Tatooine

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

She was getting tired, it was going on the fourth day, and she felt she was making decent time, despite her injury from the attack. Her throat was dry, but at least she’d managed to find some of the plants that she remembered from their instruction were a fair source of drinkable water. Digging was hard with her injured shoulder, but thirst was harder. She knew if she didn’t stay as hydrated as she could, while on the move, then she’d be in trouble and no amount of Force ability could counter-act a lack of water.

 

As exhausted as she was, Mirdala knew she had to keep pushing forward. She fought down the urge, yet again, to reach out to see where Tey was. Determined she made it past the fifth marker as she saw two flares light up behind her. The instructors were closing the gap. Perhaps she wasn’t making as good of time as she thought.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

TeVerd was watching one of the more well-used tracks, trying to guess where the herd was going so he could loop around them and not get bogged down in the larger group. He was also looking for and trying to completely avoid the less savory trainees in the program.

 

He was in the process of looping around the trail using a shallow gully when a loose scraping noise off to his side caught his attention. He froze and slowly tracked his head that way.

 

"Well well. Hello, Kriia. I'd love to say this is a lovely surprise, but we both know I don't want to lie." He muttered, having noticed Mirdala's platoon-mate shadowing him.

 

The Zabrak straightened and regarded him for a minute. “What’s wrong looking for your lost girlfriend? Or did she decide you were as much dead weight as your squad and drop you?” She watched him with golden eyes. 

 

"I could point out we were simply given different start times and call it good, but I'll admit something. I've been trying not to catch up to her, because I figured if I avoided her, then I'd drag a few wasters like you away with me and give her a better chance of clocking in at a decent time." TeVerd told her mildly. "So, now that you proved how stupid you are and got so close, how do you want to play this?"

 

“I knew you were just here to make sure that she looked good with the others. The question is why? Trying to pimp out your girlfriend’s skills to the Clade? You get some kind of cut or something?” She sneered. “She couldn’t find her way out of a wet paper sack she’s probably long been eliminated. Doubt she can hold up when the pressures on and there aren’t any instructors to show off and be a pet for."

 

Tey grinned. "Nah, I just like making people like you look stupid." He cocked his head. "What's the matter, met a few instructors you couldn't get to join into your long walks in the night with the trainer teams?"

 

Her eye twitched. “Unlike your weak excuse for a girlfriend, I can actually hack this stuff. It’s a cake walk. I don’t have to sweet talk the trainers. They did seem to pay special attention to her when you weren’t around. It’s a pity I couldn’t get more of her Fist to follow my advice, otherwise they would have seen her for the pathetic waste of space she is. I think that once I take you out, I might just make her my special project.” She smiled. It wasn’t a sweet smile. 

 

TeVerd smiled. "I was hoping you'd admit that. Looks like both of us are going to miss the finish line."

 

She shrugged and made a move to step past him. “Whatever."

 

TeVerd stepped in front of her, pushing his shoulder against hers. "Why the hurry, Kriia? We haven't even had our dance yet." He shoved forward, knocking her off balance.

 

She slid a bit in the loose rocks but was able to regain her footing. She hunched low and charged him using her full weight to send them both sliding down the slight incline of the terrain. “You idiot. What the hell?"

 

"Told you," he grunted, getting his feet under him. "Neither of us is making it to the finish line." He aimed a short chop at her face, trying to keep her distracted.

 

She dropped into a low leg sweep as her eyes narrowed. "Then I guess it's just a matter of which of us winds up in the worse shape. If you think you can really take me out.” She followed up with a quick punch aimed at his jaw. 

 

He deflected her punch with his inner arm, rolling it away from himself.

 

He cocked his head at her, tsk'ing softly. "My my, I never realized how slow you actually were."

 

He shifted back into a fighting stance, arms up and ready.

 

Before she could reciprocate, he aimed a fast series of jabs and punches, more to keep her busy than expecting to land a solid hit. He followed with a vicious boot scrape to her shin.

 

She followed up with a barrage of her own until they heard the sound of someone coming up behind them.

 

"I'm both surprised, and yet strangely, not surprised," a raspy amplified voice said.

 

Both combatants looked, just in time to be dazzled as the trainer fired two volley flares into the air.

 

Before their eyes could adjust, gloved hands grabbed them and sacks were shoved over their heads.

 

"Told ya." TeVerd muttered.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

She crept carefully through the shadows sensing that she was being hunted almost. She heard a scream off to the side and began tracking away from the sound, not realizing that she was being herded towards another group of instructors stationed to grab the stragglers that had barely missed the path to the final check point.

 

"Trainee Kihadeemi," a metallic voice barked out from the brush, startling her. "You have missed the final check-point. Your navigation is off by at least one fifteenth of a map degree. You went past the time keeper three hundred meters back."

 

She waited, not quite believing she'd been found or that this wasn't a trick.

 

"But you made it into the area in under the allotted time," the voice went on. "So you are considered to have passed this exercise."

 

A spot lamp went on, and she could see a silhouette using its helmet light to make notations in a book before she was ushered to a waiting transport. She did note that TeVerd wasn't among the handful of Trainees.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala wasn't sure where she was. One minute she'd been gulping down electrolytic drink, the next a sack or tarp had been thrown over her and she'd been dragged off.

 

To insure that her sense of direction couldn't even save her, those moving her had doubled back on themselves repeatedly and wandered in a seemingly-drunken manner, before she'd been lifted out of the speeder and hauled inside somewhere.

 

She thought that was a day ago, maybe two, but she was no longer certain. The rare times she was left alone, harsh white lights had shone on her and a noise-generator was set at a pitch that kept her teeth on edge and ensured enough vaguely formed feelings of discomfort that rest was impossible.

 

In a room nearby, she thought she could hear her erst-while rival Kriia, begging and offering someone anything, even herself. It was disturbing.

 

Farther down the hall, she thought she had heard Tey roar in pain or fury once or twice, or several times.

 

How long has it been since I had last talked to him? She wondered, but not having a clue and not able to focus on the issue clearly.

 

The hardest part of all of it was not giving in to her flashbacks from her captivity at the hands of the slavers and keeping her own abilities in check. Letting her thoughts fall to Kandor helped her keep focused enough as she forced those flashbacks to progress forward to his arrival. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally kill an instructor.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Shadow and flame danced across her dreams - or was it nightmares - like intertwined lovers. The gouls of her past reared up only to be chased away by those that she now called to her side.

 

Apparently the Ancients and Ancestors, as she'd dubbed the Seeker echoes, felt the need to test and counter-test their young protege even in the midst of the hell she'd volunteered to go through.

 

Then again it could be another trick her mind was playing due to the sensory and sleep deprivation. She'd long ceased to care as she retreated further into herself, to the tucked away pocket within her mind that she'd fortified into her retreat.

 

As she ducked under one of the large fern fronds of the Shogunite jungle, a greater sense of what was real, or at least truth, began to wash over her.

 

It wasn't hard to find the spring cave from her childhood. It was all she needed to recenter herself within her inner sanctuary.

 

The sound of water led her deeper into the cave she'd first discovered when she'd run, thinking she'd upset TeVerd to the point he might leave her. At least that's how it had sounded to her three-year-old self, anyway.

 

That same incident also highlighted the same people that loved her then and that she was fighting for now.

 

There was something else she was fighting for now, she realized. In some ways it was the same battle others had been preparing her for her entire life, but now it was solelly in her own control. She was fighting for her future, not just that of the other Ageless-kin, but her own future with Kandor.

 

She leaned forward, looking into the clear waters of the spring as she felt his warm hands close over her shoulders as she knelt at the spring's edge.

 

"How?" She breathed as his lips trailed warm kisses down the base of her neck.

 

"We both know I'm not really here, but at the same time you know we are connected Cyar'ika," he intoned, his voice close to her ear. "It's how you knew I needed your help on Enigma."

 

She turned to face him, shocked to see him in a similar tunic set that he'd worn when she'd entered his mind. Looking down, she was dressed in the same white, wrapped tunic and pants she’d worn in his vision.

 

His hand reached up to brush away a stray strand of hair from her face as he continued, "We are bound, you and I, Mird'ika. You've suspected it for a while now and I know it scares you. Trust in yourself and trust in me. The Manda brought us together for a reason. Trust that things are unfolding as they should."

 

She pulled away from his figure in her mind. He was right. She could sense the bond between them growing; she just wasn't sure what it meant or whether to tell him about it. She wasn't even sure she wanted to acknowledge the weight of "destined" or "fate" applied to what she was only just beginning to admit to herself she felt for the real version of the man before her.

 

Was the bond something that had come before their partnership or had developed as a result of it and their love? Did it matter?

 

As much as she desperately wanted to reach out, just to check on him, she restrained herself as she remembered this could all be some sort of hallucination in an effort to get her to crack and reveal whatever secrets she held. She missed Kandor so much and wanted all of this said and done with so she could get back to being at his side, whatever that meant between the two of them.

 

TeVerd had warned her to bury her feelings for Kandor deep before they embarked on this training cycle. She'd done so well for so long that she felt she was warranted this indulgence.

 

"You know," her mental manifestation of Kandor intoned, knowing full well the thoughts that were chasing themselves through his love's rarely quiet mind. "There is a time to quit holding your past mistakes against yourself and against us."

 

He pulled her to stand with him as he drew her close and kissed her.

 

"Time to return to the land of the living, young lady," she vaguely heard a seemingly-familiar voice command her, gentle but firm.

 

 

Nek? She thought for a moment, but then her brain remembered that Nek would be nowhere nearby. At least, not if TeVerd had been honest with her, and she had no reason to doubt him.

 

After what had amounted to days long interrogation and torture sessions, she now realized what the mercenary in her dream about being held hostage by the Sivaaras had meant, and what Tey had constantly tried to make her realize.

 

Real professionals could be insidious in their manner. Even while they were degrading and hurting you, they could make you believe they were the only honest ones in the Galaxy.

 

She shuddered. She had half-formed and vague impressions of what the process had been like. She didn't know which were real, and which were hallucinations.

 

Save the last one, she didn't want to know.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

She emerged from the medical tent and headed in the direction of the mess tent, more out of habit than the desire to eat. Her stomach was still roiling and she wasn't sure anything would stay down if she tried.

 

"If you're feeling up to it, trooper, please join us over here." A voice ordered her just before she could walk into the mess hall.

 

She looked up to see an instructor she didn't recognize beckoning her.

 

Her gut tightened in anxiety for a moment before she noticed the brassard on his arm that designated a member of the healing specialists.

 

To be honest with herself, she wasn't feeling up to it, but she wasn't really sure she had anything better to do. She found her feet absently changing their course towards the instructor. Out of instinct, she felt herself shut down completely as though she was bracing herself for another trap, still not trusting he situation.

 

As she entered the small tent, she saw a number of instructors sitting at a table near a fire kettle, heavy hide-wrapped books on the table in front of them along with small stacks of flimsi. She recognized the armor of some of the warriors, and felt there was something familiar about two of the others.

 

The healer gestured to the stool at one end of the table

 

"Welcome to The Clade, Trooper Kihadeemi," began the one she recognized as the commander of her training company, sitting at the other end of the table. The woman had a rough guttural voice that Mirdala felt belonged to someone who rarely used Basic. "And yes, you are now 'Trooper' and not 'Candidate'." She paused. "You have passed our selection process, having met or slightly exceeded all the parameters we set before you."

 

She slid a small metallic disk down the table, one of the other trainers finishing its journey to a spot in front of Mirdala. "You may mount that somewhere on your primary armor, or simply keep it with you to be presented to another of our Kindred as needed."

 

She gestured. "We are, all of us, aware of your, shall we say ‘unconventional', status amongst our trainees." She noticed the slight gesture of surprise on Mirdala's part. "Your secret is safe, young lady. None amongst this circle will ever willingly discuss you outside of this tent."

 

Raising her eyebrow, Mirdala accepted the token. “Appreciated.” She examined the sigil, trying to process whether or not this was real. The metal in her hand felt real enough. Her mind began to whirl with questions, but she bit them back for now and settled for probing about Tey’s status. “My partner? Drurian?” She figured that she’d feel more settled once she saw him.

 

"He's in the clinic alongside a trainee Truth Finder," One of the ones wearing a medical arm band said in a familiar voice. "The interrogator used the wrong technique." He held up one hand. "Your partner will be fine, but the interrogator will probably never leave the healing tables. An example to others of not rushing the process without a price."

 

The company commander spoke up. "You can go see him as soon as we've finished here. You may have presumed that this was another part of the SERE program. But as I told you, you passed the exercise. This constitutes your graduation ceremony. We also conducted a medical debrief on you as you were waking up."

 

She nodded, swallowing. “I would like to see him then, as soon as possible. What is needed of me?"

 

"Nothing. Just to graduate you from the basic training regime and move you to the advanced company. For the next few days, continue as you have been while you're still around some of your former training mates. Then someone will start training you to do some of what we just did to you. All of those instructors will know the truth, so you won't have to be guarded so much when that starts," one of the others said. Mirdala felt like he should be familiar to her, as well.

 

He gestured to the healer. "Saerkitan can take you to the healing tents now."

 

“Thank you,” she said genuinely as she rose to follow the healer back to the medical tent as she tried to place why some of the others in the room had felt so familiar to her other than her immediate instructor.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Mod okay'd double-post.))

 

TeVerd looked up from the hide-cased journal he was perusing when his guests walked in.

 

"Great, great," He muttered as Mirdala walked up with one of the medics. "I guess they better add another dose of shock treatment drugs now."

 

“It’s actually me this time,” she answered gently, trying not to think about what he’d undergone during his stint in the hands of the Truth Finders. She cast another glance back at, the medic, Saerkitan, still not quite able to shake the way his presence was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

 

TeVerd glanced at her a minute before closing the book, apparently deciding she wasn’t another hallucination. He didn’t miss the the way she was looking at the man who had brought her in, evaluating him.

 

Looking up at the armored medic, he nodded. Mirdala got the sense of communion between them.

 

The medic looked around, pulling the noise-baffling fabric around the cubicle to make sure no sounds got out. Then, he took off his helmet, giving Mirdala a close look at a heavily lined but otherwise very recognizable face.

 

“I’d wondered!" She gasped, staring at the man.

 

"Dika, meet Saerkitan, one of the many Ageless-kin who decided against taking on a Mandalorian identity." TeVerd laughed. "And one of the soldiers who finessed our access to their training methods and interrogation techniques."

 

"Well, I prefer to think of myself as the one who puts people together, not the one who enables them to go get shot to bits in the first place, but needs must." The medic had a voice and build much like Vy'ikas, and Mirdala noticed a faint hint of double slash-mark like birthmarks on one side of his face.

 

"Better them than us," she extended her arm in greeting before turning back to Tey. "You okay?" She gave him a gentle, but subtle nudge.

 

"Don't I look okay?" He shrugged. "I agreed to help them train some of their interrogators, and one of them learned the hard way that there's a reason for the methodology professionals use."

 

“Which I guess is the next phase,” She said matter-of-factly, leaning against the edge of the medical bed. “And just because you look okay doesn’t mean that you are. Been there, done that myself, remember?"

 

He sighed and shook his head at his daughter. "I'm exhausted, but otherwise fine. Unlike you, I have had more than a lifetime to learn how to limit the pain and damage from that kind of fight." TeVerd said smugly.

 

She looked at him a moment, before hugging him. It helped center her and grounded this as truly being something real. After everything that she’d endured the last however many days they’d held her, and everything they’d manipulated her into believing, she was more than grateful that Tey hadn’t been the one to put her through it.

 

Their bond was strong, but not nearly as strong as it had been when she was growing up. In a lot of ways the two of them were getting to know one another all over again. She was learning to see him though the eyes of adulthood and he was learning more about the woman she’d grown into.

 

As she hugged him, she cautiously began to open herself up little by little to let their bond help steady her even further.

 

TeVerd patted her back gently. "Get yourself sorted, Mird'ika. In a way, what's coming next is going to be harder than what's come before. Or at least, it should be."

 

Especially since I’ve spent most of my life avoiding hurting those that didn’t deserve it first, she thought to herself.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Just going to wrap things up here. Yay for training...))

 

Mirdala sat down with the cup of strong tea that Searkitan had handed her, shuddering.

 

She had gotten all too curious about the final standing of her erstwhile rival, Kriia, and her instructors had finally indulged her.

 

The sight of the otherwise tough Zabrak stuck in a padded cell, restrained for her own safety, muttering to herself, had almost been more than Mirdala felt she could handle.

 

On the positive side, or at least more pleasantly interesting, had been encountering two more Ageless-kin, both related to TeVerd in some way.

 

There had been Javvin, an Omicron who had been doing security at the administration camp the day she and TeVerd had arrived. He'd seemed to be rather curious about someone who had not-quite detected his subtle scans of her that day.

 

Another had been Tegrine, who she tried to rank in the number of “greats" she mentally appended his biological status of "TeVerd's grand-nephew".

 

When she'd asked TeVerd about him, he'd simply told her that he was "the legacy of one of my Father's less-inspired choices of plaything."

 

"So I'm going to get to learn another way to potentially turn someone else's mind to mush?"

 

"You can't always have someone else do your dirty work for you, ad'ika." Tey said crossing his arms.

 

"I know, I know," she sighed. "'Don't ask someone to do something if you're not willing to do it yourself.'"

 

"Yes, you're going to learn to make someone doubt their sanity or safety, or learn to enjoy pain. And you're going to train part of your brain to like it." TeVerd said flatly.

 

I asked for this, she reminded herself, sighing as she nodded her head.

 

"And you're going to learn some of it from another Omicron. You won't like that, because he'll really know if you're not doing it right." Tey said. "And he'll keep at it until you do."

 

"Since when have you ever let me get away with doing anything half-way." She gave him a half smile as she pushed the thoughts of Kriia out of her mind. "On to the next phase then?"

 

"Unfortunately," Tey nodded grimly.

-------------------------------

 

"It's never actually pleasant, is it? Nor should it be, I guess." Mirdala said to Javvin, sitting at the side of his desk as the Ageless-hybrid scrawled notes in a heavy book. She'd just finished a lengthy session with the man teaching her how to develop a rapport with certain types of prisoners. The man had carefully walked her, step by nauseating step, through mental exercises to allow her to trick part of herself into wanting her victim to enjoy the interrogation.

 

"Hmm." Javvin answered her, distracted. After a moment, he set his stylo down and looked at her. "Depends on how sick and broken your own view of the world is. I've met more than a few interrogators in my time who genuinely want their targets to enjoy being targets and victims. Not just a facade designed to build a rapport, they really feel deep inside that whoever they're focused on should enjoy the process of being broken down."

 

He shrugged. "Obviously, not the kind of creature any group with a half-way functional moral compass would want in their service, but plenty of tyrants, gang bosses, and even a few governments who have fallen to expediency, find use for abnormal people like that."

 

“I guess there’s a place for everyone in this galaxy,” she remarked sardonically. She took another deep breath and began again with the mental exercises Javvin had showed her.

 

"Even if you have to make a niche for yourself," The Omicron smirked. "You can learn the right lessons from the wrong people, even so."

 

--------------

 

Finally, at long last, she was shouldering her bag for the long walk back to the transit station with TeVerd after saying her goodbyes and thanks to her instructors. He hadn't exaggerated how tough the training had been, but she also knew it was meant not only as skill building and reinforcement for her, but a test of her willingness to do what must be done along the path as a Seeker.

 

She was even more resolved to keep meeting the challenge. Her family and future were at stake.

[Moon Knight]

The Justice rocketed out of hyperspace over Tatooine. Since the Enigma station had brought them most of the way while they slept and packed, they'd made excellent time. The station remained now above the galactic plane, which gave it some advantages in plotting efficient hyperspace jumps, as intergalactic stars were relatively infrequent. What time they'd had Fett had spent becoming more accustomed to his new implant, linking it up to Mirdala's over the same private frequency they'd been using for years and practicing some basic commands like interfacing with shipboard systems with some help from 2277.

 

Presently he piloted the distinctly-Mandalorian craft down towards the vast Dune Sea, to a place that seemed like any other patch of uniform desert. There he nestled the ship down behind one of the infinite dunes, its landing gear sinking into the loose sand before the weight of the vessel compacted enough of it to make a firm resting place.

 

Lowering the ship's boarding ramp, Moon Knight gestured to his wife and headed out into the sweltering heat of the binary suns, picking his way up and over the crest of the nearest dune before descending down the treacherous slope on the far side. As he did, a rumbling began at first faintly but then grew, and up from beneath the sands emerged a long white spire topped with a solid diamond in the shape of a crescent moon that resembled the insignia Fett wore on his beskar'gam. Following the main spire were several other lesser ones, then the main body of the structure followed, white marble that rivaled the suns in brilliance.

 

Kandor's stride remained unbroken as he moved purposefully toward it even before its surfacing was complete. The Enigma might have been his home, but this was the place most secret and most sacred to him.

 

As a rule, he knew even Mirdala was not supposed to come inside with him. It was a place only for Moon Knights, and the last that had trespassed had died by his hand. But the instruction that he had been given was strictly that he was supposed to protect the Temple, and as it had nothing to fear from his wife, it would abide her presence because he willed it. "Come on inside," he told her. "There is nothing to fear from this place."

 

Inside they found alabaster halls, some dark and others full of silvery moonlight. The structure seemed enormous from the inside, far larger than it had appeared above the sands. There was a timeless tradition about it, sacred walls carved before the rise of the Republic by some unknown and incomprehensible Ancient whose nature even Moon Knight was not privileged to know. The passages and rooms were cool, in sharp contrast with the blistering heat of the desert beyond the walls.

 

Fett walked towards the central chamber, an enormous crypt lined with thousands of shelves bearing thousands of sarcophagi, each one marked with the symbol of the crescent moon. In the center was an altar, and above them they could see Tatooine's greatest moon, Ghomrassen, shining a singular beam down to fall upon the pedestal which Fett now approached.

 

"Marc?" he spoke, but there was no answer. The halls were still.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Suggested listening))

 

Knowing they were heading back to Tatooine, Mirdala had opted for a pair of cargo pants, a good set of boots, her usual black tank, and a scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders to shield from the suns rather than her armor. Her kukris, blasters were at her hips and her beskar staff was extended and strapped to her back. She wasn't sure why, but knowing their destination was the Temple of the Moon had given her pause about showing up in full beskar'gam ready for war. Anytime Kandor had spoken to her about the temple, it had been with a totally reverent tone. This wasn't just some other safe haven for him, it was more than that to him.

 

He helped her down the steep and treacherous dunes until a low rumbling caused Mirdala to loose her footing and grab on to him for balance as the wind whipped up, tugging at the scarf and the few strands of hair that had come loose from her braids. As the temple rose, Mirdala couldn't help but take a step back in awe of bearing witness to such a thing. Part of her knew there was much in the galaxy that was either unknown or long forgotten in the great march of races and civilizations that sprung up from the surface of any given world, but to actually get to bear witness to something few had ever been permitted to see was a humbling experience.

 

Shielding her eyes against the glare of the alabaster surface in light of the late afternoon binary suns, Kandor's movement towards the temple and away from her side prompted her to follow. At the entrance, there was an undercurrent she could sense that gave her pause in crossing the threshold. Sensing her hesitation, he stopped just inside the entrance and extended his hand to her even as his words reassured her that she had nothing to fear from the temple.

 

Taking his hand she stepped inside the temple, the hot, dry desert air replaced instantly by a cooler night breeze that seemed to come from nowhere within the temple. The whole place seemed, to Mirdala at least, weighty with unseen presences. She also felt strangely energized as she followed Kandor through the larger than expected chambers. This place had an aura about it that Mirdala could not readily identify through what she knew of the Force, or even what she could sense empathically. She'd opted to leave Vi'ika behind on the ship, not sure what the temple would hold or how it would affect her canine companion.

 

Silvery moonlight from Tatooine's moon, Ghomrassen (a name she only knew because Kandor had told her), shone down on a white stone pedestal and she found herself hanging back just from entering the crypt out of respect for a place she really wasn't sure she was supposed to be. Kandor's voice echoed eerily as he called out for one of the few Moon Knights she'd known the name of. Her jade eyes shone as they roved over the thousands of sarcophagi that seemed to stretch on forever and wondered if this is where they came to rest once they'd given their lives upholding the Moon Knight oaths. It wasn't a thought she wanted to dwell on.

 

There was no answer for Kandor it seemed, so she cautiously took a step towards him, as though expecting any one of the resting warriors to rise and bar her way to Kandor. A massive hand being placed on her shoulder, caused her to jump in surprise and whirl around, kukri's drawn out of impulse.

 

"Easy Kih’edeemise," the large man looked down at her with his own glowing green eyes and held his hands up in surrender.

 

The ensuing silence was shattered by the sound of Mirdala's kukri's hitting the floor with a clatter. Her back was to Kandor and the altar as her hands closed around her mouth in disbelief with what she was seeing. There was no way this was possible. Her uncle, Hwulf Ad'Nort was dead. TeVerd had said she wouldn't see him in the Manda unless he wanted her to and to leave him to his rest.

 

There was no way she was asleep right now and there was no way she'd tapped into the Manda while awake. He was too solid to be any sort of Force ghost, she thought at least.

 

She moved away from him not trusting whatever illusion the temple was putting forth. Was this some sort of defense she'd triggered by interrupting Kandor in the main chamber? In shock she found herself by his side, demanding to know what was happening as she leveled a finger at the moonlit form of Hwulf Ad'Nort. "W-what's happening? Kandor? What is this?"

[Moon Knight]

Moon Knight looked up at the enormous Ageless who not only dwarfed Mirdala, but would even make TeVerd look small. He did not recognize the being, but he had a pretty good guess what was happening.

 

"The Temple lies between the realm of the living and the dead... whether you choose to call it the Force, the spiritual realm, or the Manda," he said. "The moonlight reveals their spirits, and it seems you have brought your Seeker ghosts with you. I suspect my own advisors are nearby."

 

Even as he spoke, he looked across the broad room, which was partitioned by streams of moonlight coming in through windows and reflecting off of tall mirrors. In the moonbeams they could see a small host of white specters proceeding towards them, their forms winking out of sight again as they crossed the expanse between the light's silvery columns. As Kandor watched them, he recognized each one. Sentra Antilles. Luke Alogain. Renn Falador. The list went on. Each face was tied to a hundred stories. He knew their greatest victories and their ultimate defeats, their lifetimes of pain and hardship and triumph and happiness. Each in the line before him had eventually fallen or passed on their power to their successor, and there was honor in both.

 

They were in no particular rush to get to Fett, it seemed. He turned back to the Ageless spirit and Mirdala. "Would you like to introduce us?" he asked his wife.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala turned to her husband in disbelief feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end before she turned back to the nearly nine-foot Hwulf and back to look at the advancing figures in white robes. Her eyes fell again to Kandor's golden brown gaze, steady and certain, as her mind reeled trying to fathom it all. Somehow, it had never bothered her to see and talk with her ghosts in her dreams, but to readily see them...to have felt the gentle weight of Hwulf's hand on her small shoulder moments before...That was a different experience entirely.

 

"Udesii, Kih’edeemise," The large figure bearing a striking resemblance to Taen Ad'Nort gently intoned to the young woman. "We didn't mean to frighten you."

 

"We!?" Mirdala asked spinning back to her uncle and trying unsuccessfully to see past him.

 

Hwulf merely smiled gently down at her and stepped aside, gesturing to the other figures as they, too, emerged into the moonlight. The first was a man slightly shorter than Hwulf, though with grey fur instead of a light tan. It took Mirdala a long moment to place the only slightly familiar figure as being TeVerd's father, only ever having "met" the man once before his death, and even she hadn't been sure if she'd dreamed the experience or if he'd really paid her visit.

 

The next to emerge was Carid, another Ageless like the first two, and one Kandor knew as being another of the Seekers Mirdala had been close to while he'd been alive. The three stood before her stoically, but she heard another two sets of footfalls on the path towards the altar. By this point, Mirdala's hands had started shaking slightly and she fell to her knees when the two figures of Jorbe and Cyare brushed past Hwulf and Carid and embraced their daughter, bringing Mirdala back to her feet.

 

It was several moments before Mirdala could find her voice enough to identify each individual to Kandor and it took stepping back beside him and feeling the reassuring arm around her waist to bring her back to the present enough to actually speak.

 

"These," she indicated Jorbe and Cyare, "are my parents, Taen's father, Hwulf, my other uncle and teacher, Carid. And..." she paused, still unsure of how to introduce the other Seeker.

 

"Kaille," he answered gruffly. "You're more familiar with my son, who goes by TeVerd these last few centuries." He waved a massive hand. "Ba'buir works as well."

 

Mirdala nodded. "Everyone...this is my husband Kandor," she looked up at him, then over his shoulder at the mass of white figures that were considerably closer to the alter now. "He's got ghosts of his own apparently."

[Moon Knight]

Looking at each of the spirits as they were introduced, Moon Knight recalled what he had been told about them. Carid had been an ally of TeVerd, and had been the one under whom Fieyr had begun his tutelage, before his jealously and arrogance overtook him. Hwulf was the patriarch of the Ad'Nort aliit, the husband of Laesha and the buir of Taen, Aluir, Vannae, Tannae, Tresha, and Valyin. He would have been like an uncle to Mirdala. TeVerd's buir was in a large part responsible for the involvement of the Omicrons in the events of the last year. And Jorbe and Cyare... he and Mirdala had just heard Viba's account of their deaths. Kandor could not imagine what Mirdala must feel to see them again in this place. Of those gathered, Jorbe and Cyare were the only ones who were not Seekers.

 

"It's an honor to meet you all," he said. He had never expected to meet his wife's parents, certainly not in the Temple of the Moon, but the mysteries of the universe had a way of revealing themselves in places like this. He met Jorbe's eye, then Cyare's. "I hope I can say that your deaths have finally been avenged, and that question is partially responsible for bringing us here."

 

"We are surprised you did not return here sooner," a voice said. Moon Knight turned and saw that a council of his predecessors had formed upon the dais. Not nearly as numerous as the thousands he knew existed, it was still the first contact he'd had with anything but their memories since the RAGE incident.

 

"I'm here now," Fett answered. "Is Marc not among you?"

 

"Marc has passed on, for now," one of the shining white spirits said. This was Jarad Roda, a Jedi Master and one that had in life made limited contact with the Seekers or some like them, upon whose memories Fett had based his initial idea of what a Seeker was. The apparition eyed Mirdala and her associates, but did not otherwise acknowledge them. "When the RAGE was purged from your body, he observed what you became and decided that his guidance you no longer needed."

 

The current Moon Knight regarded him. "I need to know why the visions then stopped, and if what happened last night was a new one."

 

Jarad looked at him patiently. "Marc Spector was to you what we call an interpreter," he said. "He conveyed new information from us to your mind."

 

"He was in some of my visions, but not all of them," Fett said.

 

"Many of them originated from one of us," Roda explained. "A purely voluntary function for a post-life Moon Knight, for when we are not satisfied to rest."

 

"Without Marc, I can receive no visions?"

 

"We can teach you how to open your mind to a new interpreter, if you wish," one of the other specters answered. "But it is very unlikely that anything you saw since his departure came from one of us."

 

Moon Knight took a deep breath and let it out. Kelborn must have really done a number on him, that a mere nightmare had sent him all the way out to Tatooine. But this trip could be productive still, if he could restore the visions while giving Mirdala some time to interact with her own counselors. "I am willing to learn," he replied. "There is no doubt that the visions aid my ability to uphold my oath."

 

The ghost nodded. "Then see to your guests while we prepare." Immediately he and those with him vanished, the chamber dimming.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Suggested listening))

 

Mirdala felt a chill run down her spine that had little to do with the chamber's ambient temperature as she turned to face the assembled mass of spirits side by side with her husband. She believed Kandor that she had little to fear from the spirits, but it was hard to shake the distinct feeling that she was not welcome, especially in light of the additional "guests" she'd brought in with her. Her keen eyes didn't miss the way the Moon Knight that addressed Kandor would occasionally look past them both and eyed them with what might only be described as grudging respect mixed with a bit of thinly veiled contempt.

 

She didn't get a chance to ask as the spirits of the Moon Knights vanished leaving her, Kandor, and her family ghosts present.

 

"So...Does this actually confirm that Viba is dead?" Mirdala asked looking from Kandor to her parents. "Or just that we're both still in the middle of processing the osik buurenaar that was Nubia?"

 

Cyare put her hand on her daughter's shoulder reassuringly. "Mird'ika," she began, sadness and compassion evident her her own green eyes, "you've endured so much..."

 

"And I wouldn't take back a minute of it, buir," Mirdala was quick to respond, taking her mother's hand from her shoulder, but not releasing it. "Well maybe a truly horrible minute here and there, if I'm being honest, but everything has been leading me to something greater than myself." She turned to her father, Jorbe. "You always said I had these special gifts for a reason. Look where they've lead me," she cast her arms wide in explanation.

 

Jorbe looked at his daughter and then past her to Kandor. "Whatever happened with Viba, it was enough that Mirdala now feels better about letting us go. The Manda does not speak to my wife or myself the way it does our daughter. We have no way of knowing."

 

"Yeah, that particular amoral hut'uun is done. Tend to remember the one that takes you out," Hwulf remarked gruffly as he rubbed absently at his chest.

 

Carid gave a grim nod. "Should have jettisoned the brat the first time he started in on Mirdala. Should've known something was up the way he'd try to steer any conversation to being about her. Saved us all a lot of trouble, I think."

 

"Wait, what?" Mirdala asked, turning to face him. His spots darkened and he gave an ancient curse, then sighed.

 

"Cat's out of the bag now, vrossiche," Hwulf shrugged, using the archaic version of 'sword-brother'.

 

"Fieyr took a keen interest in you almost from the moment I started teaching him," Carid explained. "At the time I dismissed it as him having a crush, I didn't begin to suspect it was something far more dangerous until later on."

 

"You mean when he attacked me?" She blinked at him a few times, trying to process what she was hearing.

 

The Ageless nodded slowly. "Had I known what he had planned or what he'd learned behind my back from that traitor, he never would have seen the system again."

 

"His actions were hardly your fault Carid," Mirdala began, but stopped as the man held up his hand.

 

"I know. But my offense was not paying enough attention to my own instincts and that resulted in us almost losing you and, though much later, my losing my life when I stupidly thought I could talk some sense into the boy. Do you understand, Mird'ika?"

 

The woman silently regarded Carid for a moment, then nodded.

 

"What do you make of what's been happening in the sector?" TeVerd's father, Kaille, interjected both changing the subject and looking directly at Kandor, though his expression gave the distinct impression that he wasn't asking him as his grandson-in-law.

[Moon Knight]

"It confirms that what I experienced was just an ordinary nightmare," Kandor told his wife when she asked for verification of her torturer's death. "He sure seemed dead to me." He wasn't in the habit of leaving his enemies for dead. The ship's scanners had double-checked on their way out. The only way Viba could have survived is if he'd been resuscitated later, and the possibilities of doing that after being dead for so long were pretty slim.

 

Moon Knight continued to watch the interactions between Mirdala and her ghosts for a moment and was struck with a moment of perspective when she pointed out where her life and abilities had brought her. They stood now, a married couple, in pocket dimension among the sands of Tatooine, each having brought their own spirits and ghosts to convene and discuss as though in the flesh. Though they had risen from humble beginnings, they had made much of themselves, and now there loomed before them what could be their greatest triumph yet or their ultimate defeat.

 

"It's building up to something," Mand'alor answered Kaille. "There's no reason Ab'ki would turn all of her moles and sleeper agents loose unless she either didn't need them anymore or she was softening up her target."

 

Suddenly the ghost council of Moon Knights manifested again. "For what lies ahead you must be prepared most of all," one of them -- a female Twi'lek Moon Knight from twelve thousand years before the Mandalorian Wars named Allis Hett -- said. Despite having been a resident of the oyu'baat for sixteen millennia, she appeared as she had been when she died in her late twenties, just a year after becoming Moon Knight. "You must not be afraid to lead when called upon. I will help you in any way I can as your new interpreter."

 

Kandor nodded. The blue-skinned Twi'lek had been far enough back that he could only remember the major events of her life. But her pursuit of her oath had been tremendously earnest, and her desire to make a difference had been so great that she had gone willingly to her death for the cause. It made sense that she would be driven to continue to serve in this capacity. He also vaguely remembered what it was like to have lekku, now that he thought about it. "I understand," he replied. "What is it I need to learn?"

 

"Only to open your mind to me," Allis answered. "Close your eyes for a moment."

 

Fett obeyed. Allis walked up to him and put her hands on his shoulders, and the moonlight in the room intensified. "Do you see?" she asked.

 

"Yes," Moon Knight answered after a moment, brow furrowed in concentration.

 

The moonlight faded and Allis stepped back. "Then we are done," she said. "Be mindful of what has been said here. We will be in touch."

 

The ghosts faded again, but for Jarad Roda, who lingered and seemed to be studying Hwulf. "Thousands of years ago, I encountered your kind. Though we did not get along at the time, I was impressed by your dedication and skill." He looked at Fett. "It is good that you have made allies of them. That you have brought your wife here reflects the very trait that has made you beyond Marc's counsel. There remains much in store for you to accomplish, and you may yet succeed if you hold fast to it."

 

Then he too was gone.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala nodded at her husband when he mentioned the build up that Ab'ki's actions had hinted at as of late. From turning loose her agents within the sector, to openly declaring her personal war on Mirdala with a carefully laid trap on some backwater world. There was no doubt in Mirdala's mind that Ab'ki had intended for her to stumble on Ca's lightsaber alone, or at the very least not with anyone that would be able to do anything about the psychic Force attack.

 

A slow smile curled the side of her mouth as she realized something in that moment, The Sith doesn't know about my brothers and what they're capable of. She's underestimated the size of the opposition that truly poses a threat to her and her kind.

 

Mirdala kept quiet, though, as the white-robed figures materialized around them once more, one of them an indigo-skinned Twi'lek woman stepped forward to address Kandor. Watching quietly as her husband completed the ritual that would enable him to receive visions once more, Mirdala could feel a slight stirring in the Force around her as the woman appeared to transfer some kind of knowledge or vision to Kandor.

 

Eventually all but one of the ghosts remained, the one from before that had been regarding Hwulf, Kaille, and Carid with thinly veiled vitriol. "Thousands of years ago, I encountered your kind." He began, "Though we did not get along at the time, I was impressed by your dedication and skill." He looked at Fett. "It is good that you have made allies of them. That you have brought your wife here reflects the very trait that has made you beyond Marc's counsel. There remains much in store for you to accomplish, and you may yet succeed if you hold fast to it."

 

"The haran did that mean, I wonder?" Mirdala asked quietly, considering the implications of such an alliance.

 

"Who knows?” Kaille shrugged. “More than once in our history Force Users of either stripe have come to our sector and attempted to bring us to heel or ‘liberate’ for their own purposes and ends. Long have our people been a resource others have sought out and not always been willing to do so in a fair manner. It is a reason those like us have existed and continue to protect the sector from those of their kind that threaten our way of life.”

 

Kandor indicated that the group might move to one of the side rooms where there was ample moonlight to keep Mirdala’s ghostly guests in view and comfortable cushions to sit on while they chatted. There was something to his wife’s mannerisms that let him know she wasn’t in such a rush to leave her parents just yet.

 

When she sat down, Jorbe and Cyare took the spots on either side of their daughter, leaving the cushions opposite open for Kandor, Kaille, Carid, and Hwulf. It was apparent to those that knew her well that a thousand questions seemed to be jockeying for their chance to pass her lips as she began and stopped a few times before settling on the one she’d wondered about since her less-than-amicable parting with Kandor on Enigma what seemed like ages ago, but had only been a few months shy of a year and a half. “Why didn’t you ever tell me I was adopted?”

Jorbe looked over his daughter’s head at his wife before he put his arm around Mirdala’s shoulders. “Would it have mattered? Didn’t make you any less ours. What did you think of the life not lived?” he countered.

 

Mirdala was quiet for a long moment, before shaking her head. “No regrets. Even remotely. Turns out my gene donors are horrible vile people. Nevermind they killed Hwulf, the rest of their original Abraxos team, and nearly took TeVerd out.”

 

“Oh really?” Hwulf piped up with some interest. “Tell me, do they still breathe?”

 

Mirdala shook her head. “The Sivaara family and BakToid has marginally atoned for their crimes, as much as we could get away with without completely revealing ourselves or this damned shadow war to the rest of the galaxy.”

 

“I do have one question though, Buir,” she paused, glancing at Kandor. “I know I was some sort of experiment from the BakToid labs, but I don’t know how I came to you. Did you somehow find out what they were up to and take me? I’ve heard rumors of a raid, but you’ve never been off-planet. Viba…” she swallowed at the name, a slight shudder running through her. “Viba mentioned something about you stealing from BakToid. I was there...when he was…” she broke off again, unable to say the words for fear of triggering the memories again. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to help.”

 

Cyare and Jorbe enveloped their daughter in a tight hug. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Dika,” Jorbe gently promised. “I don’t wish to even consider what would have happened had we not fought that morning and you ran off. Don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you’d been working in the shop like you normally did when that man came calling. The Manda, Force, or whatever you want to call it guided us that day. Our time to protect you was coming to a close as you were nearly an adult and there would have been little either your mother or I could have done to keep you from going after TeVerd on your own, then.”

 

“Your father’s right cyar’ika,” Cyare agreed. “You said so yourself that you didn’t regret where your life’s path had lead you. You wouldn’t likely still be around or worse if he’d grabbed you that day.”

 

Mirdala nodded, conceding their points and opened her mouth to say something else when Jorbe held up his hand.

 

“That still doesn’t answer your original question of how you came to be ours,” he acknowledged, noting that the other Seekers were leaning in with some interest, having not ever gotten the full story either, even the two that had known Mirdala when she was younger.

 

Jorbe sighed, scratched the back of his head and began. He told of the Cestian raid he’d gone on with Soresh’s father, Erich, in an effort to raise the funds to start a life for him and Cyare away from her mother’s household, and possibly even open up his own blacksmith’s shop to support them. It was in the aftermath of the raid that he found her, and later decided to adopt her as his and Cyare’s daughter.

 

-----

 

As Jorbe concluded his tale with the family’s subsequent move to Shogun, Kaille shifted slightly. “Your farm...about five clicks northwest of the main part of Tikkel?”

 

Jorbe nodded. “Yes. Why?”

 

A large grin spread across the pure-blood Ageless’s face. “No wonder your little one ran into my son. That whole area was part of our clan’s trust for safekeeping. It’s one place that boy could always ground himself.” His bellowing laugh filled the chamber and echoed through the temple. “The Manda does have a way of looking out for itself and the Mandalorian people!”

[Moon Knight]

Kandor listened to the story unfold with interest. He'd asked before about how Jorbe had come to adopt Mirdala, but no one had known the full story except for the dead. And now it was the dead that related it to them. There was a Mandalorian saying -- nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la -- which translated roughly to "not dead, merely marching far away". The words were usually said as a tribute and an acknowledgement that the departed would be remembered, but the presence of these spirits indicated that there was a literal truth in them.

 

There was still something sobering about the story, knowing that not only had Ab'ki and Viba gotten to Jorbe and Cyare, but she'd also found several of the other principle actors, who were now buried on Soresh's farm on Concord Dawn where they'd been staying. The tale also provided a more concrete link between Soresh and Mirdala, Soresh being the son of Erich Delavvo.

 

The other thing he noted during the conversation, now that Mirdala's buire got his full attention, was that they bore a coincidental resemblance to her. He supposed it had helped her not stick out, and had led to her not knowing she'd been adopted at all until much later, when she'd begun investigating the Sivaara family.

 

At the end, Kaille filled in yet other detail he'd been missing -- just how Mirdala and TeVerd had come upon each other. It was as simple as he'd thought it had been. TeVerd had merely been in the area, and perhaps because of the fact that both he and Mirdala were empaths, she'd been drawn to him. Mirdala's childhood had really formed based on the good will of two Mando'ade, both having seen a child who needed their help and both stepping up to provide it. Kandor respected them tremendously for it, and wondered if someday he would also be called to act as they had.

 

So much had had to happen to bring he and his wife together, but perhaps there were no coincidences.

 

"That it does," he agreed with the ancient Ageless. "And I suspect bringing us all here is just another way of doing that." He knew how much good this must have been doing for Mirdala... that, the restoration of the visions, and the counsel they'd received painted a picture.

 

"Maybe you can tell me a bit more about the Seekers," he said. "Feels like I'm still missing some of the story. You're an ancient order sworn to protect the Mandalore Sector against all threats. But what is the link between the Seekers, the Ageless, and empaths?"

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Suggested Listening))

 

Kandor's answer did not come from one of the three assembled Ageless before him as a clack, clack, clack echoed throughout the temple growing louder until another figure stood in the doorway to the chamber, its hand gripping a deadly-looking hooked polearm, head covered by a black armored cowl. Armored in spiny organic-seeming armor, their face was covered by a flat mask with merely a slit for viewing the world outside of the armor. Mirdala stiffened slightly as she recognized this particular ghost who was the ancient chieftess that her hometown of Tikkel had been named after.

 

"Takkoral, nice of you to join us in time for the history lesson," Hwulf smiled at the newcomer. (The town name had derived from a Taungese mispronunciation of her name.)

 

The female Ageless inclined her head in Hwulf's direction but her gaze fell squarely on Mirdala and Kandor. "You wish to know more about your new found allies, is that correct Manda'lor? Or perhaps it is more personal than that? Like what this woman you've married is becoming? What darkness might your new wife cross in the name of her oaths perhaps?"

 

"Watch." The figure purred, extending the polearm into the air between the humans and Ageless. In the air formed a huge circle that looked something like razor wire.

 

"An early clan symbol if I remember right," Mirdala explained quietly. "It represents each clan's duty and bond during times of war."

 

Takkoral nodded approvingly. "Indeed child." The ring before them split into five separate ones in a vertical line. "One ring for each of the five clan groups of Ageless, the initial heirs to the Legacy left by the Taungese." Then each ring broke into half, horizontally, and the lines of each half smoothed out before forming two staggered lines that seemed to resemble a battle-ready formation of warriors.

 

"Many that see our mark mistake the symbols for gates, like the Corellian Ten Gates of Hell. However, the arches are the ten first true steps of the path. Signifying the ten warriors who first learned best to understand and neutralize those who utilized the Force. Five warriors who best understood the fraternity you would call Jedi, and five who best understood the cult called Sith. The solid ten foundations of the path of Seeker are what these warriors were able to do, and the knowledge they left behind for those who would need it after them."

 

The woman removed the bone mask, revealing a set of brilliant violet eyes. "Everything learned or done since evolves from the first steps taken by these. Much like your Moon Knights. None living outside of those that walk our path know of this or remember it. It is out of respect for this alliance I explain this to you now."

[Moon Knight]

As the symbol changed, it eventually took the shape Kandor had seen both on Rahg's beskar'gam and upon his son's in the vision. He was not surprised to hear that the Seekers dated back to the Taung -- that race, though long separated from their homeworld of Coruscant, hadn't actually been extinct for that long, from a Moon Knight perspective. What did surprise him was that the founding members had been specialized against jetiise bal dar'jetiise. He'd known on some level that the Seekers had some form of special advantage against Force users, but he hadn't realized how central it was to their tradition.

 

He wondered idly if Takkoral fully understood that what whatever secrets she was telling him would be carried forward among the generations of Moon Knights potentially until the end of civilization. But he trusted that so too would the context in which they were shared, and that no future Moon Knight would use the knowledge inappropriately due to their oath. Either way, Kandor would have to be careful when choosing his own successor someday.

 

"I understand," he answered the ancient Seeker. Her violet eyes struck him. TeVerd's were similar, but he did not see the trait among the others.

 

"So the Seekers began as empaths merely by being Ageless," he said. "Are the techniques they use to hunt Force practitioners and communicate with the spirits of their predecessors intrinsically tied to that ability?" He wondered if the bond could actually be through the Force itself. He had a rather unified perspective that all seemingly-mystical powers and spiritual realms were actually tied to or contained within the Force. Empathy itself excluded, since it functioned within an ysalamiri bubble. He honestly couldn't say he'd ever had a Moon Knight vision within such a bubble, but he typically didn't sleep in one.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((This is long...you have been warned. Music helps!))

 

Takkorel smiled slightly, though none-too-sweetly. "Our natural abilities help us in the hunt, yes. A non-Empath would not be accepted as a Seeker if that's what you're asking."

 

"The two abilities - the Force and the empathy - are related," Mirdala offered carefully, not missing Takkorel's purposeful vagueness. "At least that's how it feels to me. Learning to use the Force wasn't that different from reconnecting with my empathic abilities. It just felt like it was on a different frequency and I had to learn how to 'tune' between the two."

 

Tuning is the key, she realized suddenly, looking across the open space at Hwulf, Carid, and Kaille then turning to Takkorel whose expression gave nothing away, though Mirdala felt approval from her ghostly mentor. While most Ageless can't actually use the Force traditionally, they can tune to that channel and exploit it as a weakness giving them the edge since they can tune out of alignment just as easily. She wasn't sure how she knew that was right, just that it was.

 

"You do understand now, don't you? Clever child," Takkorel's chin rose as she regarded the human girl that felt so much like one of the Ageless-kin. Drawing herself up to her considerable height, she looked over at Kandor. "Out of protection of us and those that will come, she will not share what she's just learned with you, but I do understand the value in knowing just what an ally is capable of in the heat of battle. "I will leave the legions of Moon Knights with these cheerful memories of one of our number still living to serve as an example for now." Reaching out she touched both Kandor and Mirdala's foreheads so that they both might receive the lesson.

 

-----------------------

 

Ne'kral, Prophet of Fate, found himself enjoying this. The damned Mercenary Brotherhood had been harrying his servants and interfering with his plans for several skies-forsaken years, and the Prophet was finally levying some retribution. He and several of his adepts had united to ambush and psychically overwhelm several of the more persistent mercenaries during a battle, and now Ne'kral practiced his taste for inflicting unfathomable pain, both in body and soul.

 

Many of the sell-swords had expired more quickly than the Prophet expected, given their reputations. This last one, however, the Force promised him, would be interesting....

 

He'd never seen it's like before, and exoticness was always appreciated. It was a veritable joy to learn the tolerances and fears of a new species. Two adepts hauled the thing to the bar hanging in the room, tying its wrists securely with straps. He doubted they were needed. This alien hung loose and limp in the restraints, breathing shallowly.

 

Taking three long strides, Ne'kral held it's face between his strong hands, forcing it to meet his eyes. "Shall we begin the lesson?" He laughed. He called on the Force, began pushing his will into it's mind. Astonishingly, the thing smiled, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth, and it's purple eyes seemed to glow. Ne'kral was peripherally aware of the markings on the alien's face darkening, before he found himself in it's mind.

 

A burning settlement, dead innocents scattered about like so many cast away toys. A sense of deep smouldering anger tinted the vision. The Prophet's mind moved on.

 

A gallows, strewn with hanging forms like so much spare equipment on a rack. The sense of Justice, of deep accomplishment and pride at this result, was sickening to one like Ne'kral. He pulled away hastily.

 

Gazing down at a muffled, unmoving form at his feet in a dark alley, disgusted and ashamed that he didn't feel more guilt about what had transpired. But this had to be stopped, all too many innocents had been dragged into it already… Ne'kral's mental view flickered again.

 

A beautiful young woman with blue hair lay dying in his arms, blood flowing from a puncture injury in her chest. He could not even begin to help her, the injury was so great. He would probably soon join her. He could feel the plasma leaking from the brutalized tissues of his lower back where the weapon had managed to find purchase, as well as the blaster burns across his chest and leg. Such a waste of all that effort, how had this gone so wrong so fast? But she'd been so brave, so very courageous, defiant of fate until the moment blessed unconsciousness had claimed her, meaning that the eternal night of death could claim her more quietly. She'd been so very beautiful, and very brave, and she'd nearly been his…

 

None knew how long his kind lived anymore, but it was quite long enough for them to have all too much time to remember their losses, and, to learn how to hate.

 

Ne'kral's mind snapped back to the present, staggered by the sensation of having traveled centuries in mere heartbeats. He found himself looking into the alien's purple eyes still, and was frightened by the pure hate and anger there. It wasn’t until that moment he realized the thing had broken free, and had its hands around his head, as well.

 

The alien issued a savage, feral growl that spoke of ancestors all too used to killing their food without the aid of weapons. A sharp sliding motion of its hands, and the Prophet felt an electric tingle in his neck. He nearly fell then, but the alien restrained him long enough for two sharp thumbnails to punch into his throat, rendering him voiceless and allowing a thin trickle of blood into his throat. He dropped to the floor, unable to move but quite aware of what was going on around him.

 

The adepts came in, swinging shock-rods at the now far more bestial alien. The thing sidestepped the first one, then slid in and landed a kick across the guard's kneecap, resulting in a loud wet cracking noise. The alien stepped closer, grabbing the screaming man's left arm and viciously snapping it at the elbow, before contemptuously kicking the man in the throat. Before the other adept could formulate a new attack, the alien had seized the fallen shock-rod, swinging it into the adept's temple, felling him with a sizzle and a scream. The alien leaned over him and almost gleefully beat the man into unconsciousness with the staff it held.

 

Then, the fury seemed to pass, and Ne'kral, from his position on the floor, could see and feel the alien flooding with calm. Then, the presence of the thing vanished from the Force. Ne'kral would have screamed if he could, old tribal memories leaking into his mind. The alien strode over to the Prophet's trophy case, casually tearing the wooden door off it's mounts. The thing reached in and began dragging weapons and armor free, strapping them on with full familiarity, confirming Ne'kral's fears. Before it was finished, the thing hauled out a Verpine musket Ne'kral had removed from the corpse of a paid assassin he had literally pulled apart with the Dark will of the Force.

 

The alien opened the receiver of the musket and began stuffing bits of wood, glass, and metal into the loading chamber. "The injury to your neck would normally pass within a few hours, Dar'jetii," the alien purred as it closed the receiver and used one thumb to adjust the muskets power coil, "but, it won't matter to you by then." The alien raised the musket and shot Ne'kral in the stomach from almost point blank range, puncturing organs and blood vessels.

 

Again Ne'kral wanted to scream, in unfamiliar pain and sheer terror. How could the Force desert him like this?? The alien leaned over. "I know what you're wanting to say, Dar'jetii, but I don't speak hut'uun, and so I don't care. If you had never forced me to remember, then I might simply have killed you outright. Then again, finding this in here, perhaps not..."

 

The alien pulled the helmet it had retrieved from the trophy case over it's head, the one Ne'kral had claimed from a murdered constable on a planet in a sector most of the galaxy tried to forget. In doing that, it became one of a faceless legion, a member of a "race" that excelled at producing some of the fiercest and most deadly opponents known through time.

 

The alien gazed down at the shuddering Prophet for a moment, a strange glint visible through the helm's gray T-shaped visor, then strode out. After it had gone through the door, Ne'kral tried to calm himself down, tried to summon the Force to himself to live another day and end this pain. Suddenly, a small device was flung back through the doorway, spewing blue and green sparks in every direction, setting the room ablaze.

 

As the room was engulfed in sheets of flame, Ne'kral tried one last time to scream.

 

-----------------

 

As the shared vision ended, Mirdala looked at Kandor, “That’s one of TeVerd’s memories…That helmet and rifle...I’ve held them.”

 

“You’ve done more than that, girl,” Carid said. “It’s the same TeVerd taught you how to shoot with.”

 

“And the same you got from Tresha and Trita when they met up with you on Coruscant after my death,” Hwulf added.

 

“The helmet he had your father adjust to fit you and is the one you carry now,” Kaille smiled slightly. “In some ways, you are carrying on the duty of the ones that bore them before meeting their ends in defense of the sector. Your duties as Constable are no less important to our people, even more so in some cases than your Seeker training.”

 

 

"You must never forget the people you protect. They are the reason we stand between them and the rest of the galaxy,” Takkorel resumed control of the lesson, as she had one more memory left to give. “You’ve seen what we are capable of and willing to do against those that prove they are worthy of death by our hands. Our primary duty is to protect the sector, but it is on the individual to determine how best to uphold those oaths. Knowing full-well they are in constant judgement from those that came before." The ancient Mando'ad woman leveled her gaze at Mirdala who shifted uncomfortably, still not used to the constant spectral scrutiny.

 

“Now see the damage one who forgets such an oath can cause those they were meant to serve…”

 

------------------

 

Boreleo, Meridian Sector

 

Stark Galer, former Seeker and now considered a member of the Death Watch, felt secure. This camp was well-sighted, well hidden, and perfect for his needs. The derelict Novollut Mining town they were using was intact enough to provide plenty of shelter, and the existing mines would provide plenty of raw materials to effect the repairs he expected to have to do. He was building the camp into both a rest and recovery facility for Death Watch vode suffering from battle fatigue, and making it an indoctrination camp for would-be Death Watch mercenaries.

 

He sneered - most of the fools Tor Viszla had sent him so far had little to offer the Death Watch beyond a complete lack of moral reservations. Still, they'd be useful for soaking up enemy weapons fire while the seasoned veterans seized the day. He'd found some half-decent mechanics and armorers amongst them, though, so the pace of establishing this outpost was barely hampered.

 

Galer reflected on the last few years when this violence had started. That fool Mereel, and all that yapping about moral codes and to honoring what the aruetiise had to say.

 

Di’kut.

 

Had not Stark Galer's kind, the true sons of the Mandalore, bought the Mando’ad their place in the galaxy's legends, one meter of battleground at a time? The Mando’ade had nothing to learn from outsiders and even less reason to respect them. Most of those twits would pass dead of fear on sighting the familiar visor arrangement.

 

Speaking of which… He reached for his helmet, so close in appearance to the first one he'd ever worn. That, more than anything, told him that the Mando’ade had lost their way. Many of them had forgotten their history, and they needed to be shown that there was a reason for everything they'd been told as children.

 

He had just begun to seal the helmet to his neck guard when the building shook and was filled with harsh blue light. A moment later, the noise hit him. A rolling, crackling boom.

 

Outside the door, he could see the camp aflame. Accident? His mind thought.

 

But no - the three bodies equipped like himself laying in huddles across the path to his cabin immediately put the lie to that fleeting hope. As did the shape standing on the path, a tattered sheet fluttering off one shoulder, rifle resting on its thigh. As his eyes locked on the silhouette, Galer felt the other being - a harsh, empathic slap snapping between them. Galer almost whimpered under the force of it, but he managed to bite it back and regain control himself.

 

"He...Hello, Vrosiche." He said, forcing control upon himself. Though he knew this one sensed his fears, his pride wouldn't allow him to admit them.

 

"Jaster Mereel is dead. Murdered by the slime you’ve been provoking, Galer!” The man's voice growled out. "Had fools like you and the others remembered who you are, and who we were asked to be by our forefathers, this perhaps could have been avoided. As it is, too many of those we swore to guide have fallen in a pointless argument. We are Soldiers, not slime, and yet you would have us degenerate into the dregs of the galaxy?!"

 

Stark Galer had rarely been afraid in over eight hundred years of facing the galaxy on its own terms. But now, he truly was. He recognized the one across from him. A fellow Ageless, one of the forefathers of the modern Mandalorians - and one that was not known to have any sense of compassion or mercy. "TeVerd..." he muttered.

 

"I've been asked by the new Mandalore to leave Viszla to the 'True Mandos', and so I shall." TeVerd said, "But I feel the need to personally make sure that you are no longer a threat to the stability of the Yaim. Stark Galer, come and meet your fate...."

 

The cold pronouncement angered Galer. "How dare you?" he growled, charging, as he brought his vibro club into play.

 

TeVerd, for his part, tossed the rifle aside and pulled out an ancient beskad, the traditional sword of the Mandalorians, forged from the iron in the bones of the home planet.

 

Galer gave as good as he got, the blade that snapped out of his club scoring good hits, leaving a welter of thick purplish blood cascading down the other Ageless' arm where Galer had found a weakness in the armor-weave suit. In the end, though, the fight was decided by the war gear itself - Galer's durasteel armor and weaponry was no equal to the beskar in TeVerd's plates and saber. The Seeker used the unique properties of the metal for all it was worth, finally shoving his blade through Galer's abdominal plate. "You have no soul, Galer. You will never be part of the Manda, and in time, your name will be forgotten! From this moment forward into your death, you are dar’manda!" TeVerd purred from under his helmet, aligning his visor with Galer's.

 

Long moments later, after the body had almost stopped shuddering, the warrior known only as TeVerd now, took his helmet off and gazed down at the form of a fellow Ageless as the glow faded from his violet eyes.

 

This was not the first of his own kind he had killed, and there were three more he considered worthy of the same fate, for the same crimes as Galer. However, he also had something of a duty to preserve something from this. Reaching into a belt pouch, he removed a handful of medical sharps and used them to take blood and tissue samples from Stark Galer's corpse.

 

Then, slipping his helmet back on, he walked away. He had an appointment to keep with certain well-paid doctors.

 

---------------------

 

As the memory faded, Mirdala felt another chill run through her spine. So that's why that monster TeVerd was hunting called him 'Kinslayer'... she thought to herself. She’d been around the age of ten when she thought it would be a brilliant idea to stowaway on a hunt that TeVerd had been avoiding taking her on, and for good reason.

 

The man was a Force User, and a particularly sick piece of work that Mirdala had not been able to defend against when he'd called to her from the hold of the ship. Luckily, TeVerd had made it in time, but it had been the first time she'd ever felt him that dark, or that dangerous.

 

Mirdala’s questioning gaze fell to Hwulf and he nodded, knowing what she was remembering from that incident.

 

It had also been that same incident that had prompted Hwulf, Carid, and TeVerd to teach her some of the various Seeker shielding techniques to help her guard against any such attack in the future. That knowledge had saved her mind when Fieyr had used similar techniques to what TeVerd had done to force the Sith back out of his mind in the first memory.

 

“I will keep this last one in mind most of all,” Mirdala finally said at length as she rose to stand next to Kandor. “TeVerd and the others have prepared me well and continue to do so. For them I will not falter.”

 

Takkorel gave a short laugh. “See that you do, young one. Your kind, though rare amongst our numbers, poses the most dangerous potential should you fall. With fewer of our number than ever, who could bring you to heel? How much of the galaxy would burn?”

 

Mirdala’s lips pursed, a sure sign that she was getting tired of being lumped automatically into the major threat category even before anything had even happened to warrant it.

 

Had she not endured trial after trial to get to where she was now? Sighing, she realized it was likely much the same process Kandor consistently went through, having several thousand previous ghosts evaluating your every move to make sure it measured up to keep the scales tipped towards preserving the good in the greater galaxy.

 

Takkorel made no further remarks to Mirdala, turning instead to the other Seeker ghosts. “I feel it is time we take our leave before we overstay the tolerance of our hosts.”

 

One by one Mirdala hugged them, watching them leave, weaving in and out of the moonlight of the chambers as she sat back down on the cushions, and let her thoughts wander before remarked. “I’m not sure what I expected for my first visit to your temple, but this didn’t even come close to anything I could have imagined…”

[Moon Knight]

As the scenes unfolded in his mind, Kandor was struck by a few things. The way TeVerd had been able to ghost out of the Force. The empathic "lash" that he'd performed on the Kyr'tsad in the second vision. The profound links between TeVerd and Mirdala, from how they fought to the equipment they'd shared, as was pointed out. But also the deep, pervading hate that had taken hold in TeVerd's heart, the way he let it almost consume him. It reminded Kandor of how Isolder would give himself over to the dark side during battles against powerful enemies, surrendering himself to rage and accepting the consequences because it helped him fight, and he had to treat every fight like his last.

 

It shed some light, he reflected, on TeVerd's character. The respect with which everyone treated him, the duality of how he could be both nurturing and light-hearted and yet stern to the point of becoming vindictive. The Omicrons never seemed to want to be the ones to share bad news with him. He supposed a life that long of that kind of service might inevitably lead to that. While he had accrued many times more experiences through the Moon Knight memories, which found even TeVerd to be very young, he could separate them from himself, compartmentalize them. Not every bad thing that had happened to a Moon Knight had happened to Kandor personally, and developing a thirst for revenge against villains long after they were gone was not productive nor beneficial to his oath.

 

"Had no idea myself," he told his wife as the ghosts faded away. "But I'm suddenly glad I had that nightmare that led us here."

 

He studied her face for a moment. "Believe me when I say I have all appreciation for your call to carry on an ancient legacy," he said. "But TeVerd's hate... I hope you will never need that." And not just because she was a Force adept. He saw other things in her which were much more noble, and he believed could be better motivators to fight. Her compassion, her willingness to see beauty in the oyu'baat, the sense of responsibility they shared to use the talents they had to protect those who could not protect themselves. These were some of the things he loved about her, and it would pain him greatly to see them perish under the weight of anger and revenge.

 

"Ready to go?" he asked her. When she nodded, they headed back out the way they'd come into the sanctum. The enormous doors swung outwards as they approached the exit, giving them a view of the dunes as the sunlight spilled in, shattering the cool darkness of the Temple's interior. The blowing particles of sand hung suspended in the air soundlessly, the world outside seemingly frozen.

 

Kandor grinned at Mirdala's expression of wonder. "No matter how long we stay here, no time passes beyond these walls," he said. She put her hand out, reaching into the sand and waving the grains into a pattern. Then finally they stepped through together and the wind howled as the Temple began its descent back into whatever mystical chamber it resided within when the Moon Knight was not inside.

 

Headed back to the Justice, Kandor realized he wasn't certain where they were going next. Until the team got through Viba's data, they didn't have any mission leads to follow, so he supposed it was still downtime. "Back to the Enigma, or try someplace new?" he asked.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala shrugged at her husband, her mind still working through all that had been revealed to them within the temple and what she suspected was the final time she'd ever see her parents. It had been nice to get a chance to see them one last time, for them to meet Kandor, and gain some closure on the whole tangled mess of events pertaining to Judyc Viba.

 

When she finally did speak, it wasn't in answer to his question, but rather a thought she wanted to share with him. "I don't hate him. Judyc, I mean," she clarified, wrapping her scarf further across her face to guard against the never-ending cloud of sand that seemed to stir the air. "Even though he's gone...I...feel bad that he was so full of hate and vengefulness that he wasn't even willing to try to build a bridge. Credits make for cold comfort and that man had no heart."

 

As they reached the Justice, the pair strode up the boarding ramp hand in hand, with Vi'ika coming from the cockpit and stopping mid-bark as she realized it was the two of them instead of some intruder. The sandhound had not expected the pair to return so quickly.

 

As Kandor removed his helmet, Mirdala unwrapped the scarf from her head and shook what sand she could loose from her braid and clothes and moved towards him, a thousand and one thoughts cascading through her mind as she rested her head against his chest and pulled him close to her. Whatever she'd been expecting to find at the Temple of the Moon, she was glad no small measure of peace had been among the things she'd taken with her after it had returned into the sand.

 

On some level, she'd known about TeVerd and the hate he kept tightly in check, but to see and feel the memories had been something else entirely. She never wanted to go down that road. Compared to him she had so little time and so many better things to do than to waste her time hating a man who was no longer living.

 

Standing on her tiptoes, she gently pulled Kandor's face to hers and kissing him softly on the lips before pulling back slightly to gauge his reaction. So much of the last few weeks she'd been so focused on herself and coping that she hadn't really checked in with Kandor. Mirdala knew his strength well and knew his philosophy to consistently look forward had hopefully served him as well as her own inner resolve had brought her back to some semblance of normal.

 

When their lips met again she put her arms around his neck as he held her close reveling in the shared connection she felt with her husband. Not matter what, she wouldn't allow any past horror to steal these precious moments between her and Kandor.

[Moon Knight]

Kandor couldn't say for certain that he did not hate Viba, but if all that he had endured being raised by the man was the price for the happiness he could now experience with Mirdala, if any part of what had happened had led to their meeting aboard the Enigma, he was willing to forgive him. He would waste no time directing ill will towards the dead, not when the present needed his full attention. As they kissed he realized he never had to worry about her becoming as steeped in hate as TeVerd -- it was one of the things she would never inherit or learn from the Ageless. It just wasn't a part of her.

 

Resting his forehead against hers, he tilted his head towards their cabin. She nodded and he led her by the hand there, releasing the maglocks on his plates. It would be... a bit different this time, the first time since her captivity. In some ways he didn't think they could ever be intimate with each other again without the reminder that she could no longer bear children. But that in no way hampered their desire to be close to each other physically and pursue this expression of their riduurok as well as their affection. They would just have to figure out how to move forward together, and this was an important step.

 

They pulled off their boots and he laid her down on the bed, lifting the hem of her tank top and kissing her as --

 

A beep sounded from the front of the ship. "HIgh priority message from Concord Dawn over the secure channel," 2277 announced over the intercomm. "I'm afraid it's a bit garbled, Master."

 

Kandor sat up, annoyed at the interruption but realizing this could be important. "Put it through, burc'ya."

 

A voice came through the channel that he quickly realized was Briia Silvar's. "Mirdala, there's been an incident." Static. "--need to get off the planet. Safe place--" Static. "--Ad'Norts." A few garbled words. "--into hiding. Hope you know a place--"

 

"I'm afraid that's all I could decipher, Master," 2277 reported.

 

Kandor looked down at his wife for a moment, then decisively pulled his shirt back on, giving her a commiserating look that adequately said we just can't catch a break sometimes. "Bought a place on Chandrila several years ago," he said. "Much bigger than the Corellia safehouse, kind of in the middle of nowhere. Just realized I never had a housewarming party. What do you say we invite everyone over?"

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala pursed her lips at the interruption but was immediately sitting up as well next to Kandor as the transmission came through. "Briia..." she whispered, confirming the source of the voice for Kandor as it ended and the words began to sink in. She shrugged at his look, laughing slightly as she echoed the emotion. Before she could even think of a location, he spoke up. No hesitation and even before she'd asked. She loved him all the more for it.

 

"I think that would be a grand idea," she agreed, her face bright with hope, despite hearing news that indicated the situation on Dawn had deteriorated to the point that the Ad'Norts themselves were in danger. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, even though most on Dawn didn't know exactly what type of species they were or their racial abilities, Hwulf, Taen, and Reska (Taen's Kiffui wife) had been Protectors in the area. Hwulf and Taen having served the area since long before she'd even been born.

 

Following his lead she rose, "I'm going to call Aunt Laesha. I doubt it's just Taen and his family that need safe haven. I'll let you know when I decide to take a shower to get this sand off of me." She kissed his cheek and winked before disappearing down the corridor to her old quarters.

 

She felt the rumble of the Justice's engines as she keyed her Aunt's comm number. There was no answer. Forcing herself to remain calm she tried one of her uncle's older channels that she and Tresha had used when they were younger. Finally the haggard face of her usually jubilant Arkaanan aunt formed in the com panel before her. "Aunt Laesha! Thank the Manda! We just got Briia's message. Is everyone alright?"

 

The woman gave a slow nod. "Don't talk," Mirdala interrupted, not remembering how secure the line was. "Do you need us to help get you off world or can you meet us somewhere?"

 

Laesha shook her head, pressed her hand flat against her chest before bringing her fist up and making a circular motion with it. She extended her index finger and shot it upward in mimicry of a ship taking off. Don't need your help. We can make it out ourselves, was the silent message.

 

"Ping us once you're free, we'll get you the rest of the way. All of the clan?"

 

Laesha nodded, then the comm went dark. Mirdala pursed her lips together before keying up another frequency, this one highly secured.

 

"Buir, have you seen the latest from Dawn?" Mirdala asked even before he could greet her.

 

Been here to see the whole thing go off. Why?

 

"Kandor and I have fallback position for the Ad'Norts. I think we should get Briia's parents too, if you can convince them it's good choice."

 

Aliise and I are working on that now, coordinating with Vannae for the ships. Your middle and youngest cousins are out of the system on hunts, but it's not a bad time to gather everyone for a check-in. Mirdala knew that meant that Aluir, Tresha, and Valyin weren't in the system presently and weren't in any more danger than was usual for their chosen professions.

 

That only left Taen, his wife Reska, their three daughters, Laesha and her remaining children Vannae & Tannae, with Tannae's husband and new baby. Mirdala really hoped this safe house could handle the Ad'Nort clan. Kandor had met them all before, so he knew how much room would be needed before he'd offered. Once again, Mirdala continued to appreciate his foresight.

 

"I trust that Taen or Laesha will know how to get word to them then? You'll all be headed to Chandrila. Kandor and I are headed there now to meet you. He'll give you the specific location once you're in orbit."

 

TeVerd looked at her for a long moment, and she could feel him probing her slightly through their bond.

 

"I've made my peace with it," Mirdala remarked bluntly, "for now anyway. We're both getting there. Hang around on Chandrila a bit and we can talk then. For now get Hwulf's family out of there before one of Ab'ki's lackeys get a hold of one of them."

 

TeVerd nodded grimly and then that link went dark as well.

[Moon Knight]

As he lifted the Justice off the ground and got 2277 working on the hyperspace jump calculations to get them to Chandrila, Kandor listened in on the conversations Mirdala was having getting everyone organized and en route. He tried to mentally count how many guests he'd be having, but ultimately he knew the Chandrila safehouse could fit everyone comfortably.

 

By the time she'd finished the call to TeVerd, they'd made orbit and the coordinates were laid in and ready to go. Tatooine was not particularly close to Chandrila, but to its benefit it sat just off the Corellian Way which provided an express lane directly to the core worlds, cutting down what would otherwise potentially be a several-day jump into a much more manageable time segment.

 

Still, they would have some downtime during the trip, Kandor reflected as the ship entered hyperspace.

 

"I could use that shower," he said.

[Stephen]

A hot, sweaty humanoid crawls out from under a moisture vaporator, and throws a rusty hydrospanner into his toolbox with a sigh.

 

"Well, Mate," he said to a dirty, rust-colored M8-F7 astromech droid, "Looks like half of the chilling bars are bad. Make a note to pick up some spares next time we go into town, will ya?"

 

Boop-bweep-blip-beep-beep? the droid asked.

 

"No, I don't care how much they will price gouge," he retorted angrily. "We need the blasted thing working. We've already lost two, and it's not like we have the 500 credits lying around to buy a new one! C'mon, let's get home."

 

Stephen Farstrider hopped onto his landspeeder, waited for Mate to attach via mag-crane, then departed for home. His home was an abandoned homestead he had found. He wasn't sure who had lived there, but someone had cared for the previous residents at least--evident by what was left of six sand-scoured tombstones. He cleaned up as best he could, made his dinner, ate while listening to the latest news transmission downloaded by Tatooine Central, and then went to bed.

[Stephen]

Stephen was awakened by Mate’s beeping. He put his pillow over his head and grunted. This only resulted in the distressed droid rocking back and forth and beeping louder.

 

“G’ah! Shut up you overgrown alarm clock!” Stephen yelled. “I’m up, I’m up.”

 

He rubbed his stubble-covered face and beard—only briefly considering shaving. Who would even see or care if he did? No one, so why bother? He got dressed for the day, quickly ate his protein bar, drank a few sips of stale-tasting water and headed out for the day.

 

* * * *

 

After spending hours tending to the vaporators that actually worked, he took the collected moisture and emptied it into the holding tank on the back seat of the landspeeder. Being that he had time to spare, he decided to travel to Mos Eisley for a drink and—hell—just to get away from the farm for a bit.

 

Not wanting to have to drag the droid along with him, he took him to the garage, and told him to go ahead and have a lubricant bath and full charge. If I’m having a splurge night, he thought, why can’t he?. Mate beeped his delight, and did as instructed. With that he set off for Mos Eisley.

 

* * * *

 

After finding a spot to park the speeder, and fending off a Jawa offering to buy it for next to nothing, he made his way to Chalmun's Cantina. He walked up to the bar, nodded to Burnett, the bulbous-nosed bartended who looked exactly like the photo of his father, Wuher, hanging above the bar.

 

“Same as usual?” the bartender asked.

 

“Not tonight,” Stephen replied. “Whiskey. Corellian.”

 

“Whoa! Rough week at the farm…or a profitable one?”

 

“Rough one. Give me some dustcrepes as well. I’m starving.”

 

“You got it. I’ll bring it over to your booth.”

 

“Thanks,” Stephen said as he made his way to his favorite booth. It was his favorite booth because, for a reason he was unsure of, it was always unoccupied. It could be from the strange blaster mark about head-high on the wall—he wasn’t sure.

 

A short time later, Burnett arrived with the steaming plate of food. Stephen thanked him, and began munching on the meat-filled crepes while listening to the band play music. If you could call that a band, he chuckled to himself, ….and if you could call that music.

 

“S’cuse me,” said a light voice interrupting Stephen’s thoughts. “Mind if I have a seat?”

 

Stephen looked up to see a light-skinned cerean male with light brown hair. “Uhh…sure. I suppose.”

 

“Many thanks,” the cerean male said with a slight bow. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I have watched you since you arrived, and you seem like a local who’s been around a while.”

 

Stephen squinted his eyes suspiciously, “Look, if your trying to make an easy scam—“

 

“No, no, no,” the other said quickly, “Nothing of the sort. I am stranded here, and I need a trustworthy transport to take me home. All the smugglers who come through here are too suspicious or busy to even bother listening to me. Do you by chance have a transport?”

 

“Heh…”, Stephen barked, “I wish. Last I checked moisture farming barely pays for my debt, much less a luxury starship. Have you asked Burnett, the bartender?”

 

“Yes, he said, ‘Stow it—and don’t annoy the paying customers!’”

 

“Yeah—sounds like him alright. Look, I’m just a farmer. I don’t know any pilots or merchants. Not my crowd. I can’t help you get to Cerea.”

 

“No, not Cerea,” he replied as he leaned in and lowered his voice, “I need to get to Korriban...”

[Stephen]

Stephen glanced around to make sure no one had overheard the name. He dropped his voice as low as possible, “Korriban?! Why in the hell would you want to go there?! Who are you?!”

 

The cerean leaned back in his chair. “My name is Lugner. I’m a freelance spy. I hear information I think someone would want to know, I try to get it to them… for a price.”

 

“What in blazes would you know that you would think it worth going to Kor—er—to that planet?”

 

“Why would I tell a stranger that? I don’t know you, pal.”

 

“Look, ‘pal’, you came to me. If you don’t want my help, then fine.” Stephen started to get up, but was halted by the cerean’s hand on his arm.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lugner sighed. “This is time sensitive. They need to know. I have holographic proof of a secret tryst between…,” he lowers his voice to the point where Stephen had to strain to hear, “…a Sith Acolyte and a Jedi.”

 

Stephen’s eyes widened in shock as he sat back. “That’s not true. That’s impossible.”

 

“It’s not impossible. It’s improbable… and totally profitable to the right people. Namely, us… partner.”

 

“Whoa,” Stephen replied, “We went from ‘stranger’ to ‘partner’ pretty quickly there, didn’t we?”

 

“Look, I need the help, and I’m sure you could use the credits, right?”

 

“Well, yeah, but I have a farm and a life here. I can’t just up and leave.”

 

“I can guarantee you, this information would get us enough credits to fuel your farm for a standard year—if not more!”

 

Stephen sat in silent thought for a couple of minutes. His farm was slowly failing. He had nothing else holding him here. What could it hurt? He got up, went up to Burnett, and asked about a pilot that was desperate for some work. He got a name, thanked the bartender, and walked back to table.

 

“C’mon,” he said to Lugner, “I got us a lead.”

 

* * * *

 

They enter Hanger 28 to find an old SoroSuub 3000 space yacht in sitting in the hanger. A pasty-skinned Sullustan climbed out from under the ship, wiped his hands on his pants, and said in accented Basic, “Um… can I help you?”

 

Looking hesitantly at the ship, Stephen said, “Maybe. Burnett said you were looking for some passengers. My name is Stephen, and this is Lugner.”

 

He reached out his somewhat greasy hand, “Haina Maana.” He shook both of their hands, and then waved his hand at the ship. “This is the Fortune and Glory. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

 

“Um, no,” Lugner said unimpressed. “Should we have?”

 

Haina waved his arm dismissively, “Bah, nevermind,” he said somewhat disappointedly. “It’s not important, I guess. Look, I’d love to help you, but at the moment, I’m having issues with the ion engine, and the sensor array has been on the fritz. I’m grounded.”

 

Lugner cursed in his native tongue, but Stephen had an idea. “Hey, I’m pretty good with machines. I’ll help you fix it if you give us passage to a system of our choosing.”

 

“Which system?” Haina asked.

 

Stephen glanced at Lugner who gave a slight shake of his tall head. “We’ll tell you once we’re in orbit. Do we have a deal?”

 

Haina wiped saliva off his jowls. “You’re lucky I’ve been stuck on this sandy rock for a month now. I gotta get off this planet. I hate the sand. It gets everywhere! Deal!”

 

Stephen sent Lugner to his home to gather some of his belongings and Mate while he and Haina got to work on the ship. Two days later, the ship was space-worthy once again.

 

“You’ve got a gift, Stephen,” said Haina. “I never would have thought to shunt power from the hyperdrive motivator to jumpstart the ion engines. And your rewiring of the comm transceiver output into the sensor array was brilliant. Well worth a trip to so podunk planet.”

 

Lugner saw then cleaning up, “Are we good to go? Finally! I’ve been getting tired of losing sabbac to this droid of yours. Who’s ever heard of a droid playing sabbac?”

 

Within an hour, the Fortune and Glory was in orbit around Tatooine.

 

“Okay,” said Haina, “Where am I dropping you off?”

 

Again, Stephen looked to Lugner, who only shrugged this time. “Well, we need to get to Korriban.”

[Stephen]

Without hesitating, Haina drew his blaster and pointed it directly at Stephen. “Are you crazy?! Korriban?! The Sith are the reason my ship was banged up to begin with—I ran into a Sith patrol who shot me up when I refused to let them board. I barely escaped, and now you want me to go to their homeworld?”

 

“Look—,” Lugner began.

 

“No!” Haina shouted. “No. You don’t get to talk. Both of you shut up!” He began muttering to himself in Sullustan, keeping his blaster pointed at Stephen.

 

Stephen wished he could get his blaster, but with the Sullustan pointing his own pistol at him, that wasn’t a good idea. If only he could distract him. He got Lugner’s attention with his eyes, and barely nodded towards the Sullustan as if to say “Distract him so I can attack”. He knew Lugner got his meaning when he widened his eyes and shook his head.

 

Stephen closed his eyes and willed the Sullustan to look away. Look behind you, he thought. There’s a threat behind you. Look away. This was getting him nowhere, and he became angry with the whole situation. LOOK BEHIND YOU, YOU BASTARD! he screamed mentally.

 

He heard an audible gasp from Lugner, and opened his eyes to see Haina looking away. He quickly drew his well-maintained BlasTech DC-17 and pointed it at Haina. He must have heard the sound, because he turned back to the pair saying, “Hey—what the hell was that?” when Stephen pulled the trigger. His aim was true, and a glowing hole appeared in the Sullustan’s chest. Haina Maana crumpled to the deck and was no more.

 

Lugner whistled, “Nice shot. But I’m with him—what the hell was that?”

 

“Was what?” Stephen asked.

 

“That weird, blob-like shape behind him in the corridor. I swear it just appeared then disappeared.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t see anything.”

 

“Probably because you had your eyes closed, you coward,” he said jokingly. “It disappeared as you opened your eyes.”

 

“Coward? Pretty sure I’m the one who pulled the trigger.” Stephen said with a wink. “So—what do we do with him?”

 

“Dump him,” Lugner said. “We don’t need to be carting around a corpse.”

 

They moved the body to the airlock. Lugner checked his pockets for any credits, key cards, or datapads, and then closed the hatch. He looked up to Stephen. “Know how to pilot a ship?”

 

“Sort of,” Stephen replied. “I’m assuming you don’t?”

 

“Sort of,” Lugner replied with a chuckle. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can get to Korriban.”

 

The two made for the cockpit, plotted a course to Korriban, and sent the Fortune and Glory into hyperspace.

[Faux]

Drifting in and out of daydreams, gliding across the dune sea, could this be real? Could a person be so excited and so apprehensive, so thirsty and so revolted? Growing up Faux wanted nothing more than to go on a fantastic adventure, see beautiful cityscapes and meet interesting people. Oh, how she would walk the galaxy with joy in her heart and curiosity in her eyes. Yet everyone at the monastery offered her nothing but cautious woes and slander. Most tales regarding the world outside the walls were filled with nothing but contempt, pity, sorrow and suffering. Perhaps there was some sweetness out there, they said, but it would be like a grain of sand lost in the vastness of space. So engrossed was the galaxy, what was the point? But it had always seemed so defeatist to her. Completely antithetical to what the monks were hoping to accomplish in their selfish exclusion. If the galaxy really was so screwed up, is it not the duty of the wise to try to heal it, rather than run away and hide where they think it safe?

 

Of course she didn’t think she could heal the galaxy. She was far too removed from it to make any sort of impact. But for now she could explore it, get to see this sickness her brothers spoke of, and see if it really was as hopeless as they thought. She felt like she already knew the answer, though. There is no such thing as hopeless.

 

“We will surely miss you, little one.” Adon said over the roar of the wind whipping by them as he maneuvered the speeder through the desert. “The halls will be much quieter without you.”

 

Faux sighed, breaking her out of her daydreaming. “Don’t let it get too quiet, okay? No sense in you guys sitting around being grumpy all day.”

 

“No fear of that. We will have your memory to warm our hearts against the insufferable cold.” He glanced over to offer up a smile, only to notice her tearing up. “Oh, don’t cry, child. This is for the best, truly. You need to see the galaxy. And who knows, maybe it won’t disappoint you like it has so many.”

 

She sniffled and blinked away a tear before it demanded more. “I feel like I’m being selfish.”

 

“How so?”

 

“You all have been so kind, even when I was being rotten. You’ve fed me and given me shelter, and taught me so much. You have cared for me when my own parents wouldn’t. And now, given the opportunity, I leave the first chance I get.”

 

“Don’t be foolish. You have done your fair share of work for your keep, as everyone else does. You practice our ways and do so with focus and effort. If you ever saw one of your brothers in grief you would always try to cheer him up. Even this sense of guilt you feel now only proves how much you care for us. We could not have asked for a better little sister.”

 

“But…”

 

“Do not think about what your obligations to us may be. You have none. You are a free individual now, and must make your own way in this galaxy. Perhaps in time you will rejoin us, perhaps not. Perhaps you will find another place that needs you, lives you can brighten, and wounds you can mend. Perhaps you will find the same frivolous suffering your brothers experienced, in which case you will always have a home to return to. But remember this, little one. You must find your own purpose. Do not let anyone give you one. If it does not come from your own heart, it will never be true.”

 

Ultimately this was the very reason she had to leave. Life in the monastery was safe and familiar, but to choose it for fear of the outside world was never really a choice at all. Faux knew it, her brother monks knew it. This was why they did not begrudge her leaving, but still she couldn’t shake this sense of duty and obligation toward them. They were her family after all. One doesn’t just abandon their family. Not like her parents did to her. She couldn’t be that callous.

 

“I know. I’ll just miss you guys, is all.”

 

The ride continued in silence for a while, uneventful save for the occasional stack of sun bleached bones of one large desert animal or another. Sand gave away to valleys between rocky plateaus and again to even more sand. Through the haze of evaporating moisture a large structure began to rise in the distance.

 

“We’re coming up on the meeting place. Gather your things.”

 

Faux had always wondered what the inside of one of the Jawa’s massive land transports looked like, even dreamed of stowing away on one on the rare occasions they would happen by the monastery and trade much needed replacement parts for whatever food, water, and medicine the monks could spare. Now that the time was here the sight of the behemoth filled her with a dull sort of apprehension. This would be the first of many new experiences on her journey.

 

Pulling the speeder along the boarding ramp, Adon got out of the speeder first, plucking the neatly wrapped package from the back of the speeder and headed toward the party awaiting them. Faux took her time getting out, feeling the weight of every footstep pulling her further from home. The land cruiser was massive, casting a shadow a hundred meters long or more in the afternoon sun. As she walked toward the group Adon handed a Jawa the bundle and nodding as all but one of the Jawas moved up the ramp.

 

“They will take you to Mos Eisley. From there it is to you to find passage off world.”

 

“Any suggestions?” She masked herself with a smile, but her tone couldn’t hide her anxiousness.

 

“Coruscant. You’ll see all walks of sentient life, culture, entertainments and goods. You’ll get a little taste of what the rest of the galaxy has to offer. That would be my first stop. From there you can find transportation to anywhere in the galaxy.”

 

“Okay.” Even as he was saying it she could feel the distance between them become greater and greater. It made her heart heavy. Heavier than the inquisitive joy she had long cultivated for this very same opportunity.

 

“Do not forget, little one. Anything is possible with determination and practice.”

 

She looked up at her big brother with the widest smile she could muster and nodded. This was it. This was goodbye. As the Jawa lead her up the ramp she paused, turning to see Adon showing her nothing but a happy, beaming smile, waving at her like she was coming home from playing in the dunes so many times before. Faux wished she had his certainty. She continued up the ramp as it ascended, feeling the finality of it all as the sunlight faded into artificial light and the ramp sealed shut with a hiss.

 

Here we go…