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The imperial Knight tapped the side of his head as considered a walk towards the situation room in the CIC (Combat Information Center). But decided against it. He glanced up at Mythos and grinned widely. It was always nice to see an old GA soldier like him working with them. He saluted his respect and then chowed down on the rations handed them. He looked back at the new recruits as he finished his plate of food and smiled. 

 

“Don’t worry, we still have a presence on base. If there is combat, it will be quick and we will retreat out system as soon as possible. If you get engaged, just remember to make your way back to the troop ships asap yeah?”

 

He looked at Mythos.

 

“You have a position for the IK on this sir?”

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Lord Commander Raphenel Karlovci Contispex- Imperial Warden

 

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  • 1 month later...

This was not how he imagined leaving Chandrilla behind. Everything had gone so dramatically wrong. This was the Jedi's fault as much as it was his and Rose's. Or maybe it was no one's fault at all. But it was easier to find someone to blame.

 

As she stumbled towards him, Durose realized that he was still tightly squeezing his choked out victim with all his might. It was no doubt the shock of everything. He felt like he was frozen in time as the seconds fleeted away.

So much for taking a prisoner...

 

Snapping out of it enough to toss the wookiee aside, Ro tried to move to Rose's side but his body didn't respond.

 

“Hey.” 

 

There was supposed to be a response but nothing came out. Instead, he gaped at her with eyes as wide as saucers.

 

“You did really well, Durose. And here I got uh…” 

 

Durose looked at the horrific wound on her chest. This was his fault. This really was his fault. If he hadn't made her abandon her armor, she might have maybe survived that blast. Or maybe she still wouldn't have. But it was easier to find someone to blame.

 

As the tears rolled down her cheeks, they mixed with the blood that came trickling out of her mouth as she spoke. She was clearly in bad shape.

“I… I Kriffed up.”

He watched in horror as her petite frame collapsed beside his numb body. He found himself still trapped in a stunned silence. It wasn't until she touched his shoulder that the feeling in his arms and legs returned to him and he snapped out of his mortified trance. It wasn't the first time he or Dhonarr had seen death. But this death was more real to him than most of the others. Especially since these memories and experiences were really his. He had lived such a sheltered life at the Link. But he missed that life more than ever in Rose's final moments. What he had experienced over the last couple months was not living. It was a never ending nightmare.

 

“I set the autopilot to Cathar. I…don't feel so good.” 


Even as she spoke, she seemed a bit delirious. She might not have even known what she was saying at this point.

Was the autopilot set to the planet of Cathar? Or is she calling me "Cathar" and it is "set, too, Cathar"? Did she even know where Cathar was? Did these smugglers have accurate star charts there? Aren't we supposed to be heading to track down the Jedi?!


"Shhh..." Ro began as he wrapped his long arms around her and held her tight. "You did fine, Soo'Gah'Wae. But if you wanted a shirt in red, I wouldn't have gladly bought you one from one of the shops. You didn't have to go out and do all this."

 

His voice cracked as he spoke, his weak attempt at humor the only thing he could think of. She deserved to smile before she died. At the very least, he wanted her to see a smiling and reassuring face before she rejoined the great Circle of the Force. It was just that he was having trouble smiling with all the water that kept creeping out from underneath his eyelids.

Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his free arm, he hugged Rose tight to his body as he rocked her a little. He could feel her body growing cold and her life fading.

"I love you, Soo'Gah'Wae. Don't forget me when you join the Circle. I will need your strength and spirit to guide and watch over me so that I can stay strong and defeat me enemies."

 

His voice was a bit shaky but he said that last little bit with conviction. In all honesty, he didn't know if he really "love-loved" Rose. But the truth didn't really matter right now. She always carried so much pain around with her. She deserved to feel loved for once. In reality, Ro was still very much on the fence about what to make of Rose. There were things he definitely didn't like about her. Her impulsiveness in particular was unacceptable to him. And honestly, she was now dead because of it. She had acted like a child and put them both at risk. Maybe if she had thought things through and discussed her plans with him before acting...

Kriff, Soo'Gah'Wae! Maybe you wouldn't be here dying in my arms!
 

Or maybe she would have still ended up here sooner or later. Maybe this was all her fault or maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was the Force or fate. But it was easier to find someone to blame.
 

Seconds stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. He could tell that she was having difficulty breathing, much less speaking. Barring some sort of miracle, it looked like their time together had run out. His mind was pulled back to a song Dhonarr's mother used to sing to him at night when he couldn't fall asleep. It has an rhythmic melody that he had always liked as a child. A 'duh duh duh dum, duh duh duh dum' or 'duh duh dum,  duh duh duh dum' generally alternating back and forth. It was the only thing he could think of with such short notice. It wasn't a funeral dirge, but it was a pleasant enough tune to fade off to sleep to. 

In those final moments, the song kept playing in his head. So instead of keeping it to himself, the former Watcher of the Link softly whispered the melody to his dying Soo'Gah'Wae. His voice echoed softly off the walls as the ship quietly hurled through hyperspace towards its next destination.

"Sleep my darling little one.
The sun is down and night has come.
Close your eyes and fade to sleep.
Yes I am here, oh yes my dear, 
I will keep, you safe and sound.
From what dangers might be found.

So close your eyes and fall to sleep.
Think sweet thoughts and dream of me.
The night is here and talk is cheap.
Oh what wonders you will see.
The sun is down and night has come.
So dream sweet dreams, my little one."

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The last two days had been hard for Ro to properly describe. Perhaps “nightmare” was the most apt word for it all. He had made long journeys before but none quite like this. After their little skirmish, Ro had passed out with Rose's warm corpse in his arms. When he awoke, her body was little warmer than room temperature and it had already begun to stiffen, frozen in a moment of time long since passed. The smell of death was all around him. But it felt like moving would only acknowledge what he already knew was true about Rose, so instead he just laid there in silent meditation for what felt like hours.

 

When the smell of death and fecal matter became no longer bearable, Durose finally began to stir. Freeing himself from Rose was a bit haunting. He could almost swear that he saw the hints of a smile frozen on her lifeless face. But it may have been his mind playing tricks on him.

 

Moving her aside, Durose went to work dragging the other bodies towards the nearest airlock. The work wasn’t particularly hard but his spirit wasn’t in it. This whole thing had turned out to be a big mess. Or rather, a terrible tragedy.

After dealing with the other corpses, Ro returned to Rose’s body and carefully lifted it up and carried it into the Fresher Suite. He removed what was left of his tattered shirt and went about meticulously washing the body from head to toe. The stomach would also need to be properly gutted and sewn back up to as best as reasonably possible in its condition. He could tell that the tense muscle fibers had already begun to breakdown as he carefully went through the procedure. As unpleasant as it all was, it was necessary.

Once he was satisfied with the level of detail and care taken in preparing the body, Durose gave it a final scrub down and left the corpse in there to dry while he began to explore the ship. There wasn’t much value to be found on the ship to be honest. But the Mon Calamari had two items of note. In his collection of personal items, Durose happened upon some robes and a lightsaber that seemed to suggest that the man was once a Jedi. What he had done to end up with this less than reputable crew was beyond Ro, but this realization made it that much more fortuitous that they had caught his group by surprise and Rose had used that split second to blast him right between the eyes. He clearly couldn’t have been that high ranking or versed in the Force but the fact that he had a lightsaber of his own must have at least meant something.

Beyond that, Ro found a light repeating blaster and a holdout pistol and a variety of knickknacks, datapads, comm units, and random trinkets. The Jawa also had a rather expensive collection of repair and hacking tools which Ro used to hack the ship’s database and rewrite certain codes and information. Of course, he realized that he would need a clean registration if he intended to keep this ship. But he knew a few people on Nar Shadda that could be relied on for that. He just needed the right items to trade. And judging from the crew of this ship, what he needed was already here. He just had to figure out where they had installed the smuggling compartments.

In the meantime, he decided to visit the captain’s quarters. That was where he found their droid. A TDL Nanny droid with the designation NAN-3, Ro had no idea what to make of the bolt restrained metal contraption. To be completely honest, Ro had failed to realize that this model of bot even existed. It made sense that something like this would. He had just never ran into one quite like this.

 

Inside the room, Ro found the caller to command the bot. The feminine bot informed Roshan that she was a member of the crew and belonged to the captain and crew as partial payment for a job that they had performed for another group. It had also been modified to function as a protocol droid and could speak Jawa and wookiee, among other languages.

 

Ro could honestly care less at this point. He commanded the droid to begin clean up duty and scrub away all the blood, bacteria, fecal matter, and grime that had been left from all the fighting and killing. The droid was mortified to learn that the former crew was dead, but it otherwise followed Ro's orders (not that it could really disobey if it wanted to).

 

Before he headed off to get some rest, however, Ro returned to the Fresher Suite with the Mon Cal’s jedi robe and dressed Rose’s body in it. No one was quite the right size for her and this oversize piece of attire was no exception but he didn't feel right just leaving her now clean corpse exposed and out in the open. He ordered the droid to not enter the suite for any reason and headed to the captain’s room to sleep.

 

He wasn’t sure just how long he actually slept before jolting awake. He couldn’t quite remember his dream but he could still feel the ominous intensity that lingered from it.

 

This is all wrong. All wrong. What have you done, Rose? What have we done?

He found the morbid nature of this whole voyage rather unsettling. But there were important aspects that needed to be taken care of. As his Soo’Gah’Wee, she deserved a proper burial in the land of his ancestors. But he actually knew so little about her.

If only there was some way that I could...

Suddenly, the thought hit him like lightning streaking across a bleak winter nightscape. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it sooner!

 

Her helmet!

Using the Jawa’s tools and some of the items the ship had available, the former Watcher of the Link was able to create a makeshift display to allow him to see the information that was kept within Rose’s helmet without wearing it (something his head was too big to succeed at doing). Of course, what he found was way more than he bargained for. 

 

The first thing that he realized upon accessing her helmet was that it was linked to her funds account and had her Black Sun agent ID listed. He hadn’t realized that she was a member of the Black Sun before she joined the Mandalorians but undoubtedly this handsome sum of credits came from her time under their employment.

What in the galaxy was she thinking just tossing this thing out!?!? If I hadn’t taken it, who knows who could have gotten access to all this stuff!

But beyond the superficial, Ro found a treasure trove of personal data. There were holophotos of her parents and her as a little child, journal entries, and all sorts of information. He felt a bit rude snooping around but he wanted to make sure that he properly performed her burial rights based on the person this clone was. Not her deceased alter egos. Backtracking through her available information wasn’t a terrible complicated task but he found himself watching and reading entries that she had left behind with hints of horror and intrigue. She was a complex but troubled clone who had almost thrown away everything to join him on this fool’s errand. She had honored their bond. And her helmet belonged to her child or mate or next of kin. However, all he tracked down was a series of entries and expenditures pointing to a cloning facility on Tatooine. 

 

Heavy is the head that wears this helmet. But she deserves the right to know and choose its final rest place, whether on her head or in a pile of scrap.

 

Headed to the cockpit, Ro decided to inform Dhon that he was on his way and wanted to meet at the tribal burial site for a funeral followed by a lucrative proposition. Finally satisfied with his message after a few trial versions, Ro sent it off. To his surprise, more time had passed than he realized. He would be dropping out of hyperspace in less than an hour.
 

Returning to Rose’s body, he removed the necklace that he had given her way back when she had first defeated him in combat. He stared in silence at the edges of the triangle-shaped fossil. Then at the Cathar words engraved on it.

 

'To the victor,' indeed.


Placing it back around her neck, Durose took a small knife and cut a lock of Rose’s hair before pocketing it. Her body had returned to being limp by this point. It would likely start smelling bad rather soon. If he was lucky, the worst of it would not begin until after she was well buried. But this morbid business was anybody’s guess at this point. Ro just wanted to be done with it already. He wanted to remember Rose how she was before they boarded their infernal ship. Not the discolored corpse that lay in front of him now.


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…Most Sith hate machines, considering cog and gear lesser than flesh, electronic synapse the lesser to their own neuronal input. The Krath know better. We are the ones who bind sentience to steel and electric fire, just as the sculptors hew stone into statue. We give it life…

 

*****

 

What are you?

 

The Route to Cathar would be a long, but there was always an abundance to be done in the life of a Sith. Nonetheless, the Sith Lord stared into the winding veil of hyperspace, meditating on the swirling madness of the broken light. There was sound that painted the background of the delusion. Her captured ship, Triple Six, had a hum; its own song, and it would change its tone in discordant chords every ninety standard seconds.

 

What lies behind your divergent music?

 

The Krath meditated, letting her mind fall away, abandoning her consciousness to the electronic resonance. There was a fleeting emotion that rose within her. She let it grow, fostering it as one would for a single spark they wished to bring into flame.

 

…Sorrow?

 

The Sith let it use her, feeding her own strength to help it flourish. There was a bestial melancholy stained partially with the sensitivity of sentience, but incomplete and ephemeral. With another breath, she lost its touch and the feeling faded into the strident refrain of the hyperspace engines.

 

…Spast.

 

The Sith Lord slipped out of the cockpit, letting her fingers linger upon the controls as she passed. There would be more to discover. She passed by the refreshers and into the galley. It was mostly gutted, and not repaired by the Trandoshans, but there was rations and a stimcaf-press.

 

The girl dropped a handful of the grains into the heating dish and poured boiling water into the receiving tray. The grains gave the galley an earthy and bitter smell as the smoke from the tray was drawn into the boiling water, forming an infusion that was filled with high levels of caffeine. Hayley breathed in some of the vapor that wafted from the glass and let herself relax before taking a sip.

 

Highly bitter.

 

It wasn’t the high-quality stim she was used to. Her master had spoiled her with the most luxurious of foods and drinks, and it made the average seem mundane. She stared around the empty galley, taking another sip of the astringent fluid before speaking out to anyone within ear-shot.

 

“Stims on.”

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As the ship barreled through hyperspace, Shiro remained with his men. A simple anger roared in him as he shifted his gaze down the hall and back to Dunstan, his crimson eyes aflame as they shifted. His own stupidity almost cost his comrade his life, and yet, his foolishness ate at him more as the time passed. Partially blaming himself, partially blaming those two Sith that claimed his life as theirs. If only he was stronger, if only he weilded suxh power as them. Then he could have shown them the error of their ways.

 

But he did not, and he could not. So all he could do was let the stew simmer within him, his intent to gain freedom and the power to weild only growing stronger with each encounter. First the slaves, those who bound him in iron and chain. Then the Tsis who bought him and taught him the rules of the Arena. And now his life as an Imperial Marine under the rule of the Dark King, enslaved again at the hands of those who say they follow his rule. It was almost sickening the hypocrisy he was finding himself subject to. With a subtle sigh, he forced himself to take a seat, his legs jumping in irritation and anticipation.

 

Yet, he remembered the life he had been given at the Arena at Krayiss II, kindness recieved through combat and proving. It mimicked these two very well, as if he was nothing but fodder to them unless he showed them otherwise. But did they deserve it? Were they worthy of the devotion he put in proving himself in the Arena? For all they had shown him were tantrums, the spoiled simplicity of power granted and not gained, just as any spoon fed adolescent would reveal. Almost as if they had forgotten that in order to rule, you had to have the respect of your followers, not out of fear, but out of mutual benefit. He spat to his left as he stood up and paced more as his gaze shifted to Dunstan's being cared for.

 

Soon the aroma of stimcaf graced his nose and he felt the gurgling of his stomach as him form ache for substance. It had been a long day and the last meal he had had was before the Battle of Coruscant even began. So he turned and made his way toward the galley where the smell originated, a familiar presence creeping up his spine as he grew near, causing his anger to boil evermore and the hair on the back of his neck to stand on it's end. He was about to turn away when a voice resounded, and knew he had been noticed.

 

“Stims on.”

 

Walking in, Shiro shot a subtle glare toward her as he turned toward the press, grabbing a nearby cup, a cup crusted with whatever remnants remained from its last use, and with a quick swab of insides with a cloth, poured a cup full. Looking over the stale rations, Shiro grabbed one and made his way to the table. Letting the silence linger, Shiro began his meal, taking a sip from the caf as his gaze shifted briefly toward her.

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Telperiën’s nose twitched at the smell permeating the ship, she took a deep breath and savoured it. Bathing in the refreshing smell of that sweet memory-inducing Caf. Memories came flooding back, time spent onboard the Marie, time at Korriban’s Academy, almost everywhere but the din of battle and Dathomir. It hurt her heart to think of that backwater, even with how devastated it had become, even from the relief missions. The backwardness of her people persisted. Some would never touch the energy stim out of tradition, some from distain of offworlders, many reasons that made her people weaker. But in reflection, that stern rejection of the outside galaxy was a strength. That was hatred to be harnessed, something that the Nightsisters could exploit in the normal witches. But Telperiën reminded herself to order a crateload of Caf beans to be shipped to Coven Myrkengodi before the week was out anyway. Mostly for herself, and any Sith that might come to the cradle of the children of night.

 

She tread softly from the room that she shared with her Sisters into the ships galley, where Hailey and Shiro were conversing. Or more that they were not conversing, and the man was brooding about something pointless no doubt. Her Sisters followed her and she swooped up a cup of Caf a ration pack. Pointedly she plopped herself down to the only seat next to Shiro and there gave him a baleful look as she opened the ration packet with her teeth. 

 

“Are you going to use that anger for something? Or are you going to let it stir in you until you become a bitter old husk?” 

 

She dumped her caf into the packet, resealed it, and squished it between her hands as the bread, now heavily dosed with caf instead of water, rose and congealed into something relatively edible with the bitterness of stimcaf mixed in. 



 

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…What do you do when your Sin sinks its roots into your very soul? Your Sin is what gives you power, but it can also overwhelm your own will. Krath cannot be mere conduits to the Dark Side, where we let it express itself in our arts without our own will’s interference. The Force is like a Dewback upon the Jundland Wastes, it must be saddled and tamed, lest it throw its rider and trample her...

 

*****

 

The Sith Lord stared at the soldier as he entered, her sulpheric eyes appraising him of his worth. All she could sense was the haughty animosity of the dishonoured, and she found it trite and uninteresting. There was no passion in it, no expression of Sin; just the monotonous fretting of humanity. Weakness. It made her own anger rise at the very contradiction of it all.

 

…The songs of the honored are not written by the weak.

 

Fieldgrey met his glower with her own disinterest and took another sip of the bitter drink, attempting to let the drink’s soothing nature calm her own emotions but it was to no avail. She gritted her teeth as the nightsister took up residence beside the man taking her own cup of Stim and packet of rations. The Sith Lord focused her anger into the implanted darkmetal on her wrist, bleeding it away before it could overtake her mind. The metal grew uncomfortably warm.

 

Discordant tones echoed through the hallways and the Sith Lord’s mind was brought back to her earlier thoughts on the infantine sentience she had felt. There was no sign of it now, even among the claxons, there was no music of life. She frowned and tossed the remainder of her cup into the recycler. Her voice carried a tone of disinterest.

 

“Hyperspace alarm, prepare for arrival.”

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Shiro's gaze only shifted for a moment as it met the other's arrival before it shifted back to the Sith he aided on the prison ship. Taking another sip, he silently tore open his rations and ate them as they were, stale, crumbly, and bland. But he wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction in this moment. With a hard gulp to swallow, he licked the access from his teeth as he turned toward the newcomer.

 

"My anger is reserved for another." He spoke, his crimson eyes glaring at both as it shifted between them. "But do not worry. Your transgressions will not be forgotten."

 

With that Shiro turned back to his meal and was about to take another bite when the klaxons erupted their familiar sounds, and Shiro shoveled his meal down and quickly flushed it with the Stimcaf as he stood and exited the commons, tossing its empty contents in the bin as he did. It wouldn't take him long to return to his group. 

 

"Dunstan, status report." Shiro barked, Dunstan recognizing Shiro's disdained look and rushing to his feet. "Not completely field ready, but I'm good to go, sir! Shiro glanced a brief glare, seeing the bacta patch being removed and his boot placed back on as he stood. With a grin that both knew all too well, he nodded. "Good. Gather the men. We've arrived to whatever hell hole these priestesses have brought us to."

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((Continued from Ossus))

Aidan sighed after a long pause following Sandy's question, slinking down in his seat a bit. He didn't want to answer, didn't really want to acknowledge what had happened beyond how he already had, but if he was going to, he might as well go first and get his answer out of the way.

"Guilt, I guess. I feel like I tried to help and made things worse. I know full well that's always a possibility, but when it actually happens? It still feels horrible. As for what went on between you and Master Vos, well...seems more like Jedi politics and differing philosophies than anything that really concerns me. Frond is in good hands now, that's all that really matters."

 

It was what it was. Aidan just wanted to complete his mission for the Empress and be done with it all.

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"Well, at least you tried to do something. After we arrived on Ossus, I turned to the force seeking greater power so that I might be of more use. I became so focused on my own inadequacy that I was completely ignorant of my friend's plight. Seeing frond like that so soon after our reunion is jarring to say the least. Although, I can't say I haven't learned something from all of this. I know Master Tobias's plan would have kept frond from further pain, but that doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. Over reliance on the force can be not only crippling, but also lead to disastrous results. I think Tobias and Frond are proof of that right now. I think destroying Frond's saber was the right thing to do. and I think I can speak for Frond and myself when I say that we are proud to have you as our master, Master Sandy." 

 

 

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The feeling coming off Aidan’s presence in the force was much akin to her own, Sandy thought. This was a horribly awkward mess that was only going to fester more as time went on. Not like her actions could cause a split in the order of course, but there could be serious censure if Adenna thought her actions warranted reproval. But the heart of the problem was that she didn’t feel that she had done anything wrong at all. What would that mean then? If she wasn’t remorseful, then could things really spiral out of her control? Her constant companion while an apprentice was the horror and fright of getting kicked out of the order, but she was beyond that now. 

 

She had a responsibility to her apprentices and Aidan to set those fears aside and carry on with the mission. They knew where the old Vigilance was now, the scrying done by the Jedi on Ossus had been imprecise, but close enough to pinpoint an area of space they all knew. The Maw. A collection of black holes, stellar debris, and hawking radiation. They were less than an hour out of the beginning of the maze that took them through that space so they had time enough to finish their conversation. 

 

She smiled at both Kel and Aidan, feeling for both of them in the force, seeing if there was anything that they held back. It appeared that they did not and she was glad of it. 

 

“I must thank you both for what you did as well in assisting me with Frond and Master Vos. Aidan....” 

 

She looked at him kindly, wishing that she could help in a more tangible way instead of the stoic way of a Jedi, but trying her best anyway. 

 

“...You did your best and did everything you could. Frond did not seem open to having his views changed at all. What happened was not your fault at all. As a Jedi and as your friend. You are guiltless in this.” 

 

The light above the hyperdrive console began to flash urgently. She glanced at it and took a quick breath. 

 

“If there is anything we need to take from the ship, get it on now, who knows what we will find at the Eternal Vigilance. If Gala was anything to go by, we might be in for a fight.”

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Pure pazaak!

 

Pure pazaak? Really?

 

What was this spacer thinking? And why was he programmed to repeat the same phrase before and after every hand? If anyone had to live with this nattering every day, they'd probably have shot the holo in the face a long time ago. Whoever wrote this Rand.exe persona was probably a little loose in the brainpan.

 

Sara stared long and hard at her cards. Her brow sloped closer to her eyes, flattening the faint wrinkles on her forehead and sighed through her nose. Her left hand kept her head from slamming into the metal of her dining table as the hum of her ship kept her idle thoughts at peace. Her other hand kept her bundle of cards from slipping to the table. 

 

There was a total of eighteen laid out on the table between three cards. And, in Sara's hand, she had: a plus/minus one, a plus/minus two, and a plus three. She knew she had the game in the bag and one more win would cement her streak. But she didn't see the point. This had been going on for hours. This was barely better than twiddling her thumbs. And if she had not invested in this holo-unit, she would probably be adding to the black marks on the ship's hull barely five feet away.

 

The holo asked for a hit.

 

'3'

 

Pure pazaak!

 

"I SWEAR BY THE FORCE THAT IF YOU…" Sara furiously intoned, clutching her right hand and sending her cards flying all over the floor. Her sweet amber eyes filled with murderous intent. Her thoughts were a hive of aggression and were just about to come to a head when a prick of sensation outside her perceptive bubble belayed the rising tide. Her cheeks flushed and her fist clutched even tighter. But, for the moment, her tirade was done.  A loud beeping noise came from her cockpit, accompanied by a subtle groan from her stomach. A lazy glance noticed the hollow bags of rations left open nearby and despite the liquid fury still simmering beneath her skin, she decided there were things more worthy of her attention.

 

Sparing one seething glance for the simulation still in progress, Sara got to her feet, paused to shake out her leg that had fallen asleep, and made her way toward the Luridae's cockpit. 

 

"What is it baby? Something good?" Sara cooed as she activated the transmitter on her dash.

 

Her monitor fizzed for a moment before displaying the signal of a ship out in Calamari space. The signal was weak, but it was clearly a distress signal and not a job. 

 

Dang…

 

Sara leaned against her ship and wiped her face with an open palm. She looked out at the empty void and lost focus, her gaze drifting toward the stars. 

 

"Well, it might be worth checking out."

 

Pure paz--

 

Faster than she thought possible, fatigue plaguing her for the past few hours, her slug-thrower leaped to her hand and the holo-projector went up in smoke.

 

Wasted creds

 

"Anyway, time to see what this is about."

 

Sara entered the coordinates into her navigational computer and initialized a hyper jump to the area; as close as the drive would take her anyway.

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Aidan didn't have much to check over, just himself, his Imperial Knight's armor, and his blade. Physically, he was ready. Mentally...that was another story.

"Didn't the Jedi hide the Eternal Vigliance specifically so the Sith wouldn't get their hands on it? Gala I understand, but the Vigilance shouldn't hold anything hostile to us."

Aidan spoke, and the words schoed out of his mouth with doubt though his logic rang true. He was still uncertain of himself after what had happened on Ossus with Frond. Something in how Sandy had warned them left a bad feeling in the back of his mind.

"...right?"

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On the outskirts of the Calamari sector things seemed to be going just fine for Leena as her freighter chugged along in hyperspace. The young Jedi padawan had  even drifted off slightly at helm, a slight smile across her face.

 

Suddenly, a twinge in the force caused the young Mon Cal to sit up and look down at the dash. “Uh oh . . . Something doesn’t seem right. Everything looks alright though. Internal core temperature, normal. Hull integrity, 100%. Gravitational dampeners, functional. Hmmmm. Hyperdrive fuel, empty.” Leena’s eyes bulged as she realized her own words. “Empty? Didn’t someone fuel up before giving me the green light?!”

 

Suddenly a soft, albeit annoying honking alarm filled the cabin. WARNING. WARNING. FUEL CAPACITY AT . . . ZERO PERCENT. PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY HYPERDRIVE DISENGAGEMENT. FASTEN ALL PERSONAL SAFETY HARNESSES IMMEDIATELY. WARNING. WARNING. FUEL CAPACITY AT . . . ZERO PERCENT. PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY HYPERDRIVE DISENGAGEMENT . . . “
 

Leena barely had time to grab her harness and snap it into place before the entire shift jolted violently, the streaks of hyperspace reverting to pinpoints of light instantaneously. The young Mon Cal was thrown against her harness and slammed back into her chair, the breath leaving her body in a gasp.

 

With her eyes closed, Leena groaned in pain as she slowly reached up and slapped the release of her harness before tumbling to the floor. “Thanks for the warning computer. Could have warned me at 10% or something.”   
 

Picking herself up off the floor using one hand on the dash to pull herself up and look out at the void of space. It all looked the same. In that moment, Leena wondered if she maybe should have spent some more time studying star charts. It was hard to practice medicine all alone in space.

 

Tapping her fingers on the dash, Leena pondered what to do. “I wonder where I am. Maybe I could call for a tow. I need to get this medicine to Dac right away. Hmmm. Think Leena. Think. There has got to be something. Oh! Look! A distress beacon!” Depressing the large red circular button on the dash, Leena pondered what to do next. “Did it work? How long does it take? Shouldn’t there be like a confirmation or something?” Leena pushed the button several more times. “I hope it is not broken.”

 

Not getting any more results, Leena looked back at the closed door that sealed the cockpit from the  rest of the ship. “I wonder if bacta could serve as a fuel substitute? Probably better that I don’t do that. Bacta could be flammable or something.” Plopping herself back in the pilot’s chair, Leena pulled up her navchart. “At least we’re still on the right path. Looks like Dac is only . . . 13 years travel via sublight engines! I don’t think I have enough rations for that.” A twinge of fear welled up in Leena’s chest. She had not thought much about dying, sure she had witnessed it first hand, but that was other people. Dying in the void of space definitely was not one of Leena’s top choices in the ways to die category. 
 

Closing her eyes, Leena pulled her feet up under her in the seat and focused on calming the mounting fear, allowing the force to flow around and through her. It was hard to focus on anything positive in a situation like this. The girl focused on making sure the fear did not overwhelm her. Emotions were not forbidden for a Jedi, but she could not let them control her. 

 

Lost in the calming current of the force, Leena lost track of all time. She paid little attention to the static world around her and the empty nothingness outside. She was only drawn from her trance by the soft alert of her shipboard computer alerting a ship on the scanners.

 

Leena’s eyes shot open as she lurched forward, tumbling to her knees on the floor with a clatter and a wince of pain, her feet tangled beneath her bottom, asleep from her time meditating. 
 

Eyes slotted against the pain in her knees and tingling in her feet, Leena flipped the comms switch and broadcast on all frequencies. “Mayday! Mayday! I am carrying medical supplies for Dac and am out of fuel. Help! Please! Lives are depending on getting this medication!”  Leena did not even stop to ponder who she might be contacting. She was hoping that whoever it was had a heart and wanted to help people in need as much as she did. As she let go of the comm switch though the realization that she may have just broadcast her position to a Sith patrol, pirate mothership, or droid scrappers dawned on her. 
 

Reaching out in the force towards the far off ship, the girl did not sense any imminent pending doom. “At this distance though, do you really think you can accurately sense the intentions of the unknown Leena Kil?”

 

”I just have to trust the force.” She assured herself as she hit the button to slide open door from the cockpit. She made her way to the docking port and waited to hear the telltale thud of the vacuum seal meaning the other ship connected. She was not sure if they’d have fuel they could share or if maybe she would have to load her supplies aboard the rescue craft. Either way, if it got the Jedi and her cargo on the way to Dac again, that was what mattered. 

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The striated tapestry of piercing white and blue came violently to a halt, allowing the tableau of planetary bodies that decorated the big black obsidian to resume their silent watch. Sara clicked a few switches on the right half of her control panel and listened to the familiar hiss of contingent systems that compensated for the hyper drive as the ship came to a slow drift on the edge of Calamari space. 

 

The Luridae took a bow-ward shift and instinctively Sara’s right hand grabbed the yoke, arresting the ship’s momentum. She took a moment to listen to the distress signal in its entirety, now that it was accompanied by a comm message, and scanned the horizon with her amber eyes, looking for any sign of ambush or pirates moving in to take advantage of what could potentially be a big payday; or… a big pain in the butt.

 

When she spotted the source of the signal, she let out a small sigh. It appeared to be a standard medical freighter. It also appeared to be in working condition, which was a big red flag. Sara reached over to initiate a diagnostics report using her ship’s sensor suite. It wasn’t a surefire way to suss out what was wrong, but it would give her a basic idea. And, from the readout, it looked like the freighter was perfectly fine. But it was completely out of fuel. 

 

“Huh. Looks like someone didn’t plan properly. Or it could still be a trap,” Sara mused aloud to herself while keeping a steady watch on her weapon systems.

 

She leaned the yoke forward and watched as the Luridae edged closer, warming to the hum of her baby’s thrusters. Then she carefully adjusted the yaw to match the other ship’s docking port with the clamps on her freighter’s starboard side and initiated the docking sequence all the while keeping her eyes on a swivel and listening for her proximity sensors. Once on the other side, there would be no turning back. But never let it be said she didn’t try to be aware of her surroundings.

 

Once the docking procedure was initiated, Sara sauntered to the starboard port of her freighter on the wings of yet another thundering grumble from her stomach. I really wish I wasn’t doing this on an empty stomach, but it is what it is. 

 

Sara checked herself briefly, making sure her weapons were fastened and her gear was in order. She listened for the clunk and hiss of the decompression and then took a ready stance with her slug-throwers at the door. Her fingers hovered over the triggers just as the doors opened and she took one step forward as she heard a squeak from the other side. 

 

Quick on her feet, Sara swung her guns toward the unknown assailant. But it wasn’t what she thought. A small Mon Cal looked up at her with a mixture of unknown emotions written across her fishy face. And although Sara was prepared for the worst, she honestly had no idea what to make of this. A lance of fear and uncertainty worked into the area above the Zeltron’s left temple while she stood and looked at the little girl. It was clear Sara’s presence - while expected - was not what the little girl expected. Sara eased her slug-throwers into her holsters one at a time and held her hands out toward the Mon Cal in the hopes of communicating a peaceful message and removing the lance of fear lodged in the side of her head that was quickly building to a very painful headache. 

 

“Hey, hey hey… It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” Sara grunted, recalling the message she listened to and looking around the unknown ship and spotting a few unopened ration packets nearby. Her stomach lurched almost immediately at the sight of food, but Sara kept her edge. She took stock of her exits one more time before relaxing her stance and coming once again to stare at the frightened little fish.  

 

"Alright lil guppy, I'm going to be brutally honest with you. I was almost hoping this was a trap so I could raid you for money and supplies. But seeing as how you transmitted a distress signal, you likely don't have a lot of money. I mean the medical supplies would fetch a pretty good price, but despite what you might be thinking right now, I'm not THAT heartless." Sara said with an even tone. Even though she could tell the gist of what people were thinking, she wasn’t super adept at talking them down in a crisis.

 

“Huh. Well, I was really hoping you weren’t a pirate. I mean wouldn’t it be better, feel better I mean, to help all the sick people down on Dac?”

 

Sara blinked for a moment. It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought of how all this must look from the other side. It was kind of odd. Scorpion did raid empty freighters from time to time because there were a lot of bills to pay to stay in the air. But she was not - strictly speaking - a pirate. However, standing here in her dirty clothes, with her days old smell, and two slug-throwers poised to end what ended up being a child with expensive cargo, she wasn’t painted in a flattering light. But she had to work with what she had.

 

"Provided you don't mind me grabbing a bit of food," Sara continued commenting as she grabbed an unopened ration pack and started to snack on it, "you have two options." 

 

“Help yourself to some of the rations.”

 

"I could tow you to the nearest fuel depot where both of us could fuel up, or we could move your supplies to my boat and come back for your freighter another time. It's not ideal, but it will take twice as much energy to tow your ship with mine and fuel isn't cheap. So, what's it gonna be?"

 

Sara stood patiently while the little Mon Cal made her decision. Worst come to worst, Scorpion had food and could leave the guppy to her fate. But Scorpion could see the care in the little guppy’s eyes. This was important to her. 

 

“It’d probably be faster to cart these all aboard your ship. I know. I know. You could probably just fly off and leave me to rot, but something in the force tells me you wouldn’t do that. Maybe one day I can return the favor or if it is money you are really after, I am sure the Jedi Order would reimburse you for your troubles. Who knows maybe you’ll want to stick with me and help the folks planet side. I could always use another helping by hand. Maybe we could get a drink or go for a swim or something. I’ve been told the seas of Dac are not something one wants to miss. Have you ever been there? I haven’t. I mean, I was born there, but I don't really remember anything. My earliest memories are of the Jedi. I bet you’ve been there dozens of times. Maybe you could show me the places I just have to see.”

 

Honestly, Scorpion had never been to Dac either. There wasn’t much of a reason for her to go. She’d been to other destinations in Mon Cal space but never Dac. She tried very hard to stay out of the bacta trade. It might have been lucrative and straight in its own right, but it was also extremely dangerous if you got caught on the wrong side. 

 

“Alright guppy. Let’s get the show on the road then. Show me where the stuff is and we’ll get it all carted over.”

 

Sara chose to leave the ‘Jedi’ mention in the air and re-package that another time. It wasn’t important right now and if they both sat there interrogating one another nothing would get done. 

 

As it was, it took a few hours to disable the distress beacon and transfer all relevant cargo to the Luridae. When it was all said and done, Sara stuck a tracer on the Mon Cal's freighter tied directly to an encrypted signal on the Luridae's sensor suite and gathered the guppy before locking up and initializing another jump; this time aimed at Dac. 

 

“Oh, and the name’s Scorpion by the way.” Sara said as she punched in the coordinates and ran through the last countermeasure before initiating the jump. “You might want to sit down.”

Edited by Scorpion

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  • 1 month later...

Leaving Ishvara behind for the first time in a very, very long time, Lord Roshan's new acquired T-6 Shuttle mostly purred as it sailed through hyperspace, shaking only every once in a while just to remind him of how simple and frailly it was designed. While Solus played around with his new pet, Lord Roshan closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment. His relaxation, however, was interrupted abruptly by the return of his new weapon.

 

“Lord Roshan, sir, Tear is bandaged up and while he didn’t like it, he, uh...he’s bandaged up.” 

 

"Well done, Soulless. He'll hopefully be back up and running in no time."

 

“Um, Lord, a question. I swore to your cause but...what is it? Your cause? After all, you are a god, and you ascended me...so what is the goal that I work towards? I understand to become a powerful weapon, but...what does that mean?”

 

Lord Roshan paused. He spun in his chair a little to better face Solus, "Well, Sir Soulless... that is a great question. Are we talking about immediate or existential? In an immediate sense, my cause is to see that you become a great weapon, a "god killer," "soul reaper," and true Knight of Roshan and perhaps even a legendary Sith Lord. And then along with Aliss and I, we will return to Ishvara and kill my rival and all his children and families and their families families and all their relatives and friends and allies and associated people for their desecration of my sanctuary. On that day, with his disembodied head in my hands... I will declare his name and curse it. But I have sworn to never speak it again until the die he dies."

 

The ship shook a little as he spoke of cursing the man's name. Spinning back around in his chair, Lord Roshan checked the readouts in front of him. Everything looked normal. Vessel was probably just showing its age.

 

"As far as existentially speaking, we exist. But you are the greater than us "mortal gods"? What does it even mean to be a god? That we have power? That we can create life? That we should be obeyed and worshiped out of fear or reverence? Or is it simply a title we take to make ourselves feel better or make weaker minds bow before us? To speak truth, Soulless, I am not god in a true sense. I did not create the universe or the Force or even you. But I do understand it, I can manipulate it, and I did place you in a body that gave your already created existence a physical form."

 

Lord Roshan took a deep breath before letting it out slowly and continuing, "But you and Aliss are my children. You are my legacy. One of flesh and one of metal. That's why you take my name. If you choose to rule the galaxy, I will support that cause. If you choose to reign as a god on Ishvara, so be it. But the meaning of life is subduing. The weak must serve us because we are strong. Not everyone can sense the force and use it. So we are special. And our specialness makes us better and greater and more important than them. And thus, it is our responsibility to perfect our power and bend the knees of all that oppose such power and our right to rule."

 

Spinning back around in his chair to face Solus, Lord Roshan added with a hint of sadness, "I forgot that. I grew complacent. I lost everything. The Force punished me. Because I did not continue to enslave it to my will. And a slave on the loose is a betrayal waiting to happen. Does that help answer your question at all, Soulless?"

___

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Solus listened intently to his lord’s words, soaking each one up carefully. It was the first time he had seen a kind of gentler emotion from Roshan so far, though Solus’ lifetime so far had been brief. Still, Solus had seen a touch of anger from Roshan back in his ascension. Now Solus was seeing a touch of sadness. Solus was feeling a mixture of pride and sadness himself. Pride at the fact that Roshan was willing to share this emotion with him, but sadness because his master was sad. 

 

When Roshan faced him, Solus nodded. “Yes Lord Roshan. It does. At least, I believe it does. Yes…”

 

Solus glanced out through the window at the array of passing stars and space. While his sensors that could not read what it was, it and Roshan’s words made Solus think. He turned and began slither out of the cockpit to attend to Tear and Sir Aliss, but at the door he stopped.  He placed a hand on the metal frames of the door, feeling the texture of the metal on his own fingers. Lost in thought, he began to mumble, but grew slowly with enthusiasm.

 

“Lord Roshan, I vow to be the god-killer you need. Once I have become strong enough, your rival will feel your wrath! Yes, that is my oath! Ha ha!” 

 

Solus was feeling a rise in emotion. He couldn’t help himself. His serpentine tail shivered in excitement. Solus' body moved upwards nearly hitting the ceiling with his head.  Solus looked as if he was looking at the ship's ceiling  inches away, when in reality his gaze was somewhere else. With his hands clenched, Solus raised both arms as if in triumph and swiveled around to face Roshan. 

 

“Yes! That is it! I will become a god slayer! Solus the Ascended will become more! "

 

Solus grew louder and prouder, lost in emotion.

 

"By my visions!" Solus slammed the ceiling once with a metal fist, causing a large banging noise.

 

"I will be more god-like then anything before! By my ascension!"

 

Solus slammed with his other fist, denting the ceiling slightly.

 

 "I will become a tool of the Force! By this body!"

 

With both fists he slammed his own chest, the ringing noise echoing throughout the ship.

 

"I swear to be a weapon to slay gods, become a god myself, and then…"

 

Solus turned back to Roshan and lowered himself into a bow. “...your rival will feel your wrath.”

 

Before anyone could say anything, a howl came from the back rooms. Tear was awake and sensing its ancestral home. The ship’s monitors beeped in warning that it was about to exit hyperspace. And Tear knew it somehow. So did Solus. Something in him shivered. Something dark. 

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“Lord Roshan, I vow to be the god-killer you need. Once I have become strong enough, your rival will feel your wrath! Yes, that is my oath! Ha ha!” 

 

Roshan listened to the Shard's words as it spoke. The phrase "need" made him bristle a bit. He did not need Solus to be a god-killer.

 

But do I desire it? Of course.

 

Lord Roshan chose not to correct the being in that moment, however. The Shard's heart was in the right place.

 

“Yes! That is it! I will become a god slayer! Solus the Ascended will become more!..."

 

With each mechanical vibration of his voice, the Shard's excitement became more and more palpable. Roshan listened in silence, reflecting on the words uttered.

 

"I will become a tool of the Force! By this body!"

 

Another false statement. But he will learn in time.

 

"I swear to be a weapon to slay gods, become a god myself, and then...your rival will feel your wrath.”

 

As Tear howled and the ship rattled, Lord Roshan spun back around in his chair. He looked over the readouts. The area of space they had dropped out of hyperspace into was unfamiliar and devoid of natural markers. And in the distance, a massive, derelict, space station looking object sat silently in space. It looked old, if not ancient. An ominous chill ran down Roshan's spine at the mere glance. Whatever the almost obelisk-shaped object was, it exuded darkside energy and its artificial gravity well had yanked the small T-6 shuttle out of hyperspace with ease. Moving the ship away from the object and having the nav-computer recalculate their destination, Roshan spoke over his shoulder to Solus.

"Sir Soulless, I commend your excitement. But actions speak louder to words. We can speak something into existence only if we follow such talk with actions. And never... and I mean never... allow the Force to make you its tool. You must enslave the Force to your will. To become a tool of the Force would be akin to making a pet mynock or Tut'aka your master or taking orders from a food dispenser. Simply because something is useful or capable of performing helpful or vital tasks that's doesn't mean that it deserves to be master over your autonomy or has any the right to control you! That is where many a foolish force user falters and becomes weak, impotent, and easily defeatable. Never forget that."

 

Hitting a few buttons on his console, Lord Roshan sighs, "I must apologize for the slight detour. It seems that something random pulled us slightly off course. But we will be back on course in a few moments as soon as we escape its gravity well. Go and check on Tear. As soon as we are in hyperspace again, I'm going to tend to Aliss. Our current route seems to be a shortcut of sorts. Give us another several hours or more and we should be arriving at our destination in no time. In the meantime, I think I'll take this chance to get some rest."
 

Once back in hyperspace, Lord Roshan checked in on the sleeping Aliss. She and the other Knights of Roshan had pushed themselves to their limits just getting as far as they had. She deserved the chance to rest. A shiver rippled down Roshan's spine as he laid down on the metal floor. It wasn't the cold of the floor that made him react, however. It was the thought of where they were headed. He had taught himself two languages over the decade plus of his "seclusion" from the rest of the galaxy. The first was an expanding of what he already knew of the Echani language. It was a research project that he had began before arriving on Ishvara and was easy enough to continue. It was also a language that he eventually taught to his Knights and that they used tactically in battle.

 

But the second was practical for far different reasons. In spite of the challenge, he had spent years learning and mastering the Sith language. It wasn't necessarily easy but between the artifacts and old manuscripts and auxiliary databases and the extra digging he had done while "exhuming" Sith artifacts and journals from caches and tombs, he had managed to piece together a fairly extensive knowledge of the base language in several of its most common forms. 

 

And that knowledge intimidating him a little at this moment. Because whether the readout was in High Sith or some other hybrid form, what he could make of it read an awful lot like the sith word for "Pesegam." And he was more than a little familiar with what Pesegam meant. Also referred to as Moraband or Korriban by the ancients, he'd read stories of its existence and ties to the Darkside and the original Sith Empire. And as much as Lord Roshan didn't mind a little mystery on occasion, he hated surprises. But as it stood, what awaited them there was anyone's guess.

 

And yet all the same, on to Korriban it was. Fear would not stand in the way of the answers and the power they sought. At least, not this time.

___

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Solus watched through the window as Lord Roshan maneuvered the ship. Once they were on the way, Solus listened intently. He flinched at the rebuke. It was physically visible how Solus started to feel. His entire body slouched slightly, and the enthusiasm that was there moments ago completely dried up. 

 

At his words, Solus nodded and went back to the room to check on the hound. Tear growled slightly at the metal being as Solus entered. The droid stared at the beast quietly and moved closer. It’s growls intensified.

 

 For a moment, he froze. Solus reached forward and grabbed the thing’s head behind the ear. 

 

“Shut…” With brutal force Solus slammed Tear’s head down into the bed. Tear snarled and barked. With metal hands, Solus began to squeeze, making Tear yelp in pain. 

 

“UP!!!”

 

Solus raised Tear’s head up and slammed again. While the bed wasn’t a hard surface, it certainly was enough to make Tear flinch and stay still.

 

For another moment, Solus held the hound down. The hound panted over and over, staring at its owner in utter fear. It knew what the thing could do.  Solus stared down, his yellow eye giving a putrid glow over the thing’s face tempted to try to crush its skull.  To break it apart. His grip tightened. 

 

“I am in charge, and you will please me! You hear?"

 

Solus realized that there was a noise in the room. A kind of rattling, clicking noise. Glancing back, Solus saw that the sound was coming from his tail shivering on the floor uncontrollably.  This was the first time Solus had to focus to stop moving it. 

 

After he released the hound and backed away, Solus slumped against the wall, his torso leaning back while his tail curled up underneath him. Something was wrong with the body. It felt sluggish. The energy that moved through the wires was not moving as fast. 

 

“This...is...what…” Solus started. His voice box didn’t sound right. It was too slow. Too low. 

 

For a moment, his eye flickered, giving the illusion he was going blind.

 

A dread panic began to form inside Solus. 

 

“What...what’s...happening? No..Lord...”

 

Solus tried to pick himself up, but the chassis wouldn’t respond. The electricity was coiling back to its battery. With outstretched hand, Solus reached for the bed where Tear watched cautiously. 

 

“Tear...help…” 

 

The last thing Solus saw before his eye flickered out completely was the hound struggling to get up on it’s broken legs. 

 

***

 

To anyone outside, it was obvious that the chassis Solus had needed to shut down and do a recharge. However, since Solus wasn’t fully accustomed to what his body needed and how it worked, to him it was the most terrifying thing he ever experienced. 

 

At first, the shard tried to move the body over and over again. It begged. It commanded. It could still feel the body through it’s electromagnetic senses, but it couldn’t see or hear. Solus felt like he had just descended back into the void he came from. 

 

“Is...is this my punishment? Did I not please my Lord? Roshan! Please!” 

 

Solus begged. He pleaded. He requested and bartered with the void around him, hoping Roshan would hear his cries again like he must have had before. Then, it turned to shouting. Silently, the crystal inside the chassis turned from a bright red to a near black. The lines became more jagid, and erratic. 

 

“Well kriff you! I...I will do it! I will give myself power! Yes! Myself and no one else! I will be powerful! Yes! And once Roshan, once you are dead, my family will be better then ever!”

 

**to Korriban**

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  • 3 weeks later...

She nodded stiffly, almost mechanically, she was so tired. And she fumbled at the clasps of her crush webbing for a moment before slowly standing up. Every joint in her body ached and screamed at her to stop and the blade wound at her belly screamed even louder. She took a deep breath and forced herself to slowly walk out of the cockpit and towards the refresher. She laid a tired hand on Aidan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze before she stumbled off. 

 

The several meter walk to the refresher pod felt like one of the longest walks of her life and when the door finally slid closed behind her she leaned on it heavily. She let herself slide down its thin metal facade and the tears finally came. Pent up emotions boiled out of her as tears dripped down her face to fall gracelessly from her chin onto her scarred armour chestplate. Were the tears all for Fynn? No. It was a mix of everything, all the deaths, all the memories tainted by such a simple thing. Nearly ever good memory she had was stained by the tendrils of the darkside. Was nothing from before her capture and torture and...Her hand went to her abdomen and she sobbed in a breath, pulling her mind from then to look for anything else. Was nothing before then to be preserved? Every smiling face had turned to frowns, and every bit of memory was filled with choking despair. Where could she find her footing? Not in those blissful hours before the slavepits, not in the embarrassing minutes on kashyyyk. She took in a shuddering breath, even his eyes were so hard now. But she loved him none the less for it. 

 

Uhg love. She pulled at a sweaty strand of hair, trying to cover her emotions again by distracting herself. She pulled at the strand until a glimmer of pain started to edge out her feelings. She concentrated on that pain until she gasped. Her eyes flew open and she saw herself in the polished steel bulkhead that acted as a mirror in the cramped refresher. She let her grip on her hair slacken and she slowly shook her head. 

 

She had already defeated this ghost. A long time ago. She wiped at her eyes and let her emotions slowly settle. She wanted love, she wanted a solid ground to walk on. And perhaps sometime she would get it. But for now, there was nothing she could do but rely on herself. Plust even if they were tainted by darkness and embarrassment, the memories were good ones. She reached out to the sink and pulled herself up and slowly began to undress. She was a mess, a long burn arced across her stomach to end right below her right breast and some of the tissue was unevenly scorched, the bloody remains of her tunic having been burned into the wound itself. She opened the medical pouch on her belt which was lying on the floor and administered a bit of bacta gel and numbing agent, which would be needed before she got into the refresher’s shower unit. 

 

She pulled off her boots and trousers, pulling the sections of light armour off and stacking them diligently inside the shower. She looked at the chest piece and her finger traced the crest of the imperial knights and she let her eyes close. The tactile feedback of the engraved crest helping balance her emotions further as she began to steady her breathing. Her eyes drifted up to her reflection and she sighed. She looked away and stepped into the refresher’s shower. Tapping the button to dispense hot water and letting the flow run through her hair. It took several painful minutes of the heated water and soap flowing down her wounds before she felt close to clean. Then several minutes more for her mind to clear enough to think. Then she picked up each plate of armour and washed them thoroughly off all their muck and blood before she tapped the cold water button and nearly lept out of the shower from the shock of the cold water. 

 

She slowly dried herself off with a towel from the rack, then hunted in the cubbies for a spare flightsuit. Finding one maybe two sizes too big she slipped into it and stuffed her battered and bloody tunic into the disposal chute. She stacked the clean armour pieces next to her boots and making sure the refresher was clean for Aidan, opened the door and walked back out, brushing her tangled hair as she did so. The decking was cold on her bare feet as she walked the few meters back to Aidan and seeing him asleep she smiled. She sat down on the seat opposite him and stared out the viewport at the swirling lights of hyperspace for a few minutes before she finally spoke. 

 

“Aidan wake up. Your turn.”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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the scavenger ship was following closely behind master Tobias' ship. Kel stood by Yava's bedside watching over her as she slept. Her breathing was shallow and and she was running a high fever. In his hand was the last vial of medicine that Trushaun had given him. He hesitated in giving this to her on the vigilance. Now her condition was in critical state. they were too far from an inhabited world to seek treatment. So now Kel was presented with a dilemma. If he waited for them to arrive at Nar Shadaa, she would surely die. But if he gave her the medicine there was a chance he could save her, or that her body would reject it and die in the struggle. meaning that she would die by his hand. Before he did anything else he began meditating in order to prevent his mind from being plagued by fear and doubt. Once that was done he reminded himself of why he was here to begin with. The duty of a Jedi is to the preservation of life and the balance of the force. He came to the aid of these people to follow through on those beliefs. And so Kel placed the medipen on her arm, injected the medicine into her body and began the process of healing Yava by empowering her immune system to purge the harmful chemical substances in her body.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Yava...

 

Yava... 

 

Get up!

 

The room was dark, but outside a storm raged, rain and wind smacked at and in her eyes, figures stood around her. All of them seemed ominously close. Dark figures eager to see about her form some semblance of life. Then finally one of the figures pulled out a small needle, and pierced her eye. The pain was intense, like something from her nightmares but worse. The pain grew, and abated only after the needle was withdrawn.

 

"There... now I'll be able to see." The voice said. But she knew the voice, it wasn't unfamiliar. The figures all withdrew accept one.

 

"K..er..n" The name escaped her lips. As she lay quietly the figure smiled, and sat in the far corner. 

 

"Good. You're awake. Touch and go there but the Jedi saved you... very fortunate." Kern said as he pulled of a pair of black gloves of his hands slowly, revealing the blood stains of a recently embattled form. His body too was covered in wounds. Yet, he didn't seem perturbed by this. He in fact wasn't a HE at all. The face was hers, except for the battle scars. 

 

"You... you almost killed me." Yava felt the peculiar sense of talking to herself. Yet this person was...Kern? 

 

"Damn close I know. Don't be so hard on me... I was trying to win after all." He said as he leaned forward, his eyes leering at her accusation.

 

"You bas...tard." a roll of thunder outside rocked the room as she said it. 

 

"See... now that's not very nice is it?" Kern said sternly. He sighed and wiped some blood from his face wound. He got up, exasperation in his motions, as he began to pace. He had her mannerisms almost perfect, it was like watching someone else in her skin. A sense of deep dread and revulsion came over her.

 

"Damn, really hoped I'd win that one. I mean I hate losing, but losing to her, like that? I was so close. Let's just say I've had better days. She didn't even let me have any last words. Just so damned rude. I tell you... jedi these days have no sense of history. It's all slice slice, kill kill, exterminate evil." He said complaining and ranting about his loss. Yava felt his feelings too, a bitter anger over losing. But why... she didn't lose, and why wasn't she angrier at him? 

 

"Oh... I suppose I should explain... well...this." He/she said as it turned and approached her bed side. The voice was hers, the face was hers... everything about the person in front of her was her. Except it wasn't it was darker, louder, angrier. It's rage shook the room.

 

"Where... where are we?" She asked looking around he non-descript hospital room. 

 

"I peeked a little, the 'Ryloth Spite' I believe. There is a jedi looking after you. Damned fool wants to save you. Jedi are just so reliable you know?" she said as her embodiment continued to pace.

 

"But-"

 

"Oh right, this is your mind... well a small part of it. Think of it... like a partition. A hidden sector. IT's deep, deep, within your unconscious. I had to be careful, too deep and I would be lost, too close to the surface, well that would cause-"

 

Her doppelganger paused as another roll of thunder clashed. 

 

"...well you know insanity is too nice a word for it. Call it a schism of your minds eye, a splintering of your very being into several violent shards of-"

 

"What!?" Yava asked angrily trying to clarify what she was saying. 

 

"It's not pleasant. But lets not dwell on that ok? Right now, you've got to keep them off the scent. If the jedi try to probe you too deeply and with too much effort, we won't survive. Meaning us-"

 

"But what the hell are you!?" She asked angrily.

 

"I'm me, with some you along for the ride. I transferred a part of my mind to you when we linked before I killed your captain. I've been in a continual mental link with you since then. IT was severed when my mind was...

 

He paused swallowing his anger, then continued.

 

"IT's a little transference technique I picked up from my days as a Jedi... I perfected it on Kesh. It killed the first dozen or so... but it's a very useful tool as survival goes. In normal plebeians, I just hitch a ride. But... when someone special comes along. Just think of me as a light combination of my soul and your own. If I just took up residence, then the pesky Jedi with strong mental abilities would see me like a red flag to a Lurian Mudhorn. But like this..."

 

Kern twirled about in her female, lythe form. A perfect facsimile of her to down to her hair and imperfect left ear. 

 

"Like this... I'm just a part of you. Your aura will be the same gray mass, nothing special. Provided you keep your emotions in check, I'll be no different then the normal conscious mind. I even have your predilections-" 

 

"That's... just evil." Yava said, clearly pissed off. She sat up and tried to remove the needle from her eye.

 

"No... well perhaps a little evil. Sure I didn't ask permission, but the strong don't need permission to do what is needed. Sith survive because we do what we must. You are a force sensitive. I couldn't pass up the opportunity given the dangerous mission I had. Besides, you get way more then your share in this."

 

"I don't want it, I don't want you...I want you out." She tried to pull at the needle but it wouldn't budge. The pain rose and fell when she stopped.

 

"Well see that's the thing. I'm hardwired in. Scoop me out, and you come too. So unless you want to turn into an unsightly vegetable, I suggest working with me." He shot back, the full predicament setting in with her.

 

"That isn't right... it isn't fair. You almost kill me, and now you want favors? You-" Yava said, her anger raging. 

 

"Oh boohoo... a little mind transfer and you get skittish. Come now. It's not all bad. You get all my experience, all of my memories. Everything to use as needed. You can't buy that sort of knowledge. Plus I know so many delicious tricks, all in all you're getting a great bargain." He said as he leaned in smiling with her face back to her.

 

Yava began to panic, the storm outside got worse, and she began to shake. 

 

"I don't... I won't-I know a con when I hear one. Now I want answers, and since your in my head, I think I deserve some right the hell now!" She said a hint of her own anger growing. 

 

"Alright, alright... easy. There is a way. IT's complicated, but it can be done... listen you're waking up. Don't mention any of this... actually never mind. Your waking mind won't remember it, at least not at first. Just find your way to Korriban, remember... go to Korriban, I will take it from there."

 

"Why you egotistical, selfish, narcissi-" the room vanished, and quickly her minds eye plunged back into the waking world. 

 

-----

 

Yava's eyes fluttered. She looked up at the strangely masked humanoid caring for her, she groaned as real pain racked her body and lungs. 

 

"What.... what the hell?" she asked groggily.

 

"Where... where are we?" Yava asked the man without moving, as she struggled to breath.

 

Edited by Fynn Relmis

"Some things... are worse then death, being forgotten for example..."

Member Since '05 - The Old Ones | Character Sheet

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  • 2 weeks later...

Yava continued to stir and groan throughout the process of Kel's treatment. Kel noticed that her fever seemed to be dissipating. Although her breathing was still shallow. it was slow, but the medicine seemed to be having a positive effect on her. Eventually, Yava's eyes fluttered and slowly began to open. "She's coming around." Kel quickly opened the door and called out to the other crew members. "Hey, She's waking up! Get her some water!" Soon enough one of the crew members, a Twi'lek male came and delivered a flask filled with precious clear liquid. Kel thanked the man, took the flask, and returned to Yava's bedside.

 

Kel heard her curse under her breath before asking where they were. "Still in space. But we're closely approaching Nar Shaddaa. I've also called a medical transport. You'll be taken to a hospital for further treatment once we arrive. In the mean time, it's important for you to stay hydrated." Kel held out the flask towards Yava's lips. "It's water. don't worry, there's nothing in it."

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  • 4 weeks later...

The small transport carrying Aidan, Kashi, and the rest of the strike force began its long journey through hyperspace to the planet of Serenno. In the back of its cargo hold, Aidan Darkfire began a long meditation with a comlink by his side, focusing his consciousness inward, allowing the Force to flow through him. It came to him first as a trickling stream, but as he relaxed and allowed the sensation to occur more naturally it slowly became a large river connecting him to everything else in the galaxy. He could feel the ship, its crew, the strong presence of Kashi, and beyond...a vast ocean of stars and life that clung to existence.

It was one mind he sought, though, one among the trillions and trillions. The Force normally didn't work like that, especially with someone who wasn't a seasoned master. But here, now, he simply held hope, and trusted in the Force. After a long while, he found her.

((Continued in the Dejarik Board, we will try to keep this quick))

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Kashi stood at the entrance of the transports cockpit, gazing into the swirling brilliance that was hyperspace. For the Knight, it was always a splendid experience, its origins truly unknown and the mechanics of it lost upon his mind. And yet the serene nature of the Force flowed just as elequantly here as it did just about anywhere, as if it reached beyond time and space. He couldn't help but feel a sense of calm in the thought.

 

Turning away from the cockpit, he wandered back to the rest of the strike force, most of which was beginning preparations for the oncoming battle at Serenno while others simply sat in silence. It was almost unbearable.

 

Walking in with a grin, Kashi slapped his hands together and briefly rubbed them before reaching into his pocket for a deck of cards. "Who's up for a game of Pazaak?"

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The EE-104 Fisheye Asha’ajak slipped from hyperspace in the wake of the larger hulking dungeonship Valkyrie. Repurposed from a desecrated Mandalorian scrapheap, the Valkyrie did not need much work to repurpose it as a supposed pirate vessel. It’s war torn battle-ravaged hull testified to a more violent time in the universe. It made a perfect holding ship for any ill-gotten gain, protected from even the most withering fire an enemy could level at it.

 

Alongside the Valkyrie, the Interdictor Cruiser  Tiberius, an Imperial Immobilizer 418 and it’s flanking trio of CC-7700s emerged. Out of the entire fleet, these ships had undergone the most reworking. Names and IDs had been stripped from the physical as well as the electrical profiles of the vessels. Warpaint had been haphazardly painted in whirling primitive war tides across the hulls. While they still bore the silhouettes of Imperial war machines, they now looked like any of the other numerous vessels stolen during the chaos of the Imperial defensive.

 

It was imperative that the ships did not tie back to the Rebels. Days of retrofitting and outfitting had gone into insuring that the Jensaarai commanded fleet were as plain, generic, and traced back to countless backworld shipyards, pirating groups, and junkyards.

 

Standing aboard the bridge of the Asha’ajak staring out the digitized viewscreen, The Sarlacc sighed deeply. The void of space stood empty over the backdrop of countless stars. The Duros pondered deeply what they were about to undertake. It was a not a task for Jedi. It was not a task for Imperials. It was a task for an outsider, someone who could  take the blame and be brushed off if things went sideways. There was not much honor to be had in piracy. It was why the Jensaarai abstained from it. This, however, was not piracy. Under the guise of piracy, the Jensaarai warriors were bleeding the veins of the Sith war machine. Every ship they stopped here was the potential for a life saved elsewhere. The money, supplies, and weapons would fund the Jedi and their defenses that preserved the freedoms of countless peoples across the galaxy. The Jensaarai could not defend them all. 

 

Nodding to the stealth ship’s commander in a predetermined prediscussed plan of action, The Sarlacc began to set about a plan that could not be stopped. A radio signal echoed across the fleet and within 2 minutes the empty void of space was enveloped in a bulbous nearly imperceptible gray haze centered on the Interdictor fleet. The net had been spread.

 

 “Now all we have to do is wait.” 
 

The hyperlanes that connected Kuat and Coruscant lay deep in enemy territory. It was only a matter of time.

 

Turning to Svata, The Sarlacc placed a reassuring hand on the elder’s shoulder. “Are you prepared to board the vessels of oppression and take from them to save lives? We kill only when we must. Let us hope that our show of force will be enough for the downtrodden trudging under the yoke of the Sith. We will offer them freedom. Perhaps that will be enough.”

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Zipping through hyperspace, the Jedi Shuttle hurtled towards it’s destination. The ship fulfilled it’s duty as intended. It did not ask any questions. It went where it was directed and it did not question it’s purpose.   Leena pondered these things as she sat on a cushioned bench in the common area of the vessel. Why couldn’t she be more like this starship? Be a Jedi. Bring peace, not chaos. Stand for the oppressed and downtrodden, not flee at the sight of the enemy.

 

Turning these thoughts over in her head, Leena turned the hilt of her lightsaber over in her hands with the same rhythm. End over end the signature weapon and symbol of the Jedi turned and tumbled through her deft hands. It symbolized who she was supposed to be. She took pride in it and hated it at the same time. 
 

“Maybe you’re not meant to be a Jedi Knight Leena Kil. The MedCorps wouldn’t be so bad even without . . .” she paused, shaking her head to try and drive the thought out of her mind.

 

_____________________________________
 

Elsewhere on the craft, the armored Mantis finished cleaning his grayed Jensaarai armor, leaving a dull gray hue across the pieces. It was a Jedi training or meditation room. The Jensaarai had found it a refuge in which to contemplate. The ritualistic cleaning of his armor was as much meditation as the battle-ready maneuvers practiced within the waves of the force.
 

“I guard my emotions,

 

Lest they control me.”
 

The warrior spoke softly as he began to pull his armored boots and armored leg plating into place.

 

“I guard my kin,

 

through unity,” 
 

He placed his chest piece into place, looking at Sandy. “We are strong.”

 

Reaching down, The Mantis picked up his bracers and began to carefully afix them. 
 

“I guard justice,” 

 

He continued as he finished securing his arms. 
 

“For true justice is the path to peace.”

 

Picking up others bits of armor, the Corellian expertly secured the oieces into place without even having to look.

 

Continuing, his voice dropped to a loud whisper, 

 

“I guard Knowledge, lest the truth is forgotten.”

 

Picking up his belt, the Jensaarai slung it into place, before methodically placing each weapon in it’s assigned space.

 

“I guard life, because from life the force flows.”

 

”These are the tenants of the Jensaarai way Jedi Sarna. We were born of differences with the Jedi; but like the Jedi we stand for what is good. We seek a peaceful life;” he picked up his helmet and walked towards Sandy with a warm smile, “but we will do what must be done to preserve peace for our own and those who stand with us.” $:$/ He gestured towards the door, “Shall we walk?”
 


Strolling down the ship’s corridors, The Mantis spoke, trying to explain the ways of the Jensaarai while also honoring his oath to protect them.  ”Many who find their home amongst the Jensaarai are like Jedi Kil. They live in peace with their world, nurturing and creating in a galaxy of destruction and chaos. We protect them and they make us whole. Together, we seek the truths that the galaxy wishes us to not see. In true truth, real justice can be found. In that justice, true peace lives and flourishes. Not under the shadows of untruth. We operate there so that others may not”

 

Pausing at the threshold to the room where Leena was pondering, The Mantis took his helmet and gently placed it on his head with a click. “I will remain at the edges of the shadows. Unless needed, nobody will even know I am there. Right now,” he pointed towards the room where Leena sat, “I believe young Leena needs a Jedi to help her right now. May the force be with you Master Jedi.”


_______________________________
 

Staring down at her lightsaber, Leena did not even notice as the others approached just outside. The force rippled around the young Jedi as she questioned her position in the galaxy. She held onto the thought that the Grandmaster had sent her on another mission; but something made her wonder if it was not just a way to get her out of the way and not deal with the catastrophe she had been a part of on Mon Cal. After all, it had seemed like the Grandmaster had confirmed that Leena was not meant to fight the rising darkness. Fighting the darkness was what the Grandmaster wanted; where the order was directed and she was not to be a part of that direction. How long could she remain a Jedi if she did not conform?

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Humming a marching song as he worked, Svata carved and assembled from the pile of tech and oddities on the table. Slowly, over hours, his creation began to take shape.

 

The center of the construction was the bone hilt, hollowed out for the power cell, crystal chambers, and the various other bits that made the ancient weapon work. He set down the vibro-etcher and took a long look at the decorative carving running along the length of the soon-to-be lightsaber.

 

Constellations adorned the whole of the hilt, a starfield as detailed as the night sky. A simple, small outline of a sarlaac weaved between one cluster of stars on one side of the bone shaft, and a tiny ship moved through the stars on the others.

 

My teacher and my family.

 

Svata smiled as he stared at the empty spaces between the stars along the rest of the hilt.

 

Looks like I've got a lot of space to fill.

 

Svata began the work of placing the crystals into their respective chambers. He sunk into the Force as he'd been taught, for only through his connection to the mystical, uniting power could he complete his work. A bitter but pleasant ache unfolded in his chest as he worked, a memory coming to mind...

 

Parami laughed, clapping her hands in time with Svata's silly marching song. Behind the exaggerated goosestepping of her shameless husband, their first son marched in time, breaking pace every few steps to run and catch up to his father's longer stride. A durasteel strut lay propped against the 4-year old boys shoulder, his "weapon" that he used to hunt the ship's loth cat.

 

Unfortunately for Svata, the universe seemed to have granted the young the equivalent energy of a collapsing star, and the proud ryn had to admit defeat and end the game. He pulled his son aside and held the boy's "weapon".

 

"Now, why do we use weapons?" he asked.

 

The little boy opened his mouth, but then stopped, cocking his head in a comical fashion as he thought. He'd recently figured out that stopping and thinking got him the right answer more often than just blurting out whatever came into his head. Unfortunately, he was also four, and Svata could tell after a few moments that his son had gotten distracted and was off on some internal tangent.

 

Parami, no doubt guessing Svata's intention, walked over.

 

"What does Aunt Kila use her weapons for?" she asked.

 

This answer knew, and he shouted, "To protect the clan!"

 

Svata smiled. "That's right. That's what weapons are for. To protect the people and things you care about."

 

"I don't think Aunt Kila likes me."

 

Svata couldn't help but smile a little. The abrasive Kila had problems with children, and their son's recent obsession with weapons had earned her an endless stream of questions on a few occasions. Her respect for Svata's position had kept her from snapping at the little boy, but children were more perceptive than people thought.

 

"I bet you're wrong. You're a Dragoste. Kila's a Dragoste."

 

This seemed to appease the boy. "What should I fight for?"

 

Svata considered, but it was Parami who answered. "Son, you should fight for whatever you believe in and whoever you want to protect."

 

"I'll be a great protector like Aunt Kila!"

 

Parami smiled and looked at Svata. "I know you will."

 

Click

 

The last piece of the the emitter array snapped into place on the hilt. The weapon was done.

 

Svata wiped his eyes.

 

"Alright. You just need a name.

 

...Protector." He chuckled. "Simple, but I think that fits us, don't you think?"

 

He pressed the activation switch, and the twin golden blades hummed to life.

 

"Protector..." he muttered, still grinning.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

Svata stepped onto the bridge.

 

On 7/24/2020 at 9:50 PM, The Sarlacc said:

Turning to Svata, The Sarlacc placed a reassuring hand on the elder’s shoulder. “Are you prepared to board the vessels of oppression and take from them to save lives? We kill only when we must. Let us hope that our show of force will be enough for the downtrodden trudging under the yoke of the Sith. We will offer them freedom. Perhaps that will be enough.”

 

He grinned as he wrapped his new lightsaber hilt in cloth to hide it from casual sight.

 

"Defender Sarlaac, if you're going to teach me the mysteries of the Force, the honor of the Jensaarai, and my place in the universe, I think it's only right I teach you something." He stepped up to the viewscreen. "How to enjoy your work. And there's nothing more heartwarming than seeing a bully get what's coming to them. So yeah...I'm ready."

 

 

 

 

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The Duros Jensaarai could not help but raise his eyebrows in wrinkled amusement at his comrade’s comment. “I trust that your saber is functional brother? Perhaps it is best we keep both our weapons and allegiances hidden for the duration? When we have some time I will begin to show you the basics of lightsaber combat. Until then, I am confident your pst experiences will guide you as the need arises. Just let the force guide you and remember who you are fighting for; n the Jedi; not the Rebellion; but for our people, for justice, for peace. Remember the code. Remember your commitment.”

 

At that moment, a buzzing alarm alerted the bridge to a new arrival. Two new arrivals to be more specific. Two hulking Action VI transports fell out of hyperspace, drawn into real space by the fields of the Interdictor fleet. Aboard the ships, out of sight and sound, chaos reigned as the meager crews scrambled to find out what was going on.

 

Looking at the viewscreen, The Sarlacc reached down and grabbed a transceiver radio. Handing it to Svata, he inclined his head with an uptick of entertainment in his voice, “Time to see if these are the bullies you’re looking for.” The ships had come from the direction of Kuat, undoubtedly en route to Coruscant to help in the rebuilding of the devestated, and more importantly, Sith-controlled world.

 

Picking up his helmet, The Sarlacc set it atop his head with a click and a hiss. “I will ensure that our troops are prepared should you order boarding. Just get us in close.”

 

The stealth ship lurked a distance away from the rest of the fleet, but closer to where the two transports had fallen out of hyperspace.

 

Making his way through the ship, The Sarlacc found a band of varying beings garbed in a mix of Jensaarai armor and ragtag outfits of flight suits to robes. They were armed with an even more diverse set of weaponry; a band of potential-pirates if there ever was one, and each a seasoned member of the Jensaarai order. “Brethren, the trap has been sprung!” A chorus of grunts of approval accompanied by the snapping of weapons and armor into place for action greeted him.

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Sandy let her head rest against the crash webbing as she pondered the statements of the force user that was speaking in front of her. There seemed a strange sense of justice in everything he spoke, but at the same time there seemed a tinge of darkness. Or what was it? She could not tell, and perhaps a later deep dive into their split from the Jedi Order would be more fruitful, Sandy did not know. She looked at his heavy armour and when they arrived in the room where Leena sat she grinned. 

 

“I will someday need to learn more sir, but for now I must warn you that this place is not a planet for heavy armours. If only for your comfort." She ducked into the small refresher and came out in what was mostly a Jedi tunic but cut down to shorts and a short top, made out of breathable and fast drying material. Bare footed, she strapped her leather belt around her hips and looked at the hyperspace panel. Then back at Leena who she sat down beside and gave her a quizzical look. Her voice was soft and carried no reproach. 

 

“I sense much turmoil in you Leena. What is on your mind?”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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