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[Guest]

Hours upon entering the cabin, the Sith-ette woke up with a rather smeared dried blood all over her body. Cephi's blood of course. Shaking her head, she slowly dressed and then joined the Sith Lord in the cockpit. Their final destination, and her next test seemed to be drawing nigh. Moments upon landing a soft lip-lock on Lord Cephi, she sat down anticipating the landing ahead.

[Qaela]

Qaela smiled at Lucifer's question. The Sith were so quick to look down at her primitive and "weak" culture, but many seemed quite envious of her ability to heal, even if it was limited compared to the Witches or Jedi. For Tobias, that had been the lure that she had used to lead him to his death. Perhaps for Lucifer, it would serve a different purpose: motivation. "Before I answer that question," she said, "I think you need to know a few more things. This will be a good time to begin a lesson."

 

She made herself more comfortable in the chair and began. "As you might have heard from the gossip, I am not a Sith. I am a Nightsister of Dathomir. Centuries of isolation has allowed us to develop an unique society as well as a different way to view the Force. My mother, also a Nightsister, desired to attain some of the Sith's abilities and secrets, among other things. She trained me from birth to go out into the Galaxy and discover this information and learn as much as I could about the Sith. I have succeeded beyond her wildest imaginings and am now well versed in how the Sith do things. That is part of why Master Ar-Pharazon named me a Sith Lord. I learned under Haphaestus and some under Ar-Pharazon, but much of my learning was done by studying in the Sith Library.

 

"Haphaestus, for all of his flaws, was wise enough to theorize that the core difference between Nightsisters and Sith was not in what skills they used, but rather how they used the Force. As you know, Sith rely on their emotions to access the Force, particularly the strong ones of hate, anger, and pain. Those emotions give them quick and often devastating power, but it also limits them and cuts them off of many uses of the Force. Most of those uses are what you call the 'light side' because they require either tranquility or compassion and love to work. The Sith favor destruction and chaos while the Jedi favor creation and order.

 

"The Nightsisters care for none of that. We have learned to access the Force through ritual and route practice. We have trained our mind that when we do certain things, it subconsciously accesses the Force and produces the desired result. We call those rituals 'spells.' Some chant and make motions that they have memorized, others can wield spells without words, but through saying the spell in their minds. Only the greatest of us can use a spell with a simple thought in the way that the Sith and Jedi do.

 

"We view the Force as just another part of our body, though it is most similar to muscles. Have you ever trained a particular lightsaber move so much that you can do it without thought? Do you have to think to tie your shoes or walk down a flight of stairs? Of course not. Why? Because you have trained your muscles to repeat the same move so much that your mind can do it without conscious thought. That is how the Nightsisters have learned to use the Force, though they just don't know it.

 

"They rely on the physical actions and words they speak to trigger their minds to use the Force. It usually takes more time and is rarely as powerful as what a Sith or Jedi can do, but it has its advantages. The first, I believe, is that it doesn't leave us as drained as when a Sith uses the Force. A Sith must always tap into their hatred and rage and pain or they will quickly burn out and tire. A Nightsister can merely start certain spells and then, when they are complete, their mind will still be tapping into the Force to continue that spell. Not all spells work that way, but there are many that do such as concealment, control over animals, and even stormcasting. There are, of course, limits to this depending on the type of spell and how powerful, experienced, and disciplined the caster is, but from what I have seen, a Nightsister can cast a great deal more spells without recharging or burning out than a Sith.

 

"The second advantage is that, since we are relying on route mental memory and training, most of our spells don't require us to fuel them with emotion. Spells to us are typically in and of themselves neutral. They don't require anger or love or any emotion to unleash. Yes, being angry helps and in battle, we are frequently while furious at our enemies, but we don't rely on that fury to fuel our use of the Force like Sith do. That doesn't mean we can use all aspects of the Force, but it does mean that we can use more of what you consider 'light side' abilities than the average Sith because we aren't weakened when we have anything less than pure hatred and fury in our minds.

 

"This allows us to have a particular set of skills and abilities that the Sith don't possess, or at the least, cannot accomplish to the same proficiency. Yes, as I have said, Sith are going to be stronger when it comes to brute force and they can frequently summon the Force much quicker than a Nightsister, but that doesn't mean they are superior. There are many ways to use the Force and to fight that don't require brute force or being nice and straightforward. You fought Tobias twice and failed both times, yet I killed him in a single move without breaking a sweat. I have not survived because of my great strength nor because I know more of the Force than my enemies. I survived because I used what I had wisely and played to my strengths.

 

"So, to answer your question, yes, if you remain loyal and subservient to me, I will teach you how to heal. It comes at a cost because, no matter how we may dress it up, we use the darkness and that inherently weakens our connection to life. When I heal, it takes far longer than what even a Witch can do and I am left weakened for a greater amount of time as result. The problem with you is that were you to attempt to heal as you are and with the way you think, I believe it will severely weaken your ability to use your other abilities. Just as a Sith who dabbles too much in the light side grows weak because he is losing his fury and hatred and reliance on pain, so you too would grow weak from attempting to heal. Before you can heal, you must learn how to use the Force in the way that Nightsisters use it.

 

"There will be limitations to what you can do. Even though I have studied how the Sith use the Force, I am too reliant upon my own upbringing to fully embrace the Sith way. There are some things Sith do that I will never be able to do as powerfully or as quickly, just as there will be Nightsister abilities you could never do as powerfully or proficiently as I can. To allow you to become completely fluent in my native ways would require you to completely abandon all you have learned as a Sith and relearn them through Nightsister ways. I do not wish to do that and I don't think you would either. Despite that, I do believe that, with some time and practice, you could eventually access some limited forms of healing yourself, if not others."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer listened carefully with each word that passed Qaela's lips and noted her smile. He lapped it up like butter, he was truly learning and in the process improving himself.

 

He spoke strangely calm and controlled as opposed to what he was usually like. It seemed Qaela had found a way to ease his storm, through knowledge and the learning thereof. If it was one thing Lucifer loved as much as he did battle it was to learn...to adapt and grow.

 

''I understand. Some methods require more time and energy, for the force is like a endless flow of electricity, and we are but light bulbs who use it but eventually dwindle out if continually using it. The force must be used sparingly. Yet speaking of healing, I do know but one limited form of healing taught to me shortly before my master vanished those years ago. However it requires a...victim. That of using the darkness within to effectively drain or 'siphon' if you will the life force or energy of the force within a person to replenish your own energies but it has a drawback in that it may be blocked by erecting a force barrier effectively cutting the link. But regardless of this flaw it has many uses on the field of battle when a spell may not be quick enough a resolution. If you would permit it I would teach you this method if a willing or unwilling victim can be supplied for the purpose.''

 

Pausing a moment the kiffar continued.

 

''Knowing what I know now, I believe I misjudged you Qaela. In my arrogance I initially took you for a stuck up spoilt brat which was why I dismissed you before without regard, but am glad you are far from it. Despite the limitations I am willing to commit to the effort if you are. Together we will become stronger and prove Furion wrong. Which reminds me, I have something grim to tell you.''

 

Lucifer's face turned deadly serious and grimly sincere. He was telling the truth.

 

''You said to be truthful and never to deceive you thus I will keep my word and speak as such. I have something to say which may or may not come as a surprise to you. Furion has ordered if we should fail I kill you. Which leaves me in a peculiar predicament. I am at odds as to what to do if the time comes knowing what I know now and what I could learn in letting you live. I have much to gain in the latter but my loyalty to the sith would be put in question if I refuse. Hence why I am at odds. Furion would not take kindly to a refusal of his explicit instruction yet I find myself thinking on it considering the options you made available when no-one else did.''

 

Lucifer waited for Qaela's reply with baited breath. Finding himself at odds with himself, he debated if it was really worth obeying the order when the time came or risking Furion's wrath if he didn't. Yet there was much to be gained if he did refuse. Qaela's trust and a new fountain from which to learn. It was a turning point with only two outcomes.

[Qaela]

Qaela nodded when Lucifer described using the Force to drain the life force from others. "I know of what you are talking about. How do you think I saved you when you were so near death back on Coruscant at our first meeting? I used a spell that drained energy from me and gave it to you. It was the reverse of what you just described, though I can take from others if I wanted. That is a large part of how I heal and why it is so draining for me to do it. It isn't the only way I heal, but using my own energy as a base point is what allows me to heal others without it taking days. If I am using that method, I can heal a wound in another within an hour, but the same wound would take me many hours to heal in myself because I have nowhere to attain energy.

 

"That being said, I had not considered the Sith's application of it. I would be eager in learning your methods to see if I could synthesize them with my own and improve them. I would very much like to be more efficient in what I do and to be able to do it quickly. My healing is by no means a combat ability, but I can imagine that yours has some limited applications in battle."

 

Instead of being angry at his initial evaluation of her, she smiled and chuckled. "Don't fool yourself. I am quite the spoiled brat and am not afraid to admit it. I believe that fully understanding oneself and and accepting all of one's flaws and weaknesses is key to overcoming them. I will be the first to admit that I have at times acted spoiled and arrogantly and in doing so, pushed the buttons of those around me to see how they would react. I did it quite a bit with Furion and am surprised at how much he was willing to give. For that, he earned a good deal of respect from me. In my culture, women are what you would consider extremely arrogant. We rule over men who are our slaves. It is an attitude that I have learned to somewhat control as it has gotten me in trouble before. Just as you need to learn to control your tongue, I had to learn how to control my arrogance and pride."

 

She was not surprised at Lucifer's confession. She would have been disappointed had Furion not ordered Lucifer to try to kill her if she failed, and she wasn't afraid to say so. "If Furion had not ordered you to try to kill me, then I would have worried about his future as leader of the Sith. A Sith must be brutal to survive and I expect no less from him or you. He did not need to tell me to kill you should you fail because that is implied."

 

She raised a single finger and said, "The question is, as you have deduced, is whether or not you will place loyalty to clan over his orders. I choose to be bound by certain things, among them loyalty to those I deem as in my clan. That is why I killed Tobias and that is why I am willing to work with you instead of simply waiting for you to mess up so I can justify myself in killing you too. My loyalty does have limits though, especially to someone whom I do not hold close. If you disobey my orders and as result, this mission fails, then I will kill you. If you follow my orders but for some reason the mission fails, then I have no reason to kill you because it would not be your fault. It is as simple as that for me.

 

"You must decide whether you will remain loyal to one who has been loyal to you or if you will stay loyal to your Dark Lord. I do not envy your position, what with having divided loyalties as they are. Just know that I while I demand loyalty from you and will severely punish disloyalty, I do not expect it. I fully expect you to betray me at some point or another. You wouldn't be Sith if you didn't as betrayal is the way of the Sith. The difference is that I accept that risk and am willing to work with it."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

((OOC: Sorry for the shortness and delay. Internet is being funny lately and got a little writer's block.))

 

Lucifer thought about it. He had much to think on along this journey.

 

''I admit my mouth can get the better of me. As for the mission I shall see that we do not fail even if we must travel the galaxy for our prize. But I make no guarantee's as to your fate just as you would not for me, we shall cross that road when it comes.''

 

The kiffar was curious what now was to happen. Much had changed, yet he could not allow the mission to fail or else be forced to make a choice.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Once they were underway during the first jump set, Mirdalal rose from the copilot's seat and gave Kandor a quick kiss on the forehead. "I'm going to go thorough what Mica and Aerios brought me back in my cabin. I know of at least one call yaim that I'll need to make, but I'm going to wait until the next jump point to do it. I want more information before I make that call. This shouldn't take long cyar'ika," her tone had stayed steadily even, devoid of emotion since the two of them had stepped out of the meeting room with the bags of armor pieces in-tow. Mirdala's face had reverted to the unreadable mask that, in someways, was almost like dealing with her when she had her buy'ce on.

 

It wasn't that she was trying to shut him out, but she just needed some time to examine all the evidence before she figured out how she was willing to react. Kandor knew her well enough to know and expect that she would tell him what he needed to know when she was ready. He had been her anchor point more times lately than she cared to remember right now. Recent history aside, however, Kandor had proven himself a man she could trust and one who would go to haran and back for her, and had done so. If her instincts were right, they were on the edge of it again, or at least she was. Mirdala sincerely hoped she was wrong.

 

Instead of unceremoniously dumping the two bags out onto her bunk, Mirdala instead dragged them to the center of the small, but practical living space and began to sort out the various bits of armor. She purposefully left the bag she knew contained the large, familiar, vambrace untouched for now, instead starting with the second armor bag. That was her first mistake.

 

The burn-scarred chest plate that she pulled out of the bag was innocuous enough, but she suddenly felt a flare through the Force stronger than she'd thought possible for her to sense, given how long she'd forced herself to suppress it. Maybe it was a recent change brought on by her healing process after captivity and forced-spice addiction had temporarily first boosted her ability to use the mysterious energy then completely cut her off from it altogether. She didn't know, and knowing didn't stop it from flooding her entire being to the point that it was far more painful than when she'd touched the over-sized arm-guard. A small gasp of pain managed to escape from her lips, as she closed her eyes and drew out the heavy beskar laminate buy'ce.

 

Her heart froze in her chest and seemed to refuse to beat when her jade eyes opened. In her hands she held a very old-style, very distinctive, and very familiar smoky gray and black buy'ce, marred with dried blood and practically missing over half it's transparasteel T-visor. It was several minutes before her brain was able to convince her eyes that what they were seeing was real and it wasn't a miscommunication between her ocular nerve impulses and the receiving neurons in her brain.

 

She shoved the helmet aside, refusing to believe that it was even possible. All her action did however was give her a better view of the blooded insides. Mirdala left it where it lay before moving to finally take up the larger sack.

 

The pain had dulled some, but was still there as she drew the familiar vambrace back out, along with the rest of the pieces - all massively over-sized - and laid them out on the floor as they would have been worn, trying to discern what had done so much damage as to separate the beskar'gam from it's owner, let alone leave dents in the metal.

 

From a young age, she'd been taught by her buir how to read the metal, and how to shape it's ore. It was part of the reason she was a fount of information in regards to the forensics of the material, but even she didn't want to think about what could have separated Hwulf Nort from his beskar'gam, especially as heavy and thick as his plates were. A sudden wash of coldness swept over her.

 

"Kandor," she began, still concentrating on remaining a focused and detached observer, "could you please come here. I'd like you to take a look at these plates before we exit the first jump. I am going to need you to help keep me objective, because I know this beskar'gam - all too well."

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett was content to pilot the ship and let Mirdala figure out what was going on with the bags until she called him back halfway through the first jump. He quietly told 2277 to take over and, as necessary, take them through the remaining jumps to the Enigma if he didn't come back to the cockpit in time to do it manually. Internally he steeled himself when Mirdala confirmed that she was familiar with the man who'd worn the now burnt and empty beskar'gam that the visitors had delivered to her. Verde died and joined the manda frequently, but it was never easy for those close to them.

 

Entering his vessel's very small living area, he got his first good look at the armor. A few things immediately struck him that made it stand out, and he sat down across from her with the main plate between them. "It's very old," he noted. It was in a style that really hadn't been used in perhaps millenia. Beskar was extremely durable and did not succumb to age, so it was possible that this had been passed down over generations. But a lot of armor was lost over the years as warriors died, enormous amounts of beskar being lost on such battlefields as Malachor V and during the Mandalorian Civil War.

 

"It's remarkably damaged, as well," was his second comment. Perhaps the strongest metal in the galaxy, even lightsabers slid almost harmlessly off Mandalorian Iron. "It would take more than a shuttle crash and subsequent fire to do this kind of damage, assuming it's real beskar." The style was so ancient that even that wasn't guaranteed. The discovery of the metal came with the settling of Manda'yaim, but that world was just another conquered planet. He couldn't place just how old this armor was, so he didn't make any assumptions.

 

"It's also... very large," he said finally. He looked at Mirdala. "You said you knew who wore it? Is it painful to share?"

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Something flickered across her face for an instant, but was gone just as quickly. He'd seen the buy'ce she hadn't wanted to deal with, and connected it to the over-sized rig by mistake. She reached out next to her and brought out the larger super-commando style buy'ce that had somehow gotten set behind her, as though she'd subconciously placed it there because she didn't want to stare into the visor of a ghost. She knew deep in her heart that there was only one thing that could have so completely separated Hwulf from his beskar'gam, and she still wasn't ready to consider it. "I'm not sure if the pain is through the Force, or physiological," the woman admitted as she placed the massive tan and green buy'ce at the head of its companion plates. "The vod that wore it was nearly nine feet tall." 

 

She fell silent again as she examined each piece carefully. "All of this is beskar," she remarked with undeniable certainty. "I've been around it my whole life. Who did you think made that beskad'ika on your hip? I know my work, and I'd know my buir's repair work anywhere. Even if I didn't know the aliit markings by heart, triple-laminate beskar isn't something that you commonly find, even today."

 

She seemed to be pointedly ignoring the older-era buy'ce that didn't match the other rigs, that was the piece that was causing her the most pain, but she knew she'd have to deal with it sooner or later. Mirdala still refused to believe that anything could have done that to such hearty equipment. "I know this," she held up the chest piece that seemed to be about the only normal sized piece of armor in the lot up for him to examine, "is heavy Journeyman Protector gear. Most usually get durasteel, but this is beskar laminate, just like my plates and the suit I wore when I worked for them. That's how I knew Mica and his vod. He used to be my CO before I left the Protectors to follow Tracyn as a beroya. That's how he knew I would know who to get these back, but what I don't understand is why he didn't contact the Sector Commander to report the loss of the Protector at least. Though I guess that's not nearly as important as finding answers as to who has done this."

 

Her olive-toned skin paled slightly as she realized the call she was about to have to make to the Concord Dawn Sector Commander, and it was then that she realized that she hadn't spoken to him since she'd left over six years ago. She looked at Kandor as she rose, the regular-sized chest plate still in her hand. "As soon as we're out of hyperspace, I have to call him and report this," she said, giving a slight hesitation before she continued. "It's probably best if you weren't here for this conversation. This is mainly a clan issue, and not one for the Mand'alor to worry about." Mirdala really didn't want him to go, and would have far rather had him at her side when she called the Sector Commander, but she knew that Taen Ad'Nort would see him as more of an intrusion and that would make an already bad situation that much worse. Besides, she had questions that only he could answer and if Fett was there she wouldn't be able to get the intel that she needed. "Ne paravu takisit, Kand'ika. I'll fill you in afterwards. I promise."

 

Manda knows I'll need you after this, she thought to herself. The two of them had come far over the last several weeks, and she wasn't about to toss that aside for what was about to become potentially some particularly nasty aliit business. Suddenly she suspected she knew why Mica had brought the beskar'gam to her doorstep. 

 

She was the one who now had to face the formidable Taen Ad'Nort and report his buir's departure to the Manda. 

[Moon Knight]

"Understood," ShadowFett simply said, willing to follow orders. She still hadn't provided nearly the details that he'd hoped she would, but ultimately this wasn't his business until she made it his. Mirdala was allowed to keep him in the dark as long as she wanted, and it was clear that she had nearly the complete picture in her mind. Without hesitating or lingering, Mand'alor stood back up and headed back to the cockpit, thinking about a way he could busy himself for a few minutes. His weapons were clean--he'd prepped them during the flight over to the Senate building and hadn't fired them since. They'd probably get some limited use during the training ahead, but there came a point where their charge and cleanliness would remain constant no matter how many times he checked them.

 

So he dropped into the pilot's chair, which was built to accomodate his armored frame and rocketpack and as a result was more practical than comfortable. It suited him fine--Fett was a practical man, his people a practical people. His buy'ce removed, he rubbed his eyes. These days were long.

 

"If I may posit an observation, you seem tired, master."

 

With all the private conversations that had happened aboard the Justice recently, it was easy to forget the Fett had two beskar'ade that observed everything that went on. "I'll rest once my work is done, Twenty-two," he responded, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head.

 

"If I may say so, Lieutenant Ad'Goran has made your life immensely more complex," his long-time copilot hazarded.

 

"As if she wasn't worth it!" A second voice chimed from a pocket on Fett's belt, considerably more feminine and enthusiastic compared to 2277's droll observations.

 

The Mando'ad smiled and exhaled in an almost-laugh, but 2277 wasn't done. "Our shared master's life was considerably more focused before his new partnership," the droid countered. "By my estimations, the redistribution of his priorities will begin to decrease his combat effectiveness by 12% in the next six months."

 

"How romantic of you, Twenty-two," Flirt responded, her mechanical voice so thick with sarcasm that Fett could imagine her rolling her eyes as though they were capable of such motion.

 

Fett shook his head, hoping that the privacy fields were working and Mirdala wouldn't overhear the conversation. "Combat isn't all about practice and muscle mass, burc'ya," he said. "There are things that every verd needs to sustain himself that training can never provide."

 

Flirt didn't miss a beat. "Surely you know, master, that 2277 has no appreciation for matters of the heart. Your words, I'm afraid, are falling upon uncomprehending auditory inputs."

 

2277 was silent for a moment. "I will continue to observe and evaluate your performance in the field, as always, master."

 

Moon Knight nodded. "Be sure you do," he answered. "Perhaps you'll witness for yourself what Flirt already suspects."

 

"In your own unromantic, scientific way, there may still be hope for you, Twenty-two, darling," Flirt added. "I must admit, I did not think Master Fett had any hope himself until Mistress Ad'Goran came around..."

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala watched him go, heavily resisting the urge to call him back to her side. She didn't want to be alone when she made the call, but she was left with little option if she ever expected to get the information she wanted from Taen. Taking slow deep breath, as though she were getting ready to plunge in to the swimming pond back on her childhood home of Shogun, she managed to find a slight measure of calm. 

 

As she collected her thoughts in preparation for the call to her call to Taen, she also collected the armor back into the two sacks and sat them next to the communication screen. 

 

It seemed like an eternity before Kandor let her know that they'd dropped out of hyperspace, though it had only really been more like a few minutes. She thanked him, then cut their link, just for the moment, before she dialed out to Concord Dawn. A few heartbeats later she was looking into the dark green eyes of her former employer. 

 

She must have caught him on duty, as he was wearing most of his Protector armor. He pauses for a moment, before recognizing the face in the viewer, and notes the com-codes at the bottom. Betraying no real reaction, he meets her eyes. Well well, Vaar'ika, found yourself a tour in a stone frigate, huh? Lots of comm-calls and bad caff? Slightly mocking, but speaking to her as he always had on duty.

 

The CoreSec Lieutenant eyed him levelly. "You are really going to tease me about taking on a long-term contract in which I help catch and bring the galaxy's scum to justice, sir? It's hardly been that much of a blue milk run." Her tone was flat and didn't even attempt a full rebuttal to his jibe. She did take a measured breath before continuing, a resolute severe and serious expression set her delicate features. She was not in the mood for games or his needling. "Taen Ad'Nort, I will only ask you this once," she warned dangerously, switching to a more archaic dialect of Mando'a. "Where is TeVerd?"

 

Something flickered in Taen's face, too fast for her to really catch it. Was it wariness? Switching to Archaic himself, he answered, Not here, Lt. Ad'Goran. I have no clue where he is. He came in-sector somewhere about a year ago, then buir left a few days after that. Tey said he wouldn't come yaim because he didn't 'want all this falling back on the ad'ike', he paused, his eyes narrowing at her suspiciously. Why are you calling me to ask this now, when you haven't called us in, what, six years?

 

Again, Mirdala ignored him, his answer only serving to cause more questions to burn within her always quick mind. "Keep what from falling back on us Tae'ika?"

 

Her sudden switch from the overly-formal use of his name to calling him by the far more familiar family form of his name only served to put him further on hus guard. Taen's face set in a manner she was quite familiar seeing from Hwulf. I have no idea, Mirdala. There's something going on out there involving either some of the Seekers or the...rest of it. At least two of them have been mailed back here, very dead. I think - I emphasize that word, because I have no solid evidence for it - I think that Tey tried to come yaim a few years ago. Locals reported a great whomping fight out near the Oridune moons. By the time any sector patrol got out near there, it was all over. Four very dead, and very unidentified ships, floating around in various states of intact, and bits of at least one more ship that proved whoever else had been there had probably limped back out of the system...

 

"Osik!" This was not at all what she wanted to be hearing. Mirdala sighed again as she reached behind her into the bag. Taen heard the clattering of plates over the comm channel before she came back into full view. "Tae'ika, how long has it been since anyone has heard from them?" She held the vambrace just outside of the view of the holocam. Her jaw clenched, as though she were already anticipating his answer, and her stomach plummeted, because she now knew where this was heading. No longer could she fully keep up her denial of the overwhelming evidence in front of her, and she didn't want to have to be the bearer of the news she was about to break to her ba'vad, Taen.

 

Taen's eyes got a little wide, taking on a wary look. He considered the question before responding, About three months ago. Buir commed home to sing his bu'ade their lifeday song and arrange a cred transfer to buy them some gifts. Why, Mird'ika?" 

 

Mirdala closed her eyes, not wanting to remember where she had been three months ago. They remained closed as her jaw clenched again, before she simply raised her hand holding the mammoth vambrace, with the inner markings clearly visible to the Taen. "Mica and Aerios stopped by to pass along what they'd found near a crash site and battleground on Abraxos Prima. Please tell me I'm losing my mind and this isn't what it looks like."

 

Osi'kyr! Taen swore, losing it for a minute. He caught himself, and Mirdala can now see it fully. Taen now looked exactly a cross between his buire - Laesha, his Arkanian mother, and Hwulf, his father who bore similar facial markings to Tey. Mirdala, in all the time she's known the Norts, had never suspected that Taen was the genetic son of her ba'vodu Hwulf! He visibly took a deep breath and composed himself. No, Mird'ika - I have no way of denying that that vambrace looks exactly like my buir's. The Seeker marks and the body-count next to them look like they should be the correct shade and number.

 

Taen's breath hissed out. What is going on out there?

 

"I told you, it was brought to me." Her jade eyes darkened for a moment, her voice going cold. "Why don't you tell me why you hid your spots - from me of all people!" Suddenly it became clearer to her how he'd always seemed to know where she was. Her jade eyes narrowed to slits as she continued, "You can't tell me that you haven't at least heard or felt my Ori'vod!" She'd given up controlling her voice level once he'd let the spots slip. Old feelings of betrayal and abandonment rose to the surface faster than she could suppress them with her current mind-set. She reached down and back into the bag again, bringing out a buy'ce covered in an unmistakable warm gray with all-too-familiar black markings and a shattered visor. A few pieces of the transparisteel fell to the decking with a soft tinkling. "This was with the vambrace," her voice broke, "You, can't tell me that you me haven't seen or heard from him in the last fourteen years!" Warm blood began to ooze from her palm as she clutched the open visor slot until her knuckles turned white. 

 

Taen's face was a study in shock. I can't imagine what could do that to one of their buckets... his voice trailed off for a moment as he steeled himself. They're harder than ours... He stopped himself, obviously trying not to stare at the ravaged buy'ce as he continued. 

 

He tried, Mird'ika, he tried. I know he tried when buir called home, hoping you were still here - I think your ba'buir intercepted him several times, though, when you were still here. He watched his young cousin's jaw set and her hand clench against the shattered transparasteel once more. That's what I know for sure. What I felt? Pain? Loneliness? Resolution? Even fear sometimes, and lots of anger. But, whatever he was in the middle of, he didn't want it coming back to Manda'yaim - or yaim. He didn't want you in the middle of it, Mird'ika. 

 

Mirdala's mouth opened, question already forming, but Taen merely held up his hand, knowing his ba'vad well enough to know what was about to come out of her mouth. "Don't ask me what it was, I don't know.  They've kept me out of it as much as possible.  I don't know exactly what set it off, but I know a lot of the Seekers were getting involved somewhere.  Even [/i]buir didn't know much until last year - your ori'vod was trying to let him retire... Taen's voice cracked, and he took a moment with his head down. As for why I've never worn my birthmarks around you, ba'vad - for the exact same reason Tey taught you to Hide. If someone is hunting the Seekers, they'd be quite willing to take it to their families. Like you, Mird'ika - I was raised to not be involved in that part of their lives... Taen trailed off, obviously searching for words.

 

"But to shut me out completely!" She seethed, the transparasteel cutting deeper into her palm, as she took advantage of her ba'vad's pause. "To forget about me...He trained me to be strong, but he didn't think I was strong enough to trust with the truth of what he did, of who he really was." It hurt her deeply to know that Tey had been out there alone, let alone scared at times. In all the time that she'd known him, she'd never felt fear from her ori'vod. Whatever he'd gotten into, it was bad enough to shake her unflappable older brother, and she didn't like that one bit. Still, her mind, could not, would not consider the possibility that the damaged buy'ce in her bleeding fist belonged to her brother. It had to be a mistake. 

 

"Whatever happened to 'Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya' Tae'ika? Has he lied to me my entire life? Well, at least the short while he was part of it," she retorted derisively. Her voice had risen to the point she was yelling at her cousin, but she wasn't finished and she didn't care if it carried past the privacy barrier to within earshot of Kandor. She doubted he knew the old dialects anyway.

 

"How many do I have to loose for him to get it through that thick skull of his that I'm not a little girl anymore! He didn't seem to care when I lost my buire, didn't even bother to show up when I'd married Tracyn, not even an acknowledgment when my riduur was murdered only a few short years later. He didn't even care when ba'buir died. How can he claim to have cared about me? What was his aim? Train me enough so that I wouldn't be one more headache that he'd be forced to deal with later then forget about me when something bigger came along? You're one of them, did he even really ever care about me?" 

 

Part of her knew the stinging words carried a bit too far, but she couldn't control the weight that was suddenly pressing down on her chest any longer. Her instinctive need to lash out and vent all the anger, hurt, and feelings of betrayal she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying up until now came to the forefront and there was nothing she could do to stop them. It didn't matter that Taen and the rest of his family had no way of knowing that Tracyn had been murdered two years before, if they'd even known that she'd married at all. Mirdala was staunchly in denial about out out-of-touch she'd been with the only people left that seemed to really understand her. 

 

       Taen weathered the storm of her sharp tongue, using all the calm he could muster, but he finally snapped when she began insinuating that his ba'vodu would cast all thought or consideration for her aside. Forget you? Forget you?!?!?! His voice was a climbing growl now. 

 

Dikut'la dar'haa'tayir ad'ika! You see that wreck in your hands? Turn it around, under those smears... his voice dropped a little when he had to admit to himself what those smears would be - the dried blood of his ba'vodu Tey, mixing with the fresh red blood of his cousin. He crossed his arms, glaring at her as he let the realization sink in to the ever-atin dala'ika. 

 

As far as forgetting, Mird'ika - why didn't you ever feel for him, and did you ever try to com him, or look for him? Or were you just wandering around waiting for him to be the responsible one?

 

Never before had Taen ever spoken to her in such a harsh manner, though, she realized it wasn't wholly undeserved. Blinking back tears of anger, hurt and frustration, she turned the buy'ce for further examination. 

 

There, just where Taen had indicated, was a red symbol, partially obscured by the dried brown blood of it's previous owner. Mirdala, could barely get past the lump in her throat. Beneath the smears lay the hunt-partner badge of her and Tey. He hadn't forgotten about her, in fact, it was quite the contrary. 

 

Taen's voice softened slightly. He added that to his buy'ce after you passed your verd'goten. Di'kut. Even though it made his rig more distinctive. Tey was prouder and more attached to you than he's been to anyone in the time Buir knew him. Taen stopped, swallowed, and continued, because his cousin deserved to hear it. No, because she needed to - every ad'ika needed to know she was loved, no matter how old she got. He never forgot about you, Mird'ika - he just couldn't catch up to you before the world got so nasty that he probably thought it was safer to lead them away...

 

Suddenly all the fight left her, and she found she had no real response other than a barely audible, "It's one of the reasons I left. It wasn't wholly to follow Tracyn." She didn't even bother to try to stop what tears broke past her defenses. Mirdala couldn't bring herself to openly admit in front of Taen how utterly self-absorbed she'd been when it came to the matter of trying to track down her Ori'vod. "You know why I had to shut that part of myself down," she shot back venomously at her kinsman. "I couldn't risk another Ca, and it cost me my only connection to him..."

 

Taen barreled through her attempt to defend herself, trying to force his cousin beyond her short-sighted and blind anger by reminding her of the dangers. He trained you to survive, Mird'ika - he trained you in things I know he shouldn't have! But he did it because he wanted you to live a long, happy life, he paused again, knowing that he'd gotten through her thick skull. 

 

There's someone out there, Mird'ika, who is hunting people like your vod. Taen took a breath, a little vented, but still angry with his much-younger kinswoman, and they're doing a damn good job of it. If we take in a couple of other whispers I've heard, we've lost ten of them in the last seven years. And we were losing them before that, too...  

 

She let that sink in for a moment before she responded, "If I was really his traat'aliit'ad, then why train me then leave me behind?"

 

She was grasping at straws now, and she knew her Arkanian-hybrid cousin knew it too as he continued with a venom and vigor of his own. As for taking you with him ba'vad - remember that time you smuggled away with him? I know you remember your first case as a Protector because you just told me you did by telling me you purposefully shut yourself down rather than becoming or attracting more demagolkase." He was digging at her now, possibly harder than he needed to, but he couldn't risk her going out and doing something very Tey-like in her blind anger. 

 

She shot him back a cold look of contempt, but said nothing. 

 

That's who they hunt - all the time! Do you think you'd have been okay, knowing that that's what you had to see every hunt?

 

Her eyes narrowed, but she still gave no verbal response. 

 

There was no way Tey wanted you exposed to them. Would you really want to turn into Tey? He crossed his arms, glaring, voice very low. 

 

Mirdala didn't see what was so wrong with that, and Taen insinuating that her ori'vod was anything monstrous because he was willing to do what he had to in order to protect her caused her anger to flare once more. "You say that like what he and ba'vodu do is a bad thing," she fired back venomously. 

 

Taen tensed up. Not a bad thing, necessarily. But you do have to understand my distaste for a ba'vodu that would drag his vode into what seemed to be a one-man crusade. TeVerd was an amazing soldier, but he let the mission consume him. To the point that he forgot that he had obligations here. The way he sauntered off without a backward worry about what shape you'd be in, really left a bad impression, Mird'ika. I admire the attachment he had to you, but he still let the bitterness of a Seeker's mission consume him. The redeeming part of this was that he was aware enough of it to try to keep it from getting to you.

 

"You say that like he expected ner buire to be murdered!" Old anger long buried flared hot once again as she suddenly felt as though she were in her late teens again, fighting to cope with the loss of her entire aliit in one fateful day. "Ba'vodu said that he had to have a good reason to stay away. Shab you convinced me as much. If you and your aliit cared about me so much why didn't ba'vodu adopt me? We both know that ba'buir didn't really know or understand me. Or am I that much of a danger that you always claimed to be aliit, yet all you ever did was baby-sit me. You accuse me of not looking for him harder, what about the fact that you did your damnedest to keep me planet-side? If Mica hadn't given my my chance -"

 

A vein started pulsing in Taen's cheek and he cut her off before he allowed her to finish the thought. Mica gave you a chance, did he?? What about the fact that following that beroya took you away from your aliit?  You do know that's why Mica no longer works for me, don't you? Because we had a very blunt discussion about what he was and wasn't allowed to do with the officers he commanded. Especially when one of them was my ba'vad, who my family, despite her belief to the contrary, loves very much.  

 

Why did I do my damnedest to keep you around? Because I made that promise to your Ba'buir.  Originally, she was going to try to make you a good little housewife or some such nonsense. But I had one of my 'frank and honest' discussions with her, as well. Besides - if I hadn't made you a Protector, when would my Buire and vod'ikase have ever gotten to see you?  

 

Taen ground his teeth a little, making a raspy click over the pick up. As for Gai bal Manda, that, too, was a rather pointed argument. It's one that Buir lost. He certainly wanted and expected to. But Buir'ika pointed out that it might be better for you if you weren't surrounded by your ori'vod's closest friends all day. We struck a compromise - your ba'buir got to have you live with her, so she felt like she was taking care of her aliit, and I got to train you, so that Buir & I could do our duty to aliit, and to TeVerd, as best we could, as well. And having you in my command meant that the aliit got to see you and try to remind you that you weren't aways alone, just sometimes in that tiny little mind of yours!

 

Taen stopped, visibly collecting himself and centering himself. Did TeVerd have a good reason for staying away? All signs point to yes. But, I certainly think he might have tried harder to be there for you however much he could. And yes, Mirdala Ad'Goran, what he did was certainly a worthy ethos - without them, we'd have more monsters like Ca in this life. He swallowed, for a moment, his own pain finally becoming more than he can hold back. I just wish he hadn't called my Buir...

 

"Tae'ika...Tracyn's been dead for a little over two years now..." Mirdala began, her own anger halted by the pain her ba'vad was finally allowing to show coupled with the remembered pain Tracyn's death had caused her. He'd always been so reserved and had never broken down around her before. Suddenly she felt very guilty for lashing out at him, when he hadn't deserved any of it. Knowing the truth of events all those years before on Concord Dawn somehow helped it sink into her thick skull just how far Hwulf and the rest of the Ad'Norts had gone to remain in her life while still trying to let her be her own person. The guilt about losing touch with them now consumed her along with her own grief over her ba'vodu[/u]'s death. 

 

She still wasn't ready to accept that anyone could have taken Tey out.

 

"Ne paravu takisit," she finally apologized, her tone was of utter remorse and contrition, "...I just don't know how to handle this on top of everything else that I've been through lately. I feel like so much was kept from me; that I wasn't trusted to know the truth of things even as I got older." Her own jaw clenched, and she found tears of her own forming at the corner of her eyes. "I shouldn't have started accusing you or our aliit. I'm sorry ori'vod drug ba'vodu back into things." 

 

She didn't want to think about how bad things must have gotten for Tey that he was calling Hwulf out of retirement and away from the aliit to which he was so dedicated. Though her face was still set, tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry for shutting myself off from you and the rest of the aliit."

 

Taen stared at his ba'vad for several long moments, collecting himself, and sighs. It's okay, Vaar'ika - nobody ever accused you of having an excess of self control. His own voice is husky and as close to defeated as Mirdala had ever heard him. As much as I thought I was braced for this, I never really expected to out-live TeVerd or Buir. I'm sorry things got so ugly for you so fast, and I know how much you have to be hurting right now.  I'm also sorry we never thought to sit you down and lay this all out. I guess, in spite of ourselves, we got lost thinking of you as one of the ad'ike, and didn't accept enough the concept that you were adult enough to deserve to know.

 

Udesii, Ba'vad - we're still aliit. I think we both need to stop and remember that before we do something insane. We need to get back in the habit of trusting aliit with things, no? And we also, truly, need to work on putting this aliit back together. Someone's hunting the Seekers, at least, and now they've hurt us..." He says, clearly meaning their family.

 

He meets Mirdala's eyes levelly. "You're the clan member on site, and you have all the new evidence with you. How do you want to handle this, Mird'ika?

 

Mirdala cast her gaze back towards the vague direction of the Justice's cockpit, suddenly feeling very homesick. Right now, there was nowhere she wanted to be other than striding up to the Ad'Nort's settlement to help her ba'vodu Laesha prepare a meal for the whole family. Still, Taen's suspicions and warnings hadn't completely fallen on deaf ears, despite how angry she'd been. She could be the one that was being watched now and the last thing she needed to do was lead whoever was behind all this to what now remained of her extended aliit. "I need to go dark for a bit," she admitted. 

 

Taen's eye narrowed at her, but she held up her free hand to halt his objections. "It has nothing to do with all of this landing in my lap. It's scheduled training. I'm not going to go off and do something dikut'la. Believe me when I say there's at least one other vod with me that wouldn't hesitate to kick my shebs. I haven't forgotten who I am, despite the change in uniform. I will contact you when I can. You don't be a dikut either."

 

You want me to keep being related to you, or what?

 

"I could say the same. Let's just agree to keep in better touch. Vaar'ika out." 

 

Taen nodded once, satisfied that he'd gotten his points across and that his ba'vad had cleared her head enough to the point that she'd be able to at least process evidence with a sounder mind. He knew her well enough to know she hadn't been willing to accept the truth of TeVerd's death, despite the blood-coated buy'ce in her hand. He cut the link without another word, trusting his ba'vad to keep hers. 

 

As soon as the comm link had broken and the screen confirmed as much, Mirdala sank back to the floor, cradling the pair of buy'ce in her lap, her tears still falling in silent resolve to put an end to whatever had cost the owner's their lives. 

 

Here, alone and in mid space-flight jump, she drew deep within herself, finding a part of her long forgotten and long buried. With all her will she flared out, trying to reach TeVerd, so much so that it hurt and drained her. She didn't care, she refused to believe that anything could take him down. Again, she flared through the empathic connection the two of them had shared, but again got no response. 

 

Finally she reopened the link she and Fett used. "Kand'ika," she said, her voice betraying her mental and physical exhaustion, "we can finish our journey now."

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett chatted with his beskar'ade a little more while taking the Justice to the next set to coordinates for the jump that would take them the rest of the way to the Enigma. He had to admit it was amusing how they played off each other, two mechanical minds that had once been designed into a facsimile of life having taken on their own personalities through time and experience. Living machines, they were so much more than artificial persons, and what's more, they gave him an edge. He was no experienced slicer, but he didn't need to be one. Flirt, with all her charm, had ways of getting even the toughest security systems to open up. 2277 was like a database in his kovid and an extra set of eyes in his buy'ce--even a translator when he needed one.

 

As he was reaching the next jump point, he faintly heard shouting coming from the living area. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to listen without shutting off the privacy fields, and gathered that it was being spoken in a somewhat archaic form of Mando'a. He set his jaw and turned his attention back to the controls. Even though he probably could have listened in and figured out what was being said despite the dialect, it wasn't his business--not yet, anyway. Besides, as a beroya who could be accused of being paranoid with some basis, he by default recorded all incoming and outgoing holocom packets, so if it became important for him to do so, he could listen back later. Unless Mirdala suddenly dropped off the radar, he wouldn't need to.

 

Finally, after longer than he'd thought, she re-established their link and told him to finish the jump. He could tell she was completely drained, but her voice made it sound like the shouting had been cathartic. Yes, there were more troubled times ahead. But these were troubles that she could face standing up. She wouldn't have to stumble, drugged and beaten as she had been on Tatooine, through a nightmare that not even the greatest of verde could shatter on their own.

 

Making sure the inertial compensators were dialed up, he made the jump to hyperspace. This one was very short--only a couple minutes--as they had executed the majority of their rather short trip in the first leg. "Twenty-two, finish the jump and transmit our security clearance to the Enigma when we arrive, then set us down."

 

Then he stood and headed back into the living area to find Mirdala looking as drained as she had sounded. "You don't look so good," he told her. "Anything I should know?"

 

((You can continue here or in the Enigma's thread, since the jump is short. I feel like we're keeping Kitt waiting...))

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((One last post here then you can bring us in.))

 

Mirdala looked up at him from the floor, her eyes still vaguely watery from the tears she couldn't prevent from flowing. "I had to tell Taen his buir died. He had to tell me that ner ori'vod had been the one to call him away." Her voice broke and she held up the massive tan and green buy'ce, "Hwulf is my ba'vodu. I haven't spoken to him in over six years, and now I can't even go yaim to take his beskar'gam back!" The weight of her guilt was apparent, but there was also a cold calm anger that burned behind her eyes as she sat the beyond over-sized buy'ce on the floor between them. Her iron grip still clamped onto the other far more damaged buy'ce. 

 

"And it's not because we're heading to train," she interjected before he could answer. "If it were that, I'd go and return..." 

 

She was now cradling the ruined helmet in her hands as she looked up at him, hesitating as to how much of her conversation she should share with him. No doubt he'd heard the yelling. It was in the several silent moments of meeting his eyes while considering everything that had just been brought to her that she noticed the burning pain in her hand. It seemed to snap her back, and she looked at her hand clasping the broken-out T-visor section. As her hand came away, bits of transparasteel remained in the ragged cut. 

 

Mirdala rose, finally setting aside the other buy'ce and dug her med kit out of her bag from the Rangir. It was wrapped carefully in a very old fatigue jacket she'd had since she was a small child. Her jaw clenched again as her fingers brushed against the soft, worn fabric for a moment before retrieving the kit. It was then she decided that Kandor at least had a right to know a slightly more than general idea of what she now knew. Information withheld by a hunt-partner could be deadly. She'd nearly learned that the hard way, though luck had been on her side the day she'd faced the demagolka, Ca.

 

With a long, slow intake of breath she turned back to face her traat'aliit'ad. "Kandor, what I'm about to tell you is something I know that Taen wouldn't appreciate me sharing outside the aliit." She hissed in pain as the antiseptic spray from the kit hit the raw skin as the chemicals mixed with whatever caustic residue had been on the buy'ce and thus, also transferred to the wound in her hand. The burning grew worse, so she crossed the room and ran cold water over the wound until the burning had lessened. "I'm telling you this not just because we're traat'aliit'ade, but because we're more than that to each other. I don't want lack of information to get you killed." 

 

Her eyes narrowed slightly in warning as she ammended "Whatever else, this is not something Kitt needs to know. Having a Jetii get involved would just make the situation much worse, no matter how well-intentioned..." Mirdala let the sentiment settle for a moment before she continued.

 

"Hwulf's death is apparently not the first, someone is hunting us, and others like my aliit. According to ner ba'vad, there have been ten in the last seven years - starting just before I left the Protectors to follow Tracyn. That's why I can't go yaim. TeVerd and Hwulf have done their best to keep them away from my generation. If someone knows that the beskar'gam from Abraxos was brought to me, then I could be getting monitored as well."

 

"If you don't think you can follow my lead and keep this between us, please back out now. I don't want to have to worry about someone else blundering into my aliit business and making things worse."

 

Her eyes darkened again as she glanced over to the shattered buy'ce, still doing her best to deny the truth that was staring back at her through the gaping T-shaped opening, her eyes resting on the hunt-partner badge. Suddenly her tone shifted as she finished bandaging her hand, not treating it beyond the water, antiseptic and bandage, and she seemed distantly lost in the thoughts of her past. 

 

"It's funny..." she began cryptically, "the secrets and truths learned after death, especially of one that you're close to..." 

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett appreciated the much more complete explanation, although there were obviously details she had still left out. It begged the question as to why her aliit was being hunted, just what enemies they had made. Few could hunt a clan of hunters. She also hadn't yet explained who owned the second beskar'gam, but Fett was sharp-minded. If it had been Mirdala's ori'vod that had pulled her ba'vodu into the mission, it seemed likely that both of them had died. Indeed, he might think less of TeVerd if he had called on his clan for help and gotten them killed without giving his life first. Yet Mirdala's unwillingness to label the buy'ce as belonging to TeVerd meant she was either unwilling to face the evidence or she knew something to make her suspect that he was alive despite it. Either way, it wasn't Fett's job to bring it up.

 

"Mirdala, your aliit is my aliit; your secrets, my secrets," he answered. "I will certainly follow your lead on this. But from what you say, it sounds like this hunt has gone on long enough. If whoever's hunting your aliit traced the beskar to you, laying low is no longer an option. I recommend you gather everyone still on the inside and we turn to unmask and defeat this threat on our terms, rather than wait for it to choose the next time and place to strike." It went without saying that he would be willing to use some of his not-inconsiderable resources to help in this endeavor. She knew firsthand how difficult he was to stop when he set his mind to something.

 

2277's voice came over the intercom informing them that they were arriving at the Enigma. They hadn't even felt the ship slipping out of hyperspace, as per Fett's instructions.

[Mercury]

Aboard the Grasstiger en route to Haruun Kal

 

Kharjo clutched his dear baby sister as she continued to cry into his shoulder. He was surprised by how tiny she was, how innocent. He wanted more than anything else to protect her. He wanted to shelter her from the horrors he’d witnessed and keep her safe from all the evil in the galaxy. He realized he could not and felt a twinge of sadness. Was this how his Master felt at that realization? Had they swapped places in that instant? It gave the cub a bit of perspective he did not expect and with it a bit of comfort. The hurricane about them began to quiet ever so slightly. Kharjo pulled away from his baby sister, clutching her still by the shoulders and looked upon her. Her big blue eyes were flecked with bits of grey and green and she looked upon him irreverently. He smiled at her, opened his mouth to say something and found himself at a loss for words. Indeed, she looked like a younger, feminine version of him. Yet, where he looked like an equal blend between snow leopard and lion, his baby sister was more leopard. Her childish features were rounder; her eyes were bigger than his. Her coat was lighter with spots of brown and black throughout her entire body. She was dressed in a nightgown of lilac with images of a blonde princess frolicking in a bed of roses.

 

Finally, Kharjo withdrew from her and smiled once more. He relaxed his hold over her and she brought a tiny hand to her eyes to wipe away some of her tears. Relief was awash across her visage and Kharjo stayed her hands as he began drying her eyes. “Hush, little one,” he cooed sweetly. “I am here now. You aren’t alone anymore. Momma and Papa will see that too.”

 

“Momma talks about you a lot, Kharjo,” his baby sister commented offhandedly.

 

Kharjo blinked and smiled beside himself as he dried the last of her tears. His smile grew wide and became toothy and wolfish. He flashed her his pearly-white teeth in an impish fashion that caused her to giggle.

 

“Momma and Papa miss you the most, Kharjo.” She added in a small voice. She dropped her gaze; somehow comprehending that what she was saying would wound him. And so it did. “How come you never write or holocall? Pieta does.”

 

Kharjo blinked again, stung by her words. He opened his mouth to try to explain to her that he could not. That Master Erath and the other Council members forbade him from calling home. ‘A Jedi’s life is one led without attachment,’ Master Erath was fond of telling him. But, as he began to formulate what he would say, he realized that none of it would make sense to her. She was far too young to comprehend any of it. All she knew was that her older sister, who was also a Jedi stayed in contact with her family and that Kharjo did not. He realized how much this must have hurt his parents and dropped his head. Suddenly, the strain from his legs grew great and his thighs quaked massively before buckling as he sank into the sand. He rose his head and looked upon her with sad eyes.

 

“I was not allowed to baby sister.” He stated simply, sadly, “I am so sorry.”

 

“It’s ok, big brother!” She exclaimed with a broad, impish smile. “I knew big brother was busy being a hero!”

 

Kharjo smiled beside himself and found his spirits lifted. The faith of small children was astonishing as was their willingness to forgive. He felt instantly a bit better and brought her close to him. He gave her a bear hug, filled with all the repressed emotions and longing he’d experienced throughout his service to the Jedi. As he released it upon her, she grabbed him and held him tightly. Her small hands pulled at the tattered remains of his robes. She began to giggle as he rocked her in his arms.

 

“I love you with all my heart, baby sister.” He whispered into her ear. “I will always protect you.”

 

Unbeknownst to him a presence entered the world of his creation and landed softly in the sand a few meters from him and his sister. She was the first to notice and her large blue eyes with flecks of grey and green went wide. She wiggled free of his hold and dashed across the sand, fresh tears stinging her eyes. She slammed into the figure full-force and buried her head into him. She began babbling, although Kharjo could not hear what she said. All he knew was that his baby sister was there in his arms one moment and then gone in the next. For half a heartbeat he thought it some cruel joke or trick played upon him by his mind and inner darkness. The hurricane about them intensified briefly. He looked up confused and followed her trail. His eyes steadily rose until he looked upon the form of his Jedi Master. Shock overcame confusion as he wondered how it was possible that his Master was here. Then he wondered if he were truly there at all.

 

His mouth fell open and he felt himself shift to better look upon his Master. He was dressed stately in his Jedi robes and exuded a sense of peace and tranquility. He had a commanding presence about him. Even as he cradled the smallest Shavir in his arms, he looked upon Kharjo lovingly. Kharjo cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. The tattered remains of his robes twisted in the winds that buffeted them. Kharjo rose and numbly, slowly began walking towards them. As he stood, his blouse slipped off him revealing his bare chest and the dinginess of his usually immaculate and shiny fur coat. His trousers were no longer that, but tattered shorts of misshapen and uneven length. His breath caught in his throat and felt himself moving faster toward his Master’s side.

 

Suddenly something restrained him and he slowed as he watched Dashel comfort his baby sister. Dashel looked up and smiled warmly at Kharjo. “Hello, Padawan,” Dashel said softly. “I think it’s time you and I talked about everything that has happened throughout our time together, especially the events on Coruscant.”

 

Kharjo blinked and opened and closed his mouth as he searched for words. In the end he returned his Master’s smile as he stepped to his side. He stood before his Master and waited. In the back his mind he wondered if now was really the best time for such a conversation, but then quickly realized that this was perhaps the only time to have such a conversation. Trepidation quickly took hold and the winds buffeted the trio violently. Kharjo had to wrestle with his emotions to keep his composure and reassure himself that what Dashel would say needed to be said. The older man would not be harsh without purpose.

 

“From the onset of our meeting, I have known you were an emotional Jedi. You have fought and wrestled with abandonment all your life and have been until recently slow to trust. In spite of all this, you have grown to trust others in your life and you have begun down the path of a Jedi Knight. For that, I am proud of you, Padawan.

 

“However, in order for you to move forward, you need to let that trust in others blossom. Not everyone in the galaxy is evil. Most are misguided. There are those around you that care about you. I see that you are realizing that, but Padawan, you need to believe that. Let go of all the negativity you hold in your heart. It is not the path of a proper Jedi and could lead to your Fall.”

 

He paused then, one hand still upon the shoulder of Kharjo’s baby sister and let his words sink in. Kharjo stared up at him, reassured, but still confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that his Master raised a hand to wave him off. Dashel continued to talk at length about Kharjo’s emotional state. With each example he gave, he listed alternate ways in which Kharjo could have handled the situation. He never once said that Kharjo had poorly handled his emotions, just that he did not control them as a Jedi would. As Kharjo listened Dashel’s words it began to make sense to him and while he felt he had made considerable progress with the Jedi, he realized that he was still a great deal off from thinking as a Jedi should. He could not detach himself from a situation and think critically and only upon the facts presented before him. His emotions clouded his judgment and colored his reactions. Kharjo found himself nodding along to what Dashel was saying and knew that he would have to meditate on this later.

 

Effortlessly, Dashel transitioned topics. “Padawan, you have taught me a great deal about myself and how I train Padawans. You have opened my eyes and I thank you. In the past there was always a barrier between myself and my Padawans. With you none exist. That is a good thing, however it also forces me to examine feelings I have not experienced before. I want to protect and shelter you from the horrors and harsh realities of the galaxy, as a father would his son. That is not the proper way of a Jedi. It is also impossible for me to do. This is something hard for me to accept, but the wisdom of my many years in the service to the Jedi and my time with the Trianii Rangers has offered me the solace to accept this truth. All I can do is teach you all I know and guide you when you seek guidance.

 

“Do you understand?”

 

Kharjo nodded, not knowing what else to do or say. So, it was true. Dashel did care for him in much the same way Kharjo did. Dashel had grown to be the closest thing to a proper father figure Kharjo had ever known and he was heartened to find that Dashel felt the same way. It was a similar feeling he experienced when he first met his baby sister. All he wanted to do was protect her and shelter her, but he could not, cannot. She would not grow that way and would be unprepared for the challenges ahead, much as Kharjo would if Dashel did that to him. He smiled as wisdom assailed him.

 

“Now, Padawan, I fully expect you to teach others these unique abilities you seem to have. The ability to store and recall vast portions of information on a whim and with the guidance of the Force could be of great help to Jedi everywhere. So could this technique of yours to generate a safe harbor within your mind and the Force to shelter you. I do not expect you to do this now as I don’t expect you to have enough grasp over the Force. Someday – and that day will come, I will expect this of you.”

 

Kharjo nodded solemnly and promised to himself that he would redouble his efforts to strengthen his understanding and comprehension of the Force. “Yes, Master. I will do this gladly when I can.”

 

“Good.”

 

Dashel paused then and moved the hand from Kharjo’s baby sister’s shoulder to muss with her hair. She had been watching the exchange between Master and Padawan with great interest and written upon her face were more questions than answer for them. Kharjo too looked upon his baby sister and smiled again. Each time he beheld her he felt a little bit better, a little bit stronger in his belief of others and what his mission would be. As he looked upon her, he smiled purposefully. Once the gravity of Dashel’s words had set in enough, he continued.

 

“Now, Kharjo, this is where you talk and I listen.” He began politely and with a slight knowing smile. “Tell me, Padawan, what is on your mind?”

 

Kharjo blinked. He hadn’t expected this. He had prepared himself for a lecture of sorts, one that was just as much a reflection on his life and the events that intertwined the two of them. Now that he stood before Master Dashel Illioni and had the floor to speak he didn’t rightly know what to say. Where should he begin? He blinked again, a nervous reflex of his he used to buy time. Eventually, and subtly his mind went blank and his mouth opened. Words tumbled out unfiltered.

 

“Master, I don’t understand. What is so special about me? Why is my ancestor visiting me? What is my brother after? And what does he want with me? How am I here? For that matter how are you and my baby sister here? There’s so much I don’t understand.”

 

Kharjo’s gaze fell from his Master’s eyes and he searched the sand beneath his padded feet. The gale about them continued to assault his body, but for whatever reason his baby sister seemed entirely unaffected. He felt slightly disheartened by how much he did not comprehend as he prided himself on being knowledgeable.

 

In a small voice he repeated, “There’s so much I don’t understand.”

 

Dashel smiled knowingly as he listened to his Padawan’s concerns. “First of all, trust in the Force. Always. Secondly, you are here because you needed to be here. I suspect that the mental toll of today’s events taxed your mind to its limits and it regressed to this safe place in order to protect itself. It is, as I said, some innate talent you have. Once you become more knowledgeable in Force application you’ll begin to be able to come here whenever you like and not just when your mind has reached its limits. As for why I am here, you called me here, Padawan. Did you not? Your ancestor Jaqen opened the door that allowed me to enter this sanctuary, but it was you who called me.

 

“As for your baby sister, I feel it was a combination of need and suffering. I suspect your Sith brother was targeting her in her sleep and that she reached out for someone protective. And with you here with all your mental barriers down, unprotected by other Force Users of raw talent or skill, she was able to breach this place through your indefinable bond and bloodline. I suspect your brother might be able to do the same, should he discover this place.

 

“Padawan, there are a great many people who care for you and that makes you special. However, your connection to Jaqen and the events that transpired throughout his life are what truly make you so. You are destined to uncover these mysteries and right some ancient wrong to prevent the cycle from continuing. Your brother is the antagonist in all of this. He wishes to repeat history, I suspect and will allow whatever calamity that happened to happen again. I suspect it involves some sort of weapon that was deployed on Cathar during your ancestor’s time, something that he tried to prevent, but could not. How or why he has chosen you as his avatar remains to be seen, but we will discover that as well.

 

“More importantly, Padawan you are loved. And that love makes you special. You might not readily sense it, but I assure you it’s there and does exist. It is this love and the bond that it creates between you and others that makes you so special. Your innocence and naivety do you great credit, young one. You have not been tainted by the harsh realities of the galaxy. That is not a weakness, so you should never perceive it as one. However, you must find a way to open yourself to the belief that you are loved and return that love back in earnest. When you can you will begin to realize that these factors have placed you in an unique situation that will offer you incredible growth. But, be mindful, Padawan, that you do not let your pride interfere with that growth. You must always separate the two. Your love for others and the love you receive. If you do this, you will be able to prevent the inevitable loss you will experience throughout your life and prevent the Fall that might come from it.

 

“Now, is there anything more you’d wish to discuss, Padawan?”

 

Kharjo pondered all that had been said and slowly shook his head. It all made sense to him and so he was satisfied. “No, Master. I do not.”

 

“Alright, then, let’s move on, then.” Dashel said evenly. “I want to explain why the Gala is so important to us. It is not only because of its significance to you, but its significance to our larger mission of uncovering your brother’s plans. By deciding to attend the Gala you bound a great many people to that event and it is always important to keep your promises. However, through as-of-yet unknown means your brother discovered your intentions and so plans on subverting them. If he is successful in showing you that he will go to any length to get you to join him, then he has won and he will have all the pieces he needs to reenact history. It is important that you understand that, Kharjo. I have no doubts that he will strike at the gala with the intent of upending your world. How or when this will happen remains to be seen. Whatever happens, Padawan, I have faith that you will overcome it and best your brother.

 

“You have a lot of supporters now, Kharjo. You aren’t alone. You also made a promise to Alyssa Greene and it is important that you keep that promise. You need to explore your feelings toward her, admit them to not only yourself, but to her as well. Face them and see where they lead you. However, you must also remember that Jedi do not become overly attached as those very attachments can be used to harm and corrupt us. You must also be mindful of those feelings you develop for her. If they become too strong, if they begin to control you, selfishness will ensue and the path to the Darkside will truly have begun. A Jedi must be mindful of his emotions. As we are all living, breathing and beating creatures it is impossible for a Jedi to deny their emotions. You must learn to control them. You may feel whatever you want, but you must be mindful to not let those feeling consume you.

 

“Do you understand, Kharjo?”

 

He gave his Padawan an inquisitive look. Kharjo frowned, surprised by his Master’s honesty. He had not expected his burgeoning feelings for Alyssa to come up in discussion. He was not even sure what he truly felt her. Surely, infatuation was there, that was evident enough for both of them. They had too much history and that fact worried Kharjo. He didn’t want to ruin anything if they weren’t compatible. As he realized that, his expression slid toward astonishment. He had not realized he wanted a relationship from her until just then. It felt gratifying to admit it and Dashel saw this flash across Kharjo’s visage. Kharjo vowed to discuss his feelings with Alyssa, no matter how hard it would be.

 

“No, Padawan, I need you to understand. You need to understand the gravity of this. I don’t want to scare you, but you need to understand the ramifications. Feel what you feel, but control it, moderate it. Be patient. If it does not work out, reconcile the differences between you two immediately and then move forward. If you do not it could spell disaster for either of you in the future. Be mindful of this when you talk to her. Be aware of what you say and how you say it, but never forget that it needs to be said. I have faith in you.”

 

Kharjo scratched his head uncomfortably. Suddenly, Dashel had grown serious to the point it was unnerving the youth slightly. He could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. Kharjo did not doubt that it had something to do with his feline ancestry and the severe features of his face. Most notably his eyes would glow with surprising intensity when he grew adamant about a topic. Kharjo began to shift as he stood there, fidgeting followed. “Y-yes, Master. I understand. I will heed your warning and be mindful of all you have said. I’m still not sure I want to do this, but I get the feeling I have to and should in spite of what I want.”

 

He sighed dejectedly to himself thereafter. “Silly, Kharjo!” His baby sister giggled when she became aware of his discomfort. Her childish exuberance and laughter made Kharjo lighten up considerably. Dashel nodded and said no more on the topic, swiftly moving onto the subject of the Ysalamiri. He described in detail and at length what the furry lizards did and were capable of and what it felt like to be within a Ysalamiri’s bubble. He also explained that many mercenaries, criminals, law enforcement agencies and in general non-Force Users employed the lizards because of their effect to level the playing field. In actuality Kharjo realized it gave non-Force Users an advantage over Force Users, since those that could feel the Force and bend it to their will relied upon that same connection to get by. He was startled that such a creature existed and was more off-put by meeting that Madanlorian teen, Terra. Once again, he felt like he should share that tidbit of information with his Master, but as before something stayed his tongue.

 

He wondered if it was fear or something else. He hadsensed goodness in Terra, hadn’t he? If only for the briefest of moments it had existed. He was sure of it. In mean in her own backwards way she had ultimately saved his life twice. The second time she didn’t even directly harm anyone while doing it. Unconsciously, his hand fell to where the comlink device she’d given him was attached to his belt. When he did not feel it there, he had to remind himself that he was not actually present in his body. He sighed, feeling uncertain about what to do. However, Dashel was swiftly moving forward, it seemed to Kharjo he was sensing something else. It seemed to the cub as if Dashel was aware of an important event taking place unseen to Kharjo. That made the lad curious, but he listened to his Master’s counsel nonetheless.

 

“Now, Padawan, I feel it’s time we discuss Miss Dax.”

 

Kharjo frowned and the storm reflected his sudden tumultuous feelings. Dashel raised a hand and silenced the youth. It had the dual affect of calming him a bit. Dashel seemed unperturbed by the flare up in the storms violence. “I am very proud of you for forgiving her as you did Kharjo. That showed the mark of a true Jedi. You are well on the proper path. She has been healed of the dark damage your brother has done, but the mental torture she has experienced will take longer to recover from. I expect you to help her whenever you can and when required. More than that, I expect you to be nice to her and treat her as you would Kala or any other member of our group. She is no longer your enemy, but an ally and she deserves your support and defense.”

 

Kharjo swallowed, but nodded all the same. Satisfied with his Padawan’s acceptance, he broached the subject of Kharjo’s sister. He informed the Cathari cub that his sister and Miss Dax sat vigil around his inert body. He informed Kharjo that they were exchanging their pasts and that Pieta held no malice towards Dax for her misdeeds. As he talked about the two women, Kharjo’s mind wandered to the distance memories of his older sister. The love and care she showed him. How protective she was of him. He found it hard for him to focus on the words of his Master. He longed to return to his body suddenly, if only to embrace his sister and speak with her at length. Dashel must have picked up on that because he waved the notion aside. A gesture meant to comfort and inform Kharjo that it will happen soon enough. As he spoke, Dashel did so with care and turned it into a lesson of sorts. Pieta had taken a different path to becoming a Jedi Knight.

 

She had been shuffled off to the Service Corps where she bounced between Agricultural duty and Diplomacy, eventually settling in the latter. Yet, Pieta was undeterred by her assignment and took it upon herself as a challenge. She began teaching herself, first in secret and then blatantly. She wanted to become a proper Jedi Knight and so happened upon Master Erath who took her under his wing without officially naming her his Padawan. They trained together under his harsh and abrasive tutelage for several years before he sent her on a mission to an unknown and newly discovered planet. An accident befell the party she was with and marooned her and her crew and fellow Jedi. After several months of surviving in foreign and unfamiliar territory, the Jedi came to rescue her and the survivors. They found Pieta’s crash site and began their search. Master Erath was among those sent to find her and the other Jedi. It did not take them long as Pieta came stumbling out of the jungle, battered, but not beaten. She proudly walked up to Master Erath and proclaimed that she was indeed a Jedi. In a rare display of emotion, Master Erath smiled at her and exclaimed that it was about time she realized such. All of this, Dashel told Kharjo happened three years ago and when Pieta was Knighted, she decided to stay in the Service Corp.’s diplomatic sub-branch because she felt she could do some considerable good there.

 

Kharjo’s mouth fell open upon hearing his older sister’s tale and his baby sister was giddy as well. To her it sounded like one fantastic adventure story. Something she would see on the Holonet. He instinctively began looking for a way back, having so much he wanted to discuss with his big sister, but Master Dashel continued onward by stating that she would accompany them to Haruun Kal, but that he had no idea what the Force had in store for her or them. Kharjo’s excitement was too great and he barely registered what Master Dashel had said, but he felt as if he could begin his journey back. However, there was more to come. Dashel revealed his long-term plan for them and how they were to uncover something that Jaqen left behind for his descendant. That whatever the object or device was, was important to Kharjo and directly attached to him. He also enlightened the Padawan by saying that it was the very thing his brother was searching for and why he needed Kharjo to join him. Once the gala was over they were to journey to Cathar to uncover more of this mystery.

 

Kharjo became momentarily overwhelmed by all he had learned, but as he searched the faces of his Master and his baby sister he took faith in them and knew that it would all work out. It would take some time to truly grasp everything that was just spoken upon. He would need to sort out the most relevant information first and focus on that. He would need to make a list of sorts.

 

“She is quite the Jedi Knight, you know, despite having taken the longer road and having spent some time in the Service Corps.”

 

Kharjo blinked as he tried to make the connection between who his Master was referring to and what he had just digested. It took him a moment, but when he did, he smiled broadly in his usual wolfish and impish manner. Suddenly, he felt the need to see her immediately and was seized by that thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself silenced.

 

“Let me finish.”

 

As Dashel spoke further on Kharjo sisters, Dax and their mutual connection to his Sith brother, Kharjo paid more attention to the change of his baby sister who was now apprehensively looking up at Dashel. He wanted to move closer to her and embrace her again, but he did not want to disturb his Master. Eventually, Dashel reiterated the need for Kharjo to teach them his memory trick and stopped abruptly. It seemed as if the elder man had finally noticed the full extent of their circumstances and marveled at the storm that raged around them. Kharjo cocked his head to the side, surprised it had taken his Master so long to truly notice their circumstances. In fact, his Master’s awe inspired Kharjo to take a second look and he quickly realized that the storm was a side effect of his tumultuous emotions and that if he wanted to end the storm, he would have to settle the one inside his heart. As he began wondering how, he felt a sudden shift in his Master and his baby sister. He tore himself from his musings and focused on the pair as Dashel let his head fall back and looked to the sky above. Kharjo followed his gaze and was surprised to find that sky would be their way home. That he would have to move them to the sky or bring the sky to them. He was not sure how he would do that, but he knew the first step would be to reign in the storm inside him.

 

A sudden gust of wind buffeted Dashel, so fiercely that it surprised Kharjo. Some realization seemed to cross Dashel’s face and he smiled at Kharjo. Was it jealousy that Kharjo had momentarily experienced a second ago? Or was it a strong desire to protect his sister? He couldn’t rightly say, but he was sure the gust of wind had come from him. Sheepishly, Kharjo returned the smile and watched as Dashel knelt and spoke to his baby sister. The manner and topic pleased Kharjo who echoed the sentiment and moved forward to hold her. As Dashel spoke about the duties of a Jedi, Kharjo focused his being on comforting and calming his baby sister and within minutes she was smiling and perfectly comfortable standing there holding her big brother’s hand. Kharjo refocused his attention and listened to Dashel as Master Vao suddenly appeared before them, floating gently to the sand below her. She made several remarks to Dashel before smiling motherly to Kharjo.

 

Kharjo sheepishly returned the smile, suddenly embarrassed that she had to see him in such a way. At Dashel’s remark, Kharjo wondered if he had subconsciously called out to her as well. At this point it would not surprise him. However, his musing and everything else he was going to do were cut short by a howl in the air and a shrill cry. Kharjo immediately glanced up as the cry seemed familiar and saw the figure of a human fall through the sky and slam into the sea with a loud crash. Kharjo became confused and worried at once and began to sprint to the person before he remembered he held his baby sister’s hand. Instead of running, he took several quick steps closer to the water’s edge before halting as his sister was pulling at his hand. He glanced down at her and relayed his suspicions on who it might be. She simply pointed for her reply and Kharjo followed her finger.

 

What he saw made him blush a brighter shade than the cherry blossom she had tracing her body or when she realized what she was wearing. The bathing suit was so skimpy it left almost nothing to the imagination. Kharjo had never really seen a woman naked before, nor as much flesh as he was currently seeing. It excited him, but he felt awkward, uncomfortable and all sorts of inappropriate. Yet, he could not take his eyes off her. Not in the least. He watched her slack-jawed as she attempted to run toward him, all her jiggly bits bouncing as she flopped and splashed through the water. It was like a very wet dream. It took his baby sister screaming into his ear to get him to tear his gaze from the sight of his crush. She had wanted nothing more than to spare the teenage girl and let her keep what remained of her modesty as Kharjo was clearly ogling.

 

As Kharjo looked down upon his baby sister, he was surprised and impressed by her wisdom. He had thought her too young to comprehend what he was going through or what Alyssa must be experiencing, but it seemed that his baby sister clearly caught on. Perhaps, it was just simple woman’s intuition? Or, he supposed, it could be simply that his baby sister was the wunderkind of his family. Kharjo continued to look at his baby sister with a sense of bemusement as Alyssa tromped closer to him and the growing group gathered about him.

 

Alyssa composed herself rather quickly when she neared the group and overcame her initial embarrassment. She splashed through the water at full sprint, exclaiming in pain with every third step until she slammed into Kharjo and gave him a giant hug. She held him so tightly, he thought he would suffocate. And, yet he did not care. Tears bubbled in her eyes before she composed herself yet again and pulled away. Kharjo just limply stood there, unable to comprehend anything else. He was vaguely aware that he controlled the laws of this place, but then what did that say about him? Was he some sort of pervert who had been overly curious about what Alyssa looked like? Or was someone else pulling the strings? He looked upon the two Jedi Master’s uncertainly and incredulously for a moment before another guest in his sanctuary took his attention away.

 

It seemed that Maevis Luo joined the party and, like Alyssa she was dressed in a bathing suit, except hers was far more reserve and tasteful. It left almost everything to the imagination. Kharjo felt himself grow disappointed internally, but disregarded the thought as he found himself stealing glances at Alyssa who stood next to him completely confident and secure in her micro bikini. He suddenly felt the overpowering urge to put his robe over her. As he kept fixating over the thought his blouse appeared at his feet, completely restored and pristine. He stooped to pick it up and draped it over Alyssa’s shoulders. She looked at him with wonder and gratefully took the blouse. As she finished slipping it on, she punched him in the shoulder and looked away, still blushing. Kharjo did the opposite and looked away sharply as he massaged his shoulder.

 

Knight Luo had been talking to his Master, but the sudden mention of his name had thrust him back to the present and he found himself confusedly looking upon her before slowly comprehending what she’d said and nodding as his reply. Now that they were all present, they all waited for him to do something. Of course, what that was, he did not know. He felt all their eyes on him and the only thing he could think about was what Alyssa looked like beneath his blouse. Beyond them the storm became excited and chaotic. Kharjo was failing miserably at controlling his feelings. He chuckled uncomfortably. He felt ridiculous. He was a Jedi and his adolescent infatuation and curiosity was getting in the way of that. With a long and hard swallow, Kharjo settled his nerves and locked away the mental image of Alyssa’s micro bikini.

 

The very next thing he did was seat himself upon the warmth of the pearly white sand. He sat cross-legged and placed his forearms upon the ridges of his knees. He didn’t have a conscious idea of what he was doing or what he would do. As he’d never consciously gotten himself out of this place, let alone a group of people, he figured he would meditate on it and see what would happen. Situated upon the warmth of the sand and facing the sea and the wall of wind created by the hurricane, Kharjo began the slow and agonizing process of clearing his mind. Distractions were abound everywhere, he only had to look upon Alyssa to lose focus entirely. As the seconds turned into minutes and minutes to what seemed like hours, Kharjo began to grow disheartened. Try as he might, he was having a difficult time in reconciling his feelings and emptying his mind. He looked about him for guidance and found his eyes met by his baby sister.

 

She truly was one-of-a-kind. Even at her tender young age, she could sense his overwhelming sense of loss and sat down beside him. She did not mimic the fashion he had, as she did not know it yet, but she would soon enough. She looked to him and gave him a crooked smile that caused Kharjo to chuckle aloud. For reasons unknown he began to feel less stressed by what he perceived as his own limitations. Her next action was to scoot closer to him and rest upon his lap, staring up at him. He looked down and began stroking her mane, smiling broadly beside himself. This went on for a time and by the time Kharjo stopped, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He was reminded by the words of his Master and looked to him with a knowing smile. Kharjo was not alone. He did not have to do this alone. They were here to help him and would remain here for as long as it took. That was the sacrifice they were willing to wait.

 

Alyssa, during this loving exchange between brother and sister seated herself in front of Kharjo and slightly to his right. She did not want to obstruct his view of the churning sea before him, but she did want to provide him with an image of safety. The broiling and bubbling of a turbulent sea was not the most ideal of images to focus upon while centering oneself. Kharjo’s gaze fell upon her and he saw the comfort and calm reflected in her eyes. He saw deeper things there too, feelings of longing and love, once suppressed and now revealed. He smiled at her in a way that caused her to blush and sheepishly return his smile. A smirk followed his smile as he began focusing on all the times Alyssa had been there for him. He also focused on all the times Master Vao, Master Dashel and Knight Luo had been there, when they had given him their ears, their time and their hearts.

 

He began to inhale and exhale slowly, carefully and with control. He focused on the love he now felt radiating outward from everyone and found that the wall of dangerous and terrifying wind began to slowly lessen. He redoubled his efforts as he focused on that love and what it would mean in future situations. Slowly, his mind began to empty until at long last there was no conscious thought. Only his subconscious remained supreme and it was there that his truest desires lurked. He did not control them or give them restraint. They flowed freely from him like too much water over a sieve. For a moment, they were chaotic. Flowing too fast to comprehend, but as more continued to pour out from him, so did they begin to disappear. He longed for a true sense of community and family, but all he had to do was look about him to find it. He longed to be loved and allow himself to love in return. He met Alyssa’s eyes and the desire vanished into thin air.

 

Eventually, the only desire that remained was returning home. It was the strong and prevalent need to leave this sanctuary, this safe harbor. Naturally, that became the sole focus of his subconscious mind. It fixated upon that desire and began formulating ideas on how to accomplish that. He looked skyward, his expression serene and empty and wondered how he would managed to bring sky to them or earth to sky. Creative thought took hold as ideas ran rampant throughout the corridors of his mind. He envisioned mechanical vehicles, architectural structures of whimsical design. As he thought them, their afterimage began to become real in this place. Whimsical spaceships, towers and elevators shifted between realities before fizzling out. His mind emptied once again, yet this time, nothing remained. There were no ‘conscious’ thoughts, no logical revelations. There was no emotion.

 

He cast his head back and stared into the heavens. The cumulus humilis clouds that lazily past high above the eye of the storm looked inviting, encouraging. He could not describe the sensation that followed as his eyes focused upon the clouds. He felt as if he could do the impossible and so he began. He began to imagine himself stretching out and up to reach the clouds. He wanted to touch them. He wanted to join with them and play. He imagined that he was cloud himself and that his guests were situated upon him. He would carry them up to safety. At first nothing happened as he envisioned these things, yet then, slowly as he focused his entire consciousness and being on these thoughts something wondrous began to happen. The sand beneath him and them all began to rock and bubble and churn. The air began to whip and slap their surroundings. All the while Kharjo continued to imagine that he was a cloud come to bring them all home.

 

He was the first to rise mere inches from the ground. His baby sister was the next to follow, followed by Master Dashel Illioni, and the rest. Kharjo exerted his will over them and over this place. He exerted his love for them all and his desire to bring them home safely. He exerted his need to become a cloud and whisk them all away. They began to float higher. Sand formed beneath them like a gentle carpet and took the shape of the cumulus humilis clouds Kharjo fixated on. As the rose and rose, Kharjo found himself quickly becoming aware of what he was doing. He tried to repress his conscious thought out of fear of dropping them all back unto the sand far below. Try as he might the more he suppressed his euphoria and jubilance at accomplishing this feat, the harder it became to maintain and the more his focus faltered.

 

The group was several hundreds of meters above the ground when Kharjo’s concentration completely faltered as he looked about him and laughing and whooping excitedly. The sand beneath them began to rock violently as it lost mass. Kharjo quickly became aware of this and summon the vestiges of his supreme focus back to him, but he found it more than difficult. His joy at accomplishing this feat was all he could think about, all he could focus upon. Then realization hit him and terror followed. If he did not recover they would fall and some would be harmed. Kharjo could not let that happen. He would not let that happen. He looked to his baby sister who seemed unperturbed by their diminishing sand cloud. Upon her visage was the same jubilant wonder that he was experiencing. He turned his gaze and looked upon Alyssa who sat beside him still, focusing her serene will upon him. She looked at him and he got the sense that she believed him completely. Kharjo sighed and attempted to find his center once again. The sand cloud continued to lose its mass and diameter rapidly as the cloud itself began its descent back to the ground below.

 

Just when all seemed right, the sand beneath Alyssa gave way and she began to sink through the hole created beneath her. Kharjo cried out in surprise and fright as he leaned forward with lightning quick reflexes in an attempt to catch her. Her fingers slipped through his desperate grip and she began to tumble back to the ground below, yet this time there would be no water to soften her fall. An overwhelming sense and desire to protect and rescue took Kharjo over completely. He lost himself to it as he bellowed out his reply to her fall. Immediately she halted and hovered several meters beneath their sand cloud. Her surprise slid quickly to relief and she smiled lovingly up at Kharjo. His intensity and trying to rescue her shocked her internally, but she hid the feeling from her face. He seemed an entirely different man in that moment. His features hardened, he began rigid. His hand began motioning upward as he mimicked the motion of pulling her up. She began to rise and before she knew it rejoined the group upon their cloud of sand.

 

Kharjo’s determination did not let up. He remained in the state of supreme concentration as he called more sand to them. Once the cloud had been completely reformed they continued their ascent. All the while, Kharjo had a frightening stern and determined expression upon his visage that made the contours of his face look sharp and menacing. Before long the group upon their cloud of sand overcame the funnel cloud they were in and were sailing towards the cumulus humilis clouds of Kharjo’s fixation. The young girls, Alyssa and Kharjo’s baby sister were in awe at the elaborate detail of their surroundings. For miles off in almost every direction the sea extended; there seemed to be no limit to it as it blended with the horizon line. Cumulus clouds of all types lazily drifted through the atmosphere, both high and low. At their back the island sat and spanned the length of several hundred miles. As they stared they wondered if it were not an actual archipelago. They realized that it was probably not an island at all and that the hurricane only inhabited a portion of the landmass.

 

Kharjo did not notice. His entire being focused solely on the clouds high above them. As he continued to focus so supremely a hole opened in the cloud farthest up. And through that hole a door was born. In that door filled with shimmering lights of all the colors in the world shifted the image of the Grasstiger’s medbay where Pieta Shavir sat conversing with Dax. At once the group became aware that that was his true fixation. The severity of his expression did not lessen as the cloud picked up speed. The goal of Kharjo’s deepest desires was in sight and the cloud became reckless as the driver was consumed by it. It rocketed up through the atmosphere with such velocity and ferocity that the sandy ground beneath them became uneven. With every second, the occupants were threatened with being tossed off. Kharjo’s baby sister rolled unto her stomach and placed a hand on his forearm in an attempt to illicit a response from him. None was offered. Alyssa became worried that Kharjo’s desire was endangering everyone else and so, she moved forward until she stood directly over Kharjo. The sight of her filled his vision, but it made no difference.

 

The lad was looking through her to the shimmering door. She frowned and bit her lip as she saw him. She needed to do something, but could not think of what. She stooped down until her face hovered inches before his and closed her eyes. With uncertainty and shyness, she pressed her lips to his and held them there. The severity of Kharjo’s features melted away and was replaced by softer ones. He blinked, but did comprehend what had just happened. Not fully. A part of him knew; a part of him that he locked away in order to maintain this level of focus. That part of him was stunned to stupidity. Alyssa broke the kiss and pulled away, relief immediately awash across her features as she saw Kharjo’s old childish innocence return. She clutched his face and kissed him again. Her cheeks blushed madly as did his and that voice that wanted to whoop and holler and cry for joy grew louder. It rattled and banged against its cage, but Kharjo the goaler would not let him out. The sand cloud gently slowed to a more comfortable pace as Alyssa held Kharjo’s head and stared deeply into his eyes. He still half-focused on the shimmering doorway in order to maintain his focus.

 

Minutes passed and the doorway neared. When at last they were before the doorway, Kharjo gently rose and grabbed Alyssa and his baby sister’s hands. He walked forward, intent on passing through and did not pause to inspect the portal. He trusted in its intent and creation and knew that all would be well.

 

As he passed through he heard the words of his ancestor echo throughout his head, “Well done, Kharjo, well done. You do me proud, young one. Never forget that.”

 

The sensation he experienced when passing through the portal was indescribable. He felt every sensation as if his sense were afire. The rawness of it all shocked the youth as mind and soul rejoined with body. In an instant that felt like a blissful eternity he was reunited and his ears picked up the conversation going on between Pieta and Dax. He could hear his older sister’s rough and unique accent, but her words were muffled. He could hear the gentle chimes of the medical instruments he was hooked up to and could feel the intravenous needles stuck in his arms. He could feel the band wrapped around his bicep and the warm embrace of his older sister as she cradled him.

 

And then his hearing began to buzz incessantly and his ears twitched madly. It felt as if an insect were flitting between his ears, inside them. He frowned and growled in annoyance. Pieta sucked in the recycled air of the room sharply as she glanced down at her brother. His arms began to move as his body stirred. She watched as he groggily opened his eyes and shut them tightly. The lights of the medbay were bright and disorienting. He hissed and tried to raise a hand to shield his eyes and found his strength sapped. His head hurt massively and he groaned. She smiled and began babbling some words he could not comprehend. Pieta embraced him so tight he could not breath, but he did not have the strength to fight her off. He succumbed to her hold as he heard Dax sigh in relief. Minutes later he opened his eyes much slower and awaited the blurriness of his vision to leave him.

 

When it did, he saw the glowing visage of his older sister’s face hovering over him. He saw her grateful and loving smile and watched as she planted a warm kiss upon his forehead.

 

“When did my little brother become so strong?” she asked aloud to no one in particular. He smiled weakly as he melted into her arms before slumping into her lap. Pieta began running her hand through his mane and could hear and feel him purr in content. Kharjo had returned home at long last.

[Guest]

Soren sat in the Jedi provided transport as his new mentor sat across from him. His first lesson had been from a holo screen, one he didn't understand too well.

 

"Master, back at the temple there was an introductory lesson on meditation. I have to be honest, I don't know if I really understood it. I felt something, but I don't know what. I also don't understand why we're supposed to do it. You seemed to be so deep in it that you could communicate with my mind. How do I do that?"

[Roene Givrah]

The subtle hum of the shuttle beneath his feet quieted the world around. He could feel the ship as it sailed through the obsidian sea and off toward distant stars. He could feel his canine companion resting softly at his side: the small but determinable heartbeats broke ever so gently over the general din. The world inside the shuttle was quiet, still and tranquil, but the sudden rise in anxiety prodded at him with spiky protrusions. The Cerean was sighing deeply to himself when his concentration seemed troubled by the quickened steps of his padawan. Much about the future was written on the padawan's mind. Already he was too swift. Already he must learn the ways of meditation when he knows not to sit and take in. He talks when he should listen. He asks when he should think.

He must learn patience...

Master, back at the temple there was an introductory lesson on meditation. I have to be honest, I don't know if I really understood it. I felt something, but I don't know what. I also don't understand why we're supposed to do it. You seemed to be so deep in it that you could communicate with my mind. How do I do that?

 

The voice was clear as a bell to Roene's mind. He sat cross-legged on the deck of the shuttle nearer to the back and could see and hear the padawan before he approached: his shoes rubbed roughly on the ground and his thinking was loud.

 

Roene slowly stood from his position and looked long at the padawan before him. He was only a slight smaller than Roene and had he been a little older, would have been considered way too old for Jedi training. Minds of that age tend to already be formed. They tend to let less in than that of younger minds. They are less pliable and are harder to teach the older a person gets. The Cerean smiled, seeing the reflection of youth in his own history, but it was a weary smile. Roene hadn't had much time with his other padawans and those that he had trained were always so quick. He wondered if there was some way to slow time. He wondered if there was a way to teach someone slowly even if they wanted to train quickly.

 

"Meditation may seem simple padawan, but one must learn other things before meditation becomes to them like the shifting of body weight." Roene said, wiping the sweat gathered on his brow upon the tips of his fingers and softly flicking it toward the deck plating. "You are under the guidance of one who moves by the will of nature: and nature is never swift unless it means to be and even then the pace can shift at a moment's notice. One must have patience before they can see into what the Jedi call 'the force' and meditate in such a way that is beneficial to them. For instance," Roene's eyes sought out another part of the simple ship where a simple metal table sat. There were two metal chairs set up beside it. Quietly Roene escorted Soren out of the room and instructed him to sit at one of these chairs. Then he set a small object in the center of the table. It was a polished rock that he found on Tython and kept with him as a keepsake and it was approximately one square inch in size; it was black in color; and it had a couple of small dimples in it that it rested on as it sat upon the table's cold metal surface.

 

"I want you to stare at this rock. I don't want you to move it. I don't want you to take your eyes off of this rock. No matter what you do, no matter what happens I want you to focus on this rock. I want you to sit and think of nothing but the rock until it is all you think about. Then I will tell you when the exercise is over. I will be close at hand and should you flinch, we will start over." Roene said, a plain look of instruction writ upon his face. Tyue's head poked up for a moment as his master moved about, but he quickly went back to sleep when Roene sat at the other chair beside the table and stared at the rock.

[Dahar Raikanda]

Dahar sat, legs folded in a typical Jedi meditation chair. He was in such a deep commune with the Force that his consciousness of self was nearly gone. It was unclear whether he was sleeping, in a deep trance, or had passed over to the nether-realm in total oneness with the Force.

 

In his vision he saw a man. Tall, dark hair and dark eyes. The man wore all black, a tunic and a robe. The man was Dahar, but in this state he had lost complete concept of self. He stood alone amongst the darkness, somehow completely at ease in the vacuum of space. The mysterious figure reached out his hand to pull microscopic particles in towards each other in front him. One by one the figure grabbed the particles, some of the sub-atomic variety, and forged them together. Within minutes the once naked to the eye pieces were gathering exponentially. After a few more minutes passed the vacuum in which he stood was now occupied by himself and also a large mass in front of him. The figure closed his eyes and reached upwards with both hands. The mass started swirling, first slowly and then much quicker. Eventually the movement was one continuous blur, and suddenly, burst into flames. The fire consumed the mass from the core outwards. This continued until the entire object was engulfed. Soon the heat turned the object to one swirling pool of plasma. The man opened his eyes and beheld a bright sun before him. The object was trillions of times larger than the man, but from his perspective he stood as an equal to it, as the creator. He watched contently as the object burned brighter and brighter.

 

Eternity seemed to pass as the man gazed upon his creation. It pleased him to know that he had built it. But then the realization struck. The man hadn't built anything, merely he had manipulated what was already there to form something new. But nothing was new, the same particles that once existed as invisible dust in the vacuum were still part of this new whole. The man became saddened, and then angry. Was he truly powerless? What he had shaped appeared to be entirely awesome, but in reality, it was not of his doing. In the time of an infinite universe if he had not created this mass it would have eventually created itself. The rage built to a boiling point inside the man as he became for disgusted at his inability to truly change or accomplish anything. He again closed his eyes, lifted his hands, and brought forth a fury of darkness on the sun. The object shook, growing brighter unto the point where it swallowed the man whole. Then, just as it had come from nothing, it returned to nothing, completely collapsing upon itself. Again, vacuum.

 

Dahar opened his eyes. He returned the real galaxy, or the one that seemed most real to him at the current time. He pondered the meaning of his vision, knowing that all comes from the Force, dreams and visions not excluded. Was there something he was meant to learn? Creation, destruction, an endless circle? Or was it the true futility of existence? Perhaps the small seed of doubt that Faust had planted in the depths of his mind was taking root.

 

The ship, consisting of only the pilot, Kyrie, and himself continued through hyperspace.

[Guest]

Roene had places a black rock in front of him on the table. His instructions were to focus only on the rock. It was an exercise to help him free his mind. With so much commotion going on it would be impossible to hear the subtle whispers of the Force.

 

Soren stared at the rock. He didn't quite get the point. It was just a rock, like any other, how would examining it help him in any way? Regardless of his opinions he attempted to do what he was told. He gazed on the object but Soren wasn't able to clear his head. Random thoughts cascaded through his mind. First he thought of a slice of pizza. Then a pretty woman he had once seen at a market. He attempted to shake this off, focusing on the dark color of the rock. He began to notice the jagged edges, following them from one spot to the other. The shine of the polished obsidian became brighter the more he stared at it. Soren didn't know the rock was from Tython, or even that Tython existed. He had no way of knowing the overwhelming presence of Ashla on the planet which the rock carried with it. Nevertheless the presence of the Light Side was in the rock. Soren's minute connection with the Force was drawn to this stone because of that reason. It radiated in front of him, becoming brighter and brighter as the room grew dim.

 

SMASH! In his head he heard the distinct sound of his mother once dropping and breaking a glass plate. His concentration was broken. When he gazed on the rock it appeared again normal.

 

"I don't get it. For a minute there it almost seemed like that rock was glowing. But I couldn't hold the focus on it without being distracted by thoughts and memories."

[Roene Givrah]

"I don't get it. For a minute there it almost seemed like that rock was glowing..."

 

Roene smiled a little, but his eyes never left the rock. “Then, for a minute, you felt as all Jedi do; for a minute, you felt as if that rock were more than just a rock; for a minute you saw the inner structure of what to our eyes seems so mundane and inert; for a minute, you saw the force. “

With a small gesture, Roene slide his hand out to where the black rock stood and left it to rest besite the piece of shining obsidian.

 

“But I couldn't hold the focus on it without being distracted by thoughts and memories.”

 

Roene sighed a little, but the grin never left his face and his eyes never left the rock’s surface. “And that padawan, is why you can't meditate; yet. Meditation requires patience, and patience requires focus. Once you master those skills you may begin to see why meditation helps Jedi Masters or Jedi Knights to center and reach a level of cultured understanding in the world around.”

 

With a small breath in, Roene moved his outstretched hand across the metal table closer to his torso. Then, without even a glimmer of recognition, the obsidian began to float in midair. Roene then turned his eyes to face his padawan’s and the rock continued to float.

 

“Your first lesson and one I wish you to take to heart is that everything is the force. I don’t claim to be the final authority on these things and by no means will each Jedi have the same answer for this question, but to me, everything is the force. Down to the tiniest molecule, atom or quark of matter, the force is something that makes up everything in the universe. It is in us all, it is all around.”

 

Roene reached one of his hands out to his padawan and took him into his thoughts. He granted the padawan the smallest perception of the world around him by letting the energy inside, float with the rock and into the padawan’s mind. At that moment he shared a crystalline vision of the world with Soren. The ship faded away from sight to be replaced by a glittering silver blue construct surrounded by millions of smaller, but equally as bright sapphires that glinted in their homes thousands of light-years away. Roene’s voice took on an airy quality and seemed to echo in this chamber of magical bright lights.

 

“The unique relationship that Jedi have with the force is that of a guiding hand. We are the channel as it runs through the mountains to rejoin the larger body of water. We use the force in ourselves and the world around to shape things, heal things and renew things. The more understanding we have and the more aptitude we have in guiding the force, the more powerful we become in its manifestation. Some claim that the amount of midichlorians a Jedi has is what makes him or her more powerful. However, in my understanding, that is only partially correct. To use the channel metaphor again, the midichlorians in our body give us the ability of forming a larger tributary by which the force can flow through. The amount of force we can guide or channel is directly affected by the amount of midichlorians, or symbiotic cells, present in our own cells. It doesn’t make you more powerful. Just because you have more of something, it doesn’t make it significant. Power isn’t something to take lightly, and it isn’t really in the realm of consideration for Jedi.”

 

Roene’s voice didn’t so much waver as it decreased in pitch. The light seemed to darken and for some reason the sapphires that gleamed in the blackness around the ship, were duller than before.

 

“The Sith however – the yang to our yin – do something similar, but altogether different. They push bluntly forward in the pursuit of power and freedom. They feed on the force's energy and neglect to give anything back. They do not wish to ponder or muse on the idle nature of anything and wish to pull forward, breaking as many things in their way as they can. They tear the force asunder, forcing it to their will; they harness chaotic emotions to enhance the potency of their force powers and wreak havoc on the natural order of things, which is why they look the way they do. Ironically, although their code dictates otherwise, they become slaves to the emotions that they wish to use to free them. They strain themselves and work outside the force, bending it and twisting it.”

All the while Roene is explaining the metaphor he is showing his padawan a physical representation of this action with his hands. The river of his allegory spread like blue fire from his finger tips and followed every part of the story, down to the Sith’s brutality. Then, in the flicker of an instant, the vision was gone and they were both back on the deck of the shuttle.

 

“All of this is my philosophy of course. Some Jedi may look upon it with scorn, but I do not wish to impose my will upon them. It is not my way. However, as you are my student, it is your luxury to have my instruction put upon you whether you want it or not. What you choose to believe afterwards is up to you." Roene said with slow, but appropriate wink.

 

“I know this was fairly long winded, but oft speculation is warranted where risk and hazard are brought to bear. If you are to take anything from this, let it be these three things: take time to look and feel the world around you more; think about the world as more than what it is; and live life in the moment, acknowledging who and what you are and letting your thoughts and worries leave you.”

Roene looked out the viewport from his seat and could see the planet of Dagobah looming over the main cockpit chair. “Oh, it seems that we’ve arrived. I’ll just be a moment making sure the landing takes alright.” Roene said over his shoulder as he got up and walked to the steering mechanisms.

Edited August 21, 2012 by Guest

[Kyrie Eleison]

...Awake your soul, orphan of pain and sorrow. Let your desire for justice drive you to the very end of the stars, and to where the darkness swallows all light. Stray too far into the dark, and it will eventually tear your very soul from your body, and you will be left as a husk, your mind consumed by the advancing ages...

 

Emerald eyes glittered brightly within the dim confines of the shuttle, like polished gemstones, hidden far within the reaches of darkened caves. Absentmindedly, her hands each slowly flipped a long-bladed stiletto between her fingertips, as she watched her master, whose mind was deep within the reaches of The Force. A small smile flashed across her pale, freckled face, and she stepped across the bulkhead, and took a seat beside him, sheathing her blades. Picking up her comlink, she entered in a small series of numbers, and put through a signal to an old rival from the duelling arenas, whom she knew to be on Kamino. She would have him pick up the mercenary and vet her for the coming battles.

 

...Dream to feel the world...

 

::Crimson light filtered through a mask. Tattered robes stained with the rust of a dying world::

 

Kyrie turned to her master, as she felt the slight change in The Force which heralded his return from a vision. Brushing a dark braid from her eyes, Kyrie spoke.

 

“The woman is a mercenary, whom I have never yet met. I have sent one of my old...”

 

Her voice caught a bit, in hesitation. When she continued, her voice was heavy with memory

 

“Friends... To go and see if she is capable of the task before us. I will withhold judgement of my own until he finishes his missions with her. As for our task at hand... We go to Haruun Kal?”

[Dahar Raikanda]

An encrypted comm reached Dahar deep in space on the Jedi Council private channel. He read it over for a brief moment and then typed a few commands in reply. He switched his gaze to his apprentice who sat with him. She had suggested they head to Haruun Kal. A party of sorts was to take place and it would be appropriate for them attend. The Governor had even asked Dahar, as a representative of the Jedi Council, to make a speech. He was unsure at the moment whether Master Trevelian would also be in attendance, therefore he would base his words on the situation at hand. As a Jedi it always best to live in the moment.

 

"In due time my friend. We may have something to take care of first, I will know soon enough." Dahar stared deep into her eyes. He was attempting to peer into her connection with the Force. Master Kirlocca had always stressed that every cell, every atom, could be read and tell a tale. Even an object once momentarily touched by a person could share their life story under the right circumstances. She was strong in the Force, able. He reflected inward on what was left for him to teach her. The Jedi Master knew an event soon enough would prove adequate trials, but he wanted to make sure she was ready.

 

"When a young Jedi reaches knighthood it does not mean the training is over. On the contrary, it is only a small step into a much bigger world. Really, "knight" is just a word, a title. The meaning behind it is that we, the council, feel one is ready to journey out on their own and explore the Force for themselves. Up to this point you have been under the guidance of a mentor. Although there will still be many you can learn from, once a Jedi Knight you will be expected to do much more study on your own." He knew Kyrie was aware of this, as she was already well knowledge in the arts of the Exorcist, something Dahar knew of but had spent little time training in.

 

"One task that will be expected of you is to take on an apprentice of your own. To truly master something one must be able to teach it to another." Dahar thought back on Adenna and the time they had spent together. Being himself a strong warrior he assumed it only the will of the Force that he had yet to train another as a Guardian. Perhaps it was to keep him aware of the differences in the Order. He had heard of Adenna's exploits, and although she had encountered great pain she had accomplished amazing things. It had always been a wish of hers to free the slaves of her home planet, and she did.

 

"We are going to try an exercise. The first lesson a Jedi gives an apprentice can be the most important. That first introduction to the Force can change a person forever. So many come to us with no knowledge of the Force at all and with so many questions about why their life is the way it is. How do you think you would handle that situation?" Dahar knew Kyrie was adept in Force illusions. As a Jedi Master this was a skill he himself possessed a knowledge of. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into a deep trance. He beckoned the Force into his being allowing it to flow through him. A fleeting memory of his own Master grazed the back of his mind. He saw himself, a young man barely 18, meditating on the very planet they would soon visit, Haruun Kal. He focused on this image.

 

Suddenly the room around them began to vanish. The metal walls were soon replaced by a sprawling forest. A small creek gently flowed in the background. Dahar sat under a tree, legs folded in traditional meditation style. He appeared young, even boyish, with a traditional padawan braid and clothes. If Kyrie were to look down at herself she would have noticed her skin had aged quite a bit. If she were to wander over to the water and look at her reflection she would see a woman in her late 30s, perhaps early 40s, still beautiful but aged by years of serving the Order. She would noticed the robes of a Jedi Master hanging off her long arms and legs.

 

The young man looked up to notice his master standing before him. "I have found this place as you instructed me Master Eleison, I am ready for my first lesson."

[Keenava Dira]

Lallu noticed the tonal difference in her companion's voice at the name mention and took the correction to mean that she pricked a nerve. It wasn't intentional, but something told her that that may come in handy later should the need arise. Names were valuable after all and to know someone's name lent a certain degree of control. Not much, but it was something of a footnote in Lallu's history so she had an idea what significance her own name held over her.

 

Memories were something of a weak point for Lallu too, or at least they used to be. The Twi'lek felt a bit airy now after her traumatic revelation and the sensation was a little disturbing. It was as if she was free falling and could not grasp a hold of anything. The enjoyment of emotional liberation was a little more than she could comfortably hold on to and she knew that the chaotic peace would lead to some fumbling if she didn't master herself quickly. If she was lucky, Vaegir would want to do most of the talking once they got on the planet. He seemed to be a little better at it anyway, even if he was stuck on a swamp planet for who knows how long.

 

She could feel her heart starting to flip when they finally passed the threshold into the shuttle bay although there wasn't really an appropriate stimulus for such a reaction. Her head began to swim when she saw that the Acolytes dropped off the things they needed. Without much trouble and without fainting she managed a soft sweep before walking into the shuttle proper. She worked her way through the ship and did a quick glance over everything, to make sure there wasn't anything wrong with the shuttle and to clear her nerves a little bit. Then when she was sure her head was on straight, Lallu began setting up the shuttle for launch. The cockpit format was a bit foreign, so she had to stall for a few minutes to understand it, but she grasped it eventually. Vaegir was settled into the shuttle when she finally managed to conclude the preparations and once she set the proper codes for their destination, she braced herself for the flight through the black holes and then the inevitable light speed jump.

 

Just as they were about to leave, Lallu remembered Vaegir's question and shook her head as if to clear the last dredge of thought from it. "Oh, Sorry Vaegir, almost forgot. The flight to Haruun Kal doesn't seem to be too long, but with these light speed jumps I don't really know how long it is to get anywhere."

 

((sorry for the brevity of the post, but I wanted to get us going. ))

[Vossus Malek]

The kaleiodoscopic tunnel of hyperspace truly was a thing of beauty. Whether it was, as some believed, a view into a parallell universe, a window to an extra dimension of space or, as was the most common assumption, just the galaxy as seen when travelling faster than the speed of light, it was a breathtaking display for just about anyone who had never exprienced it before.

 

Vossus Malek, however, had seen it before. In fact, he had seen enough of it recently that its luminous, twisting visage now made him nothing but annoyed. It felt like he'd been everywhere, visited each and every pitiful system from one corner of the galaxy to the other, yet the results of his search had so far been non-existent so clearly that wasn't the case. He knew them to be somehwere out there, but yet he couldn't find them. The closest he'd come was back on Vjun; there he'd picked up on something as soon as he'd entered system. It had been like nothing he'd ever felt before, a sort of tingling deep inside his mind, just inside the limits of his mental perception, something calling to him. He had interpreted this as a manifestation, a sign even, from the Force. He knew he was connected to it, and the sensation had felt just like the ones he'd seen described in the many texts he'd read during his university days.

 

But Vjun had had nothing in store for him, and he reckoned the presence he'd felt was nothing more than the dark past of the planet making itself heard and remembered through the Force. Frustrated but not perturbed, he had continued his search elsewhere.

 

And here he was now. Thoroughly perturbed and even more frustrated.

 

Letting out a low irritated snarl, Vossus ripped his violet gaze off the hyperspace tunnel spiraling away outside the transparisteel viewport of his cockpit and leaned back in his padded pilot's chair, closing his eyes. Surely, the next stop would bring the peculiar sensation back and lead him to what he was looking for. Surely, the next stop would bring him Sith.

[Qaela]

Raynuk gave her plenty of time to think about things while he cleaned his armor. Qaela was more than glad to give it to him because she had multiple things to sort out. They had made the jump to hyperspace on the way to Coruscant from Korriban a while ago and there was not much else to do but to think.

 

She pondered what he had said to her in the desert more fully, trying to understand how to apply it to her life. She was a wreck and she knew it. The rage still simmering just below the surface was dangerous and could erupt at any moment. Her emotions were still too raw and overpowering to control them with any degree of certainty. If she was out in public and someone even looked at her wrong, she might just laugh at them flirtatiously or flay the skin off of their face. She wasn't entirely sure how she would react and that was not acceptable. A warrior needed to be able to control her body at all times.

 

At last, when she was feeling hungry, she emerged from the small bunkroom and went to the even smaller food preparation area. There was nothing good to eat, not on a ship like this. All of it was simply premade meals that lasted forever and could be made ready with a little water and heat. She prepared one of the less offensive packages and went into the cockpit where Raynuk and their nameless pilot were. With a look, she dismissed the pilot so she and the Sith master could talk in private.

 

"You are a Sith," she stated. "As such, you obviously know how to use your emotions." Again, not a question. "The thing I want to know is: how do you control them when you don't need them? As you rightly pointed out, I am not exactly in a good shape of mind. I can barely control my emotions, and sometimes I can't even do that. How do you Sith control them, or do you?"

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus had heard the nightsister enter, and watched casually as she dismissed the pilot. He still had a rather casual posture, with his feet propped up on a bulkhead, and had expected her to have more questions for him when the time was right. It seemed the time was right now, and so her statements and questions were not a surprise when they came flowing from her mouth. Quietus listened, and considered the question carefully before dropping his feet to the floor and sitting up, intending to give the question it's due.

 

"That question, and the answer to it, are core to what it means to be Sith. There have been many Sith who were like you; purely creatures of rage and emotion, just as likely to carve up an innocent man for asking directions as they are to kill a Jedi that got in their way. There are just as many though, that have learned to harness and control those emotions, to save their rage for when the time was right. Each Sith is different. Myself and Furion are masters of our emotions, while one such as Lucifer is a slave to his, as you are. That is the key to it all; whether you serve your emotions, or they serve you. Control over ones emotions is tied to control over the Force. Emotion is they key to unlocking the power of the Force, a fact that I am sure is not lost on you.

 

For me, it is all about harnessing the emotion into a form that serves me. Being able to know and understand what will set you off is also important. Your children were taken from you; does that cause you to become enraged by the sight of another mother and her children? Or can you distance yourself from that woman who has done nothing to cross you. The context of your anger and emotions is just as important as the source. So is what you do with that anger once it has been triggered. As an example does this..."

 

Without any further warning, Quietus rather quickly and forcibly reached out and slapped Qaela across the face, sending her processed food flying, and dislodging her from the seat she had taken. He watched her now, gauging not just her oral response, but her physical and emotional reactions as well.

"...cause you anger? Cause you to lose control? Do you suddenly have the desire, nay the NEED to tear me limb from limb?! You can learn a lot about yourself when you push yourself to a limit; you can learn more when you are pushed to a limit by someone else."

 

While he was sure that he had pushed Qaela to anger and rage, he was not concerned, for he was powerful enough to deflect anything she threw at him. This would be a lesson in control for the nightsister, one way or another.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

The stolen ship served it's purpose well. As Lucifer made the jump to hyperspace from Korriban to Coruscant he pondered his next move. He had plenty of time to think, he was curious as to why Furion wanted him to do the work any thief could do. He began a internal conversation with his other side. The tension was palpable as the two had a clear rage towards each other. Although there were few moments like this when they debated. The entity rarely surfaced as of late, but tonight was different.

 

What does he want with credits it's not like the Sith are in a financial crisis. That man has a agenda but what.

 

His using you.

 

I know. But to what end.

 

His own. As with all sith he seeks to serve only his own interests, he will use you and anyone he views as inferior to do his work. Just as you would do the same. But he underestimates you and what you are capable of. Show him you are not weak. Use this opportunity to earn back the reputation that Tobias Vos stole from us. Only then can we have our revenge upon those who wronged us.

 

Then I will not fail. And I shall be finally rid of you.

 

The entity simply laughed at the last comment.

 

We shall see. Apprentice.

 

Letting the autopilot do the work the kiffar thought upon his next move. So the Dark Lord wanted him to rob a casino. The question was which, there were so many to choose from with rich pickings. If one was smart. Moving over to the terminal firmly planted upon the wall to his left Lucifer began his search for a suitable target. One which would make his name in this god forsaken galaxy. It was time the galaxy heard of Lucifer once more. And to show them they cannot escape fate. Looking through the holonet Lucifer found endless dribble...advertisement at it's best. But beneath this he knew what made these capitalist companies tick, corruption and power. The galaxy was thick with it. With the corruption. It was why the Sith had survived for millenia and thrived even today. Like a dirty secret the galaxy has tried to forget.

 

After two hours of searching the kiffar finally found a viable target. A rather large casino run by a local crime syndicate on Coruscant. The odds were certainly in his favor. After some digging he found quite a bit about them via his various back channels and the Sith's extensive resources. They were a syndicate not under the flag of Black Sun. Thus he would be doing them a favor by ridding them of a rival. Or rather interfering with their rivals 'business' interests. It almost made Lucifer wonder.

 

Did Furion do this to pay off Black Sun and make the alliance regardless of whether Qaela achieved her objective or not. His contingency plan. It certainly seemed like the sort of thing he may have thought up.

 

Perfect.

 

Lucifer could feel it in his gut. Furion had did this for that reason. But then again he had been wrong before. However he knew one thing. If ever it was a time to shine now was it, he could not fail...he would not allow himself to. There was to much at risk.

 

Just like his so called 'brother' albeit not in he traditional sense the feeling was that his birthright was nigh, in this way the two held a similar view. Tobias and he. Lucifer thought of how it had come to this, he had not wanted it but yet circumstance had forced it upon him, such was life and the force which had seen fit to test his mettle. But yet this did not worry him, in fact reveled in that fact. He was afterall a warrior at heart. The thrill of battle enthralled him greatly. Be that battle internal or external. Calculating the risks involved in such a bold operation, Lucifer thought of a few people who might be able to help him. People who owed him favors. People who like him were left outcast and abandoned after the wars and who were looking for another chance. Desperation often yielded the best results from people. When on the edge they had nothing left to lose, which had not already been lost.

 

He needed the best men. And he would get them. But first...a little research was in order. Although it never hurt to unwind a little and enjoy the moment in the process. All that mattered now was that Coruscant security was lax and he made it to the surface undetected. But if he was lucky they would notice the ship was not registered to the Sith but to a man by the name of Virgil Bass'enr of Corellia who last they knew was on Korriban. However it was likely he would make it, afterall many men can dissapear on such a planet as Coruscant. It was a maze, a warren of cityscape that stretched for miles up and down. Yet this is where Lucifer felt most alive.

 

As the ship made the jump the kiffar headed to the refresher. It would be a long journey.

[Qaela]

Qaela's paranoia senses were able to detect the blow before it hit her, just not with enough time to react. After all that she had suffered, she barely felt the pain, but there definitely was an element of shock to Raynuk's attack. Even as she was falling out of her chair, her instincts and training kicked in. She turned the tumble into a roll and came up into a crouch in the bulkhead with her wooden knife in hand and a long string of curses to match it. The rage exploded out of her and she wanted nothing more than to strike back at the man.

 

A spell was already forming on her lips when her mind slowly caught up to her. She noted that Raynuk wasn't following up on the attack, but was sitting confidently in his chair as if nothing happened. He was saying something, but she didn't hear it through the pounding of her heart in her ears. She wanted to crush him, to burn him, to flay his skin off, and to paint herself in his blood. The rage in her body was extreme and demanded action.

 

But she would not take it.

 

She refused to act on the rage. She ordered the rage back down, deep within her being. It was a battle, but it was one she refused to lose. She let the images of her three little babies come to the forefront of her mind and let that almost foreign longing to protect, care, and cherish them to combat the rage. If she couldn't control her rage now, with them far away, she wouldn't be able to control it when they were near. If they were ever near.

 

The battle took its toll on her. When she was able to see straight and hear clearly, she found wetness on the sides of her head and down the front of her chin. Her ears and nose had began bleeding again. She figured it might be the blood pressure spike or simply the rage turning on her when it couldn't be released. Either way, she remained standing with her knife in a death grip. She said nothing and didn't bother to wipe at the blood and smear it.

 

As she sat back down in her chair, she tried to begin a basic healing spell silently in her head. At first, she thought it was working, but then the entire thing unraveled and fizzled out to nothing. A look of confusion bunched up her eyebrows as she processed the fact that her spell failed for the first time since she learned it to her mother's satisfaction. She supposed it was only logical. After all, Sith couldn't heal themselves like the Jedi could and right now, she was channeling so much darkness that it probably prevented her the objectivity needed to use such spells. She would have to try it out later when she was in private, but the thought scared her slightly. She had always been able to heal, even if it was tedious, time consuming, and exhausting. It had been what allowed her to survive the various attacks. It was what gave her her first connection to Ca'Ara--to Delta 73. It was the snare she used to kill Tobias Vos. It was a part of her and she would get it back.

 

When she was at last able to speak, she said coldly, "Do not do that again or one of us will die."

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus met her eyes with the same cold disposition, having learned much in the short few moments since he had slapped her. It was enlightening to see what her reactions were, and it would allow him to better help Qaela control and twist her rage to her liking, rather than have her rage consume here. He was quite sure that moving forward in this manner, she was going to seriously hate him at times if he continued to attempt to help her keep control of her emotions. But he had the knowledge and guidance that she needed to progress as a Force user, a fact that would serve both of them well in the future if they were to remain allies.

"That is quite the point Qaela. I did that to see how you reacted; emotionally, physically, and mentally. It was quite a facinating show, both in terms of your reactions, as well as your sudden change. You lost control to your rage in the early moments, but then you managed to wrestle it back, with some difficulty it seems..."

 

He motioned to her face, obviously referring to the blood that was seeping down it. It was almost comical in that moment, for the nightsister, despite her cold demeanor, seemed absolutely frayed and frazzled by the experience. It had taken much of her sanity, however little there might be, to regain control, and it showed.

 

"...but you did wrestle control back, which shows me many things. You have the ability to control your rage and your anger, you just need to learn to maintain that control at all times, and to regain it faster should you lose it. But for the moment, you have all this rage, all this anger that is pent up... You must find a way to release what is pent up, or else you are more likely to lose control again. Lash out in a manner that is safe... "

 

There was a rather wicked grin that crossed his face in that moment as he continued to sit there.

 

"You will find that acolytes make very satisfying 'stress balls'. But lets move on to your ability to regain control. I get the feeling that you will need that ability more, especially if you are to learn to suppress your rage at inopportune times. You did manage to regain control, so I must ask... How did you do so? What did you consciously do to regain control?"

[Qaela]

Qaela frowned at Raynuk as he began talking. She looked around and found some old rag to begin cleaning the blood off of her face as she listened to him. She figured that he was simply testing her, though that wasn't her first thought. Perhaps had he not already lashed out at her randomly in the past, she wouldn't have reacted with such rage, but he had. It had been the first time someone whom she had considered an ally had tried to kill her and she found that she still dwelt upon that fact even now two years later. She knew it wasn't necessarily a desirable thing, but it was what it was.

 

She couldn't help but to smirk when mentioned finding a way to release. She always had a way to do that, and, if her memory was right, it was that very method that irked several of the other Scorpions back on that trip. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since she had been able to experience that particular form of release. The last time she was with someone was when Ar-Pharazon had taken advantage of her. That was the first time she tried to kill herself, but she was mostly over that. There was a lot of tension with Delta not wanting to cross that line and with her being pregnant. She had restrained herself out of devotion to him, but that was well and burned to flames. Her eyes briefly appraised the Sith in front of her, though with them being entirely black, there wasn't a visible way to tell where she was looking. She doubted he would be much interested, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless, one that helped bring her somewhat out of her sour mood.

 

She caught the last bit of what he was asking and debated. Telling him what allowed her to control her rage would mean entrusting him with a rather large secret. If he knew, he could easily use that knowledge against her in a most cruel way. Sith were not known for denying themselves any advantage over adversaries, no matter how they got it.

 

On the other hand, he was, at least on the surface, trying to help her. Sith masters were not always so generous with wisdom, so she needed to take advantage of his willingness to help while she could. Trust was definitely not something that came easy to her, especially not around those who had tried to kill her. In the end, though, she had to make a decision: to trust or not to trust?

 

She continued to ponder that question while she finished cleaning her face. There was still a few smears of blood that dried too quickly to wipe off. She needed to get a wet rag to get all of it, but at least the majority of it was gone. She tossed aside the red soaked rag and briefly considered trying to salvage her food, but it was too scattered over the bulkhead floors to be worth anything.

 

At last, she made her decision. "There is only one thing that I care about right now: my children. It might be a weakness, but I cannot help it. I want them, and not just because I want an heir or fresh blood to boost the Force sensitivity among my people. I had originally thought they would be nothing more than tools, a means to gain power among my Clan. Ar-Pharazon was an useful tool in acquiring the stronger bloodline that would give my Clan access to a pure, undiluted connection to the Force to repair the damage done by hundreds and hundreds of years of inbreeding. It was only an added benefit that I was able to use the shared bond between myself and those stronger children to increase my own Force potential. Ar-Pharazon conducted his own vile ritual that used his enhanced connection to the Force and the slightly weaker bonds of our unborn children to boost my weakened potential to that of what most Force users elsewhere in the Galaxy have. Because of that, I have more potential and raw strength in the Force of any in my Clan ever, but among the stars, I am nothing special.

 

"Despite all of that, all of my coldly calculating purposes and reasons for conceiving, when the time came and I gave birth to them, I couldn't help but loving them. It is a weakness, I know, and I have paid dearly for it. I want them back to hold them in my arms and keep them safe and watch them grow and teach them how to protect themselves and all the things that a mother should do with her daughters. Well, and my sons, too. Having spent so much time here among the rest of the Galaxy, I no longer hold the same opinions of males as most of my kind do.

 

"You asked what stopped me. It was the thought that if I cannot control myself now, I wouldn't be able to control myself if I ever get my children back. I have done horrible things, both out of necessity and out of my own desires. I can live with that fact. But if I harmed my children, I would never forgive myself. That is why I was able to regain control."

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus listened and watched, waiting for her to answer. There was a small part of him that had expected her to lash out at him, even now, as if trying to gain an upper hand; to gain an element of surprise. When she finally did speak, he sat forward slightly and physically waved some of her notions and beliefs off as if they were flies in the room. There was a particular lesson, a pearl of wisdom that he could impart upon the nightsister, one that he had found out the hard way several times, and even once in her presence. He had noticed her initial silence when he had asked her what she did to reverse her anger. He was smart enough, and keen enough in the Force to get the feeling that it was a matter of personal knowledge that had stayed her hand, and she was not willing to part with such a thing easily. Perhaps it was time to show her some good faith and share something that he held so close to his chest as she did her secrets.

 

"Nonsense... We are not Jedi Qaela; we do not see emotion and love as weakness. The Jedi forbid love, choosing to avoid it at all costs, for they know how powerful such an emotion can be... But they do not understand it the way that the Sith do. Do not ever think that your possession of love for those close to you is a weakness; as is the case with many of the points I have made thus far, it is only a weakness if you allow it to be. For all intents and purposes, your children are your reason for living Qaela. if they are what allowed you to regain control, then you must make sure that they never stray far from your mind, for they will help you maintain your control in spirit. if you should lose control however, you must find a better way to unleash that energy. Crush a large object, cause a random person to self combust, throw a small animal off a cliff. But above all else, you must learn to be able to direct your wrath when your emotions do overtake you. In essence, to be in control when your emotions and anger are anything but under control. The only way to learn how to do that however, is for you to be in that state of mind."

 

Quietus sat back for a moment, and regarded her for a moment. He could tell that her words were true; that her children, and her love for them were the reasons she continued in the world and came back from the brink of darkness as she had. There were hard lessons ahead of her, ones that Quietus had already learned.

 

"You may think me a cold, heartless bastard of a Sith Qaela... And you would not be far from the truth. I have however, felt the kind of love that you hold now, and I have allowed it to become a weakness. Once, long ago when I was actually a young man, a freshly minted Sith Lord, was I shackled by love. I fought tooth and nail for this woman; a raw talent of the Force that could have been either a Sith or a Jedi. I loved her, and she loved me to a point, but in the end that love was used against me, for a Jedi had struck a secret relationship with her as well, and in the end she chose to continue her life with him. It was a decision that destroyed me in those days, to the point that I threw myself at the entirety of the Jedi Order, raging in anger, grief, and loss against all who stood in front of me. It was that same Jedi who eventually stopped me, purely by bringing up the decision the woman had made; the words stopped me dead in my tracks, and it took little more to cut me down."

 

There was a pause at this point, a brief testament to the fact that such pain and loss was still enough to cause Quietus pause. It was one of the reasons he often chose not to dwell on those events, let alone bring them to the surface and share. Lost in his memories for but a moment, his eyes suddenly focused again, and he continued.

 

"There was also a time, much more recently in which my feelings for another shackled me again. And this one, I am sure you will be much more familiar with, for you were there for it."

 

He allowed Qaela a moment to attempt to put the pieces together before continueing once more, his eyes now glinting ever so slightly. This wound was still fresh in his mind and in his heart.

 

"The moment in which Delta and Ar-Pharazon decided that my apprentice must die, was one of the hardest moments for me to endure. Simply put, I had grown to care for her much more deeply than a Master normally feels for their apprentice. She truly was the best of me, holding so much promise, so much enthusiasm, and so much trust in me. But it was in that moment, when I had to watch her die infront of me, when I was powerless to stop it because my duty demanded it, that I felt just how much the emotion of love can be turned against a person. I had a duty to fufill, but losing Emily to those I considered my brothers in arms broke me in ways I could not forsee."

 

He had begun to space out a bit, his focus and gaze drifting ever so slightly before snapping back, his eyes turning to her with fire behind them.

 

"It was because of Emily's death that once my campaign was finished that I lapsed into silence. It was because of that singular moment that I failed to do the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith justice. I was broken... I was already dead inside. It took only another Sith who met no resistance to finish the job. But now that I have returned, I will not allow such a mistake to happen again. It is she that I seek to find clues to on Coruscant. It is she that is my primary goal at this point. Furion and the Sith can wait... until at least I see her with my own eyes."

 

The fire that was radiating behind his eyes and in his soul faded then, Quietus forcibly pushing them back below the surface. He had shared far more than he had intended to, but knew it would only serve to show Qalea just how serious of a situation she might run into.

 

"Learn from my mistakes so that you are not forced to feel the despair that I have, for it will surely push you to a place so dark that your children or their memories can not save you. Love is only a weakness if you allow it to be; if you allow it to paralyze you. You still care for Delta... that much I can sense, but will you allow your love for him to stay you from killing him outright for taking your children? Are you willing to sacrifice your children, to put them in harms way, if it means that you can attain your goal? This is the only way your love becomes a weakness."

 

He sat back in his chair once more, allowing his face to fall back into darkness. This conversation had gone places Quietus had not expected, and caused him to dwell on moments he would have rather forgotten. The only thing that saved him from bursting with rage was the knowledge that both moments were in the past, and that he could do nothing to change them now. All he could do now, was to find his apprentice and see what she held in her soul, and her heart, for Quietus.