount of Rajivari… but… to kill… what? Who? Who are the Kalikori? Whom must I kill? Must I kill the Kalikori? And why do I hate these… Jedi?

Another memory came back. Arisha and her children on the floor. Dead? Were the Kalikori the ones who killed her? He couldn’t remember! Who was Arisha? He couldn’t remember!

Kill… he thought. Need… I need the Fount of Rajivari…

Eventually, the flames died.

“You’re still alive,” the sentry said with amusem*nt. “You have been purified. You may pass.”

In the next room, he stumbled upon a small Nautolan. A child?

“Help!” it cried in a pitiful voice.

“Out of my way!” Nalen growled. He stumbled past the alien without a second thought.

The child giggled and turned into smog. “Foolish, to turn your back on a living enemy. Almost as bad as sparing them.”

Nalen whipped around, spear at the ready. But the child wasn’t there. Instead, he was hit by another attack, this one like crushed glass at his feet, stabbing right through the soles of his heavy shoes. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” he screamed, falling to his hands and knees. But those started to smart as well. “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” He fell on his shoulders and flank, only to be met with yet more excruciating pain.

Kill me! he thought. Please! I can’t stand such pain!

Then the thought came again. Arisha. The dead children. The Kalikori. He sought his rage again. It came naturally. He painfully got back on his hands and knees and crawled to the door, hissing and screaming all the way.

It was yet another trial, followed by another, and another. Each one forced him to endure more pain.

*

When he crossed the threshold, some of his memories came back to him. Enough for him to recognize the insubstantial being floating before him.

“Hello, seeker. Welcome to the Fount of Rajivari. I had to say, I was expecting someone sooner. I have grown quite weary.”

“Give me everything,” Nalen growled. “NOW!”

Rajivari’s shade chuckled. “Just like that? No. Force will be met by force. You want to take my knowledge, you must first take me on. You want this done easily, you must—what is the matter?”

Nalen had started to tremble and seethe. “YOU DARE ACT LIKE I’M A SIMPLE PASSERBY? I PASSED YOUR STUPID TRIAL! THE HORRORS I ENDURED—”

“You weren’t supposed to endure them, Seeker. You made the wrong choices both times. You were supposed to avoid any damage whatsoever.”

“What!?!”

“Think about it. What’s the point of a trap? To protect the treasure from those who do not understand it. Not to keep the worthy away. Had you followed my teachings, you wouldn’t have been hurt at all.”

“I… You…”

“This is my final work.” The ghost spread his hands. At all the machines surrounding them. “In my laboratory, I refined these devices. They can provide one, chosen apprentice decades of experiences. Do you want my wisdom?”

“Yes,” Nalen growled.

“Then you should’ve prepared better. You know nothing of my ways. You are an unworthy apprentice.”

“TRY AND STOP ME!” Nalen roared. He dived at the devices as the ghost sighed and shook his head. He hit the only live button on the console and leapt into the glass capsule attached to the apparatus.

“Fool,” Rajivari chuckled. There was no pain this time. Instead, Nalen’s body was inundated by outrage and hatred that was not his own.

*

The ghost of Rajivari sat waiting sadly. Yes, waiting. For though his precious Fount had been usurped, he still had something he could pass on.

“Of course, here is the other,” he said in welcome to the second alien lifeform. “Seekers of knowledge always have their pursuers.”

This one was small, and its flesh was weak. But its strength and spirit were astonishingly powerful. And it had taken no damage whatsoever from the many traps.

“You are… you are more than just an interactive program, aren’t you? I can Sense your power. It is great. Or was, once. It is spent, now.”

“If you came for Nalen Raloch, he has been and gone. So much is fleeting. Yet I remain as I was. Rajivari. When my body failed me, I refused to become one with the Force. How could I? The Jedi were still imperfect. Here, in my laboratory, I refined certain devices. I can give one chosen apprentice decades of experience in a day. An apprentice worthy to carry on my vision. I have waited for new acolytes. When he arrived at the gates, I believed Nalen Raloch was a suitable candidate. But… disappointment. Nalen triggered every trap, instead of solving them. He thought pain was the price for greatness. The experience nearly broke him. You at least, were prepared for the trials. Nalen was not.”

“He was given too much, too fast. He was living an ordinary life a mere two months ago, but he now hurls boulders and Lightning. He used a very clever mind trick on my ally. It was too much.”

“And the wisdom he demanded of me was even harder. I miscalculated. The traps were supposed to weed out the unworthy. I did not think anyone could survive all of them. He has inner strength. But nothing else. Worse, it is gone, now. The moment he emerged from my devices—” Rajivari pointed at the broken crystal case, “—he began screaming that he would kill the Kalikori and the Jedi. I have not created a successor, but a monster.”

“The Kalikori? Why would he want to kill the Kalikori—”

“It is like I said. He went mad. His memories were torn apart. Those that survived the purge were crudely stitched back together. He has them confused as the perpetrators of a great crime. I would not care, but his next target is the Jedi Order.”

“One madman cannot destroy the Jedi.”

“True, but this madman is my responsibility. If I’d made the failsafes stronger, Nalen would never have been able to claim the Fount. It would’ve been you.”

“I am not one of your ‘True sons.’ I am a Jedi. I stand for peace, truth, and knowledge.”

Rajivari threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Like the very Council I sought to cleanse. And failed to.”

“This is what the Force wills. You have lingered long enough. And after all that waiting, all you have wrought is Nalen Raloch.”

That killed Rajivari’s mirth at once. “Yes. I… yes. I know not what to do now.”

“Let the Force claim you. Your time is done. It is no longer your burden to determine what path the Jedi Order should follow.”

“I… I suppose this is true. I have wasted not just my life, but my afterlife as well.” Rajivari sighed. “Do you know how many years it’s been, since…?”

“Over twenty thousand years.”

The revelation shattered him. “All that time. And this was all that I achieved.”

“It’s not too late. It never is. Pass on. Leave the matters of this realm behind.”

“Yes. I suppose I must. Farewell, seeker. I hope the Jedi achieve perfection without me.”

Rajivari accepted the embrace he’d been denying for far too long. Avoiding it had been painful. In accepting it, he felt much that he had lost return to him.

*

Devel Nirol piloted his speeder straight towards the Kalikori village. He was glad he’d not dallied. Nalen Raloch had learned how to use the Force to amplify his speed, and was standing atop a cliff with a good view of the village.

“Ah, here he comes at last!” Nalen roared in a strained voice. “Another Jedi to nod, and preach, and do nothing while children across the galaxy suffer and die! I know Rajivari’s secrets! They’re mine now!”

“And you’re using it to attack your own people?”

“I must!” Nalen screeched. “They killed… they killed… THEY KILLED…!”

“I think you need to listen to me,” Devel said calmingly. “Do you remember the Gauntlet? It mixed up your memories. You are not remembering things clearly right now—”

“SHUT UP!” Nalen roared. “JEDI LIE, THEY ALWAYS LIE! YOU LOOK UPON GREATNESS, AND YOU SEEK TO CONTAIN IT! TO LOCK IT AWAY!”

“That greatness is about to kill thousands of innocent villagers. Including children. Every one of them calls you their champion. Their stalwart guardian!”

“They… they do?” That sounded… that actually sounded accurate to Nalen. He recalled a few faces that weren’t Arisha and the others. Faces that looked upon him with adoration and respect. “NO! MORE JEDI TRICKS!”

“It is not a trick. The Dark Side was twisting you. The traps did worse. And the Fount has left you with power to act on—”

“ENOUGH! I DON’T HAVE TO HEAR YOUR DRIVEL! DIE!”

Devel did not know what to expect from this fight. With a start, he realized it was his first. “Qyzen, stay behind me!”

Nalen attacked with the Force first. He Pushed hard, attempting to knock the Jedi off his feet. When that failed, he hurled rocks. Then Lightning. He mixed it up next, throwing a combination of the attacks as if hoping it would wear him down.

But Devel’s Force Shield was one of the strongest in the Jedi order. Though he was locked down while on the defense, he was able to halt everything Nalen threw his way.

“WHY AREN’T YOU GOING DOWN?!” Nalen screamed. “WHY ARE MY POWERS SO WEAK!?!”

It seems borrowed experience cannot improve one’s vessel that much, Devel thought. Nor did the martial experience carry over. And he now bears a wounded spirit.

“Fine, then let’s do this the fun way!” Nalen declared, drawing his spear instead.

Devel hesitated. He was not a good swordsman by any stretch of the imagination. He continued to hold up his Force Bubble, warding off any attacks from the crazed Twi’lek’s weapon.

“DAMMIT!” the spear had shattered, as it hadn’t been designed with a Force user in mind. Nalen began slamming his fists against the bubble.

“Are you alright?” Devel asked with concern. “You’re not seriously thinking of breaking my shield with your bare fists, are you?” He wasn’t even enhancing them! He was smashing them into a bloody pulp.

“FACE ME!” Nalen roared. “FACE ME LIKE A MAN, COWARD! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU, THEN I’LL KILL THE KALIKORI! I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! I’LL—”

“What’s going on here?” Several dozen Pilgrims had arrived, drawn, no doubt, by all the ruckus.

“KALIKORI!” Nalen shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

He switched targets, but Devel caught him in a viselike Stasis Field. To his surprise, the Pilgrim managed to break out of it, and continued on to his comrades. “STOP!” he cried. He threw rocks at his enemy’s legs, which knocked him to the ground.

As he rose, he was tackled by Qyzen, who began raining blows down on the Twi’lek.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL HIM!” a Twi’lek cried, running up to stop the Trandoshan. “DON’T!”

“HRRRRRGH!” Nalen roared. He had protected himself to a degree from fist and talon, and Pushed Qyzen off him. He turned and jumped at the Twi’lek who had run forward.

“NOOOO!” Devel cried.

But Nalen had stopped dead in his tracks, his trembling fist a mere inch from the other’s face. “Arisha?” he asked. “But you… you died! They killed you! I saw you on the ground!”

“What?” the woman called Arisha asked.

“He’s confused,” Devel explained. “He… he was lured by an artifact left behind by… by a Dark Jedi. It tricked him into pledging himself to the Dark Side. It messed with his mind. His memories are confused.”

“Cousin, we’re all fine,” Arisha told him. “Jekob, Guri, Carina, and me. My husband is too. Carina’s getting married tomorrow. That day… you’re probably remembering the evening of a festival. We often just collapsed into a pile. Nothing bad.”

“You were never dead?”

The other villagers were starting to gather around him.

Devel spoke up. “Nalen, don’t you see? This is why we Jedi swear ourselves to the Light. And try to stop the Dark Side and its agents wherever they crop up. Like the Sith. Like Rajavari and his acolytes. And now, you.”

Many pairs of eyes looked over at him, a mix of horror and outrage on their face.

“You were about to destroy the Kalikori village,” Devel explained patiently.

Moments later, everyone began to shout at once. Qyzen took up a defensive stance in front of him.

“You don’t get to say that!” a male Twi’lek said angrily. “Don’t you have any idea what this man has done for us?”

“I do, actually. And I know where it left him. I will say it again; he was this close to destroying you. And he’s still confused and unstable. A slight push is all it will take. Ryloth was attacked by Sith during the war, wasn’t it? Many times? Darth Azamin. Darth Gravus. Darth Perilus. Darth Angral. Darth Malgus. Darth Bellicose. The Dark Side has seeped into your soul, Nalen. You learned too recklessly. Sought to grow too fast. You know that I speak truth, don’t you?”

“I do,” Nalen said in a shaky voice. It contained more than seven smidgens of fury. “I ache to burn them. To burn the Flesh Raiders. To burn the Jedi Temple. To burn everything!” He gasped and shook. “How has this happened? Why did I allow it?”

“It matters not. You need to be Healed now. In the confines of the Temple, we Jedi can stop you from acting out your dark impulses. And we can Heal and Soothe the damage done by the Dark Side. It will be a long and arduous road, but recovery is possible. Think about it, Nalen. You have not yet done anything from which there is no return. No crime you need repent.”

“It sounds like a prison!” Arisha cried.

“There are many kinds of prisons. The one Nalen has now found himself in, he will carry wherever he goes.”

All Twi’leks looked at their champion. He hoped they could see it. The torment on his face.

Devel raised a hand. “Come, Nalen.”

Slowly, Nalen stood. “I go with the Jedi. I will… I will… I don’t know what will happen. But this was not a path I should’ve walked.”

“But you’re our greatest protector!” one of the villagers cried. “What will we do without you?”

“Stand up for yourselves,” Nalen replied exhaustedly. “You can do it. All you have to do is look out for each other. You don’t need a champion if everyone grows strong.”

He did not look back at the dismayed Twi’leks as Devel led him and Qyzen to the speeder.

*

Back at the Jedi Temple

Masters Syo and Kaedan were waiting when they got back.

“Ah, there you are at last!” the former said. “We were beginning to worry.”

“You’ve already met Master Syo and I,” Master Kaedan said. “Have you spoken to the Grand Master yet? I recall you both missed each other, the few times you came here.”

The woman standing at the far side of the room stood and bowed. “Greetings, Devel. I am Satele Shan. Recent addition to this Council. Your grades and wisdom are both remarkable for someone your age.”

“Thank you, Masters. I have completed my mission. I bring you Nalen Raloch. He needs assistance after being taken over by… well, it’s a long story.”

“Enough,” Master Yuon said impatiently. “If you have Nalen, did you reach the Fount as well? Is it intact?”

“Most of the machines are,” Devel nodded. “But the true essence of the Fount is gone. Rajivari’s instruments that allowed him a one-time bestowal of his wisdom to one student. And Rajivari himself. His spirit, which had lingered there for twenty thousand years.”

“Remarkable!” Master Yuon blurted out. “To think that you… this is extraordinary!”

“So it seems you were right, after all,” Master Kaedan said, sounding surprised and a little awed. “I apologize to you, and your Padawan.”

“We wanted to go ahead with your Trials as planned,” Master Syo explained. “But Yuon said that the Force had something special in mind for you.”

“But your mission is over now. I will take care of your friend,” Master Satele said.

“I can do that myself, Master. I am a Healer, after all.”

“And you are also ready to accept your place as a Jedi,” Master Syo said, looking at Yuon. “Yuon. If you would.”

His Master stood before him, pulling out a ceremonial sword as the Masters drew their blades and held them in salute. An awestruck Devel went down on one knee.

“Devel Nirol. By my right as your Master and by the will of the Force, before this Council, I take from you the title of Padawan. I name you a full Jedi of our Order. Honor the past. Work… for the future. May the Force always be with you. You’ve done so well, my student—”

With every word she spoke, her voice had grown softer and softer until she had collapsed, It was only Master Kaedan’s reflexes that allowed him to catch her with the Force before her head hit the ground.

“Yuon!” Master Syo cried. “Yuon, can you hear me!?”

*

Kaedan paced restlessly as he waited for his colleague to return. Satele, as usual, sat patiently in her seat. An outsider might condemn her for not being upset at all by Yuon’s incident. But that equilibrium was the result of the many years of training she had undergone to become the Jedi Order’s most exalted Master. She was serenity personified, unless the outside stimulus was great. Didn’t mean she wasn’t worried.

He was about to go to the Medbay when Syo Bakarn returned. “Devel is looking after his former Master. She is ill, but resting. Her friend, the Trandoshan… well, he said she’d been fighting the illness for months now. She held on so she could complete her Padawan’s training. Her condition is grave.”

“My word… to think she hid such a thing from us. Is Devel able to heal her?”

“No. And…”

“Yes?” Satele asked.

“Well, Devel said he wished to take over Nalen’s healing. But I recommend we put him on Yuon instead. I don’t know what it is that ails her. I’m no Healer myself, but none of our Medical Staff have seen anything quite like it. It might even be a new disease. And Devel has a talent for Healing that even got him a nod from Malgus.”

“I agree,” Satele said. “Send her to Coruscant. The medical records there are much more complete. And access to medicines and additional experts is much readier too. With such a bad prognosis, she’ll need all the help she can get. I’ll seek out with Nalen myself.”

“We also need to discuss Qyzen himself. He wishes to remain with Devel. Not Yuon; Devel. He wishes to become his bodyguard.”

“What has Devel said?”

“His focus is on his Master.”

“Well, Devel is only an okay fighter,” Kaedan shrugged. “And only because of his strength in the Force. I think it’s good if he has a proven fighter watching his back. Even one such as Qyzen Fess.”

“I’ll approve it, if that’s what you really think,” Satele said. “Since I have no insights on the matter.”

“Excuse me,” Syo said. “If Yuon needs to go to Coruscant, sooner is better.”

“Same with Nalen. Council is adjourned.”

*

Nalen was placed in a room akin to a cell, which didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him, was that the cell was meant to be temporary. The very evening of his arrival, he was led to a different room. An isolated one, but with access to the garden. He could hear the birds outside.

A beautiful middle-aged woman was waiting there for him. “Ah. Nalen Raloch. It is good to see you again.”

“Grand Master Satele. Kind of you to say so, despite what I said. And what I did.”

“That is all in the past now. Holding onto grudges is dangerous.”

“As I’ve found, to my detriment.”

“Hmm. Come. Sit.”

Nalen complied. “Where is the Jedi who stopped me?”

“We sent him to Coruscant. There’s someone there whose life hangs in the balance. We hope he can Heal her.”

“Very noble.”

“I’m sorry. But if it’s any consolation, you can have my help instead. At the start, at least.”

“You?”

“Me. For now, I have little on my hands outside of Council meetings. And while I can’t promise to be here throughout, I can say this; the first steps are the hardest. The trickiest. Hence the shock collar.”

“I understand. And thank you for trying at all. Most would’ve left me in that cell. You’ve given me this room. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“Mental scars cannot heal in dark, dingy boxes. You need open air, windows, sunlight, the sounds of nature. The smell of flowers. It will be easier here.”

“Again. Thank you.”

“Before I go, there’s a question I want to leave you with. One you needn’t answer until your Healing is complete.” She looked at him with her piercing blue gaze. “You have shown remarkable potential in the Force. Once you get stronger, we can teach you to control it.”

“I… I think I’ll need to return to the People eventually.”

“It’s something you should think about. Don’t decide right away. Good luck, Nalen Raloch. I’ll be here at 08:00 tomorrow for our first session. A droid will take you to the mess, should you need food. Or the Archives. Oh, and this here is Ellie,” she said, introducing a small kitten sitting unobtrusively on the cupboard. “Consider her your new friend. We believe small pets are good for the soul. You’re good with cats, aren’t you?”

“I am. I’ll be good to her.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The Grand Master left him alone. He and the kitten stared at each other for a few moments. “My name is Nalen Raloch,” he said to the cat.

It blinked at him. It miaowed. It jumped onto his laps, demanding the rest of his day.

*

Chapter 15: Mark Fodorn

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

3 ATC,
Warehouse District, Nar Shaddaa

Ralph Corbin glanced up from his book as the door chime hummed.

“Come in,” he said, and Kosha’latyn came in with her customary wide smile.

“Good evening sir.” She looked him up and down admiringly. “I see the workout has been going well!”

“And the diet, too!” he chuckled, flexing his free hand. “Hard to believe, I was just skin and bones two months ago.”

“And you clean up real nice, too. All of you do.” She shook her head in amazement. “It’s weird how many people are out there, who might be serious contenders for beauty pageants if their luck hadn’t thrown them into the streets.”

“More like gutters.” He thought the assessment was exaggerated, but kind of true. Years of grime and dirt and unkempt hair, had left them looking like they’d crawled out of a drain. Which was also how they smelled, considering baths had been a luxury. As if to complete the picture, all manner of ticks had made their home in their hair or scales.

The recruiters had not been too bothered by this, though they had sent all prospects to a temp house where they could bathe, clean up, and find fresh clothes. Their life since entering the recruitment office gave him and his comrades the sense that their fortunes had finally turned.

Koshala smiled ruefully. “That’s where they found me, too. In the gutter.”

Ralph’s book fell to the floor, and he gaped at the amethyst-skinned Twi’lek. “Wait, you tried to apply?”

She nodded. “My constitution is a bit weak. The sort of problem medicine can’t solve yet. But they gave me other options as thanks for even coming ahead. I chose this life because I felt grateful.”

“What about others? What’s the pass rate like?”

“It’s about ninety-five percent,” she said thoughtfully. “Most people get through, except for those with rare bone, muscle, neurological, or immunological problems. As for the others… some took on jobs in the military proper. Others got jobs in fields that suited them. I know one man who became a teacher, and my brother Kirsa’antyn became a nurse.”

“Good to know I still have options if I fail the physical,” Ralph sighed with relief.

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Koshala asked. When he nodded, she went on. “The program takes great care of its subjects, you know. Good food and comfortable lodgings aren’t the only luxuries offered.”

“I know,” Ralph picked up his fallen book and waved it. “This… this was one of my requests. I haven’t been able to read since I was a little boy.”

“‘Economics for dummies,’ eh? What, you’re actually learning sh*t, not just reading novels? Nice!” she gave him an approving smile. She winked. “There’s other things too. For instance, you’ll be moved to a place near the Power Guard facility for your physical. I believe it’s in the red-light sector. They have an arrangement with the brothels there, so you’ll be able to book any hooker you fancy as you wait for your results. A lot of them aren’t just hot, they know how to keep you squealin all night. Trust me, I know.” A very lewd smile crossed her face, and she made a ‘Hrrrm’ sound and smacked her lips.

Ralph squirmed. “I’ve never… been with a woman before. Most women I’ve ever come across did this gagging noise whenever I walked past.”

“You’re different now, sunshine. You’re damn sexy.” She looked him over. “Too bad your physical is tomorrow. Means you need to stay relaxed today. But tomorrow… well, I’ll be moving with you guys to the hotel. To continue lookin after you. Maybe I can make you show you the ropes then!”

“Looking forward to it!”

“Eat the meal before it gets too cold.” He began eating as soon as she left, savoring the quiche he’d been served. Mmmmh! First bites still felt like heaven! The crust was well-baked. A little crunchy, but not too hard. It crumbled under your teeth, revealing the creamy goodness of beans, bacon, cheese, and corn underneath. He chewed for nearly two minutes before swallowing, when all semblance of taste had been leeched out of the food. He added a generous splash of Dantooine ranch sauce to the next bite, knowing that some connoisseur somewhere would be crying in pain from the affront to good taste. But he didn’t care; he liked the sweet and sour taste too much to not experiment with it.

Damn! This was so good! He felt a tear drop from his eye as he licked his fingers clean. He was eating by hand, as cutlery was a concept he had never become familiar with. His earliest memory was of his mother desperately putting him on a refugee ship which had no more room for adults. He’d have starved to death, if not for the Jedi who found him and entrusted him to a minder. He’d almost starve to death countless times over the next two decades. But there was always a kind soul who saved him at the last minute, even here on Nar Shaddaa.

Compared to that… Ralph felt like a king. He, along with the other test subjects, were given three delicious meals a day. Those with medical conditions—except for rare ones or those expensive to treat—were given their treatment. The employees spoke to them with tones brimming with respect and admiration, as if they were heroes.

This level of courtesy had evaded them for years.

Most of the people here were the lowest of refugees, people who had run from one besieged world to the next, from one crime-pocked slum to another, whose luck had been so utterly shattered due to the war, that things like regular meals and baths had become a high tier of luxury.

After finishing his food, Ralph washed up and lay back in his bed, putting his open book on his chest for now. He stared at the ceiling with a dazed smile on his face. All this… it was like all of his dreams had come true at once.

Including his second-most cherished one. The opportunity to kill the bastards who had torn him from his mother.

*

The next day

“Good morning, everyone! I am Dior Emming, and I am in charge of your tests. The first task is an obstacle course. The type we use for boot camps. The second is a standardized test. It will take the rest of the day. Don’t worry though, there will be plenty of breaks. We want you doing your best. Whatever happens today, know that I salute you. We salute you. Your bravery is an inspiration. Your service will keep our people safe.”

Ralph chuckled. Did all soldiers get a similar speech? Or similar treatment? Around him, the other refugees spoke among themselves, and he heard them repeat words like ‘brave’ and ‘respect’ and ‘honor.’

“Oi there, Ralph!” The voice of tall Jone Mkaabe boomed. “We finally here, eh?”

“Yes, we are!” Ralph smiled, and accepted the big man’s bone-creaking embrace. “What a thrill, right?”

“That’s right, lil hyume! We gonn be Powa Guard! Powa Guard! Powaaah!” He picked Ralph with ease and spun him a few times.

“Put him down, Jone, it’s my turn!” nineteen-year-old Sasta Roag said. She and Jone were both shattered from all the things they’d seen. Ralph had wondered if it was right letting them join. But the recruiters had assured him; they would get the help they needed. In fact, it had already started. They were receiving counselling every week, as was everyone else. Both were markedly better than where they’d started from. Now, as he saw Jone and Sasta spinning, dancing, laughing, he could almost see them as two people trying to reclaim bits of the childhood that was robbed from them. It made him happy, made him certain that joining the program had been the best choice of his life.

Several aides were going around, taking names and handing out name tags. A petite, chubby woman with long black hair stepped up to Ralph. Her smile was cursory at best, as if she had it plastered on her face at all times. Her eyes were intelligent but tired, as if sleep was something she vainly fought against.

“Good morning, Sir. I’m Mathalda Barker. May I have your name, age, and homeworld?”

“Ralph Corbin,” he answered at once. “I don’t know my age, but I believe I was a toddler when I was pressed onto a refugee shuttle. Battle of Ruuria.”

She clucked her tongue. “That means you were a refugee for most of your life?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m marking you as… thirty-one then.” She made a note.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your job with the project?”

“Hmmm? Oh, I’m with accounting.”

“Really?! You must be very good at math then!”

She was surprised by his enthusiasm. She gave a small smile. “My favorite subject. You interested in learning mathematics?”

He nodded furiously. “I never got the chance to study it until recently, of course. But I was at this refugee camp in Minos where a program by Doctor Garridel was going on. Where he talked about how math is used in every walk of life. I started seeing numbers everywhere after that. And when I started reading about it… To be honest… I find numbers sexy.”

She laughed incredulously. “You find numbers sexy?”

“Yes!”

“What about them?”

“They’re everywhere!” he said fervently. “And in all the best places. And number facts are so fun… like how 1 divided by 998,001 gives us—"

“—gives us all the digits from 000 to 999 in order, except for 998!”

“Right? Poor 998!”

“I had no idea I’d run into someone like myself over here,” she favored him with a much more friendly smile. “What do you say we talk about it after your physical?”

*

The first length of the course was a hundred-meter hurdle. The obstacles were not too challenging, but his muscles were burning by the time he had climbed the first rope ladder. The bridge was harder. He got a little panicky as the boards swung beneath him. It wasn’t a long drop, but the constant swaying made him finicky.

After the course, they checked his physical strength. He was able to lift almost twenty-five kilograms of weight, and his punch strength was enough to make the doctor nod with satisfaction.

The final round was endurance. How long he withstood heat, cold, or submersion. He was strictly told not to push himself, as it was not a contest, but he couldn’t help but squeeze every drop out of himself, since Mathalda was watching.

She seemed to get what he was doing, and flashed him a smile despite shaking her head.

After the physical, he took the aptitude test, which largely tested pattern recognition and analysis, rather than knowledge. Ralph thought he did quite well! At least he didn’t leave any questions unanswered.

“Outstanding,” Doctor Emming said approvingly. “You’re in great shape now. You’re more than fit for the Power Guard program.”

Ralph cheered. “How long before I get started?”

“The next batch is in…” he checked his notes. “Three days.”

“So soon?”

“You have enough time to live a little. In quarantine, of course, but we will get you any meal you want. You can call from a long list of men and women from the red-light sector.”

“I’ve already got someone in mind,” he said. Emming pretended not to notice him and Mathalda smiling at each other.

*

Having been shunned as a geek her whole life, Mathalda was almost as inexperienced as Ralph. Their kiss felt awkward and hungry, like only two people who had utterly given up on feeling intimacy could be. It felt to Ralph, as if he could finally admit to himself that he was a person, just as worthy of love and affection as a king or a senator.

His trembling fingers couldn’t believe they were caressing a woman’s body, especially one so smart as Mathalda. She fumbled her way out of her jacket and blouse. She almost tripped and fell taking off her tall boots. When she pulled down her skirt, Ralph was left breathless for a few heartbeats.

“Come on,” she prodded him. “Show me yours!”

He yelped, then complied. Unlike her, he’d been wearing simple clothes. Tank top, shorts… compared to her, he wondered if his strip show was artless.

“Whoa,” she gasped. “I never dreamed I’d get to feel abs like those…” She began to kiss his stomach. He let her have her fun for a few minutes before turning around and depositing her on the bed. Watching her pant heavily really set an animal loose in his head. He began kissing and groping her breasts. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, and it was intensely stimulating for both of them.

When he finally entered her, they were both so worked up that they climaxed in under a minute. And just like that, the energy was gone, and they were an enamored but spent couple struggling for words as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“That was…”

“That was…” she agreed. He kissed her nose, then her lips, but she was already passing out. The new sensation of a woman sleeping in his arms was yet another thing he felt grateful to the Power Guard Project for. He kissed Mathalda’s forehead one last time as sleep overtook him.

He awoke late the next day, Mathalda still sleeping with her head on his chest.

This was the happiest he’d ever been. The happiest anyone could ever be, he thought. Comparing himself to the person he was five months ago reminded him of the stark contrast. He stroked Mathalda’s soft flesh, and she giggled slightly in her sleep.

“I love you mrk…” she mumbled. “I love you—” she went back to sleep. He wondered if she’d accidentally blurted ‘Mark’, or if he was just making too much of sleep talk.

It doesn’t matter, he decided. She was happy in my arms. It was my name she called when we made love. I only saw happiness in her eyes. Who cares if she used to be in love with someone else? Heck, it’s a small miracle I didn’t blurt out Satele Shan’s name!

The thoughts calmed him down. He wondered if he and Mathalda could make this a more permanent thing. He felt frightened at the prospect of asking her. But he decided he would ask her. He didn’t want any regrets, moving forward.

*

A fortnight later

Ralph woke up to an overload of information from his nervous system. He was in agony so horrible that he was certain he’d slipped and fallen into the cracks of hell. But why? What had he done to deserve this—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUHRGHMHMMMMMM…. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAUFFFFF! GHRHHHRHHHRHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” He screamed until his vocal chords ruptured under the strain.

Cold, unmoved automata attempted to halt his writhing and his screaming. One of them said something to another, and something that looked like a spinning blade descended onto his arms and legs.

The pain… had somehow gotten worse!

Unable to move or speak, he could only hope for his torment to end someday. Please, Milady Elthunae… goddess of mercy and sanctuary… hold me in this, my time of need. Please… please!

But no succor came. On this day, or any day that followed.

*

It was the next day. Or perhaps the next millennium. Ralph couldn’t tell. Pain was all he felt anymore. He didn’t see the people who worked to make his unlife hell. He prayed to Anorel, the god of justice. But there was none to be had.

*

Not long after, Ralph’s prayers turned darker. And someone started hearing them. He prayed to Grikshom, the god of Strength, to give him the strength to break out. Right after his prayer, he felt sleep take him. When he woke up, something in his ear beeped and rang.

The type of hell had changed. He no longer felt pain, but his senses were overburdened by light and noise. His brain processed data several times faster than it used to. He stumbled out of his bed, but realized that he could get out of it now.

He looked at his hand. It looked different. It moved differently. He moved with far more power than he expected. He slapped his table with such power that it broke in half. He took a closer look at his hands. The noises he was hearing resolved into a language like the Astromechs used. The were system alerts. Once he got his head back, he realized that he could turn these sounds into visual data, much like a HUD he’d seen on some refugee ships. It reminded him that he’d undergone changes.

He looked around for anything to examine himself, and found that the door to his cell was the only passable mirror. The biggest change were the cybernetics on his eyes and ears. His skin looked paler than before, and he remembered vaguely that it was peeled off. His muscles and bones were new too, which was why he was much stronger than before. But how much stronger? He racked his brain, and it had an answer. 354% stronger. With some testing, he realized that he had gotten what he prayed for from Gikshom. He was now stronger, and deadlier.

Thinking that the gods of his mother were finally throwing him a bone, he tried to push his luck. He began praying to Ruun, the goddess of vengeance.

I have been betrayed. They gave me what they promised. But the cost... they tortured me! For days! I wish to drown my tormentors in blood. Please, great goddess. Grant me the opportunity for revenge.

Within hours, he knew that his prayer had been heard.

*

Ralph heard voices. He couldn’t fully make out what they were saying.

“… Mark IV Dorn… showing excellent results…”

“… stronger than Mark III… stable…”

“… promising. We should start putting the Mark IVs into production.”

The door opened. “Good morning, Subject Mark IV Dorn,” a droid said. “Allow me to offer you my heartfelt congratulations! As of this moment, you have been successfully inducted into the ranks of the Power Guards!”

“You are now stronger than before, not to mention all but unstoppable! Your onboard computer can help you process data, and even download information from not just the holonet, but also all Republic servers!”

“All it cost me was indescribable pain.” Ralph frowned. “What did you do to my voice? It’s different.”

“The procedure caused your vocal cords to rupture—”

“Ah yes. I remember. I was screaming so hard from all the pain. You put me through hell.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but it was what you signed up for.”

“Was it? Oh well. List out all of my improvements for me, would you? Maybe give me a copy I can study.”

“Of course, sir! We will leave a full file for you to peruse at your convenience.”

Ralph scanned the list quickly, not checking the specifics, but noting exactly what had been done to him. He was a prototype for the new Mark IV variant. His muscles, skeleton, and even nerves had been replaced. Cybernetics, some microscopic, had been fitted into several parts of his body, including many organs. These monitored their health, and were on constant standby to administer kolto or stims when necessary. He realized that there were two reinforced compartments under his rib cage, both accessible by himself. One held kolto, the other adrenals and stims.

I wonder what these cost. Or how much it would cost to maintain one fully functional Power Guard. He was still not very good at math, but his implants did the breakdown for him. It was expensive, but was perhaps more cost-efficient than replacing entire armies that got put down by Sith.

Oh, that’s right… the purpose of the Power Guard is to fight Sith. For that, this must be a bargain. According to his estimates, the high end was 6,000 credits per month. On the more conservative end, it was as low as 150. Not counting basic necessities, of course.

Wait… my body has been ‘improved.’ What kind of food do I need now?

His implants had an answer for that too. He needed a significantly higher caloric intake. More of everything than he did before. Going for just bare minimum to maintain his current level of fitness, he would need about 6,000 a month. On the high end, it could go up to 12,000.

That’s not counting other things I’ll want. How do I get a job that pays this kid of cash? He was stronger now. There would be no end to the number of people who needed his muscle.

But he wouldn’t fight for the Republic. Nor for the Sith Lords. Perhaps the Jedi… they’d always been kind to him. And they couldn’t know what was happening to him. But no. So long as they were with the Republic, he refused to side with them. The Hutts, maybe? The scum of the universe?

It was a consideration for later. But an important one.

Once he learned what he was now composed of, Ralph took the next few days to learn to control his body, and to familiarize himself with the layout of the facility.

It looks like a highly secure, yet comfortable prison, he thought sourly. The Republic… he hated the government, and the military. Someday, I’ll make you sorry.

After four days, he found that he had mastered his new levels of strength and dexterity. He decided to break out in the most explosive manner possible.

There were no explosives in the facility. No weapons, except for peashooters and paintball guns. But he did manage to find the generator controls. He had no experience dealing with this sort of thing, so he relied on the implants to supply him with the knowhow.

It was not as difficult as he’d feared. These things blew easily. He suddenly felt foolish for all the times he took shelter near a generator to keep warm at night.

Now the only danger was that the lab had set this generator up as a trap.

“Here goes nothing.” Using his onboard library, he set the generator to blow in sixty seconds, then found a place to take cover.

*

Coruscant

Lord Tarnis, masquerading as the simple Republic scientist Eli Tarnis, was not pleased. But he tried to show it as a weak Force-blind would, instead of a mighty Sith Lord. “So all our Mark IV Prototypes are gone now?”

“That’s affirmative, Doctor. All fifteen surviving models are dead; killed by the blast.”

“Is there any model unaccounted for?”

“Mark Four Dorn. We are trying to locate him now.”

“Is any of the research salvageable, at least?”

“A little, Sir. Many of the breakthroughs in the synthmuscle and nerves were lost, however. We will need to redevelop them from scratch.”

“There is no need. It’s clear that this model comes with a very basic flaw. It allows the prototype to believe they are still people. Begin preparations on a Mark V. This one will be fully metallic. A true cyborg. In addition, all models will be maintained in a medically induced coma when offline.”

“Understood, Doctor.”

“Don’t fail us again. And find that missing model. He’s a security risk.”

“Yes sir.”

*

Ralph was free. But he was weakened. He had stolen as much kolto and adrenals as he could before his escape attempt, but he’d had to burn through all of it to heal his injuries. What was worse, he was hungry. He’d not eaten for a mere eight hours, but his body was dragging along like he’d starved for days.

He had run as far from the unfamiliar location the facility was located in as he could, taking sewers and maintenance tunnels, or stowing away aboard freight trains to widen that distance. He finally slowed down, since he needed food. He was desperate enough to go dumpster diving again, when he heard the gunshots.

He entered into an alley, and saw five thugs attacking an older man in armor. The geezer was putting up a good fight, and had already killed a sixth and seventh attacker, but he had clearly been caught off-guard.

He attempted to fire off a cable, but his hand was knocked aside. He tried to fire off his flamethrower, but the fuel pipe was severed.

Someone grabbed a heavy blaster pistol out of his hand and tossed it backwards carelessly. The thugs converged on him, grabbing him and holding him down while the biggest one started beating him.

Ralph caught the blaster out of the air. He had never held one of these before, but his implants familiarized him with them in seconds. His first shot killed the big brute. The others began firing at him, but he shot back. He advanced as he shot, marveling at his enhanced reflexes—he was able to dodge the blaster bolts as if they were moving only half as fast as they should. He never had to pause for aim. The chips did that for him.

One shot, one kill. Each one hit a thug square between the eyes. He approached the old geezer, who was attempting to get back on his feet.

“I’m gonna keep their guns,” Ralph told him. “And any credits they’ve got on them. Any complaints?”

“None. But that blaster in your hand… I’m willing to pay you with something extra special, to get it back. It was a gift from my late wife.”

“Deal. Wait until I’ve taken theirs first.”

“Deal.”

Ralph picked up a few of the dead thugs’ blasters, and their belts. He even looted a vibroblade and an axe.

“Here. And you can stand.”

“How much do they have on them? Can’t be much.”

“A hundred and twenty credits. I’ll take it. I’m starving.”

“Well, here’s where my payment comes in. I have only a little cash on me right now, but I have a way for you to make a lot more.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

“Not a job; an opportunity of a lifetime—”

“No thanks. I got roped into one ‘opportunity of a lifetime.’ I just escaped after spending god-knows-how-long in torture.” He ignored the implant which tried to tell him just how long he’d been in the facility.

“This is different. It’s a contest to find out who’s the best hunter in the galaxy. A Mandalorian contest.”

“That right? And what’s that to me?”

“Here’s the summary. Mandalorians love contests of endurance, tracking, and strength. The Great Hunt is a tradition where contestants are scouted from across the galaxy to see which ones can pull off the biggest, most dangerous jobs. It’s tough to get started, but once you do, they’ll pay you thirty thousand credits each month. Plus, extra for each bounty, which are, like I said, very high risk. And therefore, high reward. and yet another extra from whoever chooses to be your sponsor. The victor gets ten million credits, plus a ship.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” It’ll help me start a new life, at least. Build a reputation I can use for other jobs. “You said Hunters? As in, Bounty Hunters?”

“That’s right. I don’t know who burned you, but us Bounty Hunters are freelancers. We can choose whom we work with, or find rivals of the people we want taken down to pay us for revenge we’re going to take anyway.”

“Cool. So what does one need to get started?”

“I mentioned a sponsor, right? There are only a limited number of slots open in the Great Hunt, and each one is nominated by a major player. Someone who has been recognized as a partner after years of using Hunters. The next one starts in a few weeks. Cash will be tight until then, but I happen to be on a bounty right now. It should keep us fed and the lights lit for a while.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m not Palliduvan anymore.” Ralph opened his kolto compartment to show what he meant. “Whatever these freaks did to me… I need a lot more food than I used to. And I can’t go hungry for too long. I need maybe 12,000 a month just for my own food.”

The old man hadn’t flinched when Ralph dropped his revelation. “Thanks for telling me. We can take on two more bounties, then. That should cover it. That’s the good thing about Nar Shaddaa. Always more work for our kind here.”

“It’ll be good practice, too. That there was my first gun. My first gunfight. And don’t you dare say I cheated. I paid a price in blood, tears, and pain.”

Now the old man was surprised. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. It looks like we’re working together, after all.”

“I’m glad you agreed to this.” The man offered his hand. “My name’s Braden. Nice to meet you.”

“Mine… well. It was ‘Ralph Corbin,’ I wanna leave my old name behind.”

“Fair enough. Many of us do. Need help thinking up an alias?”

“Maybe not. Those mad scientist droids called me ‘Mark IV Dorn.’ Maybe I’ll just stick with it.”

“Mark Fodorn, eh? It’s practically a taunt.”

“Only if they realize it. It was a secret operation.”

“Besides, there have to be a lot of products and projects called ‘Mark Four Dorn.’ This gives you an aura of mystique. Always a plus for people like us.”

“I like it.”

“Come. You said you’re hungry, right? There are a few places to eat around here. I’ll buy you a meal, then introduce you to the rest of my team. We’ll even buy you a new wardrobe, including some new armor. It won’t be glamorous, but you’ll look the part.”

“I like it. In return, I’ll bag us some bounties and win us that tournament.”

“That’s the spirit,” Braden grinned. “Mako, Jory, come to the Whole in the Wall, would you? I’ve got us a new teammate I’d like to introduce you to.”

*

Chapter 16: The Party Crasher

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

3 ATC
Velteen, Ord Mantell,

“Velteen Shippin’ Co., this is Skipper’s Delight. Wee’ ra comin’ in for a landing!” Pilot Juun Stede said happily.

The comm crackled. “Moss? Hammond Moss, is that you?”

“It’s my new hire,” the Captain replied, leaning over Juun. He was a handsome man, despite being in his mid-fifties.

“‘New’ es relitive,” Juun complained. “Ah’ve been ‘ere f’r six ‘ears now!”

“Has it already been six years?” Moss asked, looking shocked.

“Yes, indeed! Jerre ‘ere has been with, for fahve!”

“Oh, really?” The Captain looked closer at Jerre. His nose was like a millimeter from the boy. “My, would you look at that! How quickly time flies. And my little kids are all grown up. Especially you, Kray.”

“Yessir,” Jerre said.

“You done with your morning routine?” control asked. “I’m surprised you’d come here again, Moss. I thought we’d chased you off for good after that last stunt you pulled.”

“Stunt that I pulled?” Moss blustered. “How was I to know that the cargo had gone bad? The boxes were sealed before I took possession of them!”

Ground control guy sighed. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, after all. You’re free to land. But if this batch is also tainted, I swear to god…”

“Don’t worry, it’s good!” Captain Moss said reassuringly. “All the times I got your cargo for you, wasn’t that the only time you had cause for complaint?”

“Yes. But three people died from food poisoning. And fourteen were sick.”

“I hope your provider paid for it. See you soon.”

“Wha’ was tha’ abou’?” Jerre asked.

“Rotten food, bad medicine. And I swear, I didn’t know. I may not be the nicest guy in the galaxy, but I don’t cheat my clients. That’s a wonderful way to never get a legit job again. To get caught up with syndicates. Hutts. Spice runners. The guy who sold the goods was at fault. And he knew it, seeing as he ran off with the money. I hope he was caught.”

“Tha’s why we need’t vet ar employers.”

“Ease off, Jerr. We both know e’s an okay man.”

“Right yoo are. Initiatin’ landen’ s’quence.”

“There’s a nice hotel in this town,” the Cap said. “Good food, a live band, and a nice view of the night sky. A garden with a pond that’s good to hang out in. You can have fun till about noon.”

“Thanks, Cap’n.”

*

Seven hours later

Juun Stede was shaken out of her slumber by a loud thumping on the door. “Whazzappenin?” she asked.

The Captain burst in, and he was speaking so high-pitched, Juun thought he was turning into a mouse. “Juun? Where’s Jerre? He wasn’t in his room. Wait, never mind. We’re in trouble. The town’s under attack.”

“WHAT?”

“It’s a gang of Slavers. A vicious one called the Ghorman’s Finest. Deserters who took to the flesh trade. Even Republic regulars stay clear of them. We gotta go!”

“But—”

“NOW!” the Captain squealed. Mania lit his eyes. Juun supposed she should be grateful he didn’t’ just run off on his own. “I’m warming up the engines! Find Jerre and back before we leave!”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Juun rose to begin looking for Jerre. But only so she could direct him to the ship. She was going nowhere. Trouble was, she suspected Jerre wasn’t either. This situation hit too close to home for the both of them.

Finding her buddy didn’t take very long at all. As she’d predicted, he had started courting the sweet little thing who’d caught his fancy the day before.

Lima, her name was, if Juun recalled correctly. She was short. Her blonde hair almost reached her hip joint. Her large eyes were brown, and she walked with a slight limp. Her voice would’ve made angels sigh.

And sure enough, she found Jerre sitting near the pond with her, singing some old ballad or other. His reception was clearly only lukewarm.

“Jerre, yoo got a min?”

“Juunie, Ma’am, I’m kinda in th’ middl’a somethin’.”

“Now.” Juun pulled him away. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lima get up to make a dash for it. She ignored her, though Jerre looked like he might chase after. Juun caught his wrist. “This town iz abou’ t’ come under attack,” she told him. “The Cap’n is abou’ tuh take off.”

His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on.

“Thing is, Jerre… Ah want yoo ter leave with. Yoo’s still sh*te at shootin’ a sentient, and the Ghorman Fins are nawt bit-cred thugs. They the real deal. Yoo got tha’ Jerre? Ah want yoo t’leave.”

“Ah can’t leave!” Jerre protested. “Ah’ve got a girl!”

“No, you don’t. Yoo’re like a lil’ brother t’ me, and Ah hate t’ tell yoo this. But you’ve got no charm. Get back to th’ ship. Leave with the Cap’n. Ask him to teach yoo ‘ow to really proach a girl.”

“Yoo not comin’?”

“No. Ah’m not. Ah’ve got mah mission.” She clapped his shoulders. “Chop, chop, Jerr. The Capn’ won’t wait forevah.”

“He don’t ‘ave to. Ah’m stayin’. Yoo can’t make me leave.”

Juun stamped her feet impatiently. “Look, there ain’t no time—”

“Which is why we’d bette’ get started. Don’ worry. Ah need tuh get muh feet wet at some point.”

Juun sighed. “Alright. But don’ expect Lima to change her mind about you—”

“Her name’s Annalise. Lima was the landlady. Who’s married.”

“Ah, right.”

“Now come on! We gotta get to the walls!”

“Nuh-uh. We can’t shoot em down. The town’s guns are pea-shooters. Only way to save these good people, is if we fight smart.”

“Whaddya you mean!?”

“Ah mean, we’re gonn fight messy.”

*

Aboard the Ghorman Fist

Captain Krum Payne watched the fighting on the screens. Well, perhaps the word ‘battle’ was wrong. It was a walk in the park. “Keep those boomsticks set for stun!” he roared into the comm as Corporal Jared fired a lethal blast at a target. Thank god he’d missed. “Remember! We need enough credits to finance our operations for the next five months. That means we need 1,500 slaves, at least! And this town has only 2,000 residents, even counting the guards! Get that through your stone skulls!” He turned to one of the other monitors. “Dennison! Watch your tail, there’s a gunner on the wall! Rogers, there’s a turret round that corner! Kareem—”

But that was as far as he got. A knife slashed its way across his throat, and a hand materialized so it could deactivate the comms. As he groped for his torn windpipe, he was pulled off his seat and tossed against the floor.

“Ello, you sonufabetch!” the woman with the dagger said with a nasty smile.

Her partner wasn’t smiling. “And goodbye, too!”

*

Kepler Madisons had squeezed himself into a gap between a shipping container and a wall. It was barely big enough for a child to be comfortable in, and he was a man grown. But he’d been left with no choice.

Damned pirates… and damn that scamp, Moss! At least he could’ve evacuated their kids for them! Now, they were trapped like the rest of them. Everyone who hadn’t already been rounded up had retreated into the fortified Town Hall.

Except, of course, for Kepler, whose bad legs stopped him from getting there in time.

He watched helplessly as the pirates blew the doors and shields, singing loudly and gleefully all the while. But their jubilation was not to last.

Beyond the gates, Kepler watched their grounded flagship’s guns moved. Rockets fell upon their fleet of transports, most of which were on the ground as well, but some were up in the sky, providing air support.

Every one of them went up in flames, one after another.

The slavers stood slack-jawed for a crucial ten seconds, by which time the ship’s antipersonnel blasters had come online. They opened up on the gaping outlaws long before they’d regained the capacity to move.

“TAKE COVER!” a slaver screeched before she was hit in the stomach.

Kepler didn’t see the rest of the carnage, as the guns began strafing targets hidden by the walls. But their anguished cries of surrender were enough for him. The ship took off and circled the perimeter of the village, its blasters and rockets occasionally blazing when it had varmints to kill.

Kepler stumbled out of his hiding spot and made for the gate. Mostly, he had to crawl.

He lost his lunch after seeing the carnage on the other side, but it was totally worth it. Most of these garbage bags were dead or dying. A few looked at him with eyes begging for aid.

“I think I’ll save you,” he grinned at them. “Then I’ll sell you. It’s only fair, right?”

The survivors began to wail.

Behind them, the ship landed back right where it had started from. The hatch yawned open, and a pair of humans with bright pink hair emerged. The woman had her hands raised in triumph. Behind Kepler, the townspeople who had emerged began to cheer.

*

The Next Day

Marshall Kendal Winson shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed. “Two people managed to take out the famed Ghorman’s Finest all on their own.”

His partner, Gella Vaughn, nodded. “Do you think you’d be able to do that? You had training with stealth field generators too.”

“Maybe,” Kendal shrugged. “But it’s a desperate gambit. You gotta be really skilled to use those in a live battlefield.”

“If it helps, Ah think the scum-kissers had grown a bit co*cky.”

Both Marshals nodded. “But that doesn’t diminish your achievement here today, Mister Kraot,” Gella said. “Or that of your partner.”

“You’re both heroes,” said Sergeant Sia from the local police department. “Nearly two thousand people are alive and free, because of you.”

“The Republic doesn’t have enough soldiers and guards to fend off raiders anymore,” Kendal nodded. “It’s always a relief when good citizens step up to fill the gap. Especially citizens who could’ve run.”

“We’ll see to it that you’re well rewarded for your heroism,” Sia promised. She turned to also address the other human, who was walking up to them with a large bottle in her hands. “The Governor has offered you a hundred thousand credits each.”

“An ‘undred thousand,” Juun smiled. “But Ah was hopin’ for a differen’ prize. Fer me, at least.” She pointed at the ship behind her. “That thing. Can Ah have it?”

“Juunie?”

“You ‘eard me!” Stede told her partner. “We bin looken to go independent, anyway! An’ here she is, a fixer-upper right when we need ‘er!”

“But that piece of junk?” Sia asked, appalled. “It’s a stupid XS Stock freighter! And a really beat-up one at that!”

“She may be tha’,” Kraot agreed. “Bu’ she ‘as it where it counts. Them engines and armor are good. Responsive. Th’ shields need en upgrade, but we cin turn this pauper into the queen.”

“Nawt tha’ we want to,” Stede said. “A gorgeous ship is good and all, but what this gal needs is a nice bronco! A fishwife who hurls curses with a black mouth and slaps with stinking fish! A real party crasher who c’n fly rings around more bad guys.”

The cops and marshals all looked at each other. “Well, if you’re dead set on it, we can get the paperwork done and sent to you, right away.”

“You can also have the pick of our impound lot,” Sia added. “Maybe there’s more junk there that can use. Hmm?”

“Tha’s a swell idea!” Stede said happily.

“Excuse me, Sir,” the protocol droid piped up. “Per your request, I have filed the paperwork to name Masters Juun Stede and Jerre Kraot as the new owners of this vessel. But per custom, I suggest rechristening the ship, as the old name is marked as a slaver’s ship.”

“Juunie already gave her her name,” Kraot said. “Ah mean Cap’n Juun did. Don’ lookit me like tha’. Thissiz yo idea. The ‘Party Crasher.’”

Stede considered it for a moment. They all did. “You know, Jerr, that is th’ most baddest of the asses-est ship name Ah ever heard!”

“The Party Crasher,” Kendal smiled. “A fitting name, since you crashed the Ghorman Elites’ party for good. May it be your signature in the years to come.”

“Yes indeed. Thanks again. And congratulations… Captain Stede.”

*

Chapter 17: Exacting Standards

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC,
Carida
Late at Night

The lights in the room had been dimmed. The stereo played a slow but intense dance tune. It was all heavy drums and metal guitars. The lyrics were best described as chanting in guttural roars.

Roban Queens sat on a chair which some may have considered too small for him, watching as his girl put on an exquisite little dance for him. She had a small chair of her own, around which she gyrated. Her movements were not only strong and powerful, they betrayed her deep eagerness. And more to the point, they were arousing, especially since she was dressed in her sexy underwear.

But Roban watched with a little dissatisfaction as the gift he’d bought for her was already half a size too small. And although her makeup did hide it to a degree, he could still see her chapped lips and the few blisters around her mouth. Her green eyes were a little too bloodshot for his liking.

He definitely felt those bumps on her face when she pushed her lips against his for a hungry kiss. Her body felt hard and unyielding beneath his fingers, and her boobs were practically non-existent. Luckily, the kiss and the dance—which had now become a light lap dance—were enough to maintain his excitement.

He fed her some champagne from his large crystal goblet. Once he was ready, he carried her to bed and tossed her onto it. “You ready for this, my little viper?”

“Yes,” she agreed. She swallowed before correcting herself. “I mean, ‘Yes, Master.’”

“Good. You’re learning your place, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” He pulled off her undergarments and stabbed her with his cannon. She gasped a little as he began thrusting with the full force his hips could manage.

A short while later, he gasped and felt the release. He waited till he was spent before climbing into bed beside her.

“Roban?”

“Yeah, Tatiana?”

She kissed his chin. “I love you.”

“Hmmm. You’re my treasure.”

She giggled, turning slightly in his arm.

“You did well today.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. The Master approves.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Say, Ban? I don’t really like it. Calling someone Master.”

“Why not? You had no problem with that Jedi.”

“That’s different. Like a courtesy I barely mean. But with you—with us—”

“It’s all the more special. Don’t you think?”

“Well… yes…?” she said doubtfully. He stroked her chest before realizing he didn’t want to do that until she’d started to fill out again. He pulled her cheek closer instead, and kissed that.

“You will learn to like it,” he assured her. “Being in a relationship is all about compromise, after all.”

“Hmmm.”

“You were out late today.”

“It was a training exercise.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Comms weren’t allowed.”

“Find a way. Use smoke signals if you have to, next time.”

She just sighed. “Say. Speaking of comms, can I have my personal comm back? It’s Dean’s birthday tomorrow, and I’d like to wish him.”

Roban thought about it. “Okay. But remember our deal.”

“And maybe find out if he has any party in the works.”

“We’ll see. Depends on our schedule.”

“Right. Goodnight, Ban.”

“Goodnight.”

*

If there was anything Tatiana Horakova could count on, it was the ease with which Roban fell asleep. It was a skill he’d picked up in boot camp, he claimed. An indispensable one for soldiers and guards.

Thankfully, he’d never learned the skill of waking up as easily. His snores were disturbed for a moment while she crept out of the bed and into his fresher.

At first, she tried to pleasure herself; her boyfriend rarely lasted very long in bed, and didn’t care to do any more than that. Worse, he didn’t like it when she took care of herself either. So, she’d taken to doing so in here. After he was knocked out.

After about ten minutes, she grew tired of trying and gave up.

Instead, she went about her second ritual. After washing her hands, she began purging herself. She didn’t recall how she’d gotten here—probably back when she was trying to impress her first boyfriend—but this was a problem that had its roots deep in her now. Ever since that disaster on Iridonia, she hadn’t been able to get the dead out of her mind’s eye. Their gruesome bodies ripped apart by those deadly blixii… their blood and guts laid out across the forest floor… their eyes staring out desperately…

I should’ve died that day. Why do I deserve to live, when even Arche died? Her whole family were depending on her. No one wants me. No one needs me.

With that thought, the first bit of bile flew past her lips. Then the second. A minute of heaving later, her stomach was empty. She collapsed beside the receptacle, exhausted. The memories of that day were growing dimmer. The survivor’s guilt, as her therapist Tara Childress called it.

Bitterness came instead. Self-loathing. Resentment. Hurt. Yearning. She shuddered. A wave of dizziness nearly knocked her out, but she was able to wash up and get back in bed.

*

The Next Day

Tatiana spent the day as normal. Wakeup call before dawn, chores and morning training till breakfast, followed by drills and more training. It was around 10:00 when she finally spoke up to Roban again.

“Hey. Ban?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have my personal comm back?”

“Not now. We can go over your messages together before lunch.”

“Please, Roban.”

He shot her a smile. “Call me ‘Master,’ and I’ll consider it.”

Tia sighed. “Master, may I please have my comm back now?”

“I’ll consider it.”

He sounded like he was expecting a laugh, but all Tia felt was discomfort.

*

Three Days Later,
12:30

“Where are you going?” Roban asked sourly as he watched Tatiana throw on her jacket and boots.

“Therapy,” Tia called over her shoulder.

“Not Xard…”

“No. Tara Childress.”

“Good. But she’s taking too long. You’d still fit in my autocannon crate. Two of you would.”

“She’s doing her best.”

“Yeah? Well, she needs to do better. Remember. I’ve nothing against gay couples, but I’m straight. And I don’t want people to ever doubt that.” He pointed at her chest.

She sighed. “Of course.”

He held a hand to his ear with a teasing smile.

“Of course… Master.”

*

“It’s getting worse,” Tara said, tapping her datapad with a slim finger.

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong. You were dealt a very bad hand, that’s all. You’re badly hurt. That’s why you’re here. To heal.”

“Yeah.”

“But about your boyfriend… he has an obscene level of control over your life.”

“I owe him that life,” Tia said softly. “Without him, I’d be a mess of blood, guts, sh*t, and goop.”

“There’s no doubt of that, my dear. But that doesn’t mean he owns you now. He has taken control of every aspect of your life. Whom you talk to—even doctors and therapists. When you can leave his side. He’s even taken your personal comm. He makes you feel guilty for not meeting his expectations. He makes you doubt yourself. Distorts your reality. Demands absolute obedience. Uses a combination of love and disapproval to mold your behavior. Has he started trying to force you to retire yet? To become a homemaker?”

“No.”

“He will. Just as soon as he pops the question. Or when you get pregnant. Even in your present condition, life finds a way, somehow. Especially given how he insists on eschewing contraceptives. People like him… they always do. Isolation. That’s their goal, at least so far as their partners are concerned. Tatiana, you need to consider breaking up with him. He’s a good soldier and friend, from what you’ve told me. But as a lover, he dresses in red flags. I know he saved your life, and I’ve met many a person who felt… “stirrings,” shall we call them. But you owe him a few beers and a big favor. Nothing more. Certainly not your obedience.”

“He… he likes hearing me call him ‘Master,’” Tia said, hesitation itself.

“I see. And do you feel happy when you do?”

“No.”

“How did you feel when you revealed such a detail?”

Tatiana shuddered. “Guilty,” she whispered. “Like I betrayed him.”

“Why?”

“I…”

After a few moments, Tara suggested, “Perhaps you feel bad for allowing yourself to believe he’s the bad guy.”

“Maybe.”

“You need to reset the boundaries before they solidify,” Tara said insistently. “He will be upset if you do. He will guess that I suggested this. He will try to make you feel guilty.”

“What does he have to do with my bulimia?” Tatiana asked. “He’s… he’s not the source of my traumas!”

“No, but he is using them. In making you feel like his approval is what dictates your worth, he stands in the way of your progress. Stay with him as a soldier, if you must. I know how hard it is to replace effective soldiers and teams. But you need to break out of this cycle.”

“I…” Everything from the past few weeks went through Tatiana’s head. The disdain in his eyes at her physique and appearance. The uphill battle to stay in his good graces. The insistence on being called Master. The lack of care in her own needs being met, especially the sexual ones. And how she now needed his say-so before talking to so much as a requisition officer, if they were male. Reluctantly, she saw the problems. “I understand.”

*

Three Days Later

Tatiana still hadn’t confronted Ban. She couldn’t. As Tara put it, she had grown too dependent on his validation. She desperately wanted Roban to appreciate her, even if it meant forcing herself to call him ‘Master,’ or allowing him to dictate her relationships.

On the last mission—a routine bandit camp elimination—she’d saved his life four times, and he’d saved hers twice. They’d both taken wounds for each other.

Once they were safely back in their ship, Roban beamed. “My little girl deserves a treat for this!” and patted her head. “So, name it. Dinner at the Star Lion? Or the Ashan Star?”

“Uhm. Sure. How about the Gaston’s?”

“The juice shop?!” Roban shook his head with a condescending tsk-tsk-tsk. “We need some style in our lives. I pay, remember?”

“I can’t eat that much—” Kanner protested, but Ban slapped her bottom. It was just a bit too hard to be playful.

“I’m getting sick of this,” Roban snapped, his mood turning sour without warning. As it often did, when she didn’t agree with his decisions at once. “How long are you going to be this… this walking skeleton?” He grabbed her shoulder and shook her. “Every time I’m out with you, you make me look bad. People take one look and think I’m not feeding you well enough. Worse, that I’m forcing you to starve yourself!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better!” Roban snapped. “What are you going to therapy for? Why aren’t you getting better? Why are you paying that stupid woman 35 credits for a ninety-minute session? She isn’t letting you get any better, is she? She makes a fifth what she would from her average patient, so she’s compensating by dragging them out, isn’t she?”

“That’s not—”

“You’re finding someone else,” Roban decided. “Soon as we get back, we’re looking for—”

“She’s not the problem,” Tia interrupted. She swallowed. She couldn’t tell him the truth. That he was it, at least according to Tara. “I am,” she said instead.

“Is that what she’s gotten you to believe? No. It’s her. She’s the one at fault here.”

“Roban, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tia protested.

His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You—” she swallowed again. Inhaled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Have you ever been to a therapist yourself? It takes time. And there has to be effort from the patient’s side. Effort that I’ve…”

“Yes?” Roban sounded dangerous.

“Effort I’ve not been able to put in.” She willed her tears away. Compartmentalized. For later. She could cry when she was alone.

“Wrong answer.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“WRONG ANSWER!” he shouted, grabbing hold of her hands. “WHEN I TELL YOU TO JUMP, YOU SAY ‘HOW HIGH,’ YOU GOT IT? AND I’M TELLING YOU TO LEAVE THIS STUPID BITCH!”

“Roban!” Tia whimpered. She was frozen. She couldn’t move. Her only thoughts told her to say yes.

His fingers tightened their hold.

She screamed.

“WHAT IS YOUR ANSWER WHEN I SAY LEAVE?!” he demanded. “WHAT IS YOUR ANSWER WHEN I TELL YOU TO STOP f*ckING AROUND, AND EAT ALREADY!”

“Roban!”

“Not ‘Roban,’” he growled. “Your answer should be ‘Yes, Master!’”

That did it. Her fight response finally kicked back in. Her feet planted themselves so firmly on his chest that he was tossed out the doors, which were still set to automatically open. He ended up sailing nearly seven meters, crashing against a stack of crates and ruining the misshapen pile they’d been left in.

Tatiana sat on the floor where she’d fallen, gasping hard. She was shaking too. And she felt the need again. To purge.

Instead, she marched over to Roban, who was starting to sit up again. He was too stunned to fight back right now, though Tia couldn’t be sure why. Was it because he’d been knocked back, or because she’d finally gathered up the stones to fight him?

She knelt in front of him. “This is what she was warning me about,” Tatiana growled. “You. Your controlling, abusive ways. The reason I’m not getting better is you. And because I’m not getting away from you fast enough. How can I get better when you treat me as your possession? Control my life?”

“Tatiana—”

“Drop the attitude,” Tia warned him. “You said you were growing sick of me? Well, I’ll make things easy for you. Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to give me back the stuff you confiscated from me. You’re going to move your stuff out of my room. Including the bugs you planted there. And if I find any later, you’re going to be in deep sh*t. If you don’t comply, I will report you for abuse. I’m going to keep an eye on you, and any other women you date. If I see signs you’re giving them the same treatment you gave me, I’ll get Captain Ryker involved. Got it?”

“Don’t talk to me that way.”

“You’re not my master. I talk to you how I want. Don’t fight me, Ban. Not only will I win—and break that tough-macho-man act you put up for everyone—it will make this impossible to sweep under the rug. You’re a good soldier, and the Republic needs good soldiers. That’s why scum like Dorja and Worthy are still out there. And that’s the only reason why I’m giving you another chance. But don’t you ever push me again. And don’t you ever touch me!”

She put her hands in front of his face, and was herself shocked by the bruises that were already forming up there.

“Isn’t the ideal man-woman relationship your dream?” she asked, aghast. “Aren’t you supposed to protect your woman, not hurt them like this?”

“Tatiana… I’m so sorry. Please. Give me a second chance.”

“Will you relinquish all your control over me?” She only had to see his expression to know she couldn’t trust his word. “No. No, I don’t think I will. Like Tara said, you’re the biggest obstacle on my road to recovery right now. I want everything back. I want to be done with you.”

“What’s going on here?” Captain Ryker appeared at the door.

“Training sesh gone wrong!” Tia called back.

“‘Training,’ eh?” the older soldier chuckled. “Back in my day, kids were eager to rest once they were back at base. Maybe that’s why we lost.”

“We lost coz the Sith lied,” Tia reminded him, standing up and hiding her arms.

“That too, I suppose.”

“We’re done here, anyway. Aren’t we, Ban?”

“Yeah,” Ban grunted. “We are.” Tia helped him up. Reluctantly. At the end of the day, he was still a good soldier. And a good friend. Maybe… maybe… maybe they could go back to what they used to be. Almost.

“You two did good work out there today,” Ryker said. “I’ve put in for a commendation. You’re both good soldiers; the best to have served under me.”

“Awww, shucks!” Tatiana smiled. “It’s fun working with you too.”

“I’m also recommending you for a new assignment. It’s on Cademimu V. In the Outer Rim. There’s been a lot of pirate activity in that sector, so expect to be kept busy.”

“Yessir!”

Once he left, Tia felt a little moody. Silent. She made for her cabin. Roban didn’t follow.

*

The next week

Today’s therapy session was via holo, as Tatiana was settling in on Cademimu.

“So he returned your effects?” Tara asked.

Tatiana nodded. “And took his away. Including the bugs. I scanned afterwards.”

“That’s a relief,” Tara sighed. “I half-expected him to fight you. To get worse.”

“He’s not all bad,” Tatiana said. She was certain it was true. Perhaps Roban would realize just how messed up his behavior had been. Maybe he’d be nicer to his next… Queen.

“What’s going to happen between you two now?”

“Well… we’re still a good tag-team. Maybe we can make that work.”

“Be sure to keep me in the loop,” Tara requested. “You’re still not on the mend yet. Did you eat properly?”

“No… just half a cup of rice. In a whole day. But I was able to keep the urge away this time.”

“Baby steps,” Tara recommended. “Take whatever wins you can get. You have so much to cope with. But now that your most immediate danger is taken care of, I think it’s time to address the deaths of your friends again.”

“Yeah.”

“So let’s go back to that day. Tell me what happened.”

*

Chapter 18: Mercy

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC

Mercy Tanniels always took pains to arrive forty minutes before any meetings. This not only gave her the chance to scope out the building, but to really blend in. She entered the Blue Comet and looked around with very open enthusiasm, looking for a playmate. She found several eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, and picked out one of the prettier patrons.

He was a Zeltron, with bright pink skin and hair dyed blue. He had a heavy leather jacket on, and noticed her interest. He gave her a very alluring smile, which she returned as she approached.

“I’m here for some fun,” she whispered, slipping on her best Corellian accent.

“Then you know how to find it,” the Zeltron replied, taking her hand in his. “Shall we hit the dance floor?”

“Yes, please!” Mercy let herself be slowly led to the middle of the crowd, and began swaying her hips in tune with his. He was a playboy from the looks of things, and knew how to be patient. He hadn’t gone straight for a kiss, which would have been fine for her purposes; but the dance floor was even better. From here, she could see the whole place as she turned around. And most of the patrons could see her; just another traveler looking to for some fun in an otherwise boring town.

Once she got a better look at all the patrons in the cantina—and the risk they posed—Mercy sidled closer to her date, her smile deepening, and her teeth biting her lower lip. She traced a corner of her mouth with her tongue, and the Zeltronian’s eyes widened; his lips formed a small ‘O’. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and drew closer to her, shaking suddenly.

Mercy felt pleased. Good to know her charms worked on even experienced marks. She wrapped her hands around him and began kissing him lightly as they danced, coming up every now and then to let him breathe.

“You’re the sexiest man I’ve met in weeks,” she breathed into his neck as he gasped for some breath. “So confident and handsome…” she buried the fingers of one hand in his curly hair, and stroked at his stylish jacket with the other. “So well groomed… so well dressed… oh, the things I want to do to you!”

He involuntarily yelped in a tinny voice. “You… you’re gorgeous…” he whimpered. “Hot… I… I…” She kissed him again, fiercely this time. His vanishing confidence aside, he really was the best playmate she’d ever found, and she didn’t mind breaking a bed or two with him later. She drew him to one of the chairs next to a wall and sat him down, then sat herself down on top of him; still kissing, still dancing.

“My name is Lizzie,” she whispered, when she gave him another chance for air.

“Felton,” he gasped hoarsely. His eyes were round as coins, his lips pulled in a dazed smile. “Felton Gabran.”

“Tell me where your room is,” she suggested. “I’ll pay you a visit before I leave. I can feel your co*ck rubbing against my ass… and I know a better place to put it.”

He gulped again. “I’m staying at a room at Barfelt’s,” he said.

“Good. Now come and kiss me again… handsome.”

She played with him for a little while more before noting that she was a few minutes off. After which she ended her fun times and winked at him. “Let’s leave a little for our private party, alright?”

He nodded so hard his head became a blur.

“See you in a few hours… Felton.” She gave him a small wink, and he beamed back at her. She made her way to the bar, several other men and women came up to her with hopeful expressions, perhaps wanting the same passion she’d showered on Felton. Some were even pretty enough to catch her own eye, like the lethan Twi’lek lady, and the Zabrak with big arms. She considered inviting them to her party at Felton’s later, but tabled the notion. Parties were for when she didn’t want anything entering her own sex, and today, she felt like enjoying a one-on-one. Perhaps tomorrow, she could return, and seek them out again.

Once at the bar, she elbowed her way past a pair, and ordered a local beer. As she chose a table and sipped her beverage, she listened in on all the people around her.

There was a small group of friends on her right, talking about a mutual acquaintance.
"I hear Sola is cheating on Bragi again."
"Isn’t Bragi her lover?”
“She has a third!”
“That makes it a seventh, actually.”
They chuckled heartily.

A table behind her, there were Republic Soldiers talking about their recently departed comrade’s family.
“Poor Draya. They’d just gotten married too.”
“How old is their son?”
“Two years, I think.”
“Good lord, they married after they had a child?”
“Which era are you from, Trench? This kinda thing is quite common these days.”
“Well…”
“Word is the Republic doesn’t have funds to pay the families anymore. They’re requesting donors from Corellia and Contruum, in exchange for a few plum concessions.”
“That’s better than nothing! Draya still can’t work thanks to her accident last year. I dunno if she ever will.”
“I was thinking of starting a collection for her. Opening up an account that will be there for her in five years.”
“I’m in. Gus was a good guy. A real hero.”

A third group, women only, was speaking in low whispers, barely audible above the music.
“I’m quitting. I can’t stand that place anymore! I have nothing against Gamorreans and Trandoshans in the day-to-day, but as customers—”
“The Houks are bad too!”
“I’m so glad they took that brute away! What was his name?”
“I gotta say though, Tusk and his crew are well behaved.”
“Right. That’s a species where you want them to be religious fanatics… at least in our line of work. Hate to be the sorry sob they’re paid to hunt.”

An group of middle-aged Bith beside her talked about a new play.
“The ‘Tragedy of the Khamins’, it’s called. It was written by our own Ananset Barahu, and stars names like Willisa Suriika, and Wiintan Abarl.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of it, but only in certain circles. I wonder why someone like Ananset didn’t publicize his play. Does he wish it to fail?”
“No. I believe he’s trying something new. Current bookings are something of an organic test audience.”
“Really! I’ve never heard of such a thing!”
“I have. He did it for ‘Swans of the Dusken Brooks’.”
“Ahhh! That one was a real classic!”
“I’m going for this one. The tickets are cheap, and we’ll be among only the most devoted Barahu fans. It will be an experience!”
“Count me in!”

Mercy’s smile widened, hidden by the mug. That last was especially interesting. If she could get a suitable date, perhaps she could go see.

Her contact arrived a few minutes later, a gray old Weequay named Goru Pidan. “Mister Goru!” she cried, walking up to him with her mug. “It’s good to meet you again,” she shook his hand with her free one. “Mister Grayson sends his regard. And a benefaction, since he loves you so much! I think he’s still hoping you’ll marry him someday.”

“Mister Grayson is a good friend,” Goru said in his gravelly voice. “Been very good to me. Better than I deserve. Have you been waiting long?”

“Not quite, I needed to unwind after my last meeting. It went on for hours.” She shuddered. “Do you have a favorite spot?”

“I’d rather sit somewhere private, this time. Hey Bertie, can I have a private booth this time?”

“Thirty credits,” the landlord replied.

“I’ve got this,” the Weequay assured Mercy.

“You can take that one,” Bertie grunted, and Mercy followed her contact in the direction he’d indicated. She did a little waltz as she passed, stroking the lekku of one of her prospective dates from earlier. The Twi’lek shivered and grinned.

Mercy eventually entered the booth and closed it behind her. She activated a device in her purse and confirmed first that there were no bugs planted in this booth. Good. Otherwise they’d just have to find a better spot to talk, after a false business deal for the listeners’ sake.

"We’re clear,” she let her ever-present smile widen. “How do you do, sir?”

“Well, thank you.”

“I believe you like your payment first? Here you go.” She slipped a small box in his direction. He peeked inside, and examined the gemstone with the looking glass she knew he always kept in his pocket.

“This is worth seven thousand credits in the Republic. Six in the Empire.”

“Is it worth the information you had?”

“Yes. The exchange is happening tonight, at 2130. In a blind alley behind Dresom’s.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“There’s only a small guard this time. Neither side trusts the other, you see. Hence the location. It’s open, neutral, and safe. Very little crime happens there.”

“That’s really useful. Thank you, Goru.”

“Sure. It’s good money.”

“Right. I’ll let my superiors know. See you!”

She left with a wide smile, lingering with another pretty for a few minutes before leaving the establishment. She walked to her room with a spring in her step, one that hinted at a party girl expecting a wild romp later in the evening.

*

Her room was cleaner than most, both in how little dust it had, and the complete lack of listening devices. This planet was out of the way, and far from any war or political intrigue, so little electronic bugging happened without a warrant.

“Mister Grayson? Lizzie here. I met your friend. Fun man! I can see why you fancy him.”

The old man on the other end coughed. “Our connection is secure. You can drop the codespeak.”

“I like verbal sparring, Sir. It’s like a nice bath for my mind. Keeps me refreshed, while also preparing for a big day. Or a nice night’s rest.”

“Noted. Find yourself a friend then. I regretfully don’t have the time for such pleasures. What did Goro have to say?”

She gave him her tidbit, and the staff behind him made notes.

“What are your impressions on this?”

“Dresom’s is a place for simple clientele. There won’t be soldiers, gangs, or even unaffiliated criminals there. Apparently, both sides prefer a neutral location since they don’t trust each other. It’s a nice story, but an obvious lie.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Shola has the leverage here, and she knows it. She’d be able to demand the terms, and the Republic wouldn’t be able to do much but nod their head. She should be able to tell them to leave this world, and they’d only be able to nod while grinding their teeth to nubs.”

“I see. So, it’s a trap then.”

“And our dear friend Goru’s in on it. I’ve read his files, how he’s always whining unhappily about being forced to do this. He was rather businesslike and cooperative this time. Even paid for the booth.”

“You’re a lot more… disarming than most agents,” the dark-haired woman on his right said. Mercy was certain this was the infamous Watcher Two. Her eyes were sharp, and she seemed to process each detail before they’d even left Mercy’s lips.

“I agree. I got me some dates today by just being me,” Mercy flashed her mightiest smile. “But he’s not into women, remember?”

“Your hunger for sex is something your previous handlers have noted,” Keeper said disapprovingly.

I rarely let them actually put their junks in me, you know. Today’s going to be one of the exceptions. “They’re alibis, should things go wrong. And extra guns for protection, should they go very wrong. I promise you; I choose my toys with care.”

“Noted. So, what do you propose to do?”

“We can’t call it off,” one of his staff said nervously. “Too much is riding on this. If that exchange is legit…”

“It’s that or send in an understrength team,” Watcher Two said. “Thanks to someone’s bad info, we only have five people there. Six, if you include Lizzie.”

“I have a better solution,” Mercy raised a hand. “I heard that the Clan of Tusk is in town. They’re Trandoshan hunters, known for professionalism, discretion, skills, and willingness to work for anyone. The Trandoshan version of zealots, in short. They can check it out for us, and likely survive any ambush that such a ‘neutral zone’ can conceal. Especially if we let them know it might be a trap. And, as it happens, they’re not on any contracts at the moment. I’ve taken the liberty of reaching out to them. I should be meeting them in thirty minutes.”

Keeper nodded stoically. “Good work. How much do you plan to offer them?”

“There’s twenty in this group, so ten thousand should suffice. Plus a bonus, which I think they'll be more interested in, something that satisfies their religious beliefs.”

“I’ll see the funds added to your budget. Is there anything else you need?”

“I… have an additional plan I’ve been working on, sir. Something that can get us the package, but cost minimal resources. If all goes according to plan, I can dispose of Goru, make it look like the fallout. But since he’s a longstanding informant…”

“He has been useful in the past, true. But if he’s betrayed us, he dies. But find out why he sold us out first, and how much he told his employers.”

“Consider it done.”

Mercy was already on her way out when the transmission went cold.

*

Mercy met Tusk in the warehouse he and his clan were staying at. She was taken to him at once, under guard, but without any fuss. The Trandoshan known as ‘Tusk’ was short for his kind, but had gained a reputation for being a peerless knife-fighter and spearman. He also had a confirmed score of over seven thousand, meaning he’d partaken in many successful hunts in his lifetime. And he wasn’t even old yet.

“Welcome, petitioner,” he greeted her in Basic. “Know that anything you sssay will remain sssealed in our presssenccce. You may speak as if in your most private sanctum.”

“I have a job for your clan,” she said. “I’m with Imperial Intelligence, and I believe our informant has set a trap for us. But the bait is too irresistible.”

The Trandoshans chuckled. “Isss a sssmart hunter then.”

“But every hunter can become the hunted, if their trap snares more than they’d bargained for.”

“I ssssee what your tasssk for usss isss. You wishsh usss to ssspring the trap and return with your bait.”

“If it’s there at all,” she shrugged. “A truly smart hunter would only use a decoy, when rumor or misinformation would suffice.”

“True. You are sssmart hunter too. You sssee a trap, and think only of how to turn it on itsss ssssettersss.”

“Yes.” It was a struggle not to stretch out the ‘s’ like they did.

“What will our ssspoilsss be?”

“Ten thousand credits, and a bonus,” she lifted up her holocomm. A holo of a large animal came into picture, fighting off Wookiees who were a third its size.

“Ahhh, yesss! Prey worthy of the Ssscorekeeper! Tell usss all!”

“It’s a Terentatek. Very rare, very deadly. They are drawn to what the Sith and Jedi call the ‘Dark Side of the Force,’ which is why you’ll only find them in places supposedly saturated with the stuff. This one was on Hutta. Some minor Hutts thought it would be good sport to bring in a four of these beasts for their gladiators to fight. Unfortunately, they got more than they bargained for, and the thirteen beasts went on a rampage. Killed everyone in the arena, ate the Hutts. Nine of them were killed, but four still remain at large. I can take you and your clan to one, drop you in the general vicinity, so that you may enjoy the hunt for these mighty beasts. You may die, but it will be a death befitting the children of the Scorpekeeper.”

“Indeed, indeed!” the clan leader looked around at his subordinates, and saw them all hissing with anticipation. “We accccept! Thisss night cannot be here quickly enough!”

“I appreciate it, Clan leader Tusk. In light of your reputation, I leave the credits here knowing fully well you will do your job well. In case you need it, I will also leave behind any additional details on these mighty beasts. And of course, I’ll leave you with details of whom to contact once you’ve completed our contract, and are ready to head for Hutta.”

“Grattitude!” the Trandoshans raised their bone goblets to her, and she accepted the toast with a bow.

*

Mercy reached Barfelt’s Inn several hours later, satisfied with a job well done. The fireworks would begin shortly; Tusk would slaughter her ambushers, the messages would start flying in Republic and Shola’s HQs; and Goru would wake up in a dark basem*nt, knowing his deception failed. Her backup—the men she was supposed to rely on to get the package—would keep him under control, while she enjoyed her night out.

She asked the receptionist for Felton, and went up to his room to find him waiting eagerly for her arrival. She smiled more widely when she saw him, and he beamed in return.

He hurried over to her, all pretense at patience forgone, and presented her his lips at once, eager for their evening to get started.

She obliged with a smile, attacking his mouth with such a fierce kiss that he was breathless and trembling within seconds of starting. When she broke off to start stripping her plaything, she hit him with her ground rules. “I make the rules, I set the pace. You don’t touch my breasts, and you don’t pull off my clothes. Got it?”

“Yes,” he panted, eyes fixed on her.

“I expect a good time today. And I expect you know how to give me what I want.”

“Yes,” he panted again.

“Good! Now show me what you’ve got!”

*

Mercy left around dawn, having been treated to a rather sensual night. Despite being so hopelessly snared, and so easily, Felton knew his way around a c*nt. As a result, they were able to turn in about an hour after the sex stared, totally spent and highly satisfied.

It was as Vodim said: You could always trust a Zeltrons to satisfy you in bed.

She went to the Imperial Safehouse first, where she confirmed that the exchange had indeed been a trap, and the package not on site. Tusk’s Clan had left the planet immediately after fulfilling their mission, eager to bag themselves a mighty prize.

Still a little sore from last night, Mercy began to check if her own bait had been taken.

She chuckled with satisfaction; the Republic and Shola’s gang were close to a full-blown war. She had composed a message for the Republic base, telling them that Shola was negotiating with the Empire, and that she had been the one who had found out about the trap, then informed the Imperials.

Then she had sent a message to Shola, telling them that the Republic believed that she was in bed with the Empire, and that she had been the reason why a trap had backfired.

Of course, she had furnished both sides with made-up evidence that they would surely see through if they had a few days. But she’d put them on a clock. The showdown would happen, today.

She had a few hours now, and she needed to get the tough Weequay to talk.

“Hello again, Goru,” she smiled. He stared at her with real fear in his eyes. “Silly of you to try and betray us so… poorly.” She patted his spiked cheek. “If you had tried to act a little, tried to cry and whine like you normally do when you betray your former comrades, you might have at least concealed your own part in this.” She then pretended to reconsider her words. “Actually, no. I’d have seen through you no matter what you did. Why did you betray us now?”

“I couldn’t do this anymore,” he whimpered. “My info got a lot of my buddies killed.”

“Including Gustavo Ricci? The hero of Dantooine?”

“Yes… he was a good man. And he had a son. Giuseppe. He’s gonna grow up without a daddy now."

“I see. Well. If you answer my questions truthfully, I’ll put in an anonymous donation to his widow.” His head snapped up. "You can trust me. We always hold through on our bargains. We’d never get info, otherwise. Whom did you go to? What did you say?”

“I… I went to SIS. I couldn’t tell them the truth. I told them that the Empire wanted info, and were paying to get it. I told them you reached out to me because of my… addiction. That I no longer had friends willing to lend me money. They were suspicious, but they were eager to take you off the board long enough for them to negotiate with Shola. I think I’d have been put in irons eventually, but for now, they know nothing. Although… by now, I suppose they suspect I played them.”

“So, you told them nothing?”

“No.” He frowned. “What’s there for me to tell? All that would have done was dig my own grave.”

“For one thing, you could have told them about me. Or about our meeting yesterday.”

“They didn’t want to spook you. And I didn’t get the chance to report back afterwards. Your team got me the second I returned to my home.”

“Good. There were other secrets you could have given away. One of the people you met on more than one occasion was a Cipher Agent.”

“What did you just say? A kriffing Cipher?” His eyes went wild. “You gotta be kidding me!”

“Right. He died last month, but some of his work is still ongoing, and still critical. Others you met are also active spies; spies whom your info might have helped identify. Potentially even brought them down.”

His shoulders drooped, and a tear ran down his cheek. “sh*t… sh*t!”

“Don’t worry. I intend to keep my promise. There’s a collection for Andrea Ricci, and I’ll add ten thousand to the purse. I think your present from yesterday should cover most of it.”

“Sure,” he said heavily. “Not like I have any family. Just… could you let me die with my good name?”

“Well, why not? It’s not like I want the SIS looking into your past either. But it might be painful for you.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes as Mercy left the room.

Mercy addressed his guards. “Give him more bruises, make it look like he was really interrogated. But see to it that he’s in shape to ‘escape’ afterwards. We’re going to stage it like we caught onto his deception, and took him in for interrogation. He managed to break free of his bonds, but got killed in the escape. I’ll prepare the evidence. Sound good?”

Agent Tulip smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

*

Mercy stumbled through the streets, pretending to be sob like a frightened young child separated from its mother.

She 'tripped and fell’ a couple of times, really made a mess of her trouser knees. She ran into her room and activated her long-range communicator. Once it connected, she made a show of sobbing her eyes out while wearing a happy smile on her face.

“Mr. Grayson, Mr. Grayson!” she sobbed. “Please, save me! It’s a damned warzone out here!”

Keeper nodded and went along with her charade, slipping into a Corellian accent of his own. “Of course, Lizzie. Look at me. Look at me… I will get you out. I promise. Alright?”

“Thank you, Mr. Grayson! It—it—it—!”

“Please, Lizzie. If you can calm down for a moment… try to give me a gist of what happened. I need to know what I’m getting you out of.”

“You got it, Mr. Grayson.” She gave a mighty sniff. “The Republic garrison attacked a local crime family… I don’t know why… word is, the boss had something they needed. But… but I don’t think they found it.” She held up a small strongbox, about big enough to rest on her palm. Several of Keeper’s Junior staff took one look and began pumping their fists in silent celebration. Keeper’s eyes shone with satisfaction.

“Mr. Pidan is dead too. I don’t know who can help me! I feel so alone!”

“Don’t you worry, Lizzie. I will send our company’s VIP shuttle to pick you up. I thought it was peaceful there, I never imagined I’d be sending you into such danger for my foolish little errand. Sit tight. It’ll be there by morning. Can you stay safe until then?”

“Yes, Mr. Grayson.”

“Good. We can speak more when you arrive. I’ll arrange a vacation for you myself, as a further apology. I insist.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!”

“Farewell, my girl.”

Mercy stretched while still giving out false sobs for anyone listening. She packed her things eagerly. She had the rest of the trip to herself, and she knew just how she was going to spend it.

*

A few hours later

Sukiya Lio was surprised to hear a knock on her door. The blaster fire had sent everyone packing to their houses, praying that they saw another sunrise.

Waiting on the other side was another surprise.

It was the stunner from yesterday, the gorgeous redhead whom she’d hoped to hook up with. And she looked terrified. Without thinking, Kiya let her in at once.

“Sukiya, right?” she sobbed. “We f-f-flirted in the bar yesterday… I’m so sorry… I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go! Felton has disappeared, and Goru has vanished, and… I don’t know anyone else! I’m alone, and there’s fighting everywhere! I’m so scared!”

“Hush, hush now… it’s okay! I’m scared too.” It wasn’t entirely accurate. Having lived on Nar Shaddaa for a while, Kiya was confident she could defend herself from even a trio of invaders with her blasters. She wasn’t falling apart like this poor young woman was, all hints of the previous day’s vivacity gone.

“My boss is sending me a shuttle,” she whispered through her tears. “It’ll be here tomorrow morning. Can I… can I stay here with you today?”

“Of course, honey!” Kiya embraced her warmly, and the woman melted into her arms with evident relief. “And you can call me Kiya.”

“Thank you… thank you!” The woman gave her a huge, grateful kiss.

“Don’t mention it.” Kiya felt a little guilty, for getting turned on in this situation. “But since you’re here, what do you say we have some fun, like we were going to yesterday?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically.

“What’s your name?”

“Lizzie Simmons,” the fear slowly crept out of her eyes, leaving behind a tinge of excitement. “But tonight… tonight I’m just yours.” She giggled coyly. “I, uh… I like keeping my stockings and undies on.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen fetishes like yours,” Kiya laughed. “I can work with it. C’mon. I’ll make you feel warm and safe for the whole damn night.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled, and she gave Kiya another kiss, one which left her muscles more rubbery than jelly.

*

Mercy smiled triumphantly after disconnecting the call with Keeper. She had washed off the dye, and taken off the holodisguise. Or one layer of it. She now looked like Mercy Tanniels, Imperial Intelligence’s most promising new Agent, rather than sexy, vivacious Lizzie Simmons.

A part of her—her true self, which she had hidden away for several years now—felt disgusted for leaping into any random stranger’s bed, but that was the point of her persona. No one could trace her back to who she truly was. The girl whose name she refused to even think anymore. Sex was Mercy’s indulgence, and thus separated her from that past until she could safely reclaim it. Perhaps it might be imperative that her work as Mercy never got tied to her real name.

She only hoped she could go back to her true self one day, but she was beginning to dread that it was not the case. Perhaps Mercy was more necessary than she had expected. The other girl was not. Only her parents missed her. The rest of her friends had forgotten her, moved past. But there would always be a need for a Mercy Tanniels, someone who stopped the enemies in the shadows from gaining access to a top secret datafiles like it was a stroll in her garden, files which would have laid Dromund Kaas itself open to attack. She only hoped that if such was the case, she could learn to enjoy the mindless promiscuity. She was still a little conservative—and perhaps a bit of a romantic—in her true heart. A polyamorous relationship… she could never do it again. That time on… well, it had been special.

She shook off the doubts. This was not the time for it. Only her fifth solo mission, and she was already getting recognized.

She smiled with satisfaction. Her next job was on Ord Mantell. The members of an Elite Republic Unit had been left to die by the Senate, and they were not happy about it. Left to cool their heels on Ord Mantell, Intelligence believed they were ripe for turning. And they had chosen her to be the catalyst. It wasn’t the vacation she’d expected, but she knew she was going to enjoy turning the illustrious Havoc Squad, like it was a trip to the swankiest resort in the galaxy.

*

Chapter 19: Trial Run

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC,
Curovao, Brentaal IV

Mako followed Braden and Mark into the modest establishment. Jory held the rear, or to be more precise, he watched her six. She was the least capable combatant of this group… not that it meant much. Braden was a Bounty Hunter with years of experience, and Jory had fought as a merc in the Great War. As for Mark… well, she couldn’t really get a read on him. He talked like he’d only been in a few actual fights, but he moved with a deadly menace that made even Jory take a step back.

Mako was sure he’d tell her his story if she asked, but she couldn’t pluck up the courage.

I mean, I already asked Braden, but he just told me to go to Mark. Who the f*ck is that guy? I get ‘danger, danger!’ vibes from him at a hundred meters! And I’m not the only one!

They were all dressed with the word ‘covert’ in mind. Dull, faded clothes, smaller weapons, ponchos to hide the armor… but everyone noticed them. Everyone gave way.

“You sure this was a good idea, Braden? We were pretty conspicuous back there!”

“The Kid’s right,” Mark grunted. “I felt every eye in the city following me across the square.”

“Maybe don’t walk like you’re twice as heavy as you are. Your steps are loud. You’d draw less attention just by walking a bit more softly.”

He gave her a look that almost made her hide behind Jory. “I’m twice as heavy as you seem to think I am.”

“What?!” She didn’t think he was joking. “That’s impossible!”

“Only coz you’re thinking inside the box. Try outside. You’re supposed to be the brains of this operation.”

“I don’t get what you’re saying!”

Mark shook his head. “Not my problem. If you wanna know something, either figure it out yourself, or ask.”

“Jerk.”

“Snot.”

“Easy there, you two. Mako, if you’ve got guts enough to talk to him like that, maybe you should pick up the nerve to ask him what you’ve been dying to know for the past couple of weeks. You’ve got to find out at some point.”

“Sorry, Braden.”

“Now, I wonder where our client is.”

“Who is this client?” Mark asked. Geez, his deep, hard voice sounded so… droid-like!

“Some spacer. And don’t worry, she’s not late. We’re early. I like scoping out the meeting place first, in case of traps or double-crosses.”

“Sounds logical,” Mark muttered. He seemed to have a good deal of respect for Braden’s practical, independent mindset. And his experience.

“Don’t encourage him. He’ll pass his paranoid traits onto you, too.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Before Mako could decide whether to laugh or roll her eyes, they were interrupted by a dry cough behind them.

“Excuse me.” Mako turned around to find a colorful explosion of a woman standing a few feet behind her. “Is one of you Braden?”

“Who are you, and how did you sneak up on us?” Mako demanded amusedly.

“Not her fault you weren’t paying attention,” Mark grunted.

“Easy there, good sir,” Miss Colors held up her hands placatingly. “My name is Juniper McIntyre, and I’m the one who asked Captain Nico to find a few good Bounty Hunters.”

“A real pleasure to meet you, Miss!” Braden stood up to shake her hand. “These are Mako, Jory, and Mark. I’m Braden. You're early!”

“Nice to meet you all. Can I buy you all a drink? Consider it a bonus.” She waited for everyone to nod before asking the waitress to buy them a pitcher of beer. And a rose milkshake for herself. “Anything stronger, comes after the job.”

“Fair enough.”

“What’s the gig?”

“Slavers,” Juniper replied in a whisper. “The ones that call themselves ‘the Brothers.’”

Everyone felt a bit angrier at that. “Those guys,” Mark grunted.

“Yeah. Stop their operation here on Brentaal IV, save as many of the victims as you can. If you can gather any info about their activities here and elsewhere, I’ll forward it to the authorities. And hand over any rewards they offer for it. I don’t know how many Brothers there are, but you should be able to turn them over to the Republic for an additional bounty. I can transport them for you.”

“Where’s their base? What kind of numbers have they got?”

“I saw them getting out of a cab full of kids outside warehouse Desh-1331. It’s big enough to hold… well, I guess you could fit at least a hundred people, if you were packing them tighter than sardines. But you’d need at least ten guards, and ten more to run errands or whatnot. The layout is probably standard, since that entire sector was built in one go.”

“Did you try getting your hands on the schematics?”

“No. With these guys, I was worried they’d notice when someone did that.”

“Smart,” Mark conceded. “If only you’d been smart enough to pick a better, quieter location. The Brothers would’ve noticed us come in. Or me, at least.”

“Yeah,” Juniper looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t think you’d stand out quite like you did. I’m… a bit more vulnerable than I was last year.”

It was only then that Mako noticed that she was heavily pregnant. She’d not realized, she thought furiously, as she wasn’t paying any attention at all! It’s not like the woman was obese enough for that baby bump to go unnoticed! “Oh my god! We gotta take care of her!” She looked at the other woman. “Why did you get into such a mess now, of all times?”

Juniper looked back guiltily. “Many of the victims were kids. I couldn’t look away. Not even now.”

“Don’t worry,” Braden soothed both women. “We’d be happy to put some protection on you for no charge, considering the money you’re paying us. Jory and Mako can stay behind to watch over you. Mark and I will take the warehouse.”

“I want to take the kid with me,” Mark said softly. “I’m still new to my own implants. And I have no clue how to slice or research.”

For the first time, Mako felt like she was on the same page as her broody new teammate. “I love this idea!” she said, forcing her volume low, as she didn’t trust herself not to shout in excitement. “I’m ready for action, Braden! Just let me out there, and—”

“I don’t think so,” Braden shook his head. “You’re still just sixteen.”

“I’ve seen twelve-year-olds who were forced to fight,” Mark argued. “Mako ain’t gonna stay a kid forever.”

“And she needs to get her feet wet, I hear you,” Braden conceded. “If this was a simple gig, I wouldn’t mind. But you’re up against an unknown, possibly entrenched enemy who might know you’re coming.”

“That’s why we need to hit em fast,” Mark asserted. “I’ve seen her slice secure systems in seconds. She’s excellent for tactical awareness. We can’t trust comms to remain secure with the equipment we have, except for short-ranged ones. She can lead me to the security room or something, and guide me around from there. Maybe she can even seal the enemy in their bunks. We’ve got a lot of ‘merchandise’ that can and will be used as hostages, if things go wrong. I’d rather take an eye in the sky than an extra gun or two.”

“I promise I’ll be careful, Braden.”

“I carry personal shield generators for sticky situations,” Juniper cut in. “Oh, and a stealth field generator too! I don’t mind letting you have them as an extra bonus.”

“You’d do that?”

“I’ve always had a soft spot for kids. By which I mean the victims, of course,” she told Mako placatingly. “It’s a loss I’m willing to bear. I’ll make up for it somehow.”

“Hey, I’m not offended! You’re looking out for me, without holding me back. I’m grateful.”

“Was that a dig at me?”

“No it wasn’t. I love you, Braden. You’ve always looked out for me, and I appreciate that. But I want to prove myself to you in the field.”

“So be it. It’s like Mark said… you’re not the youngest person to be forced to fight.”

“That settles it, then!” Juniper slipped off her bracers and a gadget on her belt. “Here,” she passed them to Mako. “Use them in good health. Stay safe out there.”

“And about the bonus, you can take it out of my share,” Mark offered. “Since I was the one who wanted Mako along in the first place. Besides, I can see you’re not exactly swimming in wealth. These things ain’t cheap.”

“They’re 1,200 credits total. If I deduct that from your share—”

“I’ll only get 600 credits. I can live with that. What I can’t live with is the thought that I ripped off a decent client. I treat respect with respect.”

Braden grinned at him. Mako was also touched. Maybe there was more to this guy than met the eye.

“Thank you. I’ll give you the coordinates to my docking bay. And my personal comm. Call me if you need extraction. We’ll be standing by.”

“Got it. C’mon, Mako. We’re headed back to the storage first.”

*

Once they reached the storage unit, Mako began talking equipment. “Are you picking up the assault cannon? Or the flame-thrower?”

“Nah, it’s too noisy and messy. Plus, I don’t wanna hit the victims by mistake. No, I’m taking the dart guns, nets, hatchet, and daggers.”

“Excellent choices.”

“You decide what you’re taking?”

“Shotgun and semiautomatic.”

“Very good. Also keep a heavy blaster on you, just in case you need power and accuracy.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I can only carry so much on me, if I’m also carrying spikes and a stealth field generator.”

“Hmmm, point taken. Alright, I’ll just try to keep all focus on me.”

“Are you sure you can do this alone?”

“That’s what they built me for.”

“They? Built?”

“You still haven’t asked, have you? Never mind. You need to know. I’m an escaped test subject, for a Republic program called the ‘Power Guard’ project. I was a prototype of the Mark-IV line of Guards. Hence the name.”

“What?!” Mako almost shouted. She looked around furiously before whispering “And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

“You didn’t ask. I kinda wanted to wait until you did.”

“So what’s a Power Guard? How are you different from the rest of us humanoids?”

“Power Guards were supersoldiers designed to fight Sith. Or Force users in general. Hence the name. Tacky, isn’t it? Force, Power… anyway. A regular humanoid can’t do that, not unless the Sith are tired or wounded, or we’ve got the drop on them. We’re not fast enough, not strong enough, and our reflexes are too slow. In order to be able to compete, they needed a stronger breed of bruiser. Built from the ground up.” He looked at her. “Remember what I said about being twice as heavy as a regular humanoid? It’s coz my bones and muscles have been replaced. Painfully. They’re denser, tougher, and stronger. They don’t break or tear easily. For whatever reason, the anesthetic wasn’t enough to knock me out. I felt every minute of it.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Now you see why I didn’t want to tell you until you were ready?” He laughed humorlessly. “I also had most of my nervous system replaced. My brain was enhanced to work faster and comprehend more. As were my senses. I have an in-built rig that administers kolto, stims, and adrenals into my system as required. And of course, I have cybernetics that aid in aiming and analysis. If I’m near Republic systems, I’m allowed low-level access to records. To wrap it up in a neat parcel, I’m fast, strong, and efficient. I don’t know if I can take on a Jedi or Sith, even with my enhancements. But I’m more than a match for a small group of thugs that only targets the weak.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

“‘Got it’ is sufficient. Hope you don’t get nightmares from this.”

“I will. f*ck the Republic. I can’t believe they’d do this! Don’t they love claiming that they’re the good guys?”

“To be fair, this was a darker-than-black op. I doubt many know about it. I wonder if the vaunted Jedi do. If they did, if this program was okayed by people who actually matter…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. His expression was plenty. Mako swallowed. Suddenly, the Palliduvan looked even more menacing to her.

*

Mako knelt down next to the access as covertly as she could. Mark was pretending to take a leak about ten meters away, using his intimidating aura to draw attention away from her. It was a nice idea. He’d also insisted that they not walk together once she slipped into her disguise. She was surprised he could come up with ideas like these.

I guess he’s not just some laser-brained, money-grubbing, gormless goon after all.

Once she finished, she got up and stretched. She turned and caught Mark’s eye, and tossed him the agreed-upon signal.

He went straight for the newly-unlocked back door. Mako gave him ten seconds before following. She entered just in time to see him casually knocking out a creep in Brother uniform.

There was another sh*thead already on the floor.

“You did this in five seconds?”

“The client wants as many kids saved as possible. So do I, for that matter. Can’t do that if we triggered an alarm within seconds of entering.”

“Right. You have a soft spot for kids, or hate slavers?”

Mark seemed to consider that. “Both. But kids’ welfare takes priority.”

“Got it.” So he wasn’t completely heartless, either. Now that she was spending some quality time with him, she could see he had his good points.

So why was it her instinct was still blaring warning bells?

*

Ignoring the many inputs from his cybernetics had become second nature to Mark. They had their uses, but they could be distracting too. Their constant subsonic bips and boops gave him constant migraines.

But for now, he was grateful for the constant info they fed him. They had helped him pick out these two slavers, and suggested just how much force to use to subdue them without killing them first.

And he wanted to take them alive.

“The central computer is in there,” Mako whispered, pointing at a door that was slightly ajar. “This isn’t exactly a military fortress, so all major systems should be tied to this hub.”

“Alright.” Mark entered the room to find it manned by a pair of Astromechs and one protocol droid. He drew his blaster and fired three times. Each shot hit a target right in the head.

“Nice aim.” Mako sat down behind a computer and began slicing at once. “So… we only got fifty prisoners in here today, but we’ve got records for almost seven thousand more, including several hundred on this world alone.” Mako looked at him. “They’re using this world like a hub.”

“So this is just a warehouse?”

“One of the lesser ones too. The main one… it’s a remote estate. It is a fortress.”

“How many hostages does it have?”

“Not many, but they’re all being brought in today. Every last one on this world.”

“Any indication they’re looking into us?”

“Searching now… no. Lots of underworld activity here on Brentaal IV, and Bounty Hunters tend to go for minor thugs. We’re good. In fact…”

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we need all hands on deck here. We need to storm the estate, and time it so we take down all the major Brothers here.”

“If we do that with just the four of us, we’re liable to get kids killed. Worst case scenario: all of them. The client won’t be pleased.”

“Oh… right.”

“Still. The job is to halt operations on Brentaal IV, if we can.”

“You got any ideas?”

“What sort of scans do they run on their own? What’s their security like?”

Mako typed. “Nothing special. A list of unique passcodes—which I now have. That’s all. They also have codes tattooed onto their forearms for ID, but that’s something for their truly secure bases, like Mek Sha or Ryloth.”

“Good. Check out the two I knocked out. Get their codes.”

“Ahhh. We infiltrate as Brothers, then?”

“Right. I’ll dispose of the bodies once we’ve stripped them.”

Mako snickered. “You said ‘stripped!’”

“I’ve no idea what you’re trying to imply.”

“Seriously? Never heard of a double-entendre?”

“Oh, it’s one of those, was it? I was a lifelong refugee, kid. The super undesirable kind. I didn’t have many friends, or even acquaintances to speak to for twelve years, except a pet zhmorkel. Yellow teeth. Smell that could knock out a rancor. Matted hair.”

Mako felt a little squeamish. “I get the picture.”

“There’s a lot about civilized conversation that I don’t understand. Heck, it was only a few days before my procedure that I finally got laid. She was a nice woman, but I guarantee she’d have puked and run if she’d met me last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

*

Mako did her task silently, scanning the codes on the unconscious goons. Once she was done, Mark took off their clothes and slit their throats.

“I didn’t want to kill em,” he muttered.

Mako was starting to feel so bad for how she felt about this guy. She’d seen homeless like he described, back on Nar Shaddaa. They were truly the lowest of the low, people who couldn’t fall any further down.

Yet Mark clearly had. This grotesque ‘Power Guard’ program. It had given him a bit of hope, then torn it out of him so hard, it had left a brute of a man that was this close to becoming the bitterest of the bitter. She’d noticed his paranoia, his blithe resignation to the belief that everyone would either let him down one day, or stab him in the back. And it was no surprise at all.

He’d not had a single friend in twelve years? How did one manage to live like that? How did they cope? Mako’s head reeled away from that startling revelation. She needed to talk. A lot. And she needed to be talked back to. She needed her Bradens and Jorys and Annulis and even the Qyzens.

“What kept you going all these years?” she asked him. “Why didn’t you consider… well. Ending it?”

“Life’s ultimate cruelty. Every time I came close, it gave me reason to live. A dangling fruit, to tell me that a better life wasn’t far off. A nice person, a random kindness. An old Jedi who took the time to get me cleaned up and fed. She gave me what little money she had, hoping it would help me start a new life. I used it to get a few decent clothes and toiletries, then applied for an apprenticeship. But it went under a few weeks after I joined. Old Karl was killed by a rival businessman. Only job I ever had. No one else was willing to take me, so I fell back into old habits. Kept wishing I’d bought myself a few more good meals, instead of wasting it on an uncertain future. Waste of good money, a real waste.”

“I’m… I’m glad you’re here now, though. I don’t think we could do this mission without you. Or dream of the Hunt.”

“You don’t have to force it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Maybe just that first part.”

Mako hated how right he was.

“I’m not trying to be your family. We’re just working together. But don’t worry. I’ll look after you for as long as we are. I’ll treat you fairly, so long as you’re doing me the same courtesy.”

“Got it. And we’ve got it. Here’s that one’s passcode, here’s the other one’s.”

“Get into a uniform. We’ll wait together to move out. Once we’re at the main compound, we work on taking out all the slavers. Quietly. Here, let’s sync up our cybernetics, so we know which ones we are.”

“Got it. You know, you seem to be quite good at this tactical sh*t.”

“Had a lot of info printed into my brain. I hope to show those mad scientists just how bad an idea that was, someday.”

“Ouch. You’re a perfect example for why only idiots do sentient experimentation.”

*

The infiltration was much smoother than Mako had hoped. The Brothers didn’t have any scanners, or any security measures other than the passcodes.

Minutes after disembarking, Mako found Mark, and the pair went to the Central Control. Mark disabled the guards and stood watch while Mako began sealing off the Brothers’ living quarters and armories before discreetly disabling all comms.

“All done,” she told him.

“Good. Then we don’t need these anymore.” Mark discarded his uniform. All of it. Tossed it aside like it was crawling with maggots. “I’m gonna start taking out the slavers. You disable all the automated guns and sh*t, then call in the client.”

“You know, this part would be easier if you kept the uniform on.”

“Duly noted. Stand by to unseal doors when I get to them, in case I need to store bodies.”

There was nothing to do now, so Mako entertained herself with some satisfaction. Mako had complete control of all systems, including surveillance. She cycled through the various cameras, waiting for the Brothers to notice that something was off.

No one did.

At least, not until Mark got to them. She thought she understood why the Palliduvan had declined the option t o use stealth. Anyone who shot at him missed by a meter or more. His enhanced reflexes were no joke, she realized. She recalled that he’d been designed to fight Sith, after all. This was the bare minimum she should’ve expected.

Mark fought with a blaster in one hand, and a hatchet in the other. He ran at each group of slavers at a full gallop, sometimes with a loud warcry that startled and frightened the enemies.

These f*ckers are nothing more than bullies. They know only how to prey on those that can’t fight back.

Mark did not hold back anymore. Most of his kills were with his hatchet. Mako felt some strange mixture of horror and pleasure as her partner closed in on the screaming scum as they fired at him, knocked guns out of hands, then executed each one by burying the axehead in their skulls.

Once he was done, he opened the sealed rooms to take care of the Brothers screaming to get out.

So much for not wanting to kill anyone. He’s doing this as brutally as he can.

“Mako, do you copy? This is Braden. We’re approaching your coordinates.”

“Ah, great timing. We’ve taken down the defenses, so you can just land with the rest of the ships.”

“We’ve got just enough room for a hundred freed slaves up here—”

“Maybe we can steal some of their ships? Braden, you and Jory know how to fly, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that could work.”

“Alright. Come in for a landing, we’ll get to the prisoners.” She hailed Mark. “Hey, Braden’s almost here.”

“I’ve finished killing everyone except for the leaders, but I’m covered in blood. Do you think you can get the slaves to safety by yourself?”

“Done.”

“And don’t wait for me. I’ll take one of their speeders back to Curovao.”

*

By this time, Mako had finished slaving the computer to her wrist comm. Just in case, she activated her stealth field generator and made her way out of the room.

She did run into a few thugs who weren’t fully dead. Most were nearly there, but one noticed her when she slipped on a puddle of blood. She activated the shield just in time. She traded shots with the dying Brother, nerves reducing her accuracy. She finally got him in the eye before her shield ran out. She got up with a loud sigh.

Shooting under pressure was hard. There was almost no point in using her stealth field generator again, as she was now leaving behind bloody footprints. Almost. It would still be enough against those who were too distracted.

Most of the victims were being kept in the warehouse. Mako let herself in, hoping they wouldn’t just attack her on sight.

“Hello?” she said uncertainly. A hundred pairs of eyes regarded her fearfully. The whole place smelled, but not so bad as it could’ve. There were a bunch of caretaker droids keeping them clean, healthy, and fed. So that was something. “Umm. Excuse me, everyone. My name is Mako. I’m not with the Brothers. I’ve… umm.” This was a bad idea. She was starting to get nervous, all those eyes pointing in her direction. “Ummm…”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, Mako.”

Captain Juniper walked past her and beamed wide. “I’m Juniper,” she introduced herself, looking around. “This is Mako, the big guy is Jory, and the grampa is Braden. We’re here to take you home.” She beckoned them forward.

No one moved for a minute, but Juniper continued to wait patiently. “It’s okay,” she said every so often. She laboriously lowered herself onto the floor despite Braden’s protests and held her arms wide.

Soon, several of the victims started crying. A few younger ones ran up to her and allowed her to hold them. “That’s it,” she said encouragingly. “We’re going to get you outta here. My ship is nearby. We can take you to the warden’s office and help you start looking.”

More and more of the children were starting to pluck up the courage to move. Mako felt relieved. “You calmed them down with just some positive energy and a big smile? Looks like you’re gonna be a pretty good Mama,” she told the spacer, who beamed appreciatively.

“Thank you!”

“Let’s get moving,” Jory said gently. “The sooner we get everyone safe, the better for them. I’m sure their families miss them.”

Some of the children managed to cheer.

*

Once the kids were safely away, Mako went looking for Mark. Jory and Braden both tried to warn her not to, but she felt compelled to wait for her partner.

She wished she hadn’t. “Mark! What’re you doing?”

The Palliduvan turned around. He was covered in blood. “Mako. I thought I told you to head back to Curovao.”

The bloodied corpses of several leaders were messily spread out before him. They had died painfully. Only two were left, and they wailed at Mako.

“He’s gone made!”
“Save us!”

“Quiet, filth.”

Mako shot them before Mark could continue.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

He pointed at the holo camera. “Sending a message,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. It’s only transmitting video.”

“Whom are you sending a message to? Why?”

“The rest of their organization, of course. They’ll think twice before returning to this sector.”

“You think this is gonna stop them? They’ll just be more cautious from now on! Catching them will get much harder!”

“Did you transmit that data to the Jedi?”

“Well… yeah…”

“Then they’re going to feel the pinch no matter how gentle we are. They’re gonna go underground, amp up security, and be more subtle. This way, they do so feeling a bit of fear.” He hit a button, and the transmission stopped. He turned to Mako. “Anything left to do on your end?”

“I’ve fried all cameras and mics in the base. The Republic will go over what’s left, but they won’t be able to tie it to us.”

“Good.”

“There’s a fresher over there.”

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? Wash that blood off! Unless you want to be arrested in Curovao. Dammit, if only we had time to clean the blood off your armor… we’ll just have to discard it. Buy you new armor. Why not? The old one wasn’t very cool anyway.”

“Fine.”

“Two minutes. Then we’re heading out.” Mako inadvertently looked at the guts-covered floor, and preceded Mark into the fresher so she could hurl.

*

Adjesk, Corulag
A few days later

Juniper entered the inn they were staying at. She looked like she had good news to share.

Mako went to hug her. “Awww, good to see you too, Mako!”

“I wish we could take you with us,” Mako said in an undertone. “I had no idea how much I was missing female company.”

“You’re always welcome to join me, though!” the pregnant woman said kindly. “But you know I can’t join you. Even if I wasn’t days away from having a baby, I’m no fighter.”

“You’re more than welcome to go with her,” Braden grinned.

“I can’t do that,” Mako shook her head. “I can’t just leave you, without having repaid you for everything you did for me, first.”

“Sure you can! Just repay us later!”

<Besides, not everything is about evening scales> Jory interjected. <Sometimes, we do things because we care. Help friends. Shelter orphans. Raise children. Spreading goodwill for its own sake. Like our dear client here.>

“That’s so kind of you to say,” Juniper beamed. “I try my best. I’m not a saint, but I try my best.”

“Did the Republic send you any follow-ups?” Mark asked.

“A few. It was a good idea to send an alert to Grand Master Shan.”

“That was your idea,” Mako interjected.

“Well, it was her homeworld, right? She extended a few rewards as thanks from the Jedi Order. Fifty thousand credits. I’ve come to split them with you—”

“You’ve already paid us plenty,” Mark interjected. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense! Bonuses were included in the contract, weren’t they? Besides, you and Mako were the ones who took the risk. I feel bad holding onto the lion’s share of a reward in this situation.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Braden said firmly. His team nodded.

“Alright. In addition, a few officials issued rewards for us. The Senator, the Governor, the Supreme Commander’s Office, and several relieved parents. Another twenty thousand, all in all.”

“That’s a lot!” Mako exclaimed. “It gets us to our goal, upgrade our gear, and still leave enough for a decent war chest!”

“Master Shan also offered me a few benefits. She asked if I was willing to have my name entered on the Order’s trusted spacer registry. I’d have to submit myself to a few security checks, but it’ll give me access to a few plum assignments and perks, like a fasttrack in all queues while flying for the Order. A few extra facilities.” She giggled and coughed. “She even noticed I was pregnant, and offered high-class medical facilities. I said yes, of course. I’ll be headed there this afternoon.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a better person,” Braden applauded. “I hope this leads to a better future.”

“Thank you. And you too. You saved thousands of lives. You should be proud.”

“Two more things,” Mark growled. “Any word on the freed slaves? And what happens to the Brothers?”

“Their operations were shut down in multiple sectors. Many bases invaded, and leaders captured. Apparently, they got a bunch of data that can help find more kidnapped children. As for the ones you’ve already rescued, many had families, but more didn’t. The Peacekeeper’s Brigade has taken responsibility for them. With their reputation, most kids should have houses within the year.”

“Good,” Mark said firmly.

“C’mon, one more round of drinks on me while we settle up.”

*

Mako was pleased with her cybernetics upgrade. She was able to process data nearly three times faster now. Even sweeter, she’d gotten herself some rad armor. Some nice food, a good pair of boots. And a few nice clothes.

Her companions, of course, had only gone for weapons and armor.

Jory and Braden talked excitedly about how they were ready to go to Nar Shaddaa, while Mark stood near the training dummy, familiarizing himself with the new weapons.

Mako studied the latter for a few minutes, quite aware that he was probably aware of her scrutiny. She’d learned enough about the man to have a bit of empathy for him.

But she’d also learned that she was right. He was a dangerous man.She no longer thought he saw the world without a lens made of ruthless calculus, at least for the most part. His compassion for exploited kids and hatred for evil spacers was the exception, but did not disprove the rule.

He was capable of dangerous levels of brutal violence. He may not be fueled by base greed, but rather fears, hatreds and vendettas. Which was worse. She wondered if Braden had made a mistake in throwing in their lots with Mark’s. But it only took a brief reflection over the past week for her to realize, that at least some good had come of it.

Even a man like Mark can be used for a good cause. Maybe I can make that the norm? I wonder if he’d be willing to go along with such a request? Or maybe… maybe, once the Great Hunt is done, I’ll take Juniper up on her offer. Yeah, that’s right! If I don’t like working with him, I’ll just part ways.

She sighed, feeling some of the load fall from her shoulders. She began going over the datafiles. If they were going to get on Nemro’s good side, they’d need to take down a few good targets on Hutta.

*

Chapter 20: Taking Every Inch

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC,
Uroboros Academy, Ziost

“… which tore down the great walls around King Isopus’ castle like they were made of rotten sticks and loosely packed mud. Even the proud manors and tall towers were not spared. Their rich ornamentry and clever construction did nothing to protect them from the might of Hord’s stone devouring spell. Truly, the Dark Lord was a Magician without peer.”

The Twi’lek sighed and closed the book. A soft, timid voice spoke from his left. “Are you reading one of those books again?”

Hekaten turned to see the girl who had spoken. She was short, despite being the same age as him. She was pretty, with short red hair and blue eyes. Her pale skin had a collection of tiny scars and blemishes, not counting her slave brand, which only made her look prettier in Hekaten’s eyes. “Kory. How long were you standing there?”

“I just got here two minutes ago. Don’t worry, I’d speak up if there was something important to say.”

“I know you would.” Hekaten picked her up to kiss her. “Don’t you worry, either. I won’t neglect you.”

She looked down shyly, but snuggled in his arms. “Thank you, Kat. That’s not why I was here.”

“Oh? What’s happened? Was your husband found?”

“Oh… no.” She looked away again. “Is it too bad of me to hope that he’s dead? I hate him. I prefer what we’ve got.”

“It isn’t. You told me he was a neglectful alcoholic, right?”

“Yes. Ron never even looked at me. I always wondered why they wanted us married. We didn’t have anything to give each other. It’s not like either one of us was heir to even a handful of credits. All I did was cook and clean for him. All he did was stop others from pawing me. Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. But… I wish he didn’t get drunk and hit me so often. And also that he gave me the kindness and love that you do. A few hugs every now and then. Even a little.”

Kory was a small and frail woman. This had led to her getting cornered in dark, friendless corners by several evil men and women in her past. This was the main reason why she was so timid, the other being the abusive Ron.

“Tell you what. The next time you see him, or any of the ones who assaulted you… rip them apart. You are a Sith now, after all. Even an Acolyte has the right to seek out revenge.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Alright. You don’t have to.” He held her in his arms and kissed her again. “But give yourself permission to defend yourself when they try. Can you try that?”

“I—of course. What… what about your wife?”

“Anneth… there’s still no word of her either.” That wasn’t uncommon. People rarely kept a good track of slaves. And enquiries as discreet as his never bore fruit. “I think the only ways I find her, are if I stumble upon her, or if I grow powerful enough that I don’t have to worry about being more open in my search.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

“They are safe for now. Darth Marr has hidden them away for me. You look a little skeptical.”

“Well… Darth Marr is… well, he’s a Sith.”

“I know. But he’s treated me fairly so far. He needn’t have saved my family, but he did. He only would’ve needed one, if he wanted to keep hostages.”

“Right.” She blinked. “You… you made me forget. I came here to ask you to help me again.”

“Of course. Come with me. Have you booked a training room?”

“Of course. Room 2.”

*

3 ATC

Because of the abuse she suffered, Kory was slow to learn. Her mind went to dark places every time she tried to focus. At best, she panicked and began to hyperventilate. At worst, the Force rebounded right back on her. This time, she’d lost control of Force Lightning. It had turned against her before she could turn it off. Thankfully, it had been a charge too weak to harm her.

“Ahhh!” she cried. The pain wasn’t too bad, but the humiliation of having been blasted off her feet by her own attack—despite it being so weak—was worse than the. “I came here hoping to be strong,” she whimpered. Tears streamed down her face, and she wanted nothing more than to beat herself into a bloody pulp.

“Get back up, Acolyte,” Miss Lowe said blandly. “Do it again. Listen to your anger. Give it form.”

“I—I can’t!”

“Perhaps she needs a break, Miss Lowe,” the purple-skinned Twi’lek suggested. “Or better yet, a lesson or two in what anger feels like. Her own, I mean.”

“Yes,” Miss Lowe had agreed. “This one looks like all she’s known is fear. And since you spoke up, perhaps you can be the one to teach her.”

“I suppose I can do that. Come along, Kory. Let’s get you checked out first.”

“It’s alright,” Kory protested. “I’m alright!”

“Don’t try to act tough yet,” he replied in a whisper as soft as the wind. “Wait until you’re actually strong. The Lightning has burst capillaries on your cheeks and neck. The blemishes—”

“I’m alright,” she repeated. But she was already starting to feel her opinion on the man changing. Despite his callous tone, the Twi’lek seemed to genuinely care about her well-being. Perhaps he was a good man.

“If you insist. But before we continue, we’re headed to the cafeteria. I want to find out what’s getting in your way, first. Otherwise, this pattern will repeat tomorrow. And tomorrow.”

“No, I can—”

“Come with me, or remain weak forever. It’s your choice.”

He got them two milkshakes, some simple stew, and a basket of bread. Once she’d had a few bites, he began talking. “I am known now as Hekaten. I’m going to give you a brief summary of my life—without real names, of course. Even ‘Hekaten’ isn’t my real name. Do you understand? But the story is real. I’m not consciously changing the facts themselves.” He waited for her to nod before telling her about himself. He talked for a good fifteen minutes, by which time the stew had gone cold “Now it’s your turn.”

She answered with a readiness that should’ve alarmed her. It had started with a reluctant basic introduction, but had precipitated into a cloudburst of tears and admission. She had blurted out everything. Nothing held back.

How she’d been orphaned in her childhood, and raised by her cruel step-brother and half-sister. How they’d foisted as much work on her as they could without killing her. How they scolded and mocked her at every opportunity, belittled her work no matter how hard she tried.

About how she was often picked on by bullies. Teased, pawed, pushed around, beaten… and eventually, raped. She told him how she’d been violated at least once a week till she’d gotten married to Ron.

After that, it had dropped to a ‘mere’ once a month.

And finally, she got to how she finally plucked together the courage to run away. She had run to a taskmaster, and begged for assistance. But the dirty woman had tried to violate her as well, as punishment for bothering her. At long last, Kory finally snapped. She had thrown the taskmaster hundreds of meters into the air. She had been flattened by her fall.

Hours later, a Sith had come to take her away. A Lord who served Darth Malgus. He had been verbally abusive, but he hadn’t tried to lay so much as a square centimeter patch of skin on her.

By the time she got to this point in her story, she was bawling her eyes out. As her emotions finally began to fade, she began to feel afraid again. She looked up at him, and flinched to see anger on his face.

But his rage did not seem to be directed at her.

She was frightened of him at first, as she was of anyone else. But she had quickly discovered what a gentle and kind man he was.

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” he said, face quivering with outrage. “If you’re willing, I will protect you until you are strong enough to protect yourself.”

“Why would you do that for me? You don’t know me. And you’ve been here a while already, haven’t you?” Kory had seen him before. He’d been here months longer than herself. Most acolytes started growing colder before the first day was done. Everyone only acted out of self-interest after the first week. Betrayals were commonplace after the second.

“You… I have a child out there, somewhere. We were separated shortly before I was found. I hope Darth Marr found him, but I won’t find out for years to come. I suppose you bring out my protective side.”

“What?” She’d felt a rare tremor of anger. And shame. “But I’m… but I’m… I’m twenty-four!”

“Is that right?” He grinned, looking surprised. “We’re of the same age then!”

“Don’t try to muddle the issue!” Kory insisted. “Do you always confuse people’s age with their size? Maybe I’m skinny, I’m not even that short!”

“Easy there. It’s not your size, but your bearing. Everything about the way you hold yourself whispers ‘Somebody, please help me!’ Even if you were lined and gray, I would still be reminded of my son.”

Kory’s anger slipped out of her fists like sand. “I… am I really that helpless? Do I broadcast my weakness for the entire galaxy to read?”

“Anyone would, had they endured the sort of regular abuse you did. I once knew a giant of a man who was even worse off than you… because he’d been raised on the same diet of abuse as you were. Even though his shell grew strong with age, he remained a scared child until the day he died of the beatings. He never fought back, never once believed he even could. You’ve seen Darth Malgus? Think someone taller than him, and heavier.”

“Is that to be my fate too?”

“No. You can move beyond it. You have the Force as your servant now. And, if you’re willing, you have me on your side.”

He had been by her side ever since.

He had held her whenever she wept, and protected her every time there was a backlash. He tried to help her through her traumas… but he was no therapist. Nor did they have access to one. They were in extremely high demand, and many were reserved for the elite. Acolytes with backgrounds like theirs, rarely got that kind of care. They were here to fill the gaps in the ranks. Nothing more. In the years before the war, the Sith would’ve executed them for daring to show any talent. Or so said a few of the more venomous overseers, anyway. Most of them were depressed souls who knew that training people like Kory was the most they would achieve in their lifetime. A dead end job.

As for Kory, she began to feel safe with her new protector. She started to hug him even when she wasn’t in a panic. She felt safe in his warm embrace. Happy, like she was wanted.

They grew closer over the next few months; he asked her permission to kiss her. She hadn’t hesitated. Then, one night, someone broke into her room, and tried to beat her up for fun. She managed to break her assailants’ grip, and ran straight to Hekaten’s room. Her guardian angel shocked them to a crisp.

“THANK YOU!” she gave him her first ever passionate kiss, attacking his mouth so hard that they both fell backwards into his room.

“Nice job giving them the slip,” Hekaten gasped, once she’d blurted out the story. “I think you should move into my room.”

“Thank you,” Kory whispered furiously. “Don’t worry. I’ll do all your chores for you. I’m good with those. I can cook, clean, wash, tidy up—”

“You don’t have to. You’re a Sith now—”

“Please. Just think of it as my love language.” She threw another furious kiss his way. “I love you. I love how you’re always helping me, even though I’m so incompetent—”

“You’re not.”

“It’s been four months! Four! And I haven’t improved at all!”

“You have improved. You throw more power into your blasts now. You almost managed four branches in your Lightning yesterday. Your last backlash was so powerful, I had to actually focus to protect us. And speaking of backlashes and duds… they don’t happen as much as they used to. Two or three times a session, as opposed to twenty-five before.”

“But I’m still so weak!” she whimpered. “I still need you to protect me!”

“One step at a time, love. One step at a time.”

*

4 ATC

“Nicely done!” Hekaten applauded. “Very nicely done! You are more than strong enough to graduate, now!”

Kory smiled at him shyly. “Thank you.”

Her attack was now strong enough to damage their targets, which meant it was strong enough to kill any armored soldier. And she hadn’t had a rebound in weeks. Her focus wasn’t as bad as it used to be, either.

“I love you,” she blurted out.

“I love you too.” He scooped her into his arms and twirled her around a bit. She liked it, when he did that. He kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“Will… will Anneth be mad when she finds out?”

“In our slave camps, we weren’t too bad to each other like yours were. But our taskmasters made up for it by giving us the worst, most back-breaking labor they could think of. I, Anneth, and all of my family, friends, and acquaintances, grew up trying not to deny ourselves anything. We take every inch of joy that comes our way. When the galaxy gave us a lemon, we made damn sure to juice it for all it was worth. I have no doubt Anneth would seek comfort in other lovers right now. Or even allow herself to fall in love again. I feel incredibly lucky to have found two women who love me. Don’t worry. She’ll accept you.”

“Taking every inch, eh?” she buried her right ear against his throat. “I like the sound of that.”

*

Kory was out by herself. She was now strong enough—and confident enough—that the Acolytes started leaving her alone. Even when she wasn’t protected by her angel. Which was a good thing; the Overseers had informed Hekaten and a few others that they were marked for something greater. Hekaten would leave Ziost within a month. Kory was glad that she was merely nervous by the thought of him leaving, instead of terrified out of her wits.

She entered the markets, looking for things to spruce herself up. A shawl, a jacket, a cape, an earring, a necklace, some make-up, or some nail polish. Things she’d not have dared to buy in her previous life, as they would have drawn attention to her. But she was ready to be noticed now. She was stronger, she was—

“Oooo, look what we have here, chums!”

Kory whirled around. She ducked just in time to avoid the speaker’s meaty fist. It collided with a metal pipe behind her, making its owner scream. She recognized Janet without any difficulty; her most cruel tormentor. And her cronies, Stewart, Jowan, Rion, Jill, Tara, and Luna, of course. Every one of them had… done things to her at least once.

Despite all her training, all her simulations, Kory was blown off by the raw fear these ghouls inspired in her. She tripped and fell, and began to crawl away as fast as she could.

“Dammit!” Janet looked at her hand, which was most definitely broken in several places. “You little sh*t! You’re gonna pay for that! Get her!”

Her thugs obeyed at once, jumping forward like a pack of kath hounds.

“Isn’t this familiar?” Rion shouted. “Kory running away from us!”

“It is!” Tara screamed in delight. “I’d started to miss this!”

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

“MIAOW!”

They cornered her quickly. Stewart tried to throw a punch, but Kory avoided it. Jill tried to kick her in the ribs, but Kory leapt back. Her luck ran out when Stewart and Jowan managed to grab onto her arms and pick her up. They threw her against the wall. The impact smacked the air out of her lungs. Thankfully, no one tried to hit her. Janet always got the first punch once their prey was restrained.

“That’s what you get!” the heavyset Twi’lek sneered. “You forget your old lessons since we last met? Did you think you’d escaped us just coz you got reassigned elsewhere?” She dug her good hand into Kory’s stomach. Kory… didn’t feel it too badly. Had the woman gotten weaker? No… no… her training was starting to kick in. Janet was now nursing her other hand, as if it had hit something rather harder than she’d been expecting.

“I didn’t get reassigned, you stupid blub cow!” Kory sneered. “I was freed. You just attacked a free citizen.”

Stewart scoffed. Luna gave a great shout of laughter. “Hey! Should we start taking her clothes off?” she suggested. “Let’s remind this tight bitch what her place is!”

“Yes, let’s remind everyone what my place is.”

Before anyone could even think about what she’d said—despite their addled, stunted brains—Kory released a weakly-powered Force Lightning into the men pinning her against the wall.

They leapt back with twin screams.

Kory thrust her palms out; all seven slaves were hurled backwards into walls. She pulled them back and smashed them into the ground. She Picked up Janet alone, and allowed the others to lift their horrified faces to observe as she pulled an iron fence post out of the ground and proceeded to turn Janet’s knees into jelly. The large slave’s screams echoed throughout the market.

Once she was done, she broke Janet’s other hand and dropped her into the dirt. “Well?” she called, and the cronies began making terrified entreaties for mercy.

“Please, have mercy, Kory!”

“Not ‘Kory.’ You know what I am now. Say it.”

They flinched. Several soiled themselves. Rion managed to speak up. “S-S-S-S-Sith, Lo-lo-l-Lord” he stammered.

“That’s right. I’m a Sith now.”

“Please, spare me, my Lord!” Tara screamed.

“Why should I? Need I remind you what you did to me? You’re the reason that I can’t have—”

“Please forgive me!”

“A slave does not interrupt a Sith Lord,” Kory snarled, and blasted her with a ball of Lightning. Her screams brought chills down her spine. “And you, slave,” she said, turning to Stewart. “Got nothing to say?”

But the pale human had courage. Or sh*t for brains. “f*ck you,” he sneered. “Once a Kory, always a—”

Kory made sure to set the Lightning so it put as much pain into his gut as it could. “Brave talk for a man whose trousers have sh*t stains. And you, Jill? Got anything?”

“We-we-we… we only did what Janet told us to,” she whined. “If it wasn’t you, they’d be picking on me!”

“Awww. Poor, poor baby. Thinking I’d forget what she did to me when the others were done.” She brought her empowered foot down on the girl’s flank, also using the Force to stop the girl from flying. Or passing out. “You always were a screamer, Jill. I’m done with all of you. You are only a third of the people who made my old life miserable, but this is going to free me of everyone else.”

“What are you going to do?” Stewart asked nervously.

Kory grinned. “I’m going to f*ck you up. I’m going to show you what you made me feel all these years. Every time you raped me, or beat me, or burned me. All of it.” The Mirror of Balance was a psychic attack that could only be used on someone who had wronged you, but it was perfect for someone from beginnings like hers. Which was why Hekaten had taught it to her. Kory had been apprehensive, thinking she didn’t have it in her to seek out even her worst enemies like this. But they’d fallen into her lap, and reminded her of her former life. And her very real anger.

She began weaving the Force, darning a net that would seep into their brains for the rest of eternity. She saw a black web spin itself into existence above her targets. She infused it with all the pain and memories she had of everything these filth had ever done to her. She was surprised by its potency; it had sucked out memories she’d even forgotten herself.

And at her feet, the victims continued to wail for mercy. She hesitated. Could she really do this?

She Sensed Hekaten emerge out of the crowd beside her. “Only do this if you want to,” he told her. “Do not feel obliged to do more than you will. A Sith controls their rage, their vendetta. Not the other way round.”

“I do want to,” she admitted. “So why am I holding back?”

“Because you are afraid of what you might become.”

“Should I be?”

“No. Not in this case. Only you know how much you have suffered because of them.”

“Right. Here goes.” She invoked the spell, and her victims’ screaming changed at once. It went from pleading to pain.

“Here, try this too.” Hekaten Wove something else, and their sounds were muted at once. “Silence,” he told her. “Robs the victim of the ability to make a sound. Unless, of course, you want to hear them scream?”

“I do not. As you already know. We’re done here.”

“Not yet. You there… these were your charges?”

A Taskmaster approached them gingerly. “Yes, my lord.”

“Who owns them?”

“Adasta Mining Corporation.”

“Tell their Master that they tried to attack a Sith Lord. They won’t be coming home.”

“Aye, my Lord.”

“Now, begone. Unless…” he looked at Kory questioningly. She considered it, but decided against too big a punishment.

“You were supposed to keep the slaves in line, weren’t you?”

“I—forgive me, my Lord. But I thought you were another slave.”

“I was, once. Now I’m Sith.”

He fell to his knees to grovel.

“Give me your name, and ID. I’m going to demand some sort of punishment.”

“Yes, my Lord!”

“You don’t have to ask him for that information. He might lie. You there, droid! Scan this man’s ID, send it to my datapad.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once they left the taskmaster behind, she whispered, “Were you following me?”

“No. I Sensed your distress.”

“Did you?”

“I was out buying you a present.” He held up a parcel. “I thought you deserved something nice as a reward for your progress. I got you the best bracelet I could afford.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I will never lie to you.”

She fought the urge to jump him. She was feeling a deep, unyielding thrill; one more powerful than anything she’d ever felt in her entire life. She was feeling a draw to her lover unlike anything she’d felt before. She wanted… she wanted…

Is this what horny feels like?

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I think I’m ready. I want you to take me.”

He chuckled. “I’m excited!”

“Come on. I have all this energy, and I just can’t wait to use it!”

*

They barely got into their room before the last of her restraint broke down. She began kissing him as fiercely as she had on the day she’d moved in with him.

He allowed her to take the lead, to go at whatever pace she felt most comfortable with. She surprised him with her passion.

Her tongue danced in his mouth, her hands clutched his jaws so tightly that it hurt. In a good way. She slipped out of her clothes like they were coated in frictionless gel. She all but threw him into their bed. The legs creaked in protest.

She tugged his pants off, and mounted him. He held her small breasts as she began swaying her hips. He kissed her every couple of bounces. She screamed like there was a speaker attached to her neck.

Hekaten started to scream too, once she was riding him so hard that the bed started another round of protests.

She finished a few moments before he did, going rigid as a canvas that had been suddenly stretched. She sagged in his arms, panting and moaning.

“How’d I do?” she breathed.

“The room… is spinning,” he replied. “You are fantastic!”

“Good… that was the first time I felt… was that?”

“Yes it was.” He kissed her hand. “You did well. I love you.”

“Hmmmm…” she checked her datapad, which was ringing insistently. “Looks like the Overseers heard about what happened.”

“And…?”

“They said it was conduct worthy of a Sith. I’ll be going to Korriban with you!”

“That’s wonderful news!”

“Isn’t it?”

“It is!”

“Are you ready for another round? To celebrate?”

“Start kissing me; it’ll be up again in no time.”

*

Chapter 21: The Jailed One

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

Three Weeks Later

Kory enjoyed the flight from Ziost to Vaiken Space Dock. They had been put on a three-star luxury cruiser, with plenty of room to stretch, and a lot of good food. The ship to Dromund Kaas had been a military one, but it too had given the Acolytes some measure of luxury.

But everyone’s high spirits had dampened the second they emerged out of Hyperspace.

“I think I understand why the Sith coveted this place,” Hekaten whispered. “I thought Ziost was strong in the Dark Side, but this…”

“Yes,” Balek agreed. “It feels so hot and cold at the same time. Like a bomb waiting to explode.”

“It’s making my head spin,” Niloc muttered. “I think I’mma be sick!”

“Try to hold it in,” their messenger suggested. “It’s bad enough you’re all from lowborn families. If you show even a hint of weakness, the sharks will gobble you up. Your shuttle is waiting in the Bay D-07. Can’t miss it. Leave this cabin, take the door directly opposite.”

At the end of their ride, they were greeted by a man who at once looked slimy, vicious, and petty. His skin was as pale as the underside of a slug, and his eyes were wet and dull yellow. But he didn’t seem all that strong. The only power that Hekaten thought he wielded was authority.

The rocky desert of Korriban was bleak and hot, and up close, it smelled like baked glass. Hekaten instantly felt sweat bead his forehead and lekku.

“Stay close,” he whispered to Kory, who nodded. To her credit, she didn’t shrink in his direction. She walked cautiously, but without showing any fear.

“Look what the slimehogs dragged in,” the man beamed. “A bunch of runaway slaves, who’ve been misled into thinking they could become Sith!”

“Watch what you say, Harkun,” a guard cautioned him. “One of these was found by Darth Marr himself. If even a whisper that you claim he lied gets back to him…”

The Overseer flinched openly. “Of course, I mean no disrespect to the great Dark Lord. The stalwart redoubt of the Empire. But they are slaves. That’s all they’ll ever be.”

“A grubby little slug is all you’ll ever be,” Hekaten grinned insolently. “I’d be more careful, were I you. One of us might leave with more power than you wield.”

“Watch your mouth, slave!”

“No, you watch yours, grunt! Do not pretend that you rank among the great and powerful. If you did, you wouldn’t be here at… what’s your age? Fifty-five? Sixty?” Hekaten wished this man would attack him. Students were allowed to defend themselves in such cases. The Rule of the Strongest was always upheld. If not, they risked losing talent just because the Acolyte couldn’t fight back.

The man called Harkun seethed with impotent rage, but backed down, lending credence to Hekaten’s belief that he wouldn’t be attacked in the open like this.

“You will die like a dog, slave.”

“Not before I make you my bitch, grunt.”

“You’re nothing!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it! Show us what it takes to be a great and revered Overseer at Korriban Academy!”

The Overseer reined himself in. Pity.

“No, I don’t need to touch you. The Trials will do that for you. Lord Zash has tasked me with sorting through you refuse to see if any are worthy of becoming her Apprentice. She’s given you the honor of setting a few of your trials herself. For your first one, she has demanded that you all make your way into the Tomb of Ajunta Pall. There, you will seek out a lunatic… I mean hermit named Spindrall. He will see you one at a time. That is all. Now be off with you!”

“You play a dangerous game, friend!” Balek cautioned him as they left the landing pad.

“I will not take flak from such a lowly creature again. Take it from me; the only one of us who’s weaker than him is Rilor.”

“Who cares how strong he is? He can make your life miserable! He can see to it that things get slipped into your food—”

“He can’t make such obvious moves. Anything that leads back to him—”

“Don’t be a fool!”

“Don’t be a coward! I came here to become Sith, not grovel at the feet of yet another Master! Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Hekaten left the dock first, followed by Kory. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked once they’d put some distance from the building. “You’ve never been this openly abrasive before!”

“Something about that man…”

“No, my love. It’s this place. It’s affecting us. It’s bringing out the worst in us. I don’t care if you become the greatest Sith of our age. Just don’t leave this man behind.” She slapped his chest. “Don’t become a man who can’t face his loved ones.”

“I—I understand. Thank you, Kory.”

“I love you.”

“Me too.” He embraced her. He scowled. “Something rises up from the depths…”

A group of seven large worms burst out of the sands. One end was pure mouth. They had legs like a bug’s. “K’lor’slugs!” Kory cried. She hurled a small stream of Lightning that froze a slug in place. Hekaten loosed a much wider Lightning attack, striking the other seven. They both pulled out their swords and started slaying the K’lor’slugs before they could recover.

“Go, go, go!” Hekaten screamed. “Perhaps we’ll be safer in the tomb. Out of the sands.”

“Right!”

Five more emerged from the sands, and chased the pair all the way to the Tomb entrance. They broke off once they were inside.

Instead, Kory was attacked by an even larger K’lor’slug.

“Eat Lightning, bug!”

“Thank you!”

“Are you hurt?”

“Just a scratch.”

“Dammit! We don’t have any supplies! No medpacks or food… not even water! And… and that’s not a scratch!”

“Keep your temper down,” Kory advised him. “It might be bad, but I’ll survive this.”

“Right… right. But what do we do? There’s no telling how long we’ll be down here, and I’m already sweating after our fight outside! We could take days to find this ‘Spindrall’!”

“There’s only one thing to do then,” Kory said slowly. Hekaten nodded. “Let’s see whose packs need divesting.”

“Exactly.”

*

As it turned out, there were hundreds of people in the tombs. Looters, hoping to uncover something they could sell. Escaped slaves. And fellow Acolytes, who weren’t always willing to stay out of their way. Some took an unhealthy interest in Kory, for which she showed them the error of their ways.

“I can’t believe we beat them so easily.”

“You call that easy?” Kory looked appalled. She had taken several more minor wounds in the tomb, including a deep gash on her left cheek. “Look at us! We’re already bloody!”

“Most of this isn’t mine. Look, this one had a kolto pack. Come on, show me your wounds. I’ll close them for you.”

She looked around, then took off her hood and cloak. She lifted the sleeve on her right arm, and rolled up the trouser on her right leg. Hekaten got to work as she kept watch on their surroundings. He kissed her in that spot when he was finished, causing her to yelp. She looked at him with smiling eyes. “You really want to do something here?”

“Why not? Korriban seems to be tugging at my emotions.”

She chuckled. The tension seemed to leave her in the span of a few seconds. “I’d love that. We need a break anyway. I think we’ve been at this for three hours.”

“Right. Come now! Dried jerky and cheap ale.”

“Food fit for a romantic camping trip!”

“My thoughts exactly!”

*

They made love after their brief meal, and took a brief nap. Once they rose and dressed again, they found that some of their former classmates had started catching up to them.

“Look at this!” Wydr said bitterly, his dry voice a rasp. “You two seem to be having a great time!”

“Yes we are,” Hekaten agreed. “We have to. It’s only going to get harder from here, even for an Overseer’s pet. This tomb is crawling with hostiles, and not many of them would have even heard about his petty temper tantrum.”

“He’s right,” Balek calmed his brother. “Besides, it’s well known that these two were sleeping together in the Academy. Why does it matter now?”

“Why? Because… because…”

“Kyle is dead,” Niloc said. “Got torn apart by those greedy worms before we even made it to the tombs.”

“Sasha is dead too,” Gerr moaned. “She got jumped by a deranged Acolyte. He bit her throat open! Used his teeth! Just what is it with this world?”

“Rydo is also dead,” Wydr reported. “A thug shot him dead.”

“Korriban has started to claim us already,” Hekaten growled. “Do you want to join forces? We can at least stay alive longer than a single trial!”

Everyone looked at each other.

“And don’t even think of crossing us,” Hekaten added. “You’re dead without me. Worm food.”

“We get it,” Jalla sighed. “He survived this whole time with just Kory for backup.”

“More than that, they got here in time for a meal, a nap, and a f*ck. I don’t want to die in this tomb.”

“Good. Now tell me; how many of you are missing supplies? Food, water, medicine…”

“Where’d you get any of that?” Wydr asked.

Kory raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think? We’ve been killing bandits and competition by the dozen.”

“You’ve been despoiling their corpses?” Balek asked in disbelief.

“You will die of thirst, you know. Or you’ll be too hungry to fight, at just the wrong moment. Stop being a wuss, and loot the dead. You can worry about scruples later.”

Everyone obeyed. Hekaten helped them dispatch another group of raiders, which left everyone with just enough rations for a few days. Everyone grudgingly ate their fill, but moods improved greatly once they were done.

“Unfortunately, you don’t get naps at this time. It doesn’t feel safe anymore.”

“Right. Let’s just get this done, so we can get out.”

*

The tomb was a large complex full of corridors. Many led into K’lor’slug nests, others led them into ambushes set by rivals or bandits. But with this many Acolytes working together, they did not pose much of a threat. It was only at the end of the second day that they all found their quarry. A servant waited outside the door. He told everyone to line up, and head in one at a time.

Kory was the first to be sent in. She walked down a long, smelly corridor to find a chamber filled with meditating humanoids. At the very opposite end was an old man who she assumed was the hermit they needed to find. “Greetings, Lord Spindrall. I am Acolyte Kory.”

“Come inside, Girl. Hmmm. I can Sense your power. It’s not bad. You’re well above the norm, but far from the top.”

“I can grow stronger.”

“That is for me to judge, and I’m not sure I like what I see. Oh, what’s this? Strange… it seems we have a test for you, one worthy of the occasion.”

“A test, my Lord?”

“Your past haunts you. It prevents you from taking your first steps as a Sith. Until you fully set it to rest, you will remain weak, pathetic, victim Kory.”

“What must I do?”

“Do you see the Acolytes around you? They were the bottom of the barrel. Failures. Rejects. It’s a wonder that anyone thought they were worthy of Korriban. But they can win themselves a second chance. By killing a current Acolyte and stealing theirs. We have someone here who’s well suited to be your test. Rattail! Bring Mouse lip in.”

Kory didn’t like the sound of this. She drew her blade and waited for her opponent. When he came, she almost dropped it in shock. “Ron?”

The Acolyte blinked, then gave a wide grin. “Kory? My Kory! Ha, it is you! It’s good to see you.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yes! I’m very happy. Lord Spindrall says I’m not very strong. But I have a chance to—”

“Yes, yes, I already told her,” Spindrall interrupted sourly. “Come on, now. I haven’t got all day. We have many more candidates waiting their turn.”

“Finally, my dear wife. You’re going to be of use to me at last!”

He attacked her without warning. Kory was too surprised to defend herself from the first blow. She was thrown against the wall with a lot of force. She fell cough and spitting blood. Ron was on top of her again, slapping her repeatedly with such glee on his blocky face as she’d never seen before. She began sobbing softly despite herself.

“There. I’m glad you remembered who you are.” He picked her up into the air. “But don’t worry! Here, a parting kiss from your husband!” He placed a very stinky kiss on her lips, tried shoving his slimy tongue down her throat. “Come, let’s celebrate! We never f*cked once, since our wedding night! Let’s do so again, now!” He pulled down his trousers and stuck out his manhood, almost thrusting it into her face.

But Kory—still gagging from his kiss—had finally remembered her training again. And he’d given her the most inviting of targets. She punched his balls as hard as she could. She even took care to use the Force to cover his penis so he didn’t piss all over her.

Since she had a grip on it anyway, she followed her attack by blowing his manhood to bits.

His agony was exquisite. He was rolling around on the dirty floor, screaming bloody murder. She Picked him up into the air and showered him with a stream of Lightning. He twitched and crackled. Flashes of light laid his skeleton bare for the world. Every hair on his head and body burned and fizzled away.

She let him down after several minutes, and invoked the Mirror of Balance again. He was left screaming like Janet and her thugs, though not as loudly.

“Very good,” Spindrall said mildly.

“There. I’ve passed your test.”

“Have you? He is garbage, and you let him beat you up. You let him force a kiss on you. You almost let him violate you. And while you have beaten and punished him, he is still alive.”

“I like him just how he is. He will never raise a hand to me again. Or anyone else. Your acolytes have learned that I’m no easy prey. And I’ve overcome my past. I’m ready to be Sith.”

“No, no, no, and no. Well, perhaps yes to the first. Ex-Acolyte Ron won’t ever hurt you again, I’ll grant you that much. As to the rest, the others know not to give you a chance to fight back. They won’t prematurely think you’re beaten, the way your former husband did. You’ve not overcome your past at all, just because you overcame one of your old bullies. It clings to you still, making you weak and foolish. And you are not ready to be Sith. You’re too soft. The Force is wasted on a small animal like you. I’ll inform Harkun about your failure. Go.”

Kory couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “After everything I’ve been through—”

“Yes. You fail here, like so many before you. You’re welcome to try proving your strength again. But this time, you’ll be facing me. I will crush you.”

Kory was hopelessly intimidated by the hermit, so she left without asking what was on her mind. What will happen to me now? Would she be allowed to become one of the many, lesser Sith? She didn’t mind. She could attach herself to another Sith, perhaps Hekaten. That way, they could remain together.

But she didn’t dare to hope. She walked out of the chamber, using a passage on the other side to leave.

*

“Ah. The last one. Welcome in.”

“Spindrall, I assume? Just so you know, a certain petty, grasping, bitter grunt out there considers you a lunatic.”

Spindrall laughed at Hekaten’s words. “Trying to turn me against him?”

“Why would I? I’ll crush him on my own, later. I just thought this made for a good opening salvo.”

“And indeed, it did. You certainly have the power and the self-assurance enough to become Sith.”

“That’s all I need. And my brain, of course.”

“Good. Never neglect that. Too many Sith out there end up thinking that their power is everything. Stand before me.”

Hekaten did as he was bid. Spindrall closed his eyes, staring at heavens-knows-what through the Force. Hekaten tried to follow his gaze, but found it impossible. The man was looking along the many twists and turns of fate.

Suddenly, Hekaten realized that this man was far more dangerous than he’d assumed. Spindrall chuckled. “So few notice what I’m doing. Zash certainly did. As do some others.”

“What do you see?”

“You are definitely worthy to become Sith. Your career will be more tumultuous than most. But at the end, should you make it, glory and riches. But be warned: your path will be paved with torment, horror, blood, and death.”

“Oh, goody!”

“Not all of it fellow Sith. You will betray, and be betrayed. You will love and hate. You will find riches and heights that you cannot climb, that you do not even dare to… and envy will forever eat at your insides. But I like you. You’re going to entertain me.” Spindrall placed a hand on Hekaten’s forehead. “There. I have marked you. I can now see you as you walk your path. Snippets and snatches only, alas. But it’s better than nothing. I have eyes and ears that will keep me apprised of your doings out there. Now go. I have held you up, long enough.”

“Thank you. I did not expect anyone on Korriban would show me respect.”

“Because most Sith don’t use their eyes, or their heads.”

*

Hekaten’s first look at the Temple left him paralyzed with fear and awe. It was a massive structure. He could almost smell the blood of the thousands of slaves it took to build this place from nothing. The stairs leading to the academy were lined by tall, faceless statues with great weapons. There was a giant obelisk in front, with an inscription which looked magnificent and daunting.

But upon closer inspection, it was gibberish. Someone had picked letters that looked vaguely impressive, as if to suit an aesthetic. Looking around, Hekaten noticed more of this incongruity.

“What’s so funny?”

Hekaten turned to find a familiar face looking back at him. He bowed. “Darth Lachris! It’s such an honor to meet you again! You look as beautiful as ever. I heard about your recent promotion. It’s well-earned.”

“Likewise, Acolyte. And thank you. It’s a shame I’ve no need for an Apprentice, right now. I could use someone who caught my Master’s eye.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, my Lord. You are more than capable of bringing Balmorra to heel.”

“I most certainly am. But capable allies are always welcome.” Her smile was friendly, Hekaten decided. She’d been rather disapproving of him on their first encounter, but then she’d been sent to Uroboros Academy on business. She had been quite impressed with his power. “Do be a dear and rise up fast! Make haste for Balmorra. I’ll have a nice welcome ready for you.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Now tell me. What’s so funny?”

“This script—” he pointed. “It’s a total mess! It reads ‘Abghhalaxblaghb…’”

“Does it now?” Lachris raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have to inform my Master. If you’re right about this, I will be very impressed. Not many among us can read this script. Not even Thanaton.”

“Can Lord Zash?”

“Hmmm.” Lachris frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever met Zash a few times. She’s an eccentric. Pleasant enough though. If she’s to be your Master, you’re probably going to find a use for any esoteric knowledge.”

“One can only hope.”

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you again, Hekaten. I won’t keep you any longer.”

He only walked a few more steps until he was stopped again; this time, by a pretty blonde Sith in red robes, whom he didn’t know. “Did I hear that right? You can read pre-contact Sith Hieroglyphs?”

“That’s right. There was a book I was trying to read back on Uroboros Academy.”

“Ah, I see. How fascinating. It’s a pleasure to meet a fellow scholar.” The woman curtseyed. “I will keep my eye on you. I hope you meet my expectations.”

Hekaten’s pleased mood did not last very long. The halls of Korriban Academy were full of dread and menace, and no one would give him directions to Harkun’s chamber. Finally, he found a droid that pointed it out for him.

“Ahhh, the last one to arrive,” Harkun grinned. “I’ve been waiting for you. Now, we can move along. Acolyte Kory, step forward.”

“Yes, Overseer.”

“You are a weak, pathetic rodent, and even a lunatic like Spindrall can see this. And that means—” He loosed a cone of Lightning upon her.

While it was weak, it was at point-blank range. And the startled Kory had no chance to defend herself. The Lightning strobed her unprotected body without mercy. Her piercing screams echoed throughout the chamber. She dropped to her knees, then fell to the cold floor. Tendrils of smoke rose out of her ears, mouth, and nostrils. Patches of her robe were burned, as was the skin beneath it.

Harkun looked at Hekaten with menacing triumph in his eyes. Hekaten looked back, trying to look as cool and unruffled as ever. Harkun noticed how he didn’t get a rise, and looked disappointed.

“Meet our newcomer, Ffon,” he went on gruffly. “He’s a graduate of Ziost’s Blood Temple Academy! The school for scions of old houses, those born with the rich blood of true Sith in their veins! This is real Sith strength, and he will tear you apart and crush your bones, slaves! Look on him! No connections left in the world, but pure Sith blood! This! This is Lord Zash’s future Apprentice! Not filth like you!”

“Ewww… you’re drooling.” Hekaten inched away. “Look, I get it. You want to get down on your knees and lick his co*ck clean. And his toes. But do so later.”

“How dare you!” Harkun shrieked. The Pureblood, Ffon, glared menacingly at Hekaten. But the Twi’lek had the measure of the Pureblood. He was nothing. Soft, weak. Had he really graduated from Blood Temple? “I’ll tear you apart, slave!”

He aimed a punch at Hekaten, who simply Threw him over his shoulder with the Force. He added a hard pressure on his shoulder blade, and the Pureblood screamed as a bone was dislocated and snapped.

“This is your new pet, Harkun? Was he really ready for this? It feels like he’s a bit green.”

Harkun raised his hand to slap Hekaten, but backed down. “It’s alright, Ffon. Stop screaming. I’ll take you to the infirmary. Unfortunately, cameras caught you falling for the beast’s filthy provocation, else we’d be able to report him. The rest of you; find your dormitory assignments on the table behind me. Get settled in. Your next trial begins in three days. Come along, Ffon.”

Once the Pureblood’s moaning trailed off, Hekaten quickly got to work on Kory. He ignored Balek and the others, who looked unsure about what he was doing. Surely it was not allowed? Wasn’t it the same as helping a condemned man escape execution?

“If you have a problem, leave!” Hekaten spat as he began administering Kolto to his dying lover. They didn’t need telling twice. “Kory? Kory!”

She moaned, but did not open her eyes.

*

Three Days Later

Hekaten got down from the taxi to the Wilds, only to be greeted by a large number of Tuk’ata. The beasts had almost overrun the taxi station, so he was forced to join in their eradication.

Once he was done, a fat Sith Lord waved him down. “You did nice work, Acolyte. Perhaps you can help me out.”

“Let me guess. You’re the reason those things attacked.” The Sith Lord was standing in front of a table that had several dissected Tuk’ata sitting on it.

“Indeed, they’re more closely-knit than I thought. But not a problem for you, right?”

“Not at all. What do you want?”

“There is a mutant Tuk’ata in the tombs. It is older than the others, and twisted by the Dark Side. It is a creature of the Dark Side, just like us. Albeit, much less favored. I want you to bring it to me for study so I can prove my theory.”

“What theory?”

“I alone see these beasts for what they truly are; pure expression of Dark Side energy; aggression made manifest.”

“You’re awfully enamored by yourself, aren’t you?”

The Sith didn’t seem to be listening. “I have gazed into the depths of the abyss, and found revelations there that others only dream of. The Force is alive, and it expresses its will in the physical form. The Tuk’ata is one such form. I have dissected hundreds of these, forging a direct connection to the Dark Side. Each beast I examine advances me toward perfect unity.”

Hekaten was finding himself less impressed with each word this fool uttered. “Where do you get all this free time?”

“You judge what you don’t understand, just like everyone else! I thought you’d have more vision.”

“Why? You don’t know me.”

“But you will obey a Lord, Acolyte. You will find my missing mutant, and bring its brain back for study. My Apprentice, Malora, saw which way the beast ran. Find out what she knows, and bring it back for me. I will have a reward for you.”

“What kind of reward?”

“I can offer you five thousand credits.”

Not bad. “Five thousand credits, and a copy of any tomes you have on Dark Healing.”

“Done.”

Malora, as it turned out, was a mouthy woman full of vitriol for her Master. “Seeking Lord Renning’s lost pet, are you? Don’t bother. The fool’s research is pointless.”

“So his name is ‘Renning,’ is it? Anyway, who cares? He’s offered me a little something in return.”

“So it’s credits you’re after.”

“Credits are nice. Knowledge is better.”

She blinked, then gave him a coy smile. “Ahhh… a fellow scholar. Well. You might not be interested in the same kind of work that I am, but perhaps we can appreciate fellow walkers.”

“Perhaps. So long as you don’t walk on his path.”

“Point taken. I’ll point out the section for you. Once you have the brain, bring it back so I can contaminate his evidence. If he was discredited, the Council would banish him. And I would be rewarded.”

“That’s a little unsubtle, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes, a bludgeon is just what the doctor ordered. And anyway, I have a reward for you too. I found these old tomes by Darth Hargus. He was a master of alchemy. Not my area of expertise.”

“Alchemy, eh?” It wouldn’t help him with Kory, but perhaps it would be a big help later. “I accept. Give me your holofrequency, so I can hail you when I’m getting closer.”

Her smile was a beam of dark sunlight.

*

The trial itself was surprisingly easy to unravel. The pyramid he had to unlock was similar to the one from Agraia. But larger. It wasn’t that easy though. It resisted his attempts to open it by pressing the capstone. No, instead, it needed Dark Side stimulation. Just a little Lightning, and some hidden mechanism in the vault gave him access to the Holocron within.

It was so easy, that he decided he could afford to go through it before handing it in.

Once he was done, he hunted down the Tuk’ata for Renning. Malora was delighted to be able to spoil her Master’s ambition, enough to offer him her body.

“Maybe later. We’re both covered in gore.”

“Yes, yes…” she distractedly rubbed off some blood from her face. “I’ll seek you out in the Academy when next I’m there. Might take a while, however.”

Hekaten returned to Harkun wealthier and better equipped, but the only thing the Overseer knew was that he’d passed. “You stole this from the Library, no doubt.”

“What a stupid accusation. Toothless, just like you. If you really believed that, you’d try to hand me over to the Inquisitors.”

Harkun glowered. “You will be contacted when it’s time for your next trial. I suggest you head to the dueling chamber. You’ve been neglecting your combat training.”

Hekaten reluctantly did as he was told, only to be ambushed by Balek and Wydr. The pair had apparently been promised safe passage off Korriban in exchange for Hekaten’s head.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Hekaten sneered. He caught them both in tight, vise grips before they had even made a move. “You’ve seen my power, right? The only reason you survived the tombs was because of me. Attacking me head-on was foolish.”

“We had to try!” Balek blurted out hopelessly. “We’re being massacred out there! And you couldn’t even protect your girlfriend! How were you going to protect us?”

“I wasn’t. Goodbye.”

*

A Few More Days later

This isn’t working, Hekaten thought desperately.

He hugged Kory, who was limp and nonresponsive. He’d managed to stop her from dying, but he had no idea how to save her. No one was willing to help a failed acolyte, so he was forced to do it by himself. He’d put her in a Deep Freeze to stop her condition from deteriorating, and then tried to look through a few tomes on Dark Healing, but he’d need proper study before attempting to put it into practice. He kissed her and rubbed her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered. Tears ran down his cheek. He hated what Harkun had done to her. He’d intended to avoid thinking of revenge until Kory was better, but it looked like vengeance would come first, after all. He kissed her forehead again, then her hand. He imagined her waking up, like some did in fairy tales. But she couldn’t wake anyway, so long as the Deep Freeze was maintained.

With a weary sigh, Hekaten left his room to receive his next Trial from Harkun. He was walking past an open door when the occupant called him in. “You there, I have need of you. Come in.”

“Who are you, and why do you have the authority to command me?”

“I am Inquisitor Urinth, and I have an interesting task for you. We have a Jedi prisoner in cell block Besh-9. His name is Quorian Dorjis.”

“Are you asking me to seduce him? Always wanted to persuade a Jedi out of his robes.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Hilarious. Some other time. Take some holos for me. No, this is a critical mission, and unfortunately, it requires a… fresh face. An Acolyte. Quorian has proven a stubborn keeper of his secrets, but he may prove himself useful a different way.”

“This sounds interesting.”

“It most certainly is.”

“Let me guess. You’ve fed him false information for him to take back to his little friends. Almost as good as getting something useful out of him.”

“Very clever. I’m getting a good feeling about you.”

“So you want a jailbreak.”

“Precisely.”

“Harkun has it in for me, and I don’t know my way around this place too well. If I get caught—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll write out a proper contract for you to sign, complete with a video recording of this meeting. If pressed, you will be able to extricate yourself. You might even gain some credit. Oh, and I’ll provide you with detailed schematics of the prison, to help get him out discreetly.”

“Good. I’ll see to this jailbird of yours.”

Hekaten’s mind was racing. Perhaps this was the answer to his problem.

*

Cell Block Besh-9

Hekaten entered the block and walked past the long row of cells. Some were occupied, some not. He didn’t need to consult his datapad to pick out the Jedi. The Force was a large enough signpost, especially in this stronghold of the Dark Side.

He found the cell, and waltzed in like he owned the place. “Hello.”

The Jedi was a human male. “Whu--?”

“My name is Hekaten. I heard we had a Jedi here. I was curious, as I’ve never met one of your kind before. You Feel very different from the others here.”

The Jedi looked dazed. “I’m sorry… I can’t… Just give me a moment.” He centered himself for a bit, driving off the effects of barbiturates after a few minutes. “There. Now my mind is less clouded. Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Can’t you just drive off the impairment for good?”

“I can, but it dulls the pain. It’s a win-win.”

“I like your optimism.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want to make a deal. One which ends with you leaving this place.”

“Of course.”

“My lover has been wounded. The Overseer deemed her unworthy, so he attacked her and left her for dead. And since she’s been discarded, the medical wing refuses to treat her. Despite my best care, she’s in a poor condition right now. I don’t think I could heal her. And even if I could… I don’t think the Sith life is for her. She’s too kind, too sweet.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s in my dormitory. I can break you out, and bring her to your ship.”

“And I could begin the process of healing her. There are Jedi Healers who can do the rest. But I don’t relish the thought of fighting my way out of here.”

“You don’t have to. The Inquisitor gave me full schematics for the prison block.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“Because she thinks I’m doing this for her. And her grand plan. You see… she wants you to break free. And go to the Jedi with the ‘crucial intelligence’ you ‘overheard’ during your captivity.”

Quorian looked at him with a piercing gaze.

“Like I said. The only thing I care about in this affair, is Kory. I love her. If you can leave with her, I don’t care about the rest. For her safety, I’m willing to give you the truth. Consider it part of the repayment.”

“What happens if Urinth finds out?”

“I can handle her.”

“Or, you could come with me too. You could have a new life, away from this evil place.”

“If I do that, I’d be abandoning the rest of my family, including my little son. We were slaves, until my Gift was discovered. But even though they’re free, they’re hidden. For their own safety, and mine. I have no idea where any of them are right now.”

“I see…” Quorian contemplated Hekaten’s revelations. “I understand the position you’re in, right now. I’m sorry for your troubles. Very well. I accept your terms.”

“Thank you. Kory has suffered a lot.”

“I understand,” Quorian nodded. “Well. I’m a Jedi. It’s my duty to help her, and all others like her.”

“Thank you.”

“I hid my Lightsaber and notes in the Valley of the Dark Lords. Somewhere in Tulak Hord’s Tomb. I’ll need the former to escape, obviously, but if you could bring my journal too, I’d be grateful.”

“Consider it handled. I think I have to be headed there anyway.”

*

Harkun’s Office

“Ah, the last one to arrive. Always the last one.”

“Hello, slimey. Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror? You’re not as intimidating as you seem to believe.”

“Shut up, slave!”

“Not very imaginative, either.”

“You’re digging your own grave!”

“Now that’s a little better. But not by much.”

“Can we move this along?” Ffon asked. “I want to get started on my next trial.”

“Of course, dear Ffon. Of course. I have assignments for all of you. And you Hekaten, get to tackle Tulak Hord’s Tomb. Lord Zash has commanded that you find all the standing stones in the many complexes of his tomb, then take rubbings of their inscriptions.”

“Is that all? I’ll be done by nightfall.”

“You’ll be dead by nightfall.”

“Look, by now you’ve got to know how this goes. You send me into a tomb, hoping it’s enough to kill me, and I come back, leaving you stammering with impotent rage. How does a Sith remain as lowly as you, despite having so much hatred and anger? It’s baffling.”

“Your death will be painful, slave.”

“Yours will be akin to a bug being squashed. No one will mourn your passing. Not even your precious Ffon. Will you, old boy?”

“I’ll tear you apart, slave!”

“Down, boy.” Hekaten hadn’t expected such weak provocation to work again, but it did. Ffon fell hard on his ass, and gave a great shout of pain. He began writhing and rolling on the floor, forcing Harkun to come to his aid again. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. I’ll head over to the tomb.”

“You’ll regret this, slave!”

*

Cell Block Besh-9

It was late at night when Quorian’s collaborator returned.

“Did you find them?”

“Here you are.” Hekaten handed him a small package, still roughly packed in the dirty wool Quorian had put them in. “I did pull them out to confirm the contents, but—”

“I don’t mind.” Quorian tested the Lightsaber as best he could without hitting the activation switch. Everything looked like it worked. “I’m ready to leave.”

Hekaten removed his restraints and deactivated the cage. “That ventilation shaft there is your escape route. It’s a bit of a crawl, but you shouldn’t have too much trouble with it. Here’s a map for you. I’ll fetch Kory and wait on the other side. I know where it heads out.”

“Good. I’ll see you again shortly.”

It took Quorian less than an hour to navigate the ventilation shafts. As promised, Hekaten was waiting for him on the other end. The Jedi was surprised when he saw Kory. She was much plainer than he’d imagined; not the sort of person he’d imagined could earn such affection. But the protective way Hekaten held her, and the tender looks he kept giving her, was enough to convince Quorian that he really was in love with her.

I suppose love isn’t influenced by looks, after all.

“Don’t worry. My ship had a fully-equipped med bay with a kolto tank. She’ll be fine.”

“I stole some kolto, in case your stores are insufficient.”

“Thank you. Now come. It’s quite a walk—”

“Less than it should be. I’ve procured a speeder for you. The defenses are deactivated for tonight.”

“Thank you. I will do my best to save your lover.”

“Tell her that I love her with all my heart. Tell her, I wish I could be by her side for the rest of my life.”

“I will.” Quorian noted again the man’s expression. “You don’t expect to see her again.”

“I do not. It’s a big galaxy. And my own path has many obstacles. There’s a good chance I will die before I can save my family.”

“If you survive… and if you need sanctuary…”

“I’ll remember, when the time comes. Farewell, Quorian.”

*

The Next Day

Hekaten met the pretty blonde again as he returned to Harkun’s office. “Why, hullo there!” she said brightly. “You seem to be doing well for yourself!”

“Hello to you too.” Hekaten noticed the Holocron attached to her belt. The one he had retrieved for his second trial. “Lord Zash.”

She laughed delightfully, and removed the Holocron he was eyeing. “When I heard someone had retrieved it, I couldn’t believe my ears. And when I heard it was you, I was doubly impressed. I had no idea that you were one of my prospective Apprentices.”

“I’m glad I impressed you.”

“Oh, but you did! Would you mind telling me how you opened it?”

“I shot Lightning at it.”

“Such a simple solution!” Zash exclaimed. “I wonder why no one ever thought of it before! We must’ve been overthinking it!”

“Or, perhaps, it was a blood vault. I might simply have the right ancestor, somewhere in the tangled web of my family tree.”

“Ahhhhhhh… that makes much more sense! Still, I’m intrigued you also knew about blood vaults.”

“The Uroboros Library has more interesting books than you’d imagine.”

“Fascinating! Perhaps I’ll make my way there, someday. Keep up the good work, Acolyte. I hope you succeed. I could really use a thinker as my Apprentice!”

Hekaten entered Harkun’s office to find him in an unusually good mood. “Still the last one, eh?” he laughed maniacally. “Such a shame, such a shame!”

“How can I be the last one, when your toy is conspicuously absent?”

Harkun looked like he was waiting for that question. “You took so long returning, that I sent him ahead. He’ll be halfway to Naga’s resting place by now! Your final trial, is to retrieve an ancient map from the innermost chamber of Naga Sadow’s Tomb, which has never been breached for thousands of years! You will need to awaken an ancient Dashade Assassin who sleeps before the door. You cannot access it without him. You are in a race against time on this! And against Ffon, who now has a considerable lead on you! The one who comes second, dies! Do you understand?”

“Oh, I understand, alright.” Hekaten chuckled uncontrollably. “Poor, poor Ffon!”

Harkun’s smile slipped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he has no way of knowing how to breach that chamber. You can send him in weeks before me, but without the information from Tulak Hord’s standing stones, he’ll just stare into the empty chasm separating him from the Dashade forevermore. Meanwhile, I’ll be taking the path laid out for me.”

“What? But… but…”

“Is your pea-sized brain struggling to catch up? I’ll make this simple. I know how to reach the tomb. Ffon doesn’t.”

“But… but… Ffon has already left! How can he complete this trial, if there’s a trick like this? It’s unfair! It’s—”

“It’s your own damn fault,” Hekaten told him. “If you’d kept him here, I might have told him how, just so I could make him beg me for it. Besides, when have you, or us Sith, ever cared about fairness? See you later, Harkun.”

*

The Tomb of Naga Sadow was full of Acolytes attempting to complete their impossible trials. It was a wonder there was anything left to find in these tombs. But then, the Sith did take pains to keep anyone from finding out their secrets.

Perhaps the Apprentices knew this, as they put up a fierce resistance to his entering the tomb. It was a real warzone in there. Force attacks, blaster bolts, and the occasional grenade flew willy-nilly in the stifled confines of the tomb. Hekaten had to keep his mask on at all times to keep the dust out of his nose.

Eventually, he reached a large chamber where the crowds dissipated. It was about time. He’d killed at least a hundred people in Naga’s tomb alone. This was also where he started finding the scepters mentioned in the standing stone. He found them all easily enough, with only insane acolytes and haywire droids guarding them. They were no different to look at than the ornaments held by the many statues in the tomb, which was probably why none had been stolen yet.

Once he had them, he searched for the secret entrance to the Chamber of the Dashade. He conducted the ritual in the same manner laid out in the tablet. He placed the rods in their correct receptacles, then meditated at the center. He Felt Power surge within his veins, a massive discharge of Dark Force that he could barely contain. Biting in a scream, he channeled it in the form of Lightning towards the rune on the wall. The rune shimmered and vanished, allowing him entry into the room beyond. As he crossed the barrier, he casually Summoned all rods into his hands. The spell lifted, and the door sealed shut behind him.

Now the only way out was through. But neither was there a way in.

Even if that man child Ffon got wise and decided to tail him, he wouldn’t be able to.

Hekaten found the Dashade crucified in a stasis bubble. It was a brutal creature, with a face out of nightmares. It had a lamprey-like mouth, and looked like it was made of hard, chiseled rock. The hands and feet ended in three-digit claws. It had a weight in the Force, which bespoke rage and hunger and little else. Perhaps a smattering of honor.

Uncertain of what to do now that he was here, he just said, “Hello there.”

The Dashade stirred. He looked around, and his eyes narrowed on Hekaten. He spoke in a tongue that had been long forgotten, but Hekaten had made sure that Dashadi was preprogrammed into his language implant.

“What is this?” the Dashade growled. “Has the whole galaxy conspired to mock me? Tulak Hord! I waited for you! I did everything you told me to. And this is what you sent me? Fate is cruel to me, Little one. But not as cruel as it is to you. You have made a grave mistake, in coming here!”

“Tough talk coming from a prisoner. If I leave you here, no one will know. You will be abandoned for another millennium and a half. Or more.”

“You do not scare me, wretch! I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, the Lord of hate, Master of the Gathering Darkness, Dark Lord of the Sith! Together, Tulak and I devoured our enemies at the battles of Yn and Chabosh, and brought the entire Dromund System to its knees! I now await his return.”

“That’s not how I heard it. Besides, didn’t you hear me? You’ve been locked away for over a millennium in here. Tulak Hord died a long time ago. He’s just a name everyone brings up from time to time.”

“No…” the Dashade shook its head. “No! It cannot be! Dear Tulak! If only I had been at your side, I would have fought the cold jaws of death herself to save you!”

“Why show him such loyalty? He locked you away. You were nothing more than a pawn to him.”

“You foolish little animal!” The Dashade fumed. “Impure alien, born from the loins of those who had slimy mud in their veins, instead of the power of the Dark Side! You do not get to judge the mighty Tulak Hord! I shall punish you for your insolence!” He roared so loud that Hekaten had to clap his hands around his ears.

The Dashade strained, and his restraints shattered. “I will devour you whole, little rodent!” It slipped and fell, its muscles weak after so long spent incarcerated. But it would recover quickly.

“Let’s see you try.” Despite his bravado, he was quaking inside. How was he supposed to fight a Dashade? These things were resistant to Force and energy attacks, and had skin thicker and harder than stone!

Left with no option, he resorted to desperate measures—he used a ritual from the pages of Freedon Nadd. He began carving a circle onto the ground, grateful he’d spent hours practicing as this gave him the ability to do so quickly and accurately.

The Dashade was almost on its feet again. Hekaten had to fight the panic back. Once the circle was completed, he drew a long gash on his index finger. As blood pooled onto the center of the ritual circle, he began intoning the spell. The Dashade rose up to its full height and prepared for a hammer strike.

He was just about to flatten Hekaten into the ground when the Twi’lek finished his incantation. The rock beneath the Dashade’s feet became a pool of quicksand. With a startled cry, the Dashade started to sink until only his head was above the ground. No matter how much he struggled, the tar-like substance constrained like an elastic sack.

“Submit,” Hekaten commanded.

The Dashade growled for a moment. “I… I submit.”

“Swear yourself to me, in Urkupp’s name.”

“I, Khem Val… submit to you, as a loyal son of Urkupp. I will serve as your bodyguard, your chief warrior, and your shadow-killer. I am yours to command.” The oath was simple, but was made binding by the Dashade’s use of the Force to forge an unbreakable contract with Hekaten. They were now bound together. Forever.

Thinking he had him, Hekaten used the last of his strength to pull the Dashade out of the trap before ending the spell. It had been costlier than he thought, leaving him barely able to stand.

The Dashade laughed. “I see this will be easier than I thought.”

Hekaten had a sinking feeling… “What do you mean?”

“You failed to force proper restraints on our contract.” The Dashade was grinning from ear to ear. “Do you know what this means? I can break free of you some day. All I need is proof that you are too weak to deserve my service. Alas! Today, I have not the strength to do so. But you’ve already shown me that you are weak. That you can be beaten. You are no Tulak Hord. So I am assured; I will kill you, someday. And then, my Master, I will drop your devoured bones on the ashes of all your dreams.”

The Dashade’s laughter almost made Hekaten scream in dismay. Instead, years of pretending to be strong took over, and he returned the laugh. “Sure, go ahead and entertain your delusions. I am at the infancy of my growth, whereas you are past your prime. Time is my ally, not yours. You will grow old long before you get to see my weakness.”

“We shall see… Little Sith.”

At least it’s ‘Little Sith’ now. He rose as steadily as he could, and began downing a heavy calorie drink. He would use a moving recovery trance next. “Come. I need you to unlock the way to Naga’s map room.”

“Who is this ‘Naga’?”

“Naga Sadow. Dark Lord of the Sith. Probably got a dozen other titles I should proclaim. He’s old news. A Sith Lord who reached for greatness, but found only ruin. Much like someone else I’d rather not name.”

“Grrrrrr…”

He could already feel the Dashade attempting to break the bonds that were barely five minutes old. But for now, he had it in his grasp. And victory, in this final trial.

Take every inch, he told himself. Steal every mile. We’ll come out on top by the end of this.

*

Chapter 22: A New Life

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

Tython,
A short while later.

Quorian Dorjis was surprised to see that his welcome party included not just Master Tol Braga, but also Master Kaedan, Master Gnost-Dural and Grand Master Satele Shan herself. “Masters. This is quite a warm welcome.”

“We were afraid we’d lost you, after all,” the Grand Master said politely. “Welcome back, Quorian. We brought Devel with us. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s an adept Healer.”

“Of course, Master Devel! A real honor to meet you.”

“The honor is mine, Master Dorjis. I stand ready to serve.”

“I don’t need any help myself, but there is a woman in my medbay. A Sith Acolyte broke me out, in exchange for her safety. I would be grateful if you could—”

“Of course! Please excuse me.” the small Nautolan bowed and hurried to the landing ramp.

“It sounds like there’s a story here,” Master Satele said with raised eyebrow. “Come, you can tell us in the Master’s gardens. It should be private enough. We can get some food brought there.”

“I’m afraid my mission was only modestly successful, Grand Master. I was able to scout the terrain, and make extensive notes about the layout of the Temple itself. But I was captured before I could infiltrate the Academy. I thought I’d managed to gather intel during my interrogations, but my savior warned me that it was a trap.”

“Give it to us anyway,” Master Kaedan requested. “We’ll treat it with caution.”

“Yes, Master.”

“This Acolyte. Tell us about him.”

“His name was Hekaten. He’s a Twi’lek with purple skin and eyes. He came to me at the Inquisitor’s behest. Told me so almost at once. He told me that his lover, Kory, had been tortured and left for dead once the Overseer had deemed her worthless. Hekaten tried and failed to nurse her back to health. He also realized that Kory didn’t have the temperament to become a Sith. He figured her life was at risk so long as she was alive. So he asked me to take her back with me. I accepted. I even offered to take him as well, but—”

“Yes?”

“He said that he had other family out there. Including a son. He said that he intended to climb the ranks until he could secure their safety. I got the sense that he wasn’t unwilling to defect, once he’d accomplished that goal. He mentioned he was a slave until recently.”

“I see.”

“It might be worth keeping an eye out for this Sith,” Master Braga suggested. “I sympathize with his need to protect the ones he loves. He sounds like a good man, but a life among the Sith is bound to change him over time.”

“Agreed. If we can find out more about him, and find his family for him, we may be able to extract him. Someone willing to stick their necks out enough to tell us the truth about the trap…”

“He said he did so as a token of gratitude,” Quorian said. “That he didn’t want to deceive the one who smuggled Kory out for him.”

“Yes, definitely a man worth saving. It’s unfortunate that ‘Hekaten’ is unlikely to be his real name.”

“Hekaten…” Master Gnost pondered the name. “I wonder if it’s derived from Hekate, an ancient Jeddhan goddess of chaos and magic.”

“That’s a good place to start. There aren’t many purple-skinned Twi’leks out there.”

“Now perhaps you can start going over what you found,” Master Braga suggested. “Perhaps there’s something we can use, one day.”

*

Kory woke up shrieking. She could still feel her lungs burning, the harsh crackling of electricity across her skin. She almost fell out of bed from all her writhing. A pair of doctors and several nurses burst into the room within seconds.

“Easy, Miss!” One of them said. He was a Twi’lek, just like Hekaten. They began looking at the instruments around her. Someone checked her vitals.

“Good,” the Twi’lek nodded. “Very good. Especially considering how you were when Quorian brought you in.”

“Where am I?” Kory whimpered. “This doesn’t Feel like Korriban!”

Everyone looked at each other. “You’re on the planet completely opposite to Korriban, child,” a kindly human with dark skin informed her. “Welcome to Tython. You’re in the Jedi Temple.”

“What? How did I get here? Where is Hekaten? Why am I still alive?”

“Hush… hush… it’s alright… take it easy, for your own sake. You were badly hurt, so it’s a terrible idea to get excited right now.”

Kory wanted to shout at them, asking them what right they had to tell her to settle down. But she bottled up her emotions and nodded.

“We don’t know your history,” a nurse told her. “We only know that Jedi Quorian Dorjis brought you in. You were in bad shape. We wouldn’t have been able to save you, if not for Master Devel. That man is a Healer without peer.”

“He is?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And who’s Quorian?”

“He’s a Jedi Knight, and a fine young man. He’s been here quite often, and was hoping he’d get to meet you before shipping out, but he must be asleep right now. Don’t worry. He’ll probably be here first thing tomorrow.”

“That’s good. Maybe he’ll have some answers for me. Thank you, for saving my life.”

“It’s our job, sweetie.” The dark-skinned human patted her head. “How are you feeling right now? If you want, I can stay in here with you.”

“It’s okay, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

The doctors looked over her one last time before leaving.

Kory couldn’t sleep. She wondered if she should request something to help her sleep… but no. Looking at the time, it was close to 06:00. She didn’t want to lose any more daylight sleeping, than she had to.

She sighed and lay back in her bed. She was too restless to sleep, and when she tried to meditate, she found herself falling for old traps again. With a sigh, she just got up to pace the room. She shivered. It sure was cold on this world. Was it an ice planet?

She heard a knock on her door, and hesitantly said “Come in.” She hoped that no one would attempt to harass her. Or worse.

To her relief, in popped an alien no larger than an adolescent. He had a dusky blue complexion and four arms. There were four Lightsabers on his belt. He looked very, very shy.

“Hello,” he said softly. “I hope you don’t mind. I heard you screaming.”

“Did you come to make me feel better?”

He nodded slowly, not really looking at her. She thought he was blushing. She giggled, despite herself. How cute. “Please, come right in. Make yourself at home.”

He walked right up to her and handed her a few flowers. “They make me feel better,” he told her. “Maybe they’ll help you too.”

“Thank you.” She took in the scents. They were a bit old—she judged that they’d been picked the previous morning—but they still had a good enough smell that she could appreciate. “What’s your name?”

“I am called Vajra Devarath,” he told her. “I was born on Raudraksha, but Uphrades was my home for the past nine years.”

“My name is Kory. Just Kory. Fourth-generation slaves don’t get last names.”

“You were a slave?”

“For most of my life, yes. Around last year, they discovered that I was Force Sensitive. I had quite a strong connection. So, they tried to get me trained. They took me away to Uroboros Academy on Ziost, and later to Korriban. I—I don’t remember what happened next.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, sounding gentle and kind. “I came here hoping to help.”

“I appreciate it.” She thought of hugging him, but felt too awkward. “What about you? Were you in the medical wing? Did I disturb you?”

Vajra shook his head. “I always wake up at 05:00. I was reading this book that Jasme left me.” He held up a small book, no larger than two hundred pages.

“Why were you in the Medical wing? Are you okay?”

“Physically? Yes. But…” he hesitated. “I killed a lot of Khrayii. They attacked the Training grounds without any warning, and killed or crippled a lot of trainees. I took part in driving them back.”

“I see.” She didn’t. He was in the medical wing because he’d won? How strange!

“I can still see them dying,” he whispered. “I can still hear them crying out in pain…”

“How many did you kill?”

“One thousand, seven hundred and sixty-six.”

“What?!” Kory jumped. “How? How did you kill that many—was it over a period of days?”

“No. Less than two hours.”

“Damn!” She thought she could understand why he’d been overwhelmed. To be haunted by that many… “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about this either.”

He nodded gratefully. “I can read for you. Jasme reads for me. It helps.”

“Thank you. What kind of book is that?”

“It’s a story about a girl…” he seemed to struggle for a second. “Chasing? Chasing her dream?... of becoming a pianist.”

“That sounds like a good premise.”

“Premise?”

“Well… it means… what does it mean. Erm. What a certain work starts off from!”

“‘Premise,’” he repeated. “I’ll have to ask Jasme later.”

“Who’s Jasme?”

“She’s the nicest person in the Galaxy. She checked in on me every day. And she made the days here easier.”

“Sounds like a good girl.”

“You look like a good girl too.”

Kory smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Please, sit down. We can read together for a bit.”

*

Quorian Dorjis dropped in shortly after breakfast, by which time Kory was feeling much calmer.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m… not in pain. Not too weak. But the light hurts my eyes. My skin itches like crazy. And… I’m not sure what happened.”

“Well… I’ll start at the beginning. I was a prisoner on Korriban. I’d been caught trying to reconnoiter the Academy. They held me for almost a week, trying to get me to give up everything I knew. Ultimately, they decided it was better to let me go with bad intel. A trap. You with me, so far?”

“I am.”

“So they approached an Acolyte to break me out. They thought it would seem more natural. A weak young acolyte, unready for the stresses and dangers of the dreaded Sith Academy, hoping to forge a connection with the Jedi.”

It took Kory this long to get where he was driving at. “Ah!”

“Hekaten was the one they chose. But he wasn’t what they were expecting. He wanted me to get out for a different reason. So I could take you with me. He told me that you had been discarded by your Overseer. That you’d been violently attacked, and left to die. He kept you alive, but was only able to slow things down. You were still going to die, and no one else was willing to help you. So, he struck a bargain with me. He got me out—and told me the truth—in exchange for securing you safe passage. I offered to bring him as well, but—”

“But he wouldn’t leave while without his son,” Kory finished for him.

“Precisely.” He squeezed her hand gently. “He seemed like he genuinely loved you. He hated seeing you go. But he saw no other way. He asked me to tell you that he loves you.”

“Of course he does.” Kory began to cry uncontrollably. “Of course he does!” She was inconsolable for almost an hour.

*

Kory was visited by a rather beautiful, middle-aged woman around noon.

“Pardon the intrusion. Is this a good time?”

“Of course. Please, come in.”

“My name is Satele Shan. I’m the leader of the Jedi Council.”

“You’re Grand Master Satele Shan? You look so… so…”

“Thank you,” the Grand Master bowed. “I’ve come to ask about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes. Please, tell me about yourself.”

“I’m… I’m afraid I don’t have any intel on the Sith. I was a slave most of my life, and I barely even made it through the front door of Korriban Academy. And Uroboros is nothing special. It’s meant for people like me after all.”

The Grand Master’s smile was kind. “You misunderstand me. I’m not looking to use you. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?”

“That’s right. You stand at a crossroads now. You are no longer a slave, no longer an acolyte, no longer a Sith.”

“Yes. I don’t know what to do now. I’ve never felt so lost, before.”

“Under ordinary circ*mstances, I’d have suggested speaking to our therapists. But they’re inundated right now. Many of our Padawans—our Apprentices—were crippled or worse by the Khrayii. Brutal, primitive natives.”

“Right, Vajra told me about them.”

“He’s a good boy. Brave. He didn’t even hesitate to charge into a whole sea of those creatures. Almost alone. He saved a lot of lives.”

“I… I’m sorry, but when I first spoke to him, I wondered how someone could be in the medical wing despite having won.”

“We’ll talk about him some other time. He’s currently the hot topic of the Temple. But I’m here for you.” She gently placed a hand on top of hers. “So tell me about yourself.”

“I’m… My name is Kory. Just Kory. I was a slave, born on Begeren. I don’t remember my parents. They died when I was still young. I was raised by my half-brother and stepsister. They were cruel to me. They made me do all the housework, in addition to whatever the taskmasters saddled me with. They took great care to always criticize my work in as nasty terms as they could manage. I was always weak because of them, both physically and emotionally. Made me a prime target for… bullies.”

Master Shan seemed to realize that something was wrong then. “You don’t have to describe in any greater detail than you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you. But I might as well.” She told the Grand master her full story, without any lies or evasions, including her relationship with Hekaten and her trial on Korriban.

“I see. You’ve suffered greatly, haven’t you? It’s remarkable that you’re still in one piece. Many would have succumbed to what you survived in the Tomb of Ajunta.”

“Spindrall didn’t seem to think so. He said my performance was unbecoming of a Sith Lord.”

“He sounds like such a sweet old man.” Master Shan shook her head. “But he’s wrong in this. It takes strength to stand up to your abusers. And you did it twice.”

“I thought Jedi don’t condone violence.”

“We accept it as a necessary evil. What we don’t condone is revenge. And you clearly didn’t seek Ron out. Or this… Janet. They came to you. They tried to hurt you again. What I do hope, is that you leave the Dark Side behind. It’s addictive. And it demands violence and pain for their own sake.”

“Without it, I’m just a weak woman. A punching bag.”

“You still have the Force, don’t you? You can be strong without seeking to dominate others.”

Kory did not like the direction this conversation was heading. Like she was being courted. “You want me to be a Jedi.”

“No. I want you to be free. The Sith may have rejected you, but it’s easy to fall back into thoughts of indignation and despair. You can still lead a comfortable life, without choosing the Jedi way.”

“There’s little else that I’m good at. A slave, or an Acolyte. I wasn’t bad until…” she froze. “Do you think I was only good so long as Hekaten was around? Am I nothing without him?”

“No. It certainly seems like he brought out the best in you, but I’d say that few could’ve done better. He even seems to have taken a few steps back, when you showed progress. The problem was time. You weren’t ready. Perhaps just another month, maybe two, and you’d have been the strong woman you yearn to be. You can still be that woman. There are many paths to strength, and not all require you to follow the way of a warrior.”

“For example?”

“Have you met Jasme yet?”

“I—no. But Vajra seems to treat her like an angel.”

“Many younger Jedi do. She’s not a Jedi herself, being too weak in the Force to lift more than a pillow. She works in our archives. Proudly. She’s never once felt inferior to anyone else. And she frequently helps out anyone in need. No doubt she’ll come visit you, later during the day. She’s the best example I can give you of inner strength.”

“Can she fight?”

“I’m told she can. Not that I’ve ever seen her do so. But I’m sure that you’re a better fighter than she is. You’ve already fought for your life twice. And won. It’s not capability that I’m talking about, it’s inner strength. Jasme can stay strong against bullies and thugs. An example of the opposite is Vajra. He’s the most talented swordsman we’ve seen in four centuries. Perhaps ever. But… well, you saw him, right? He was unready for a real fight. Though I’d imagine anyone would be crushed at having to kill over a thousand people in their first engagement. Still, by his own admission, the first kill was almost too much for him. So you see, power isn’t everything. We’ll get him there, though.”

“Does he have a choice?”

“He does. And he chose to continue.”

“What are my choices?”

“The simplest would be taking the path of a Jedi. While we follow a diametrically opposite path to the Sith, your schedule will still be identical to your life as an acolyte. You will meditate, learn theory and philosophy, practice using the Force, train with a Lightsaber, and then move on to more advanced topics. Like diplomacy and command.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Less promising, perhaps, is our lifestyle. Jedi are not permitted attachments. That includes families. If you walk our path, you must be ready to live a life dedicated to the Force. Which means—”

“That I can’t be with Hekaten. Even if he succeeds…”

“Is he planning to switch sides once he can secure his family’s safety?”

“Probably. He never forgot his treatment at our Masters’ hands. Still, it was a Sith that treated him fairly for the first time in his life. Darth Marr. He may yet choose…” she couldn’t continue.

“What might you choose, should he rise up one day? Should he call for you to return to his side?”

“I will return to him. But I will not take up arms against the Republic, or the Jedi. Nor will I betray those who helped me in any way.”

“I understand.”

“What are my other options?”

“Well, that depends on you. Would you like to become a spacer? A teacher? A politician? A lawyer? A trader? A florist? A farmer? You could even seek the employ in a noble house. The work will be much like what you did as a slave, but you will be treated with better dignity, and paid more appropriately. It’s far from perfect, but it’s still a better life than where you came from.”

“I… what does it take to be a spacer?”

“That depends on your position. There are pilots, technicians, cooks, cleaners, movers, and guards. We actually have a Captain who recently arrived here on Tython. She put in a request for anyone willing to join her crew. A couple of people volunteered, but I can ask if there’s a spot open.”

“Would you? That would be great!”

“I’ll let her know. And I’ll tell you her response.”

“Thank you, Grand Master!”

“Please don’t mention it. We live to serve.”

*

As promised, Kory had several visitors throughout the day. Quorian showed up again, one final visit before bidding her goodbye. Vajra dropped in too, as did the girl called Jasme. She really was everything Vajra and Master Shan had made her out to be; Kory felt much better from having met her.

And finally, around late afternoon, she got a visit from a beautiful young woman with a sleeping infant in her arms. “Hello!” she greeted Kory with a smile. “My name is Juniper McIntyre.”

“My name is Kory. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I hear you’re looking for a new life. And that you might be interested in joining my crew.”

“Well… that depends. What sort of work do you have for me?”

“I have three openings. If you can do any one, I’d be grateful. If you can take on two roles, all the better.”

“Go on.”

“I need a cook, a cleaner, and a nanny.” She coughed and gently cradled her child. “His name is Adam. And he’s a handful.”

“I’ve had some experience with children.”

“But you don’t sound too willing.”

“I was an Imperial slave for most of my life—"

“Oh, you poor thing.” She gave Kory a gentle, one-armed hug. “I understand. All the openings head back into that territory, don’t they?”

“That’s right.”

“Then how about I talk benefits? I can pay 2,500 credits a month if you take on any one of the jobs, plus an additional 1,500 if you take on another. I can also offer to take you along on my adventures. I’ve come from a bad background myself—I’ll tell you about it later—and I’ve made it my mission to visit all the best places in the galaxy. You can explore it with me. And finally, I’ll teach you everything I know. That way, you can start out by yourself, sometime down the road. If you ever decide to.”

“Sounds promising.”

“And if you’re an ex-slave, there’s a good chance you come with baggage. Traumas and ailments. I will pay up to 5,000 credits per year for any treatment or therapy that you might need.”

“You’d do that? But why? Why go so far for me?”

“Because someone went that far for me. Maybe if everyone goes a little extra for each other, the galaxy would be a better place.”

“That’s a beautiful dream. But I’m sorry to say, it’s probably not very realistic.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been treated with kindness on several occasions. I’m more than happy to return it to the galaxy. And to people who need it.”

“I’d be a fool not to accept your offer. And your kindness.”

“Terrific! I think we’re ready to leave soon. Will you be ready by then?”

“I’m ready right now. Can I come with you?”

“Sure thing, sweetie. But I need to feed Adam right now. I don’t mind if you sit in. Or, you could see if there’s anything you need to finish. Paperwork or whatnot. Maybe the Jedi have some parting gifts for you. Kay?”

“Okay. I’ll seek you out in a bit.”

“You don’t have to. My ship is called the Ruby Sea. Just ask anyone, I’m sure they’ll point you to it. I’ll wait for you. So take your time.”

“Thank you.”

*

Kory ran into a small Nautolan who grinned at her like she was an old friend. “Good day, Miss Kory! I’m glad to see you up and about!”

“Hello, Jedi. Do I know you?”

“Perhaps not. My name is Devel Nirol.”

Kory recognized the name at once. “The Healer? You’re the one that saved my life! Thank you, I’m so grateful for what you did!”

“I’m glad I could help,” Devel smiled. “It is my duty to serve.”

“I’m glad I got to meet you. I was told you’d left shortly after Healing me.”

“Yes, I did. And I came back. Tython serves as a base of operations. Many Jedi come and go… though I’m sad to say that few of us can stay for more than a day at a time. If we’re even that lucky.”

“What!? Why is that?”

“Because a Jedi’s service is always needed. We are diplomats, healers, mediators, protectors, scholars, and—when all else fails—warriors. And there are not enough of us left in the galaxy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must leave you quite busy.”

“It does. I noticed your own power when I healed you. Are you to join our ranks?”

“I—I’m afraid not.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “Forgive me. Your path is yours alone to walk. I hope you find a good life for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Umm… a little. I want to finish all the discharge formalities and thank everyone who dropped in to cheer me up.”

“I hope you can spare me a few minutes of your time.”

“Of course, Master Jedi!”

“Like I said, I noticed your power. What’s more, you’ve already started training to become Sith.”

“That’s right.”

“So, I thought I’d give you the basic lessons on the Jedi path. Not for something to follow, just as… balance, I suppose. So you know there’s an alternative to rage and hatred when the hour turns dark. Perhaps our meditation techniques and philosophies will help you find peace.”

“I accept.” There was no harm in it. It wasn’t like he was requesting a commitment to his Order.

“Wonderful! Here, I always carry a spare data cube on me, just in case. This has seventeen hours’ worth of lectures, and instructions on maintaining peace and calm. But also ways to move past attachments. Including traumas.”

“Wait… there are ways to move beyond trauma?”

“Of course! I see that interests you.”

“I wish to find peace. If that is the way of the Jedi—”

“I’m sure you’ve been told the Sith code. Here’s the Jedi one. ‘There is no emotion, only peace. There is no ignorance, there is only knowledge. There is no passion, only serenity. There is no chaos, only harmony. There is no death, only the Force.”

“No passion, only serenity. I like the sound of that. And your meditation techniques will let me find peace?”

“Yes.”

“Then this is a great gift. Thank you!”

“You are most welcome.” Devel’s smile was wide as he waved her farewell.

*

The Next Day

Kory took up one of the co*ckpit’s passenger seats as the Ruby Sea made the jump into Hyperspace. This was only the third time she’d gotten to experience it, so it still seemed so pretty to her.

“I’ll never get over how beautiful that is,” Juniper sighed.

“Really? But isn’t this your hundredth Jump, at least?”

“Five hundredth. And yeah, it never gets old. This is your new life, now. For however long you want it.”

“Thank you, Captain McIntyre.”

The Captain coughed. “Please, call me Juniper. Or even Juni.”

“Juni. It suits you.” Little Adam squirmed in Kory’s arms. He pointed at the blue sea of Hyperspace.

“Ready for adventure, little guy?”

The baby gurgled.

“That settles it,” Kory laughed.

“It does indeed!” Juni smiled back at her. “To infinity, baby!”

*

Chapter 23: Lord Kallig

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC
Dromund Kaas

“Feels like it’s always a dark and stormy night here on Dromund Kaas,” Hekaten commented as he stepped out of the speeder.

“And all the world has adapted,” his Master, the lovely and indefatigable Lord Zash said with her characteristic, bright smile. “This storm is why we Sith were drawn to this world.”

“I wasn’t complaining, Master,” Hekaten assured her. “‘It was a dark and stormy night’ is the most overused of openers for too many tales. More so than ‘Once upon a time in a land far, far away.’”

“So you were just poking fun at clichés in literature?” Zash tossed a head back and laughed with nothing held back. “Fun! One might wonder how someone raised as a slave got to be so well-read after just a few years in Sith Academies!”

“That’s easy. I rescued books from refuse bins. We all did. Need to stay entertained somehow.” He looked around. “By the way, where are we?”

Out of the curtains of rain loomed a small Imperial Outpost.

“This is Outpost Warden,” Zash called back, her voice a little louder to make herself heard over the torrents. “The last strip of civilization before the Gates of Hades.”

“The Gates of Hades?”

“The Dark Temple, we call it these days. The Great Necropolis.” Her voice had gone soft, but he could still hear her over the rain. “A thousand of our greatest Sith lie buried in this city of the dead. In some cases, imprisoned. For true Sith do not sleep soundly. And all their teachings, wealth, weapons, constructs, and artifacts lie buried with them. And then there are all the corpses of servants and retainers, who were often immured with their masters to protect them. Or serve as decoys. Before we retook Korriban, our trials were conducted here. Traversing traps and haunted tombs to recover slivers of their lost power.”

“Some things never change,” Hekaten noted.

“Indeed, one would think we Sith would’ve moved past our obsession with the past at some point or other. Outgrown the dead. Unfortunately, the past holds mysteries we’ve long since forgotten. In some cases, it’s thanks to external enemies—like with the Great Hyperspace War. The Republic’s purges destroyed much of the lore and knowledge which were commonplace back then. But our own predecessors are also to blame,” her voice grew passionate. “They chose to hoard their knowledge even in death. Imagine, if they’d chosen to disseminate their discoveries instead. Where would we be? What new heights would we have attained, had we the ability to go ahead without retreading old ground!” She looked back at Hekaten. She patted his cheek with a hand. “Promise me, Apprentice. Promise me that your secrets will not die with you. For my part, I will ensure that you know everything I have to teach before my time.”

“I swear it will be so, Master,” swept up in her impassioned entreaty Hekaten agreed fervently.

“Now, come!” she pulled him by his hand enthusiastically. For all the world, as though they were on a picnic. “I’ve explored this place as often as my work allowed. I am woefully ignorant of the inner necropolis, but I can show you some truly ingenious little mechanisms and contraptions I discovered!”

*

The next three days were a fascinating experience for Hekaten. He’d spent months on Korriban digging through graves, but those had been grueling tests of physical and mental endurance that left him caked in dust and covered in blood. Never his own, thankfully. But he was left watching every shadow for threats, even when he’d left Korriban in the dust. Even on Vaiken Spacedock and the shuttle ride over, and especially after entering Kaas city, he’d been unable to let his guard down.

But this trip really was like a picnic. Zash was eager to discuss history, philosophy, cultures, the Force, and even her personal life to a degree—life as a semi-socialite Sith, especially one that looked as lively and gorgeous as she did. Of course, Hekaten had no problem reciprocating. Nor did he find her need for frequent physical contact threatening. In fact, he found himself comforted whenever she took his hand, or stroked his head or cheek. Or brushed against his side in tight quarters. He also appreciated her sense of humor.

It was very different from travelling with Khem, who was always testing the limits of his… oath to Hekaten. And was abrasive enough to leave the vitriolic Harkun weeping.

“… and that was how I managed to figure out this one trap,” Zash beamed, pointing at an incongruous tile a few steps off from the current tomb’s threshold.

“Fascinating,” Hekaten whispered. “And you found this in a letter…?”

“Exactly!” she cried. “Never underestimate a document’s value. You might find the missing piece to a tricky riddle. Or decipher an unknown language.”

“I will remember that.”

“Not that it will be too hard for you. You’ve learned the value of research. I will never forget our first meeting. Reading pre-contact Sith Hieroglyphics like they were your native tongue!”

“You’ve more than returned the favor,” Hekaten grinned. “You’re always pulling interesting curios and treasures from your vast hoard of knowledge.”

“‘Library,’ not ‘hoard,’” she corrected. “At least where you’re concerned. The only reason you don’t know all of it yet, is because you’ve not had time to peruse.” She stopped, turned, and hopped closer so he could see the golden spots in her brown eyes. “But time will rectify that. You will know all of it, ere the end.”

“Thank you, Master. I couldn’t have hoped for a better teacher.”

With another wide, charming smile, Zash led him into the tomb’s main chamber. “So this is the last of the tombs I’ve had the opportunity to explore.”

“Really? But it was less than 10% of the whole necropolis!”

“Less than 1%,” she said ruefully. “In fact, less than a tenth of one. The heart of the necropolis has been claimed by the Emperor for his purposes. No, not just the heart; all the vital organs too. A good half of the overall structure. For centuries, only he and his most trusted servants were allowed into the depths.”

“Oh…”

“But no longer.” Her eyes glinted. “You see, my dear, sweet Apprentice; we have an opportunity ahead of us.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What I’m about to tell you is highly secret,” Zash warned. “Only a few Sith have discovered it. While I am against the withholding of knowledge, I’m sure you know how grasping our fellows can be.”

“I understand.”

“Well, allow me to impress it further anyway,” Zash sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s a necessity. If this becomes common knowledge, the Imperial Guard might crack down on the entire upper echelon of the Sith. And perhaps Houses Rooks and Kaygir will join in, too. There will be a river of blood pouring out of the Dark Citadel for months.”

Hekaten swallowed. “I’ve read about them. But… are the Ebon Princes really that dangerous?”

“Most aren’t. Only the Rooks and Kaygir. The former were seemingly crippled in the last war, but they’ve bounced back, and how! Tiarna Kairegane walked into the Dark Council not too long ago. I don’t know what she did in there, but the Dark Council is drafting a very formal and very humiliating apology to House Rooks. It will be released very soon, in a special ceremony aimed at mending old wounds. Marr and Vowrawn are expected to bow down to do it.”

Hekaten paled. “Impossible.”

“Then you understand the power she wields. Jadus would’ve been on the ground alongside them, if he hadn’t been so unceremoniously taken off the board.” She shuddered. “Jadus, killed by common terrorists. Jadus, of all people. The only Sith I fear more than Rooks or Kaygir. And our monarch, of course.” She sighed. “But speaking of the Emperor, he has gone silent in recent years. This began decades ago. For most of that time, Sith only tested their limits little by little. They reached for tombs and reliquaries just inside the boundaries marked by the Emperor. When he did not respond, they went deeper. Then a few months ago, several Sith delved into the main structure. The Dark Temple, where the Emperor had a room. And a throne.”

“No!”

“Yes. Jadus was the first. But someone else must have meddled around in there, with something that should’ve been left alone. They woke the restless dead. Before I left to choose my Apprentice—you—an apparition awakened in the Dark Temple, implacable in its anger and murdering everyone who trespassed in its innermost passages. Now, hundreds more ghosts are loose. And not in the sane way. They haunt the vicinity of their tombs, shout orders at long-dead servants, and possess and corrupt the living.”

“Cheery. I assume that’s where we’re headed?”

“Not directly. We’re entering through this cave system I discovered.” She used the Force to move aside a cracked section of wall. “Luckily for us, there are only three major branches, and two of those end up in the inner courtyard. From there, it’s a quick jump to the tomb we’re after.”

“Whose tomb is it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “To be perfectly honest, we’re here because of a Vision. It tells me that I must have the artifact within; and you are the only one who may enter.”

“What can I do, that you cannot?”

“Strangely, you must supplicate yourself.” She sighed again. “I do not know why it must be you. Anyone can bow down if they have to—as Marr and Vowrawn will prove in a few days. But you are the only one this ghost will listen to.” She looked at him. “If you find this mission too daunting—”

“I do not, my Master. I will not disappoint you.”

Zash smiled gratefully, her full smile sending tremors down Hekaten’s lekku. “Thank you, Hekaten. But you don’t have to swear to it. If you judge it too dangerous to continue, you may flee. I will not think less of you. We can find another way.”

“Another way to what?”

“There is an old ritual of Tulak Hord that I need to rediscover. One that will save my life in the near future. I will tell you more about it, as I learn.”

“I understand.”

“Now. It’s time to enter the gloomy stretch.”

Catching her meaning, Hekaten followed her as silently as he could. The tunnel system was as dangerous as any in Korriban. Full of dangerous beasts. They couldn’t drop their guards for a moment, for danger might be lurking around the next bend. Or in the pools they stopped by for water.

*

The half-day felt more like a half-month; but at last, they reached the exit they were looking for.

But they ran into a nasty shock just before the exit. A large beast that blended in with the rocks near-perfectly. One they couldn’t Sense until it had been disturbed.

Zash saw it first. Without thinking, she bellowed “LOOK OUUUUUT!” and shouldered her apprentice out of the way. The Twi’lek was knocked into a rock right outside the cave with enough force to leave him stunned.

With mounting horror, Zash turned to face the beast. Alone.

It was something she’d never seen before. Its carapace looked like something made of pure rock. Its main body looked like a badly-hewn upside-down, shallow pyramid. Purple-black veins of light and mist spiderwebbed their way across its bottom and face. It had eight long, flexible legs that seemed to end in serrated spears. It had several pairs of purple eyes, and a large mouth with diamond-like teeth that glittered in the moonlight that entered through the cave when it roared.

She hadn’t personally fought something in ages. She was a little older than she appeared, and a lot less graceful.

So, she responded to the creature’s angry charge with a stream of Lightning. Unfortunately, this was a bad call. Dim crystals on the creature’s shell began to glow and overflow with sparks. It released a clumsy electric shockwave that knocked her back into a column.

Zash’s panicked mind finally caught up with reality. This wasn’t a natural beast at all! It was alchemical!

Before she could get any further, the creature made a lunge for her. She rolled aside, saved by her own instinct, then tried to pick it up with the Force. But that ended up backfiring too; the creature somehow took control of its own lift, and moved five times as fast as it should’ve.

Is this the end? Zash asked herself incredulously.

But her Apprentice came to her rescue. She was Pulled out of the cave at the last second, right into Hekaten’s waiting arms.

“GOT YOU!” he cried.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE, RUN!” Zash wailed.

“It’s alright,” Hekaten said in soothing tones. “The guardian is bound to the cave. See?”

And indeed, the beast had fallen still right after its prey was out in the open air.

“How did you know?” Zash asked in hushed tones.

In answer, Hekaten knelt and pointed on the ground. Zash had to squint to see the faded runes glowing at the entrance. It wasn’t a sentence, but a Binding line of some sort; a formula to keep something contained.

“That Sithspawn is called the Kradnesk,” Hekaten went on. “Created by an ancient Sith Lord called Kurhshta. Very deadly. It feeds off the Force like my Dashade, but much more deeply. Even you—a learned Darth—didn’t last three seconds against it. Which is why its creator didn’t trust it with complete freedom.”

“Yes…” Zash whispered. She realized she was trembling. She used her Apprentice’s support to stay upright. “Yes. I am lucky.”

“We… we might need another way out of the valley,” Hekaten said relutcantly.

“I know… I know three other ways,” Zash admitted. But the scare made her second-guess their viability. What if there were monsters guarding those routes out too? “I… I will reach out to a Mandalorian who owes me a few favors. He’ll see to it that we have a speeder or something standing by.”

“That’s a relief, Master.”

They were there for nearly twenty minutes before they felt steady enough to move on.

*

Hours later,
Outside a tomb near the heart of the Necropolis

As it happened, Hekaten ended up saving Zash from one more Sithspawn. This one was a far more traditional one; a Terentatek, bigger than normal. It nearly crushed Zash’s head with a lucky blow, but Hekaten cut its arm off with an even luckier blow with his Lightsaber.

“THERE!” Zash cried, pointing at a spot right above its stomach. Hekaten reared up and tossed his Lightsaber into the crystal keeping it alive. Even with its speed amplified by one as strong as Hekaten, the blade was barely strong enough to penetrate the shell, but it was enough. The Terentatek howled one last time, enraged that its centuries-long rampage was at an end at last.

“Good job,” Zash whispered, holding up the remains of her Lightsaber.

“We’ll repair it once we get back,” Hekaten said.

“I still need something to defend myself with here. You still have that little rodent’s Lightsaber, don’t you? What was his name… Ffon? Yes. Give it to me. I’ll return it later.”

“I won’t lose any sleep if you don’t. I took it to mock Harkun. Nothing more.”

Zash chuckled. The skies had been clear today, leaving the moon to shine down upon them. She wondered if she’d be able to see the sunrise. A rare treat, here on the Sith capital.

“This is the one,” Zash said, pointing at the doorway behind them.

“It is?” Hekaten squinted at the inscription. “It says… ‘Here… here lies…’ the name has been defiled. Deliberately, I think, and centuries ago. As were all their titles and accomplishments. That’s rare. Normally we keep that sort of thing clear. So we know where any ‘acquired’ artifacts and teachings come from.”

“You’re thinking about the tombs on Ziost and Korriban,” Zash said quietly. “Or even the outer tombs of this necropolis. But these tombs were different. The remains of some unimaginably powerful Sith lie interred here, along with their lives’ works. Ones the Emperor didn’t want us to sift through until he was done with them. And this is one of the oldest of the ancients, which has resisted even our monarch’s attempts to glean its secrets.”

She realized that her apprentice was finally starting to understand what it was she was asking of him. It didn’t matter. He would do what she wanted him to. Quite happily too.

“If you’re still willing, cross the threshold. I will stay here until you emerge.”

“And what if I don’t emerge?”

“It doesn’t matter. Here is exactly where I’ll remain, for better or worse. For my fate is tied to yours. If you fail, so too do I. Thanaton won’t even have to lift a finger for my demise to reach me.”

“I will not fail you.”

Zash gave him a grateful, happy smile that didn’t fade even when he’d disappeared from view.

*

There were no doors at all. Not even a sign of one. That alone frightened Hekaten. The ‘occupant’ must’ve been supremely confident that no one would get past the guardians and traps.

And he’d been proven right. For millennia, considering that this tomb was in the heart of the heart.

He could feel the energy swelling around him. Shapes and shadows flitted around in the corners of his vision. Pebbles fell down around him every once in a while, made all the louder by the dead silence. He ran into more than one cobweb, making him cry out and brush himself off frantically—some of the spiders and other insects on Dromund Kaas were extremely venomous. Others had stings that would leave him in agony for weeks. But the worst ones were those suffused with the Dark Side, whose bite left a permanent mark on their victims.

The false peace made Hekaten more nervous with every passing second. Why hadn’t he run into any traps yet? Why hadn’t the tomb’s residents begun to harass him? Had they been weakened by the Emperor’s efforts after all?

Especially since he knew he had their attention.

“Where are you?” he asked aloud. “Are you trying to lull me into complacency? Why do you allow me in here, when you turned away countless others? Are you playing some sick game with me?”

“That’s not quite right,” said a soft breeze of a voice. It was among the least threatening he’d ever heard, but it held a power that still made him pause. “It is you, after all. Come closer, Child. Allow me to look upon you. And do not worry about my minions and mechanisms. They have accepted your presence here.”

As Hekaten inched closer to the sarcophagus, a stone in the center of the chamber began to release a dim light. It was enough for the Sith Apprentice to make his way to the coffin. He looked around as he did so. Most of the treasures in here were shelves full of scrolls which had long since decayed to leave only their fragmented spines behind. There were also several dozen tablets covered in dust and webs. Many closed chests. A few racks of ancient weapons. An empty throne. Several statues like he’d seen before; just once.

“That temple on Agraia… was that yours?”

“I do not know that world. Perhaps its name was changed since my passing.”

“I think it was called ‘Rulhaarek’ in the distant past. Back when it was owned by… I don’t know who.”

“Ahhh, Rulhaarek. Yes, that is a name I know better. So you’ve braved its depths as well? Did you learn the formula I left behind?”

“Yes. But I do not understand it.”

“You will, when you must. Now, tarry no longer, Flesh of my Flesh. Approach.” A ghost appeared on the throne. Its face was hidden by a skull-shaped mask.

Hekaten did as told, and bowed as Zash had instructed. “I humble myself before—”

The ghost snorted. “None of that, now. Stand, Flesh of my Flesh! You are not my lesser, and a thousand curses upon the one who led you to believe so!”

“I’m… I’m not your lesser?”

“No. You are my successor. The son of my daughter, removed how many generations, I do not know. I Felt your awakening in the Force. Perhaps at the very moment you reached my temple. I was awakened from my long nightmare. Was made aware. I could not leave this place, where my remains lie, where my soul is bound. But the Force gave me certainty that you would come before me, eventually.”

“And just who are you?”

“Truly? You do not know? Did the father of your father not pass down the family history, as was his duty? To ensure that you know the name of Kallig, revered in the annals of the Sith!”

“And what do you mean, I awakened you?”

“I rose the first time someone stepped on my grave. I resumed my old life as if naught were amiss. For many years, I ruled as a Dark Lord of the Sith, the ruler of this… vast and beautiful kingdom—” he pointed disgustedly at the decrepit tomb. “But some years ago—when you took possession of my most guarded secret, no doubt—I knew that my time had long since gone. That my family had fallen, and it was my descendant’s duty—not mine—to return our family back to its old glory.”

“But I’m a former slave!”

“That is my shame. I was once one of the greatest Sith Lords. If I’d been wiser, I’d have secured my family’s place among the mighty. But I let down my guard, and was betrayed by a man I once considered a friend. His name was Tulak Hord.”

“Hord? Interesting. I freed a slave of his from stasis. A Dashade. He serves me now.”

This seemed to please Lord Kallig. “Ha! Which Dashade? Surely not the mighty Khem Val!? Tulak’s sniveling dog? He serves the child of Kallig now? And he will protect you as you return us to the apex…” he laughed merrily a while longer. “The Force has a sense of humor, it seems. Take care not to become the object of its next joke. Do not take Khem’s obedience for granted.”

“I won’t. That fool takes no care to pretend otherwise. If he knew subtlety, he’d have tried to put my guard down, first.”

“Good. Do not make the same mistake I did, when you restore our bloodline. Treachery is the Sith’s endless game. You must win it! Beware your Master. Beware your Apprentice. Never be taken by surprise. You will be unstoppable.”

“Then so be it.”

“Your Master no doubt didn’t send you in for me. She wanted one of my artifacts.”

“Yes. I believe it was one belonging to Tulak.”

“Ah. That one. I managed to wrest it from him before he died. Take it, but be careful. I know not what it does; only that betrayal follows it like a shadow.”

“What of me? Of us?”

The ghost pointed to a carving on the throne, below his left hand. “This is my mask. Take it. That will release me from this prison and allow me to aid you when the time is dire. It is best you take nothing else until you have power of your own. Once you are recognized, return here with archaeologists you trust. The record of our family genealogy is in a microchip in that scroll over there. It will help prove our tie, and allow you to claim our family name in truth. You may also take all these trappings of wealth with you at that time. They will help you purchase power, cooperation, and secrets. For now, you have all you need to survive and grow. So long as you don’t forget to watch your back.”

“I appreciate all you’re doing for us… father of my father.”

“And remember. Do not tell your master the truth of what happened here.”

The Twi’lek gave a very reluctant, “Very well.” The box Hekaten claimed was smaller and more nondescript than he’d been expecting. Perhaps real power didn’t need to flaunt itself. Or perhaps it was simply meant to avoid suspicion.

Master will be so pleased.

*

As promised, Lord Zash was waiting for Hekaten. So far as he could tell, she had been pacing the whole time.

“You’re back!” she cried, looking relieved.

“Yeah.” He tried to stop her from hugging him. “Lots of cobwebs in there. Dust too.”

“I don’t mind!” Zash declared. “I’ve been in my share. Strange as this sounds, I’m used to it.” She pulled back to look at him. She examined his eyes, then closed her eyes and grasped his face, probing him for anything wrong. “Hmmm. Everything seems normal.”

“I suppose that means you don’t Sense this?” Hekaten pulled out her box.

“Oh! Is that it then? Tulak’s artifact?”

“I think so. Once I bowed down before it, the ghost was willing to let me take it. It’s the only thing in there that vibrated on a different frequency compared to him.”

“Very good, Apprentice. We Sith seek power and victory, but sometimes the biggest victory lies in survival. Even if that means surrendering, or feigning weakness. And now, you have fetched me a prize.”

“What is this, actually? It looks like just a wooden cube.”

“Simple wood doesn’t survive several millennia in an environ like a tomb. No, this relic is more than it appears. You see this groove here? I suspect a needle was inserted inside to carve a ritual inside. Or a part of one. And as you yourself noted, it teems with Tulak’s power. It is most definitely what I was after.”

“Then I’m glad to have served you.”

“And I’m just glad. Glad to be here, glad to have this, and glad to have you.” She leaned against his shoulder for a moment. “Hekaten?”

“Yes, Master?”

“You didn’t just complete my assignment today. You saved my life. Twice.”

“Couldn’t let my Master die, could I?”

Zash giggled. “I admit… you’ve made quite an impression on me. Right from the first moment. It’s not often a scholar with knowledge like yours, looks quite this… attractive. And then you save my life, and look like the finest man I’ve ever met.” The way she stroked his cheek felt different this time. “And then there’s the fact… I may be your teacher, but you’re just six years younger than myself. And I haven’t taken a lover in years. No one has caught my eye like you have.”

“Master… are you sure…?”

She gave him her one of her usual full, bright smiles. “Never been more sure, Apprentice. Never. Now come. Let us enjoy being alive.”

They began to kiss with a desperation like hungry gundarks. In half the blink of an eye, their clothes had fallen around them, and they were f*cking at the threshold of Kallig’s tomb. Hekaten’s ancestor.

As she began screaming “Apprentice! Apprentice!” to his thrusts, Hekaten hoped fervently that his Ancestor hadn’t already begun to ‘watch his back.’

“KAAAT!” she cried out as she came.

“MASTER,” he screamed as he did. They lay in their muddy embrace for an hour after they were done. Not long afterwards, Zash’s Mandalorian contact dropped by to pick them up.

Their adventure was over, but Hekaten hoped that their relationship wasn’t. He couldn’t escape the thought any longer; he was deeply in love.

*

A Week Later

Zash left her Apprentice in her bed when she woke for her customary 02:00 drink. She wrapped a gown around herself, but didn’t immediately head for her bar. Instead, she sat down to think.

Her Apprentice’s heart was hers now. She had surprised herself by risking her own life for his, but perhaps she should’ve expected her own reaction. He was her future; more intimately than he realized. But in so doing, she’d earned his trust. More, he was hopelessly in love with her, and he would go to any lengths to do her bidding.

She was really starting to feel it, these days. That Dark Side horromantula venom had improved her affinity to the Dark Side, but it had also sped up the side-effects. Her blood burned in her veins. She could no longer fight like she used to. Excursions were getting harder too.

Until she could claim him—truly claim him—she needed to protect him. To manage the need send him out on missions, and the risks. He had his Dashade, for now. That would keep him safe.

And yet… yet she couldn’t deny that she truly enjoyed Hekaten’s company. Not to mention, the sex. He’d had a lot of experience from the looks of things, and managed to more than merely satisfy her. Perhaps it was good they were so… compatible. It would make settling in all the sweeter.

She watched him as he dozed, careful to keep her usual, caring expression on in case he woke unexpectedly.

Soon, my Apprentice. Soon

*

Chapter 24: Humbled

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC
Aboard the Spirit of Vengeance

Mandalore the Vindicated sat nervously on his throne. He hadn’t been this fidgety since… Blast it all! Mandalorians are no good at remembering!

But then, Mandalorians weren’t supposed to do what he was doing, either. But what else could he do?

The tall, gorgeous young woman sitting opposite him carelessly drank a sip of her fruit punch. “Aren’t you going to drink, Mandalore?”

“I’m not thirsty,” Mandalore coughed.

“You sure? Your throat sounds pretty dry to me. If you don’t like tea, maybe your steward can break out the booze. The good stuff! Not for me though.”

Feeling trapped, Mandalore called for Kabeg. “Bring out the Corellian. Make it a double red surprise.”

“At once, Mandalore.”

“I must say, Mandalorian hospitality really is something else,” the woman remarked, looking around at everyone. “I wasn’t expecting such a turnout. And everyone’s being so respectful! Standing back, and making sure your guest is watered and fed before getting their own servings!”

“Yes…”

At her request, this ‘tea party’ was happening right in the main assembly hall. Every Mandalorian on the ship was invited to join, and they had. They gave their guest a respectable three-meter-wide space to breathe, almost as if they’d learned consideration. But this was trepidation; a rare feeling among his brethren. They were too curious to stay in their cabins at a time like this, but were too nervous to do anything that might tick her off.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a tremendous amount of respect for this woman. Traditionally, the victorious enemy would invite the vanquished aboard their ship. To avoid being taken prisoner. But here she was, with just a small honor guard of fifty Claymores. In a ship bristling with the most feared warriors in the galaxy.

“My Mam liked the Mandalorians. A few Clans, anyway. They were the only ones she treated with any proper regard, aside from our own men.” Her voice was hardening. “I thought that respect was mutual. I thought your people would respect mine—or at least my mother—enough, at least to not raid my territory, and kill my people. What’s the matter, Mandalore? Is your respect really so valueless? And don’t tell me Clan Toshar didn’t have your permission. I took over their flagship. I saw you sign off on their little misadventure. And I confirmed that it was no forgery.”

Mandalore cringed. “That… that was a mistake on my part, Tiarna. I was signing off on a large number of raids and excursions, and didn’t double-check—”

“BALDERDASH!” the Tiarna roared, her features contorting in rage. “You were testing us! You wanted to see if the Rooks really were on our deathbed, as was the rumor. Well, you’ve had your theory tested. What do you think, now? Do you like the results?!”

Mandalore had to fight to keep his back straight. “N-no, Tiarna. You’ve proven your point.”

“What point?”

“That you’re superior to us in—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

Mandalore sighed. “That… that attacking you was a bad idea—”

“Ding-ding-ding! Bingo!” the red-haired alien clapped once. “Do not attack the Tiarna of Rooks, or her Princedom. Or there will be a reprisal. Just remember that I could’ve really hurt you this time. But I didn’t. I’m funny like that. But this is my promise to you; the next one will make you weep. You, and every last asshole who wears so much as a Beskar co*ck ring!”

“I understand. The true Mandalorians will never again—”

“No need to kneel. Say it standing up.”

“Yes, Tiarna.” Mandalore was grateful for this small gesture of respect. He thought he understood her meaning; she wasn’t here to break him or his people. Just to show him she was serious. He read her terms again, then said them out loud. “The true Mandalorians will never again test your mettle without your permission.”

‘Without her permission.’ This girl wasn’t against the fighting itself, either. She just hated being seen as weak. Or her people getting hurt.

“We will never conspire against you. We will never provide arms and ammunition to anyone trying to take you down. We will never…” he read out the rest of her terms, most of which amounted to ‘we’re sorry for treating you like meat.’

The Tiarna smiled in satisfaction. “Good. I’ll order my men to withdraw. The First Forge will be back in your hands before the hour is out. Don’t worry; I guarantee that it hasn’t been harmed.”

“We’re grateful.”

“You’d better be. Your own people would’ve carried off everything, down to the bolts holding down the furniture. But I’m given to second chances.”

With that, Tiarna Kairegane Rooks stood and marched away. Her right hand, a veteran whom Mandalore recognized from the war, muttered a few phrases into his comm. Moments after their ship had exited the system, Mandalore got a call from the homeworld.

“Mandalore, this is Armad of Clan Cygnus. The Rooks are leaving. The First Forge is back under our control. And so are the Beskar mines on Mandalore and Concordia.”

“Thank goodness,” Mandalore said. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief, and almost fainted into his chair. He’d been wound up since this blasted catastrophe had begun, a mere day ago. He added a few more prayers in Mando’a to punctuate his gratitude. “Pass on the word to all our brothers and sisters. The Rooks have proven their might. They’re off-limits.”

Again.

“Affirmative, Mandalore. If any of us decide to target the Rooks Domain ever again, our own people will send their skulls and armor to Kouhaush Muin.”

“See to it that every last newborn and foundling understand the gravity of this order. Six hours. They beat our garrisons and took control of our most sacred holdings in six f*cking hours. No Mandalorian will ever dream that big again.”

Beside him, Shae Vizla snorted. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you not to condone such a stupid attack. But noooo! You were so f*cking eager to see if we could supplant the Dracogriffs as the greatest fighters in the galaxy! Well, look at you now, ‘Mandalore.’ You just bowed down to an eighteen-year-old child. One who didn’t even lift a finger in this entire, regrettable episode. And you know something? If she had, we’d all be dead.” Jekkiah and Rass Ordo stood on her flanks, as did Raine and Bart Maze. All of his best warriors.

“It seemed like the right call,” Mandalore said reluctantly. “The Rooks were weak after Balmorra—”

“The Rooks only ever treated us with honor and respect,” Raine barked. “Right from the first time we fought them. Even when we clashed on the field of glory, they treated us as equals. They never bombed our cities or farms. They allowed us our rituals and festivals, and gave us our fair share of the spoils when we were allied. And we just broke a decades-long treaty with them without declaring our intentions, then tried to enslave one of their major trading outposts. Under your leadership.”

“They may have forgiven us, but they will never forget,” Bart growled. “We have lost their trust. We can never again regain it.”

Jekkiah’s even-toned voice did not make his words any less impactful. “The prestige gained by entering the Jedi Temple—the stronghold of our ancient enemies—has been lost. The whole galaxy sees our shame. Thousands of worlds laugh at our expense.”

“We won’t challenge your authority,” Shae said. “But you have lost our trust too. We’re your loyal soldiers no longer. From now on, we ‘help’ you for the right games. But our obedience is not a given any more.”

Mandalore the Vindicated tried not to flinch under the barrage of accusations and the declaration. He watched as a full fifth of his warriors followed the dissenters out.

They were right. I made a huge mistake, and I only have myself to blame.

But still… that new Tiarna is more dangerous than I thought she’d be.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a public broadcast began on Imperial channels. Half the Darths of the Council were asking Kairegane Rooks for forgiveness after failing to protect her domain from Angral’s ambitions. All of them were on their knees.

The galaxy has begun to change, he thought. Into something I can’t recognize anymore. I shudder to think of the state it will be in, in twenty-five years.

*

Chapter 25: The Gift of the Noetikons

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5ATC,
Unknown

Yuon Parr giggled wildly, eyes darting from one shifting form to another. This world was full of smog. And since the land was suffused in pools of Dark Side, these swirling blobs each grew a face out of Yuon’s memories. Many of these were people she’d forgotten. Her parents. Her uncles. Her cousin. Her childhood friends. Her Lightsaber cut through them all as they screamed for mercy she had long since abandoned.

Some of these faces called out the worst in her, like her Master and her best friend. She tormented these much longer by twisting them into unnatural positions. A voice cursed in her ear. She turned around at once, her Lightsaber cutting air.

“Parkanas?” she asked. It was him! Her dear, old friend Parkanas! She giggled again, and swung her Lightsaber at his neck, barely phased by how easily he evaded her. “Come now, don’t be shy! It’ll be just like old times!”

“Not like old times,” Parkanas retorted. “This time… it’ll be you who’s left alone in the dark. Nothing can save you now. So by all means, strike me down. Then, you’ll be left with nothing else to keep you company. And you will be forced to face your greatest sin.”

Yuon’s blade struck true this time, separating his heart and stomach into two halves. Even as she laughed madly, there was a part of her that shed unseen tears.

No! It screamed. What am I doing? What have I done?!

*

Coruscant

“How is she?” Devel asked the doctor.

He shook his head in response. “Not good. She attacked us again. Knight Andrew was able to subdue her though. But she nearly killed one of my nurses. We have no other choice; we’ve been forced to restrain her.”

“I understand,” Devel bowed. “Thank you so much for the update.”

“What will you do?” the doctor asked.

“All is in the hands of the Force now,” Devel said sadly. “I will see what I can find in the Archives, but for now, her ailment is beyond me.”

As he exited the clinic, he thought he heard a nurse whispering in shock at his supposed detachment from his Master’s suffering.

*

When Devel returned to his chambers, the protocol droid assigned him spoke up. “Master Jedi? You had several calls from Master Gnost-Dural.”

“Several? Oh my!” Devel was mortified at having to keep a member of the Council waiting on him. He called back at once. His call was picked up after several short minutes, then transferred. “Ah, Master—” It wasn’t Master Gnost-Dural who’d picked up, however.

“Hello Devel,” Master Orgus Din smiled gently. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Master Gnost has left for Keleth. He’s offered to conduct the first of Vajra’s trials.”

“He has?” That was really quite the honor! Devel had not yet met the young lad for himself, but he had definitely made an impression on everyone at the Temple; singlehandedly turning back the Flesh Raiders at the Gnarls, protecting the Kalikori village and even helping them upgrade their defenses, his respect for all life including the Flesh Raiders, and much more. So, he was already deemed worthy of taking his Trials now, was he?

“That’s right. However, he did ask me to pass on an important message in case you called while he was away.” The Master looked at his notes for a second. “‘Dear Devel,’” he read out. “I hope you can forgive me for not being present. My calls were insistent, after all. I thought I’d pass on a lead for you. I do not know if you were given leave to consult with the Noetikons. Or even heard of them. Their existence was deemed a secret over time, a step that became all the more necessary when the Sith returned. They are like Holocrons, but far more powerful. Rather than merely containing a treasure trove of holographic recordings that you could access by conversing with a droidlike keeper, the Noetikons were possessed with virtual intelligence. Each Noetikon had three Gatekeepers, each infused with wisdom and knowledge of the Masters they represented. These Gatekeepers could instruct us in esoteric ways of the Force rather than just show us recordings. Complete with personalized advice and suggestions. We thought them destroyed during the Sacking. Or worse; claimed by the Sith. Fortunately, we have discovered that they were merely taken by scavengers who knew not what they’d stolen. They’re still on Coruscant, and I have promising leads that could narrow down the locations. If you can track down the Noetikons, they might have knowledge that can not only help you heal your master, but also tell us what is going on. And perhaps stop it from happening again.’”

“That sounds promising! How many of these Noetikons were made?”

“Three. The Noetikons of Science, Light, and Secrets. I took a look at these leads for you. The most definite one is in the Galactic Markets, which has fallen under the sway of the so-called Migrant Merchants’ Guild. The Coruscant Security can give you a more thorough briefing and point you in the right direction. They can also look into the other two while you secure that one.”

“I will get on this right away. I won’t fail you.”

“Good.” Master Orgus smiled at the younger Jedi. “I hope you’ll pardon me for saying this, but your love of knowledge is well-known. Noetikons are a marvelous and unparalleled treasure, but it’s Yuon that’s important here. If, in healing her, you find a clue to what might have caused this, I highly recommend you leave the rest of the Noetikons for others to find while you uncover the truth. She, not old relics, are our primary concern.”

Devel winced slightly. “I understand, Master.” The Nautolan left immediately to begin his task.

*

Thankfully, Devel was able to rely on his Camouflage abilities to sneak around the many hostiles between himself and his prizes.

Prizes, plural; for the Noetikons he liberated from the Migrant Merchants Guild and Black Suns didn’t have the information he needed. So he’d needed to find all three.

Each one was even more precious than the briefing had led him to believe; the second he’d activated the first Noetikon—the Noetikon on Science—it had been more akin to entering a classroom than accessing a Holocron. Three ancient Masters had appeared as promised, but two of them—Masters Vandar and Arca—were in the middle of a spirited debate about something. The third—Master Tharis—had interrupted them upon noticing Devel. Yes, ‘noticing.’ Master Arca had even noticed that they were not in the Jedi Temple. Most impressively, they had an echo of a presence in the Force!

These holograms were alive! And they could access the vast majority of the Temple’s entries related to science and technology!

Sadly, Devel had been forced to curtail his curiosity and stick to the main agenda; Yuon’s illness. He’d taken them to the hospital, but they’d surprised him by being unable to diagnose his Master. Instead, they’d concluded that the illness wasn’t physical, physiological, chemical, or psychological, and prompted him to find the Noetikon of Light, hoping that the Mystical knowledge they contained could help.

But Nomi Da-Boda, Noab Hulis, and Wole Vahn had also not held any answers. But Master Nomi had suggested that mind control was involved somehow, which to her meant consulting the Noetikon of Secrets.

The news that Masters Jasper Altax, Bastila Shan, and Chamma of the Noetikon of Secrets had for him was alarming; Yuon’s illness was born from a Dark Side Plague, which was almost certainly being spread by a Plaguemaster. But they also offered a ray of hope: there was a way to free those who had fallen under the Plaguemaster’s curse.

And finally, when he had all three Noetikons in his possession, he was allowed access to a secret chamber deep in the Jedi Temple, where their old matrix lay. It was only when the three were reunited that their true value was revealed.

“A stellar work,” Master Vandar remarked, once the holograms had appeared and greeted each other. “One-part Holocron, one-part computer. Truly ingenious. But I shouldn’t be surprised. It was made by Master Tharis, after all.”

“You are too generous, Master Vandar. It was Master Arca who implemented the designs.”

“And with it, we may sift through thousands of years of Jedi knowledge in an instant. More impressively, we can show you how to use techniques such as the one you’ve come here to learn.”

“Yes,” Master Nomi went on. “We have been gathered here in response to a rising threat. This young Jedi has stepped forward to learn the way to save his ailing Master—and who knows how many others—from a dangerous plague.”

“Are you certain about this?” Master Chamma asked.

“Be sure about your answer,” Master Altax said mournfully. “Powers like this claim a toll on those who wield them. Remember that this technique’s inventor died after overusing it. He was forced to sacrifice his own vitality with each Healing.”

“That sacrifice is not really a sacrifice for a Jedi,” Devel said. “We live to serve. We follow the will of the Force. If my life is what saves even one person, it was worth it.”

He paid attention to the Masters as they explained the many complex theories behind this Healing technique, and required a full day to learn the Shielding technique itself. It was exhausting work, but intense study was Devel’s calling.

“Remember,” Master Vandar cautioned. “This is only a temporary measure. The Plaguemaster is still out there, and they will continue to be a threat. Moreover, your lost vitality will only return when you no longer have to Shield your charges. That is to say, when you have severed the connection between Plaguemaster and victim.”

“How do I sever that tie?”

“Death was what broke Terrak Morrhage’s hold. But there may be another way.”

“You now have the knowledge to save your Master,” Master Noab said. “Now go, and use it wisely.”

“Thank you, Masters.”

Devel collected the precious relics and left the husk of the Temple the same way as he’d come. But it was a different experience. Earlier, his head had only had room for the spectacle he had been about to witness. But now, he noticed the devastation around him. Memories of the day the Sith came, flooded back into his head. The crash from the shuttle’s landing. The screams, the shouts, the explosions… the stink of Death in the pristine waters of the Force. Master Ven’s death at the hands of Darth Malgus.

And Aryn’s departure from the Order.

“That was then,” he told himself. “You can’t change the past. But perhaps you can salvage enough to build a better future. Starting with Master Yuon.”

*

Back at the Clinic

Since it was his first time performing the Shielding Technique, it took Devel thirty-eight minutes to get it right. At least he’d already had sufficient experience Mending Psyches to See Yuon’s besieged mind, and separate the damaged zones from her true self. And finally, the Noetikons’ description allowed him to recognize the web-thin threads that had attached themselves to her mind, allowing a slow corruption. He wished he could burn these off just like regular spider webs, but that was beyond him. He did, however, manage to halt the invasion as he’d been taught.

And also as warned, the toll was claimed at once. It was more than Devel had been prepared for. He felt a little dizzy, his breath coming in gasps like he’d run a kilometer. His vision went black, and he almost felt like a void out there was calling for his soul. When he opened his eyes, he almost wondered if it had been death itself about to claim him. But that was fanciful.

Yuon also gasped, her back arching and her eyes snapping open. The nurses and doctors hastened over to check her vitals. “Everything’s looking good,” the doctor said in surprise. “She’s quite exhausted, but you’ve halted the worst of it!”

“It worked then!” Devel panted.

“Are you alright sir?” one of the nurses asked.

“A little exhausted. Apparently, this can kill me, if I’m not strong enough.”

“Oh, Padawan!” Yuon cried weakly. “What has happened? Where am I? What have I done? And why are you looking so weak?”

Devel smiled at her reassuringly. “Once the good doctors are satisfied that you can take a little excitement, I will explain everything to you, Master.”

*

Senate Tower
Jedi Council Meeting Chamber

Devel looked around as he entered the new seat of Jedi operations on Coruscant. It was a lot like the same room in the Coruscant Temple—and all Jedi Temples Devel had ever visited—but something about this felt… different.

Grand Master Satele sat at the head, with only Masters Syo and Kaedan at her side. Master Gnost was transmitting from Tython.

“Welcome to the Council Chamber, Devel,” Master Satele greeted him warmly. “We’ve been informed that you were successful. In both your quests.”

“Yes, Masters. I have the Noetikons with me. I will take them to Tython as soon as we can arrange a military shuttle.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Master Kaedan said. “We’ll get to the ‘why’ in just a bit. But first, we need to hear your report in full.”

“As you wish, Master. This Jedi Order has seen this epidemic of madness before. Many eons past, a Sith Lord named Terrak Morrhage created a plague which allowed him to madden and enslave many dozens of Jedi. A Healer, whose name has been tragically forgotten, analyzed the ritual and created a counter, though it was a costly one. A Shielding Ritual that temporarily freed the victims at the cost of his strength. He died after that final battle, the strain too much for his body to bear.”

“And you were forced to perform this Shielding Ritual,” Master Syo said worriedly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Devel admitted. “I think… I think my stamina took a dip. I already need to rest more than I used to. But we are extremely fortunate. It turns out that the one spreading the Plague, the ‘Plaguemaster,’ can only do so through direct contact. And they need a fairly long cooling-off period between attacks. But Yuon started showing signs almost half a year ago, which means the Plaguemaster could’ve taken over no more than four Jedi, though that number will increase the longer he eludes us. If the Order can quickly discover which of us are showing signs, if any, I can protect them. And with even more of the Force’s mercy, perhaps we can discover who the new Plaguemaster is, and where we can find him.”

“This ritual,” Master Gnost said. “How easy is it to learn? How costly?”

Devel hesitated. “Forgive me if it appears I’m bragging by putting it this way, Master. But there are many complex theories behind this Shielding. Furthermore, I was only able to do it quickly due to having specialized as a Healer, for years. I think only a handful of us can learn it in less than a month. And it will be too much for any who aren’t highly gifted in the Force.”

“I was afraid of this,” Master Gnost sighed. “This means that the burden of Healing all the Masters falls on you.”

“In the meantime, see if the victims remember anything at all that can help us find the new Plaguemaster,” Master Satele said. “When the time comes, you will have all the backup you need to triumph.”

“Of course, Master. I already learned a name from Yuon. Lord Vivicar. Perhaps I can find out more about him when I reach Tython. On that subject—”

“Ah, yes,” Master Kaedan gave him a smile. “We suspected that this task would fall to you. Speed is paramount; the faster you can move about, the less time the agent of Darkness has to find more victims. We have arranged a ship for you; a Corellian Defender-class Corvette. You will also have pilot and steward droids to make things easier for you.”

“I am deeply grateful for the gift, Master. I promise to use it wisely. I will bring the Noetikons to Tython, where they will be safe. Once that’s done, I will spread the gift of the Noetikons among all who need them.”

“Thank you, Devel. We will try to help you speed this along, so as few Jedi are overtaken as possible. Keep your burden to a minimum. You may leave at once.”

*

Chapter 26: The Fall of Grathan

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5 ATC,
Grathan’s Estate, Dromund Kaas

Lord Avernale did not much like this new silence that had fallen over the Estate recently. For years, Grathan had been the largest center of all political upheaval on the Imperial Capital. The Dark Council was unwilling to truly exert the force needed to unseat him, but they’d still put enough pressure on the estate that it felt like a war was on.

And in turn, Grathan’s allies and servants all made them weep. Many cursed the Dark Council in their final moments, demanding to know why they refused to send appropriate levels of force.

Grathan had made his sprawling holdings the center of cutting-edge research in both cybernetics and Sith alchemy. Sentients had been turned into a wide variety of soldiers, ranging from Sithspawn to cyborg soldiers. Turrets had been invented that generated nearly ten times the power of others their size. Lesser Sith had been enhanced and augmented to become many times their former strength.

But sometime during the past four weeks, the gears of greatness had ground to a halt. Avernale didn’t know what had caused it. To the untrained eye, it seemed like they were random. Caused by people who just happened to need something destroyed or stolen from the estate. Or a single scientist killed.

But Avernale knew there was no such thing as coincidence of this scale. Their scientists and alchemists had all been killed during heists. One of those, Adela, was slain by someone attempting to steal Revan’s old mask, of all things! And Hugo Kollins had been killed by someone searching for missing soldiers who had been drafted into the cyber squad program¹!

Zash’s apprentice had killed their other major cybernetics expert while looking for a prototype shieldbreaker.

Tiarna Kairegane Rooks had slain the Sithspawn and killed their Deputy Chief alchemist, Iksan Tressian because she thought they were an abomination.

Theovor Mindak just… died, under the most mysterious circ*mstances.

And now, Grathan’s many allies were finding themselves at each other’s throats. They had betrayed each other out of the blue, though the reasons at least, were understandable. It was just the timing, as if someone had shared that evidence with them with the express purpose of getting them to kill one another.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Lord Grathan’s ironclad confidence had been shaken by the butchering his wife and only son in their stronghold, by Baras’ pet, that crazy gutterborn slug which called itself Vemrin. He was paranoid and withdrawn now, most of his energy occupied in strengthening his defenses.

But how? How had this happened?

As he lay awake, pondering their waning fortunes, attempting mightily to find a way out of their predicament, his intercom chimed. It was Selma’s clearance codes, his most trusted servant.

“Enter,” he said tiredly.

Selma looked more afraid than usual. “I bring news, Dark Lord. Lord Grathan stirs within his castle.”

What? “At last!” he cried. “Quickly, seal the room. Follow me to my study.” It was his most secure room, windowless and swept clean of all bugs. Only one way in or out.

He allowed Selma to go in first, then locked the door behind him. “Give me your news.”

“He has fresh orders for you, Dark Lord. He demands that…”

“That I wha—?” He didn’t even see the dagger coming. It buried itself deep in his gut. He could tell at once that it was laced with a powerful venom, but worse was the electric charge that paralyzed him. “Selma?”

But it wasn’t Selma. The woman’s face shimmered and morphed into one he didn’t know. A dark-haired, light-skinned woman with a foxy grin on her face. “Hey there, stranger. I thought you were happy to see me again, but then I realized it was just the dagger in your pants. Well. Above your pants.”

“Who—who are you?”

“You don’t remember me? That’s just hurtful. I’m Cipher Nine.”

As she said that, her face shimmered again, briefly becoming one he was slightly more familiar with. She was almost sickly pale, with short blonde hair, and tired but intelligent, yellow eyes. “Y-y-you—”

“Yes. Me. Your plant in Imperial Intelligence. Your tool to take control. I’m sorry about the double-cross, but recent events have changed my perspective. You see, I realized that Imperial Intelligence cannot be allowed to falter. Without them—without us—the Empire is vulnerable to threats like the Eagle. Intelligence is just barely able to keep up with the many, many snakes and scorpions lurking just out of sight. Terrorists, revolutionaries, rebels, the SIS… and your hostile takeover would’ve allowed several of them to gain the upper hand. So, you see… you have to go. Well, perhaps I’m not so sad, after all. The things your allies have been doing over here make my stomach turn. I decided that the galaxy needs Imperial Intelligence more than it needs Lord Grathan. And it needs Cipher Nine more than it needs… well… me.” She took a deep breath. “Well, would you look at that? I was rather more chatty than I’d intended. I just felt—I felt like—like I’m not just killing you today. I’m killing this woman too.” She indicated herself. “Embracing the Cipher. She is needed. I am not. I suppose I deserve one last, sad soliloquy. Goodbye, Lord Avernale. Thank you for your part in Mercy Tanniels' birth.” With that, she stabbed Avernale again, in the throat this time.

She was leaving before he even hit the ground.

*

The Dark Citadel

Vemrin ran into Darth Baras’ chambers like he was in a race against darkness itself. The fat Darth was in the grip of a tantrum, screaming and stamping, and throwing things around.

“My Lord,” he said, prostrating himself. “You summoned?”

“LORD GRATHAN IS DEAD! ALL OF HIS COHORTS ARE DEAD!”

“What? But… but how?”

“WHY IN BLAZES DO YOU THINK I WOULD KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION, APPRENTICE? YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE ALLOWED IT TO HAPPEN, IF I KNEW WHAT WAS HAPPENING?”

“Forgive me, my Lord! I am but your humble Apprentice! I do not know…”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING, CHILD! AND YOU ARE LESS THAN AN APPRENTICE, YOU ARE MY CUDGEL! NOTHING MORE!”

“Forgive me, my lord!”

With effort, the great Darth calmed himself down. “I need to find out who did this,” he said. His voice was soft now, but no less dangerous for it.

“Yes, my Lord! I will find out for you!”

“Yes, you will. Or you will suffer. This is your most crucial task now, Apprentice.”

“What of the Padowon?”

“The Padawan. I’ll contact Tiarna Rooks. She’s already on Balmorra. She should be willing to go on this hunt for me. Perhaps she could be persuaded to find her for me.”

Vemrin did not dare object. Finding this Padawan was to be his assignment, one he’d been looking forward to. A Jedi Apprentice? And a female one, at that? He’d been dreaming and dreaming about his departure for days now!

He could only hope to find a creature he could torment. He was starting to regret having sold that Twi’lek to the Tiarna. He’d already spent all those funds on wine and women, and a few luxury speeders he’d promptly crashed. He needed something. He needed—

“Vemrin… I hope you’re not resentful about missing out on the Padawan assignment?”

“No my Lord! Of course not!”

“Good. Because I was going to take you off that one even before I got this news. You provide results, that much is true. But only in your one, single role. You are no investigator, you are no hound, you are no diplomat. You are a blunt club. And I will use you as one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. I’ve given you a list of people to start shaking down. Approach them in the dark, rough them up a little, and see what you can find. Start with the retired agent in Sector two. Go now!”

“Yes, my Lord! At once!”

Vemrin ran out of Baras’ office, all thoughts of his disgrace forgotten. He would find out who killed Lord Grathan. He swore it on his life!

*

Chapter 27: Every Nail in my Arsenal

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

4 ATC,
Mandalorian Enclave, Dromund Kaas

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Assistant Huntmaster Lek called, his sonorous voice carrying his words to every ear in the arena. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for has arrived! The grand melee! The winner gets a grand prize of fifty thousand credits, and entry into the Great Hunt! Candidates, are you ready? On my mark… Three… two… one… fight!”

Mark made the first kill. With everyone moving into evasive mode to avoid the sudden hail of blaster shots, Mark’s onboard targeting allowed him to pick out his targets with ease. He shot as he rolled, clipping the Twi’lek with the assault cannon between the eyes, the Rodian with a grenade launcher in the throat, and a Gamorrean in the eye. Someone else took out the only other person unsporting enough to use an assault cannon. He whirled around, drawing his daggers to intercept the incoming vibro-axe. All three weapons broke thanks to his strength. He kicked the surprised Cathar in the face. Again, his strength was enough to crumple her skull.

He took a shot to the shoulder, but ignored it. Even if it got through his armor, he still had a full tank of medical equipment; it would take a headshot or an exploded torso to stop him. He activated his flame thrower, lighting a contestant on fire, then kicked him into another one beyond him. He shot at someone hurling daggers at those around him, and missed. The second shot got her, though.

There was only one other contestant left, a large human with a weird haircut. Even for Dromund Kaas. With an arrogant grin, Mark put away his guns and gestured for the man to do his worst. The human grinned and put away his blaster in favor of a vibrosword and dagger. He looked like he knew how to use it.

“You’re a good bruiser!” the swordsman called. “But have you had any training? Skill beats brawn ten out of ten times, and I have both! You shoulda stuck to guns!”

“Those sh*tty f*cks in Grathan’s estate said the same. I killed them all; squashed them like buzzing insects.”

Mark waited patiently. His opponent entered with a fluid grace that he felt a grudging respect for. He evaded the first few blows and sidestepped the fifth. He kicked a dead contestant’s vibroaxe into the air and caught it. He slapped the sword aside again and again, his cybernetics analyzing the attacks over a minute of fending them off. He wondered if he could replicate it, but then decided against it. Those swords were flimsy. He needed a fighting style that matched his synthetic body. He changed tactics, slamming the axe hilt so hard on the man’s dagger hand that it broke bones. He took advantage of the man’s momentary paralysis and broke his sternum with another hilt bash. The man fell to the floor. Mark finished him off by burying the axe in his head.

He pulled it out, surprised that it hadn’t broken or chipped from cleaving armor and bone. “I like this!” he said in satisfaction. “I’m going to keep it.”

He raised the axe in triumph. His applause was lukewarm, though some—including the Huntmaster and Assistant—were happier.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a winner! Mark Fodorn and his teammate, Mako, advance to the Great Hunt! Congratulations, Mark Fodorn. You get some time off, now. You will be called forth once more, the same time next week."

Everyone cheered. Almost everyone. A man in Mandalorian armor walked out of the crowd. “Enough of this farce!” he screamed, red-faced and sweaty. “This is simply ridiculous! This needs to stop right now.”

Mark turned around, cold as a cucumber. “Blood,” he said conversationally.

“BLOOOD!” Mako shrieked. Leaping over the stands, she ran to Mark’s side and drew her blaster.

“No!” Assistant Huntmaster Lek screamed, coming between Mark and Blood. He didn’t even flinch standing between six drawn blasters. “No unsanctioned kills!”

The muscular man grinned, showing all of his front teeth. The man had guts. If only he weren’t in his way.

“You see?” Blood asked eagerly. “This beast knows nothing of honour, nothing of our ways! He does not belong in this prestigious hunt! His credentials are a lie fabricated by his gutter rat of a sidekick!”

“Funny,” Mark continued to smile. He jerked his head in the arena’s general direction. “There’s twenty downed and dying hunters who’re screaming the exact opposite.”

They were screaming, those that hadn’t died yet, but trying to discern anything at all was a bit of a stretch.

“Congratulations,” Blood scowled. “You’re a brute who can kill. This is a place of honor! A competition of the elites! You are no Mandalorian!”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “Apparently the prerequisite for being one of your kind is GUTLESSNESS!” His voice suddenly grew into a loud roar. His volume, coupled with the way this arena was built, meant that every Mandalorian in this Enclave heard his words.

Mako shifted uncomfortably. “Mark, you do know they’ll start shooting at me when they’re done with you, right?”

The big guy ignored her. “Did you hear me? GUTLESS!” He roared. “Every one of you knows Blood is stacking the decks. He’s bribing and intimidating his competition, and killing their teams! He even influenced someone... from the administration, to give his deadliest opponents the hardest, most impossible preliminary hunts, so they wouldn’t clean out his clock later!” He paused and looked around. His eyes zeroed in on the few that flinched. His grin tightened as he held them frozen in his glare. Mako gulped. Maybe she hoped Mark wouldn’t make her go with him when he paid them a visit later.

“You all knew that he is tainting this ‘Hunt’ of yours,” Mark continued. “Something which I was given to understand it was your most hallowed tradition. How did Blood put it? This ‘place of honor’? This ‘competition of elites’? And none of you are doing a thing about it! You pretend there are rules, then hide behind them, also hiding how utterly weak and incompetent you are! If you Mandos really were the proudest, most honorable warriors like your reputations made you out to be, you wouldn’t allow cowardice and corruption to poison your ranks. You’re a civilization of raiders, pillagers, pirates, bandits, slavers, and sniveling wimps with fancy armor and an intimidating name. Nothing more! I dare any one of you to stand before me, and prove me wrong; one-on-one. Go on.”

Many continued to glare at him. But more and more were starting to show signs of shame. None took him up on his challenge. But none did anything about the offending slimeball either.

Mark leered at Blood, who was glaring so hard that a vein popped in his brow. “It’s fine. Killing you now would be more than you deserve, little lizard. You suffer a little first. I’m gonna make you dance with your unscaled little belly seeing what sunlight looks like for the first time. I’m in this hunt, like it or not. If anyone gets in my way, or hurts my partner… I’ll show you just how garbage the word ‘Mandalorian’ really is. Anyone care to rise up to my taunts? Defend the honor of the famous Mandalorians?” He looked around and laughed. “I thought not.”

He made to leave. But he turned at the door. “Oh, by the way, Lek...?” he called. “No unsanctioned kills, right?”

“Yes,” the man agreed, finding his voice. “Nor can you hamper his ability to fight in any way!”

“Got it.”

There was no warning, no pause for aim, no wind up. Just a casual flick of his fingers, and a serrated blade shot towards Tarro.

“Hurk!” The man gasped. His eyes were drawn downward at the thin strip of metal sticking out from his groin. He stared at it in shock for a moment. Then his screaming began. “AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!” He cried. “AAAARRRRGH! f*ck! f*ck!”

“Say that word all you like, Blood,” Mark sneered. “You will never f*ck again.” He looked at Lek. “Those balls were a lie anyway.”

With that, he turned and left.

The room was ruled by shocked silence. Blood’s screams had faded into piteous weeping.

When the first sob emerged, Mako realized she’d started giggling at some point. With no more shrieks, her laughter seemed like the loudest thing in the room.

“He called himself Tarro Blood?” she joked. “I see a lot more piss than blood...”

It wasn’t the most inventive jokes, but... several Mandalorians bit their lips. Others joined in on the giggling. But Huntmaster Wookiee led a dozen others in raucous laughter.

<I like it!> he roared. <A punishment fit for his dishonorable conduct! Tarro Blood is now to be called ‘Tarro Piss’!>

The fire began to spread, and in no time at all, everyone was laughing hysterically. It didn’t even take an hour until every Mandalorian in the galaxy was referring to him as Tarro Piss.

Take that, Mako thought. The first blow. Or the second, I suppose.

*

Apprentice Seamus Pritch had been alone for almost three days now. He knew because of the chrono on the wall. Ever since that Force-blind had spirited him away from Lord Grathan’s estate. The only company he’d had was a minder droid. A non-talkative one. For a change he’d have preferred the other variety. This one kept him fed and clean, but not much else. The chain holding him to a pipe was just long enough for him to reach the fresher if he stretched, and the only comfortable sleeping position was sitting in the corner.

He was alone, he was cramped, and he was desperate for any kind of person he could talk to. Even his abductor.

No sooner had the thought passed his mind than he heard the door open.

He jumped onto his feet and cringed as the Hunter’s eyes found him.

“You’ve got this place nice and smelly,” the cyborg grunted. “But it’s still kind of an upgrade from your last quarters, right?”

“Yes sir,” he moaned. And it was. “The confinement aside, this room is cleaner than my previous accommodation. And my fellow apprentices were always fighting each other, never knowing why. It’s taken till now for the futility of our head-butting to finally dawn on me. It’s not like we would get anything by it. No reward of any kind, not even a bigger portion of tasteless stew at the mess. There was no bone teasing us along. We fought and killed each other just because.”

He had felt so relieved to be away from that rabid infighting that he was glad for the quiet those first three days. But now he wanted someone talking to him. Anyone.

“Please, sir. Let me go. I’ll do anything. I swear. If you want a slave, I’ll be a slave. Just don’t lock me up again… alone.”

“Not to worry,” the big alien grinned. “I accept your proposal. I don’t need a slave, but I do need an extra set of hands. And there is something extra special you can help me with.”

“I’ll do everything I can to please you.”

“Good!” he clapped Seamus’ shoulders. His knees buckled. The Hunter pulled out a tube from his pack, and Seamus knew exactly what that was.

“A Lightsaber.”

“Exactly,” the cyborg nodded. “Your primary purpose for the next few weeks is to teach me how to use and maintain one.”

Seamus’s jaw dropped.

“Relax.” he pulled out a bunch of stones from his pockets. “No one needs to know these came from Sith. We can say we took em from Jedi. And with these crystals,” he nodded at the grey stones. “The blades will not draw attention.”

Seamus squinted. “Those crystals... are those lightsaber crystals?”

“Yes.”

“Unbelievable!” They were slate gray, cloudy and dull. There were two of them, nearly identical. “If I may ask, where did you get them?”

“I nicked a few from Grathan’s estate. They seem to have lost some of their luster. Do you know why that is?”

“Maybe...” Seamus scratched his head. “Certain types of lightsaber crystals, like the kyber crystal, can be turned by intense meditation. They call it ‘bleeding the crystal’. Maybe someone half-assed these.”

“It doesn’t make them weaker?”

“Oh, no Sir! At least, not to a Force-blind. A red blade just helps Sith draw on their rage more easily. I’d wager these ones are just as deadly as the brightest ones.”

“Interesting.”

“Sir...” Seamus started hesitantly. “There’s a reason so few non-Sensitives take up sabers. They’re dangerous to control. You may just as easily hurt yourself as your enemy.”

The man chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. I’m cybernetically enhanced. Even my brain.” He tapped his skull with a thumb. “I can keep up with the run-of-the-mill Jedi and Sith. How do you think I beat so many of Grathan’s thugs?”

Seamus laughed uncomfortably.

“The lightsabers will be just one more set of tools in my arsenal. Backup for when I need a nigh-unstoppable blade. Or a good surprise. I’m aiming for the biggest prizes in the galaxy. I’ll need every nail in my arsenal in order to catch em.”

“If I may ask… why a Lightsaber? Don’t you already have a strong axe? It looks like it’s made of Beskar.”

“Even Beskar can only take so much punishment. Besides, it can’t do that deflecting thing that I’ve seen Sith do. Now, what can you teach me?”

“I’m a humble graduate of Lorbegh’s Academy on Gamorr. All they taught me was Form I, Shii-cho. It’s rather basic, as far as the Forms go. But perhaps that’s what suits you. It too can be used for deflection.”

“Which one’s best?”

“Form III. It’s the most defensive of the seven forms.”

“Why bother? The best defense is killing all the enemies.”

“I suppose this is true.”

“I wanna learn enough to surprise the odd Jedi or Sith, should it come down to it. A last resort.”

“Very wise, Sir.”

“Let’s begin right away. Stand.” The Hunter drew two training vibroswords and offered one to the Apprentice.

“Good. Now follow me. We have a few gutless Hunt organizers to terrorize.”

*

Chapter 28: Hard Lesson

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5 ATC,
Ord Mantell

Roban Queens wished he’d started his first assignment in a more dignified way. But the pilots had given them such a rough ride that he and Tatiana both stumbled into the fresher to hurl before disembarking.

“Thank y’all! Thank y’all! Thank y’all!” The inane Captain cried delightedly with a few hiccups. “Fer flahyin wi’ the Party Crashers!”

“Sorry bou’ the turbyoolence,” her First Mate said softly. “Them Sepertissts really got them hands on s’m hardware. Air up there was thick with AA fire.”

“Got it,” Tatiana groaned. “But were all those extra flipflops really necessary—urk!”

“Mebe we got a leel carrid away,” Captain Stede giggled.

“Who gave you a license anyway?” Roban complained. “You were flying drunk! I have half a mind to report you!”

“Ohhh, don do dat, Horny!” the Captain grinned. “How mai s’pposed tuh blow up Mandos n Pirates n Imp scum, if ah can’t flai?”

“And transport R’public troops inta hot zones?” the First Mate added. “We were the only ones willin’ teh do the job, raight? Yoo askt n askt n askt. The ma’am there even begged. But it was only us that was willin’ to get you down ‘ere. We make runs like this on a daily basis. Sure, our rates are steep, but good people who need stuff end up gettin’ it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roban sighed. The Armed Forces were desperate. Rules were overlooked for talented, loyal individuals. For all their recklessness, this pair had a proven track record for both. “I’m sorry. You did a good job. Please keep mocking bad guys and shooting down Imps and Mandos. Much obliged.”

“Thaaa’s tha spirit!” The Captain roared. “C’mere, let’s drink teh a landing happily achieved!”

“No thanks,” Tiana mumbled. “We’re technically on duty right now. Maybe come and see us later? Up in the Fort?”

“Right-o!” The Captain nodded. She gave a drunken, wonky salute. “Ah’ll be seein yeh, soldiers! Kick some ass fer us!”

“For the Republic,” the Mate’s salute was a bit more natural.

“For the Republic,” Roban and Tatiana repeated.

As they left, a short man with shoulder-length dark hair and a centipede-like tattoo on his face smiled at them. He began praising the crew of two before their feet had even hit the floor.

“We sure do get a bunch of odd characters in this line of work,” Tatiana muttered.

“I wish it was only contracted civilians who did this kind of sh*t. Sadly, we even see soldiers with that kind of sense. War has really been bad for us.”

“At least it’s over, for now.”

“… yeah. Four years, and I’m still not used to the idea. We joined up to fight for the Republic, but lost before we could even graduate.”

“Let’s… get going. I’m sure our chaperone is waiting for us.”

“Despite everything… I gotta say. I’m excited.”

“Me too, Ban. Me too.”

They found a tall human with dark skin and white teeth bared in a delighted smile waiting for them outside the warehouse. “Well, hello there, my precious juniors! Welcome to Ord Mantell!”

“Good afternoon Sir!” both soldiers saluted as smartly as they could. “Sergeant Roban Queens, and Sergeant Tatiana Horakova reporting for duty.”

“At ease, soldiers. Come on. I’ve gone and secured us one hell of a ride” He led them some distance away, where an armored walker waited for them behind some cover. “This walker was returning home from a scouting expedition. The Corporal kindly agreed to my request to wait a bit longer.”

“Gave us an excuse to stretch our legs,” a soldier grinned. “Outside the Fort, I mean. That dickhe*d, Jorgan, doesn’t allow us that kind of break.”

“‘The only time you get to stretch, is when the enemy is tanning your hides,’” someone did an evil, growly imitation of some drill sergeant from hell. Everyone chuckled, including their chaperone.

“Hop right in. We’ll head out in a couple of minutes. So I’m Lieutenant Bex Kolos,” their nanny introduced himself. “But I prefer ‘Gearbox’. I’m Havoc’s Tech Specialist. I wonder what your codenames will be. And no, ‘Queens’ is not allowed, given it’s your real name. Rather cool name. Though you look more like a Princess to me.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but not so much as the person wearing seven-foot-long lacey wedding gown, who’s standing in front of me. You… have some birds sitting on your tiara.”

Gearbox guffawed with laughter. “You don’t like the armor? Get used to it, kid! We’ve got yours waiting for you. The Commander wants to give it to you, personally!”

“The Commander?” Horakova asked hopefully. “Tavus? Is he really here?”

“Well, why wouldn’t he? Havoc Squad is just us five people—now seven. We don’t get sent out on solo ops. Except for the occasional chaperone duty.”

“How’d you get picked for this, Sir? Lost a bet?”

“I wish! No, the others were all busy with something or the other. I’m the only one right now with some time on his hands.”

“Sure you wanted to waste your downtime on us?”

“Well, it’s not a waste.” He motioned them forward. “That soldier wasn’t kidding. Jorgan is a real ass. Any command center that has him in it, is instantly tainted. Instantly.”

“Surely, you don’t have to leave the Fort just to get away from him?”

“I may not have something to keep me busy, but I’m on duty right now. I can’t leave my post without orders, or an assignment. I was considering joining the trash collectors, when word of your arrival reached us.”

Queens looked at Horakova, who also looked annoyed. They hated that kind of officer.

“Although it’s early, I thought I’d fill you in on the mission. The Separatists got their hands on one of our deadlier warheads, the ZR-57 Orbital Strike bomb.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Those weapons are tightly regulated! Multiple layers of security would have to be breached to steal one!”

“Even we aren’t allowed to use them, without a dozen specialists to handle it!”

“Exactly. But that’s beyond the scope of our mission right now. Our job, is to get it back. Nothing more, nothing less. And Havoc Squad always gets the job done.”

“You can say that again, sir.”

“If you don’t mind my asking… why did we get called in?” Tatiana asked. “We’re… well. Rookies. Typically, new members are assigned after having proven their capabilities, right?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, guys. I heard about the massacre. Surviving an attack by half a dozen blixii? I doubt we could’ve done that, even. Takes a lot of luck, but even more skill. And teamwork. You may be rookies, but you’re battle tested. Besides. That kind of thing is for the higher-ups to decide. We just follow orders.”

The soldiers started piling in, and the walker started moving. A few minutes later, the bucket of bolts was in motion. Everyone was very friendly, chatting with both Roban and Tatiana like old brothers-in-arms.

Everyone went quiet as shells began exploding around them. Everyone except Gearbox, who might as well have been at a tea party.

“Nothing like riding a hundred-ton walker right through the middle of a combat zone, eh kids?”

Everyone in the walker laughed.

The pilot’s voice emerged from the intercom. <Approaching Drelliad Village, sir. Scopes show small arms fire and enemy movements in all quarters. Separatists are definitely moving on all quarters.

“Just another lovely day on Ord Mantell.”

“So about the objective,” Roban asked Gearbox conversationally.

“The Seps seem to have picked it off a downed transport. There’s no telling where these grimy bushwhackers have hidden it. They have support and hideouts everywhere. Finding it hasn’t been easy.”

“How long has it been missing for?”

“A day and a half. They’d need the codes in order to use it, but if they can get their hands on talented slicers, our goose is cooked.”

“So it’s a race against time?”

“The top brass ain’t too worried. But I am. Just coz they can’t use it now, doesn’t mean they won’t accidentally trigger a failsafe and blow it up. Even if we don’t like them, these people are Republic citizens. We owe it to them to keep em safe. Even if it is from their own stupidity.”

“Yessir!” Both soldiers said.

“Seriously, stop with the ‘Sir,’ we’re in the field—” The walker was hurled sideways. Roban was already pulling down the visor before the walker hit the ground. He didn’t need the pilot’s panicked message to tell him that they’d been hit by AP missiles.

Once the walker had come to a halt, it took several more impacts to the fore. Horakova hit the intercom. “Pilot? Pilot!”

“He’s gone!”

“No time, get out of the vehicle, now!”

Gearbox’s warning came just in time. All soldiers scrambled out just in time to avoid the armor penetrating rocket that destroyed the passenger section.

“Dammit!”

“We gotta take out those seps!”

“Did anyone see where the rockets came from?”

Roban chanced a quick look. “Looking at where the hole in the co*ckpit is… I’d say it was from Drelliad Village!”

“It’s not far,” Horakova said. “I can cloak and attack from the rear, if someone can create a diversion for me.”

“I didn’t hear our munitions go off,” Roban said. “I can get a few crates out, then attack the gates.”

“We’d like to join you,” the soldiers stepped forward. Their spokesman was a sergeant with a thick moustache, who’d introduced himself as Blyes.

“This could be dangerous,” Roban warned them. “We’re attacking an entrenched enemy head on, without any cover, or support. I have my personal shield, but—”

“We get it, sir. But this is what we signed up for. And hiding with our tails between our legs after losing our tank… I can’t do it. We can’t do it.”

“Pol and Jeremy were our friends,” another soldier named Bethany said. “The pilots. We’ve been together for almost seven months now. We need some payback for their deaths.”

“Yeah!” Fjord shouted. “Let’s rack up some kills!”

“Alright then.”

Gearbox spoke up. “Blyes, what experience do you have leading this kind of attack?”

“None, Sir.”

“Then Queens here takes charge. I’m gonna see if we can salvage this tank.”

Roban addressed the men. “So that’s how it is. Don’t rush in, don’t stick your necks out, and don’t forget the objective.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Roban pulled out a few cases of munitions from the walker, thankful that they’d not been hit. He passed the grenades and rocket launchers around, then waited for Horakova’s signal.

Once they got it, he ordered the men forward. They began dodging fire immediately. Roban waited for Horakova’s second signal—which indicated that she was well outside the blast zone—before firing his rocket. The other soldiers fired off their own rockets one at a time, every time a new batch of soldiers reached the entrance. Pretty soon, they were out of rockets, but there were dozens of dead hostiles lining the gates.

*

Sergeant Tatiana Horakova had great confidence in her stealth. Where most people needed to slow down to almost a crawl while cloaked, she was willing to jog, only slowing down when she was close enough to the enemy to kick them in the shins.

The seppies started shooting less than a minute after she’d sent her first signal. Ban moved hella fast, that was for sure. She sent the second signal when she was about thirty meters away from the gates before mentally tuning out the rest of the team so she could focus on her mission.

She scaled a nearby comm tower to get a better view of the surroundings. This village was a bombed-out shell. Not a single building was left untouched by violence. Furthermore, it seemed completely militarized. Not a single civilian remained either, from what she could tell. Except perhaps, for those who were in hiding.

Pretty soon, she identified three rebels guarding weapons caches. They were hidden behind a short barricade, and covered by shadows, so she could easily take em all out without being spotted.

Which was exactly what she did. She stealthily approached each guard in turn from behind, stabbed them in the neck, and set a charge on each crate. She set the first charge for five minutes, the second for three, and the last for one. Her timing was almost flawless. Three fireballs bloomed within seconds of each other. Tatiana grinned to herself. On her way out, she saw that someone had engaged the few Separatists still guarding the south entrance.

On closer look, she saw it was Captain Stede, the pilot who’d dropped them into this world. Before she could decide on whether or not the loud drunk needed her help, she and her First Mate had taken them out.

Nice shooting, she thought to herself, as she began to jog back to friendly lines. Roban and the others had fallen back the second they’d heard the charges go off, but they should still be waiting for her by the downed tank.

As she crossed the gate, she noticed that the Fort was almost visible from where she stood.

Almost. Dang, that’s a long ways off! I’d hate to walk the rest of the way!

She needn’t have worried.

“Tiana!” Ban called the second she decloaked. He frowned. “You’re covered in blood.”

“Not mine.”

“Thank goodness. Come on. Gearbox has managed to restore some functionality to the walker.”

The other soldiers gathered around her, thumping her shoulders and shaking her hands.

“Awesome work, Sir!”
“Wish we coulda seen the looks on the seppies’ faces!”
“Those were some pretty fireworks!”

“Nice job with that distraction,” Tatiana grinned back. “You almost cleared that place of all hostiles.”

“Yeah,” Roban agreed. “We should contact HQ, ask them to send in a force to take the village. Or at least demolish the walls.”

“Way ahead of you, Sergeant!” Gearbox grinned. “The fort will be sending over a few companies of soldiers, along with sappers. This village will no longer be a threat to us. Nice going!”

“They weren’t the best,” Ban shrugged modestly. “The enemy, I mean. The brightest must’ve died in prior raids. Or maybe they’re out causing trouble of their own, having left behind just enough rats to keep us away.”

“True. But it’s still a load off our shoulders. Come on. Let’s get back to the fort, and get you some well-deserved drinks!”

“Assuming Jorgan doesn’t have something to say about that,” Blyes grumbled.

“Hey, Ban? You won’t believe who I ran into back there.”

*

Fort Garnik

“Right this way, folks!” Gearbox led Roban and Tatiana into the room just opposite mission control.

There were four soldiers standing over one of the tables, looking at a map. One of them, an ageing man with a deep voice, was speaking. “… focus our efforts on M-Sector, I’m certain that—ah, Gearbox! Welcome back. And who do you have there?”

“These are the new squadmates. Sergeants Roban Queens, and Tatiana Horakova. I just saw them in action. They’re the real deal. Took Drelliad like it was made of sticks and mud, and defended by snails.”

“Reporting for duty, Sirs!”

“At ease. And welcome to Ord Matell. Congratulations on your baptism. I’m Commander Harron Tavus. Your new CO. We’re all excited to have some new blood in the unit. Let me introduce you to the rest of your new teammates. Second-in-Command, Captain Zora, is the squad’s infiltration and assassination specialist. She answers to Wraith.”

The Mirialan glowered. “Sergeants.”

“This is Fuse. Lieutenant Vanto Bazren. He’s an expert with every known type of explosive in the galaxy.”

The short Zabrak smiled nervously. “Oh, um. Hello… umm. Guys. Good to meet you.”

“This is Needles. Lieutenant Ryler Durant. He’s a medical genius, particularly good at synthesizing combat stims and adrenals.”

The scarred human with cybernetics bowed smoothly. “Perfection is my art. It will be my honor, to help you perform at your very best.”

“People. Queens was ranked top of his class in Forward Assault, Search and Destroy, and Advanced Recon. Horakova is an excellent infiltrator, sapper, and saboteur. It’s good to have you both.”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet all of you,” Roban saluted again. He noticed that Tatiana was chewing her lip nervously.

“I have your new designations and armor waiting for you. Been carrying these around all day.” The Commander picked up a pair of boxes lying at his feet and handed it to the new members. “Sergeant Horakova; from now on, you’ll be operating under the codename ‘Mamba.’ Sergeant Queens, you’re ‘Scepter.’ And I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t my idea.”

“Understood, sir. Could’ve been worse.”

“Now, the reason we’re all here. A Republic Transport carrying in its cargo, an orbital strike bomb, crashed in northern Avilatan six days ago. Recovery units sent a team, but they were too late. Separatist forces had already stolen everything and fled.”

“The ZR-57 is… well, it’s some serious hardware, you know?” Fuse said. “I mean, it can pretty much vaporize this whole island, or… boom.”

“We’re investigating several leads to the bomb’s location, but I have an assignment for each of you. Mamba, you’re going to meet up with a spy named Bellis. He reported making an important discovery, but he’s too deep to exfiltrate for a full report. Instead, you’ll rendezvous with him at a nearby village called Talloran at 1800. You have time for a quick nap before heading out.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“As for you, Scepter. I have no immediate tasks requiring your skillset, but Command wanted a few troubling signals investigated. There’s someone else I need to introduce you both to… ah, here he comes now. This is Lieutenant Aric Jorgan, an operations officer from the Republic’s Ord Mantell Infantry Command. Since we’re on individual missions to search for this bomb, Lt Jorgan is coordinating our efforts from here in the mission room.”

“Alright, rookies. I’m gonna make something completely clear. When you’re in the field, what I say goes. Period.”

“Yes, Sir.” Neither one of them made an effort to sound enthusiastic.

“Suit up, and head out. Before the end of the century, if it’s all the same to you. We don’t have time for slowpokes who drag their feet.”

But Horakova was done. “Wow, way to broadcast your micropenis energy! If I’d known we were having a fake dick measuring contest, I’d have brought my favorite strap-on.”

Jorgan glowered, and Horakova glowered back.

“Ease off,” Commander Tavus got between them. “Lieutenant, your attitude has caused us no end of problems. You don’t have to bully everyone just to prove you’re higher up the food chain. These two took down Drelliad almost single-handedly, something you’ve been struggling to do for weeks. And you, Mamba. Respect the rank, or your career trajectory will end before it’s even begun.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sirs.” Once Tavus had left, she added in an undertone, “I really am sorry. I’d rather not end up like you, after all.”

“Oh, great. We’ve got one with a mouth.”

“A micro-pp’s biggest fear.”

“Tiana…”

“Oh, alright. We’ve seen things far more intimidating than you, Lt. I’ll work with you because everyone seems to have no choice but to put up with you. But don’t, for a second, think you’re better than me.”

“Oh, so you take out one stronghold and a few beasts, and think you’re hot stuff? I’ve been at this for nearly a decade. I led a unit of snipers called the Hawkeyes for three years before accepting this post.”

“How intimidating,” Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea how morale works? Well, you’re one of the reasons why it’s so low here. I heard others talk. And when you’ve heard about a grumpy hard ass from five different mouths within three hours of arriving on a planet, you know it’s bad. I mean, we’re soldiers, we’re used to being bossed around. Which means when someone gets singled out… they’re jerks. Bullies. Assholes.”

“And you’re an emotional greenhorn. What gives you the right to talk back to a superior officer like this?”

“That’s enough,” Roban said tiredly. “Jorgan, back off before the Commander returns to find out why you’re still holding us back. Tiana, I’ve already suited up while you were arguing. We really don’t have time for tiny speed bumps here.”

“Right. Right. You wanna watch me change, or…?”

Jorgan turned on his heel and stormed out. Roban followed a second later.

*

As Tatiana was leaving the Command Center, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Captain Wraith?”

“Just ‘Wraith’ is fine. I’d like to chat before you leave.”

“Of course, Sir!”

She led Tatiana to Havoc Squad’s bunk and sat down on one of the beds. “Pick a bunk later. Sit on that one for now.”

“What’s this about?”

“You really need to ask?” The Mirialan snorted. “You should’ve realized this by now. You and I have something of an overlapping skillset.”

“Eh?”

“I’m the infiltration and assassination specialist. You’re the infiltration and sabotage specialist. It’s been a while since Havoc Squad moved away from general compositions to our current makeup, which is one specialist for each mission type. We’re not like most frontline units.”

“I—I know that, Sir. But—”

“But what?”

“No one can be everywhere at once.”

“We don’t have to. We’ve never had to. Our mission targets are always set in such a way that one specialist is enough. And now, we’ve been assigned you and your googly-eyed battering ram. The others might be okay with this, but I’m not.”

Tatiana fought her anger back. Falling for Jorgan’s provocation was one thing, but she did not want to get off on the wrong foot with the others on Havoc Squad. “Okay with what, sir?”

“You and Scepter are our replacements. Maybe not right away, maybe it’ll take an assignment or two. But we’re being phased out. And I don’t like that.”

“I—” it suddenly made sense to Tatiana. “I’m so sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll step down, if you want me to. Request a transfer.”

Wraith’s eyes didn’t soften. “What good does that make? If it isn’t you, it’s someone else.”

“But it won’t be me. I don’t want to do this to you guys. You’re heroes. The Commander is my hero.”

“And we’re about to become retired heroes.”

“But why? Why would they want to retire you? You’re all still in your prime!”

Wraith barked a harsh laugh. “You’re crazy if you really believe that. The Commander and Gearbox are in their mid-fifties, Needles is forty-eight, and I’m about to turn forty-seven. The only one of us who’s still young is twenty-five-year-old Fuse. To be honest, most soldiers our age start to move towards desk jobs, or command roles. Like Jace.”

“But is that what you want?”

Wraith snorted. “I would’ve liked the opportunity to choose. After everything I’ve given the Republic, I deserve that much. But the Senate doesn’t give us ‘heroes’ that kind of courtesy. They only look out for their own interests. And right now, they’re interested in putting us to pasture.”

“But why?”

Wraith didn’t answer that one.

“I’m sorry. I promise, this wasn’t what I intended. Working with Havoc—and especially with the Commander—it’s a lifelong dream of mine.”

“Is that right?” Wraith’s answering grin was ironic. “Well… I guess dreams have a way of coming true in the most unexpected ways, sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, sorry for the disappointment.”

*

As Roban was leaving the Fort, a pretty woman with the most woeful look in her eyes tripped into his path. “Easy there, Miss.”

“Sorry, soldier.” She looked like she’d been crying. “I… I… I…”

“You’re a refugee, aren’t you?”

“Yes, kind soldier. And I’ve lost everything. Even my final keepsake from my great-grandfather. It was a simple thing, a locket with an etching like this.” She drew something on the ground. “If… I know everyone here has lost something… but if you could find it for me… I would be so grateful!”

The pleading look in her eyes made his heart tremble. “I’m always willing to help out a pretty young woman in need.”

“Oh, thank you! I may not have much, but—”

“It’s okay. Not everything requires a reward ¹.”

“I will always remember your kindness, good Sir!”

*

Days later,
Mannet Point

Roban Queens crossed the channel under cover of darkness. His raft was pretty crude, the sort that was constructed by tying sticks together, but it did the job. He’d wished he could have a canoe, at least. Crossing back would be a pain.

He hid the raft behind some rocks and climbed to the gates of Mannet Point, a city that had been overrun by Separatists.

These guys sure did gain a lot of ground. But how? How are they so strong, that they can face even a garrison like Fort Garnik’s?

He hoped they would find the answer soon. It would be crucial to stopping these guys for good.

Roban had been worried about running into patrols, but he needn’t have worried. He reached the secret entrance he’d been told about, and entered the city through a tunnel that emerged into a Republic safehouse.

From there, he stealthily walked up to a nearby house, which Wraith was using as her base of Operations.

“Scepter,” she greeted him shortly. “I see you had no problems making the crossing.”

“I got lucky. The Separatists don’t seem concerned about infiltrations.”

“Yeah, I thought security was a little lax, too. But then, it could’ve just been me. But for even you to make the same observation…”

“I’m not good at stealth, it’s true.”

“Well, let’s see how good you are at following orders.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Wraith approached him. She patted her stomach and ordered, with a perfectly straight face, “Punch me.”

She wasn’t wearing her armor right now, just a plain, gray shirt, but Roban complied without hesitation. He took a swing at her stomach. A very light one. Barely touched her.

Wraith blinked, then laughed. “I suppose you followed the order. Just not what I intended. Well done.”

“No offense, Sir. But a punch from me has been known to send people to the infirmary. And we need you tomorrow. I can’t do this on my own.”

“Right. I hadn’t thought of that. Silly me. I’ll have to just hope you don’t get me killed tomorrow by ignoring orders.”

Roban looked at the chrono. It was still one in the morning. “Would you like to go over the mission parameters now, Sir?”

“No, I’d like to get some sleep now. You should too. Unfortunately, there’s only one bed in here.” Her voice betrayed her amusem*nt.

“I can take the couch—”

“What couch?”

Roban looked around, realizing that he was in an extremely tiny house right now. “Well… I guess I can just stay up, then—”

“No. I don’t mind sharing. Especially with you. You’re easy on the eyes, and you seem to respect my authority. Even if you just followed my orders in a creative way, you did follow without thinking.” Wraith came even closer, and touched his cheek with a cool finger. “I like men who obey me. Tell me, Sergeant… do you like having a stern, commanding woman on top of you?”

Roban realized he was shaking. “Sir—”

“Yes?” Her smile was seductive.

“I don’t know if we should—”

She laughed again. He just now realized how pretty she really was. “Look at you shiver! Come on, Sergeant, you’ve been with several women over the past few years. Including your partner. Surely, I’m not that intimidating?” She leaned up to him, lips pulled across her teeth in a somewhat troubling smile. “If you’re worried about rules, no one really cares out here… except stupid sh*tbrains like Jorgan. Sharing a bunk is really quite common out in the field. But, if you don’t want me, we’ll just have to work out a sleep schedule.” She started to pull away, but Roban caught her in his arms. Pulled her close. He was breathing very hard. “That’s the spirit,” she grinned. “Now show me what you can do. And try not to scream too loud.”

The kiss she gave Roban was almost violent.

*

Weeks later,
Crater Base

“And… done.” Roban sat back on his haunches.

Tatiana tried the comms. “Mamba to nest. Can you read us?”

“That’s affirmative, Sergeant. Looks like the jammer is down. Nice job. You did us proud with that assault.” Their performance in this mission had really sparked a change in the Lieutenant’s demeanor. He no longer tried to pull rank with Tatiana or Roban. As well he should: they’d destroyed several Separatist bases almost single-handedly. The rebels were almost broken now, missing many top leaders and their most experienced grunts. And here in the Crater Base, they’d even managed to kill several dozen leaders from Separatist cells on other worlds. The Republic would suddenly wake up the next day, to find that several major threats to their stability had been eliminated.

“Now that that’s dealt with, we have another problem,” Tatiana “There were Imperial soldiers guarding the bomb!”

“What did you say?”

“It’s true!” Roban quickly scanned the corpses in front of him and sent the data over to base.

“This does not bode well. I assume you know what I’m thinking?”

“They’re in cahoots with the Separatists,” Tatiana said.

“They’re here for the ZR,” Roban sighed. Tiana looked at him in sudden realization.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. We need to know how deep this connection goes. Fight your way deeper into the base, see what you can dig up. Finding your squad is now priority one. They might have figured out what’s going on. If possible, you should also retrieve the ZR-57. It costs around 40 million credits, so Command might probably like it back. Even in its current state.”

“Its current state? Then—”

“That’s right. We’ve received the confirmation that our deactivation code worked. The ZR-57 has been neutralized.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yeah. But we need to keep it out of Imperial hands, if at all possible. Even a neutralized bomb like that one might provide them with some useful information.”

“Copy that, Sir.”

“I hope they’re alive,” Tatiana said tearfully. “They can’t be dead! Not now!”

“Tiana… I’m sorry, but this isn’t the time.”

“You don’t understand, Ban. Working with Tavus has been my dream since before I could crawl. It can’t end like this! It can’t!”

Roban had never seen Tiana quite like this before. She was quite good at compartmentalization. “Then maybe you can help me understand?”

She wiped her eyes. “Not now. It’s complicated.”

“Alright. But if you want me to drop it—”

“I know. No more waterworks for now.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound dismissive, or cold.”

“Don’t be. I get it. Come to think of it, you must be pretty worried too, right? You’ve gotten quite close to Captain Wraith recently.”

“I—”

“It’s alright, Ban. Things didn’t quite work out between us, but I do want you to be happy. I hope we find her alive.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on. We’ve got some heroes to save.”

*

The Imps were warned of Roban’s approach. They tried to put up a defense, but his assault cannon drilled holes into their shoddy barricades. Tatiana leapt in and out of stealth, knifing a dozen or more bastards before they even knew she was back there.

She reengaged the cloaking mechanism right as someone started to turn, only to reappear on their other side with a stiletto to their jugular.

Within minutes, the meager force of Imperial defenders was dead.

Roban tossed smoke grenades into the next room the second the doors parted, then rolled in. With his thermal goggles, he was able to make out about a dozen figures. Four were kneeling, with their hands behind their heads. The other eight were standing with guns to their hostages’ heads. Roban fired at all eight, armed figures, his blaster pistol set to stun just in case.

They fell with surprised grunts. The smoke started to clear quicker than Roban had anticipated. Now he could see why; this was a hanger, and the bay doors were ajar. Beyond the prisoners was a large shuttle of Imperial make. Its cargo bay doors were open, and Roban could see a large missile inside.

But right now, his attention went back to the hostages.

“Commander Tavus, Sir!” Roban rose up and approached them. But he stopped, and raised his weapon. Something wasn’t right here.

He heard something shift to his left. He ducked just in time to avoid being shot. A cloaking field dissipated, and Wraith emerged from the shadows. She fired several more shots, most of which he avoided. But he didn’t avoid the electro-net. “Got you,” Wraith laughed. “All tied and shaking. Just the way I like you.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tatiana cried, shock leading her to give away her position. “Have you lost it? Or have you betrayed your squad, for what? sh*ts and giggles?”

“Actually, she’s not betrayed anyone,” Tavus stood, and with a blindingly fast display of agility, he tackled Tatiana before she knew what was happening. He drew his blaster and pressed it to her forehead. “I thought my orders were clear. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Don’t move…” Wraith grinned. “I’m itching for an excuse…”

“No, Wraith. Neither of them are responsible for what happened to us. And they’re good soldiers to boot. Any other time, I’d have welcomed them into our ranks.”

“Sir?” Tatiana eyes were wide in disbelief. “You can’t be… you can’t be…”

“Defecting? I’m afraid we are. I wished it hadn’t come to this. I harbor no ill-will towards either of you. You’re everything a warrior should be. I’m afraid the Republic no longer values her warriors—even the very best among them.”

“What in blazes are you saying?” Roban asked. “The Republic is far from perfect, and the Senate is full of vultures. I get that. But do you really think the Empire is better than them? The Sith!?”

“Whatever else they may be, the Empire respects warriors. The Republic’s top officials, on the other hand, cast us aside. The truth is, that no matter what they may say, the Senate does not believe it can win another war against the Empire. That makes you and I a threat! Every Havoc Squad victory fires up people’s imaginations, and fills them with pride! Which means the bureaucrats can’t afford to let us keep succeeding.”

Roban couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What in the f*ck kind of bullcrap is that? I’ve heard crackheads spout conspiracy theories more convincing than that! For starters, how important do you think you are? Aside from a fraction of our military, no one follows the exploits of a single squad! When was the last time you even heard a news channel mention the name?”

“I won’t try to convince you. Honestly, it’s best you’re about to die now, with your honor intact. But you weren’t there on Ando Prime, where they simply left us to die. If you’d been there, you’d be joining us.”

“We’d never become traitors!” Roban cried out in outraged fury.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

“And now you’re dead!” Roban had learned from his encounter with the blixii. He vocalized a command, and his gauntlets fired smoke darts into the space between them. His shield activated, protecting him from Wraith and Gearbox’s weapons.

Roban ran at Tavus and knocked him off Tiana. He threw a very heavy punch at the man’s face, almost breaking his helmet and stunning him. He threw him over his shoulder and twisted him around until he was in front of him.

Tatiana rolled in behind him, taking advantage of his shields.

“Put down your weapons!” Roban ordered. “Or Tavus here dies.”

The Commander chuckled. “If I die, you die too.”

“You think there’s any other way Mamba and I survive a head-on brawl with all five of you?”

“Good point. But my comrades are willing to—”

“If they were, I’d be dead.”

It was true. Whatever their current states of mind, none of the traitors were willing to let Tavus die. Wraith in particular, glared daggers at him.

“Throw away your weapons,” Roban ordered. “Mamba, stun them—”

But before he could finish, he felt a blow to his lower back. Surprised, he released Tavus. “Tiana?”

It was her. She slammed the butt of her blaster into his face, and kicked him into a stack of crates.

“I’m sorry, Ban. I can’t let you hurt Tavus!”

“Why?” Tavus was calm. Curious, but calm.

“Sir… do you remember meeting a woman about twenty-three years ago, named Katerina Horakova? My mother?”

A few moments ticked by before comprehension dawned on everyone.

“No…” the word was uttered by both Roban and Tavus.

“Yes, Sir. My mother said that you were the only man she’d ever been with. You’re the reason why why I joined the Republic Armed Forces; why I worked my ass off to become good enough to work with Havoc. To meet you. You were my hero since I was old enough to walk. And now that I have you… I can’t let you die. And if the Republic is no longer good enough…” she shivered. “Then I’ll defect right with you.”

“Tiana…”

“I’m sorry, Ban.”

The silence lasted another minute before Wraith started laughing. It was an incredulous, cruel sound, and it set Roban’s skin crawling. “Load up, all of you,” Wraith ordered the others. “Get them onboard too,” she nodded at all the stunned Imperials. “And prepare for takeoff. I’ll deal with little ol Ban.” She turned a fiendish smile to Roban. “And you… you really have no luck with women at all, do you? Just when it looked like you were about to beat us—which really shocked me, by the way!—you get betrayed by your own partner. How does it feel?”

“Like Ando Prime, I suppose. You’ve become what you hated. Congrats.”

She flinched. Everyone looked at him with some degree of anger and hate. “Very clever. But you wanna know something sad? There’s this one thing you’re quite wrong about. You’ve already betrayed the Republic.”

Roban snorted.

Wraith smiled too. She turned to the shuttle. “Alma, come out, would you?”

Roban didn’t recognize the name until he saw the woman who’d stepped out of the shuttle. “YOU!”

“Her,” Wraith nodded. “Cipher Twelve. A Republic spy managed to steal the launch codes for the ZR and stashed it inside the necklace before he died. And you helped her track it down. You were so eager to help a pretty face. At no charge, too! Just like you were so eager to become putty in my hands. You’re a sharp man, usually, but your file made it pretty clear I’d be able to blind you to what was happening if I wrapped you around this.” She waggled a pinkie finger in front of his face.

The woman called Alma laughed. “Don’t be so quick to trust a pretty face.”

“Oh, and, uh… speaking about the ZR-57, thanks for finding it for us,” Fuse said. “We were starting to think that the Separatists might, you know, waste our big present for the Empire.”

“But thanks to you, we can now present our new leaders with this magnificent tool of destruction.” Needles had always seemed like a sinister man to Roban, one who delighted in contemplating the sufferings of others, but now…

Tatiana looked guilty at Needle’s words. Roban laughed at her. “Should I tell them, or will you?”

“You don’t have to say anything ever again. Goodbye.” Wraith fired once, then turned and left.

But no one had noticed that Roban wasn’t hit. His shield had been up, and it had absorbed one last impact for him.

If only it could’ve protected his crumbling heart as easily.

He got back painfully to his feet, and looked around the hangar until he found a speeder. He needed to get back to base, pronto.

I’m gonna hunt you all down. Before you die, you’re gonna feel the same chill I did when those blixii were about to kill me.

*

Chapter 29: Taking down a Wraith

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5 ATC, Shortly after Taris
Deep Space Station ‘Port Raga’

“Hey there, Scepter!”

“Jaxo?” Roban Queens was pleasantly surprised to meet the human woman again. She was wearing an unmarked mercenary uniform today, one which hugged her slim form.

“I was hoping Garza would send you to help me again. I was hoping to get to know you a somewhere a bit cozier than a hostage situation.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Roban grinned. “Sometimes, the Galaxy can’t stop sparks from flying no matter how hard it tries.”

“Mhhh…” she chuckled, combing her hair behind her ears with her short fingers.

“Focus, please?” Jorgan grumbled. “We have to get to the Senator before Wraith does… whatever. Or worse, gets away.”

“How? I’ve got men covering all the hangars and ships.”

“The ones that you know of. Never underestimate the enemy.”

“Sir, yessir!” Jaxo gave a very teasing salute. “Let’s start with accommodations. Port Raga is officially neutral and privately-owned. But Wraith and her pals have taken over, behind the scenes. My boys and I managed to tweak the sensors, and make your landing inconspicuous. But don’t expect it to last.”

“How many are we up against?”

“We couldn’t get a solid count without giving ourselves away. Somewhere between ‘a lot’ and ‘a whole lot,’ mostly Imperial.”

“And the Senator?”

“Locked up at the other end of the station. Heavy security, and a bunch of explosives. Not enough to trash the station, but plenty to ruin your day. And the Senator’s haircut. Garza’s orders were pretty clear on one point: we’re not to interfere. You get free rein in there, unless things start to go badly.”

“Copy that. Prepare to be swept off your feet.”

“Oooo, how exciting! I’ll get the candles and hot tub ready. Yeah, there’s a hot tub on this station.” She surreptitiously rubbed his bottom as she passed by.

He sighed. “Do that when I’m not wearing armor, maybe we can both enjoy it.”

She giggled.

*

Senator Krasul was sitting impatiently on a seat in the middle of the room that Jaxo had pointed out. He looked like he was trying to take the king of all dumps. He seemed more frustrated than afraid of the bombs he was sitting on top of.

“I gotta give you credit where it’s due, Senator. You’re no coward.”

The Cathar blinked. “I—you? I remember you! Scepter, right? The new leader of Havoc Squad!”

“That’s affirmative, Sir. We’re here to rescue you, and take in your abductor. In that order, in case you were wondering.”

“I was, actually. Thank you. Still, I shouldn’t be surprised to see you in here. Garza is trying to keep this in her twisted little family. Now, don’t just stand there, defuse this bomb! You know how, don’t you?”

“Careful, Senator. I want eyes on Wraith before I try that. She’s crafty.”

“I know that all too well. So what are you going to do?”

“Jorgan, you’ve been trained in bomb disposal too, right?”

“I can take care of it, no problem. You’re going after Wraith?”

“Yeah, once I know where she is.”

“She went out the door behind me. Said she’d wait while I pondered my decision.”

“What decision?”

“She wanted me to read out a statement claiming that the Senate abandoned Havoc Squad on Ando Prime. Ridiculous! They abandoned us! They attacked Ando Prime and incited a massive armed response from the Empire! Do you realize what would happen if the situation were to go public? The Senate would be a firestorm, all of our judgements called into question—”

“Believe it or not, people question your judgements all the time.”

“Maybe. But this one will allow the traitors to deliver a follow-up speech, enticing more soldiers to abandon the Republic. And perhaps some Senators, too.”

“Alright. Jorgan, I’m gonna leave my comm channel open for a bit. The signal is the sound of Wraith screaming.”

“So, wait for the first round of sweet music to begin. Got it.”

*

Wraith exited the fresher, still in high spirits. Even if that sleazebiscuit Krasul was unwilling to go along with her demands, he was going to be killed. And that hag Garza would have to answer some uncomfortable questions about his death. That was still a win in her book.

She hummed a rare tune to herself as she walked briskly to the pantry, intent on fixing a sinfully overloaded sandwich for herself. As she passed a cupboard, a hand swung out from behind it, and decked her in the gut. She was launched back in the direction she’d come from, slammed against the door. She choked out a screech as the handle dug into the small of her back. She slid down, and the remote to the detonator fell out of her trembling fingers.

“Who—?" she wheezed. A familiar Zabrak knelt down in front of her.

“Hello, Wraith. Meet the ghost. Hope you’re scared. Oh, and by the way. I carried out your first ever order. Do you like that?”

She gasped. She’d been hit so bad that she could feel her muscles seizing up. Had her gut been damaged? Damn, this guy really did pack a wallop!

Scepter grabbed her hair and pulled her up. He threw a mother of an uppercut punch this time, and she felt her head jerk back so strongly that she heard a worrying crack in her neck. She lost all sensation south of her collarbone as she slid back onto the floor.

“You gave me a very valuable lesson when we last met,” Scepter smiled. “May I have the pleasure of returning one? Next time you shoot a man, make sure his shield isn’t up.”

“Stupid… rotten luck…”

“I was just better prepared than you were. Oh. I need to pass on condolence message to Tavus, assuming he still cares. Horakova is dead. Got summarily executed by a Coruscant Guard, of all things. A dishonorable death for a treacherous rat. And speaking of which…” He grabbed her face and squeezed. Oh, if only she could bite him! “Did you know about Angral’s mission? Were you willingly going to allow trillions of Coruscant’s civilians to burn?”

“They are nothing!” Wraith wheezed. “They’re complicit with our betrayal!”

“They don’t know about it! They don’t know anything at all! How many units do you think got the short end of the stick before you, huh? Did that make you complicit in their treatment?”

“f*ck you…”

“Awww… do you really want me to? Does lil ole Waithe wanna f*ck one last time for ole time’s sake?”

She tried to spit in his face, but she didn’t have the strength to do so yet.

“As if I would, traitor… I’m taking you back. And you’re gonna spend the rest of your wretched life in a hole three cubic meters big. If you have anything to say about Tavus, or Angral… now’s the time.”

She almost snorted. “Know something about Angral? Even most Imperials don’t know what that freak is up to. Why would I?”

“You admit he’s a freak.”

“A freak who’s on our side.”

“You really believe that? Have you forgotten how evil the Sith are? They kill their own soldiers as often as they do us.”

“Only the weak ones. We are strong. You may have blindsided me, but the others are gonna get you.”

“Just so you know, ‘the others’ is just Gearbox, Fuse, and Tavus. Needles has been taken into custody, and Jek Kardan has surrendered to us.”

That shocked Wraith. “Even Jek…?”

“Even Jek. Your numbers are being thinned even as we speak. Isn’t that a real laugh?”

“I’m gonna kill you…”

“No you won’t. You’re too weak. And now that I know your true colors, you’re never gonna be able to touch me. Good night, Wraith.” Scepter took out his sidearm and set it for stun. He shot her right in the eye.

*

Seargent Aric Jorgan grunted sourly when the Lt returned with Wraith. He wasn’t attached to her anymore, he knew that for certain, so he wouldn’t have retrieved a corpse. That meant—

“So you took her alive, then.”

“What?” the Senator looked up angrily. “Oh, wait, you brought her here so you could give me the satisfaction, right? It would make a nice peace offering.”

“Sadly, no. She has intel that we need. But at least she won’t move ever again. I broke her spine.”

“For a woman like Wraith, that’s a fate worse than death.”

“It’ll still seem like a walk in the park compared to Garza’s interrogation.”

“You really do hate her, eh? Good. So you understand how I feel about Tavus. When we finally catch up with him—”

“You get ten free, nonlethal shots. That’s eight more than I took.”

“Appreciate it.”

“C’mon now. Jaxo is waiting for us.”

“Hold your horses, Lieutenant. Don’t forget, we’re in enemy territory. We’ll need to blast our way out.”

“I don’t suppose you have any spare weapons on you, do you? I’m a Senator now, but I used to be a merc in my younger days. And I really need to blow off some steam.”

“You can take my sidearm, Sir. And my backup shield.”

“Thank you. I’ll see to it you’re reimbursed later.”

“Alright then. Let’s blast our way out of here, shall we?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

*

Chapter 30: Blood for Blood

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

6 ATC,
In Hyperspace, Aboard an unnamed Tug-Crawlers

Mako could never get used to how quietly Mark sat in transit. Not like he was meditating. That would’ve been fine. No, it was like he was a kettle that someone had sealed a lid over, building up steam in anticipation for an inevitable explosion.

He rarely ever used any of the facilities. Not the fresher, not the galley, not the beds. He just stared out of the window, into the Hyperspace tunnel. If only she could make herself believe he was taken in by the beauty.

“Surprise!” their newest teammate barged into the co*ckpit. “I made us some thukpa. Who wants a bowl?”

“I’ll have one. Thanks, Gault.”

“No problemo, my young friend. And what about you, Mark?”

The Palliduvan didn’t answer. Didn’t give any indication that he’d heard Gault. The Devaronian cleared his throat. Mako caught his eye and shook her head slightly. He nodded, and went back to the galley to bring out the grub.

“I didn’t make much,” he said. “Best not to fight on a full stomach. But perhaps it’s best not to fight on empty either. Especially a fight like this one. A Jedi.”

Since it was about the job, Mark spoke up. “We’ve taken down Sith before.”

Mako shook her head again. “If you’re counting the ones at Grathan’s estate, they were the dregs of the hierarchy. Kellian Jarro is a warrior whom even Mandalorians are afraid of.”

Mark grunted and descended back into his silence.

“You know, one thing gets me curious,” Gault ventured. “I’m more or less caught up on what’s keeping you two working together right now. But how did you get started together? Did Braden put you two in the same room and tell you to work together?”

Mark snorted. “Something like that.”

“It was always Braden’s dream to be on a team that won a Great Hunt. And he found that Mark wasn’t too bad a guy to work with.”

“That’s hardly a stellar review. Which brings me to my next observation. I don’t see anything approaching trust between you two.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mako informed Gault. “I trust Mark with my life. Because I’m on his team. He’s a professional, after all.”

“And I trust Mako. She’s not either one of us.”

“Point taken. But what is that, in the end. Really? Neither of you are cut from the same cloth. Under ordinary circ*mstances, you wouldn’t even be in the same room! So, once the Hunt is over, what’s to stop you from going your own separate ways?”

“Nothing,” Mark answered. “If Mako ever wants out—or you do—I’ll drop you off at any port of your choice. I’ll hand over all of your effects and money, and a share of the common inventory. No hard feelings.”

“That said, would you be willing to leave his side?” Mako asked. “When all’s said and done, he takes care of his team. We had this ex-Sith with us for a little while. Tarro’s goons tried to kill him several times, but Mark protected him until Tarro ran out of followers willing to take us on. He died of an undiagnosed disease on Nar Shaddaa.”

“It won’t always be like that, you know. Someday, that very same notoriety is what’s gonna make hanging around him so dangerous. Still, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You weren’t wrong about how much safer it is for me, over here.”

“I—”

“I’ll tell you this much,” Mark turned to look at both his teammates. “And especially you, Mako. The Republic will want to take down whoever it is that kills this Jedi. It’ll be nice, if we avoid getting ID’ed. But you better than anyone know how slim those chances are. The odds aren’t bad that they identify us, and then put a bounty on us. Oh, and by the way; it’s for this reason why you can’t just go out there and look up Captain McIntyre. She’s a Jedi partner now, it would be wrong of you to abuse her trust.”

Mako felt her heart stop. “Oh.”

“In addition, you will always be known as a Champion’s teammate after today. Certain sections of the Underworld will know you when you step out into their yards. Even if it’s not me, you will need someone watching your back.”

“Damn. You’re right.”

“Why does he care about this Captain McIntyre?” Gault whispered once he’d turned.

“She was a client,” Mako whispered back. “She was very professional, and she treated us with respect. She didn’t try to cheat us, and insisted on sharing a Republic Bounty with us.”

“Hmmm. I think I’m really starting to see how his mind works. Or his code of conduct. All things considered, you’re someone I could work with!” He slurped a spoonful. “How’s the thukpa?”

“I like it. You’re a good cook. Hey, Mark, when was the last time you ate? I recall going hungry is especially bad for you.”

“An hour ago. And I appreciate your concern.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes. Finish up quickly. Don’t fill your stomachs.”

*

The Scree emerged from Hyperspace about a kilometer away from their objective, a Republic Thranta-class cruiser called the Aurora.

They were hailed almost immediately. “Attention, unidentified vessel. This is the Republic cruiser Aurora. You are in a restricted zone. Prepare to be brought aboard for a full inspection. If you offer any resistance, we will open fire.”

Mako started to panic at once. “Oh no! They have us caught in a tractor beam! What do we do?!”

“Stay calm. This is as good a way as any to board that ship.”

Mako wanted to give him a piece of her mind for going optimist now of all times, but decided against it. “So what are we gonna do? Just start blasting everything once we get inside?”

“Pretty much. Set the engines and reactors to blow. Prepare for all missiles to launch indiscriminately.”

“What?! That’s insane!”

“It’s messy, and it’ll kill a lot of people.”

“Yeah! Including us!”

“No it won’t. Trust me.”

*

Aboard the Aurora

Captain Ofaree waited impatiently for the captured ship to dock. Security droids stood ready to deploy decloaking probes to flush out any enemy that attempted to use Stealth field generators.

Jedi Master Kellian Jarro stood beside him and the rest of the troops, much more patient.

“We can handle this, Sir. You can rest easy. You’re in good hands.”

“Of that, I’m certain, Captain. But Blood managed to take out one of your security officers before he was captured, and I suspect this one is far more dangerous than him. I’d rather be on hand to keep the death count at zero.”

“I—I appreciate it, Sir.” He understood the Master’s sentiment. Nearly ninety percent of the security personnel had gathered to take the passengers into custody. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

“Why isn’t the landing ramp coming down?” His Padawan asked nervously after a few minutes. “Are they planning to pretend that no one’s inside?”

“Prepare to cut the doors open,” Captain Ofaree ordered. Crewmen with plasma cutters hastened to the ship’s doors and began cutting their way in. It took them about five minutes, after which a squad of troopers followed both Jedi into the ship.

Master Jarro emerged a moment later, appearing confused. “There was no one in there,” he said. “It’s like it was abandoned.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Are you sure anyone acknowledged your transmission earlier?”

“Well… no! There was no response, but no resistance either. I assumed that to mean they were complying.”

“Something odd is going on here. Bring a scanning crew aboard. Maybe there are some hidden compartments aboard that the crew chose to hide in.”

“Yes… yes Sir. Of course—”

The Jedi Master suddenly turned around, as if something had triggered the famed Jedi instinct. Less than a moment later, the ship exploded.

*

Gault had to hand it to Mark: this was quite a plan he’d concocted inside that shady little skull of his.

They’d entered one of the secret compartments below the lower deck. At first, Gault thought they were hiding, but once they landed, Mark revealed a secret weapon; a Lightsaber with a very dull blade. He cut a hole under the ship, one big enough for them to slip through. Then, he ordered Mako to activate her Stealth field generator in area mode, which allowed all three of them to emerge from the ship virtually undetected. It was genius! The probes that the Security Droids were using did not have the range to decloak them from this far off, which meant that they escaped undetected.

They casually walked up to a secure compartment that Mako sliced in two minutes, then slipped inside and activated ray shields.

Then at last, Fodorn hit the switch, causing the ship to go up like a Hutt’s birthday celebration finale.

Mako looked at the reports flying by on her screen. “Looks like the ship held together. But just barely. The safety seals kicked in.”

“That’s our cue to leave. Helmets on, just in case.”

Gault complied, and followed Mark out of the door once it opened. It was chaos out there. Few had survived the ship’s explosion. He felt a pang of loss for the ugly ship, but an even greater, ironic regret that its owner had so easily discarded of it. “I assume we’re gonna take a lifepod once we’re done?”

“No. We’ll take Tarro Blood’s ship.”

“Huh? Who said anything about Tarro Blood?”

“Think about it,” Mako said. “Why was this ship on high alert? Why did they take us prisoner without so much as asking for our clearance codes first? Tarro Piss was here.”

“Shame I didn’t get to kill him myself.”

“Actually, I think he’s still alive. I saw a report about a prisoner who’d recently gotten detained.”

“Ah, splendid. I get to punch his face on the way out. Let’s look for the Jedi. We need confirmation of his death.”

“Are you sure he was down here?”

“No. Only one way to find out.”

They heard a few pained groans as they neared what was left of their ship. The sound of a girl sobbing in pain and fear.

“Good afternoon. You’re Jedi Kellian Jarro, I presume?”

The male human looked up at them. There was only resignation and pain in his eyes. “So… you’re the one. Blood’s rival.”

“No. His executioner. You shouldna got in my way. I have nothing against the Jedi Order.”

The Master laughed. “Am I to take it that you’d have tried to resolve this peacefully? Don’t make me laugh! The SIS sent me what little they had on you! You’re as violent and callous as they come! You blew up your own ship just to kill me! If you wanted peace, you’d have tried to convince me that all you were after was Blood! Tarro Blood, I mean…”

Gault had never heard Mark laugh before. It was a chilling sound. “I had no idea Jedi were comedians. But no, it wasn’t you whose clutches I was trying to avoid getting into. It was your soldiers. You see, I’m an escaped lab rat. Your Republic military conducted the most painful experiments on me. I was just a refugee once. All this propensity for violence? It was what the Republic gave me.”

Jarro grimaced. “I—I Sense you’re telling the truth.”

“Good. That makes this easy. Sorry about this, Jedi. Like I said, I’ve no beef with the Order. Goodbye—”

“Wait. Spare my Padawan. My Apprentice. She’s still an innocent—”

“I’ll consider it.” Mark shot him at point-blank. Then, he looked over at the aforementioned Apprentice. She was sobbing, shaking her head weakly. The explosion had done a real number on her. Without another thought, Mark shot her too; right in the head.

Mako screamed. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

“What I had to.”

“HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?! SHE WAS UNARMED—”

“Kid, I suggest you wait until we’re home free. Scan Jarro’s corpse. After that, we need to blow this hole.”

But Mako refused to budge, despite Gault trying to hurry her along. “Listen, Kid,” the Devaronian whispered. “I don’t like this either, but we’re in hostile territory, and we’re not all out of hostiles.”

Mako glared, but nodded. Gault held the rear as Mark led them out the hangar.

Security personnel outside were in a different kind of crisis mode. They seemed to be working to clean up after an explosion, having come to the conclusion that there were no intruders. Left alive, at least.

Mark’s trick had paid off beautifully. The Palliduvan shot down soldiers by the dozen, killing most of who remained before the survivors finally managed to put up a resistance. By which time, it was far too late.

The unarmed servicemen tried to surrender, but the brutal cyborg showed them no mercy. Gault distinctly noticed Mako getting more and more angry with each kill. Then the moment came at last.

“We’re here.”

“Alright. I’ll set the ship to self-destruct in… five minutes,” Mako said, glancing at her chrono. “That should give us enough time to get to Tarro’s ship and get out. And yeah, I took care to note where it is. Five is plenty.”

“Make it fifteen.”

“Why? Don’t trust my estimate?”

“No. I want to take an extra decoration home with me.”

“What decoration is that?”

“Tarro’s head.”

*

Tarro Blood didn’t know what was going on. There had been a huge quake around thirty minutes ago, and most guards had run out of the brig at once, leaving just two to watch over him.

Tarro was trying to think up a new insult to rile up his captors, perhaps trick them into opening his cage, but before he’d settled on anything, the doors opened and the guards were shot dead.

“What?”

“Hello, Piss. I heard you botched your hunt big time. You only took down a single trooper before you were captured.”

“YOU!”

It was Braden’s brats. His competition. The Palliduvan entered first, the girl second. The man’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but the girl’s face might have been dripping with liquid rage. “I guess there was a reason why you always got others to do the hard work.”

“You stinking piece of crap!”

“Makes you wonder how he got this far.”

“No, it doesn’t. He cheated. Every step of the way.”

“Shut up! You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. We’re not here for your life story. We’re busting you out.”

“You’re…” Tarro blinked. “Wait. Wha—"

“Get out.” The alien picked up Tarro’s Beskad and tossed it to him. “Mako. Record this, would you?”

“With pleasure.”

Tarro laughed loudly. “You think you can take me? You’re nothing but third-rate scum—”

“We’re on a clock here, Pisspot. Jarro’s dead, and the ship’s about to blow. So hurry it up.”

Tarro needed no more words. He picked up the sword and charged at the alien. It stopped his blade with its own vibrosword, turning aside each of his strikes like he was fighting a poorly-programmed droid. Tarro felt his confidence slip.

“Is that all?” The alien kicked him in the chin. Stunned, Blood dropped the Beskad and fell. The alien stowed away his own vibrosword and drew the axe instead. With his first swing, he took off Tarro’s legs. With his second, he cleaved an arm. Tarro began screaming in pain and horror as the alien grabbed him to stop the thrashing, and took off his final limb. He then cauterized his wounds roughly with a plasma torch. “There. Now, let’s get outta here. I’m holding onto this clown’s gear for now, but we can divide it amongst ourselves later.”

Tarro was dragged out by the collar, leaving a long trail of dried blood in the ground. His screams faded into sobs, then tears. When he finally found his tongue, he cried “You can’t do this to me! I’m Tarro Blood! I’m the future of the Mandalorians! I’m supposed to be the Champion of the Great Hunt!”

“You’re nothing. Never were, never will be.”

The girl snorted. “Tarro Piss. Tarro Piss. Tarro Piss. Tarro Piss.”

The mockery broke through Tarro’s despair like nothing else could. “Stop that!”

She grinned so wide it looked like she was trying to split her face. “Make me. Tarro Piss. Tarro Piss. Tarro Piss…”

Tarro Blood screamed, the most impotent man the sector would ever see.

*

Chapter 31: Triumphant Return

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

7 ATC
Dromund Kaas

Darth Marr watched as his petitioner left his office. “Is that all then?”

“Yes, Dark Lord,” his Aide replied.

“Very well then. I will be in my chambers for the rest of the day.”

When he entered his private residence, Darth Marr saw a woman kneeling before the door. She had a wide smile on her mouth, and her foxy eyes were all but closed. “Ah, Cipher Nine. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Dark Lord.”

“I trust your time abroad was fruitful?”

“I’m afraid, only the Emperor can determine that, Dark Lord. I was satisfied, however.”

“Hmmm. It’s a shame I wasn’t able to read your reports. Not even the ones you requested the Emperor to share with us.”

“I’m sorry, Dark Lord.”

“Don’t be. The Emperor has his reasons, as ever. And you will have your reward. A substantial amount of credits will be deposited into your account; enough to put you amongst the wealthiest in our Empire. You have also been granted these; a necklace, a pair of bracelets, a brooch, a ring, and a sword taken from the fallen Ebon Prince, Voivode Balaur.” Marr pulled out the package and, after confirming its contents, gave it to the surprised spy. “A true token of the Emperor’s gratitude.”

“I—thank you, Darth Marr. And please, tell the Emperor how deeply grateful I am for the opportunity to have served him directly, and for the rich rewards he saw fit to bestow upon me.”

“Of course. The Lord Wrath conveyed how happy his Master was with your efforts. You may go. Mortis awaits, but you may have a few days to yourself ere you contact him.”

The woman disappeared into the shadows no sooner than the words had left his lips. Marr felt dissatisfied. He wished he could have protected her from what was she was in store for. Unlike most of his colleagues, he valued people who could bring in results regardless of their backgrounds or Sensitivity. If it had been up to him alone, Cipher Nine would face no consequences for defeating Darth Jadus.

Alas, he couldn’t defy the majority vote of the Dark Council. He had done all he could for her, even going so far as to broach the issue with the Emperor himself—as a possible reward for her service to him—only to be firmly reminded that such a thing was well beneath his notice.

But instinct told him to trust in Intelligence’s finest. She was strong enough for what lay ahead. Perhaps it would be an obstacle she would overcome, someday. If only that didn’t bring the risk of attracting her dissatisfaction at such treatment. If she defected, the Empire would rue the day.

*

The woman formerly known as Watcher Two was pleasantly surprised to see who’d come calling at this hour. “Cipher Nine! Welcome in! And welcome back to Dromund Kaas!”

“Good to see you too, Watcher Two!” The woman insisted on giving her a hug. “Of course… it’s ‘Keeper’ now, isn’t it? Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. It was my work with you that qualified me for this role. I’d have given it to you, but—”

“Nonsense! I’m a field agent. I can’t play this role!”

“Right. You’ve caught me a little unprepared, I’m afraid. Sorry about the mess.”

“I’m always a little surprised your house would be so… disorderly!” Nine pushed a few datacards out of the way and sat down. “I understand that you’re too busy to tidy up personally, but surely you could get yourself a droid or servant to do it for you?”

“A waste of credits. It’s better for me, this way. I know where things are, and why they were there. I can wake up every morning and pick up exactly where I left off the previous night.”

“Whatever works for you. I wasn’t criticizing. Heavens know… I’m guilty of a few idiosyncrasies myself. More than a few.” She pushed a large bag in her direction. “I brought you back a souvenir.”

“Ah, splendid!” Keeper opened it at once. “Oh! You got me a droid!” She looked at her friend. “And after making me talk about it too? You’re so evil!”

“I know. And by the way, I didn’t buy this. I stole it from House Organa. Removed the trackers, wiped its memory, and reprogrammed it.”

Keeper laughed in amusem*nt and delight. “Trying to honor my preference?”

“Only in situations like this. No sense in wasting your great sacrifice!”

Keeper laughed again. “You’re a real treasure!”

“Mercy is civilization’s greatest treasure, it’s true.”

“I see someone’s still as witty as ever!”

“I need to practice. I’ve been… so isolated this past year.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me about your assignment?”

“Not allowed, sorry.”

“Right. Is there anything you are allowed to tell me?”

Keeper’s friend—her only friend—looked like she longed for nothing more than to tell her several truly poignant anecdotes, but couldn’t.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it isn’t,’ Nine moaned. “I have a dozen things I want to talk to someone about… but I can’t. All this excited energy, and I have to bottle it up! It’s maddening!”

Keeper laughed. “Well, allow me to help you out. I’ve found myself a distraction.”

“Oh?”

“It’s true! A club close to the Nexus cantina. It has a lot of activities, including a karaoke night. I need to disguise myself before heading there, of course, but it’s so worth it!” She giggled. “You always did say, I had a good voice for singing!”

“And you do!” Nine said delightedly. “Is it alright if I join you, next time? We can have a girls’ night out!”

“Of course! Thank you, Nine. Like you, I have so few friends to share my personal time with.”

“Me too!” Nine hugged her again. “Thank you too, Keeper. You’re a better friend than a girl like me deserves.”

That should be my line, you grinning she-devil! “No problem.”

“Come on. Let’s set up your new droid, then take you shopping. I’ve been given a considerable reward for my mission, and I think we both need some new clothes! Come on, now!”

Keeper allowed herself to be drawn in by the Cipher’s enthusiasm. It’s good to have you back, my friend. Ha! My friend!

*

As Cipher Nine was returning home from her playdate, she couldn’t help but miss Vajra. She’d over a year in close proximity to him, and even some months corresponding. She dearly missed the little game they’d had going; the small treats he left her, and the letters they exchanged. But now it was over.

Maybe I can secure another extended observation mission.

When she returned to her spartan accommodations, it was just past 2100. A little early to go to bed, but she had a task that couldn’t wait any longer.

She looked around the small room, little bigger than a closet. She kept little here—this room was just for staying the night. Luckily, it was small enough to hunt down all bugs and cameras in seconds.

The first thing she did was to set up a private super-secure locker in the Kass City Bank to store the tokens she’d received. She’d have to think up a better place to store them, but for now, this would suffice. She’d be able to store them the next day.

Let’s see exactly how big the reward is, shall we? Wow. Four and a half billion credits. Tax-free, no less. I can retire right now, if I wanted. Buy me a small planet to spend my life on. But I can’t do that. Not until I’ve found Jadus.

She was beginning to realize that her resolve to put her past behind was still not strong enough, for she still harbored dreams of reclaiming her old name someday. Like she’d told Avernale, like she’d told Vajra… there would always be a need for Mercy Tanniels.

I need to hide away all this wealth. Most of it, at least. It’ll be a bother if I ever need to access it all at once, but what choice do I have? It’s not like I can spend it without getting noticed. Perhaps… perhaps I can put some of it in my old name. Even if someone finds out she’s still alive, they’d know she’d be good for a couple of million credits. Say… fifty? Right. And I can invest another two hundred or so in the family business. Just a letter, and Mama and Papa will be able to understand. Handle the rest for me. Once she’d completed those transactions, she thought of what to do with what was left. Yes… I can invest in a few companies using dummy accounts. I can buy a few properties. Some artwork. No… no, this is too much money for just me to handle. Not in the course of a single night, at least. I need some help. But who?

Keeper was too busy to help with such things, but perhaps… yes. There was someone she could reach out to.

She picked up her comm and keyed a frequency.

“Cipher Nine. I’m pleased to know you’re still alive.”

“Watcher One. Likewise.”

“It’s just ‘Gerard Margrave’ now. I’ve surrendered my designation, and am about to retire.”

“I’m just in luck then. You must be looking for a better, tamer job. Well-paying.”

“I’ll admit to needing some way to pass the time. What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve recently returned after a long deployment. Handed down from way up. The rewards are… substantial. Nine-figures substantial.”

The spymaster’s eyebrows rose. “That is quite the reward.”

“Yes. I have all the documentation that made this legal. And tax-free.”

“I see… and now you need a way to manage this wealth.”

“That’s right. Maybe even set up an actual corporation.”

“I’m surprised you’d be willing to trust me with such a venture.”

“I have to trust someone. I can’t do this on my own.”

“That much is true, I suppose.”

“If you have time, we can write up our agreement right now.”

The other human smirked. “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Here’s to a long and successful partnership.”

*

Chapter 32: From the Ashes of Ruin

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

7 ATC,
The Maelstrom Prison

Captain Jerre Kraot thought he was done for when he was hit by that brute’s shot. When that failed to fully get through his armor, he thought the long fall would kill him. Instead, he finally found a use for something he’d purchased years ago: the grappling gun. He’d almost forgotten he had it, but remember at just the right moment. He fired it in a random direction, and hit the pull switch the second the claw hit something. But he’d fired it at an angle, so he wasn’t pulled back to where he’d fallen from. Instead, he swung a bit, and landed on the opposite side of the catwalk, directly behind the Moff and his guards.

He engaged his stealth field generator, hoping to flank the enemy, but instead, he felt drawn in the opposite direction.

“This way,” a low voice said. It was familiar to him. It had spoken out several times since he’d been recruited by Jedi Master Oteg. He hesitated for a long moment before deciding to trust it. Why not? This whole operation was born from trusting this ghost.

He entered the heart of the prison, this giant fortress that had supposedly been constructed to constrain just one man. And there, he saw a man with a worn, tattooed face restrained in a force field. He limped forward, and decloaked before hitting the switch that powered the cage.

Moments later, the human who was trapped in suspended animation dropped onto the ground. Jerre hastened forward.

“Where… what’s happened? I can feel… no! No! What have you done? There’s nothing to restrain him now!”

“Beggin yo pahrdon, Jedi. Bu’ it’ wuz yoo tha’ was bein restrained.”

“Why can’t you understand? My being here allowed me to fight the Emperor’s resolve! It held him in check!”

Jerre couldn’t believe his ears. “Say what?!”

“I am the only thing keeping him from invading the Republic! My sacrifice is all that’s keeping the peace!”

“Well… ah donno ‘ow tuh tell yoo this, bu’ the galixy’s been a’ war for ove’ forty years now. Well… technicly th’ Republic lost, bu’ both sides are buildin’ up fo round two.”

The Jedi looked at him with wild denial in his eyes. “What did you say? That… that can’t be! So my sacrifice… it was in vain?”

“Ah donno bou’ anythin. Ah’m with Master Oh-teg. Once we getchoo outa here, maybe he c’n answer yor questions for yeh.”

“Oteg? He’s here?”

“Not quite. He’s in orbit. But… listen. We can use yo help. The fightin ain’t over outside.”

The Jedi looked at Jerre for a moment before nodding. He looked around, and found several dusty items sitting on a box; a mask and two lightsabers. He pulled them into his hands with the Force and nodded. “Let’s begin then.”

*

The fight was going badly. They were outnumbered. Several Republic soldiers had been shot down. The Sith and Jedi were too close a match for each other. The Akaza was particularly good, but he was under attack by six Sith. Everyone was already tired when they’d entered this fight.

Roban bitterly wondered how this fight would’ve gone down had Vajra been part of the strike team. Thinking back, he was certain the young Jedi was on a completely different level than most of these Jedi here.

“We may need to fall back, Sir!” Elara muttered. “Make our stand in the room behind us.”

“We can’t!” Jorgan shot back. “We don’t have the time, but they do! They’ve driven back our fleet! Their reinforcements should be here soon. All they have to do is wait. They won’t even have to chase us!”

It was at that moment that a wild card entered the field. A masked humanoid in dark blue robes, wielding two Lightsabers—one red, one violet. His heavy charge crushed the enemy rear like a garbage masher. The elite guards, who Roban was forced to admit were leagues better than Havoc Squad, were caught completely unawares. But perhaps the biggest shocker was when Kilran was shot by a man with pink hair who appeared out of thin air behind him. The Butcher of Coruscant shouted something whiny, but Roban couldn’t hear him.

His side were all celebrating the survival of their pilot, not to mention the tides being turned.

The Akaza took advantage of the sudden distraction to unleash his reserve. Three of his six enemies were knocked back into the steep drop behind them, and now the other three struggled to absorb the increased pressure.

Nariel Pridence charged forward to intercept a Sith who was about to punish Jerre for what he’d done. She held him long enough for the wild card to stab him from behind.

The elite guards had rallied by now—they had to have been exceptionally well-trained, to be able to regain their composure like this—but by now, enough Sith were down that several Jedi were able to engage them. The masked prisoner began fighting the Sith, and he was at least as good as the Akaza in terms of pure swordplay. Between the two of them, they were able to down all the Sith in a minute. The last of the guardsmen managed to shoot one last Jedi before he was run through.

Jerre hastened to the wounded Jedi’s side with his medpack in hand, but the others had raised a great cheer.

“We’ve done it!”
“We won!”
“KILRAN IS DOWN!”

Elara walked up to the dying Moff. Roban was too far to hear what the man’s dying words were, but Elara looked highly affronted. She took out her blaster, placed it under his chin, and fired ten times. His head was a bloody hole by the time she was done.

“He’s dead!” Elara called. “Checking his pulse and burning the corpse, just to make sure.”

Everyone laughed, even some of the Jedi. Elara could be a vicious little bitch when dealing with bloodthirsty war criminals. That was why Roban liked her so much.

“We need tuh geddouta here,” Jerre said. “Ah checked the sensors, and Imp scum ree-enfourcemen’s have entered the middle deck.”

“I hope we’ve got a way out of here,” Nariel said.

Kraot nodded. “The Moff’s person’l shuddle wuz on the othe’ side uf th’ cell. It’ll be a tight fit, bu’ bedder than nuthin.”

“Then let’s move,” the prisoner said. “If what you’ve told me is true, I have a lot of work to do, now that I’m free, and no time at all.”

“And what is the nature of your work, Sir?” Elara asked.

The prisoner’s reply was full of absolute certainty. “To destroy the Sith.”

*

Tython, not long after

Jerre was sitting in the cantina. He was looking for a new ship to replace the one he’d lost, grateful that the Order was paying him for it. Truth be told, he had enough to buy two or three dozen more, thanks to his share of Nok Drayen’s dirty money, but Captain Queens was right—just because he had money, didn’t mean he had to forget the concept of saving. He decided to do better; it was his intention to settle down, after all. Find a family.

He smiled as he got a funny limerick from Cedonia Teraan. That girl was discovering the joys of cussing. Good for her!

He looked up as someone sat down beside him. “Revan!”

“Please don’t stand up, Jerre. It occurred to me that I didn’t properly thank you for what you did. I’m grateful. If not for you, I’d be a prisoner while the Republic continued to burn.”

“Don’ mention it. Ah do mah part fo the R’public.”

“I heard. I had no idea you’d offered your services for free. Even sacrificed your ship.”

“Ah came across s’m money recently. Ah can afford t’ be gen’rous.”

“Good… good. I’m glad to have met you, Captain. You’re a good man. Patriotic. I’d be proud to continue working with you.”

“Workin’ with me, how?”

“What do you know about my history?”

Jerre shrugged uncomfortably. “Ahm sorry, Revan. Ah know yoo were a big shot back in yor day, but ah’ve neve been much fo studyin.”

“Oh.” The ancient Jedi looked a little taken aback. “That’s alright. Here are the cliff notes. The Mandalorians attacked the Republic without warning three hundred years ago, and conquered system after system with virtually no opposition. The Republic turned to the Jedi for help. But the Council refused.”

“What? Why di’ they do that?”

Revan snorted. “A debate for another time. But the bottom line is, that a lot of Jedi disagreed with the leadership. A lot of us chose to fight regardless of what our orders were. I was the one who led this splinter faction… the ‘Revanchists,’ as we called ourselves. We took control of the Republic military, and led the frontline combat against the Beskar-clad, Basilisk riding conquerors. It was a hard fight, but we eventually managed to beat them. My associate, Raya Kol, destroyed the Mandalorian fleet at Malachor V, and I slew Mandalore the Ultimate in single combat. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of things.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. For we found out that the Mandalorians hadn’t attacked us under their own steam. Someone had encouraged them. We—myself and my close friend Alek—sought to discover who it was. We found the Sith Emperor. But his influence was… it was terrible. He took control of us at once, made us his slaves. And then he loosed us back on our homes. We became Darth Revan and Darth Malak, and rained destruction on the Jedi… and the Republic. But we both broke free at some point. To a degree, at least. We were still Sith, but we were acting under our own initiatives. I began building up a force that could face the Empire which I knew was beyond the horizon. I discovered an ancient set of Rakata super factories, and decided to use one of them, the Star Forge, to build up a fleet capable of driving them back.”

“A fleet? A Star Forge? And who are the Rakkata?”

“The Rakata. Another topic for later. The bottom line is, that the Star Forge allowed me to build a vast fleet in short order.”

“Sounds like sumthin th’ Republic could use!”

“Unfortunately, it was destroyed. Malak betrayed me, and began using it recklessly, to the point where it grew unstable. I had to kill him, and destroy it. But by this time, I’d forgotten a lot of my past thanks to an accident, including the Emperor. I embarked on a journey of rediscovery, and this time, the Emperor kept me as a prisoner.”

“A horrible tale. But ah don’ see wha this got teh do wi’…”

“I now remember where the Foundry is. Another of the super factories. If I can get it functioning again, we can build up an army capable of taking on the Empire’s legions.”

“Really?”

“Really. But there’s a catch. My past life made it clear that the Jedi Council can’t be trusted to act. Or at least… to act quickly. Even my own flesh-and-blood chose to stonewall me, instead of helping me without question.”

“Yo flesh-an-blood?”

“Grand Master Satele Shan. My wife was Bastila Shan, with whom I had a son, Nevar. Satele is their descendant. My descendant. And she told me to cool my heels while her Council debated whether my work has merit.”

“I… I can’t believe…”

“Why not? They’ve done it before, haven’t they? The Mandalorian wars happened because the Council failed to act.”

Jerre’s head was reeling.

“Look, I’m not here to turn you against them. I am here to ensure that I’m able to carry out my task even when—I mean if—the Jedi refuse to help me. I need to start up the Foundry. And for that, I need allies. Resources. And where better to start than the man who set me free? You are everything that the Republic needs to win this war. You’re not afraid of giving it your all, even without the promise of reward. I can only offer you one thing in compensation: the annihilation of the Sith, and their foul Emperor.”

“Whado you need fr’m me?”

“Help. I need you to help me build up my network of allies, and recruit possible collaborators. Including Jedi.”

“Ah coul’ do that. Ah have a lod of contacts, includin’ a few in th’ Senate.”

“Good. I’ve got my own eye on a few candidates, but I can’t move too openly for now. Not unless I want to alienate yet another Council. Leave as quickly as possible, for time is short. Make contact with whomever you think is likely to help, who can also give us the best value. Stay in touch with me.”

“Got it. Ah’ll be seein you round, Revan.” Jerre already knew whom to call first. Senator Dodonna, with whom he’d spoken a couple of times about the Privateer initiative. She’d been the one to get him in touch with Oteg in the first place, so he definitely thought now was the time to return the favor.

As he left, he found another dirty, flirty message from Cedonia. He sent her a voice message. “Keep this up, an’ ah migh’ think yo’re courtin’ with me.”

Her response was quick. “Maybe I am. You know how to reach me, if you’re interested.”

*

Later that year,
The Foundry

“INCOMING!” Cedonia Teran cried, warning Jerre of an approaching wing of fighters. Jerre pulled the Fool’s Gold through a tight corkscrew to avoid their fire. He purposely avoided using full power to engines, allowing the fighters to gain on him. When they were close enough, he reversed thrust, and twelve fighters shot right past them. His gunners opened fire, and twelve lonely fireballs were born in the cold vacuum of space.

“General message from the Foundry,” Cedonia said, looking up from comms. “The Dracogriffs have overwhelmed the Foundry’s last defenses. Revan is under attack.”

“NOOOOOO!”

“We’ve got to retreat!” she insisted. “This fight is lost!”

“We were so close…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Wait… oh, no!” Jerre realized something.

“What?”

“Revan. He asked me to bring him a girl. A Jedi. I only just dropped her off…”

“Now is not the time to worry about anyone else. What’s left of the fleet is retreating. We need to head out before they capture us. Please!”

“Fine. But we’re gonna come back tomorrow.”

Maybe Revan survived this catastrophe. And maybe that girl did too.

It didn’t sit right with Jerre, the thought that he’d ferried a young woman to her doom.

*

A Week Later

There were no Imperial ships as the Fool’s Gold dropped out of Hyperspace this time. They had been, the first time he’d tried. And the next.

But they were gone now.

“Just look at that f*cking place,” Cedonia moaned. “It’s a f*cking crater down there where one of the galaxy’s three superfactories used to be.”

“Beder than in th’ ands uf the Empire, I guess.”

“Are you certain they got nothing?”

“Yep. Ah saw them craters on th’ first return trip.”

“Well… that’s good, at least. What in blazes are you hoping to find?”

“Revan. Or a’ least, that girl ah told you about.”

“There’s no way either of them survived for this long,” Cedonia said sadly.

“Ah godda try, Ceddy. Or a’ least, ah godda take back their bodies, if ah c’n find em. I owe er that much. She wuz jus fine, till ah pulled her here.”

“It’s not your damn fault. It’s the turd-eating Empire’s.”

“Still stings, ma’am.”

Cedonia patted his back. “You’re a bloody good man, Jerre. No wonder I like you so f*cking much.”

“Yoo godda do sumthin abou’ tha’ potty mouth, ma’am. Else, I ain’t gonna be able tah kiss it.”

“Oh, really? Is that a f*cking challenge?”

Without missing another beat, she repositioned herself on Jerre’s lap. She pulled down her collar enough that her cleavage was visible. Her other hand seized the back of his neck.

“Ceddy! Wha’ ‘re you doin?”

“Isn’t it more obvious than a Sith with his shriveled co*ck pointing in your direction? I’m distracting you. If you want me off, you kiss my potty mouth.” She closed her eyes and puckered up. She began to firmly rub her bottom on his groin.

Overtaxed by stimulation, and keen to regain his concentration before something dangerous came out, he gave her her kiss. Unsatisfied, she pulled his head closer and parted her lips. Reluctantly, he put his tongue in her mouth.

She stood up at once and stretched. “There! Was that so kriffing difficult?”

“Yo’re crazy, miss!”

“Come on, my Princeling! Live a little. I’ve been cooped up my whole f*cking life, always avoiding even the littlest of risks. If you have a problem, take it up with your own damn self. You’re the one who showed me what a thrill was.”

“Unfortunately right,” he acknowledged.

She smiled. “How long till we land?”

“Nawt long. Ten minutes.”

“Make it two, and I’ll not cuss for the rest of the f*cking day.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

Jerre cautiously descended down the ramp. This vac-suit made it difficult to move, but there was no longer an atmosphere on this rock. Or artificial gravity, for that matter. This place was just another dead asteroid now.

He sighed in frustration. There was no way anyone had survived this, not unless the seals on the Command Center—which was the only structure left standing—had held. He abandoned caution, as there were no surprises that he could see, and took his speeder to the Command Center.

The double security doors opened one after another, to ensure that the cold deadliness of space didn’t seep into the building. It was trashed on the inside, though a thin atmosphere still remained.

Jerre looked around. The safe had had its door torn off its hinges. All computers and terminals in the room were slag. Nothing had been taken, coz clearly, nothing had been salvageable after Revan was done destroying it all.

Jerre only saw one body; a man with yellow eyes and Sith armor. There was no Revan, and no girl. He did find his mask and Lightsabers, though. “Ah’m sorry, Revan.”

He waited there for a few minutes, thinking up some meaningful farewell, or at least a fitting prayer for a man who’d fought for three hundred years.

But as he struggled, he realized that something strange was happening. A space several meters away was distorting somehow. Like the moment before a quantum bomb explosion.

Before he could panic and run away, the spot exploded in Lightning and Fire. Jerre was thrown onto his back, some distance away. But not so badly that he was injured.

He got to his feet with a pained groan. “Whu’ appen’d?” He looked back at the place where the distorted spot had been, and screamed. Revan’s body had appeared, seemingly out of thin air.

Jerre rushed to his side. It ain’t over yet, he thought. Revan’s not done. Which means we’re not done.

*

Chapter 33: The Paymaster

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

5 ATC,
Hutta

It was just another day in paradise for Juda Mariposa. She’d long since gotten used to the perpetual aroma of sludge wafting in through the windows and cracks in the palace, but the roughs frequenting Nem’ro’s Palace always surprised her with newer, fouler smells.

Especially these days, with all the ongoing turf war.

A nameless Trandoshan sauntered up to her as if he owned the place and grinned. He was all but breathing in her face, and his breath made her feel ill despite the meds she was now taking on a daily basis. “Aren’t you a pretty little sssing? Wanna sssssee my—”

“Sorry, bit busy here. Nem’ro’s books ain’t gonna keep themselves.”

“Now don’t be like that, doll! I’m a bona fide warrior! And I’ve got quite a pretty little friend down here!” He flashed her shamelessly. Good lord, was he drunk?

“Listen, if I leave my post for you, we both gotta answer to Nem’ro. I got a lot of work to do.”

“You, little…”

“The Twi’lek says ‘no,’” said a deep razor of a voice. “Buzz off.”

The Trandoshan turned to see a tall, armored Palliduvan standing behind him. He had several cybernetics on his pale face, and his arms were crossed.

“BUZZ OFF? BUZZ OFF? Don’t you know who I am?” the Trando screamed. “I am the revered Rakraharn! I’m a legend among my people! I’ve got death marks in thirteen systems!”

“You really gonna brag about that in a place frequented by Bounty Hunters?”

“I’ll show you!” The Trandoshan drew his blaster and fired at the Palliduvan, who moved nothing more than his head slightly to dodge the shot. He threw a roundhouse punch on the creep’s face. Juda was awed by the power behind the blow, which sent the Trando flying so hard that he was almost flattened against the wall.

“Oops. Sorry about that,” the Palliduvan said drolly. “Looks like I spilled brains in your workplace.”

“Don’ worry about it, Handsome. Droids will have it clean in no time. What about you? Lookin for something?”

He seemed like he’d taken a mental stumble when she’d called him handsome. “I don’t suppose you’re the one we talk to for an appointment with the Hutt?”

“Nope. I’m just the bookkeeper and paymaster. You wanna talk to the boss, you go in there, and hope he likes you. Although…” she took a look at the Trandoshan with the very intimidating name she’d already forgotten. “After that display of punching strength, I think you’ve caught his eye. Go on in. And good luck.”

“Thank you.” Before leaving, he turned again. “You don’t happen to keep a peacemaker on you, do you? For safety?”

“Ehh. Nope. Dead broke.”

He pulled several items out of his pack. A scattergun, a belt with a holster, and a sheathed dagger. “Took these off one of Fa’athra’s dead goons. Keep em handy, hmm?”

“You’re givin’ me a gun?” She accepted it, trying not to let her amazement and gratitude show.

“Why not? I was helpless too, for a long time. It sucks.”

“Do I really look helpless to you?”

“Only in a joint rough as this, without a little friend or two on your hip.”

“Point taken. Thanks, Hon. I appreciate it. Say, do you like my hips? I’m thinkin’ they need a hand on them from time to time.”

The Palliduvan looked a little hopeful. “I’m hoping that’s an invitation.”

“Maybe.”

“Now?”

“Slow down, Sugar. I’m workin’. But def’nitely later, you hear? M’ name’s Juda Mariposa, and I’ll get your commlink frequency by the end of my shift!”

“And I’m Mark Fodorn.”

“Pleased to meetcha, Mark!”

“You too.”

“Sure thing, cute stuff!”

Once he’d entered the audience chamber, Juda giggled and ran her fingers over the scattergun’s barrel. This was her first time holding a blaster, but she’d seen plenty of them before. This wasn’t the shoddy, one-fifty-credit type you found on random thugs, but a handcrafted one. And there’s no way this new guy didn’t know about it. He just gave it to her, with zero hesitation. “Mark Fodorn, eh? I’ll be keepin’ my eye on you.”

*

Shortly after getting off her shift, Juda sent Mark a message. “Heya, Honey! It’s Juda here. I heard you’re goin’ after Huttsbane. Be careful out there; he’s a dangerous one. I’m planning some a little extra time off tomorrow around 15:00. I hope you can make it!”

His response was a simple “Hello. That sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great! I’ll wear my favorite perfume and coat just for you!” She laughed softly once she’d sent the message. She was looking forward to the next day.

*

Juda smiled at Mark as he emerged from Nem’ro’s throne room. “Hey, I think I’ve got a little something extra special for you!”

“Uh-huh. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Juda teased. “You’re a bad one. The right kind of bad.”

“You getting off work in ten minutes, right?”

She checked her chrono. “That’s right. Ten more minutes.”

“What would you like to have? I can place the order for you.”

“Damn, I haven’t thought of it. I tend not to eat much, on account of my bein’ perpetually broke.”

“No worries. I’ll just wait at the table for you.”

“Thanks, sweetcakes!”

She finished her last few entries and logged her break time. She stood and stretched. Her back was starting to feel a little funny. And her shoulder too. She made a quick trip to the powder room before heading out for her date.

Mark was waiting at a secluded table for her, eyes scanning the menu. She walked up to him and sat down. “Okay! Here I am!”

“Ah, good. I’m hopelessly lost here. I normally leave the choosing to my team. I just shoot stuff. You’re a smart girl, right?”

“Only with numbers. That’s all I do, all day, every day.”

“Can we trust the waiter to give us a good enough recommendation?”

“Why not? But you have to promise them a good tip if you enjoy it.” She felt uncomfortable. “Say, Mark, I need to be up front with you. I can’t pay for my share.”

“Got it. Don’t worry, it’s on me. You know how much Nem’ro just paid me.”

“But I don’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea. I’m not doin’ this just for a free meal. I really liked you.”

He looked surprised again. “Thank you. But I do have a question. Why does someone who works your job have so little money? Word around the street is that your boss pays loyal employees well.”

“He does pay me well. But my Mom is sick. I’m paying through the nose to give her the care she needs. That’s why—”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve had to give up a lot for her. But she went through hell to give me a half-decent upbringing.”

“Sounds like a very good mother.”

“She is! What about you, what’s your mom like?”

He shrugged, with a heavy sigh. “Last time I saw her, she was begging the last refugee ship escaping the war, to take in her toddler with them. That’s also the only memory I have of her.”

“I’m sorry, Honey!”

“So what kind of bills are we talking about?”

“3250 credits a month.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this a trauma dump about my problems. Here, let’s see if Kaji has any recommendations for us.” She flagged down the waitress, who raised an eyebrow upon seeing that she was eating in this cantina.

“If it ain’t Juda! What can I get for you, sweetie?”

“I donno,” Juda answered sheepishly. “Can you tell me what’s good in here?”

“I can get you the enchiladas. And the brandy.”

“Two, please,” Juda said, after looking at Mark for confirmation.

Once Kaji had left, Mark spoke up again. “Even if cash is a little tight right now, I’m surprised you’ve never been on a date before, at least.”

Juda snorted. “You see all the pretty waiters and waitresses, dancers, singers, and visitors? Why would someone choose a sweaty desk jockey when they’re right there? Besides. I’m thirty-two years old. Anyone looking for an actual date won’t look at me twice.”

“That can’t be right. I saw that Trandoshan propositioning you the first instant I saw you.”

“Yeah, and people like him come by often enough. But they’re not after Juda, they want Nem’ro’s paymaster. They’re either hoping I’d give them a little extra, or they think I can put in a good word for them. Never mind that the first would get us killed, and the second is just impossible. I’ve spoken to Nem’ro twice in my seven years of working here.”

“You’ve worked here for seven years?”

“Yeah. Few on Hutta are as good as I am, you know. And he’s one of the few willing to pay me a decent wage. People like Fa’athra only pay a pittance to civilians.”

“Does he allow you to freelance? To offer your services to select allies and clients for extra cash?”

“He might, if I asked him. But between his books and my Mom, I don’t have time for extra work.”

“Right.”

“Now, enough about me. Let’s talk about you!”

“I was a refugee most of my life. The lowest kind. Even less than the Evocii. I took an opportunity to join an army. That toughened me up a lot. Enough that I’m here today. I’d love to tell you more, once I’ve gotten to know you better. Also, when we’re not in a place like this.”

“Gotchu,” she smiled. If he didn’t want to talk about it, it probably meant he didn’t want word getting back to his old unit. She wondered if he was a deserter.

“I can tell you about my last job, if you want. It was thrilling. Lots of freed slaves, lots of dead Brothers.”

“As in, the Galactic Slaver cultist organization? Them? Ooo, I’ve got to hear this!”

“Good. I’ll try not to kill the story.”

*

Juda went home feeling a little better about the world. This was the first date she’d been on since she turned sixteen. Like she’d told Mark, the only people who came after her these days were creeps and thugs.

Well, many people would call him a thug too, she supposed. But not her. To her, he was perfect husband material.

*

5 ATC,

Juda found it difficult to focus. She kept looking at the door nervously, eager and afraid for the Mandalorian representative to show up.

And show up they did, in the wee hours of the morning.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she blurted out. “Mark? So it really was you!” She rushed forward and took his hands in hers.

“Hello, Juda. This is my partner, Mako.”

“How’dya do,” Juda smiled politely at the girl. She was thin and small, but Juda was certain she looked twenty or younger. Now was not the time. “I’m sorry, your Huntmasters must be eager to see this finished as soon as possible.”

“That’s right. We might have time to chat later.”

“Good. I was glad enough when they’d sent someone I knew, but I’m glad they sent you. Before I tell you what I know about this auction, I need to ask for a favor. There are bound to be some really nasty people at this auction, so please keep my name out of this. I don’t want to put my family in jeopardy.”

“Discretion is part of the service,” Mark promised her.

“Thank you. I discovered the auction through one of Nem’ro’s business associates. We were settling an account, and he asked if Nem’ro would be participating. I pretended to know what he was talking about, and that’s when I found out about the slicer and the list.”

“I need to know exactly where this Auction is going down.”

“It’s happening right here in Jiguuna. The Slicer left these details for Nem’ro. I hope they help. It should be starting any moment now. Please let me know how it goes. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

*

The ‘Auction House’

The situation was already deteriorating when Mako and Mark entered the abandoned warehouse the auction was taking place in. You could hear the shouts from outside.

At a signal from Mark, Mako nodded, and hung back. She hacked the poor security of the warehouse and set it to seal shut in fifteen seconds.

No one was getting out of here alive.

She then retreated to a corner of the warehouse.

As Mako returned her attention to Mark, she heard one of the goons beside him shout “What do we care what you want? We’re the most vicious killers in the galaxy! Any one of us can rip you limb from limb!”

“I say we kill im!” another shouted. “Then kill the slicer, and then use a different slicer to crack that list open for us!”

“Suits us!”

Mark shot first. All seven of the ‘most vicious killers in the galaxy’ were dead in two seconds. Almost right on cue, the warehouse doors closed. Mako, who’d been sticking to the shadows, activated the stealth field generator so she could attack flank these guys.

The slicer screamed like a small child and dived for cover. Mark fired a shot at him before turning his attention to the fifty or so people firing at him. Mako was stunned. She’d never seen him like this before. Using his enhanced reflexes, he was easily able to evade most of the incoming fire. The rest dissipated harmlessly on his shield, which would last longer since they weren’t being taxed so badly.

He fired three missiles in the middle of the crowd, forcing them to disperse. Mako chose the people at the back, and began killing them with shots to the back of the head. The stealth field flickered each time she did it, in reaction to the sudden discharges from inside their field.

Mako felt horribly vulnerable each time, despite her own armor and shield. She once again grudgingly saluted her partner for his nerve. He could stare a literal hundred blasters firing at him without a flinch.

They began to wear him down. As their numbers thinned to half, his shield failed. Shots began leaving carbon scores on his armor, though he was still evading the worst of them. He dropped his blaster at twenty goons remaining, and Mako assumed it had overheated.

He closed in with his vibro-axe and began cleaving heads in two. The last five guys closed in with vibroswords. Mark smashed one in the face with the hilt, stabbed another with the spike, then brought his axe down on the third’s face. Mako shot the other two.

“I can’t believe they didn’t notice you,” he nodded. “Good job. You have a talent for using that right.”

“I think I found a hidden subsystem in my cybernetics.”

“Nice. I’ll make sure to use it next time.”

“We done here?”

“No. I need to speak to the slicer.”

“Ah, so you didn’t kill him.”

“Nope. Just shot his knee.”

Mako followed Mark to the auction table. The slicer was pressed against a crate, doing his best to disappear into a shadow. Unfortunately for him, both Mark and Mako had implants that let them see in the dark.

“Hello there, slicer. Are you done whining?”

“Please! Don’t kill me—aAAAAAAAUGH!” Mark had shot him in the leg again.

“Start talking. How did you get the list?”

“Some guy! Said he was a Mandalorian! He got me the codes to break in! Said I could sell the names and make a fortune!”

“He just gave you the codes and said ‘get rich!?’ I don’t buy it.”

“It wasn’t a handout, there were conditions! I got the money, he got… well, I don’t know what he got. He said targets assigned to Tarro Blood were off-limits! Maybe he has money on this Blood guy winning.”

“Describe the man.”

“He was in armor the whole time! He was… I don’t know, between 190-200 centimeters! Broad-shouldered! Had a sigil that looked like a thorny human heart!”

“That doesn’t sound like Blood himself, but it is his clan’s sigil,” Mako muttered.

“That’ll help you find him, right? I told you everything I know! Please, just let me go! I’ll never talk about that list again!”

“One last question. Who else knows about this list?”

“Well… just Nem’ro’s paymaster, Juda! She helped me arrange the auction! We were going to split the profits, fifty-fifty! In fact, with everyone here dead, she’s the only one left who knows about this list! Please, let me go!”

“Sorry. Not part of the contract.” Mark shot the kid in the head before he could protest. “Cmon, Mako.”

“That’s it? I guess we’re going to Juda’s place now, aren’t we?”

“Yep. Assuming she hasn’t skipped town.”

They found Juda in her apartment. It was the one closest to the Palace, which was possibly a sign of how valuable she was. Or how long she’d worked here. A bit small though.

Juda opened the door at once when Mark knocked. She let them in, looking nervous.

“You’re back!” she said, her voice trembling from nerves. “Was everything taken care of?”

“Almost. We know you have a list too. And that you set up the auction in the first place.”

She squealed in fright and shrank away from both of them. Mako felt sorry for her.

“Relax. First, tell me. How much did you know?”

“It’s not what you think, I swear!” the Twi’lek wept pitifully. “I’m the one who called the Mandalorians, remember? I didn’t know about the Great Hunt list. All I knew was that Bilikan had some valuable information, and needed help finding buyers. He gave me a taste! Promised me he’d split the profits! I didn’t know what the list was until later!”

“You should know this by now, but ignorance is never bliss. Plausible deniability doesn’t work when you’re dealing with shady stuff.”

“I know… after all these years working for Nem’ro… I knew. But I just needed the money so bad… Here. This is the only other copy of the list that I know of. No one else knows about this! I kept it in case you found out, but I swear I was going to destroy it later!”

“Another thing many of us wouldn’t buy.”

The Twi’lek flinched. Mako was starting to feel guilty. She knew just how this was going to end.

“Please… please… I tried to make this right. Keep my name, and my family’s out of this!”

“Well, you are the one who called the Enclave, after all. That makes you the client. Not them. I’ll look the other way, this once. Be extra careful from now on. You can’t look after your Mama if you’re dead.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!” Juda launched herself at Mark and gave him a desperate, passionate kiss. Caught off-guard and more than a little grossed out, Mako turned and left the room.

She was in the cantina for about fifteen minutes before Mark returned. “Edit the slicer’s confession,” he told her. “Delete everything he said before my last question to him.”

“Got it. You surprised me. She was just a bit less guilty than the slicer. And from your expression, you clearly weren't doing it for that very awkward thank-you.”

“You really think so? If my implants told me she was likely being honest, yours must have too. She didn’t know about the list.”

“Ah, so you have one of those, do you?”

“Got it on Dromund Kaas. From that Imperial Intelligence guy. In exchange for my mercy.”

“Clever. I should get that too.”

“I’m heading back to the warehouse. I want to scan all those dead killers. They claimed they were very wanted men, after all.”

“Good call. We could use the extra cash.”

“I think you can stay here. Get yourself a drink. If any of Blood’s goons happens to be here, use your stealth field generator. Or any hostile, in general.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

Shortly after Mark left, Juda approached Mako as she sat tending a mug of rum. Hopped over, more like. “Someone had a good time,” Mako joked.

“I—I may have gone overboard. That was my first tumble in more than a decade. And I was so, so grateful!”

Mako snorted. “If you knew what kind of guy Mark really was, you’d be a whole lot more so. He’s a heartless, soulless, remorseless killing machine.” She sipped a mouthful of alcohol. “In fact, if I were in your shoes, I’d have faked my death and run. He’s not big on mercy.”

“What a glowing review.”

“Sorry. Like I said, I know what he’s like.”

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. He’s been nice to me. Twice now. And he didn’t have to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In case my closet of a room wasn’t enough indication for you, I’m very, very poor. So poor that I didn’t have a gun despite working in a place like this.”

Mako looked at her waist. “But you have one now.”

“Right. Mark gave it to me. The first day he came here, he stopped a Trando who’d been pestering me. And he gave me this, and a dagger to take care of myself. The sweetest thing a man can give a girl in this place, is a way to defend herself. Everyone else would just snort and say ‘I could protect you, if you become my woman.’ I’ve had to play a lot of very dangerous games to survive till this point. Until Mark gave this to me. Suddenly, no one was keen on botherin me no more.”

“That… that is kinda sweet actually.”

“And the best part, is that he didn’t even ask for a reward. Didn’t even hint that he wanted anything. Just ‘Are you the one I talk to for an appointment?’ or somethin like that.”

Mako snorted. “There are good sides to being a ruthless professional. I’ve never seen him flirt with someone while on the job.”

“But you’ve seen him flirt with women?”

Mako thought about it. “Good point. No, I haven’t. I don’t think he’s very good with women. Or maybe just trust. He’s lost his ability to trust anyone but himself easily.”

“That’s a relief,” Juda sighed. “I doubt I could compete with anyone else.”

“What? Are you stupid, or something? Haven’t you been listening to me? Mark is a dangerous man. You’re better off—”

“With whom?” Juda snorted. “Sugar, you’re on Hutta. The turf war is winding down, but it’s far from over. And even if it is, there’s always another problem around the corner. And even if that doesn’t happen, this place will always be filled with dangerous killers. People who wanna f*ck me over. Literally in most cases. But in all my years, he’s the only one who’s walked in, that respected me. Even my fellow employees don’t. Too busy lookin out for themselves. You take what you can get. I’m not gonna get anythin’ better. Not with… not with…”

“Not with most of your cash going for your mother’s treatment?”

“Exactly.” She sighed heavily. “I’m… even Mark is an unreachable dream for me. I’m stuck here, since I can’t scrape up enough credits to leave with my Mom. While Mark’s out there. And even if he doesn’t hit on one girl in half a million, he is gonna find someone soon. It’s a big galaxy out there.”

“I promise you this, though. Once you can get off—and I’m sure a clever girl like you will—you can do a lot better than someone like him. It may not look it here, on this gangster-run world, but a lot of men are decent folk who respect womenfolk.”

“And that brings me to my next problem. My age. How many of those nice guys are my age or older? Or would date a gal like me?”

“You’re fairly gorgeous, you know. And the answer is still ‘a lot.’ Many men out there end up in a divorce. Or widowed. Don’t give up. Don’t lock it in.”

Juda gave her a strange look. “You know… you seem to really hate him.”

“He’s brutal. I’ve seen him kill a lot of people. Painfully, when they cross him. That said, he doesn’t break faith first. If someone has been good to him, he’s good to them in return. And he looks out for his team. He tracked down and killed all of the Mandalorians who killed Braden and Jory. So viciously, that they’ve stopped trying to kill me while he’s away. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scare a Mando, even dogs like Clan Blood?”

“I can imagine. I’ve seen a few Mandos pass through here. Loud, arrogant, deadly.”

“Mark called every single one of them gutless. Right within their compound on Dromund Kaas. And he hunted a few of their number for corruption. Not a one of them stood up to him. Well, looking at that, I’d say he’s a good guy to marry, if you want someone watching your back.”

“I’m no fighter, Puddin’. I’m just good with numbers and details. And he sounds swell.”

“Well, if you want him, then go for him. Just don’t say no one warned you.”

“Thank you!”

*

8 ATC

Juda was sitting in the cantina. In the darkest corner in the place had. And squeezed into that same nook, was what looked like every girl in the palace. Ever since that new guest had arrived, most girls didn’t feel safe.

He was handsome enough. Striking, actually. Almost every girl in the palace—and by this, Juda meant every girl who liked men—had developed an instant crush on him.

Until he opened his mouth to speak. His flirting was best described as ‘garbage human male thinks girls don’t have the right to say no.’

Unfortunately, he was here as Nem’ro’s guest, so Juda couldn’t pull out the gun to scare him off. She’d tried. He’d just laughed. One of Nem’ro’s guards had actually caught her eye and shook his head.

Whoever the guy was, he spent hours with Nem’ro. It was only when the first payment stubs came in, that Juda had worked out that he was a surgeon.

He’d hit on her every chance he could. And on everyone else.

And so, here she was. Staying as far out of the way as she could.

Her comm crackled. “Paymaster. Please return to your desk.”

She sighed in defeat and stood to leave.

“Is it for him?” Kaji asked.

“Probably.”

“Stay strong, girl. You’ve dealt with worse.”

When Juda reached her desk, she found the man waiting for her.

“Hey there, darling! Fancy meetin me here, eh?”

“Hello, Sir. I apologize for the delay. I’ll have your payment in two minutes.” She began typing the necessary into the keypad.

“No need to rush, beautiful! I like spending time with you!” The man showed off all seven million of his teeth in what he thought was a winning smile. Admittedly, they were whiter than a Jedi’s soul.

“Please, Sir. I’m working here.”

“Not right now, you ain’t. You’re waiting for the transaction to be processed, right? And the books to be cleared? And even after that, we’ve both got the time. And you want it, don’t you?”

“Sir, I need you to step away from my desk.”

“C’mon, beautiful! We both know you can’t play rough with a… ahem highly distinguished guest of the esteemed Nem’ro the Hutt!”

“Please, Sir. Leave me alone.”

“Now, we both know you don’t mean that!” He leaned in closer. His breath made it clear he was more than a little drunk. He pulled her face up by the chin and went straight for a deep kiss. He winked once he pulled back. His hand went to her chest. “There ain’t a woman in the whole, wide galaxy who can resist ol—HEEEEEY!”

He was yanked away from Juda by a powerful hand. Her savior slammed the slimeball into the ceiling, then rammed him onto the ground. “OOOOOF!”

The man then kicked the buzzard in the stomach, flipping him over.

“Don’t you know who I am?” the scum gasped. “I’m a guest of the great Nem’ro the Hutt! You can’t touch me!”

A deep, razor-like voice rang out through the hall. “Yeah? I’m in the habit of taking down 'untouchable' sh*t stains like you. Wanna watch how I do it?”

He pulled out a dagger and stabbed the man in the gut. The scummy physician's scream was loud enough to make Juda clap her hands on her tcharan.

“Not very inventive. But hey, I'm in a hurry. Usually I'm a lot more brutal. Consider yourself lucky. Hey, Juda. You okay?”

“Mark?”

“That’s me. Sorry it took so long to get back here.”

“No, no! It’s no trouble at all!”

“This time I got more than brains all over your floor.”

Juda looked at the guards. No one had moved. “I think someone will clean up soon.”

“Good. You and I need to discuss something. Can I buy you some lunch?”

“Okay!”

As Mark began to lead her away, the doctor began to beg for assistance.

“He stays there until he’s dead,” Mark called. “Tell your boss he can take it up with me, if he has a problem.”

A furious flurry of nods.

“Please, help me!” the creep groaned. “I can’t die here! Not till I got that Jedi to pay for what he did! I survived the recapture of Balmorra; please, I can’t die here!”

The last thing Juda heard was Carnus’ low growl. “Shut it, prick. There ain’t a soul on Hutta who’d risk a fight with the Champion of the Great Hunt over you.”

The girls were all waiting at the door, lured by the sound of the man’s screaming. They all had devilishly gleeful grins on their faces.

Mark led Juda to a private booth before speaking. “I’m a millionaire now.”

Juda blinked. That wasn’t the first thing she’d been expecting him to say. “Wow! I knew the Great Hunt would make you rich, but… a millionaire? That’s just… wow!”

“Seventy-five, to be exact. And the funny thing is, most of that wealth came from the thugs I killed along the way. I got twelve for the goons I killed here in Jiguuna.”

His slight smile made Juda certain he was referring to the auction. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Unfortunately, I know next to nothing about managing money. Luckily, I know someone who does. So here’s my proposal for you. If you come with me, your life changes completely. You get to live the life. Your mom gets the best care that eight figures can buy. Maybe she can get cured completely. I’m buyin’ a crib somewhere out of the way. Maybe Rishi. You can live there, and manage the house and finances, as my... as my wife.”

“Well, that’s a tempting offer, but—wait, what was that last part?” Juda’s stomach had been sinking like a bag of bricks until he’d reached the end of his pitch. “To manage your house and finances… ‘as your wife?’”

“Don’t like that, do you?” he asked quickly. “It’s alright. You can join me as just my employee. I’ll still pay you well—”

“Are you kidding? The only thing I’m upset about is that you didn’t lead with that!”

“What?”

Juda had started to cry. “I’ve been waiting for someone to waltz in and solve all of my problems in one fell swoop for almost ten years now! But more than that, I’ve been waiting for them to sweep me off my feet! I like you, Mark. I really do. I’ll happily be your woman. You should’ve started with that! You should’ve said ‘Hey Juda! You’re a kind and sweet girl, you’re exactly my type, and I’ve never been able to stop thinkin’ about you! Please marry me!’ And then, when I said ‘I dunno, Mark. I’ve got to take care of my mom,’ that’s when you shoulda told me about the money! And you’ve still not told me you love me!” She was almost sobbing hysterically when she was done. But at least she wasn’t shouting.

“I—” He looked around helplessly for a moment. For a moment, Juda recalled Mako telling her that he didn’t know how to deal with people. But she didn’t care. This should’ve been basic! “I’m sorry, Juda. You’re a kind and sweet girl, you’re exactly my type, and I’ve never been able to stop thinking about you. Please marry me.”

She giggled through her tears. “I dunno, Mark. I’ve got to take care of my mom.”

“Then we can take care of her together. I’m a millionaire now. We can share what’s mine, and you can help me manage it.”

“Really?” Juda smiled wide. “Of course! Yes, yes!” She leaned forward to kiss him. “Wow! I can’t believe this is happening! It’s happening, right?” She pinched her cheek once just to make sure, then her lekku. “Yep, it’s happ’nin!”

“C’mon now. Stay behind me while I negotiate with your soon-to-be-former boss. I don’t trust these guys not to do something to you.”

“Of course! I can’t wait to be done!” I’m getting off this rock! She thought to herself. I’m really getting off this rock! With Mom! Oh, thank you, whoever’s watchin me from up there!

*

Chapter 34: Future of the Thuul

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

9 ATC,
Elana Thul’s Private Residence, Alderaan

Per Hekaten’s expectations, Lady Elana Thul was not all smiles when she saw him emerge from the Bebalon Library.

“Lady Elana! How nice to meet you again.”

“Lord Hekaten,” she said tensely. “It’s good to meet you too. I heard about your promotion to Lord. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“This way.” She led him out of her private hangar and down the paths of her garden. “Janessa, get us the tea and snacks, please.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She wasn’t in the mood to talk, so Hekaten took in the splendid scenery and climate. He felt the cool mountain breeze ruffle his hair. “I hear the fighting is dying down.”

“That’s right. House Thul’s armies have lost on all fronts. We have negotiated a surrender with the other Houses. We will be allowed to return to our home, but we won’t be allowed to bear arms for three generations.”

“And they will keep an eye on all of your transmissions and messages.”

“More or less.”

“And you told me that you renouncing all of your ties to the Empire too.”

“That’s right. I allowed you to return here as a courtesy. You saved my life, after all.”

“And here I thought we were friends, too.”

“Maybe we were. But you’re a Sith. I tried to ignore your kind’s… blatant evil for years, but now…”

“Calm down. Please.”

The servants returned, laden with tea and cakes. Hekaten waited for them to depart before continuing.

“Believe it or not, I’m not here to punish you. Or to change your mind.”

Elana blinked. “You’re not?”

“No. In fact, I was pleased with this turn of events.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You were nice to me when you were here, Hekaten. But I was almost taken to Darth Angral’s ship despite being your Empire’s ally. I was to be tortured to death.”

“I did warn you to stay away from us.”

“It’s not like I went looking for trouble! He just barged in! Demanded that we give him everything!”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s dead. He wasn’t long for this world anyway. He’d incurred the wrath of House Rooks back home. And I’ve seen firsthand how deadly the Tiarna can be. Angral would have fallen.”

“Fat lot of good it would’ve done me. Or the people of Uphrades.”

“Uphrades? Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it. What happened there?”

Elana took a sip of her tea. “Uphrades was an agricultural world. It was one of several worlds that feed Coruscant. The biggest one of these. Angral field tested his weapon there. Set the atmosphere ablaze. Nothing on the planet was spared. Seven million people.”

“Angral was a monster.”

“All Sith are monsters.”

“Not all. But I’m not here to argue that.”

“What are you here for, then?”

“To have an important talk before a window closes for good.”

“What important talk?” Elana held this defeated look, like someone who was certain of her approaching death.

“I don’t know if I told you this, but I was born a slave.” He touched his face. “This thing here is a slave brand.”

She raised her eyes. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“So you see, I understand the bad side of the Empire—and the Sith—a lot better than you do.”

“Then why stay?”

“For my son.”

Her mouth hung open.

“And my wife. My father. My brothers. My sister. And their families. You see, they were all taken away when I started my journey. Darth Marr wanted to keep them safe for me. Rivals would’ve taken advantage of them, if they hadn’t been kept secret. Even the name ‘Hekaten’ isn’t the one I was born with.” He took a bite of the cake. “Do you understand now?”

“They’re being held hostage?”

“Darth Marr isn’t the sort to do that. But yes, the other Sith are, essentially. If I were to request their return, the others would find out. Like that prick Thanaton. I don’t even know where most of them are. I haven’t dared to look.”

“I’m sorry, Hekaten.”

“Don’t be. I will find them all eventually. And I will free them. And once I do, I’m leaving the Empire. I imagine the Jedi and Republic would be pleased to have a defector with my knowledge. But that seems like a last resort. I don’t want to join the Order if I can help it. I want to live in peace, now.”

“I see…” Elana was starting to understand where this was heading. “You want Alderaan as your new home. Is that why you’re happy I’m leaving too?”

“Yes. Even with all of the fighting, this was a beautiful world. And now that it’s stopped…”

“Yes. It’s almost idyllic.”

“This won’t be a bad place for me to start a new life. And you needn’t worry about us abusing your hospitality. My family can join your staff. And depending on how long I take, I might be able to get a small fortune. Well, I already have a small fortune, but… less small, you know?”

“You needn’t worry about that. If you do defect, I’ll help you start a new life. I owe you my life, after all.”

“Thank you.”

“How long before this happens, you think?”

“Well, first I need to deal with Thanaton. Sadly, he’s a Dark Councillor, so I’ll likely have eyes on me for months afterwards. But I’m planning…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve built a hideout on Tatooine.”

“The desert world? Why there?”

“I’m surprised you know about it. Because it’s far out of the way, and its dunes can hide the things I want hidden. Aside from just my own family. There are secrets I have discovered, which the Sith cannot be allowed to get their hands on. Relics, formulas, spells. And yet, I cannot destroy them, either.”

“Why?”

“It’s the principle of guarding knowledge. Like… studying and keeping samples of the Rakghoul plague in order to stop its spread in the galaxy, should it migrate off-world. If ever it’s needed, the Force will guide seekers to my repository.”

“I see. Sounds iffy to me.”

“Perhaps. My greatest fear is that someone like Angral discovers some of the things I’ve learned. But the greater fear is that there might not be someone to stop them. Might not know how.”

“Jedi Vajra will,” Elana said confidently.

“Who’s this, now?”

“The man who stopped Angral. I’ve seen him in action. He saved my life, too. And fought here on Alderaan. I’ve learned that it’s foolish to bet against him.”

“Sounds like a deadly warrior.”

“He is! Oh, but he is!”

“Come to think of it… Marr and Malgus were soundly defeated on Balmorra, by one young Jedi—”

“That was him too!” Elana said fiercely. “I heard about it this morning! Oh, how I wish he’d managed to kill at least Malgus! But it’s enough that he slipped through their trap. Did you know, they arranged for quite a big trap? They were wary of him, so they arranged for him to be left virtually alone in battle for quite some time. They fought him when he was tired and weak. And he still won!”

“Yes, I think I’d heard of that too!”

“With champions like him, the Sith will be thrown onto the back foot.”

“I am relieved. I should look him up, so I know to run.”

“It’s easy. He has blue skin, and four arms. He wears a mask, too. Most Jedi don’t.”

“Thank you for the warning. I’ll have a white flag in my pocket at all times.”

She laughed. “You’re such a clown.”

“I’m practicing. I need a job once I’m free, after all.”

“A better place for you would be the reliquary. I can assign you as my personal envoy to House Alde.”

“Is there a House Ran?”

“Not yet. And we’ve been making that joke for centuries.”

“I haven’t.”

“Hmmm.” She raised the cup to her lips. “How do you see this war ending?”

“Same way it began. With a bang. Sadly, this conflict is different from the Alderaanian civil war. As bad as things were here, they were still not so bad that they couldn’t be resolved with a treaty. Alas, the Republic and Empire, Jedi and Sith cannot be so easily reconciled. Not after all the people who have died in this war.”

“I understand. It’s a shame.”

“I don’t think so. It will be nice if the war ends because all of the Angrals and Malguses have been conquered.”

“And the Emperor?”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Hekaten confessed. “Aside from the whispered stories of his birth and ascension. He is all but a god. The epitome of what it means to be Sith. He is certainly powerful. One does not remain the Dark Lord of the Sith for a thousand years, unless he is so far beyond his competition. And I really doubt your champion would fare so well against him.”

“I think he might.”

“Everyone has limits, Elana. Don’t be so quick to believe in his omnipotence. Don’t forget; Marr and Malgus managed to wound him. And the Jedi Council seems to be throwing him at all of their problems. It won’t be long until they overreach.”

Elana harrumphed. “Come now, Hekaten! This is the most hopeful I’ve felt since I was a child! Let me have this dream!”

“Fine, fine.” His comm started to buzz. “Dammit. Looks like my time is up already. Thanaton’s cronies are at it again.”

“I’m sorry you’re already leaving. Perhaps we can have a real chat next time.”

“Yes. Until the moon has waxed and waned in the heavens.”

She giggled.

Chapter 35: The Rogue Sith

Chapter Text

9 ATC
A town on Ryloth

Vette poked her head out of her hidey-hole. It looked like they’d given up and moved on. About time! She’d been hiding here for… she checked her chrono. Ten whole minutes!

She carefully stepped outside with her tongue between her teeth, placing each footstep so softly onto the leaf-covered ground that there was no noise whatsoever; a skill she’d picked up and perfected over years of training—

And that was when the screams made her stand up straight with a mighty jerk.

“THERE SHE IS!”
“LET’S GET HER, LADS!”
“DON’T LET THAT MIDGET GET AWAY!”

Or at least, that was what she thought they said; she didn’t understand Twi’leki. Next second, she was tackled to the ground by a swarm of pint-sized squirts.

“Okay, okay, you caught me! Akh—” she laughed and choked, as the children rolled her around. Some sat on her stomach. Others kept a tight hold on her limbs. One little toddler even held onto her lekku, as if determined to keep her from using this most secret of weapons.

Judane Opar hurried over and clapped loudly, saying something that instantly made the kids stop trynta choke Vette. They jumped around and yelled, tossing their little arms high into the air.

“Okay, okay!” she giggled as the toddler insistently attempted to get her to pick him up. “Yes, I love you guys too! No, I don’t understand Twi’leki!”

“Well, you should!” Judane’s husband Cham admonished her. “It’s the language of your people.”

“I’m leaving, and not coming back!” Vette decided. All the kids voiced a long, low voice of protest.

“We love you, Auntie Vette!” Nissin cried. “You’re the best at hide!”

“None of the other grown-ups can run and scream like you can!”

“Aha! So you do understand basic, you lil rascals!” Vette patted a few heads and kissed a few cheeks to show she wasn’t being serious. “Anyway. I’ve lived my whole life offworld. I don’t feel like picking up a new language.”

“How about the language implant though?” Judane suggested.

“Nuh-uh. I’m mor-tal-ly scared of chips and surgeries.” Vette didn’t know if she’d used that word right. Jasme had been helping her ‘expand her vocabulary.’ She’d had great fun teaching her bestie Vajra, so she thought she could help Vette where even Jaesa and Lady Kai had failed.

And to be honest, she kinda was. Vette had learned many difficult words inside her tu-te-lage. Now, if only she could be certain she was using them right, then they could call that fantastic progress!

“We do appreciate you as well,” Navara Hetton said. “Even if you don’t speak our tongue or practice our customs, you’re always bringing lost treasures back home. And luxuries we just can’t afford anymore.”

“We are always an exploited people,” Sarada Hetton la-men-ted. “If it’s not the Empire or Hutts, it’s the Zygerrians, Brothers, Trandoshan, Gran, Neimodians, or Duros!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I was a slave until I was rescued. My first real friends taught me how to shoot. Hey, maybe I should bring guns next time? If our people could defend ourselves, maybe we wouldn’t worry about being enslaved no more!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Vette. But surely you know that Twi’leks aren’t always nice to other Twi’leks? We’ll go from being enslaved by aliens, to being tyrannized by our own people. It’s happened before.”

“Oh. Right.” Vette shrank back, remembering all the jerks who made her life miserable. Many were Twi’leks working for the slavers and owners.

“We do need a proper military again at some point,” Navara said strongly. “It’s the only way we protect ourselves from every half-baked pirate group that thinks they can just waltz in and take what they want. You don’t see anyone enslaving humans.”

“I do, actually,” Vette contradicted him. “Every day. There’s just more of them. Like a lot more. The richest people in the galaxy, and the poorest, are both humans. That’s what happens when you’ve got a big enough sample size.” Or so Jasme had told her, and Vette had learned not to doubt Jasme.

“I see,” Navara said doubtfully.

“But let’s not get caught up in the heavy stuff. If Ryloth does get a military of its ow, it won’t be because of lil ole me and this ragtag band of merry leks, right?”

“You’ve got any plans for today?”

“I dunno… all that hiding made me hungry.”

“As it happens, supper is ready,” Sarada smiled, clapping her hands once. “Rycrit stew and much-fungus bread!”

“Again?!” all the kids cried out in dismay, but Vette applauded enthusiastically.

*

Just before Dawn

Vette was on a stroll when her comm started to chime. “Elo! Cutie Pie Supreme incorporated! This is the CEO and top model speaking. How may I help you?”

Jaesa Willsaam giggled. “I’m glad you’re in such high spirits! How are you?”

“I love it here!” Vette replied, excitedly bouncing from foot to foot. “It’s all Jasme said it would be, and more! So much more! The trees, the lake, the berries growing around every corner! And the whole place smells of flowers and trees! And the lakeside resort…!”

“That’s good to hear. Take some holos for me, would you? I should plan a vacation for myself too, but don’t know where to go!”

“I hear ya! It’s tough to top Kouhaush Muin. This place is a secret treasure.”

“And it’s all ours! Oh, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yep. Their carved wood statues are as beautiful as Jasme promised they would be. I’ve nabbed a few seriously sexy ornaments for her new office doors. They’re already packed, and sitting in the cargo hold.”

“Good,” Jaesa nodded. “How long do you plan on staying?”

“Good question. Maybe not too much longer. I love the lil scamps that live here, but I’d like to live with Tiiva before I get back.”

“Ohhh, that’s right! How old is her baby right now?”

“His first birthday is a couple’a days away. He’s growin’ up too quickly!”

“They always do. And we grow up too quickly as well.”

“Yeah. I think I’m starting to get what Lady Kai meant.”

“She misses you,” Jaesa whispered. “Having a partner is good and all, especially when it’s Jasme, but you’re the life of this party.”

“Ha-ha. Lady Kai’s plenty lively by herself. Bet’cha she just told you to say that.”

Jaesa’s smile said guilty as charged. As they were talking, Vette noticed a strange sound, and a familiar one: the whine of a Fury-class Interceptor coming in for a silent landing. She looked around quickly, trying to hone in on the sound of the engines, finally identifying it by the birds that took off early.

“What is it?” Jaesa asked, noticing Vette’s sudden shift.

“A Sith Interceptor. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Okay.Stay safe, contact me if something goes wrong. If I don’t hear from you in one hour, I’m sending in the cavalry.”

“Thanks.”

Vette wished she’d brought her stealth belt along with her. But she hadn’t been expecting trouble of this sort. At least she had Dumpling and Kebab on her hips. And Sharktooth too, though she wasn’t so great at using it yet.

“Hooh-kay!” she told herself, slapping her cheeks to smack the fear away. “Vette patrol mode, on! Everything’s gonna be okay-zay!”

*

Vette made it to the LZ not long after the ship had landed. It wasn’t as far off as she’d thought. She crawled on her elbows and knees, thankful for the grass, flowers, and soft mud that made it easier on her poor, poor joints. She was about twenty meters away when she saw him.

A handsome young human male in a red-and-black robes. He had a deep red tattoo on his face, and a thin moustache and beard. His hair seemed dark brown in the light from his ship.

He was talking to several helmeted troops and a droid, evidently giving them directions.

Vette’s Vette sense started to tingle, warning her that something was off. She looked around nervously, but saw nothing. A sudden thought made her look at the ground, and her gaze fell beside a tree, where some grass and flowers were all bent and squashed in a very awkward way… like a cloaked somebody was standing there.

Something suddenly landed before her. A voice whispered, ‘BOO!’

Vette screamed before she could stop herself.

A beautiful young woman with dark blonde hair and yellow eyes appeared out of thin air, an unlit Saberstaff in her hands. “You’ve got a good eye there,” she said in a calm, rational voice. “Ah. Ray. You heard that.”

“I think every deaf snake heard it,” the man’s voice was calm and mod-ula-ted. Also, amused. “Nice lungs you’ve got there, little smoll. And nice voice too.”

“Thanks.”

“Why were you spying on us?” the man called ‘Ray’ asked. He didn’t sound too upset, like he was conducting a routine query.

“Oh, ease off, Ray. We’re on her planet. Undoubtedly, she saw us landing, and wanted to see what we were up to. Many of us have a bad reputation after all.”

“Sure thing, Mira. Are we just going to let her sit on her caboose for Marr-knows-how-long?” He offered her his hand.

Vette took it and stood up.

“You know, I think I recognize her!” the woman said as Vette was dusting off her pants. “This is Tiarna Kaimeryn’s close friend. What was her name?”

“I think it was… Vette?” the man asked, looking surprised. “No… can’t be her. She’s rarely in a different place than the Tiarna.” He took a few steps back and made a frame around Vette’s face with his hands. “Ohhh! You’re right! It is Vette!”

“You know who I am?” Vette was surprised. “How many Sith know me coz of Lady Kai? Also… did you need to strike that pose to recognize me?”

“No, he didn’t.” Mira walked up to her friend and lightly slapped the back of his head. “He’s just a clown.”

“Is he really! Hold on, I’ve got just the thing for him!” Vette dug into her pack and pulled out the wig and nose from her clown costume and placed it carefully on his nose and head (his knees were still bent). She then pressed the nose, which gave out a loud party squeak.

Both Sith stood there looking stunned for a moment. Then the man fell over laughing and squeezing his new nose. “THIS IS PERFECT!” he declared. “I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED THIS TILL TODAY! HEY, MIRA! WATCH THIS!” And he squeezed the nose again a couple of times, extra fast.

Mira began laughing too. “You’ll fit in with us just fine!” she said, rubbing Vette’s head.

“Thanks! I live to please. So, um. Why are you guys here?”

“We’re tracking a particularly Sithy Sith,” Ray said, still wheezing.

“By the name of Thana Vesh.”

“Ewww. That pyromaniac? I met her on Ziost and Taris. Hated her. Hated having to let her go on Taris. She’s on Ryloth now?”

“Yes. Darth Mortis charged us with bringing her back.”

“No offense, but are you guys enough to take her down? She was pretty skilled at carnage.”

“And I’m very good at pushing her buttons,” Ray said with a smile so bright, it reflected the first rays of the sun. It was then that Vette knew she had to put a collar on this guy.

“Is he yours?” Vette asked Mira in an undertone.

The blonde chuckled. “Two of a kind. Go on, take your shot. Just remember that he’s a little over the top.”

“Sister, I’m from Lady Kai’s school of flashy and flam-boy-ant. If he can top that, I’ll beg her to buy him a year’s supply of cake. No one talks to her about cake.”

“Why?” Ray asked curiously.

“It’s a big secret why, but she doesn’t like talking about cake.”

“We’re getting sidetracked,” the woman said after a few moments’ silence. “This is Rrayden Scorn. I’m Mirabelle Travvor. But we just answer to Mira and Ray.”

“We’ve been friends since we were toddlers.”

“By which he means, it’s been my lot in life to keep him out of trouble.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Really? You look like the sort to cause problems.” Ray squeaked the nose again.

Vette chuckled. “Lady Kai is worse. Besides, I rarely ever get into trouble. No one sees me coming or going.”

“She’s not joking,” Mira muttered. “I got lucky. I only noticed her when she passed right in front me. If she’d had a stealth field generator, I’d never have known she was there. And she noticed me when I was cloaked.”

“It’s easy to miss something so tiny, isn’t it?”

“Nuh-uh,” Vette shook her head with dignity. “I get enough of that from two-meter-tall Kai.

“Got it. Anyway, I guess your wit isn’t the only reason she keeps you around!”

“Can you shoot?” Mira asked rit-tor-ecally… rhetorically?... but Vette answered anyway.

“Anyone can shoot, especially when your guns are Dumpling and Kebab. It’s aiming that’s the real trick, isn’t it? I’m a deadeye sharpshooter at up to 150 meters with these things.”

“Damn, that’s good. That’s good, right?”

“I think so. Are we going to ignore that she calls her blasters Dumpling and Kebab?”

“Oh. Ha-ha!”

“We’re getting sidetracked again. We need to talk about Thana Vesh. The fire hazard we’re looking for.”

“You sure she’s over here?” Vette asked doubtfully. “The only settlement around for a long ways off is the one I came from.” She pointed. “And I’m pretty sure she ain’t there. It’s too small for me to not notice a human.”

“She’s not got too big a lead on us anyway,” Mira said. “And we know her ship landed some distance away. About two hours ago, going by our tracker.”

“She’s a negative Grade-S pilot,” Ray put in. “So we’re sure it was a crash landing.”

“She’s been hitching rides on Imperial shuttles and carriers since the destruction of Olaris. She’s been an embarrassment to the Sith ever since, provoking anyone and everyone whom she saw as a rival. But about three days ago, she conducted an unsanctioned raid on a fortress in Dxun, without waiting for confirmation who was in it. She burned it down, and the wife and daughters of Moff Kilran were among the dead. The sole survivors to his legacy. By all accounts, they were well-liked and highly competent. Also killed was King Petryph of Onderon, who was preparing to switch sides. She’s not someone whose antics can be ignored anymore.”

“Darth Mortis charged us to bring her in. But she fled as we got there. Stole a small civilian courier ship and noped out of the Onderon system.”

“But all our civilian courier and merchant ships come with beacons. We were able to track her here. Some distance away.”

“Why land here?” Vette asked. “Not the crash site?”

“Because Thana Vesh is not an idiot. The first thing she’d do in this situation is secure another ship. So…”

“She’ll want to take mine!” Vette realized. “No way! She can’t have that! Not the Kairvette!”

Both Sith were a little distracted by the name, Ray more than Mira. The blonde shook it off and pulled her partner in the direction Vette had come from. “You’re a master at sidetracking,” she commented in mock-irritation. “And when paired with this dear fool, you’re a threat to Imperial security.”

Vette giggled.

“I hope the Kairvette isn’t an easy ship to hijack. Way too many ships these days are.”

“Nope. Lady Kai believes in the tightest security. And the place where I’ve parked doesn’t look like a regular docking bay. Hard to tell it’s there until the skylight is open.”

“That’s good, at least.”

“What about your ship?”

“I can only hope she tries,” Ray answered. “She won’t last a minute.”

“If she doesn’t find a ship, Thana’s next resort would be to steal a speeder,” Mira continued. “The best available to her.”

“That town don’t have high-end speeders, except for the ones locked up in the Kairvette.”

“Then she’ll throw a hissy fit and take what she can get,” Rrayden laughed.

“But she will burn down the town first. That’s why we lie in wait.”

“Do we need to evacuate the townsfolk?”

“Do they have a bunker?”

Vette thought. “We have my ship. It’s big enough to hold everyone.” Damn. The kids are gonna be so pleased. I need to lock the co*ckpit. And the cargo hold. “So, uh. What’s your security measure?”

“Hmm?”

“Why won’t she last a minute inside your ship?”

“Oh. I have a jibli cat. She’s allergic to jibli cats.”

“That’s why he bought ten,” Mira revealed. “But I admit they’re very, very cute.”

“Damn. You seem to know her quite well!”

Both laughed. “She was a year our senior in the Eastdrift Academy,” Mira explained. “We were forced to endure her for two years. Well. I endured her for two years. Ray had to stay with her for an extra couple of months.”

“That doesn’t add up,” Vette said. “She was Lady Kai’s classmate in Blood Temple Academy. On Ziost. And I’m pretty sure you’re a bit older than she is.”

“Right. Because Rrayden here managed to get her… demoted.” Mira’s laugh was the satisfaction of a prank played off to perfection. “Also, she looks younger than she is. She’s small, and immature.”

“You see, I was given a double promotion. Taken to Korriban a year early. Maybe it was the good behavior.”

Mira rolled her pretty eyes. “Actually, it was because the Overseer didn’t want Locsut to be the one to graduate.”

“I ended up in a different batch from hers, so I wasn’t competing with her. Thank goodness. But we were both assigned to the same dormitory. Many Acolytes thought I was getting some serious action with her, but I’d rather make love to an ice sculpture. It was miserable; we were both out to do everything possible to bait the other to attack first—since Apprentices aren’t allowed to kill each other. I learned the art of getting under her skin, but her pranks were… well, they lacked imagination, but were very tiresome to endure. In the end, she blinked first. Attacked me in full view of five Overseers and Darth Jadus himself. And I beat her, despite her ‘cunning ambush.’ Darth Jadus deemed her unfit to be there, but decided her power was too good to waste. He sent her to Blood Temple Academy, to redo the basics. From square one. That pushed her right out of the running to become Baras’ Apprentice. A man named Dri’kill Ba’al ended up getting that position—”

“I remember that guy. He got killed by Vemrin, the next Apprentice Baras chose. Thana was never gonna make it with him.”

“True, but it was a blow for her. Even then, he was considered a sure candidate for the Dark Council. The one she ended up getting, Gravus, is a midlevel Darth in comparison. She never forgave me.”

“Who were your Masters, and what were they like? Umm. Lord Mira first.”

“Darth Shaar,” she replied. “Vowrawn’s Apprentice. She’s almost as colorful as he is. Quite close to him too, so I saw him a lot. It was like Ray had never left.”

Vette laughed. “And what about you, Lord Ray?”

“Darth Occlus. Even as his Apprentice, I could never get a read on that guy. Was he a scholar, an assassin, or a warrior? Was he good, or evil? Was he funny, or was every joke he ever made humorless? He liked to keep everyone guessing. At least he let me have fun every weekend.”

“What qualifies as fun?”

“Don’t ask,” Mira cut in. “Not today, at least.”

“Got it. Ah. The town is over there. Looks like everyone has started to wake up!”

“Best we don’t enter,” Mira advised. “I doubt these people will be happy to see us.”

“Right you are. Come to think of it, what’s our plan of action?”

“I can get my stealth belt from my room and lie in wait for Thana. Which direction is she comin’ from?”

“That way,” Mira pointed south. “She landed… two hours ago, approximately 90 klicks away.”

“Which means she’ll be here in another hour.”

“Even without transportation? Across terrain like that? Damn. You Force-Sensitives are way too lucky for your own good.”

“If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be dominating the upper rungs of the Empire,” Ray pointed out.

“True, that.”

“I can Sense Thana,” Mira said suddenly. “She’s closer than I thought, which means she’s pushing herself.”

“Which means she’ll be tired. Good.”

“I don’t like this,” Vette said. “Like you said, she wasn’t a complete moron. What could she be thinking?”

“Maybe she was injured,” Ray said slowly. “Not her legs, obviously. Maybe something scarred her pretty face. Or she broke her arm in the crash.”

“Either way… she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Okay then. I’d better evacuate the townsfolk. I’ll be back to support you guys once I see her.”

“Wait,” Lord Ray stopped her. “Sync your comm with ours. That way, we can coordinate.”

“Oh. Right, good thinking.”

As Vette stalked away, she heard Mira conversationally ask Ray, “So how long do you plan to keep that clown getup on?”

*

Thana arrived a bit ahead of schedule. She burst out of the thicket and made a beeline for the town square. She leapt on top of the statue and shouted at the top of her lungs.

“HEYYYY! TAIL-HEADS! YOUR NEW QUEEN HAS ARRIVED! I DEMAND YOU GET ME SOME FOOD AND BRANDY! A BATH AND A BED TOO! OR I WILL MAKE YOU ALL SUFFER!” She looked around, blinking uncertainly. “OOOOIIII! IS ANYONE THERE?! NO?! HGRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!”

Mira took a moment to assess her from her vantage point. Thana had grown a little since she’d last seen her all those years ago. She was also looking wilder… and not just because of her long hike. Most of her dirty face was hidden behind a curtain of blood-red hair, but Mira could see madness in her eyes. Her teeth were clenched so tightly together that they were starting to twist in her gums. Most of her body was hidden under a heavy, oversized set of purple robes.

Years of experience told Mira that something strange was going on here.

“IF YOU DON’T COME OUT NOW, I’M GONNA START BURNING HOUSES! TEN… NINE… EIGHT…”

sh*t. Looks like there’s no more time to—

Ray had moved before she could. He leapt out from behind the tree and Tossed a few boulders at her. They struck her right in the shoulders and the small of her back, and she fell with a loud yelp. Mira could Sense her intense pain… but it was fading.

“WHO’S THERE!?” Thana roared. She emerged from the cloud of dust, looking rather less injured than one might be under the circ*mstances. Each step was stronger than the last.

Before she could get too far, Mira flanked her. Her violet blade sprang to life as she stabbed Thana between the shoulder blades. She was stunned when the killing blow bounced off some kind of armor.

Thana zeroed in on her at once. “YOU LITTLE SNEAK!” she roared. She thrust out a palm. Mira was raised into the air by a Force choke. It had crushed through her Defenses like they were butterfly glass, and was proving impossible to break…

Another rock fell on Thana, this time smashing her head.

“OWWWW!” the woman cried.

She stumbled, dropping Mira from her grip. She was bleeding and in pain, but she was very much alive! How? How had she taken such bad hits without dying? If her Shield had been up, she wouldn’t be in such pain!

Thana hurled fistful after fistful of Energy at the trees behind her, flushing Ray out of hiding.

It’s true… she conjures Force Fire instead of Force Lightning!

Confident that whatever Thana was packing wasn’t enough to protect her from injury, Mira launched a stone the size of her fist at Thana’s head before using the Force to Shroud herself again. Thana’s scream was louder and more pained than before.

“I’M GONNA BURN EVERYTHING ON THIS ENTIRE, f*ckING WORLD!” she screeched.

“Hey, Thana!” Ray called her attention back to himself. “Remember me? Neener-neener!” He blew a loud raspberry and made a rude gesture before winking and running away.

“RRAAAAAYDEEEEN!” Thana chased after him without thought, and Mira followed close after.

The rogue Sith closed in on Ray, but when she got close enough, he cheekily tossed a rag at her face; the same one he’d gathered up some cat fur in. Thana didn’t even slow down. Her mistake. She began sneezing loudly and continuously, even stumbling over her own feet as she wasn’t bothering to slow down. About a minute later, she broke out in hives, and her throat started swelling up.

“You’re still falling for all the old tricks, Thana tosser,” Ray grinned. “It doesn’t matter how tough you get, if you still step into every trap. You’re under arrest, by order of Darth Mortis—”

“LOOK OUT, RAY!”

Mira’s warning almost came too late. Thana’s attack this time was a Fireball about a meter and a half in diameter. Ray managed to avoid the ball itself, but it exploded like a moderate-yield grenade.

Mira screamed despite herself. “RAY!”

“I’m fine!” he did not sound fine, but he wasn’t hurt too badly either. “Watch out!”

Mira leapt aside just as an invisible hand several meters across punched the ground she was standing on. The impact was so strong, the crater it left was almost knee-deep at the center. Thana stumbled out of the dust and initiated an ungainly advance in Mira’s direction. Her red Lightsaber burst to life and she slammed blow after surprisingly powerful blow on Mira before she had shaken off the dread. The rogue Sith looked like she was already recovered from the allergic reaction… but that was impossible!

A sticky grenade landed on Thana’s leg, signaling Vette’s entry into the fight. Mira leapt back and drew up a Shield to protect herself from the explosion, small though it was. Thana fell to the ground.

“THIS WAY!” Vette screamed as she began firing on the rogue. Thana took several shots to the chest and shoulders, but whatever armor she wore protected her. Mira cloaked and made a mad dash to Vette’s position. The Twi’lek’s blasters fired patiently, and Thana made quite a loud squeal.

But she seemed to remember how to use her Lightsaber. A few bolts got deflected back in Vette’s general direction, and the Twi’lek stopped firing. Mira managed to team up with both her friends.

“You alright?” Ray asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “You?”

“I got my guard up in time, thanks to your warning. And to think I was the one mocking her for being careless—”

“Right. I don’t blame you this time.”

“What happened to her?” Without the Force to keep her replenished Vette was already gasping from her all-out sprint. “She’s extra crazy and extra clumsy and extra, extra, extra, extra, extra tough!”

“Can’t talk now, she’s almost on us!”

“Don’t worry,” the Twi’lek said confidently. “Follow my lead.” She leapt high over an innocent-looking patch of grass, and both Sith leapt over it. Thana barreled right on top of it, and fell to the bottom of the pitfall trap.

Her shout of surprise grew fainter and fainter, until it ended in a loud splash.

Vette lobbed in another grenade after her—a flashbang, going by that shape—then shouted, “Cover the opening! Umm. Please, my Lords!”

The Sith complied, hastily covering the hole with fallen logs and rocks. The grenade went off with a loud boom.

“There,” Vette panted. “She’s trapped and disoriented. Hope that buys us some time—oh, come on!”

The Force exploded within the hole, forming a wider opening that almost swallowed the Sith and their companion. Ray scooped her up in his arms and took off right before the ground split beneath them.

“RRAYDEEEEEEN!” Thana’s echoing voice emanated from the hole. “RRAAAAYDEEEEEN! I’LL KILL YOU! YOU! YOU STUPID LITTLE INSECT!”

They began running again to give themselves time to think.

“How is she so full of life?” Mira wondered. “She’s just run that long distance from her crash site, and still has enough power to wipe the floor with us!”

“And enough energy to yell like that!” Ray observed. “I know passions boost our strength, but this goes beyond that. She didn’t have this kind of strength five days ago! It’s insane!"

“Maybe she ate a ghost or two?” Vette suggested. The girl was shaking very hard.

“What do you mean?”

“I once met this guy called Hekaten. He was powerful before, but Thanaton chose to start a war with him. Since he was outmatched, Hekaten learned how to eat ghosts. Add their strengths to his!”

“I heard about this man…” Mira said. “Lord Kallig. I thought it was just a rumor.”

“Well, I’ve seen the man. I’ve not actually seen him eat a ghost, but I’ve heard him talk about—and to—them. Kairegane mentioned how his power level leapt from plateau to plateau, like he was using another power source. I don’t know much about it myself.”

“Whatever the particulars, that sounds like a ritual,” Ray said. “And they don’t suit a Sith like Thana. She doesn’t have too wide a skillset beyond what she was taught in the academy. She just polished it until she was a strong warrior.”

“No, but her power source definitely feels external,” Mira said. “But I’ve got two other big questions. How is she healing so quickly, and what sort of armor is she wearing, that lets her repel a Lightsaber attack?”

“RRAYDEN!”

“She’s gaining on us!”

“I’m glad she doesn’t remember me yet,” Mira said.

“I’m gonna cloak now,” Vette said. “I’ll have your backs—waaaaah!”

“VETTE!”

Thana Pulled the lively Twi’lek, readying her Lightsaber to skewer her on arrival—Vette managed three perfect shots in midair. One hit the rogue Sith in the mouth, the other her eye. Her blade didn’t end Vette’s life, but there was no stopping her momentum. She collided with a tree trunk, and slid to the floor.

Thana’s wrath was bubbling. Mira knew that she would finish Vette before turning back to them. Ray knew that too, it seemed. He reached Thana a second before she did, and began a furious assault. He aimed his strikes at the one place he knew wasn’t armored: her face.

Mira followed suit, attempting to damage Thana’s good eye. Or decapitate her outright, if that was possible. But Thana’s defenses were good enough to keep her head on.

*

Vette tried raising her blaster, but her hands were shaking too hard. She couldn’t move her legs, and her whole body ached.

She’s winning, she thought. She can’t win! Anyone who wore her clown getup with the grace Ray did, deserved to live. But there was nothing Vette could do.

Her breathing started to get faster from frustration, but then she noticed a buzzing sound.

My commlink!

“Hello!”

“There you are!” It was Jaesa. “We’ve been trying to reach you! What happened? Are you safe? Are the townspeople? What’s happening?”

“Deep trouble,” Vette gasped. “It’s Thana Vesh. That angry pigeon from Taris. Only, she’s not a pigeon anymore, but she’s… like ten times as angry. And unbeatable! We need help, please!”

“Hold on! You’ll be getting it shortly!”

“Vette, this is Jasme,” another voice said urgently. “You said this ‘Thana Vesh’ is unbeatable. What’s happening over there? Can you describe it?”

“She ran all-out for hours, and isn’t tired. She’s fighting two Sith—two very strong Sith—and winning. One of them stabbed her in the back, but her Lightsaber bounced off some sort of armor! And… and… the other one hit her with several big rocks. Really hit her. I saw the blood. But she healed. She healed, I swear it!”

“I believe you,” Jasme said firmly. “Look closely at Thana, if you can. Does she look… bigger, somehow? Like… like muscles or… I dunno. Rolls of fat?”

Vette rolled over painfully to look closer.

“And if you can look through the burns and tears… do you see anything? Anything different?”

Sure enough, she saw something, through the many holes and burns caused by those Lightsaber attacks. “Sort of… they’re… brownish green shells of some kind. They’re like… like…”

“Like chitin? Insect shells?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“I know what you’re dealing with. And how to beat them. Do you have a plasma grenade on you? Or at least, an Ion one?”

*

Rrayden’s strength was flagging. He was astonished. He’d never imagined Thana had gotten good enough to take on both him and Mirabelle at the same time! And although her Force Shield was flimsy, her defenses were more than capable of handling Lightsaber strikes. She was able to take whatever the pair threw at her, and dish it right back at them.

She may have forgotten subtlety, but her blade was still fast enough to deflect Mira’s occasional Force Lightning. It looked like surprise was the only way that would hit.

And defending against her Force powers was sapping their reserves rapidly. And while they were able to avoid her Lightsaber itself, they both took several blows from her fists and feet. They were no longer able to keep up with her seemingly limitless energy.

Mira fell on one knee after a particularly heavy power strike, then took a kick to her chest. But before Thana could finish her, Vette breathed a single phrase into their open comm channel. “Jump back!”

Both Sith complied. Half a heartbeat later, another grenade landed on top of her. This was an ion one, and it was apparently enough to shock her in her tracks.

“Now!” Vette coughed. “Run away, before she recovers!”

“We’re not leaving you,” Ray said firmly, making a dash for the downed Twi’lek.

“Idiot! This won’t keep her out for long!”

“Did you just call a Sith an idiot? I’m going to get you out of here, so I can punish you later!”

“I’ll keep her stunned,” Mira spoke into the channel. “Run!”

Mira poured Force Lightning at the immobile Sith, who screamed in agony—but broke free. She somehow managed a Shield that was strong enough to Repulse not just the attack, but Ray and Mira as well.

“Dammit,” Mira gasped. “I’m too low on stamina… sorry, Ray. Sorry, Vette. It was nice meeting you.”

Ray couldn’t move. He was laying up against a heavy tree trunk. He was injured. Not too badly… but he was done. “I’m sorry too, guys. If only… if only… if only…”

But before he lost all hope, he Sensed a ripple in the Force. Something fell from the sky, landing right beside Thana.

What was that? A meteorite? Could we be that lucky?

There was a loud crack like thunder… continuous thunder… and he knew the answer was very different. A Sith Lord! But who…?

“VETTE! VETTE!”

The dust cleared suddenly, Pushed back by the Force to reveal a tall, horned humanoid in black-red armor. Her neck-length hair was bright red.

*

Kairegane knew which one her enemy was at once. It was as Jasme had said; ‘Attack the angriest one there. Don’t let her breathe, don’t give her a chance to block your powers. If you give her time to react, you will lose. And Vette will die.'

Under ordinary circ*mstances, Kairegane would have scoffed at employing such cowardly methods, but it seemed Vette’s life was where she drew the line. On Jasme’s instructions, she loosed her strongest Force Storm on the pyromaniac, allowing it to ravage her body for twenty seconds before amping down the voltage.

She blinked. Even shielded, her eyes always went white for a few seconds after putting out this much Lightning. “VETTE!” she called. “VETTE!” She used the Force to clear the dust out of the air. The first thing she saw was a young man with dark brown hair, looking at her in disbelief and relief. She nodded once hastily, then activated her comms. “Thana’s down. No hostiles around, but injured friendlies. I need medics over here. Now!”

Once that was done, she continued searching for her friend. “There you are!” she ran up to the small Twi’lek, who was sprawled on the floor, face to one side.

She began rolling Vette over gently, but wasn’t sure if she should move her at all. She stood and dusted herself off. She waited until the shuttle had landed, and the medics headed her direction, before making her way to the man. He’d stood by now, as had another woman—a blonde. Lady Kai raised a hand in greeting. “Hello there. How badly hurt are you?”

“Just winded,” the woman replied. The man just put on a clown’s nose and squeaked it.

Kairegane was so caught off guard she fell over laughing once the shock had worn off. “THAT IS PRICELESS!” she roared, hammering a fist against the ground.

“Easy, Tiarna. Sorry; my partner has no sense of time and place!”

“ARE YOU KIDDING?” Lady Kai wheezed. “As if he could’ve picked a better time! That was glorious, sir! Glorious!”

The man grinned and bowed. “Glad you liked it, Tiarna. I can’t let a good joke go to waste. Vette gave me this, by the way.”

“Of course she did!” Lady Kai was starting to regain control. She stood back up, brushing tears out of her eyes. “Oh my goodness! I wasn’t expecting such a good laugh!” She took a few deep breaths, then beckoned them over. “Come. I have something to show you. You need a mystery solved.”

Both of them hobbled over to where Thana’s smoking body lay. Not a corpse yet—she still moaned pathetically every now and then. Once they were close enough, Lady Kai pulled off what was left of her robes. “See these?” She asked, tapping at the shells sitting tightly on the criminal’s skin. Most of them were black as sin after the barbecue, but some on her legs still appeared halfway healthy.

“Ugh… what are they?”

“These things are called ‘Orbalisks,’” she answered. “They’re a rare parasite found on Onderon’s moon. They latch on only to Force Sensitives, and feed off the Dark Side. They force their victims to go nearly berserk with rage by feeding chemicals into their blood. Allowing them to go beyond their usual capabilities so they can feed on it, in turn. In return… well…” Kai ignited her blade and cut off Thana’s leg right above a surviving Orbalisk. The gap began to close before her blade was even free. She struck again, this time at the Orbalisk itself, and her Lightsaber bounced off. “According to my comrade, however, they do have on critical weakness. Even a little electricity can stun them. A high dose will kill them outright. Brace yourselves, please.” She fired off a concentrated beam of Lightning at the surviving Orbalisks, killing them instantly. “As if that wasn’t enough, apparently, a dying Orbalisk injects a toxin into the bloodstream. Difficult to counteract, except for the most skilled of Jedi healers. Thana is as good as dead.”

“That explains everything,” the woman breathed. “Her power was completely beyond what we’d known her capable of. She was a different person today.”

“I’ll say… she even shook off the effects of an allergic reaction!”

“You’re lucky and skilled to have survived such a prolonged encounter with her despite starting off on the backfoot like that. I don’t think I’d have fared so well.”

“You’re too modest, Tiarna,” the woman said. “You’ve a reputation as the Empire’s deadliest warrior, after all… Excuse me. We didn’t introduce ourselves. My name is Mirabelle Travvor.”

“And I’m Rrayden Scorn. About Vette…”

“She’ll live,” Jasme said, approaching the trio. She was trembling, fear giving way to relief. “You got here just in time. Even a couple of seconds later—”

“Maybe, but it was your knowledge that allowed me to win. Without you, I’d have been attacking her with my usual approach. I’d be dead too.”

“Glad I could help. I’m going to head back with Vette. Just thought I’d give you the heads-up.”

“Vette’s ship is back in town,” Mira said hesitantly.

“I’ll take it back. Jazz, look for all the key’s Vette’s carrying.”

“Kay.”

“What about you two? Are you in need of medical attention?”

“No, Tiarna. We need to get the body back to Darth Mortis. And word of this… Orbalisk.”

“Those things are dangerous,” Rrayden said. “They grant us a power boost, but sap reason and intelligence. We need to exterminate them.”

“Yes, we do. I’ll inform Marr, Thanaton, and Acharon. That’ll ensure that no one gets any bright ideas.”

“Good idea, Tiarna.”

“Excuse me, my lord,” Jaesa came running up to her. She had Vette’s belt in her hand. “Vette just gave me everything. She also asked us to see if any townsfolk were hurt. She said she got them to scatter before Thana got here.”

“Yes. I’ll lead the relief efforts myself. Lords Mirabelle, Rrayden: do you require any other assistance? A box for Vesh’s body, for instance?”

“Thank you, Tiarna. I think we can make it. We should leave at once.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Umm. Tiarna,” Rrayden said hesitantly. “About Vette…”

“Consider this a permanent invitation. You’re both welcome to Kouhaush Muin anytime. You can visit Vette whenever you choose. I can even place you both under my direct employ, should you choose.”

“Respectfully… no,” Mirabelle said, looking regretful. “I’m fond of my Master. And her Master.”

“You don’t need to lock it down,” Kairegane grinned. “You can contact me if ever the time comes.”

“Thank you, Dark Lord.”

“Come along, Apprentice,” Kairegane said, pulling Jaesa along. “Let’s make sure the entire town knows what a brave little hero Vette was! Maybe we can persuade them to rename their town in her honor!”

*

Korriban

Rrayden and Mirabelle both stood straight once their report was concluded. Thanaton and Acharon stepped forward eagerly to examine Thana’s corpse, as well as the dead insects that still clung to her flesh. Acharon pulled several out—using the Force, as he was cautious of getting any closer than he could help—and put it in a box he’d prepared beforehand.

“Thana Vesh was a known hothead,” Thanaton said. “But she seemed to have gone insane on Dxun. We all wondered why. It’s good that we have an explanation for her… uncommonly erratic behavior.”

“You have served us well,” Mortis said, giving them a rare smile. “The Tiarna gave glowing recommendations to both of you when she notified us about the Orbalisks.”

“You have both proven your mettle,” Marr said in his usual, soft voice. “You are worthy of reaching for greater heights.”

“You are both granted the titles of ‘Darth,’” Vowrawn beamed. “Darth Rrayden, and Darth Mirabelle. Congratulations on your promotions!”

Both bowed. “Thank you, my Lords!” they said together.

“You may leave us,” Marr commanded. “You’ve both earned some well-deserved rest. You may be sure we will call upon you again in a few weeks.”

Once they left, Mira asked Ray the question that she seemed to be struggling with his entire time. “You’re going to take the Tiarna up on her offer, aren’t you?”

“No… no. I honestly… there’s something else on my mind.”

“Out with it, then.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this, I just never thought we’d make Darth so quickly. I want to build a shared power base with you, semi-independent of the others.”

“You want to what now?”

“We’ve always followed our own path. Since we were children. I want it to continue for as long as we can manage it.”

“And what do we do with this… ‘shared power base?’”

“I don’t have a long-term plan, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “But whatever I do, I want to do it with you as my comrade. As for the Tiarna… I’d like to maintain an alliance with her. She seemed fun.”

“She did, didn’t she? But she’s not what caught your eye. I hope you don’t wear that clown nose again for some time.”

“Not in public, anyway. This is just between Vette and me. And our friends.”

“Vette was nice. And she’s on your wavelength. If you want a shot with her, I wish you the best.”

“I hope you’re not talking like this isn’t your problem. You’re going to be there to watch the fireworks.”

“Whatever you say. So, about this new ‘power base’ that you want to build with me. Did you have anything in mind, or—”

“Make it up as we go?”

“Make it up as we go.”

“Unless you have a plan?”

“Sort of.” She flashed him a winning smile. “I’ve been thinking about this too, but I wanted it to be your idea. Let’s start with the Tiarna, while she’s still happy with us. Her support will give us a new bunch of options right off the bat!”

“I like the sound of that! Let’s get going.”

*

Chapter 36: The Pale Woman

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

*

9 ATC

Mercy Tanniels—Cipher Nine—approached the shadowy throne, her every footstep forced by a foreign will.

Step by reluctant step, she approached the figure lurking in the shadows as if it felt naked without it. She knew who was sitting there, knew it because she’d been chasing this man for years.

“Did you not hear me?” Darth Jadus’ voice was soft and unruffled as ever. “I said come closer.”

“I… am…” Mercy’s teeth were gritted.

“Ah. How foolish of me. Keyword: Onomatophobia.”

“Keyword acknowledged. Awaiting… input…”

“Come kneel at my feet… right this instant.”

Mercy complied posthaste.

“Keyword: Onomatophobia. Say, ‘It is my humblest honor to serve Darth Jadus.’”

“It… is… my… humbl… est…”

“Say it in under five seconds.”

“It’s my humblest honor to serve Darth Jadus!”

“Yes. It is an honor for the weak to be of any use at all to the strong. Keyword: Onomatophobia. Press your forehead on the floor.” He placed his feet carefully on the back of her head, pushing it into the hard ground. “Do you like it down there?”

“I… will… kill… you.”

“No, you won’t. You cannot kill anyone who commands your body for you. Keyword: Onomatophobia. Rise and walk to the terminal. Insert your half of the code. Activate the sequence. Then join me in front of the main screen.”

Mercy was fairly certain she could resist this order in the real world, but in this nightmare, her fears ruled. She did exactly what Jadus had ordered. As she neared the screen, she saw feeds from all across the galaxy. Dromund Kaas, Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa… and so many, many worlds. The Eradicators had been activated.

They fell into the cities like meteorite showers, and unleashed their deadly contents into the atmosphere. People began dying at once. A mechanical voice began reporting death tolls.

“I once offered you a chance to help me remake the Empire and the galaxy,” Jadus said. “You refused me. This is your punishment. By your hand, the galaxy dies. It was unwise to earn my hatred.”

Millions… tens of millions… billions… everyone, everywhere.

This isn’t real, Mercy told herself. It’s just a dream again. Jadus can’t hurt me. Not right now, anyway. He’s not doing this… we’re safe, the galaxy’s safe, there’s no massacre happening…

But despite her best efforts, she could not stay strong. The nightmare… and that word… so much power!

No, she told herself. I refuse to let this continue! I need to break free… I need to break free… I need to… free… free…

“Set me free,” she muttered. “Set me free… The… shall—”

“—SET ME FREE!” she shouted as she woke up at last. She sat in her bed, gasping and sweating. Her sheets were soaked through with sweat.

After consuming a whole cannister of water to replenish the lost fluids, she hit her comm. “Housekeeping. I need new sheets please.” She left her quarters. Kaliyo Djannis was in the lounge, gulping down what looked like half a liquor store. Mercy let her smile widen, masking yet broadcasting her contempt for whoever it was that thought it was a good idea to attach an anarchist terrorist to one of the Empire’s most secret agents. “Kaliyo.”

“Agent. Another bad night?”

“Nope. The best. I love my dreams, and they love me. Waking up is a bitch.”

“Nice. Good thing I didn’t wake you then. You just got an urgent summons from Darth Marr himself.”

“When?”

“Less than a minute ago.”

“I see.”

“Want me to come with?”

“You want to visit Darth Marr? He’s not very hospitable. I can drop you off at the cantina though.”

“They’re not very fun, either.”

“They’ll have more booze than I do.”

“You’ve got a point.”

When Mercy entered the fresher to wash up, she saw in the mirror, a woman with a pale face, and tired, red-rimmed eyes. Her true face.

A moment of wild panic, as she wondered if she’d destroyed her holodisguise implant somehow… and if Kaliyo had happened to see it too.

“No, she didn’t,” her reflection said.

“Huh?”

“Kaliyo didn’t see this. Your implant is just fine, and still in place. This is a result of your brain damage.”

“From the brainwashing? Lovely.”

“From that, yes. And from resisting it. From learning to rebel, in your own, small way.”

“I take what victories I can get.”

“Yes. I’m glad you saw fit to not throw that away. It’s all falling apart, Mercy. We need…”

“We need wha—” A blinding ache in the base of her skull radiated throughout her spine. She couldn’t even scream. She started to lose consciousness. Before she could pass out completely, she managed to reach the alarm—as the door was too far away.

She passed out right as Doctor Eckard Lokin came scrambling out of the infirmary.

“Cipher!” he shouted. “Cipher!”

“Hold on,” came Vector’s calmer voice. “We’ve got you.”

*

Darth Marr was not used to visiting the people he needed to meet. If it wasn’t possible to summon them, he used comms. But this was too important to trust in the security of a comm channel. And the Cipher’s ship had to be at least as protected as his office, so he didn’t mind making the journey over.

“Welcome aboard, Darth Marr,” the balding doctor he’d spoken to bowed deferentially. “I’d apologize for the Cipher’s inability to greet you, but if she were capable of doing so, we would be meeting in your office, as requested.”

“We are honored by your presence,” said the man with black eyes. His mind felt like a multitude… or a swarm. This was the diplomat who had Joined a Kilik hive, then. But he didn’t concern Marr right now as much as the unassuming physician.

“I think you treated me once before,” the Dark Lord addressed him. “When I was a younger man. I see rumors of your… forced retirement were unfounded. It is well that Intelligence’s finest has secured a doctor as skilled as you.”

The man’s face remained smooth, but Marr could hear the gears turning in his head. “I’m flattered you remember me, Dark Lord. I’m but a humble physician now, rather than the idealist of my younger days.”

“Age rarely allows ideals to thrive, does it? What’s the Cipher’s status?”

“Unclear, Dark Lord. She has been under tremendous strain lately, and…” he looked around to ensure that those who were listening were trustworthy. “Her health has never been the best, if you don’t mind my saying so. I worry she’s finally crumpling under her many burdens.”

“That’s a shame. Perhaps she can be allowed to retire soon. But for now, I have urgent need to consult with her.”

“Of course, Dark Lord.”

Not that a lowly Acolyte couldn’t have figured that out, Marr thought as he was led to the Med Bay. Just in case, he conducted a scan for all espionage devices before addressing the Cipher, who was barely awake.

“Greetings, Cipher. I’m sorry for the state you’re in, right now. Undoubtedly, you do not wish for anyone to see you when you’re ill. But time is short, and my mission urgent. I apologize for dropping the niceties. Keyword: Onomatophobia. Engage Thesh Protocol, phase point oh-five.”

“Limited Thesh Protocol engaged. Awaiting input.” Groggy a mere moment ago, the Agent had sat bolt upright. Her eyes were intent on Marr. Her coy smile, which had been a slight curve of her lips when she was out, was back in place.

So she even wears that smile in her sleep, does she? Come to think of it, she was even smiling when she stood before the Emperor. Perhaps it’s an attempt to hide whatever it is that afflicts her. “I have come to talk about your top-secret assignment following Vajra Devarath.”

“Higher clearance needed. Code check: Faydenzcreech.”

“Response: Limitless Esoterica.”

“Clearance accepted. Full access granted.”

There. He now had five minutes. “The Council grows wary of Devarath. We have hatched a plan to kill him. But… it’s not going well. It appears we will need to play our very last card. I need to know that we can slay him.” He laid out the plans as briefly as he could. The trap on the Balmorran mountain range, the forced battles he’d been fighting for weeks now. The armies they’d thrown against him, only to see them dissolve. “They’re down to their reserves now. They can’t win. I will be entering the fray myself, alongside Darth Malgus. We will take Darths Zhomez, Skaithe, and Hollow with us, backed up Elite Marauders, a clan of Mandalorians, and Black Ops Vode. But after he survived this much… I need to know. Is this enough to slay Devarath?”

The spy snorted, then burst into outright laughter. Marr was staggered by the overt derision.

“Cipher Nine? Contain yourself, and answer my question.”

“Your forces can wound him if he’s too tired to stand,” she responded, laughter halting immediately. “But once the surprise has worn off—and the adrenaline has kicked in—he will crush you, and destroy all of your forces.”

The utter certainty in her voice gave Marr pause. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

“You need the Lord Wrath. Or Tiarna Kaimeryn, and her most elite division of Legionnaires.”

“Neither are available to us.”

“Then you must call it off. You can’t beat him with this.”

No. No, it can’t be. She must be mistaken… Marr had made a mistake coming to see her. He had been shaken by Vajra’s performance, but reports were clear that his stamina—an astonishing reservoir beyond what he’d imagined—was flagging. There was no way he could beat either of the great lords in his condition, much less the both of them.

Marr had come here to allay his misgivings. He’d expected reassurance that this was brutal overkill. This was… no. The Cipher was clearly not thinking straight.

“I am grateful for the candor and advice, Cipher Nine. Keyword: Onomatophobia. Engage Peaceful Sleep protocol.” That would ensure that all her memories of this conversation were locked away without the highest clearance.

“Peaceful sleep protocol engaged.” She slipped back into her cot as soon as she’d finished speaking.

Marr sighed, then placed the blankets around her shoulders. “Rest well, Cipher Nine. I will forgive you, this once, since you are obviously unwell. I am still grateful to you for your service. Rest well.”

As he approached the exit, Agent Lokin hurried to see him off.

“Thank you, doctor. Unfortunately, it didn’t pay off. But I had to try.”

“I understand, Dark Lord.”

“The best I can say, is that she’s none the worse. She’s sleeping now. I’ll leave her in your capable hands.”

“Thank you, Dark Lord.”

*

In her dream, Cipher Nine watched the galaxy decay. But the scene winked out, and the pale woman took Jadus’ place.

“I hope you noticed. Marr knew your keyword.”

“What a naughty boy!”

“It’s a shame we can’t recall what he wanted from us, but our suspicions have been proven.”

“That’s right,” Mercy growled. “It wasn’t the SIS that brainwashed me. It was the Empire. The Council!”

“Yes. The Republic is only using what the Empire put in your mind.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“It means the Dark Council was upset that we were strong enough to defy one of their number.”

“If only they knew.”

“That’s more trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

The pale woman snorted. “Of course, you realize that this has a bright side.”

“It does?”

“Yes. If Imperial scientists know how to brainwash you, they know how to reverse the process.”

“If they really do have that information, it’s as classified as it gets. It’ll be stored in their deep servers, either at Korriban, the Citadel, or Imperial Intelligence.”

“Yes. But there’s no other alternative. If Kothe has our keyword, it’s sitting in a file for any SIS agent to read it too. And if they got their grubby mitts on it, others might have, as well. Worst case scenario—”

“Jadus really does have it too,” Mercy finished.

“Exactly. We don’t want him using this weapon against us the next time we see him.”

“Yes. I’m convinced. I’m going to go to the office. Right away. Can you wake me up?”

“No. Be rational about this. You’re so unwell you couldn’t even go to see Marr.”

“That was then. This is for me. For us. For our freedom.”

“Rest now, so you can work without fainting later.”

“I can do it!”

“No, you can’t. You’re being reckless.” The woman sighed. “Come to think of it, impetuosity was a trait imbedded in you, wasn’t it? Our caution was locked away inside me.”

Mercy didn’t like the way the woman had put it. It made her sound… like a false personality. Which she was, she supposed. Through a combination of hypnosis by their mentor, and Self-Suggestion by the woman herself, a new personality had been created; and the old, locked away.

“I’m sorry. You are no less real than I am.”

“A little less, I would say.”

“Perhaps at first, but you’ve been here for years now. Perhaps… no. There’s no sense in talking about this.”

“About what?”

“I’m giving you back some of the attributes that were sealed away. I trust you will be able to hide the changes.”

“I will.”

“Good.” The woman sat down to meditate. A coniferous forest emerged out of the pitch.

“Is this Alderaan?”

“Yes. Get some rest and recreation. Walk around if you like, or sleep. I’ll keep you safe from our nightmares.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Meditate. Self-Hypnosis. Do not disturb me. You will wake when I’ve given you what you need.”

“Got it. Say, I wonder if there’s something else you can do with self-hypnosis?”

“What’s that?”

“Can we hide any information of our choice from our SIS friends? Or perhaps, change the tone of our response to be a bit more sarcastic? It’s clear the brainwashing has some holes in it.”

“It might be possible, but dangerous. I’ll maintain this space in our head—”

“Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

“—so visit me in your sleep when you have information you want to keep secret. And I didn’t, because I couldn’t. Why do you think you’ve never seen me before? I was in a cold, dark place, deep inside our psyche. Sleeping, most of the time. The damage to your nervous system has shaken my personality loose, to this degree. But don’t worry; I’m not in danger of taking over. I still need your say-so to do that.”

“I’m not worried, to be honest. Despite the demarcation in our mind, you’re me. I trust you’ll do what’s best for both of us. Hey, can I swim?” She pointed at a clear stream.

“Of course. You deserve the break. Go on.”

*

Mercy Tanniels began playing a very dangerous game with everyone. The SIS, Hunter, the Sith, Imperial Intelligence.

Even a single misstep, and all sides would throw her to the wolves. But what was the point of being the good soldier, anyway? Her own organization had utterly betrayed her. She’d once suspected there might be consequences for defying a Dark Council member, but never had she believed they would go this far!

And to think, the Minister of Intelligence—the previous Keeper—had gone along with it, however reluctantly! While she didn’t blame him, she’d come to realize that anyone from Intelligence would double cross her, if the order came from high enough.

She was left shattered; the only glue holding her psyche together was the desire to break free, and punish Kothe and Hunter.

For now, she followed their orders to the letter… in a mildly different script of course. Her own version of it. She couldn’t truly disobey a command until she’d broken the restraints, but she could interpret them her own way to avoid compromising the Empire. Or herself.

But she did find a few allies, some in unexpected places. And to these few people, she owed her sanity.

Codename ‘Chance’ was one of these individuals. The idealistic young lad had gone through great pains to ensure she was comfortable, and only ever tried using her keyword to save himself from a sticky end as a Rakghoul, which she couldn’t blame him for. Or to end the cruel, sad*stic orders given by Codenam Hunter.

Another ally she was grateful for was Doctor Lokin, who went above and beyond to treat her when she was ill. He understood something of what she was going through—it was possible he’d received some of this treatment himself, after all.

Vector helped too, of course, but she could never fully trust someone who had a backdoor in his head. Anything she told him—or anything he witnessed—would end up common knowledge in the nest he was Joined with. Still, it was comforting to know he was watching her back.

But perhaps the one she was most grateful for was Vajra. He arrived out of nowhere on Quesh, and just in the nick of time, too. She had never been saved quite like this either, so she was left feeling all warm and fuzzy. Even the pale woman was affected by his compassion.

He had nursed her back to health personally, staying close to her as she convalesced. He had helped her with everything; from using the fresher, changing her sheets and clothes, feeding her when she was too weak to sit up, and even did things like wiping her brow and face on particularly bad bouts of sickness. He was there for her, in a way no one had been before.

He had consumed a good amount of his premium medical stock to treat her failing brain, too. It was only when she was fully recovered again, did she realize just how close she’d been to becoming a complete vegetable. How far she had deteriorated.

What an ignominious end that would have been! A Cipher rarely got a kind close to their tales—and truthfully, Mercy didn’t know that she deserved one—but coming so close to losing the one thing she’d always prided herself on, her cunning, was something that had shaken her.

And the Jedi had given her a few other somethings as well: someone she could trust absolutely.
She could share a lot of the insecurities and turmoils she’d kept bottled up inside, and he was a phenomenally good listener.
She’d harbored a lot of pent-up emotion, mostly frustration and hurt; and she had felt safe enough to cry on his shoulder. He didn’t make her feel weak. Indeed, he marveled at her strength, for being able to put up with so much nonsense in the first place.
And she slept more fitfully than she had since she’d left to join the academy.

In short, he had helped her find some of that peace the Jedi were so fond of. It was far more alluring than she’d expected, enough to harbor thoughts of switching sides, some day. Or finding her own way, being truly free.

On her last night before the departure, the pale woman had a determined look on her face. “Can you feel it? The serum is working well. Bonding to spinal fluid, retracing neural pathways. Its course is unpredictable, but it’s nearly done. For now, the SIS is waiting. They won’t recognize your chance to escape when it comes. But I will. Good luck to us both, and may the Force serve us well.”

She left his ship once she was well again, feeling better rested than she had in ages. She was almost ready to turn the tables on Kothe and his associates.

*

Mercy got the call she’d been waiting for the day after she’d parted ways with Vajra. It was Hunter, of course.

“Legate. How’s Quesh, compared to Hoth? Find any pretty Ensigns?”

“I thought I’d miss the snow, but this atmosphere is a step up. Excellent for your skin.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself? Fine. Suit yourself.” His eyes glittered nastily. “Hunter to deck. Everyone report in.”

“Saber in position,” a pretty Twi’lek said. “Good to see you, Legate.”

A droid spoke next. “Codename Wheel ready for operations.”

Last to check in was the man himself. Ardun Kothe. “And I’ll be in position shortly. It’s good to see everyone in one place. Too many solo ops these days. We’re now here for the most important job we’ve ever done: we’re here for a weapon. One that could stop this war.”

“What sort of weapon are we talking about here?”

“Over a decade ago, Colonel Omas of Republic Spec Forces, assembled a team of scientists led by Doctor Nasan Godera to develop a weapon capable of turning back the Imperial threat. A Shadow Arsenal. Cloaked missiles with a tremendous yield. Undetectable, capable of reducing the enemy to radioactive rubble.”

WHAT? Despite her alarm, Mercy managed to merely look surprised. “So you’re setting yourself up as a Jadus part two. Why do I always get the crazies?”

“It’s not meant to be used, merely to force the Sith to surrender. On our terms this time.”

You’re awfully naïve, aren’t you? “I take it this ‘Shadow Arsenal’ was stowed away here, on Quesh?”

“That it was. Omas died on Hoth, and his work assumed lost. But Godera sealed it away in a fit of conscience. He wiped all records of its existence.”

“That’s why you’ve all been running around the galaxy,” Kothe said. “There are two hundred missiles in the Shadow Arsenal.” He’d interrupted Saber as she’d started to recount what her search had yielded. “It will only take one to destroy Kaas city. The Sith will have no choice but to surrender. The missiles are still inside the manufacturing complex. Two square kilometers of factories and tunnels.”

“I’ll come in with the shuttle once we’re ready to move the Arsenal.”

Hunter began handing out assignments. “Saber, take out the main batteries. Wheel, see what you can do with the computer. Legate, you’ll penetrate the structure at these coordinates. Bypass the droid guards and lower the shields for our shuttle.”

“Sure thing. Stay in touch: I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

*

Mercy shot the last droid guard in between the armored plates before walking over to the terminal. A dozen droids lay sparking behind her, but she was breathing hard.

“Legate here. The shields are down. The shuttle is clear to land.”

“And Saber did her part,” Kothe’s relief was evident. “We’ll have the Shadow Arsenal on board and headed for Republic space within the hour. You’re going to hold position here. Protect the controls until we’re gone. Once we leave, return to Imperial space. Shore up your contacts, wait for further orders. We’ll be in touch shortly. This is goodbye for now. Hold position. Keyword: Onomatophobia. And thank you.”

“He didn’t waste any time, did he? Drops you the moment your usefulness has come to an end.” The pale woman had appeared again. She looked even more tired than before. “Smart. Pragmatic. If it wasn’t you he was double crossing for the fiftieth time, I’d be feeling a little impressed.”

“What now? Surely, we’re ready for the rewriting to begin?”

“No. According to the schematics, those serums need at least another day to finish rewriting your neural pathways. Cleansing your brain. It isn’t finished, but it will have to do.”

“Then begin the reprogramming. New commands, new keywords, no outside control.”

“What happens afterwards?”

“If we don’t turn into a vegetable, we’ll stop Kothe. Get our hands on Hunter.”

“Of course.”

The pale woman looked conflicted. “I suppose it’s time I crawled back inside for good.”

“No. No, I will need you. There’s a reason we hid you away, not destroyed you. Don’t you remember that?”

“It was always our hope for me to re-emerge one day,” the pale one nodded. “To become our true face again.”

“You always were the true face. That’s why I smile all the time. ‘Cipher Nine’ and all of her aliases are just one big joke. I can’t wait for the day where I shed this skin and become you for good.”

“When will that day come?”

“As soon as I destroy Hunter.”

“If we’re lucky, that day is today. Thesh protocol, phase one. New keyword: Iconoclasm.”

“Keyword accepted. Thesh protocol engaged.”

“Now you have access. You can force your mind and body to obey a new program. Tell me what you want.”

She remembered the final edict of the Raudra. “I want complete control of my soul. Of my destiny. No one can ever touch my free will, ever again! I want to be stronger, faster, and more resilient to pain. And finally, make my body heal faster, age slower. Let’s call it, making up for lost time and health.”

“Freedom. The ultimate goal.” The pale woman smiled. “Embed total freedom commands. Embed rapid recovery command. Embed limit break commands. Keyword accepted from users only. Accept no outside orders.”

“Total freedom embedded,” Mercy intoned. “Recovery protocol embedded. Limit break protocol embedded. Accepting no further orders.”

“There: you’re free now. Find out how the SIS got your keywords in the first place. There’s more at work here than we’re aware of, more than just one spymaster’s bumbling. Secrets; knowledge; truths. We need to know.”

“Yes. Yes, we do But first, I need to kill Kothe.”

“What about Hunter?”

“He gets to live. Isn’t that nice?”

*

The Twi’lek codenamed Saber was getting desperate. Wheel was knocked out, and needed several crucial components replaced. Was possibly approaching the point of no repair.

She was down for another ammo clip. These droids were nasty! Who thought it was a good idea to give them such thick armor? You needed more than seven shots just to take one down! Or get lucky, and fire a shot in a gap!

“Weakness found!” Wheel exclaimed, startling Saber. He wasn’t knocked out after all… but he was too damaged to move. “There’s a console over in that room. That should have the master control to shut down all defenses!”

“That’s my Wheel for ya!” she kissed the droid’s vocabulator. “Now… if only I could get there myself…blast! Real pity we don’t have Legate.”

“Mistress. If you can prop me up, I can provide cover fire.”

“Not with those optics.”

“You are going to die at this rate.”

No joke! The droids just kept on coming! And aside from being well trained, they were well programmed too! She wasn’t getting in any more shots now…

There was a sound of power generators being shut down. One by one, lights started going out too. Saber noticed the droids looking around, but they couldn’t spot the threat. Another minute passed, and something began diving in and out of the shadows, stabbing at the droids’ necks with a hot vibroblade. Saber followed the path of destruction to the control chamber Wheel had indicated. Moments later, the droids stopped dead. Legate emerged from the room, casually decapitating the passive droids. She tossed a smile over at Saber and started to jog over. Saber was nonplussed; she raised her rifle defensively, but failed to fire.

“Why, hello there, Saber. You’re pointing a blaster at me. I believe the right thing to do is thank me and ask me if I want to take you right here.”

“Thank you,” Saber said fervently. “But I don’t swing that way.”

“Yes, I was only joking. I’m not into abusers either. Ask me why I’m here. Use my key phrase.”

A chill ran down Saber’s spine. “Keyword: Onomatophobia. Tell me why you’re here.”

The Cipher slapped her blaster out of her hands and pinned her against the wall. “I’m here because you and your team have been abusing my trust and my brainwashing.”

Saber whined. The bladepoint pressed against the back of her neck was enough to buy her silence. A single ion charge fried Wheel’s circuits. “You’re a dirty Imp scum after all!?”

“Who cares about Imps or Pubs? No, this is purely about my keyword. And all the sh*t you and your team did to me.”

The Twi’lek stiffened. There was something else being pressed into her neck next to the blade… a syringe! It began working on her at once, making her very drowsy and inebriated.

“How did you get it? The keyword, I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Saber whimpered. “Kothe just had it, alright?”

“Waste of a good truth serum. Did you know they made this at a Republic base right here on Quesh? I wish I could disperse ironic justice on all of you, but something tells me I might not get the chance. Goodbye, Saber.”

*

Ardun Kothe failed yet again. He slammed the console in frustration. “Blast it!” He turned when the door behind him opened.

“Legate? I thought I Sensed you approaching. Why are you here?”

“Saber called for my help. She was about to die.”

“Why didn’t I hear it? Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s dead alright. You could have saved her, if you hadn’t locked me up hundreds of meters away. Perhaps.”

“I… I see. It seems I have no choice then. Keyword: Onomatophobia. Help me slice this console.”

“Sure thing. Slicing is my specialty.”

It only registered at the last second that that was not the standard response, not even in her sarcastic tone. He ducked aside just in time; the vibroblade stabbed his cape and shirt, but not his skin.

Her smile… there was something different there this time. It wasn’t mocking. It was the most dangerous and vindictive of promises.

“Do you have any idea how I’ve suffered?” she demanded. “At Hunter’s hands especially, but yours as well! Spitting out that keyword every ten minutes like you’re a tabacc addict! The strain that put on my brain… there’s a reason why Chance and Saber get to live, but you will die.”

“So you didn’t kill Saber?”

“She’s alive. Knocked out though. Sorry about the lie. Like I said, she was nice to me too.”

“I’m sorry. I needed a Cipher-level defector right when I got you. It seemed too good to be true.”

“And my keyword? How did you know about it?”

“Hunter procured them for me, along with news of your defection. He’s the reason you’re here.”

“As I suspected,” the other spy sneered. “You don’t have the skills to find stuff out by yourself.”

“Hunter is better at this than I am.”

“And I’m better than him. And now, I’m going to stop the plot to bomb innocent Kaasi citizens.”

“I am not going to bomb them! This is intended as a deterrent!”

“I don’t care about your intentions, Kothe. It’s them that concern me. The ones who gave Hunter and you my keywords.”

“You’re delusional. This is my operation. I’m in command here, not Hunter.”

“Poor, foolish little Jedi, believing that you can’t lose control of a situation just because you set it in motion. You’re nothing more than Hunter’s puppet.”

Kothe staggered. “How do you know I’m a Jedi?”

“I’m very good at my work. I found your records in the Tython archive.”

“You were on Tython?”

“Not for you. I just happened upon your name while there. The Jedi Archives are such a lovely place to spend half your life in! Never know what you’ll find.”

Kothe snorted. “I guess there’s no erasing yourself from History.”

“Oh, it’s certainly possible. You just need to be more thorough. And use skills that you lack.”

“I suppose I should reintroduce myself then. You’ve met Ardun Kothe, the SIS chief… now meet Ardun Kothe, former Jedi Knight who couldn’t live up to the code.” He detached the scopes from his rifle and pointed it straight at the Cipher.

“What a stupid hiding place,” she taunted him. “Any blaster enthusiast would have known that wasn’t a real scope.”

“Good thing I didn’t take it out much. My work was rarely in the field. Surrender. End this.”

“Not until I’ve made you pay for what you did to me. And don’t talk about greater good or something like that! You stood by while Hunter fantasized about how he was looking forward to raping me!”

“I—” He realized there was no more room to talk. He had been out of this game for over a decade now, he was no blademaster. He needed to end this quickly. He used Force Push to knock her back, but she evaded it and fired three blasts at him. As he deflected it, he heard the clatter of something at his feet. Without thinking, he dashed out of his position and went straight for her. She cartwheeled out of the way, dropping another explosive on the ground. He managed to Push it out of the way, except it didn’t go off. Nor did the one from earlier. Was she toying with him?

She fired a stream of plasma at him; his Lightsaber shook in his hands from the impact, but he marched forward. He tripped on a metal box and fell. A mine?

Whatever it was, it was no explosive. Poison? Must be! And it was potent! He was already losing control of his body! He felt his muscles seizing up and going rigid, stretching out painfully and his bones rattling in his sockets. His head arched back until it was almost ready to pop off. What poison was this? If he knew what was being used, perhaps he could counter it!

The constant twitching of his muscles was as infuriating as it was painful. He mumbled words he didn’t quite mean to, or even understand.

“Not nice, is it? Watching your body dance like a puppet on strings; without any semblance of control?”

The voice was very different from Legate’s. Much less teasing, much sultrier, a little deeper, and more business-like. A little taut.

His throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe. His muscles were convulsing and tightening really hard now, hard enough that he felt his ribs creak and give. A whimpering but muted yelp escaped his clamped throat. He coughed up copious amounts of blood, his ribs having crushed his lungs.

“I really wish I could stay, and make you understand just what you’ve put me through. But I have places to be, Hunters to destroy. Goodbye, Kothe.”

He got a good look at her face before he died. Her real face. A pale, blonde woman with tired eyes. There was no smile on this face, only a cold scowl. That uniform did not seem to suit her as well as it had her persona. Pure, icy fury radiated off her like a red-hot bar of iron in the snows of Hoth.

*

Hunter was feeling pretty good about himself. He’d tipped off the bombers about the Shadow Arsenal right after Kothe’s shuttle had landed. But when he’d reached the location Cipher Nine was supposed to be waiting in, he’d found nothing there. Fearing the worst, he’d tried to escape. He made for his shuttle at full speed, and had finally reached the safety of the ship when he felt his knee disintegrate.

“SONOFABITCH!” He fell screaming, pawing the spot where his leg now ended in a stump. “f*ck! sh*t! DANG IT! M12? M12! I need medical attention, NOW!”

He called up the feed from his external cameras to see if they’d caught anything. And they had; someone had fired an almost impossible shot from so far off that the cam couldn’t even pinpoint it… a sniper… Saber? No! Why would Saber shoot him—of course she didn’t. It was Cipher Nine.

As his droid began patching him up, he got a call on is comm.

“Hello, Hunter,” Nine was smiling, as always. “Sorry about the leg, but it was all I had time to aim at. Your door was just about to close, so I had to go low.”

“YOU STUPID BITCH!”

“Oh, shut up, you stupid, smug little, unwashed, dung-brained oaf! After everything you did to me, you can’t act like I didn’t have just cause for this. Or worse.”

“OH! You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“Cleverer than you, definitely! Whether I’m cleverer than your superiors though—your real superiors, that is, not the SIS you feigned allegiance to—that’s another thing entirely. Can they destroy both sides and step out of the shadows to rule the rubble before I destroy them? Aren’t you just dying to find out?”

“I already know the outcome!” Hunter roared. “I’m on the winning side! You and your Empire, and even the Republic and Jedi and Sith… you’re all going to die. I do hope you survive long enough for me to meet you again. You will know such mindless torment that you will beg me for death, every single day, for the next fifty years! I planned on keeping you, you know! Wandering the galaxy, with you as my servant… but now, eternal suffering for you!”

“Not to worry. I offer you the same fate, stinky. You’d best hope you win… you’re not the only vindictive person in this galaxy. Ta, now!”

With that, she cut off the transmission. Before Hunter could process what had just happened, M12 injected a powerful anesthetic into his veins, so it could begin the surgery. Hunter felt more dread than pain as he blacked out.

*

Chapter 37: A Time to Mourn

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

9 ATC

*

Carrick Station

Havoc Squad was waiting in the briefing room. Their Jedi contact had not been informed of their approach, so he was tied up with some other work right now, so everyone was just passing the time.

Roban and Jorgan were calibrating their weapons, Yuun was working with some new toy, Tanno was looking through his ledger—if there was one surprising thing everyone had learned about him, it was that he was really good with accounts. And of course, Elara was meditating, her necklace in her hand.

Roban didn’t know what that meant. She’d refused to tell him when he’d asked.

The Jedi all but burst into the room. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he apologized. “Something very urgent came up. I’m Jedi Master Gnost Dural.”

All soldiers stood up to salute him, Elara hurriedly tucking the necklace into her breast pocket. “Havoc Squad, reporting for debrief, Sir. I’m Major Roban Queens. My XO, Captain Aric Jorgan, Lieutenant Elara Dorne, Sergeant Yuun, and Sergeant Tanno Vik.”

“Pleasure to meet you all again. You were there when Revan returned to us, though there wasn’t time for introductions back then. My apologies. But I was given to believe you also had a war droid in your squad.”

“M1-4X,” Roban nodded. “He needed some repair. A Sith jumped out at us. He wasn’t someone with a big name, but he was still deadly. 4X attempted a risky maneuver. The only reason it worked was because of his stronger-than-average armor.”

“Lord Brash,” Master Gnost identified him. “He was shaping up to be a shrewd commander for Thanaton. The Republic thanks you for taking him down. Did you happen to see if he had anything on him? A Holocron, or notes—he worked for the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, after all.”

“High Command has instituted a policy to look for such items on downed Sith, Master Jedi,” Elara nodded. “We don’t often get that chance, however. Always some chaos or other. We got lucky this time. He was carrying this.” She offered him a small box.

The Jedi Master looked through it with interest. “Thank you, Lieutenant. This might give us something we can use. Any other impressions from your mission?”

“Yes, Sir.” Roban pulled out his wrist comm and pulled up a few holos he’d taken. “This building here is definitely a bluff. There were a lot of guards, but not the sort you’d put on something really important. This one, on the other hand,” he pointed at another one. “Captain Jorgan noticed a few Black Ops soldiers in plainclothes guarding them.”

“That’s Captain Tosh of Hark Squad,” Jorgan added. “An infamous butcher. Known for killing several younglings during the sacking of Coruscant. And that’s Lieutenant Thornton. She’s… scum. Quite famous, but only in certain circles. Only reason I know them, is because I keep an eye on the priority target list that our snipers are given.”

“And this here is where we ran into Lord Brash.” Roban pointed out. “Fortunately, he didn’t think to call in reinforcements. And we dealt with him quietly. Either he’s out for a stroll, or there’s something of interest in the area.”

“I see. Thank you for your observations, Soldiers. We thank you for your heroism.” The Jedi bowed. “I’ll get SIS on finding out more.” He looked at Elara. “That’s an interesting gemstone you’ve got there.”

She jumped, looking a bit cross at herself. “It was a gift, Sir.”

“I’ve seen that one before. It was unique, very different from others of its kind.” He sounded so sad all of a sudden.

Elara was the first to catch on. “Did something happen, Sir?”

The Kel Dor looked hesitant. “This isn’t common knowledge yet. But the Council is expected to make an announcement in a few days. I suppose we need to ask our best and brightest to step up.”

“Sir?”

“A team of Jedi on an important mission have gone dark. Among them were Tol Braga… and Vajra Devarath. One of our staunchest defenders these past few years has fallen. And we have no way to fill in the gap he left behind.”

All soldiers shared looks of pure horror. “No!” Elara cried. “What—how could this happen!?”

“I’ve seen Jedi Vajra fighting,” Roban added. “We all have.”

“Yeah… he was a real force of nature on the battlefield!” Jorgan rubbed his jaw.

“HOW COULD YOU!?” Elara shrieked. “HOW COULD YOU BE SO RECKLESS WITH HIM?! IS IT ANY WONDER HE DIED, IF YOU KEEP WHIPPING HIM FORWARD LIKE SLAVE DRIVERS?”

“Easy there, Lieutenant,” Jorgan said. He looked stunned at her outburst. Elara was the coolest-headed person they knew.

“Don’t you get it?” Elara rounded on him. “It’s not even been three weeks since he fought Darths Marr and Malgus! And that was after a months-long pitched battle! He was worn out and injured! He lost a hand in that fight, not counting those months of exhaustion! He should’ve been resting for a good two months, at the very least! How could the Council send him out on a mission when he was tired and injured? And he’s not even twenty yet! He’s still quite a young man!”

Roban considered that. He allowed some of his own anger to creep into his voice. “Garza always did say that the Council was going to work him to death. I agree with Lieutenant Dorn, Master Jedi. You and your Council used and abused him.”

“I know.”

“Why?” Elara demanded. “Why was this mission so important that you had to throw him at it, in his state?”

“We made a mistake. We thought we could end the war, once and for all. I cannot tell you more.”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Elara growled. “But you will have to answer to the people of the Republic. He was starting to look like an unbeatable hero. A symbol! Morale will plummet once you make your announcement. I’m not the only one who’d make such a connection. Soon, every person in the Republic will be asking why he’d been on this assignment at all! And that’s not even counting the Empire! They’ve been wary of him since he took down Angral, and he’d just beaten Marr and Malgus! They were sure to be bracing for more losses. But now, they’ll be emboldened!”

“You needn’t worry about that, at least. The Emperor has gotten his hands on a new enforcer. Warpath. We believe that it was him that killed our strike force. And the Emperor had him slay Darth Vengean on a live broadcast. He’s now promising to unleash him on Imperial targets, as well as Republic. According to our spies, their morale has dropped as well.”

“Who is this ‘Warpath?’” Roban asked.

“A Sith who appeared out of nowhere. We think he’s an alchemically enhanced Sith Lord. He killed Vengean so easily that, according to the SIS, few Sith like their chances with him.”

Elara had started to cry while the Master spoke. “So… he’s really dead? Vajra is really dead?”

“We’re certain that he is.”

Roban felt sorry for her. He still hadn’t forgiven Devarath for Taris… and Garza… but he knew Elara was fond of the young man. She’d sought him and his partner out often enough on Balmorra, and corresponded with him. Perhaps that crystal is something he gave her.

“But you are right, of course. Vajra’s death is going to have a huge impact on the Galaxy. Strong winds are blowing pieces unpredictably across the board, and no one knows where they will land. The Republic’s best… now more than ever… needs to be prepared.” He answered his comm. “Right. I’ll be right there. I’m sorry, soldiers. But duty calls, and I am already needed elsewhere. Farewell. And I’m sorry.”

“Elara—”

“I’m fine,” she said after taking a moment to compose herself. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

No one argued with her. She managed to keep her poker face all the way till she was in her room before she started to cry again. This time, without reserve. Roban knew that no one would have the heart to tell her that she’d not engaged the soundproofing.

*

Tython

The air in the Jedi Temple was somber.

Many of the younger Jedi were openly weeping, especially an older Padawan, Fia. She was particularly inconsolable. From what Devel had heard, Vajra had taken it upon himself to bring her news of her brother’s death right before he left. She had taken the news poorly, blaming Vajra for not protecting her brother.

An accusation born of anguish, one which she had immediately felt guilty for voicing once she’d calmed down. But she’d never gotten to apologize.

Acting from passion always leads to pain, Devel thought sadly. This is why a Jedi must remain serene.

But he could not deny the sorrow that he himself felt. Not just for Vajra, of course; but for all the missing Jedi. But Vajra and Kavi Taa were especially hard on him, since they’d been so young. He still remembered Vajra’s many acts of not just courage, but simple, and sometimes everyday compassion. The incident with Fia was a great example. He’d done it despite it not being his duty.

Devel had seen him time and time again helping not just with assaults, but also the little things. Like repairing a broken pump, serving food to soldiers, aiding the wounded. Vajra reminded him of Aryn, in a way. Like her, he was too caring to have true Jedi serenity. But like her, he proved that being a ‘poor Jedi’ didn’t mean you couldn’t be one of the nicest people around.

Many of the people weeping bitter tears in this chamber—from the poor Padawan Fia, to Grand Master Shan herself—were crying for Vajra. The other missing Jedi were of less significance, even Master Braga.

Again, a sign that a good person was far more important than a good Jedi. Perhaps this was what Aryn had been trying to tell him all those years ago. He also started thinking of Zahra. He had let her down too, sending her on missions in his stead. Missions she hadn’t been trained to handle yet. She’d be alive, if he’d just trained her better. She too, had been a kind soul. Vajra had shown her much more regard in their few interactions than he, her Master ever had.

So this is the truth, he thought. What a fool I’ve been.

Lost in his thoughts, and the mourning in the air, Devel didn’t realize the ceremony had started, much less concluded. He was only alerted to the fact by a gentle prodding on his elbow. “Aryn?” he asked in surprise.

“I came as quickly as I could,” she said softly. She had her hood up. She’d changed since they’d last met. The haunted sorrow had left her eyes, leaving her closer to the Aryn of his childhood. But her neck was softer than it used to be; evidence that she’d cut down on her rigorous training. “Come. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

Devel nodded, and led her to his room. Once there, she took off her hood. Her hair was shorter now, and done up in a bun, instead of her customary braid. She sat down on the sofa, pulling him to her side.

“How have you been?” he asked her.

“Life on Dantooine is busy. Owning a vineyard is not as easy as my husband thought it would be. He’s a sweet man, and his daughter is a real pleasure to be around. But we have plenty of droids and farmhands to help us out now. What about you?”

“I—I—”

“This Vajra seems to have meant a lot to you.”

“He was just like you,” Devel blurted out. “He didn’t have your empathic abilities, but he did have your goodness. I—the galaxy remembers him for saving Coruscant and the Jedi. For winning Alderaan and Balmorra. But I—we, all of us who were crying out there—we remember how he helped us with the little things. Everyday things. Helping the younglings go to sleep after a bad day. Helping others with their errands. Making others feel like their feelings were valued. Padawan Fia—”

“You should cry now,” Aryn said softly, as she held him. He took her words as command, and broke down completely. Soon, she was crying too, affected by not just his own grief, but the mood in the Temple. “That’s right, Devel. Let it all out. Weep for the people who will never experience Vajra’s kindness. And weep for Vajra, who should have had a kinder fate. When you’re done, tell me everything you want to say about him.

*

Shortly after Devel had fallen asleep, Aryn decided to head to the cantina for some food. She left after leaving him a note.

Once she’d sat down to wait, she felt someone approach her. Someone with a grief even worse than Devel’s.

“Aryn? Aryn L’neer?”

“Satele Shan.” It was her. And she looked tipsy. “I’d never known you for a drinker.”

“Well… um feel’ng mis’rabil aftr all.” She sat down beside her.

“Is it about Braga?”

Satele snorted. “Braga! That ass! If not for him… if not for him…” she started to weep softly. Her sorrow was almost overpowering. Her guilt.

“Listen, how about I take you to a private booth? The Grand Master shouldn’t be seen in this state—”

“They’ll forgive me,” she wheezed, as Aryn helped her away. “Whaddo they care, anyway? They ignored me. All those times I told them… and they ignored me. And now I’ve lost two!”

“Two?”

“Children. My children.”

This was news to Aryn. “What?” she whispered furiously.

“Jasme, who was taken a year ago. And Vajra, who was sent to his death. Whom I couldn’t save… poor, poor children!”

The first name rang a bell for Aryn. She recalled meeting a tall girl who wouldn’t stop asking questions about history and archaeology. She did look like Satele. But Vajra? No, she’d seen holos of him. He was an alien. He couldn’t be Satele’s.

Maybe she just felt responsible for him? He was Knighted at a young age after all.

“Why’re you ‘ere?” Satele asked drunkenly. Her dignity was on hold for today, it seemed.

“An old friend called. He sounded distraught. I thought I should visit him. He sounded like he needed help.”

“Then um glad you’re here f’r them,” Satele nodded firmly. She hiccupped. “You’re a bedder p’rson than me. You made th’ right choices. I wish I had your strength, Aryn. Maybe… maybe I could’ve pr’tected them both. I could’ve kept th’m out of Revan’s and Braga’s vainglorious hands…” She began sobbing again, her emotions growing so intense that she seemed to forget the whole galaxy.

Aryn reluctantly patted her arm. They’d been friends once, until she’d suddenly rededicated herself to the Order’s precepts. Started to grow dogmatic and rigid without any prior indication whatsoever. After that, Aryn had started to lose some of her regard for the older woman. But after hearing her unload all of her burdens like this, and admit she’d been right all these years, Aryn couldn’t help but feel bad. “Tell me,” she offered Satele reluctantly, once there was a lull in the tears. “If you need someone to talk to, I can listen to you.”

*

Theron knew he’d be dropping out of Hyperspace soon. Shore leave was a fleeting luxury for him, and he usually looked forward to time at home. But he was beset by guilt today.

He never did open up to Vajra, despite meaning to. He kept putting it off, for there were no shortage of excuses.

Right after this assignment. Too much work on his plate. I’m on leave at home now, and I’m away from home far too often to spare a thought to the rest of the galaxy. After this report. I don’t feel like it.

And now, Vajra was dead. Gone. He felt a sorrow that he couldn’t quite let out. It left him numb and listless. His usual habit of keeping an eye out for trouble he could partake in was on hold.

If only I’d had one, honest conversation with him. Talked to him about Satele and Jasme.

Come to think of it, it was much like his excuses for not reaching out to Jasme. He felt like his conscience was drilling holes in his gut right now…

When was the last time he’d talked to his twin sister? Had he ever written her a letter first, or was it always a response? When was the last time he’d written anything beyond three sentences to her?

All this and more gnawed at his heart. Without thinking any further, he pulled out his datapad to correct his error. Better late than never, right?

Dear Jasme
It’s your twin. I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I’m a real jerk, I realize that. I miss you so much. I love you. I want to see you again. Especially given the recent news about Vajra. If it was a blow to me, it’s hit you so hard that you might not be able to see straight.

It might be too little, too late, but I want to be there for you.

You were right. Life’s too short for me to have ignored you all these years. I swear that’ll stop. Please get back to me as soon as you can. I understand the ransoming process has hit a snag, but I’ll move Coruscant and Dromund Kaas to get you back.

Love,

Your Brother.

It was a few hours before he got a reply. It was distressingly small.

I can’t come back. I’m sorry.
Live a good life, Brother. Because I’ve messed mine up beyond all hope of fixing.

I’ll always love you.
Jasme.

Theron blinked. What? What does she mean? What’s wrong with her?

He wished he knew what to do. He felt so… stuck now, stymied by his the block he’d erected with his own two hands and bad decisions.

For once, he didn’t know if home could ease his burdens.

*

Dromund Kaas

“My Lord? Are you alright?”

Hekaten turned to find Ashara standing behind him. “I am not. I have this distinct feeling that that—” he pointed at the screen, which still had a freeze frame of the insane killer called ‘Warpath.’ “—might be pointed at me someday.”

“I expect it will, Apprentice,” Zash spoke from Khem’s mouth. “My condolences. Things seemed to be going so well, for once.” Her voice held no hint of her contrition, and quite a lot of derision. Hekaten wished he could crush her… but doing so meant killing Khem, too.

“The best thing we can do, is stay mobile,” Andronikos suggested. “Keep the ship as our base of operations. We need to do that anyway, since our main enemy is Thanaton. He’ll drive you out of any stronghold you try to maintain on Dromund Kaas or Korriban.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Hekaten looked at his computer again. “And what do we have here? What an interesting little tidbit! Under ordinary circ*mstances, this would be the most sensational news on all airwaves.”

“What do you mean?” Ashara demanded. She still lacked the respect when speaking to her Master.

“Jedi Vajra Devarath has been declared MIA. That’s the one who almost killed Marr and Malgus.”

“WHAT!?” Ashara screamed loudly. “HOW?! WHEN!?”

“How did he die?” Zash asked.

“Unknown right now. Ashara, you were a Jedi. Did you ever meet this… Vajra?”

“I am a Jedi,” she corrected him. “And no. I spent most of my Apprenticeship on Chandrila, Corellia, Dantooine, and Taris. I believe Vajra did visit Taris at some point, but it was when the Enclave was empty. To be honest, he was my role model. I wanted to be a swashbuckling, sword slinging Jedi who made enemies tremble, and allies cheer.”

“Talos, what do you know about him?”

“Little, I’m afraid. I was especially interested in his species, but the xenobiologists I consulted do not know what he is.”

“Andronikos?”

“Why you asking me? And why does it matter, anyway? He’s dead.”

“He’s MIA. Not the same. Besides, I’d really like to know who might have killed him, so I can steer clear of them.”

“The Tiarna comes to mind,” Zash said thoughtfully. “She’s the deadliest being in the Empire, not counting this Warpath.”

“What if it was Warpath who killed him?” Ashara asked.

“Yes… yes, it might have been him. All the more reason to stay away. Your suggestion is a good one, Andronikos. We try to stay with the ship, as much as we can. Zash, try not to stink up the fresher too much.”

“What a thing to say to a lady.”

“We both know you’re no lady. Especially in Khem’s body. Things are going to be tight for a little while. Let’s try our hardest to avoid getting cornered.”

As everyone returned to their tasks, Hekaten couldn’t help but think of Elanna. She must be so distraught right now. Who’d have thought that his prediction came true this soon?

*

Aboard the ‘Scree’

Mark entered the rec room to find his partner looking very pensive. “What you lookin’ at, Kid?”

Mako looked up. “One problem gone, another comes up. Vajra Devarath has been declared MIA. Which means there will be no one contacting us with his bounty.”

“Shame,” Torian said. “It would’ve been high, after what he did to Malgus and Marr. Good bounty. Good hunt.”

“Speak for yourself, Cadera,” Gault shuddered. “I’ve seen Malgus. Anyone who can disarm him when he has Darth friggin Marr for backup, is someone we should avoid if we had an army at our backs.”

“And what’s the bad news?”

“The Emperor hosted a special broadcast. He unveiled his newest weapon. It’s something demented and twisted. Evil. But it killed Darth Vengean like he was a chump. But this thing is apparently going to be set on both Imperial and Republic targets, on the Emperor’s orders. Which means—”

“We might find ourselves on his trail.”

“And he seems more deadly than Vajra. Listen, Mark. Let’s steer clear of this guy, okay? I don’t think any price is enough for a guy like this!”

“I agree,” Gault said. “Fighting him is suicide.”

“We’ve got plenty of other contracts without having to worry about this guy.”

“Thank you,” Mako said fervently.

“Besides which, I’m taking a break. The missus wants a few days with me to discuss a future venture.”

“Good. I think I’ll take this opportunity for a break, too.”

“Want me to go with?” Torian asked. “We can make it a date.”

Mako grinned at him. “Sounds good.”

*

Aboard the ‘Party Crasher,’

Risha entered the Captain’s quarters. Stede was drinking. Again. With a sigh, Risha emptied a pitcher full of water on her head.

Juun Stede sprang up with a yelp. Pushing soggy, pink hair out of her eyes, she said, “Drayen?”

“Stede.”

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled. “Ah’m mourning.”

“I can’t tell. This is you every day.”

“Maybe ah’m mourning ev’ry day.”

“I thought you liked that Jedi. You always guffawed like a racing donkey whenever his name appeared in the news. Shouted, ‘That’s my boy!’ Surely, he deserves a better sendoff.”

“Whaddya want me tuh do?”

“Corso and Bowdaar are attending the wake at the town square. It happens in two hours. Jerre is gonna be there too.”

Stede growled. “Jerre. You drove him away!”

“No, I didn’t. And that’s not the point. If you want to be there too, you need to get sober, and get dressed. You’re loud when you’re drunk, which is always a bad adjective for a mourner.”

“Why duh you care?”

“Because you paid me to. Remember?”

Captain Stede squinted. “Oh.”

“You also paid me to ignore all orders to the contrary.”

“Waste uf fahve ‘undred credits…”

“Up. Get up! Get out there, and say goodbye.”

“Kay.”

“In case you’re wondering, Risha’s asked me to make sure you don’t drink,” Akaavi grumbled. “As a Mandalorian, I couldn’t say no to a suicidally stupid challenge.”

“Ah hate you guys.” Juun pulled both women to her for a hug. Risha returned it with reluctance, Akaavi didn’t at all. “But I love yoo guys. Thank you.”

“You had my back, Captain. I’ll have yours.”

“What she said. Now get moving.”

*

Dromund Kaas

Darth Marr sat back in his chair. He was reviewing the execution of Vengean for the hundredth time today, and had finally admitted to himself that there was nothing to more to be gleaned. Warpath was singularly deadly and vicious.

He suspected that once he’d been properly unleashed, Warpath would embark upon a campaign of terror the likes of which would have left even the infamous Darth Bellicose trembling in awe and fear. Vengean had been one of the Empire’s greatest warriors. If he could be beaten so soundly, his killer was far beyond anyone else in the Empire. Perhaps even the Galaxy.

It was ironic, then, that Devarath was dead. Having fought him with a huge handicap, Marr had some idea what he was capable of. Perhaps, with Tiarna Kaimeryn’s aid, he would have been able to defeat Warpath. At any other time, Marr would have heaved a heavy sigh of relief to know that he’d never have to worry about him.

“Fetch me some dinner,” he ordered an aide. “And some champagne. The strongest we’ve got. I think I need to forget my worries for a few hours.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

Tomorrow, the Empire would have to prepare. For the festivities the Emperor had ordered.

Why? He wondered. Why does my liege demand Imperial blood? Not just upstarts and failures, but common soldiers and civilians? He’s gone mad. Perhaps… perhaps I’ll stand aside. Let Baras do as he pleases. Warpath is just a distraction. A pawn. His master is the real danger; he has the ability to stop him, and instead designs to let him loose. How outrageous! It seems the time is coming when we need to rid ourselves of him for good.

Of course, Vowrawn wouldn’t agree on principle. He had an old grudge with Baras, after all.

Ah… so be it. Let Baras play his games. Whatever will be, will be. Perhaps his machinations will see the end of Warpath.

He snorted when he realized what he’d just thought. So I’m really leaving this to Baras, of all people? What has this galaxy come to!

*

Chapter 38: A Gentleman's Venture

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

10 ATC,
Nar Shaddaa

Skadge was screaming bloody murder. “PLEASE, NO MORE!” the Houk screamed, smashing his own face repeatedly into the ground in abject submission. “I SURRENDER! I WON’T FIGHT YOU NO MORE! JUST… PLEASE—”

“Not so co*cky now, are we, tadpole?” Mark asked coldly. He carefully wiped blood from his hands—not Skadge’s, not yet; this was one of his Nikto cronies—and reached for the rusty machete again. “I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to cross me like this. How did you think it was gonna end?”

“Y-y-y-eah, you’re right! It was a stupid mistake, an idiot mistake!”

“No. Getting my lunch order wrong? That’s a mistake. Trying to kidnap my partners and steal my ship? That’s a declaration of war, and it warrants a painful death sentence. Each.” He brought the knife down on a Klatooinian merc’s hand. The alien screamed loudly. “And as the ringleader, you get to die last. You get to see every one of your crew suffer, and know that there’s nothing you can do, but wait your turn.” He brought the knife down again, more surgically this time, and cut off the alien’s eye, then tongue…

Gault could take it no more. He cleared his throat. “I’m a bit peckish. Mind if I get some grub?”

“Go on. Check up on the kids, while you’re at it.”

“Gladly.” Gault was grateful the Palliduvan had this much courtesy for his teammates, at least. He should’ve left hours ago, but he was too frightened of getting on the Champion’s bad side. Mako would be just fine. Skadge had only managed to slap her once before Gault, Blizz, and Mark had burst in and started shooting up the whole place. With stun bolts, at Mark’s request.

But Torian had had it far worse. He’d been roughed up and frosted on Hoth, and now he’d been beaten to a pulp. He wasn’t in critical condition, though. Blizz had gotten them out sharpish.

Gault tried not to imagine the horrors Mark was inflicting on the Houk and his crew. There were other instruments of torture down there, after all. Stuff he hadn’t used yet.

“What a bother,” he said aloud. He was too shaken to eat, so he went to the hospital to check on Cadera.

*

A few days later, Aboard the Scree

Gault entered the lounge. “Hey, Mark. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Torian will be back on his feet today thanks to the high-grade kolto you acquired for us. And the dental regrowth job. We’re almost ready to move to Voss.”

“Think nothin’ of it.” Gault took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “Listen, Mark. I want out. It’s getting too hot for me these days. Skadge? The GenoHaradan? That massive bounty the Republic put on your head, that has us fighting off hordes of wannabes when we’re sleeping? Working directly for a Sith? It’s too much for me.”

“Got it. I’ll ask Mako to prepare your farewell package for you.”

“My f-f-farewell package?”

“We’ve got a ton of credits in the common locker. You get five million, as per the terms of your contract. In addition to any weapons, armor, or tech in our armory that don’t already belong to someone else.”

Is that all? Gault felt relieved. “I—I appreciate it, buddy. I really do.”

“Don’t mention it. I did say that everyone can walk when they feel like it.” He snorted. “And I don’t blame you. Never thought I’d see the day when I fought for a Sith Lord.”

“Do you think you might come to hate the Jedi, too? For what Jun Seros has done?”

“Seros is a bitch. But every system has a few. I’ll reserve judgement until I see proof that the Jedi Council approved of something really bad.”

“You know, despite your reputation, you’re actually quite a rational, reasonable guy.”

“Food with food, fire with fire.”

“Words to live by. It’s been a pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Likewise.”

It was only after Gault had secured passage offworld that he allowed himself to relax.

*

Vaiken Space Dock

Gault wanted out of the war, but he didn’t mind hanging out in the Empire. It was just as good a place as any to make money. Lots of rich people around here. And unlike in the Republic or Hutt space, there weren’t any outstanding bounties on him.

In fact, he’d already found his next score. He was in the middle of planning, when one of the pieces walked right past his table.

“Um. Excuse me! Excuse me, miss!”

The Twi’lek half turned. “Sorry. Not a waitress.”

“Didn’t think you were. But you know what I did think when I saw you walk past my table?” Gault lowered his voice. “A professional thief.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. ‘Because I just stole your heart?’”

“I’m sorry Miss. I’m not tryin to flirt here. You look like a professional burglar. I saw it in the way you checked out the clientele. The way you walk, like you’re trying to be invisible—”

“Among the xen-nophobic Sith—”

“No, no! A different kind of covert. You’re not afraid…” he trailed off and tried getting back to the point. “Look… Miss… if I noticed you, then you noticed me too. Professionals tend to know each other on sight.”

The Twi’lek sighed. “You’re not wrong there. You’ve got ‘schemer’ written all over your face.”

“Right. Glad you noticed. Are you interested in a score?”

“That depends,” she lowered her voice. “Who are we robbing?”

“Moff Broysc.”

“Ahhh… Broysc again. I have a, um… coworker who just loves him.”

“What’s not to love? The man is an inane, cruel, sad*stic mess… but with a lot of power. And money. That’s what’s keeping him safe from consequences. The moment he loses either—”

“Look, you don’t need to convince me any further. You had me at ‘Broysc.’” The Twi’lek grinned tightly. “You can call me Vette.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Partner. I’m Gault. And now that you’re onboard, I can put away the stupidly complex plan I was working on. I can forge us a few documents, and secure us a neat little mess to distract the guards. You can enter his pleasure yacht through the vents, and cut the security by tampering with the circuits. I’ll lock away all the guards and weapons. Broysc’s vault has a small box full of vintage jewels that he stole. Estimated worth of twenty-seven million credits.”

“Whom did he steal them from?”

“Some family of business owners. Well, technically he killed them and their family first, so stealing is the least of his crimes against them.”

“What a jerk. Is there anything else in that vault worth stealing?”

“Other than a bunch of valuable ores, minerals, gemstones, and works of art? I dunno. We can take a look around, if you want.”

“Yeah, sounds like fun! And what’s our escape plan?”

“The vault has its own docking bay, along with a small skiff we can get rid of later. We’ll need to find a buyer—”

“Don’t worry about our fence. I know someone who’d buy it for the laughs.”

“Ah. This angry coworker of yours?”

“No, my boss. Next question. When do we start?”

*

The plan went off without a hitch. None. Zilch! Gault was so impressed, he considered a permanent partnership with Vette. And no, he’d never once considered abandoning her. He’d learned his lesson after Hylo.

And Mark too, he thought.

“Not so fast,” she grinned. “I’m still workin’ for someone I really like. Maybe call me for your more fun heists, whadya say?”

“Sure thing. So what was that art you grabbed?”

“These?” She hugged a small box full of paintings and statuettes. “These are Twi’lek pieces. Emotional value.”

“The best kind! People pay triple for that.”

“You have no idea.”

“So, I see you’ve set course for… I don’t know where this is, actually.”

“It’s a ship. My boss’. Don’t worry. I have my access codes. I’d take us back to her world, but Lady Kai is out on business nearby. It’s just ten minutes away. For all we know, we might make it before Broysc even realizes we’ve taken all these goodies!”

“That’ll be the day, right?”

Gault was a little concerned when their destination turned out to be a Terminus-class vessel. “Um. Vette? Where are we?”

“This is the Fae Blade. One of the most prestigious Terminus ships in the galaxy.”

“The Fae Blade? But that’s… that’s…” Oh, sh*t. He finally recalled that the Tiarna of House Rooks had a Twi’lek friend called Vette. He’d ignored all news related to House Rooks as they were one faction he didn’t want to mess with. Ever.

Big mistake.

“Relax,” Vette said, perhaps noticing his expression. “She’s fun. Ten credits say she’ll laugh so loud, I’ll need a tcharan checkup.”

They were greeted by a very angry official wearing a Captain’s rank cylinders. “Vette? It really is you, but… why are you in Moff Broysc’s ship? What have you done?”

“This the coworker?”

“Yep.” Vette cleared her throat. “We raided Moff Broysc’s pleasure ship. You were right about him, by the way. He’s a naughty, dirty, pervy old man. I got you a present.” She tossed the officer a datapad.

“What’s this?”

“Your wildest dreams are about to come true. You can apologize for every disapproving look you’ve ever given me now. Then kiss my toes.”

But the officer had raced off. Whatever his thoughts about Vette, he clearly had no problem trusting her word. On his way out, he ran smack into a tall creature with red hair, scales, and wearing a sleeveless, purple tank-top over black trousers and boots. He bounced off of her, almost falling off the floor, bowed furiously several times as he left. The Sith looked amused.

“Hello, Vette. I thought you were out exploring Vaiken today.”

“Explored it. Found something I liked. Found something you’d like as well. Could you buy Broysc’s ship off our hands?” She pointed at the opulent vessel Gault had stolen.

“Did you say—”

“Broysc’s ship, yeah. We boarded his pleasure yacht and stole it.”

A few moments later, during which Gault’s heart forgot to beat, the Tiarna began laughing raucously. “YOU STOLE MOFF BROYSC’S SHIP? And now you want to sell it to me?” She picked up the Twi’lek and kissed the top of her head¹. “Use me as your fence?! The gall! The gall! This is why I love you so much!”

“You can stop rubbing my lekku now.”

“And who’s this?”

“Oh yeah. This is Gault Rennow. The heist was his plan. Fairly well thought out, too. All the more amazing since he came up with it in less time than it takes for me to swipe Mal’s breakfast.”

“Well, it seems I owe you for keeping my little Vette entertained!” The Tiarna said heartily. Her slap on Gault’s shoulders buckled his knees and his back.

“Umm. It was my pleasure.” Gault gulped. “I… I’ve never once thought of stealing from you.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Come with me now, I’ll buy that gaudy little monstrosity off your hands. I’ll have Niamh send someone over for appraisal.”

“My Lord!” the officer came running back in. “My lord!”

“What’s the word, Quinn?”

“It is about Moff Broysc! That… that… bastard! He just sent thousands of soldiers to die horribly, and he’s having the time of his life on his yacht! Some of the things he’s done… he’s beyond even debased, my Lord! He’s been killing anyone and everyone who has something he wants, even if it’s a passing fancy! He’s violating women left and right! Few can say no to him! And the credits he’s pissing away—!”

“Did you know he sent me a marriage proposal a few weeks back?” the Tiarna asked conversationally. There was a disgusted leer on her face. “Of course you do. I told you. Talk about having no shame.”

“I wish to take him down, Tiarna. At once.”

“The ship back there has his access codes,” Vette revealed. “It should be able to dock inside his yacht without raising alarms.”

“Then there’s no time for a fair appraisal, is there?” the Tiarna said. “I’ll give you two million for it. Quinn, take six of my Kage. Kill Broysc, then return.”

“Kill him? A quick end, after everything he’s done?”

“Unless you think you can get him out without too big an alarm. You won’t have a lot of time with him.”

“Yes, Dark Lord. I will leave at once.”

“Now as for you two,” the Tiarna rounded on Gault and Vette. “I’d like nothing more than to hear about your adventure, but I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay here and accept my hospitality, or take a shuttle anywhere in Imperial or neutral space. Keep in mind, this vessel is currently on a military assignment, and certain standards will be maintained.”

“So, where do you wanna go next?” Vette asked Gault.

“That’s easy. Corvus.”

“Corvus, huh? Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure thing.”

*

Corvus

Vette yawned and stretched in the copilot’s chair when Gault woke her up. “Morning.”

“Elo to you too.”

“How much longer till we get there?”

“Thirty minutes. You have enough time to wash up.”

“Thanks. A girl’s gotta look her best when she’s bargaining.”

“Truer words have never been spoken. Maybe you can garner us a good deal.”

“I see you’re calling this ‘us.’ It’s a joint venture, then?”

“Of course it is. But honestly, the split in profits will depend on the work we put in.”

“I got you. Don’t worry, Lady Kai has my back, so I won’t eat too much of your profits. But it will be nice to have another source of income.”

“Yeah. A lesson I’ve learned all too well over the years.”

“So why are we on Corvus?”

“A pair of nobles are setting up shop here. They’ve already laid the foundations for a town, a fortress, small-to-medium industries. The works. And they chose quite a good location too. It’s on a thriving trade route, even though it’s no Hydian Way, or Corellian Run. It’s the only habitable world around for parsecs. In short, it’s got a lot of potential.”

“So what kind of scheme are you cooking up?”

“Several, actually. A five-tier resort chain. One each for the commoners, wealthy, soldiers, athletes, and artists. The first one will provide quality fun for visitors. Swimming pools, dirt tracks, steeds. The second will offer luxury goods and services. The third will provide recreational military obstacle courses, as well as places for off-duty and retired soldiers to holiday at. It will have some of the more pricey stuff, but at discounts for our soldiers. The athlete’s version will have a bunch of facilities and trainers for a wide range of sports. And the art one will be a series of buildings on their own, set up to offer inspiration to everyone from painters to filmmakers.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“My second scheme is to set up a gentlebeings’ café. A place for meet and greet.”

“I’ll be honest. That’s a lot of ambitious schemes. But it requires foot traffic. It could be years before they’re profitable.”

“And that’s the beauty of it.” Gault gave a wide smile. “My final scheme. Advertising for the other ventures. The three combined will put their world on all starmaps.”

Vette whistled. “I’m convinced.”

“Good. Now get prepared. We’re about to meet two very talented Lords.”

*

The Lord greeted Vette like a dear friend. Or a lover. No, with a kiss like that, it was definitely lover.

Damn this girl! First the Tiarna, now Lord Scorn. She got me again!

“Gault Rennow, meet Rrayden Scorn. A Lord of Corvus.”

The Lord’s grin was wide, and more than a touch amused, as if he knew he’d been part of Vette’s little joke. “Pleasure to meet you, Gault. You can call me Ray. Looks like we’re going to be partners.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Gault chuckled nervously. “Yes we are.”

Come to think of it, why is it that none of my little birds caught onto the fact that these enterprising nobles were Sith? I need to fire someone.

*

Months Ago,
Gebroila, Nal Hutta

Life in the city went on as it always had. Everyone kept their heads down, and their noses out of business that did not concern them. Whether it was a loud argument, a full-on brawl, a duel, or even murder, no one wanted to risk interfering in case it impinged on Hutt dealings.

Of course, no one raised a finger to help the current daily in progress.

“THIEF!” the Duros cried, huffing and puffing as he chased after a small being wrapped in head-to-toe, swamp-green wrappings and cloak. This was the third lap they were running around the spaceport marketplace.

“Shut yer trap, goldie-golden!” the runner called back. “This little piece of shiny ain’t yours, anyway!” they waggled a small, metallic statuette over their shoulder.

“IT IS MINE! I PAID FIFTY THOUSAND CREDITS FOR IT!”

“No you didn’t! Whoops!” The runner dropped something and the chaser—who was hot on their tail—stepped on it.

He slipped backwards and fell on his ass. “YEEOOOW!”

The runner spared a moment to point and laugh before jumping into an unmarked speeder with idling engines.

The Duros gave one last cry of ‘THIIIIIIEF! I CURSE YOU AND HATE YOU FOREVER!”

Laughing and jumping and pumping her fists, Vette shouted “YEAAAAH! WOO-HOOO!”

“Got what you were after?”

“Course I did!” Vette launched herself at her getaway driver and kissed him fiercely. “I got you, didn’t I?’

“Stop distracting me!” Rrayden Scorn cried. “We’re about to craaash!”

“No we’re not!” Vette kissed him again before worming her way onto his lap and resting her head against his collarbone. “I know you put this bucket of bolts on autopilot the second we took off!”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Lover boy, I invented and perfect half the gags in the market. Did you get what I asked?”

“I snuck aboard his ship while you had him running circles, and stole the big box. His treasure.”

“You’re the treasure here, muffin. And this ain’t his treasure.” She opened the box and looked inside. “Don’t look like much, do they?”

“A lot of treasures rarely do.”

“You got that right. These are some of the oldest surviving written texts from Ryloth. I have no idea how Cada Bliss got his hands on em. But they’re not his to claim.”

“I hope you don’t mind showing that to Mira before we return it to your home. She loves this kind of thing. And the statuette in your hand?”

“Oh, this?” she carelessly put it on the passenger’s seat. “This is to fund the lavish date I promised you in return for all this. I’ve already got a fence lined up.”

Rrayden Scorn tossed his head back and laughed. “I may be the treasure here, but you’re the precious!” He pulled the Twi’lek in for another longer, more passionate kiss.

*

Hours later,
A seafood restaurant on Sembla

“So this is what you do in your free time?”

“This is what I do, indeed!” Vette agreed. “Rescuing relics of my people, stealing shiny stuff that bad guys don’t deserve, and smooching hunks. That last one is a new hobby, by the way.”

“And picking a good spot for a date, too!” Ray turned his head slightly to look at the rolling, blue waves. “This place is gorgeous!”

“The best in oceanfoods come from here. A hundred different varieties of seaweed and deep-sea ferns. Algae and plankton and stuff. And the fish…! This place is the origin of a lot of the highest-quality, super premium stuff!”

“And the décor is great too, at least in this quaint little town. Whoever they called in as an architect was a genius!”

“According to Jasme, that was a Devaronian who turned out to be a conman named Tyresius Lokai. Despite his shady background, he could do sh*t like this in order to get close to people. He used this resort, and four others, to get close to Darth Skotia. And stole several cutting-edge cybernetic prototypes from his vaults.”

“Damn. I wonder if he’d be willing to work for me.”

“He’s dead though. That famous Bounty Hunter, Mark Fodorn, took him out on Tatooine.”

“Damn. That’s a real shame.”

“Yeah, well. Luck always runs out.”

“So, Jasme told you about this place?”

“Not recently. She’s… gone silent these past few months. Since her best friend died.” And Lady Kai cheated on her. Vette sighed heavily. She felt halfway between sorrow and anger. “I wish there was somethin’ I could do for her. But… what can I do? She’s all closed off now!”

“I know something about being closed off,” Ray advised her. “And it rarely wears off on its own. Whatever you want to do, do it soon.”

“Right. I’m sorry, now’s not the time to talk about someone else, is it?”

“Why isn’t it? She seems to be pretty important to you, and therefore, talking about her lets me know you better. So long as we don’t talk about our exes.”

Vette snorted, thinking about her only ex. “Deal.” She skewered a piece of fish on her fork and twirled some noodles around it before plopping it into her mouth. “So you mentioned earlier that you were looking for good talent. Why’s that?”

“We—me and Mira that is. We’re setting up a new home. We want a place away from our parents. My parents are xenophobic, stereotypical Imperials. Hers are into micromanaging.”

“And you’re choosing Corvus as your new home, in an effort to escape? That place is… kinda out of the way!”

“It is. But that’s not just to escape family. It’s to escape the brunt of the war too. Against the Republic, and against other Sith. From Corvus, we can choose whom, when, and where to fight. Not to mention how. And eventually, we’ll be forgotten. To a good degree. Fighting is good, but we don’t want to get rubbed raw unless it’s a scrap we want to be in.”

“I think I get it. I think I get you.”

“Tiarna Kaimeryn… she’s too powerful to boss around. Her domain could be right next to Dromund Kaas, and she’d still not be bullied around like regular Sith. We need some distance.”

“I like that. What kinda place do you see for a gal like me, in your new paradise?”

“What kind of role do you see for yourself, in my paradise?”

“I dunno,” Vette admitted. “I’m a sneak and a thief. Lady Kai finds a lot of uses for me as a spy, sabat…sabot…uer, prankster and irregular. But I don’t get much use around her castle except as a professional best friend.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Jaesa told me you’re good at giving orders too, when the Tiarna isn’t available. She said you’re also good at seeing through deception. Or picking out the important stuff in a large, crowded room.”

“She said that?” Vette felt proud of herself, and happy that her friends talked her up when she wasn’t looking. “Well… I, um. Lady Kai has kept her territory out of the war so far, but she’s personally waded into it often. So I am quite useful. But not in a peaceful setup such as you’ve discovered for yourself.”

He eyed her carefully. “Peaceful doesn’t mean legit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we want to set up a place with limited connections to the underground. Smuggling. Espionage. Assassination.”

Vette eyed him uncertainly. “You want to be a crime boss?”

Ray laughed. “No. I want to employ a few.”

*

Present Day,
Corvus

Gault’s cup trembled in his hands. Vette looked at him guiltily. She’d told him she’d assumed he already knew that Lords Scorn and Travvor were Sith, since he seemed to be quite well-informed. Not that he blamed her. Both those names were known to him, as old Imperial but Forceblind families. He’d just made the faulty assumption himself.

“So… you’re Gault Rennow?” Lord Scorn had a decidedly scorn-less, genuine smile on his face. “This lovely young woman is Mirabelle Travvor. We co-own this paradise.”

The young human woman politely smiled and inclined her neck to one side in greeting. As she did, her fringe brushed against her eyebrow, exposing her ear and neck. The effect was subtly seductive, though Gault didn’t think she’d intended it that way. Not in this case, at least. These two lords were used to negotiations and diplomacy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rennow,” she said. “I understand you have a proposition for us.”

“Yes, I think we can get down to business,” Lord Scorn said heartily. “Over lunch.”

“Of course, of course. Full disclosure: I’m a con-artist who wants to go legit. I want you to know that beforehand, from my mouth.”

“Is there a reason you want to go legit?” Lord Scorn enquired.

“Well, I… to be honest,” Gault didn’t want to be, but he’d learned a few lessons from Mark. Also, he didn’t want to get caught lying to Sith. “When I heard of what you’re setting up here, I saw the potential. This world is well-poised to become a bustling center of trade and recreation. That means money to be made. And… I want to make a lot of money. But on the flip side, I can make you a lot of money.”

“The one thing I didn’t hear in your explanation is a desire to leave that life behind,” Lord Travvor noted.

“But that’s alright,” Lord Scorn leaned forward. “We’re not just looking to set up a fully respectable operation here, either. We want to allow a few underworld hubs to crop up here. Under our control, of course. We want a network of smugglers, hired muscle, spies, saboteurs, and even assassins.”

“Which makes this the perfect place for someone like us,” Vette piped up. “I have to admit, I went to Vaiken looking for someone like you. I’m a good infiltrator and lieutenant, but this kind of scheme needs a master planner.”

“Wait… so all this time, I thought I was scouting you, you were scouting me?” Gault was impressed.

“Kinda,” Vette blushed. “I wouldn’t have picked you first. You kinda intimidate me. I was looking for ‘good,’ not ‘the best on the market.’”

“I suppose I understand that.”

“But having worked with you, and knowing your reasons for coming here to Corvus, I think I couldn’ta found us a better partner.”

“Yes,” Lord Scorn agreed. “Believe it or not, I trust Vette’s judgement to the point that her quick introduction was enough to sell me.”

“And me,” Lord Travvor added. “You should know, however. Our legitimate businesses are not to be a sham. We want fully functional facilities here. That is why you’ve piqued my interest. You’re someone who wants to give the going-legit thing a proper try.”

“I understand completely, my Lord.”

“Furthermore, you may address us as Ray and Mira now that we’re partners,” Lord Travvor added. “And drop the formal tones in private.”

“Got it.”

“Before we get to what you already have in mind, I’d like to talk about what we’d like to see,” Ray said. “So that you can fit it into your overall plan. Mira loves libraries and museums. She’s a patron of, and enjoys creating art herself. As for me, I love fencing, horse-riding, and surfing.”

Surfing, eh? Gault smiled wide. “As it happens, I’ve got you covered already. I think you’re gonna like my plans. I hope my skills will leave us all satisfied and rich.”

*

Chapter 39: Nox Venit

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

10 ATC,
Korriban

The satellites didn’t even pause to check their clearance. They just waved them through, which was strange at the best of times.

“And here I thought Thanaton would want to delay us as much as he could,” Andronikos commented.

“Do you think he’s already secured the Council’s cooperation?” Talos Drellik asked.

“No,” said Zash. “The Kaggath is not something you can convince the Dark Council to interfere in.”

“Well, that’s what I thought too, but surely! Given the times, maybe the Council would prefer unity—”

“Something else is wrong,” Hekaten interrupted. “There are far too many ships in orbit.”

“I think that’s the Gae Bolg,” Andronikos mumbled. “That entire force there is painted with Rooks colors.”

“I think you’re right! Do you think the Tiarna invaded Korriban?” Zash said, sounding awed.

“Looks like it,” Hekaten muttered. “She’s made our job easy then.”

“Don’t be too overconfident. You exhausted yourself on Corellia.”

“That was then. Now my blood has been replenished, my tattoos redrawn. And the only enemy I’ll be facing today is Thanaton.”

“We stand with you, My Lord.”

“Yes. You shall conquer your enemies this day.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence Ashara. Xalek.”

*

Hekaten could Sense something terribly charged in the atmosphere. An air of anxiety that was all but trying to choke him.

There was one Rooks shuttle on the ground, but the Dracogriffs were on their way out.

All around them, acolytes, slaves, guards, and regulars gawked at the legendary warriors. They ignored him and his entourage completely. Even the Dark Honor Guard looked cowed. One of their number, the Captain, was dead at the threshold. But not a single person moved to shift his body, as if it had been cursed.

“The Tiarna is a bad enemy to make,” Hekaten said softly.

“Luckily, she doesn’t bestow her grudge on people often.”

“Yes. And watch it, Zash. You don’t want to give away the game now. It would spoil the fun.”

They entered the Dark Council Chambers—Akahte, Andronikos, Zash, Xalek, and Talos—and she had a distinct impression that everyone was just sitting there waiting for her.

“So… we meet again, Hekaten. Or ‘Lord Kallig’ if you prefer,” Marr’s voice was a whisper that no one could miss on a battlefield. “Interesting. You’ve grown. Faster than I’d expected.”

“Welcome,” said Darth Vowrawn. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“You have?”

“Indeed. It was heralded by no less than the Emperor himself.”

“I’d cover my mouth and nose if I were you,” Marr advised him. “Baras’ execution was messy.”

“If only someone had thought to tell me earlier. No doubt the message was waylaid. One final act of pettiness, eh, Thanaton?”

“Do not flatter yourself, slave! You are a thorn in our side, nothing more!” Thanaton burst out.

“Am not. Who struck whom first? You did. You attempted to kill me, without provocation… oh wait, ‘my very existence is provocation,’ right? You’ve been hounding my every step for years! If anyone’s the thorn, it’s you, Thornaton!”

Darths Ravage and Vowrawn snickered. Thanaton glared at them. “His former Master was corrupt! He is corrupt! Without tradition, we are nothing!”

“And what are you suggesting we do about it?” Marr asked.

“You know what the situation requires,” Thanaton pressed. “Order needs to be maintained. Punishment meted out. Unity restored. If we are to conquer our enemies, the Council must stand together.”

“And we will,” Marr assured him. “We shall stand with the victor, as our Master commanded. Kill him, or die trying. But do so quickly. We have a war to run.”

“You know as well as I do, that these things require the proper rites,” Thanaton hissed.

“Are you talking about the Kaggath?” Ravage was still amused. “It is but a playground game. Murder has no rules.”

“How dare you! That’s sacrilegious! The Kaggath is a time-honored tradition! Tulak Hord participated! Marka Ragnos! Ludo Kressh!”

“Is running and demanding aid from the Dark Council a time-honored tradition as well?” Hekaten asked. Thanaton glared, but didn’t have anything to say to that.

“The question stands!” Marr overrode his speech. “Why has this Lord proved impossible for you to kill?”

“Because I beat him at his own game.” Hekaten made sure to extra sneer when he said that. “When I was still learning, he was unwilling to sully his hands. And now, I’ve outgrown him. I’ve mopped the floor with his wiry head on three different occasions so far, and he only escaped because his allies got in the way. Died so he could flee with his skirts hitched. I’m ready to end this. I want to move on. I have better things to do in life than swatting aside the attentions and grasping, liver spotted, skeletal hands of a lecherous old man!”

“I am your superior! A member of the Dark Council! And I am not old!”

“You are not my superior. Not since you invoked the Kaggath. You named me your equal when you did that, then raised me above you when you fled. For someone who loves spouting the rules, you sure forget them whenever convenient.”

“You insolent little worm!”

“I swear, if you don’t silence Thanaton, I will,” Ravage told Hekaten.

“If I’m going to support anyone, it’s Lord Kallig,” Decimus growled. “I’ve seen him fight. If I had to choose between a world without you, and a world without him, I’d take his side a thousand times! You’re lucky we’re staying out of this.”

Thanaton was done. “I will not be betrayed, I will not die. And when I have killed this slave, you will all answer for it.”

*

Thanaton was afraid, but even more fearful was he to admit it. This slave had delved into forbidden, abominable arts in his bid to match his power level to Thanaton’s. But more than that, he was crafty and resourceful, and had a knack for living through events he shouldn’t have. Found solutions to problems that he should have succumbed to.

But more than fear, he was enraged. A deep, bubbling anger the likes of which bubbled in the acid pools of Dathomir.

He used the fear to invoke one powerful Force attack after another. Lightning, Throws, Chokes, Pulls, and Crushes.

At first, he felt like he was evenly matched with the Twi’lek, who had to leap aside to avoid his attacks, whose responses weren’t too hard to counteract. At one point, their Lightning collided halfway between them, with no clear victor in the exchange. At another, he managed to capture the slave in a whirling, sparking, electric tornado.

But he broke free. Thanaton was pushed back.

Ghosts appeared around him, over a half-dozen of them, all with glowing, molten eyes. Going by the complete lack of reactions, Thanaton was certain that his colleagues couldn’t see them. This was a show the slave had reserved for him.

The shades screamed and vanished, dissolving with pitiful whimpers. Swirling vortexes of sparks and vapor zoomed into the slave, and his powers seemed to multiply each time. He smiled, as if he’d grown mid-battle. His power… it was great, too great! It was comparable now, to Darth Jadus’! No… greater!

Thanaton began attacking again with greater urgency, but the slave slapped the attacks aside with the tiniest, laziest gestures, as if what he was swatting were less than flies.

“YOU DON’T GET TO TREAT ME LIKE A BUG!” Thanaton roared.

“Said every bug in existence. And slaves too. Yet nothing stops the mighty from squashing the weak.”

“DO NOT LECTURE ME, SLAVE!”

The Twi’lek caught three separate balls of Lightning, and one lance. They began to orbit him like he was the center of their worlds. “You keep saying that word, but you’re the one bowing.”

“What?” And indeed, Thanaton was on his hands and knees. He shouted with indignation and rose. He charged up a psychic attack. It was dangerous to use techniques that took a charge time in a one-on-one duel, but the slave seemed content to play a passive role for now. He unleashed a furious Nightmare from his own skull, his memory of meeting the Emperor for the first time. That raw presence was the sort to trip anyone on their first exposure, no matter their strength—

But it was reflected. This time, it was not on a shield, which would only have dissipated the attack. No, it charged right back at Thanaton, striking him in the gut like his former Master’s fist. The sensory overload of fear, awe, and rapture were born from him, which was perhaps why they were amplified tenfold when they struck him.

He did not know what noise he made, or how long he stood staring off into space, but he fell to the ground eventually. He was breathing so hard that his lungs ached. His vision was blurry and his ears ringing. He was sweating so much that a puddle had formed around his palms. And he trembled like a foal before a deadly hurricane.

He noticed Ravage address the slave. “Why did you stop me from finishing him? And why end the spell? That was all but checkmate!”

“Because I’m not done with him, of course. After all that he’s done to me, all these years of harassment, it’s an insult if he were to just roll over and die like this. Thanny-boy! Pudding? Have you returned to your senses yet?”

Thanaton screamed in rage. That was unwise. His body wasn’t ready for such an injudicious use of energy, and collapsed. Ravage laughed sneeringly.

“You will regret your arrogance, slave!” Thanaton began charging up another spell.

“Thanaton, are you too stupid to realize this? Every time you call me ‘slave,’ you demean yourself, whose failures to beat me are legendary in their hilarity. And you demean this august gathering of your equals too… a real slap in their faces. Which is a bad idea after what the Tiarna has done as well.”

Thanaton, the Head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, was keeper of secrets far beyond any Sith… not counting the Emperor, of course. He was a Master of the Dark Side itself. Could bend it to his will in ways these fools—especially this one—didn’t understand. He forced the Dark Side to manifest itself as a homunculus roughly the size of his face.

The entire chamber was bathed in near-pitch black, broken only by the Lightning attacks that still orbited the alien. The homunculus roared and charged at his enemy, but it got reflected right back on Thanaton.

The Dark Lord blinked. No mere Shield could do this! How had he…

That’s not a Shield! That’s an Aegis Mirror! How complex must it be to reflect the Dark Familiar?

Thanaton screamed as his own dark creation leapt into the air and stabbed at his chest. It inserted itself into his body through the pinprick of a wound it had made. He felt his insides come afire with black flames that did not burn, but tortured. Chaos reigned within his body, his own internal organs turning against him. He felt his shoulders and right buttock bubble and sizzle like overheated oil, then turned to see the shoulder turn into something like black, smoky ink. It vanished, and his arm fell onto the floor.

I… I am Darth Thanaton! Dark Lord of the Sith! Member of the Dark Council! I will not… I will not… “I… yield…” the admission left his lips like a thief slinking empty-handed out of a grand ball.

“No you don’t.” The slave snapped his fingers and the spell ended. Thanaton tried to stand, but his body… his body… he was critically wounded. He could feel organs slowly turning into mush. There was no recovering from this… all he had were a few minutes before he died. He was quite a mess. Even if he were to survive, all he had left was the bitter humiliation of having groveled in the Council chambers. He trembled with shame and rage and hate.

So be it. Revenge it is.

Thanaton’s eyes took in his opponent’s body. Tattoos. This charlatan was famous for using prefabricated, ready-to-trigger Rituals inked onto his skin—why had he forgotten that? Undoubtedly, the Mirror had been a one-time protection invoked by ritual. And of course, the robes he chose to wear covered every inch of his skin. There was no way to tell if he had one Mirror left, or none. The only tattoo he could see…

“Do you really think I’d show off my markings?” The Twi’lek smiled. “If you see these disappear, then…” he giggled darkly, indicating the ones on his cheek. “It’s almost a shame it didn’t come to that. What’s wrong, Thanaton? Surely, you have one last trick you’d like to play before you ingloriously fart out of existence.”

Thanaton’s throat made a noise between a growl and a whimper. He summoned his energies for one last play—Black Lightning. But it failed. He was too weak, too weak… He tried Regular Force Lightning. Luckily, that still worked… for all the good it did. The upstart deflected it, and the one that followed.

He tried to lock him in a whirlwind again, but he broke free. Thanaton poured as much life as he had remaining into one, last Lightning attack, but … but…

The air currents around the slave swirled and crackled. His earlier attacks left their orbit and formed a bubble around him, through which Thanaton’s attacks could not reach. The slave reached out a hand, and the shield became a long, electric whip coiled around his hand. He attacked, and the whip cracked against Thanaton’s skull. The Great Dark Lord was hurled against the opposite side of the room, tiny explosions running up his bloodstream. Tiny needles stabbed at his skin.

“It… it can’t be… I can’t be…”

He slid down to the floor and crawled towards the door. He was an even bigger mess now. It dawned on him that he was trying to escape, pointless though that was. Shadows fell over him, and he turned. Marr, Vowrawn, Mortis, and Ravage stood behind him. “I’m sorry, Thanaton,” said Mortis. He made a twisting movement with his right hand, and Thanaton felt his neck snapped around.

He was dead… but the humiliation session had stopped, at least. He’d never stood a chance.

*

“You really needn’t have done that,” Hekaten smiled at the aging human. “He would have died on his own.”

“You are a vicious man, youngster. You truly wanted to prolong his suffering, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t that my due?”

“Your due does not take precedence over the Council’s time,” Ravage sneered. “Still… good riddance to him.”

“He was a better Sith than you realize, Ravage.” Marr sounded like he was defending Thanaton.

“Let us hope his successor is as worthy,” Mortis approached Hekaten and gestured to one of the thrones. “My Lord: your seat.”

“You can’t do this!” Ravage sputtered. “He’s just a Lord!”

“Silence, Ravage!” Marr barked. “He has earned his place!”

“He just defeated a Dark Councilor in fair combat,” Vowrawn added. “What else would you expect?”

“I am truly honored, my Lords. Unsurprised, perhaps, but honored. As you say, there was only one path open after this victory.”

“Lord Hekaten,” Marr intoned. “We of the Dark Council recognize your power and knowledge of the Dark Side. Over your career, you have shown an attunement to the Dark Side that few Sith ever witness… let alone attain. And today, you contended with Thanaton’s most powerful techniques like they were nothing at all. In honor of this command, I hereby grant you the title of Darth… Nox. You are now the head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, the warden of our Order’s secrets and teachings.”

“Thank you, Dark Lord.” Hekaten took his seat, and others sat down as well.

“You now sit among us as our equal,” Vowrawn spoke. “Only the Emperor stands above us, and only the Ebon Princes stand outside our purview.” He co*cked his head and snorted. “Ebon Prince. Singular. The rest are dead.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I wish we could return our focus to the war, but everything’s in chaos right now.” Marr sighed heavily. “Tiarna Kaimeryn assaulted all of our holdings and seized our badges of office. A terrifying show of dominance, if ever there was one. Not that I blame her. By the Emperor’s decree, we asked for it, by allowing Baras to slay the Ebon Princes. We need to adjourn, so we may assess the damage that has been done to our strongholds and forces. And… to our prestige. We also need to petition for the return of the tokens.” He snorted, and the other Councilors looked down at the floor dejectedly. “Take this time to rally your own supporters, Nox. You will receive your next summons hours before our next meeting. If there’s anything else you need to know, Vowrawn or I would be happy to help. Ordinarily, we expect our number to be strong enough to protect themselves, but unity is needed, now more than ever. We will not have this office’s authority undermined any further.”

“Of course. I understand completely.” Our situation is shaky.

“Good. The meeting is adjourned.”

*

Dromund Kaas

Darth Nox, the newest appointee to the illustrious Dark Council, was sitting nervously in his office. His body craved movement to blow off steam. He wished to pace, jog, jump, or worse, jump around from corner to corner like an acrobat. But there were eyes on him, and they needed to see what he wanted them to: a calm, composed, charismatic, cold-as-a-Winter-on-Hoth Sith Lord whom it was unwise to pick a fight with.

He had consumed every last trace of the Ghosts he’d once merely tamed, which had permanently improved his power and lifespan, but he was not immune to fear of the unknown.

Truthfully, he was taking it a bit far, as he’d swept through this place for bugs before sitting down. But there was no telling how advanced those kinds of devices were when playing at the very top. He finally got the excuse he’d been looking for to leave the room when he received a call from Talos Drellik, requesting an audience.

Needless to say, the short human was surprised when the Dark Lord came to him. “Oh, my Lord! You didn’t need to come to see me, I’m sure you have a lot to do!”

“Not presently,” Nox said lazily. “I needed the change in scenery for an hour. So what can I do for you?”

It was just what Nox had been expecting; the diligent archaeologist had dug up definitive proof linking Hekaten to Lord Alloysius Kallig. Unfortunately, this meant that his family name would be common knowledge as soon as he went public.

“I’m grateful for your efforts, my Friend. This should go a long way towards giving me legitimacy.”

“I’m thrilled to have served, my Lord!”

Nox continued to speak in the same register, as if he wasn’t entrusting Talos with his most deepest, compromising secret. “I’ll hope you don’t mind me admitting, that I had a different reason for coming to you personally.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“You’re a good man, Talos. Good at discovering things, and doing so quietly. Connections, lost sites, relics. But for today, I have something a little different from your usual work.”

“Anything for you, my Lord.”

“My family. I want them found so I can begin making all the necessary arrangements to whisk them to safety. Some of them were placed in witness protection by Darth Marr. The rest, I do not know.” He left a small datapad filled with all the details of his extended family, from parents, to siblings, to spouses… and children.

“I understand the enormity of the task you have entrusted to me, my Lord. And I’m humbled by your trust. I will see it done.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

*

Chapter 40

Chapter by Anchanted_One

Chapter Text

10 ATC,
Corellia

Mark Fodorn, despite his fearsome reputation, was not fond of wanton destruction. All of his targets, even the ones he killed gruesomely, were picked for death. Usually because the job called for it, or they stood in the way.

But jobs with the description ‘Go to this place and kill this-many-people?’ He didn’t like it. Especially if there was no guarantee that he’d have the desired results.

After killing these poor sods for a whole day, there was still no sign of Corellia’s famed Green Jedi entering the fray. Mark wished he’d had better info to work with, but Tormen didn’t do good intel.

In fact, Mako had discovered that good intel was a thing of the past for the Empire; some idiot Sith had gone and dismantled Imperial Intelligence.

Without them, the Sith had plans backed by suppositions instead of fact.

It was all he had to work with, however.

“Hey, Mark?” Mako said hesitantly. “We’ve been at this for hours. How about we take a break?”

Mark nodded reluctantly. “Let’s just… let’s just call it a day.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

“Only for fighting. I have a different task for us.”

“Oh, joy.”

“We need to find a better way to draw Seros out. This ‘plan’ is getting us nowhere.”

“If it’s intelligence you’re looking for, perhaps I can be of help.”

Even Mark was stunned. “Who are you?” he asked, betraying surprise for the first time in a while. He realized he had his guns in his hands, and had to put them away. The broad who’d sneaked up on him wouldn’t have given away her game if she meant something sinister.

“Good evening, Champion,” the dark-haired woman bowed slightly. There was a wide smile on her face. Mark felt like she was teasing somebody, and it might not be him. “Sorry for the scare. It wasn’t you that I’m trying to sneak up on.”

“Who are you?” Mako demanded. “And what do you want?”

“I’m Cipher Nine. I assume you know what that means.”

“It means you’re delusional,” Mark sneered. “Intelligence was disbanded.”

“Perhaps, but its asset structure was not. I still answer to my old designation, as do many of my… former colleagues.”