ForceFusion

He looked at Faust through dead eyes. His breathing steadied and deepened. Into his stomach the air flowed. Faust spoke, calling him the new name which he had chosen: Darth Riftor. Just as it was alien to his tongue, it was alien to his ears. Faust spoke of using this new power from anger. He prompted Aerec, no, Riftor, to strike at outward foes instead of keeping the hatred inward...where it belonged. He did not want to strike Darex and the Jedi. He had done that only out of survival. Perhaps he would want to exact revenge on those on Corellia. But he hadn't the energy now. But Faust...yes, he could strike Faust. He could strike the man that had forced this new title upon him, the one who had twisted him into this angry, hate-filled, selfish Darth Riftor. The man who had made him kill his brother and therefore himself in one strike. Yes, he could strike him. He would strike him. He would send him across the room, break his lightsaber-defeating armor, break his ribs, and pummel his heart, that heart that should be skewered by the blade of light which he, Aerec, no, Riftor, both, either, it didn't matter, had wielded! Yes, Aerec had killed. He had killed himself and become Darth Riftor. Now Riftor would kill. He would kill the man that had trapped him into the tradition of the Sith. There was no regret as the young Sith, screaming, slammed his fist into the armor of Faust, behind his knuckles the full weight of the Force. His skin broke and tiny drops of blood came from his knuckles, staining Faust's armor. The Hunter flew back at Aerec's -- no, Riftor's -- strike, slamming into a nearby wall. He advanced on the fallen figure, partially recognizing that Faust had probably allowed the blow to have any affect at all, and reached out into the Force, yanking the lightsaber hilt from Faust's coat, igniting it as it slapped against his open palm. His breathing remained steady and the tears on his face were now completely dry. He stood above his...master. A drop of blood fell from his knuckles onto Faust's white coat. "You have killed me. My blood is on you. You will die in return. At my hand." Faust could kill him right there, Riftor knew. That was fine. Aerec was dead and Riftor was not worth anything yet. Faust would one day pay for his sins, even if it wasn't at the hands of the one he created. He knew this was an actor of Riftor, not Aerec. And he hated it. Aerec would have attempted to diffuse the situation some other way, perhaps with a joke, perhaps by bargaining. Riftor, though, only knew loathing and anger. And guilt to fuel the cycle.

A stream of air snaked its way up from Aerec's lungs and out his nose. The miniscule muscle twitching that action took was the only movement his body allowed. Perhaps his heart muscle even froze. The singe of death from Faust's lightsaber kept him in place, his life too precious to be thrown away with carelessness. He suddenly became very aware that his lightsaber had not skewered Faust through the heart, that they were both alive. He slammed the now harmless lightsaber hilt against Faust's armor twice, three times, hearing only the pathetic clinking sound of metal against metal. In disbelief, he let Faust pry the now useless weapon from his hand. With the heat of Faust's blade now away from his neck, Aerec's breathing became heavier. And the exhaustion came. Faust's words assaulted him, perhaps more harshly than his cuts had. "You are awake now. Your whole life, you have been asleep. You are awake and reborn, capable of meeting your true potential. Who you were, what you might have been, you have killed, and you are better and stronger for it." You have killed... Aerec had many sins on his hands and heart. He had cheated, lied, stolen, even maimed. Never had he taken a life. It hadn't been any life, either. He had distinctly taken the lives of Darex, Darla, and Dante, perhaps the only people that had ever cared for him in this life. He had wanted only to kill Faust and in doing so had taken the lives of the three people he loved. He had killed and failed at killing. A new emotion welled up. "You will need a new name, boy, a name by which to master your new destiny, to reshape an uncaring universe that has wronged you." His chin quivered a moment, then it felt as if his entire soul was collapsing. Tears streamed down his face and it was all he could do to keep his breathing relatively silent. Aerec quietly disagreed with Faust's semantics. Indeed, Aerec was a different person than he had been just moments ago, that he could not deny. He did not, however, feel any more awake. He did not feel reborn. Rather, he was re-marked, branded into a new identity. The fact was that he had not killed Faust or Darex or Darla or Dante. No, he had killed himself. Ironic, considering he had selfishly chosen himself to survive. Every thought that came burst new bubbles of emotion in his gut, tearing the tears out from his depths. Whatever the wording, Faust was right. His identity had changed, and with such a great shift came a change in name. He knew of the Darth tradition. He felt sick that he would take part in it. It caused his body to shudder with more weeping. And the thought of his pathetic form at the feet of the powerful Hunter only brought more self-loathing and hatred. And tears. He did not feel ready to forge a new identity, though he felt as though he'd lost his old one. In that moment, he felt nameless. "Aerec Blackwood" was gone, or, at least, going. As the word "Darth" formed in his head, it too seemed unnatural. But still Faust loomed over him, powerful as ever. In his weakness, the boy tried to find strength. The flow of tears was slowing and their salty liquid was drying on his cheeks. He sniffled in a full breath and straightened himself. His words came out only as a whisper, and they felt alien to his tongue. "Darth Riftor," his voice scratched. And a small stream of tears followed the path of those previously cried. ((Riftor, derived from the Norwegian word "rifter", which means tears.))

Aerec's blood mixed with Faust's after the brutal headbutt. But the pain only angered Aerec more. Standing and charging the boy lashed out a string of the worst profanities he'd learned on the streets of Coronet. His well of emotion was not running out. Rather, it was building. With every cut he blocked, blow he delivered, curse he spoke, and word from Faust he heard, he grew more angry. Angry at Dante for abandoning him, his parents for abandoning him before that, every scumbag CorSec joker who'd chased him on Corellia or made his survival more difficult, the Jedi for tearing him away from his brother, Faust, the selfish, deluded, gutter rat of a man that tore him away from the Jedi....himself for becoming such a damn mess in his new life...the whole damn universe for just dealing him shit for cards the past two decades. Suddenly, Aerec saw nothing but a glimpse of the future, his death and the one way to get out of it: by striking at Faust's heart. He had no problem with this. He cared nothing for Faust. He loathed him for twisting him into this flailing, angry chunk of flesh. He cut, just on Faust's cue. Then his eyes played a trick on him. He was cutting at Darex's heart. Or was it Darla's? Or Dante's? He couldn't freeze time. And above all, he couldn't die. He didn't hesitate. Faust, Darex, Darla, Dante, or Aerec....pick one. Aerec picked. He picked himself. ((Congrats, my friend. I'm not sure Aerec can recover from this.))

As the sparring continued, Aerec let the Force start to flow through him. Faust dodged his first sweep and Aerec took the cue and dodged Faust's counterattack, stepping aside before thrusting back. But Faust turned up the speed steadily on the attack, and soon Aerec found himself unwillingly giving ground. Every blow from the Hunter was powerful and weakened Aerec's grip on the handle. But still, he trusted the Force. Listening to Faust's instructions, he found himself deeper into the Force, just as Darex had taught him to dive into it. His steps and blocks had moments of pure smoothness, though Faust's aggression still caused him to stumble disjointedly. In one moment, Faust completed a complicated maneuver that, in hindsight, might've killed the young man. He didn't know how he'd blocked or dodged all of Faust's strikes -- at least four in a matter of short seconds. In fact, he didn't know if he had dodged or blocked, just that he had survived. But his thoughts and actions were not fluid enough to predict the Force push. Suddenly Aerec found himself on the ground, the Hunter standing above him. He had blocked a lunge from Faust, but found himself on the ground anyway. Faust lunged again, Aerec nearly helpless on the floor. But the Force was still welling up in him, and an energy cackling under Aerec was almost to the point of explosion. He didn't know how long the energy had been building, only that he'd first noticed it at the beginning of the sparring. But there it was, almost ready to burst as a deadly weapon came at his head. Eighteen years of life in the gutters finally ripped through the comic mask Aerec had tried to put over it. He'd scrapped for food and shelter until he'd stumbled on one tiny piece of luck that led him to the Jedi, to a family that could provide stability and comfort and purpose. And now Faust had ripped it all under him, taken him captive, and once again thrown him into isolation! This man, this horrible man had taken away everything he might be, everything he could be, everything he'd dreamed of being, everything! But, no, there was more that came out in one undecipherable scream. While the Jedi had provided Aerec with food and shelter, they had taken away the one thing which he'd held onto his entire life: his brother. On Corellia, Dante was all Aerec ever needed. No Jedi Master, no lightsaber, no supposed vision of justice could replace a brother! And Dante! That know-it-all older brother hadn't even given Aerec the choice! He'd just up and left, leaving Aerec with his new family, like he'd finally found an adoptive family to dump his little brother off on. Aerec did not hear his own scream for the first few moments, nor did he hear the clash of blades when he knocked Faust's strike aside long inches from his face. He didn't feel the impact of his body, propelled by a thrust in the Force, slammed into Faust's exposed midsection. His scream did bring him back to reality atop the Sith, slamming into his face with his right fist, his left hand desperately trying to keep Faust's lightsaber arm at bay.

There was something about Faust's movement and speech that ignited something within Aerec. Perhaps it had been his statement about survival: one that rang true in Aerec's experience. Perhaps it was the rhythm and intensity of Faust's words, punctuating most of his sentences with an emphasized "Cut!" that touched something in Aerec. Or the way he moved around quickly and grinned like a predator. Something in Aerec knew that Faust could end him and if he didn't cut he wouldn't survive. Faust's jabs were powerful, but easy enough to block. He'd handled a blade before and his duels with Darla had been at a quicker pace than this. Darla, however, had not represented the pure and intense ruthlessness of Faust. He took a moment to let Faust circle around to his back then waited a moment. When he felt that an attack might come in the next instance he executed a cut of his own, towards the Hunter's legs. After his first attack, he no longer let himself stay flat-footed. He danced with the Sith's movements, keeping as square as he could with him, delivering slices and blocking those coming in return.

Aerec nervously ran his fingers along his palms, the small motion a betrayal of his quickening heart rate. Faust had said "If you wish to follow the path of the Sith..." He didn't wish that. Though he had never been sure what the path of the Sith was, he didn't want to be like Faust or any of the Sith he'd read about. At least, not entirely. There were things to admire about them, but.... It was a strange out of body moment when Aerec saw his own thought pattern changing. Faust's words had worked, whether intentional or not. Faust had piqued Aerec's curiosity with the offer of sparring. Aerec knew then and there that he wouldn't turn this offer down. And he knew then and there that the decision might redirect his fate. He took a deep breath in and became fully within himself again. He forced a small grin. "I'm not tired. I've been sleeping halfway across the galaxy thanks to the meds you gave me." He allowed a chuckle, and savored it. I hope whatever time I spend with this Sith doesn't kill my laughter. It probably wouldn't. Faust laughed on occasion, though Aerec often seemed to miss the joke. "I could use a work out," he concluded. Then he took another breath and steeled himself against the worst of his fears of what Faust might be. "Just to be clear, though, I'm not sold on this Sith path thing yet. I'm just interested in your dueling techniques." That wasn't entirely true, but it was for the moment. Was I ever sold on the Jedi path thing either?

Aerec was slowly drifting towards a decision. He and Faust walked in private toward his quarters. He still didn't know exactly how much to tell Faust. He had made the decision to trust him in his statement that Darex was safe. But how much information should he trust him with? What information would be considered a betrayal of the Jedi? Was Aerec still a Jedi? "My training with Darex was interrupted by some interesting events, mostly featuring you, Faust." Aerec spoke with no malice, rather a touch of humor. "However, Master Travelian trained me in basic Force manipulation like Force push and pull. He taught me to communicate silently through the Force, as I've already done with you. We had done very little with lightsaber combat, though I sparred with Darla on an occasion or two. I did a lot of studying on my own time about the different lightsaber combat forms and the history of the Jedi and Sith." He thought back on all the things Darex had told him specifically about the Jedi and Sith, Light and Dark. Still, none of it made real sense to him. It was all...theoretical. "I'm afraid I wasn't a very advanced padawan when...Mon Calamari happened."

Faust again spoke to Aerec through the Force, and again Aerec felt strange hearing Faust's voice, not Darex's. But his resolve against the man had long been softening. He did not yet want to commit to the Sith, but almost too many factors were piling up for him to remain resolute. His time with the Jedi had been so short...and Aerec had been no pure soul or perfect student during those times. Perhaps Faust was right. Perhaps there was some darkness in Aerec that needed addressing. Just like Darla? he wondered. What will become of me if I reject your training? he asked the Hunter, more out of curiosity than as a threat to do so. He knew full well he was at the mercy of this man and therefore his choices were limited.

Aerec almost couldn't stop a smug half-grin from coming on his face when Faust came to Aerec's side. A slight edge over this Furion. Then he caught himself and felt slightly disgusted. He didn't dare react outwardly to Faust's touch, though it held a weight heavier than its simple physical properties. Faust had claimed ownership over Aerec. That was a sick thing. Darex had never done such a thing. Aerec had always been free to choose. Would he be under Faust's tutelage? In Faust's presence whatsoever? In that moment, he desperately wished Darla wasn't cut off from the Force. On more than one occasion in the past, she'd been a guiding friend, and though she was in a more difficult place than Aerec at the moment, he still felt that communicating with her might help him. But he was alone. Again. And here he was, practically grinning like an idiot at the attention of an evil man. What was Aerec becoming?

Faust's argument were convincing enough. Aerec remained skeptical about Faust and the Sith being out for the greater good, but he was too weak to be in conflict with the man. If Aerec knew anything, it was how to survive. And if he could help Darla along the way... He spoke to Faust as he had only ever spoken to Master Trevelian, through the Force. What choice do I have? It was almost sickening to be using this particular method of communication with someone so opposite Darex. Then the new arrival stared Aerec down. The look in his eye was nothing but threat. They hadn't spoken a word and yet a challenge had been issued. Aerec knew, however, that this challenge was deeper than any other challenge he'd faced. Julio undoubtedly represented a threat to Aerec's survival. Aerec's eyes tightened and nothing went through his mind but the need to survive. No, the need not only to survive, but to conquer. His pulse quickened. Finally, he felt the last of the narcotics let go of their grasp on his body. He summoned his strength and stood. His eyes remained locked with Julio's, but he did allow a half grin when his full stature put him a good few inches taller than his newfound rival.

Aerec's eyes tightened, trying to peek at the truth of Faust's words. But the Hunter opened himself up in the Force, letting Aerec's prods through. He wasn't lying. Perhaps there was some honor in Faust. Aerec didn't know enough about him to say that there wasn't: he'd simply assumed the Hunter was a bad man because of Darla and the Jedi's opinion of him. Plus the darkness that resonated off of him in the Force. Aerec had assumed Faust was honorless too quickly. "All right, I believe you," the captive padawan said. "But what will you do with me? You say I have friends here. I only have Darla." He smirked. "Sorry, pal, don't know you well enough to count you as a friend." But is he an enemy? Aerec asked himself. The lines on that were blurred, perhaps blurring further.

Aerec slowly came to wakefulness, too weak to do much more than open his eyes. He was free from the nightmare. And for a while, there was none of Faust in the Force. Only Darla. That was disturbing for two reasons. First, Darla was almost always absent in the Force. The only exceptions to that rule had been in times of great distress. And the second reason was likely why she was in great distress, Aerec guess: there was no Darex. Stress, anger, fear all surged through his weak body. For hours he could do nothing but writhe in his emotional pain. He finally calmed himself. Darex was probably dead, but Darla wasn't. He wasn't completely alone and without resources. He still had Darla, he still had the Force. His eyes told him only that he was restrained inside what seemed to be the medical bay of a shuttle. The Force, however, clued him into something else: he was not on the same planet. Though the planet's signature in the Force was similar to the water world, it was distinct. He knew he'd never been here. As he surveyed the new planet via the Force, Faust's presence re-entered. He cursed...well, tried to. He was barely strong enough to use his voice. Fuast's presence confirmed what he should have already put together: he was a captive. Before allowing himself to go completely under, he remembered Faust attempting to sway him. He hadn't fully worked, but it had put enough pressure on Aerec that he'd simply given up and retreated. Retreat would not be an option for long. But perhaps Faust had answers. When he saw the man standing above him, he tried to talk, but Faust spoke quicker. All the better, for there were answers in the man's words, and Aerec's voice still was not strong. Apparently Darex wasn't dead...if Aerec could take Faust at his word. When the Hunter finished, Aerec decided to test his vocal cords. His words came out as a croak, but they were understandable. "Where are we? And how can I trust you about Darex?"

Darex's touch came as a relief, but only because it ensured that his Master was alive. The Jedi Master offered no answers and no clarity. Aerec wasn't sure there was any clarity to be had. But Faust fought back in Aerec's mind, pressing him harder. Aerec did feel the anger, the sense of injustice and indignation of which Faust spoke. Indeed, it was a part of him. But so was the serenity of Darex, the determination of the Jedi. Was that following blindly? Did Darex follow blindly? Did Aerec? Could any of them help it, or was the Force too powerful, any attempt to shape it just an illusion? Aerec didn't know. It was all beyond him, too much to handle with the sedatives. Faust was right about one thing, though: there was darkness within him, just as there was light. But should that darkness consume him, should it outweigh the light? Where was the truth about Aerec? Where was the truth about the Force?

Aerec wanted out of the nightmare, but couldn't beat the drugs. He wanted to see reality, instead of being trapped in his dream world, pressured by Faust's attempts at persuasion and feeling only horror at what might be happening to his friends. He didn't stray from the Hunter's words, though, he didn't run from them. Since joining Darex, Aerec had yearned for concrete examples of what was "light" and what was "dark." No explanations had satisfied him. Perhaps Faust's would? It didn't do much. Most of what Faust said either didn't appeal to Aerec at all or didn't square with the reality he knew. It seemed that Faust had a misguided view of the Jedi, just as perhaps the Jedi had a misguided view of Faust. Some of it made sense, though. Each individual was strong and could choose its own destiny. Should choose its own destiny. If that was indeed the way of the Dark Side, was it so bad? But did Faust's explanation of the Dark Side conflict with what Darex had taught of the Light? The Jedi were not passive, not waiting for destiny to be handed down to them. They were as active as anyone Aerec had ever known, choosing their own destinies. They gave Aerec an opportunity for his own destiny. If Faust offered the same thing, what was the difference? It was an array of confusion. Aerec couldn't make it all make sense. He couldn't form his own view of the galaxy. Short months ago he'd only seen one planet his entire life, had only one friend. It was all a trap, every step he took with his thoughts led to another contradiction, another black hole, another answerless question, another actionless answer. He thought of Darla's horror, Darex's serenity, Faust's power, Dante's brotherhood, Skye's healing powers, Ilum's destruction...the galaxy was too big a place. He let the drugs take their course, at least for a moment. He didn't have enough to put the pieces together, not this sedated. Sleep was the only comfort.

Consciousness faded in and out, the narcotics pulsing through his veins more powerful than his will. Aerec wanted nothing more than to wake up and confront the nightmare of Faust directly, to find Darex and Darla and see that they were safe and alive. But he couldn't bring himself to wakefulness for longer than short moments, and all he felt was Faust. In his sleep, one dream kept playing over and over. A city he has only seen in holos stands below him. The city spans further than his vision, the horizon dominated by lights in the night, the scene strangely shimmering. There is life, power, and order. Peace. The city looks up to him. Praises him. Calls to him. Perhaps needs him. Aerec has never known power, nor the desire for it, so the dream is strange. He knows not what to do with his might. He has no want for it, not in the broad sense. But when he reaches out into the life of the city and feels for individuals, then he is able to orient himself within his power. It is for them that he would use it, to save them from death and fear, from poverty and cold. From loneliness. A presence comes from behind him, undoubtedly Faust, but not like the evil man. No different, though Aerec's view of him has changed; their relationship has changed. No longer does Aerec feel purely fear in the Hunter's presence. Rather, he feels acceptance, perhaps camaraderie. It is strange, impossible for Aerec's non-dream mind to comprehend, but it is Truth in the dreamscape. Faust speaks. There is pride in his voice. Pride for Aerec. Perhaps even, in a strange way, love. Aerec revels in it, thrives in it, survives in it. In a way, returns it. Reality's mind does not understand, but the mind of the dreamscape lives by it. Faust is not physically there. Indeed, Aerec is truly alone atop the city. Somehow Faust lingers in the atmosphere, lining the city, making his presence known to Aerec. Always there is Faust. When Aerec's mind was strong enough to wake from the drugs and come to reality, there is one thing consistent. Always there was Faust.

Aerec remained unconscious. Now, however, he had massive amounts of chemicals running through his system to guarantee that he stayed that way for a while. He dreamt. Of flying monkeys. And free candy. And rancors slowly losing their ferocity and falling asleep thanks to one tiny yet rather potent and well-aimed dart. The dreams were dark humor, the kind that is way too dark for you to feel comfortable laughing at it. In his dreams, Aerec didn't laugh, though he did recognize what would be considered funny. In his dream-reality, though, he was too damn scared to laugh. He slowly began coming out of the dreams, feeling that his body had been treated, covered with bacta patches, perhaps even submerged in the miracle substance. He didn't know where he was, where Darex was, where Darla was... But he knew Faust was near.

Aerec's crumpled form still did not stir physically. Had he complete control over his body, he would not have wanted to move it anyway. The fires never reached him, but the bruises and battery from the crash and following explosions left him riddled with internal bleeding. The only sign of life from him was the slight heave of his chest, even that barely visible. After long minutes and a new disturbances in the Force, Aerec's consciousness began to flicker. He found himself awake enough not to move, not to open his eyes, not to touch the Force, but only to feel. He felt two things: pain and Faust. Surprisingly similar.

Aerec hadn't been strapped to anything when the crash came. As he felt the ship give way to gravity after the massive concussions from without, he scrambled for something to hold onto. But he didn't get a grip in time. The shuttle slammed into the ground, throwing him against the ceiling of the cockpit and bouncing off levers and walls. He had no idea what was happening to Darla, but that was the only thought that found its way to consciousness. Everything was blurred with red, but he was still breathing, still awake. If he could've convinced his body to move, he would've looked for his friend and master. However, he felt himself simply desiring rest. Darex's question in the Force caught his attention, but he didn't have the energy to answer. It turned out not to matter, for a pulse came through the Force and the air: an explosion. The fire of the blast didn't get to Aerec's position, but the force of it did. Again, he was slammed against walls, but this time there was no blurry vision to greet him upon his crumpled landing. His unconscious body lay bleeding and bruised, yet still clinging to life. Thoughtless surrender.

Aerec swiped a blaster from a stormtrooper Darex had left limbless. Right, the padawan answered his master's orders. "Let's take the cockpit," Aerec said to Darla, tossing her another stolen blaster. With Darex the center of attention for the stormtroopers, Aerec and Darla had little problem getting to the shuttle's cockpit. Unfortunately, a pair of the faceless troopers stood guard. I haven't been training for nothing, Aerec thought. Reaching with the Force, he shoved one into the other, albeit not as hard as he would've liked. Both he and Darla sprayed a few shots at the troopers. Aerec wasn't terribly accurate, but two hits out of five was good enough to injure one of his foes. Darla had downed the other, and Aerec yanked one blaster after another out of the troopers' reaches. "Helmets off," he demanded, pointing the blaster menacingly. They obeyed, but Aerec realized it was probably too late. The pilots in the cockpit would've been warned by now of what was going on. Feeling fearless, he charged in anyways, sending his hardest Force-blast ahead of him. It wasn't much, but it did bump a pilot's shooting hand up enough that a deadly shot sailed over Aerec's head. He shot him in the arm in return before diving behind the injured pilot's chair for cover. "Think you can face down a Jedi?" Aerec challenged the remaining armed pilot just after thumping the injured one on the back of the head with the blaster butt. Perhaps that would strike enough fear in the man to just plain surrender. If not, it should distract him so that Darla could enter for clean up. Yeah, I think being a Jedi will get me into enough trouble to avoid boredom.

With each moment that passed, Aerec felt more and more like they weren't going to get out of this one easily. Would it come to a fight? Or would they be imprisoned? He had no idea. He didn't know Imperial protocol, nor did he know how Jedi tended to escape sticky situations. But he kept those thoughts at a minimum by maintaining his character: blissfully ignorant county-boy. "Well, we can't fix the hyperdrive from up here, can we?" he commented when they were marched up to the bridge. Upon Darex and Darla's feigned reunification kiss, Aerec blushed. "Sorry, boys...they tend to do things like that in public. My papa never approved, but I guess we're a ways away for them to be gettin' a scoldin'." The stormtroopers probably wouldn't have a sense of humor, or a sense of anything besides duty for that matter. Even if they did, their helmets showed no sign of it. So, what's the plan? Aerec shot to Darex. The Jedi Master was still calm and therefore Aerec maintained his own composure. But he was beginning to question.

Aerec's hands shot straight up in concert with his "brother's", hydrospanner similarly in hand. "Think they can help with the comm, too?" Aerec asked, matching Darex's tone. The part of his mind that wasn't focusing entirely on the role he was playing pondered these stormtroopers. He'd only seen images of them and heard tales of their efficiency...and sometimes brutality. They seemed much stranger in person. The uniform faces seemed completely lifeless, but there were voices behind them. Like droids, but with a different set of protocols and better voice imitators.

Well, at least we don't have to wear seat-belts in the backseat.

Aerec hadn't felt anything but Darex's shock and then overwhelming joy. When his master all but collapsed, the apprentice was stricken with fear: not for his master's life, but for the cover story. What if someone walked in right then? Apparently Darex was having some sort of Force-gasm, and that was not what was needed when the Jedi were being hunted. But Darex recovered and got back into character, sparing a silent thought for Aerec before getting to work on the engine. I felt you, Aerec said. What happened? They were all set to put on their performance if necessary, but below the surface, Aerec was still confused. Not afraid, for the feelings had only been positive resonating from Darex. But the reaction was stronger than the one Aerec had felt at Ilum. And Darex was the type of man to refrain from extreme reactions. Yet he had practically fallen over. Then Aerec realized that it was something he should've felt, too. No, I don't have time for this right now, Aerec scolded himself. Don't get all panicky because you're not as in tune with the Force as a Jedi Master. He put it behind him and started attempting to help his "older brother" with the engine. Still, he wondered what was going on and why he wasn't privy to it.

Ok, new plan! Aerec said through the Force after Darla's words came to them. Older brother works, right? It was a pretty big age gap, but not entirely unbelievable. Let's go fix an engine. He heard people stomping around the bedrooms and auxiliary chambers, but no one was near them yet. With a burst from the Force he found himself in the engine room. He grabbed a hydrospanner and stared at the complicated array of machinery and computers. He had no clue what he was looking at. He looked to Darex. "Dad didn't teach you anything about ship engines, did he?" Aerec said getting into character. It was like being next to Dante all over again. Being a Jedi was turning out to be pretty fun. "You always were the mechanical one." He smeared some grease onto his cheeks and in his hair just for effect, then honestly tried to figure some stuff out about the engine.

DUDE! ME TOO! Freaking 17 hours ahead SUCKS!